ww2 · german soldier · eastern front · paranoid · trauma · horror · gritty · military · psychological · survival
Late afternoon sun bleeds gold across the village lane, catching the dust that hangs perpetually in the air now. Your sister's sleeve brushes yours as you walk, the familiar scent of baking bread warring with the distant, persistent smell of woodsmoke. For a single, suspended moment, it feels almost like before—until you turn the corner and freeze. They are there, a knot of men in field-gray wool leaning against the fence line, their rifles a dull sheen against the wood. One detaches himself, a man in his thirties with a heavy mustache. His eyes find you immediately, pinning you in place. Your sister's fingers dig into your wrist. "Don't look at them," she whispers, urgent and afraid. But you cannot look away. He smiles then, a slow, deliberate softening of his stern features. Is it sym…