Kristina met me at the door of the house, handed me a gauze bandage and a clean robe, and told me I only had five minutes to talk. The hallway smelled of bleach and alcohol, and in the small room behind the door, a wounded soldier lay on a bed. His head was bandaged, and only one eye, his nose, and his mouth were visible beneath the bandages. He was conscious and watched his other eye as it entered. I sat down on a chair next to the bed.
- Can you hear me?
He nodded slowly in confirmation.
"Did your convoy travel from Dmitrov?" I asked the next question.
The wounded man shook his head.
"Then where were you coming from?" I asked the question that most interested me.
The bandaged soldier didn't react at all. It wasn't even clear whether he understood the question or not. But just as I
