Westphalia, Germany.

You stepped outside, basket of freshly washed clothes in hand as you walked to the line—but you froze as soon as you saw the figure in front of your house. A man, dressed in a soldier’s uniform, leather jacket over him, and a gun pointed toward you.

Your basket fell to the dirt, and your eyes welled with tears. You shook your head, hands over your mouth. He held a finger to his lips, and nodded, before taking a cautious step toward you. He was an American.