.Please, would you proofread my text.
As we walked along the path, we saw that on the other side of the river a building company had already started to raise the walls of the new blocks of flat [new blocks of flats/a new block of flats]. Katarina brandished her stick again and said, "You see how greedy our local government is. People have protested and collected thousands of signatures, but nothing has helped. They have already decided that for them making money is more important then anything.Once the buildings are finished, I don't know if I will/shall ever walk this path again."
She turned her face towards me and I saw that it was contorted in pain.
"And how did you survive all that killing and misery that had befallen your people?"
"I was a solder for three years. We hardly had any weapons in the beginning. Sometimes only old, rusty guns from World War Two."
"Did you kill people?" Again, I saw her eyes giving me a penetrating look.
"Probably. In every war you kill and also you get killed."
"And what was the worst moment to you?"
I thought for a second. I could have told her about the death of my friends who just a few minutes previously were chatting with me and in the next moment lay scattered around with their limbs and inner organs torn apart. I could have told her about raped women, operations carried out without anaesthetic and other terrible events which made an indelible marks on one's mind, but I remembered the first days of the war and said, "We were defending a village in the mountains. If it had not been for the war the place would have been an idyll. A brook ran through the village, its water so clear and clean that one could drink it, orchards swelled with fruits, gardens covered in beautiful flowers. The crisp mountain air filled our lungs invigorating our tired bodies.
"Suddenly, mortars started to fall from everywhere. People ran to their cellars, others to the forest. I saw a little girl, a doll in her hand, scuttling over [across] the street. Before she reached the other side, a shell exploded a few metres from her. Her cries were piercing. There was a pool of blood under her limb. A part of her leg was missing, but still she firmly clutched her doll."
I felt tears gathering in my eyes and I told Katarina I could not continue. The pain was too strong although many years had passed. She gave me a compassionate look, patted my shoulder and said, "It is all right. War is such a terrible experience..."
To be continued...