Sergeant Komarov was awakened by a strange silence, a kind unheard of since the day he was drafted and sent to the frontlines. When he looked around, he found himself alone in a snowy field. His unit was gone. The trenches and encampments, all vanished. No gunfire sounded in the distance, no rumble of artillery.

Slowly he stood up and looked around. The terrain looked the same. No one stole him in the night and dumped somewhere, it was still the same hilly plain with copses of trees that was the contested ground between the Russian army and the Ukrainian defenders for months now. No one disarmed him, either: his rifle and body armor were still with him.

He walked through the snow, looking for any signs of human presence, and he soon found some. There was a village in the horizon. It was the same village that was abandoned by its inhabitants and shelled into ruins months ago, except it was entirely intact. The chimneys were smoking. People were walking around with no fear. The village looked like there wasn't any war.

Komarov approached the village cautiously, not knowing if there are any soldiers residing there, Russian or Ukrainian, but as he came closer he saw no signs of military presence. Finally he met a villager, casually strolling along the snowy road.

"Hello!" Komarov said. "I may sound stupid, but I need to know: is this territory held by Russians or Ukrainians?"

"Are you daft, soldier?", the villager responded. "This is Soviet territory. This is the Lenin's Way Collective Farm!"