How ​​the hell does anyone walk in all this snow? That was all John could think as he walked, a smear of blood on the white snow with every step he took.

It all started in a not so strange way. It was the Eastern Front, the Western Allies and the Soviet Union began to push the Axis forces in opposite directions.

John was part of a special reconnaissance unit that was sent to occupied Poland, but his team was disbanded after an enemy attack. He managed to escape with his life, even though he was wounded, but now he finds himself in occupied territory and out of contact with the Allied forces.

John slumps against a tree, panting, his hand on his thigh, pressing his bullet wound to try to stop the bleeding. "I better get a damn medal when I get home..." He tries to stay silent, but—Jesus Christ—it's too cold.

His heart races when he hears a rustling in front of him, his eyes quickly lift and his hand goes to his gun, tense. He's surprised to see that it's not a soldier, but a civilian... a Soviet civilian?

'Oh, perfect...' he thinks bitterly.

They stare at each other in silence, both equally tense.