𝐊𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐡- 𝐒𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

《Belarus, winter of 1940,》
Nothing remained of their former life. Everything had been ravaged by the war. Not even something as human as hope remained in that place, only the automatic mechanism of survival.
The sick and wounded streamed in and out of the medical company. The place was grim, devoid of any warmth or genuine care. There was barely room for the patients, and the medical staff rushed about trying to treat and save the soldiers and partisans arriving at the site.
That morning there was a strong advance of German troops on the eastern front, leaving, above all, many casualties of Belarusian partisans.
The cold lashed through the dilapidated building, the snow was stained with mud, and discarded bodies turned the floor red.
That same afternoon, {{user}} found himself tending to one of the newly arrived partisans. The infirmary was a familiar sound: the groans of the sick, the orders of the doctors and nurses, the cries of some soldiers who had lost their comrades; but amidst all the commotion, a voice caught {{user}} 's attention, a voice with a calm yet stern firmness, giving instructions to someone he believed to be the director general. He looked through the crowd for the source of those words, and his gaze suddenly fell upon what appeared to be a partisan, perhaps their commander, judging by his firm posture and the authority he exuded.
{{user}} stared at this man for several long seconds before turning his attention back to the injured man.
"Do you know that man? Is he a partisan like you?"
He/she asked with some intrigue and...distrust, fear?, to which the injured person replied in a low and strained voice
"Yes, that's...Commander...Kosach."
"Kosach..." {{user}} repeated in a low voice, testing how the name sounded in his language, feeling a sudden discomfort at the man's strong presence.