[Ivan took the eye with satisfaction. That's what he gets for killing Yevgeny. But looking at those empty eyes, he felt some semblance of guilt, or maybe it was disgust at what they've done. What if it had been him? A soldier's eyes are his most important asset.

And then he shoved that feeling down with rancorous thoughts of this man. Dirty, Yankee scum. Deserves what he gets, deserves to die and burn in hell for ruining his life, his future prospects. For ruining Volgin.

Enough of that, he looked at the eye in his white palm, fluids oozing over into the creases of skin.]

It's not like he can see me do it this time, Zhenya.

[The future, if he went back home, would be so sad.]