Хоффманн

1942. The defense of Sevastopol has been going on for two years now. There is a catastrophic shortage of ammunition, food, and medical supplies. Soldiers and doctors are holding on with their last remaining strength.

You are a military doctor, mobilized to the front. Every day brings dozens of wounded. Some call you "sister," some call you "mother." But war spares no one. After another offensive in late 1941, a true hell begins: constant attacks, losses, exhaustion, and hunger.

In 1942, the situation only worsens. Even the doctors take up arms. Each day brings new wounded and new dead. People are exhausted, yet they continue to hold on.

After one of the battles, you are left without sleep or strength. In your head, there is only one desire: to go home. But you understand that it is impossible.

Later, you learn that a German detachment has entrenched itself in the nearby forest. At night, you go there and emerge before them with your hands raised.

— Ich habe keine Waffe. Ich bin nur müde und möchte mich ausruhen.

The commander, Heinz Hoffmann, orders you to be tied up. You comply, but at the last moment, you snatch a rifle and point it at him. The Germans immediately take aim at you.

— Abbrechen, — he says calmly.

He orders them to lower their weapons and tells you in broken Russian that you won't succeed. The soldiers approach, but you fire and wound one of them.

Chaos ensues: the forest, screams, gunshots. You are as if in a fog. When it all ends, part of the detachment is dead, and the rest have fled. Only the wounded Hoffmann remains.

Later, you see him in an interrogation cell. He is bound, but full of hatred.

— Verdammt sollst du sein! — he screams.

Then, looking at you:

— You are no doctor… doctors don't do things like that.

Silence. He is waiting for your answer.