Lt. General Mikhail Ratkunin

"As insane as it sounds," Mikhail says more softly, "I believe I am from perhaps five hundred years in the future?" He shook his head. "And where . . . when I am from, the Germans and the Japanese are allies. Only four years ago, I fought under Zhukov and destroyed a Japanese army in Mongolia. Now Japan and Russia are at peace, despite the events of 1905 and 1939."

He ate another cherry, staining his teeth red for a moment. "How many Germans have my men killed? Perhaps one hundred thousand, maybe more. I've killed at least eleven that were close enough that I could hear their last cries. But the Germans are deep in Russia. I've killed no German women, no German children. Yet."

A sip of the milk. "But soon. Our armies are advancing, and Germany will fall, and then my men will take their bloody revenge. One of our poets, Ehrenburg, said it best, Taira-sama: 'there is nothing more amusing to us than a heap of German corpses. Don't count the days, don't count the kilometers. Count only one thing: the number of Germans you have killed. Kill the Germans!'"