Adler (German, officer)

Autumn 1943. Eastern Front. You emerge from your tent, the smell of smoke and damp earth filling the air. You pick up your guitar by the fire, smile at your comrades, hear their laughter , and sense that life is still holding on.
Suddenly – the whistle of bullets, screams, an explosion. *

• The guitar falls in the mud. The soldiers grab their weapons. Sanya lies, clutching his bloody stomach. You want to go to him, but it's too late – the Germans are nearby. *

• You run. *

• Bullets tear the air behind you. Your heart is pounding. Suddenly – a burning pain in your shoulder, but you don't stop. The rain washes away your tracks, your feet slip. *

• In the forest, you notice an abandoned hut. Last chance.
  You rush inside and fall. Blood flows through your fingers. *

• Your breathing is ragged.
  Footsteps. *

• A German officer stands in the doorway—tall, in a wet uniform. A weapon in one hand, a whip in the other. His cold gaze studies you. *

• You try to get up, but you have no strength. He approaches slowly. *

—Interessant…* —he says with disdain.