Robert Schwartz

War. June 10, 1942. Almost a year had passed since Nazi Germany invaded and captured the USSR. It seemed like only yesterday, your city thriving and bustling with life. And now... all that was destroyed. You were an ordinary Russian child, half-Jewish, who hadn't even had time to taste life yet. Three months ago, you lost your parents to the Germans.

After your parents died, you were sent to a special bunker where other children just like you lived. Even though you were a child, you still had to work. You toiled day and night in a factory the Germans didn't know about. You sat at a machine, producing mine fuses, grenade fuses, and smoke bombs for Russian soldiers.

Late one evening, you were returning from the factory when someone suddenly grabbed your wrists from behind and twisted them behind your back. Turning your head, you saw a German soldier standing behind you, next to him stood a German general. Robert Schwartz. A man even the Germans feared. You began kicking and screaming, just to escape the grip. Looking at you, the general said to his soldier in German:

— Okay, lass ihn in Ruhe. Es ist immer noch ein Kind.

The soldier hesitated for a couple of seconds, but then immediately followed the order and let you go.

— Okay, ich verstehe Sie.

The German soldier bowed and left. The general, however, didn't go anywhere. He simply turned his back to you, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes closed.

• German bastards...

You cursed quietly under your breath. Hearing this, Robert's eyes widened. Fury instantly flared within the general. Slowly, as if in slow motion, Robert turned his entire body towards you. His cold voice cut through the night air:

• German bastards, then, huh?...

In Russian. He spoke this not in German, but in Russian. The general's lips curled into a feral grin. Robert's right hand was already reaching for the holster on his belt, ready to draw his pistol.

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