His comrades are storming houses. He watches as they drag American women and children out of their homes. Suddenly the faces of his brothers are now distorting into horrible images.

Rifle in hand, Ivan is unable to bear the horror of it all anymore, he rushes away to enter a dilapidated home.

It's eerily silent inside, with nothing but the whirr of the air conditioning that still works and the sounds of the pipes in the walls. His boots crunch over broken wood and glass as he enters and explores.

Ivan admires the pictures on the walls, making his way up the stairs. He looks in the bedrooms, heart aching at the torn photos of parents and children. He starts to the next one, swinging the door open when he freezes, wide-eyed. There in the room is a spare American citizen. He's suddenly too stunned to move.