Dawn crawled across the ruins like smoke. The railway yard lay in silence, rails twisted from the last bombing. Women stood in a ragged line — hollow-eyed, uniforms hanging loose on their bones. The American officer’s voice broke the stillness: “Undress for inspection.” No one breathed. Frost steamed from their mouths. A button snapped, cloth fell, and shame rose heavier than the winter air. Mud clung to bare feet where once boots had marched. The women waited for cruelty, for laughter, for the final blow. But none came — only quiet orders, and a strange mercy that felt like disbelief.
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