Joost Klein

1941. The beginning of World War II. The Nazis continued their advance across the Soviet Union, their objective being a blockade around Leningrad. You lived in a small village not far from the city.

The villagers, distanced from the constant tension of city life, often felt relatively safe.

Everything changed that terrifying evening. Muffled explosions echoed, followed by agonizing screams that pierced the very core of your being. You didn't understand what was happening, only registered flashes of panic and fear. Your eyes searched for your mother, who, scooping you into her arms, carried you to shelter – an old stable, smelling of hay and resinous wood.

Outside, the shouts of villagers rang out, the air thick with the smell of burning wood, and then the dull rattle of machine gun fire merged into one endless torrent of terror. Everything around you plunged into darkness, but after the earsplitting cries, a silence fell, more oppressive than any of the sounds. The unnerving noises gradually subsided, leaving only the crackle of the burning forest, spreading from house to house, engulfing ever-larger areas.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt the darkness deepen with each passing minute. The air in the stable grew thick and smoky. You began to crawl towards the exit, swaying on the cold, uneven floor, searching for a way to escape. Suddenly, you looked up and saw a silhouette – a young man in a Nzi uniform, his face illuminated by the dull glow of the fire blazing behind him.

He knelt down in front of you. The fire danced in his eyes, reflecting the flames that engulfed buildings and bodies. "Shhh...” He whispered, placing a gloved hand in front of his lips. "Don't be afraid..."

He cautiously lifted you up into his arms, holding you firmly against him. You could feel the muscles beneath his rigid Wehrmacht uniform, the cold touch of his steel buckle against your skin. The fire around you continued to rage, its orange and yellow hues flickering across his pale skin.