The author's note:
When I watched Generation War, like everyone else, I hoped that five friends would survive. Since I couldn't think of a way of "saving" both, Friedhelm and Greta, in one piece of fiction, I decided to make this a save-Friedhelm story. The story begins where it actually ended in the series.
Although I occasionally use German and Czech words for a more authentic experience, the story is obviously in English. So, unless specified otherwise, it is implied that the main characters speak German all the time. Since I am not a native speaker, please let me know if you find any errors.
Unfortunately, the format of this site does not allow for footnotes. Because it might not be convenient for you to constantly have to scroll up and down the page for the translation of German words, I also posted this story at archiveofown.
If anyone out there is interested in this fandom and the story, I'll be happy to hear from you! Any feedback is also greatly appreciated.
Brief historical background:
After Germany had signed an unconditional surrender, the war was not yet completely over. What still remained of the German army - some radical extremists among the Volkssturm and Wervolf units - refused to surrender, and hid themselves in the forests (the Sudetes mountains and Böhmerwald), a natural border between Czechoslovakia and Germany on the north-west and Austria on the south-west. They knew that if they were caught, they would be sent to prison or executed, so they had nothing to lose. Robbery, occasional outbursts of violence, and attacks on the civilians went on throughout the whole summer of 1945. The Soviet, American and Czech troops tried to hunt them all down and succeeded only by 1946.
The situation was aggravated by the numbers of ethnic Germans who for many years had lived alongside the Czechs in the Sudetenland, the region of Czechoslovakia bordering the forest. In 1938, Germany took control of the Sudetenland, and in 1939, the rest of Czechoslovakia was invaded. After the war had ended, many of ethnic Germans were deported, killed, or violated against by the local population. The remaining population tried to escape to Germany and Austria through the forest zone.
May - June 1945
- 1 -
In spring, this forest ceased to be an asylum.
The trees seemed to mock people in hiding. There was no mercy in the naked black branches with no green leaves springing from them.
The sun looked a pale projector shining through the clouds the color of dirty linen.
The colorless sickly-looking grass could never make its way through the dirt; and even the lightest footprint was easily discernible.
Only the birds were still by people's side.
As usual, crouching in the shrubbery, Branka was waiting.
Waiting for the far-away machine gun to cease its splutter.
Waiting for the loud tracks to pass by.
The allies. She could still catch up with them.
Not a smile but rather a grimace on her rubber-dry lips.
It would have been good to know who the allies were now for her, and for how long.
Only upon hearing the timid bird chirping again, did she dare to straighten her back and push aside the prickly branches.
Perhaps, she could find some gun cartridges on the spot. Or maybe even more than that.
An anxious backward thought. She'd gone too far. The gun fire was so loud - for the first time since...
She suddenly remembered her aunt Petra's favorite saying, "Let the sleeping dogs lie..."
Yet, she desperately needed the cartridges.
- 2 -
It was already getting dark by the time she found the place.
Something was lying there in between the trees, by the trace of the truck wheels.
Not so easy to see in the evening mist.
One step - yet another. Her shoes were leaking, and all this muddy water on the road did not help.
Branka stepped forward and bended over the heap of camouflage.
She should have expected something like that. All the weapons - if there had been any - taken away. Apparently, she was not the only smarty pants in this place. Perhaps, something was left in the pockets though...
Her hands quickly became slippery because of the still warm slimy liquid.
She hastily examined the man's pockets, then, shuddering with disgust, she turned him around. Come on, you heavy bag of manure!
No, nothing for her. Only rags and scraps. Oh yes, and a book filled with unintelligible scribbling wherever there was some blank space left. Is that how German soldiers pass their time between the shootings?
She sneered. Yet, for some reason, she didn't throw away the water and blood-swollen volume. She still remembered Petra's warning, "Even if everything is on fire, don't you dare to throw out dry bread or damage a book." Funny. Everything they owned had been burnt, and still she didn't dare to.
Absent-mindedly, she found a dry spot on the man's uniform. While she was wiping off the dirt and blood, her fingers occasionally brushed the stranger's cheek. She felt unexpectedly soft stubble, grimaced and drew back her hand.
Yet, she could not help but look briefly into the dead face of the fallen enemy... and started. His still bright grey-blue eyes stared at her through the matted eyelashes.
The blackened cracked lips moved slightly.
That was not a human moan, it sounded more like an animal. She once heard a dog whining at the back yard after the soldiers just like this one had shot it...
She recoiled. Even after so many times of seeing dying people, she still couldn't quite get used to...
No, don't you stare at me. I am not going to waste on you my two remaining cartridges. No knife either. You'll die on your own soon enough.
She wanted to go away; she almost turned around and then heard ever so faint, "Hilf...[2]"
The dark blood gurgled, bubbled and trickled down his chin. The man was suffocating. One didn't even need a knife. It would have been enough just to press on his chest a little bit harder.
- 3 -
Just a boy - a very young boy - under all this heavy and bulging camouflage uniform. Probably, hardly more than twenty.
His clothes-less body was almost weightless. It seemed to her like a sieve with so many bloody wound holes in it.
Three exit wounds in his shoulder and leg. His right wrist hang helplessly with two fingers blown off completely.
White bone.
Something pinkish-white.
Blackened burnt flesh around the bullet entries.
Well, how could she possibly be expected to deal with all this? It wasn't some minor splinter to pull out with forceps.
At least, there was still some moonshine left in her dugout.
- 4 -
Branka could barely hold her eyes open.
Her hands, clothes, face, and hair were sticky with dried blood.
It seemed she'd spent hours and hours - the whole night and more than a half of the next day - by the German's unresponsive body.
Hardly knowing whether she was indeed helping or more likely than not killing him.
Václav's old trousers, someone's footcloths, and shirts which had been left here since the last fall - everything was wasted on wrapping and cleaning the wounds.
Her hands were shaking.
The lamp fire was about to go out.
Salty suffocating blood smell.
When finally done, she fell asleep right in the heap of bloody clothes.
What for? He's bound to die.
- 5 -
Every morning right after waking up, she checked on him and curiously listened to the wheezing and hissing noise somewhere deep inside the wounded chest.
Still alive.
Still breathing.
Just a boy.
It was easier to think about him that way. To imagine that he hadn't been up to much harm. That he wasn't as guilty as the rest of them.
She tried not to listen to the delirious German words gargled through the gritted teeth. She would have liked to stuff something into his mouth but then, for sure, he'd suffocate.
She tried not to think about what she'd been doing. Anyway, soon she'd have to dig a grave, so what did it matter who he was?
- 6 -
"Wilhelm, kein mehr... Vorbei...[3]"
"Mlč[4]."
The caterpillar tracks right across his chest and legs. It is so dark and stuffy here. He can almost hear his bones cracking.
Wie viel mehr[5]? It surely cannot last forever, and when the end comes... he is not at all scared. There is no hell in the hereafter. He has left the hell behind in that grove as he left those grimy Volkssturm kids and the machine gun rattle.
As his head aches, and his chest is being squished, he cannot help but dully wonder if there can be any burning tanks in the hereafter. What about that yellow light from above? And that girl's pale face?
- 7 -
His first meaningful words were old as the hills.
"Wasser, bitte[6]."
She noticed that his bleary look had somewhat brightened, and now he was watching her instead of staring blankly.
"I can't believe it![7]"
"Was?[8]"
Widening pupils. Uneven breathing.
"Wo bin ich? Was...[9]"
"Here, drink and be quiet."
Holding his head and tilting the cup to his lips had already become a habit. Yet, this time she tilted it perhaps a bit more than necessary.
He coughed and turned his head away. Some of the liquid spilled on the blanket.
Whatever. Try that on your own. It's not like I care if you choke.
His hand was trembling as he tried to grasp the cup. Of course, without any luck.
"Ich lebe noch...[10]"
She couldn't quite recognize what was that in his voice. Surprise? Fear? Disappointment?
"Don't get overly excited. You can kick the bucket any time."
He frowned.
"Ich kann nicht verstehen[11]." And suddenly, almost without an accent. "Вы можете говорить по-русски?[12]"
Her heart missed a beat. So, he is from the Eastern front. Where else would he learn Russian? Little German scum.
Yet, she was more angry with herself because she hadn't had enough spirit to finish him off in the grove.
Even after she saw what they had done to Václav... saw his wild bloodshot eyes. No longer a human. Just a wounded terrified animal.
- 8 -
The other day the German woke up all sweaty. Swollen cracked lips could hardly move.
"Bin ich im Gefängnis?[13]"
The question took her aback, and she thought it best to keep silence. Soon, he'd pass out again anyway.
Yet, he still watched her and frowned slightly.
"Bist du tschechische? Die Partisanin?"
"I'll let you figure that out on your own."
"Verstehest du mich oder?[14]"
"I've had your lot as my neighbors for way too long but it's not for you to know."
He signed and coughed painfully.
She surely was not going to... and yet, again, old habits die hard, and she patiently held the cup while he swallowed and trembled.
"Danke... sag mir ... bitte... der Krieg... vorbei ist?[15]"
As if he were speaking to a baby or a deaf-mute.
I wonder why he is asking me. He should have asked his dumb authorities. What can I possibly know in this by-place?
"I haven't heard any shooting for a long time."
He watched her perplexedly apparently trying to grasp some meaning in the foreign language gibberish.
If it were someone else, she would have probably even felt sorry.
The problem was she didn't know what it felt like anymore. To be sorry for someone.
- 9 -
At night, she heard him again.
"Aufhören! Aufhören, verdammt noch mal!.. Sie sind alle tot.[16]"
It seemed to her that everyone in the forest - both Germans and Russians - could hear his ravings.
She wanted so badly to stuff the blanket into his hateful mouth. Her own mouth tasted blood.
- 10 -
The boy was silent for several days after. He only watched her sullenly.
No - she reminded herself - he was not just any boy. He was an enemy. A dangerous beast.
Yet, would a beast have childlike-pink cracked lips? Or teenage-like acne under the stubble?
- 11 -
The thin grain and sorrel soup. The German was able to feed himself now albeit awkwardly using his left hand only and splashing half of the liquid.
He winced when another drop fell down and said calmly.
"Das Stroh brennt bei dem Ofen[17]."
She moved so swiftly that her head hit the low ceiling. All the floor was paved with dry grass and wood cuts. They stood no chance against even the smallest fire.
"Where? Come on. Show me quickly."
She heard him coughing or rather wheezing.
When she turned around, he was smiling with - what seemed to her - arrogance.
"Aber du verstehest Deutsch ziemlich gut.[18]"
You, Nazi!
Beside herself with rage, she knocked the cup out of his hand.
The soup spilt and simmered onto the stove.
She noticed - not without inner satisfaction - how the German winced from pain. Yet, his eyes were still bright and full of mockery.
He didn't move or say anything, and she bit her lip. Indeed, she only made more trouble for herself. There was not much more grain left, and she had no choice but to share her own soup ration.
"Nein... Es ist nicht...[19]"
Oh really, you don't want this? Did anyone ask you? Just look at yourself. A bag of bones. You know, I didn't waste so much of my time to see you dying of hunger now.
- 12 -
"Well... You are quite schlecht. Do you seem this? No, don't look at your right hand, you dummy. Yes, you've lost some of your fingers but it's not the worst, believe me. Your knee is swollen, and I have no idea what the heck is going on inside your chest. I somehow managed to pull the bullet out of your shoulder but I am not a doctor, so I can do nothing about your chest. Do you understand?"
The German laid back down and closed his eyes.
"Wie lange bist du hier?[20]"
Is that any business of yours?
"Wahrscheinlich, Deutschland hat kapituliert.[21]"
As she bent to bandage his shoulder again, his hot feverish fingers clasped on her wrist.
"Hey, what do you think you are doing?"
"Du muss... deine Leute finden. Das kann nicht mehr langer dauern.[22]"
She wriggled out and noticed that the beast seemed to have become stronger. Only a few days ago he could hardly raise himself up.
"Now, do you see this gun? Don't think I'm an easy game. If you only move as much a toe without my permission - I'm warning you."
He only scowled at her.
"Kannst du wirklich schießen?[23]"
"Wanna see? You needn't doubt me. At this distance, even a child can knock you out."
He brushed the gun away.
"Dummkopf... Blázen. Was kann ich dich jetzt tun?[24]"
Me? I am not as helpless as those you are used to dealing with.
As if upon overhearing her thoughts, he grinned listlessly.
"Egal. Du wirst mich nicht toten. Hast du schön vergessen? Du hast mich gerettet.[25]"
- 13 -
The German was silently biting his lip. She could swear she'd even seen unbidden tears in his eyes. Why was she even being gentle with him? It would have been easier to simply tear off the stubborn bandage.
Yet, she couldn't help but say comfortingly:
"Ein wenig Geduld.[26]"
She bit her tongue but all too late.
He quickly raised his eyes.
"Danke."
She only gritted her teeth and tightened the bandage.
He didn't smirk. His voice was calm and very matter-of-fact.
"Mach dir keine Sorge. Ich verstehe dass du mich hasst.[27]"
No, I doubt that. All of you turned your blind eye on us for years and years. You probably thought us too stupid to know our luck. To be governed by the greatest nation ever. If any of you had really understood what it was all about, we wouldn't be sitting here now. Neither of this would have happened.
Was he mocking her or truly trying to apologize?
"Wenn ich Tschechisch sprechen könnte...[28]"
- 14 -
"Warum bist du hier alleine?[29]"
Because you guys have taken care of my family.
But she didn't say it aloud.
The fire was cracking merrily in the stove.
The days were becoming longer and warmer. Young green grass and moss instead of the mud. The birds chirped untroubled by any gun shots. It seemed that summer had finally arrived.
Her aunt Petra died at the end of the last summer...
The flames of fire were almost black. The insufferably white sun was blazing through the storm clouds. Branka fell onto her knees back then and covered her ears. Matka Boźi, da pomoc[30]. Let the rain fall - right now - while it's not too late. Let Petra live. Even without any hair or skin. "Mother, mummy, mom..." Branka had never called Petra "mother" while she was still alive. Why was she so stupidly stubborn?
The storm came only in the evening. The raindrops were sizzling upon the burnt books and fallen wooden beams. The ash mixed with the mud.
The Germans took Václav and the others in September. They didn't trouble themselves with hanging or shooting the partisans. They didn't want to waste the cartridges, so they simply used tommy-bars and shovels. She heard his bones cracking and saw white and red spatters. He only managed to cry out, "Branka, forgive me!"
"What? What for?"
For just a brief moment, she wanted nothing more but to run there, straight into the human mess. But she couldn't. She wouldn't.
There were about ten German soldiers. She was alone as well as Stepanka. The math task was simple.
Her finger didn't pull the trigger. She bit into the earth not to scream.
Yet, all her math calculations didn't save Stepanka.
Branka couldn't save anyone.
She thought it was because cizího krev neteče[31].
She was just a foundling after all. An ungrateful cuckoo.
Yet, she had just rescued the German soldier.
Did his "hilf mir" outweigh Václav 's death-cry? The odor of aunt Petra's burning body?
Stepanka's pitiful childish wail: "Budiž svêtlo! Oh, jà jsem se vlka bàl[32]."?
As she remembered all this, the red mist came over her eyes.
She clenched the bandage. She wanted to strap it on the German's neck instead of his shoulder. She wanted to see his blue eyes bulging.
Yet she couldn't, not while he was so weak. After all, he could barely lift himself off the bench.
- 15 -
"Branka, you traitor!" someone's fingers clenched her throat. Someone's hands were holding her - no way out. No!
She woke up with a start. Her throat was sore, and her heart was racing madly.
The German was sitting by the lamp rustling the pages of his book wrinkled from the dried blood and water.
He turned to her and asked in a matter of fact voice.
"Weiß du den Schriftsteller der heißt Nietzsche?.. Nein? Egal. Er hat immer gelugt. Wie die anderen.[33]"
"What?Was your Nietzsche the same as you guys? Did he also used to slaughter people like chicken?"
The German scowled.
"Bitte, bist du nicht müde? Du weiß dass ich dich nicht verstehen kann.[34]" His mocking smile barely touched his lips. "Aber wenn es dir Zufriedenkeit bringt...[35]"
"Zufriedenkeit?" She barely could restrain herself. "Only if all of you finally croak, I might perhaps have some Zufriedenkeit."
He didn't bat an eyelid.
"Warum hаst du mich im Wald denn nicht gelassen?[36]"
Indeed, why? She hadn't slept so many nights, washed his stinky wounds, fed him like a newborn baby. Why?
"Warum? Du hast mich gebetet.[37] "
His usual paleness turned to green.
"Das kann nicht sein[38]."
"Yes, you did. Look at you, so brave you are now. And there, in the grove, "Hilf mir, bitte."
She felt a surge of spiteful joy noticing his face changing.
"Hör auf![39]"
"Ah yes, you were probably scared for your precious self. You didn't care that much about other people, did you? You thought they were perfectly fine to be hang, shot down, and burnt, didn't you? It was perfectly fine for a three-year-old baby girl to die of cold because I had no medicines to treat her with. It was okay with you because we are not humans. We are no match to the Aryans."
The German was holding onto his book so tightly that red spots became visible on the white shoulder bandage.
His voice sounded tired and listless though.
" Ich hatte keine Ahnung dass ich noch leben möchte.[40]"
- 16 -
The German was lying on the bench almost without any motion. Simply watching the ceiling, and turning away when she brought him the soup bowl.
"What's the matter? Do you feel worse?"
He watched as if not seeing her.
His huge sunken eyes and sharp cheekbones.
"Listen to me, stop this sulking now. Come on, take this spoon. I'm not going to baby-sit you any longer."
"Lass mich doch mal."
The tone of his voice was such that she immediately recoiled and unwittingly took hold of her gun.
The response died in her throat. The German soldier's desperate anger was hanging in the air, almost visible like the thick grey smoke from the stove. She was suddenly out of breath.
As she was blindly clambering to the entrance, she heard him muttering quietly, "Entschuldigst[41]."
- 17 -
In the middle of the pitch-black night.
"Wilhelm! Nein!"
Still half-asleep, Branka grasped her gun and occasionally knocked the pots off the stove.
"Now, what's that? Let me sleep, won't you?"
The groaning quickly stopped. When she lit up the candle, the German was already wide-awake. His bandage yet again a mess.
Burning and sweaty forehead. Bright eyes.
He awkwardly recoiled when she tried to wipe off his face with a piece of wet cloth, and that's when she noticed that his cheeks were wet.
His voice was raspy.
"How stupid of me. I haven't had any dreams whatsoever for four years. It has always been pitch dark as soon I closed my eyes. And now look at me. Whining like a baby."
She spent the night wetting the cloth on his forehead to bring down the fever and fell asleep next to him. She forgot everything about her gun.
- 18 -
"Wie heißt du denn?"
"Branka, and you?"
He seemed surprised.
"Are trying to say you haven't even looked into my Soldbuch?"
"I haven't seen it. Neither the paybook, nor your identification disk. Those who shot you down must have taken everything together with your gun."
"Perhaps, it's for the best. By the way, I'm Friedhelm."
"Und wer ist Wilhelm?"
He absent-mindedly tried to grab the spoon with his right hand and winced painfully.
"Mein Bruder."
"Where is he now? Is he also a soldier?"
He answered reluctantly,
"No idea. He was in the penal battalion once."
"Oh really? Let me guess why. Did he shoot at and miss some poor civilian?"
For some reason, she felt somewhat uncomfortable. His eyes were cold and distant but not at all angry.
"Könnte es vielleicht Sarkasmus sein? Dein Deutsch ist wirklich gut.[42] "
"Danke. I've had good German teachers in uniforms."
- 19 -
When the German saw the ever-lessening daily soup ration, he only signed.
"Thanks. I'm fine. Eat it yourself."
"No, you need to eat more now. I can always manage with some wild berries, or go fishing in the creek."
She had also tried to put a trap once. The squirrel was still alive, and she couldn't bring herself to smash its head. She left the wriggling animal in its trap hoping it would die quietly at night. Yet, all that was left in the morning was some bloody red fur in the snow. Wolves were howling close by for weeks after that, and she did not venture for another trap.
"Listen, Branka."
"Žе?[43]"
"You cannot stay here on your own. It's not safe. You need to get back to where you came from."
"Right, should I leave all this to you?"
"Don't worry. I am not going to stay here for long either. I'll go as soon as I am able to walk."
"Don't you dare. Have you seen this gun?"
"Sure, many times."
"Well, then. Maybe, it will help you remember that you are basically my prisoner. I might have saved a German, but I'm not letting one run away."
"You're being silly. The war is over. Why do you always have to stick this gun into my face? The trigger mechanism isn't working anyway."
She was taken aback.
"It cannot be. It was ok in the fall. Perhaps, it just got rusty... Wait... how do YOU know?! "
"You always sleep so soundly."
For a moment, his eyes twinkled mischievously and she couldn't help but grin at him. As if he were not her enemy but some boy she had known from school.
"Do you want me to fix it?"
"I'll take care of it myself. I'm not going to give you a gun."
"You can take out the cartridges, pošetily[44]."
"Watch your spoon, dummkopf. You cannot even use your hand let alone fix my gun."
- 20 -
Still, Branka had her concerns, and in the evening she asked the German.
"Give me your hand. No, not the right one. The hand that you can use."
"What's it all about? Perhaps, you might want to simply hang me upside down?"
"No, only the brave German army uses such methods... How do you feel? Does it hurt?"
"As if you cared."
He turned away with an air of indifference.
"Look at yourself acting offended. Well, whatever. Stay like that all night long. I could indeed care less if your fingers get numb. Even better for me if you could use neither of your hands."
"What if I need to use the john?"
"You'll wake me up. I'm used to taking care of your shit by now."
Unlike with other men she had known, it was easy to be cheeky with him. He was a German, and he didn't judge her. That was strangely comforting.
- 21 -
When the German clambered out of the dugout for the first time, he looked around and shook his head in wonder.
"Not bad. One could easily walk by and not notice anything from a long distance.."
"Did you think we were hiding at the top of the mountain? Here, take this as your crunch. Can you get out of the ravine on your own? "
He painstakingly climbed up and almost immediately fell to the ground. His chest was raising heavily, and she could still hear that rasping noise.
"I'd so like to have a smoke."
"With all your coughing? Fat chance."
He squinted at her apprehensively. Bright baby-blue eyes.
"Now what?"
"Nothing... It's just that I didn't know you were a redhead. And freckles... I also somehow thought you were much older. "
Look at yourself, you little Wehrmacht scum, with your cracked pale lips, long dirty hair and skinny neck. Old Václav 's shirt and torn trousers that were way too large.
Yet, she was not longer angry at him.
- 22-
"Wer ist Stepanka[45]?"
"Do I also talk in my sleep?!"
He smiled.
"It happens sometimes."
"You should wake me up?"
"What for? I don't mind your nightmares. That way I always remember where I am."
Something was hard and sore inside her chest. It was so strange to hear Stepanka's name muttered so casually in a boyish German voice.
"She was my daughter. We lived here after the partisans had left."
"Is that why you don't want to leave this place?"
Branka always wanted to live so badly. Last summer after Petra's death, for the first time, she understood what "lust for life" actually meant. Her lust was becoming more and more desperate , as more and more people died around her.
As she was wandering through the deadfalls and marshes for several days in a row - the mud in her summer shoes, her bloodshot eyes searching for the tiny nicks on the trees that led her to the partisans' lair...
As she was cradling the dying child and listening to the wind howling and raindrops slowly seeping through the ceiling and splashing onto the wooden floor...
There were no sounds or colors left - only the white blizzard and distant dreary wolf howling...
She thought that was the end.
But her lust for life grew only stronger.
She understood then that she wanted to survive at any cost - even under the earth like a rat or in the forest like a homeless dog that had gone wild.
Like a shipwreck victim dying of thirst and drinking the deadly seawater.
What about the ten commandments?
What about guilt and atonement?
Ich hatte keine Ahnung dass ich noch leben möchte...
[1] The survivor
[2] Help
[3] Wihelm, that will do. That's enough.
[4] Shut up (Czech)
[5] How much longer?
[6] Water, please.
[7] Words in italics are supposed to be in Czech
[8] What?
[9] Where am I? What...
[10] I am still alive
[11] I don't understand
[12] Do you speak Russian? (Russian)
[13] Am I a prisoner?
[14] Can you what I am saying?
[15] Thank you... please tell me... has the war ended?
[16] Stop it, damn you! They are all dead!
[17] The straw is burning next to the stove.
[18] You understand German quite well after all.
[19] No... it's not...
[20] How long are you here?
[21] Perhaps, Germany has surrendered.
[22] You must find your people. It cannot last any longer.
[23] Can you really shoot?
[24] Silly... What can I even do to you now?
[25] It doesn't matter. You won't kill me. Have you already forgotten? You've saved my life.
[26] Just a little bit patience.
[27] Don't worry. I understand that you hate me.
[28] If I could speak Czech...
[29] Why are you here all alone?
[30] Virgin Mary, help (Czech)
[31] A Czech proverb. Literally, the stranger's blood doesn't flow. The English equivalent is: We can always bear our neighbors' misfortunes
[32] Leave the light on. I am scared of volves.
[33] Do you know the writer named Nietzsche? No? Well, it doesn't really matter. He was always lying. Other also lied.
[34] Please, aren't you yet tired? You know well enough that I can't understand you.
[35] But if it gives you any satisfaction...
[36] Why didn't you leave me in the forest then?
[37] Why? You've asked me.
[38] That cannot be.
[39] Stop it!
[40] I had no idea I still wanted to live.
[41] Sorry
[42] Is it supposed to be sarcasm? Your German is quite good.
[43] What (Czech)
[44] Silly (Czech)
[45] Who is Stepanka?