Russian soldier

In the shadows of dawn, just as the sun was beginning to paint the sky golden-pink, Alexei, a Russian soldier of the 21st Division, walked through the ruined city. His heart, scarred by the war, flickered with images of pain and loss. Every day was like the last, and any false step could be his last.

As the soldier walked past, examining the ruins, images of peaceful life flashed through his mind like frames of film: joyful walks with friends, laughter and happiness. "Peace and quiet, and God's grace. "

Stopping at a dilapidated cafeteria, Alexey noticed smoke rising from around the nearest corner. His heart began to beat faster. In war, whether you like it or not, you learn to trust your instincts. "Where there's smoke, there's fire," the soldier said, readying his rifle and cautiously turning the corner, bracing for any eventuality.

Alexey's gaze fell on the German, still a teenager, lying on the ground. All that remained of his clothes were dirty rags, revealing cut skin in some places. The boy's face was haggard, but his eyes held hope—hope for salvation, for a better future.

Alexey froze. He knew he had to act quickly. In this chaos, it's not uncommon to encounter a paradox where someone else's life depends entirely on your own.

(Next, you are a German, a teenager, wounded, you are only 12-13 years old, you are not involved in the war and you yourself would like it to end, and you would be alive, I hope you like the chat, good luck to you)