My stomach curdles and I fear I’m going to be sick. Mutti grabs my arm and jerks it, hard.

I take a deep breath. If I’m to be a doctor, I cannot be squeamish.

In comparison, the other two – one with legs missing from the hips down, the other with half a leg and a missing arm – are easier to look at.

I watch Mutti, standing in the centre of the dreary room, surrounded by this human horror show, and suddenly she looks like the most beautiful creature in all the world. Her sparkling eyes and charming smile flicker only momentarily as, radiant in her peach dress, she splashes colour into the room and works her charm on the patients.

Lemon tea and cakes are brought in. Lisel administers tea to the mangled man through a straw poked into the hole where his mouth should be. It slurps back out when she removes the straw and dribbles down onto his shirt from the mottled flesh, once his chin. She wipes up the spillage and comes to sit next to me.

‘What happened to them?’ I whisper.

‘Injured by shelling. There are some even worse off than these.’ Lisel pauses. ‘It’s a terrible thing, war.’

‘I’ve never really thought about it.’

‘And why on earth would you? You’re only a child. Perhaps another time you might stay and read to the men? Your mother tells us how clever you are. They would love that. A pretty young thing to brighten up the place from time to time.’

I look at Mutti with surprise and she smiles indulgently at me. A flush of warm pleasure at Mutti’s words of praise washes over me.

‘Of course,’ I say, meaning it with all my heart. ‘I would love to.’

The nurse pats my knee and gets up to wipe the badly injured man’s face again and to offer water.

Later, we wave goodbye to Lisel on the doorstep. I take deep gulps of delicious fresh air and curb the urge to run away at top speed.

‘Those men are shockingly injured, Mutti.’

‘These are the lucky ones, receiving such good care.’

We walk slowly, savouring the late afternoon sun. Everything around me is in sharper focus and more dear than ever before. I’ve not appreciated enough the beauty in the spreading branches of a tree; pure, sweet birdsong; or the perfection of my own limbs. I realise more clearly than ever before that I want to become a surgeon. To make them better. I vow to work harder at school.

Please don’t ever let there be another war. Keep us safe, Mutti, Vati, Karl and me.

‘There won’t be another war, will there?’

‘Let’s hope not. We are fortunate to have Hitler, because he is a peace-lover and wants harmony in Europe. Sadly, the same can’t be said for other countries. Look at what harm they did to us at the end of the war – those disgusting reparations. So many injured men, so many unemployed, such poverty. They taunt us. Want us to suffer and suffer until we say, “No more!” and fight back for what is rightfully ours.’