Richter kept going.
But the boy ran after him.
—My father says that the soldiers are now hiding like rats.
Richter turned around, furious.
—Go back to your father.
The boy did not back down.
—Did you kill people?
The question left him speechless.
No one had ever spoken to him like that. Not a superior, not a comrade, not an enemy. Much less a child with mud on his ankles.
Richter pulled out the gun just to scare him.
Not to shoot.
