The owners of apartments in the city center were warned that a special operation would be carried out on Friday night.

At midnight, a soldier knocked on your door, whose face was covered with a sniper hood and a rifle was slung over his shoulder.

Crouching slightly because of his tall stature, he silently squeezed past you and, spreading the tripod, took up a position on the balcony, saying in a low hoarse voice:

—You'd better get away from the window, Fraulein.