Chapter Text
The air smelled like gunpowder and smoke as combat medic Ludwig walked through a village that his platoon had just claimed after fighting over it for two or three hours. The small, wooden houses had suffered from the gun fire and some of the more distant houses were lit on fire. The red army was attempting to burn everything whenever they were forced to retreat, but this time most of the village was saved from the flames. Better for Ludwig and his platoon - they might find something to eat in addition to their rations.
The medic let his eyes wander over the bodies of a couple fallen Soviet soldiers. They were dead, so there was no hurry to clear them away. Thankfully Ludwig’s side hadn’t gotten casualties and the only couple wounds suffered had been practically cleaning and dressing for him to do.
At the moment they were securing each of the buildings, making sure there were no more soldiers or civilians. Ludwig was walking with another man in the cool autumn evening. Sure, as a medic he probably shouldn’t be securing the buildings as the only weapon he was carrying was a pistol, but Ludwig was a curious man and he thought himself rather capable of defending himself if needed. Besides, he was paired up with Schneider, a man he had learned to trust and who was carrying a rifle.
Ludwig was holding his pistol in his hand and lifted it a little as they neared a door to a building they had been heading towards. Schneider looked at him, his hand on the door handle, making eye contact to wordlessly ask if he was ready. The medic nodded. Schneider nodded back at him and opened the door, his rifle held ready as he looked around the room. They were definitely not going by the book, but after being on the front for how long they had been, sometimes you just cut corners even if it could easily cost you your life.
“Empty,” Schneider said and stepped inside.
Ludwig followed right behind him. The room was a big one with a stove, a baking oven and a long table with many benches among other things. The sight was the same as they had seen many times already - the room looked ransacked as everything valuable had been taken in a hurry as the residents had run away and after that many others must have gotten in to see if there was anything useful left.
There were two doors from the first room. Ludwig and Schneider only glanced at each other as they walked further in, each going for one door. Ludwig watched how his friend disappeared into one of the rooms. “Bedroom. I’ll see if here’s anything worthwhile left,” he informed the medic.
Ludwig opened the other door, his pistol in his hand that was hanging by his side. Instantly he jumped in fear, his heart skipping a beat and he aimed his weapon at a huge figure on the floor in the far corner.
There was an enormous, Russian man, staring at him with a deadly glare. Ludwig tensed his finger on the trigger, ready to pull it. But as he hesitated for a heartbeat, his gaze lowered on the man’s blood-soaked shoulder. His brows furrowed and he still didn’t shoot. The man was wounded and by the amount of blood he could tell it wasn’t a mere scratch. The two of them stared at each other in silence that was only broken by the rummage from the other room and occasional sounds from outside. The Russian was bald, he had a strong jaw and his face hadn’t been shaved in a few days. From his clothes he knew that he was a soldier in the red army.
Even if the giant Russian’s strikingly blue eyes were full of defiance and fiery anger, Ludwig could see his laboured breaths and sweatiness of his face. He must have been weakened from the blood loss or otherwise he surely wouldn’t have been sitting in a corner, but would have attacked Ludwig the moment he had opened the door. He also took notice that the man didn’t have a gun, which was definitely another reason why the medic wasn’t dead yet.
“Ludwig!”
The medic jumped, quickly turning to look over his shoulder as Schneider called him. In a heartbeat he pulled the door almost closed, leaving it cracked, then he walked hurriedly to meet the man at the door to the other room.
“Found anything?” Schneider asked.
Ludwig’s heart was pounding frantically against his ribs, but he did his best to force the fear and shock away from his face. “ Nein. Just some mostly broken furniture. Did you?”
Schneider lifted up woolen mittens. “Yup! Mittens,” he said, smiling. Then he arched an eyebrow and nudged Ludwig’s upper arm with his fist. “Why so restless? This village is ours now.”
The medic forced a small smile on his lips and nodded. “True. I’m just a little stressed is all.” They started walking towards the front door to leave the house. “Actually, you go ahead. I could use some… private time,” he said, suggestively.
Schneider gave him a knowing look. “Private time, huh?” He grinned a little. “Yeah, relax a bit, but don’t take too long. If anyone has found something to eat, I can’t promise I can save anything for you for long.”
Ludwig offered a smile. “Thank you. I’ll join you shortly.”
“Yeah.” Schneider nodded and took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, starting to light one as he turned to walk away.
Ludwig closed the front door, then crossed the main room and stopped, pushing the nearly closed door slowly open. He was holding his breath, tense from uneasiness. Immediately he and the Russian man met eyes. The man had shifted a little, but was still sitting on the floor.
“I want to help you,” Ludwig said, speaking in a quiet, calm voice. He was certain the man didn’t understand German, at least not more than a few words that one could pick up on the battlefield, and he couldn’t speak Russian, so he’d have to try to convince him through the tone of his voice and gestures. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He slowly lowered his pistol on the floor at the doorway. The man was glaring at him silently, not showing any signs that he wanted help.
“I’m a combat medic. See?” Ludwig said, turning a little to show and point at the armband on his upper left sleeve. It was white with a red cross. For the first time Ludwig wished he had a similar vest or a painted helmet to show that he belonged to the medical staff. On the western front many of his brothers-in-arms had improvised those, but on the eastern front they didn’t wear them. Despite the Geneva Conventions, which should have forbidden attacking medical staff, the Soviets seemed to find the red cross a mark to shoot them first. Thus they didn’t use any extra signs to distinguish themselves on this front, only the obligatory armband.
“I’m a medic,” he repeated. “I save lives.” He faced the man fully again, pointed at him then at his own shoulder. “You’re wounded.” He moved his bag to the front, taking out a roll of bandages. “Let me help.”
The giant man only glared at him, not showing any signs to one way or the other, whether he wanted help or not.
Ludwig swallowed. He wanted to help and he didn’t have a lot of time. He knew this could end very badly for him, but still he took a careful step closer. “I won’t hurt you,” he said calmly. It was impressive that he managed to keep his voice from trembling. “So please, in return, don’t hurt me.” He took another step closer.
The Russian shifted a little to sit straighter. It made Ludwig pause, then with a fluttering heart he took yet another slow step closer, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible. Their eye connection never broke. The closer he got, the more aware he became of just how large the man was. He felt really threatened as he started kneeling down in front of him.
As soon as he was at the eye level with the other, the Russian’s hand struck forward, seizing a grip around Ludwig’s throat. The grip was iron tight and yet tightening. The man's hand was so huge it practically got around his entire throat and neck and Ludwig was certain he could just break his neck if he didn’t feel like choking him to death. The man's face twisted in anger, brows knitting deeper together, and he bared his teeth. Throughout this all the eye connection remained.
Ludwig’s mind was overwhelmed with panic and his hands immediately shot up in a vain attempt to pry the giant's hand open, dropping the bandages on the floor. It hurt and he felt how the lack of oxygen was quickly affecting his brain, making him feel faint.
The medic let his hands drop, feeling his bag under one of his arms. In there he had his bonesaw. It wasn’t the most practical weapon, but he knew just the right angle he should swing it to cut open the man's arteries at his throat. He had once killed an enemy with it before. He slid his hand into the bag.
Just when his fingers touched the steel of the saw, the Russian’s expression changed and he released Ludwig, who stumbled a little until he steadied himself, thus being on all fours on the floor in front of the huge man. Some of the contents of his bag had spilled on the floor as he had hastily pulled his hand out to steady himself. The medic was coughing and gasping for air, quickly lifting his gaze up to meet the Russian’s eyes again. He was still glaring down at him.
Ludwig swallowed, his throat hurting and he rubbed it with his hand as he spoke up again: “ Danke. For sparing me.” He glanced to the side before looking back at him. “I know you have every reason to kill me. But I honestly want to help you.”
The man glared at him loathingly. “ Nazi, ” he growled quietly.
Ludwig’s eyebrows knitted deeply together. “ Nein, ” he said, then lowered his tone. It was a dangerous thing to say. “I’m not,” he simply said. He didn’t share the beliefs. It’s not like he had a choice whether or not he wanted to be on the battlefield. He pointed at the man’s blood soaked shoulder and picked up a roll of bandages. “Can I?”
The giant of a man narrowed his eyes, then let out a deep, rumbling hum.
Ludwig wasn’t sure if that was a ‘go-ahead’, but he decided to take it as so. “Your shirt,” he said and tugged the hem of his own shirt up, then pointed at the other.
The Russian man only stared, either not understanding or not cooperating. Ludwig guessed the latter one.
“Okay, that’s fine,” he said and took out a bottle of disinfectant and ripped a few pieces from the bandage. He poured some of the disinfectant on one of the pieces and lifted it up, inching a bit closer. “May I?”
A moment passed, Ludwig practically holding his breath, then the Russian nodded.
The medic, for some reason, felt relieved and he moved carefully closer, then finally got to inspect the wound. The blood-soaked fabric was in the way, but he'd have to make do. It was a bullet wound on his shoulder only about 15 centimeters away from his heart. It wasn't a fatal wound as long as the bleeding wasn't too bad and it didn’t get infected.
“This will hurt,” Ludwig said and started wiping the wound. The Russian’s facial muscles twitched a little and the rest of his body tensed, but that was all.
“Is the bullet still there?” Ludwig asked and patted his own shoulder blade, then laid his hand on the other man's shoulder gently, carefully trying to turn him.
The man complied and turned to face the other way. The medic saw quickly that the bullet hadn’t pierced all the way through.
He leaned back and gently guided the man to face him again. “It didn’t pass through, though you obviously knew that,” he spoke even if he knew that the man didn’t understand any of it. “I need to remove it.” He took a case from his bag and opened it. In it were instruments to remove bullets and to sew wounds. He picked up tweezers. “You know what’s about to happen, ja? ” he said and lifted them towards the bullet wound in order to signal what he was going to do.
The Russian was following his every move, but didn’t object. In fact he tried to relax his shoulder.
Ludwig retreated the tweezers and placed them back down. “Even though you’re doing your best to hide it, I know that you’re in pain,” he said. He took out a morphine syrette, offering it towards the other man.
“ Nyet, ” the man declined without hesitation.
Ludwig nodded and put the syrette away. “I wouldn’t accept drugs from the enemy either. I still thought to offer.” He picked up the tweezers again and poured some disinfectant on them. He moved them closer to the giant again and as he wasn’t met with resistance, he guided them into the wound. The action earned a low growl from the man which made Ludwig retreat. “I'm sorry,” he said, but was quick to try again, determined to fix the wound up and be gone before someone would come looking for him.
The medic was biting his lip in nervousness as he tried to fish out the bullet. The lighting was bad for such a task so he had to go by the feeling alone. “I'm sorry, I know it hurts.”
The giant man did his best to hide his pain. Ludwig tended to be quick with his work, for better or worse, and thankfully after a minute he pulled out a bloody bullet, dropping it on the floor.
“Good,” he said and cleaned the wound some more. “Good. Okay… I got this,” he spoke to himself and took out more bandages, rolling them open for a little. “I should tie it now. It'd help if you took off your shirt, but if not then no.” He again tugged the hem of his own shirt up.
This time the man complied and he pulled off his shirt, revealing his bare chest.
The medic cleaned the wound once again since after the removal of the shirt it was no longer clean - not to mention it was constantly bleeding. Then he started tying the bandages. It was harder than it normally was because of the size of the man. It was awkward and scary to be literally hugging the man to get the bandage around his body, but that’s what he ended up doing because there was no room for him to circle around him and he was a medic for fuck’s sake. He was just doing his job and he was in a hurry.
When Ludwig was securing the bandages, he glanced briefly at the other, meeting his eyes. “You're a good patient, not whining about the pain,” he spoke to fill the pressing silence. “Though, let’s not mention the attempted murder.” He swiped sweat off his temple. The weather was cold, but he was very nervous.
Instead of medical supplies, he now took his water bottle from his bag and placed it on the floor next to the Russian man. “Water.” He then took two slices of dry bread and a can of meat. It pained him to give away especially the canned meat, but for some reason he still laid it for the wounded man as well. “And food.” He glanced up briefly before lowering his gaze again. “It’s not much, but it’s all I can give.” It already meant he had to skip one meal.
The giant man was still watching him quietly, his demeanor unchanging.
“I’ve done everything I can, under these conditions anyways,” the medic said, checking his bag and laying a roll of bandages on the floor, so that the man could change them. Then he shifted a little further from him before he slowly stood up, avoiding sudden movements. “Try not to die. And stay quiet,” he said emphatically, pressing a finger against his lips in an attempt to get his point across as he looked into the other’s eyes.
The man only stared at him, holding his head up high proudly.
Ludwig backed away to the door, holding his hands out in front of himself, palms open and facing the floor as he tried to signal him to stay down, lay low and be hidden. “I won’t be coming back. Don’t come out before you are sure we’re gone.” He stepped out of the room while maintaining eye contact. He opened his mouth to say something, but wasn’t sure what to say. He had to go before someone would come look for him. He had done what he could and definitely risked enough.
He made a small bow, not knowing why. It was probably a stupid attempt to try to let the man know he respected him and saw him as an equal human being despite them being enemies. Still as soon as he had bowed he felt awkward and he closed the door quietly, picking up his pistol and walking away.
Leaving the building, the medic hoped that he’d never see the man again. If he did, it’d be in a battle and he knew the giant Russian would be a terrifying enemy.