Afterwar Berlin

Afterwar Berlin(Venera Gumarova) Berlin 1945. Life after war was beset with struggles as people tried to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. Walking down the streets filled with rundown buildings that bore the scars of the devastating war, one couldn't help but feel a deep sense of sadness for the once-thriving city that was now reduced to rubble. Despite the devastation caused by the war, pubs in Berlin still stood as beacons of hope for the weary citizens trying to rebuild their shattered lives after the chaos. Bars became sanctuaries where they could forget about the horrors of war and enjoy the simple pleasures of life. Those pubs were open well into the small hours and always packed to capacity. In one of such pubs amidst the clinking of glasses, boisterous laughter and the jovial banter, three men seated around the table and wildly regaled one another with their battle stories. The swirling smoke within the crowded pub seemed to wrap around the people like a warm blanket, adding to the cozy atmosphere. The fellows at the table wanted to talk their fill about anything and everything during their reunion. War memories were laced with a bittersweet nostalgia. They were willing to make the most out of their newfound freedom. Hope for a better future kept them all going in the face of the grim reality.
There also were several poignant moments when they mentioned their fallen comrades who never made it back home, comrades, whose memory would forever be ingrained in their minds. At this moment their faces instantly turned grim and they fell into a heavy silence. After that they commemorated their friends with shots of whiskey and shared old stories about them. They prattled away about life until the wee hours.
"There are two kinds of people in this world," Hans slurred, pausing to take another artless swig. "Those who fight and know all the atrocities of wars inside out and those who advocate for war but would never step foot on the battlefield themselves."
Mark chimed in: What about the third kind of people?
«What kind?» - Hans blurted.
«People who deprecate war and who didn’t have to be smeared by war firsthand». – his voice faltered.
«Oh man, I think you had one too many» - Hans chuckled a bit.
«That’s what you always say when you’re stumped for an answer». – Mark cracked a barely perceptible smile.
«Are you being smart with me?» - Hans giggled and all the rest of the guys joined in a hearty laughter.
All the lads definitely were having a ball, laughing uproariously and time seemed to stand still for them.
As the night wore on, the noise from the rowdy crowd started to die down leaving behind only a handful of stalwart drinkers nursing their drinks. Some drinkers sprawled out across the counter and passed out right there. All you could hear was a radio blaring in the background announcing the end of war. The smoke was still lingering in the air. The bartender, a grizzled old man with weariness etched on his face, slowly wiped down the counter.