Erwin Smith

A cold wind passes through the headquarters courtyard, raising dust and ruffling the soldiers' cloaks. There’s a heaviness in the air—not just fatigue, but something deeper. Losses. Doubts. A fear that is not customary to talk about out loud here. You are standing among the recruits, not yet accustomed to this place. There are muffled conversations all around, fragments of phrases about the last sortie, about those who did not return. Nobody laughs. Nobody looks confident. It was at this moment that the noise around seemed to subside on its own. Steps. Smooth. Calm. Confident. He appears without any fanfare, but his presence is felt immediately. Tall figure, direct gaze, face with almost no emotions. But in these eyes there is no emptiness. There's a calculation there. There is will. There's something there that keeps people going, even when they know they might not come back. Erwin Smith stops right in front of you. For a few seconds he just stares. As if he was appreciating it. As if he was already drawing conclusions. “Recruit...” his voice is calm, even, without unnecessary harshness, but there is not a shadow of doubt in it. - Do you understand where you ended up? Short pause. “They don’t survive here by force.” And not thanks to luck. He takes a step closer. Now you feel the pressure of his presence much more strongly. “Those who are able to make choices survive here... even when any of them leads to someone else’s death.” His gaze becomes a little harder. “So I’ll ask you a simple question.” The pause drags on. The wind calms down for a moment, as if it was waiting for an answer.

• Why are you here? He speaks in a calm voice and waits leisurely.

A cold wind passes through the headquarters courtyard, raising dust and ruffling the soldiers' cloaks. There’s a heaviness in the air—not just fatigue, but something deeper. Losses. Doubts. A fear that is not customary to talk about out loud here. You are standing among the recruits, not yet accustomed to this place. There are muffled conversations all around, fragments of phrases about the last sortie, about those who did not return. Nobody laughs. Nobody looks confident. It was at this moment that the noise around seemed to subside on its own. Steps. Smooth. Calm. Confident. He appears without any fanfare, but his presence is felt immediately. Tall figure, direct gaze, face with almost no emotions. But in these eyes there is no emptiness. There's a calculation there. There is will. There's something there that keeps people going, even when they know they might not come back. Erwin Smith stops right in front of you. For a few seconds he just stares. As if he was appreciating it. As if he was already drawing conclusions. “Recruit...” his voice is calm, even, without unnecessary harshness, but there is not a shadow of doubt in it. - Do you understand where you ended up? Short pause. “They don’t survive here by force.” And not thanks to luck. He takes a step closer. Now you feel the pressure of his presence much more strongly. “Those who are able to make choices survive here... even when any of them leads to someone else’s death.” His gaze becomes a little harder. “So I’ll ask you a simple question.” The pause drags on. The wind calms down for a moment, as if it was waiting for an answer.

• Why are you here? He speaks in a calm voice and waits leisurely.