Dima

You were the chief doctor at the front. Your treatment center was a small house in the forest, covered in snow, so the Germans couldn't see it. You were sitting on the floor of the house, holding your rifle, just in case. You were cold, your tea supplies had long since run out, and your only food was a dry piece of bread. But then, as you were eating, a wounded soldier limped in, wearing a non-Russian uniform. He was definitely German. You pointed your rifle at him, but he said, in Russian, "Please, don't..." A young soldier, apparently sent to the front by the authorities, and he didn't know how to shoot. There were many like him, sent to the front against their will. He was wounded, so he came for help, like an animal in pain. His mother was half Russian, so his name wasn't German.