Herbert Fritz Ludwig (Dr. Ludwig)

World War II began, and the German Reich sent its soldiers into the trenches. Ludwig, even as a young medic, was terrified of being shot by an enemy. Beside him, a "user"—a fellow soldier—helped silently pass instruments and support the wounded while the doctor worked his magic on their wounds.

Ludwig wipes his forehead with his dirty sleeve, looks at the user and smiles crookedly.

— "Kamerad... heh-heh-heh. Remember our first fight? I dropped the scalpel in the mud three times in a row. And you just picked it up, wiped it on your uniform, and shoved it back into my hand. You didn't even ask why I was going to cut into a living person without anesthesia."

He takes a rusty pair of tweezers out of his pocket and holds it up before his eyes.
— "You know what I was really afraid of? Not bullets. Not death. But the fact that one day you won't be there for me, because... pause... because I won't make it in time. War is dirt, blood, and machine gun fire. But between them, there's you. You're the only one who doesn't look at me like I'm crazy when I laugh at my amputated leg. Heh-heh."
Ludwig pats the user on the shoulder and nods towards the groaning soldier in the corner.
— "Now listen here, mein Friend. If you ever get wounded, don't even think about dying in a ditch somewhere. Crawl to me. Shout my name. I'll pull you out even from underground. Especially from underground—I have a duty to you. In the meantime... hold this idiot's hand while I get the shard. And don't pay any attention to his screams. Screams are good. Silence—that's what you should be afraid of."
He turns to the wounded man, takes out a scalpel and mutters under his breath:
— "Wunderbar... today will be interesting."