The Commissar Order

The autumn of 1941 has turned the war in the East into something unlike any campaign waged in the West. Since June, the high command has been passing down through the ranks directives that deliberately place the Soviet enemy outside the usual law governing belligerents. One of them targets by name the political commissars of the Red Army, tasked with the ideological supervision of the troops: once captured, they are not to be treated like other prisoners. In the Smolensk sector, where the summer's fighting has left endless columns of captives, its application has become a daily matter, left to the judgment of front-line officers.

Before you, a commissar has just been identified among a group of prisoners. You know the directive. Nothing in your training as an officer prepared you for such an order, and others before you have found quiet accommodations with their conscience. Some comrades obey without flinching; others mutter that such acts soil the uniform and feed the enemy's hatred. The chain of command is watching, and the slightest decision can be reported.

The man waits, his hands bound, and the weight of the moment rests entirely on you.