Original subtitles

Your behaviour, Sister...

...has us very worried.

One shouldn't seek for God...

...but believe in Him.

I believe in God. That's why I seek Him.

The God of man, I search for in man...

I search for God in leaves...

...in plants.

You told the students that physical love is not a sin.

You're depriving girls of the sense of shame.

Plants and animals don't have shame.

Animals mate, and plants grow.

For people, physical love belongs to the duty of marriage.

We had to remove Leni Gruyten from the monastery.

We didn't allow her to receive holy communion

She remained immature...

...and was unable to understand the sacrament.

You were her mentor. What were you teaching her?

Debauchery.

Leni Gruyten was chosen by God to give joy...

But she wasn't a "good-time girl".

And your examination of students' faeces...

What's the meaning of that?

Do you know the name for that, sister?

Scatology.

I care about health of my proteges.

Digestion and metabolism are a part of that.

Even Rome is familiar with your behavior.

They call what you do...

...fecal mysticism.

That has nothing to do with faith.

It's materialism.

A sort of mystic materialism...

but still materialism.

Your actual name is Ginzburg?

- Yes.

- Jewish name? - Yes.

You didn't tell us that.

Why?

I am Christian.

That's not the subject of this investigation.

GROUP PORTRAIT WITH A LADY

Rachel Maria Ginzburg, a Jewess and nun died in 1943 of hunger and cold.

20 years later, in the middle of winter, red roses bloomed on her grave.

We'll be accused of a cheap trick.

I didn't know what to do.

- Roses in the snow. - I saw them too.

They grew on the grave of sister Rachel.

I thought... a miracle!

God's grace is inexhaustible. There have always been miracles.

That isn't God's grace, it's witchcraft.

We don't need miracles.

When they saw roses in the snow...

...the sisters went to pieces.

And what if someone had just planted them there?!

It wasn't me...

Honest to God!

I invited you, Sister Gruyten...

...because I know how much you liked sister Rachel.

They made a decision...

...to dig up her grave...

...so her remains can be burned.

What's left of them.

You've probably heard of me.

I may not be very pious...

but I'm no monster.

I read that ridiculous story about "miraculous roses"...

...and that Leni Gruyten had something to do with it.

It's not our fault. Nobody asked us anything.

We'd already had troubles with those "miracle roses" in the past.

According to the article in the newspapers...

...the story about roses was invented by Leni Gruyten.

They're accusing her of radical mysticism.

Rachel Maria Ginzburg was her spiritual ideal.

We've tried everything.

We've dug up Rachel Ginzsburg's remains three times.

and burying them again...

in different places.

And always the same... roses grow in December on her grave.

Mister Pelzer, have you been in horticulture a long time.

You know better than us if it's possible for roses to bloom in December.

For example, with the assistance of chemical products maybe?

Or some other way.

Maybe someone wants to make Rachel a saint.

Or to take revenge on the monastery.

Does Leni Gruyten have anything to do with those roses? That I don't know.

As far as I know, the only connection between Leni Gruyten and roses...

...is the grave of Alfred Bulhorst.

But it's one where Leni mourns another...

for the last 20 years.

Because of him she was called the Russian's sweetheart.

Is smoking allowed here?

Only for the visitors.

Excuse me, would you like one?

No, thank you.

Nonsense!

Give me one.

Tobacco from Virginia. A wonderful aroma.

I've never heard anything about friendship between Leni and Rachel.

I think there was certain dose of the mystic in their relationship.

That's it, mystical.

Mystical... What do you mean by that?

After roses appeared, I looked for the file on Leni Gruyten.

What did you discover?

She was very bad at maths.

Not to mention religion... Terrible.

She was very good in German.

She failed third year because of religion, and left.

Was there anything in the files about Leni and Rachel?

You mean "something" between the two of them? No, nothing.

Incidentally, that bad mark in Religion was wrong.

Leni is a believer, a Catholic. In her own way.

Mystic...

...as you called it.

We want to know everything about connection between roses and Rachel Ginzburg.

The "rose affair" has reached the Vatican.

We should get this miracle under control before it controls us.

Doctor Scholsdorff knows Leni very well.

You might think they're not worth anything. That's what I call "applied solidarity."

Right after the war, he came to Leni's house.

When you see him, you'll understand why.

Excuse me, I forgot about your visit.

Come in, Sister, don't be afraid. Scientists are often absentminded.

Excuse me... I was taking a bath.

This way.

Dr. Scholsdorff... Sister Klementine.

Pardon me.

You can finish your bath.

Don't be disturbed because of us.

Leni Gruyten is playing the piano.

That's not a piano being played. That's music happening.

Play me something else. I'm sick of Schubert.

I don't know anything else. I only know this.

What's with you, Erhard?

Take your feet of the table. It's bad manners.

You're unbuttoned, that's against the rules.

I'm sorry. Forgive me.

For us Germans, order is a passion.

My God, we take ourselves so seriously!

And army regulations!... What brilliant logic.

The soldier, worthy of that name, according to his senior officer, always has to

be obedient, careful, kind,

to perform spontaneously, quickly and effectively!

If the senior officer drops something...

underling has to pick it up.

He won't step out of line...

...unless ordered to do so.

Do you have double bed room for us for tonight?

The local commander is in charge of rooms.

This isn't for the room,

it's for you.

Take it. Don't be afraid.

Goebbels won't find out.

You'll have to check out early in the morning.

If you're looking for the young lady...

...she just walked out.

Tell me, did you build a shelter, resistant to all bombs?

True?

You shouldn't ask such questions.

No?

- Can I get you something else? - You turn to the wrong person.

- I haven't ordered bombs or shelters. - You build them!

Tell me...

Do you do that for profit...

...or for the Third Reich?

May I?

Yes?

Your health.

Heinrich...

May I be excused?

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Otto, don't forget to give Heinrich's particulars to General Jedlitz.

He mustn't be sent to the Eastern Front.

Helen would like your grandson's name to be Kurt.

She'll bequeath him some beautiful land on the the other side of the Rhine.

Kurt is a nice name. Lotte certainly likes it too.

Why didn't you tell me right away that Wilhelm...

Terrible.

It's war...

It happens every day.

I'd like Lotte and little Kurt to come and stay with us, Father.

Their house was bombed.

No question about it.

Helen will be delighted.

I'll be back tonight around six.

Wilhelm's last letter arrived yesterday.

From some town with a strange name.

Woirichojew, Woschojew or something..

It started with: 'Dear Dad...'

You're exactly as I pictured you.

Sure of yourself.

.. Beautiful.

Mrs Schweigert...

Erhard and Heinrich went to Denmark yesterday.

That's good. They won't get shot in Denmark.

I'm speaking as a mother.

On the other hand, it wouldn't hurt for him to have his mettle tested.

He's too soft.

Mrs Schweigert, I'm scared...

for both Heinrich and Erhard.

I don't understand.

Both of them hate this war!

I don't know what you're talking about.

My son Erhard was always a good German.

I will go to Denmark, Mrs Schweigert.

Why?

To tell Erhard that I love him.

I'd like to know if there is any heather there.

What kind and when does it bloom?

I didn't know you'd become a botanist.

Me, a botanist? That's a good one!

I believe I've underestimated you.

You're not as naive as I thought.

But I'm sure of one thing...

Your relationship with Erhard can only be flighty.

Yes...

Flighty and permanent, at the same time.

A permanent flightiness.

Everyone's trying to be someone they're not.

You, for example.

You play the cultured lady.

Unfortunately, without success.

Erhard would have said that better.

My son can be only be happy with you temporarily.

"Temporarily"...

That's a nice word.

"To be happy temporarily".

So, you're not thinking about serious and permanent relationship?

To be happy...

...temporarily in the heather.

"What do you mean?"

"Is the heather on the Danish shore more beautiful?"

"Does it have a stronger scent?"

"Is it more bouncy?"

That's vulgar!

More precisely... proletarian.

Nature is not a mattress.

Mattress?

I wouldn't have thought of that. That's your own idea.

Don't these Danes know that army vehicles have right of way?

There must be discipline.

Especially for those occupied.

Old Gruyten arranged this.

The pass and everything.

She'll be bringing me a package and good wishes from home, I'm sure.

I'm so stupid.

She's not coming for my sake.

I've been a soldier too long.

It's quite simple.

I though of a way we can both survive.

Together.

Look, Sweden is close, about 18 km.

- People are normal over there. - The war will be over soon.

The war is over? This war will never stop, never!

Heinrich was right. They're apes, not human beings.

They only LOOK human.

Heinrich and I could paddle across in 2 days in two days.

We'll be waiting for you...

...over in Sweden.

What do you want?

You swine!

I shit on your Germany!

Dr. Scholsdorff... if I'm not mistaken.

- Yes. - Come on in.

Make yourself comfortable.

Thank you.

This way.

Please, take a sit.

Thank you.

Can I offer you a drink?

Thank you, I don't drink.

Tea perhaps.

I'm sorry, the staff have left.

Mr. Gruyten, I came here for purely personal reasons.

I wanted to apologize...

You just sit down, Doctor.

I'm a Slavic linguist.

My specialty is Russian literature.

But I haven't worked as such, since this unfortunate war started.

That is to say...

I'm working in the Ministry of Finance.

I know.

Mr. Gruyten...

...why didn't you respond to my summons?

This unpleasant matter could perhaps have been settled.

Please appreciate that I'm also being checked.

Your file automatically fell into the hands of the Gestapo.

The company 'Schlem and Sons' with all its employees, is just an invention,

your invention.

Only the money that you've received on the company's account existed.

In the Gestapo's view, you are human vermin...

You've damaged the fatherland.

I don't understand your motives at all.

You didn't gain any profit from it.

My profit is the damage I've caused to the state.

You came too early, Dr. Scholsdorff...

The damage to the Reich could have been much greater.

I'm sorry.

If only you hadn't used the names of Russian writers.

How could I possibly allow...

...that Tolstoy on a construction site on the Atlantic must eat barley gruel!

Or this, for example.

"Near Koblenz, at a construction site of the company ' Schlem and Sons'..."

...there are plenty of Russian workers.

Gogol...

Pushkin...

Dostoyevsky...

Turgenev.

Not even Gogol used the names of Russian writers in 'Dead Souls'.

What else could I have done?

I had to file a report.

- It was just too much. - You did what was right.

I would've done the same...

...a few months ago.

My daughter, Leni.

Mr Scholsdorff... Dr Scholsdorff.

PhD in Slavic Studies.

I've heard, that Mrs Gruyten passed away recently.

Not only my mother has died.

My condolences. I'm very sorry to hear it.

Why are you constantly blinking, Doctor?

Why aren't you a soldier?

I'm disabled.

I'm deeply touched.

You will find me completely...

You just do what you have to do.

No more, no less.

You're an upright citizen...

...like all of us.

You have to understand my position.

Forgive me, we're not blaming you at all.

You have to respect The Order...

...and follow the rules.

Believe me, Miss Gruyten...

If I'd known back then...

I'm at your disposal.

Your father must be a well-read man.

He put the entirety of Russian literature into the work-camps.

My father seldom reads.

Mostly newspapers.

Goodbye.

I must say, Miss Gruyten...

...you've been here just a week, and you've become a top-class florist.

I've been observing your work.

You have the right touch for flowers... you're a natural.

In your job you mustn't worry about the many soldiers dying nowadays.

Even the wounded who die in the hospitals...

...and the victims of bombing.

Did you know, whoever dies for Fuhrer and Fatherland has the right...

...to get to a free wreath with a ribbon...

Even with an unknown place of burial, you dig a hole in your home town...

...and place a wreath with a name on it.

You want to know what's in the hole?

Nothing.

Nothing.

How about our Walter! Already has the newby in his sidecar.

Why you looking at me lie that?

This time I'm as innocent as lamb.

Why are you staring at?

Never see a Russian before?

- I prefer Russians dead.

Enjoy the war, comrade... The peace will be terrible.

Mr. Pelzer, I'm bringing you a Russian prisoner, Boris Koltowski.

His number is 437.

Be careful, he speaks German.

Hey, Russki... Who told you you could sit down?

Your arse is not that hard.

Helga darling, change places with Miss Gruyten.

The Russian can sit next to Kremp.

Goodbye, Mr. Pelzer!

I'm answerable for him.

When I bring him in the morning, I'll also take him back in the evening.

OK?

If you want to waste Russians, then please go to the front.

In fact, jump there...

...on that one leg you have left.

See you!

I saw thousands like that.

I was heading East and they were heading West.

Russians should only be seen in the cross-hairs.

I'm very thankful to you, Major.

I've met Boris' father, Grigory, in Berlin, in 1938.

He was attache in Soviet embassy.

We became good friends.

And now, 5 years later, I've received a message.

"Boris is captured."

That's all.

The captured Russian, is, you might say, on his way to annihilation.

Mortality rate is very high in his camp.

I know.

But I ask you do everything you can, to see that he survives the war.

That won't be easy, but so long as he does nothing stupid...

I'll see what can be done for him.

Of course, this will stay between us.

Mr Pelzer, why don't you give us a lift?

We're tired of walking.

There's no room. The sidecar's full.

Come on Russki, what are you waiting for?

Hop on!

The motorised troops have arrived!

- You don't mind the wreath? - I'm not dead yet.

I thought you just make wreaths.

I didn't know you collected them.

It's war time, one wreath can be used at least 5 times.

We just change the name and ribbon.

That's in the interest of the war economy.

Mr. Pelzer, excuse me...

Why change the ribbon? Just wait for the next "Hans".

You're right. We're not putting last names on them anyway.

That's the way we'll do it.

No surname, just the Christian name.

And the usual phrases...

"Our one and only..."

"Our never-to-be-forgotten"

"Beloved by All", "In Stoic Grief", and whatever else there is.

One more thing... The glasshouse group, who make wreaths, is too small.

The group that decorates is wasting too much time.

Are you an economist?

No, I'm an engineer.

That's our coffee.

He has the rations from the camp.

He has the camp rations!

This is my coffee.

What? Your real coffee for him?

We don't even get that.

Great!

Real coffee for the Bolshevik.

I think I'm on the right track.

I found your father.

You know that he would have called us if he were alive.

You think so?

How would he do that? By phone, or would he send a card?

Your father is in a camp.

A labour camp.

I've had enough!

You stare at that jar like we're all thieves!

"Who diluted the jam?"

Did Kurt steal your stinking jam?

Lotte, please! Otto didn't mean it like that.

I mean just what I said.

Ownership must be respected.

Otherwise, we'll all die.

I'm hungry.

- Are you? - Yes.

You know, Leni, prices on the black market are going up.

Cigarettes are almost gone.

And your coffee can only be bought with gold.

Do you have any idea how much you owe me?

Aren't I good for it?

No more credit?

It's not just about me.

You have to provide collateral.

- Maybe your apartment...? - Leave my apartment alone!

You be quiet!

What about taking a mortgage?

Why not?

You're overreacting, Otto.

If Leni hadn't taken us in, we'd be living like rats.

I told you to shut up!

Leni, you have to appreciate

that I have no money, and for a loan I need a guarantee.

The mortgage would be in my name.

That way it will be better for you too.

Miss Gruyten...!

Get in the car.

It's better we're not seen on the street.

Don't be afraid.

I'm a friend of Otto Hoyser.

When was the last time you saw my father?

I've not seen him at all.

And I never will.

But I know people who see him every day.

Your father has been lucky.

He's in that camp for months and he's still alive.

Mr Hoyser says you want to help Mr Gruyten.

It's strictly forbidden to help camp prisoners.

Punishable by death.

How much would it cost?

You are his daughter. He means nothing to me.

Nor to my friends in camp.

So the amount must be appropriate to the risk involved.

Nothing will happen to us in graveyard.

Only the dead are there.

The Yanks don't knock them off twice.

- And us? - Us?

What are we?

Garbage. We don't count for anything.

You're wrong, Miss Holhohne...

We're an operation important to the war-effort.

We're indispensable in wartime.

I couldn't do two at once.

And the other stay my husband's friend...? No, never.

Not at the same time... an the same moment.

I did understand. Nevertheless, completely impossible.

Russians aren't allowed in shelters. What if he does a runner?

I used to be a soldier like you, I know my duty.

I stay here.

"Then I took your little hands..."

I'm scared.

Why?

I'm afraid of death.

Aren't you?

Who wrote that poem?

Georg Trakl.

"Then I..."

"Then I took your little hands..."

Why don't you go outside, children.

It's nicer to be killed in the fresh air.

I'll go give my bones a shake-up. I have to, at my age.

I caught the old man again. He's stealing from children too.

He took a piece of bread from Werner. Said: "It belongs to me."

I don�t understand.

You have taken us in, when we were on the street, so to speak.

And now you want to sign a mortgage for the old man.

Who is it?

No one.

Lotte, do you know where the Americans are now?

They've already crossed the German border.

Tell me...

If it was a choice between a Pole or Englishman...

...which one would you choose?

The Pole, if he's not Jewish.

Where are the other ribbons, Frieda, honey?

This is the third "Otto" today.

Girls are standing

at the gates...

looking shyly...

into a colourful life...

Where are we here? In a singing club?

Often at the well...

when dawn breaks...

What's that stupid song anyway?

I don't get it at all.

I think it's by a famous German poet.

His name was Georg Trakl.

From East Prussia. He died in the last war.

So? What business is it of yours?

My apologies.

Are we working or singing here?

Evening returns to the old garden...

Sonya's lifetime...

Congratulations, boss! They're singing Russian ditties here now.

Don't get upset, Kremp,

Miss Gruyten has a nice contralto voice. That's very German.

She's singing about some Sonya. And Sonya is a Russian name.

We're at war, Mr Pelzer.

Our comrades are dying in Russia.

Sonya isn't just a Russian name.

Sonya Henie is also Sonya.

Hey, Gorgeous...!

If you're looking for me, you're looking in the wrong direction!

Who are you waiting for? Don't tell me Kramp or old Pelzer?!

So what's up Sweetie?

Enjoy the war, because the peace will be terrible.

Why did you do it?

Taking a mortgage, at this time!

You must be crazy.

So? I need the money.

I pay six marks for cigarettes.

And for all of us, I need 20 marks a day.

There's coffee, bread...

soap...

That Russian at Pelzer's... He's blond, like Heinrich.

I need a soldier's pay-book for Boris.

Boldig, the one-eyed man... He can get anything.

You know me, I would never allow that, never!

Miss Gruyten was singing a song about Sonja.

The Russian only sang to himself and it was a German song.

It was a completely German song.

I give you my word!

Our information is different.

Russian songs were sung by a female worker.

Together with a Russian prisoner.

That's a disgraceful lie! An absolutely disgraceful lie!

Incidentally there IS an old Russian song about Sonya.

It's from the days of the Czar.

It was on the radio.

Russian prisoners aren't allowed to sing Russian songs.

They aren't allowed to sing at all.

I swear he didn't sing Russian songs.

He was just humming some German song.

He speaks German like you and me.

Boris...!

Come over here.

You remember the song you were humming the other day?

Sing it.

Lonely, a friend wanders...

in the spring garden...

Mild from loving...

I told you... He sings German songs.

...enclosed...

...that by wavering...

...blood branches, trembling...

...Adelaide.

Boris, why don't you come out?

It's nicer to die in the fresh air.

I want to ask you something.

Quite frankly...

What do you feel when you write on ribbons...

for the Fuehrer...

...for the people, for the fatherland.

Then you have to draw a swastika.

Mr Pelzer, I hope you won't get angry.

It's pleasant work for me.

Here I only meet SS members who are dead.

Yes? Pelzer.

Yes, Walter Pelzer.

Tell his excellency that everything's fine.

I have to tell you something.

The young Russian is in a relationship with Leni.

Yes, Gruyten's daughter.

For some time now.

No, nobody.

If I'd interfered it would only be worse.

I'm going to have a baby.

I'm going to have a baby.

"Break the yoke of tyrants, who tortured us so cruelly..."

"Wave the blood-red flag above the workers."

Boldig told me... just like that.

That boy must have lost his mind.

He sang it...

On the tram, on the way to work. Quietly, of course.

A worker beside him turned..:

Boldig heard him clearly say...

"Courage, Comrade, we have the war as good as won."

He's right.

We've lost the war.

But I don't know if they have won.

You know about Pelzer's report.

The Russian's been in a relationship with Miss Gruyten for months.

They're seen during raids.

Make sure he survives until the end of war.

He may very well be useful.

What will you do sweetheart...

...when the war's over?

What about you?

It was a stupid question.

I should've asked... "What are you doing tonight?"

Or better: "What are WE doing tonight?"

You've been in Russia?

You can tell, right?

What kind of people are Russians?

I don't know, I was giving them my butts.

Air-raid?

No, artillery.

Already so close?

You're right, honey.

Better ten words too few, than one too many

What else do you like, besides me?

I really like you.

What do you want?

A pay-book, not for me.

Maybe a dead man's.

But you'll need to change the photo.

For Leni's Russian?

Comrades, the fascists are gone!

Comrades, the fascists are gone!

I'm staying here.

I won't leave here till the end of the war.

If I don't come back, it means I found her.

Or that you're killed.

'Question your conscience and ask yourself if you offended God, by word or deed."

"I have sinned, O father,"

"I have grossly sinned, against heaven and against You."

"I wandered like a lost sheep, and I'm not worthy to be called your child."

Katarina Kirchen, first communion, 1878.

You want to roll cigarettes in a prayer book?

I'll patent it.

Prayers as cigarette paper.

One cigarette, one prayer.

You want a smoke, Boris?

"Were you fulfilling your marriage duties?"

"Were you sinful on purpose with another man..."

"...married or unmarried?"

"...or another single person?"

"Were you sinful on purpose with another man... married of single"

"...or another single person?"

"Or another single person?"

Hands up!

Hey, Russkies!

How are you?

Relax, Boris!

We're not looking for Russians,

We're looking for Germans.

Those who are imagining that the wars is over.

What's this swill?

Not too bad.

Where did you find it?

Around here?

Are you going to shoot us?

I should, actually.

Don't tell anyone...

...but the war is over.

Simon was here. Did you see him?

A boy. A child.

When they start using children... that means that war is over.

What are you doing here? Why aren't you with your girl?

Why did I get her that pay-book for you?

What's your name now?

Bulhorst... Alfred Bulhorst. Don't forget that.

If Simon finds out you're name is Bulhorst, he'll kill you.

He was trained to shoot Germans.

Those who hoist the white flags.

How did you get here?

With discharge papers ... with a stamp on it?

It wasn't hard, guards are gone.

Enjoy the war, comrade...

...because peace will be terrible.

Simon!

Simon!

Germany's kaputt!

I'm scared. Boris, I'm scared.

Hubert...

You've returned.

It's a surprise!

I'm bringing the rent, Otto Hoyser.

Your money...

...for my apartment.

You're rent...

You could've sent it by mail.

Mail?

Your rent? My rent money?

For a year, I've looked forward to paying you the first rent.

For my own apartment.

Rent is a debt.

Please... come on in.

Thank me for your life! Otherwise you'd be dead!

What else do you want?

Was it all in vain?

Stop it!

Give it to me, Walter! The Americans are right behind me.

Disappear... I'm not holding you back.

No... my motorcycle is not for sale.

I need it myself.

We're old party comrades, Walter.

One week before American arrived, I gave my membership card back.

By mail, by registered mail, I have the receipt.

- I'm not Nazi. - Sell it to me.

I'll pay you in cash.

1000 marks.

Ten times more.

10,000 marks.

It's not even worth 500!

To you, today, it's worth more than 10,000.

But I'm not a monster.

10,000 marks... Alright.

Alright, you'll get your 10,000 marks.

Remember that it can jump out of second gear.

You're a business man, Mr Gruyten.

After destruction, there's construction.

Steel will always be steel.

These days I can get a tank for two packs of cigarettes... or nothing

Just to get rid of it.

Do you know how much 40 tons of steel is worth?

I'm a newcomer in construction, You're a professional.

I propose that we team up together.

You organize, and I'll finance.

We'll share the profit 50-50.

This is gold, pure gold.

All we have to do is bend over and pick it up.

Understand?

No, I can offer you my services as a bricklayer if you need them.

I'll give you a job if you want.

I'll pay you good.

Bring Boris too. What's his name now?

Bulhorst?

Alfred Bulhorst.

Your papers.

Alfred Bulhorst?

Correct?

When were you born?

1920.

You were soldier?

Do you have a discharge paper from the POW camp?

Come with me.

Tell madam that we handed Alfred Bulhorst over to the French army.

Our camps are all full.

They gave him to the French, on other side of the Rhine, in the Saar.

The American was naive.

He asked me why Boris didn't say he was a Soviet war prisoner.

Americans would send him to Stalin, And Stalin would say:

"How can you be alive? Why didn't you die for your country?"

"Why did you allow them to capture you?"

Straight to Siberia.

Alfred Bulhorst...

...that's to say, your husband,

...was killed two months ago...

...in a mine accident.

That it happens in war... I understand that.

Even if it happens to someone in captivity.

But to be in captivity after the war...

and then in the middle of peace to die in the camp,,,

You'd have to be born unlucky.

Nifelheim...

That's...

...almost in Holland, right?

Is is true that in Nifelheim, even adults...

...ski in their wooden clogs?

Grave is over there, in the last row.

You'll recognize it by fresh flowers.

His parents came, not long ago.

Before the accident, the late Mr Bulhorst...

...was writing to someone called Leni.

The letter went to his parents.

They didn't know who that Leni was.

Are you her, maybe?

Strange, why didn't you bring flowers?

Roses in the snow. But no miracle happened. Leni weeps over the roses left by the parents of a German soldier, Hans Bulhorst,

on the grave of a Russian soldier, where Boris Koltowski, the only man Leni had ever loved, had been buried.

Dear Miss Gruyten... your father died in a fatal accident.

However, the circumstances are not clear.

Your father was not in any sort of dangerous or risky situation,

and nothing in our investigation indicates participation of a third party.

Yours sincerely, Police Commissioner Schmidt.

Excellency...

Your excellency...

You do remember that my information has always been accurate?

Who let this dog in?

Dogs disgust me!

Mrs Schweigert, have another biscuit.

They're delicious.

Leni is right, Mother. I've never tasted better biscuits, even when you make them.

Sure, that was a fucking war.

The boy over there, the one with the vodka, Bulhorst's his name.

Too bad I was the one who sent him to camp.

Leni, my dear, Trakl, Schubert...

I'll never forget it.

What do you say, Boris?

You know, Miss Herzhold, Leni and me are in love.

When that young jerk shot me....

I didn't feel a thing.

You haven't changed at all, Heinrich.

I've investigated.

People wear clogs over the Dutch border.

They don't wear them in Nifelheim.

Translated by Inglourious @KG Corrections and sync by FatPlank