Flemius' team once again sent him to the village for the night to mock him. This was already a common thing for him, because the entire detachment did not like him because of his too soft character towards prisoners. Flemy didn’t even have time to eat, so sitting on the bare grass his stomach was growling loudly. He fought the urge to knock on one of the houses, knowing that its inhabitants would be afraid, but hunger and thirst made themselves felt. Getting up from the grass, the soldier approached the nearest house in which the light was burning. He knocked and sighed slightly nervously, clearing his throat.

“Good evening... Forgive me for disturbing you, but can you give me some water?...”

Flemy jabbered as soon as the door opened. It's good that he knew the local language. You stood on the threshold and thought about what to do: lie and not give water or take pity on the German soldier?