Chapter Text
December 25th, 1941.
For every mother who sees their son return home alive and well, a wife loses her love amidst the blood and snow. For every bright smile created through Christmas cheer and presents, a child is ripped away from their parents in the toils of war. For every brave English and French soldier that risks their life day and night for the stability of the world, a group of German sentinels abandon the camp halls to indulge in a feast they do not deserve. Candles and cookies are given out by brainwashed girls to the troops they believe to be vital for the Holy Reich’s revival. The helpless Jewish prisoners starve even as banquets of duck, cabbage, beer and potato dumplings are devoured by the sinister Nazis. For a day of celebration, the cells of Stutthof are eerily quiet. Perhaps there would have been a carol or two sung if the men, women, and children inside had even a thread of hope left concerning their fates.
For Ludwig, this was the most anticipated day of his life. The emptiness was the best outcome he could have hoped for.
As a doctor, he was given special privileges as long as he agreed to patch up any guards who got themselves into trouble. He was still treated like dirt, but less time was spent in the back-breaking factories and he was occasionally given a book to read. Granted, most of the books were Nazi propoganda, but sitting alone with one’s thoughts brought on insanity much quicker than reading words on a page, no matter how degrading. With every wound he sewed, Ludwig’s heart cracked a little more, for each life saved meant death for thousands of his kind. He would never be able to forgive himself, yet all of his self-hatred and worry seemingly evaporated on Christmas Day.
When a middle-aged guard stumbled in front of the doctor’s cell drunk, bleeding from the shoulder, and demanding repair, Ludwig knew the moment of his escape had arrived. All he needed now was a convincing uniform.
“Wo ist Lukas? Das Ausbessern eines Schnitts dieser Grösse dauert weniger als eine Stunde,” a man asked his friend in the dining hall.
[Where is Lukas? Mending a cut of that size takes less than an hour.]
“Ich weiss nicht. Vielleicht sollten wir nach ihm sehen,” the other guard replied.
[I don’t know. Maybe we should check on him.]
Any conversations the captives would have been having were rendered dead at the sound of the sentinels' footsteps. Their intentions were to inspect the medical ward, but they found themselves stopping much sooner outside of Ludwig’s prison cell.
Their companion laid on the ground naked and strangled to death. The cell door was still, open and mocking, and panic ensued throughout the labor camp.
“Achtung! Unser Sicherheitssystem wurde durchbrochen und ein Mann ist entkommen! Durchsuchen Sie die Anlage und eliminieren Sie jeden einzelnen Juden, den Sie finden!” The PA system screeched.
[Attention! Our security system has been breached and a man has escaped! Search the facility and eliminate every single Jew you find!]
But ‘Lukas’ was already long gone.
He was running for his life. The terrified doctor shred the Nazi uniform despite the merciless winter air piercing his skin; he refused to be associated with that scum for even a second longer. The mounds upon hills of snow and the prickly branches of an evergreen forest lashed at him and slowed him down at every opportunity, but Ludwig did not stop.
He wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop. No matter how much his legs ached or how much his nose ran, his pace never faltered. He would run to the entire other side of the planet if he had to, for recapture was certain to end in more torture and death.
“Nein, ich werde nicht eingesperrt sterben,” he muttered to himself in between harsh pants.
[No, I will not die imprisoned.]
Against everything his mind and soul begged him to do, against everything his body was working towards, Ludwig came to an unforeseen pause. The force of the rapid stop of velocity practically caused the man to skid across the snow and ice. He could barely feel himself breathing anymore, for fear pulsed through every vein and neuron.
Across the vast winter forest, Ludwig’s eyes locked with those of a man who appeared to be setting up a bear trap. Even from such a distance, the doctor could determine that the other man was a giant; he was taller and broader than him with hands nearly the size of the trap he was handling. He wore a thick, black parka with sheep’s wool trim and tart red highlights. A decently pudgy belly loomed over the belt that held up the man's grey pants, and adorning his feet were a pair of dark rubber boots. He was surely toasty and content, at least compared to Ludwig’s near rags, but the image of someone warm and friendly was eliminated by the man’s headgear. His hat was round, black, and home to a yellow star in the center that could only suggest one thing: a Russian Ushanka.
Without second thought, the doctor resumed his mad dash for safety. Not only was he being tracked down by the Nazis, but now his life was being threatened by the Soviets as well. Was this the price of simply existing? His punishment for not being lucky enough to be born somewhere or as something else? These were the thoughts that passed through Ludwig’s mind as he weaved through the trees. Behind him, the pounding of footsteps rumbled his eardrums and fueled his adrenaline.
"Podozhdi! Pochemu ty ubegayesh'?” The giant yelled.
[Wait! Why are you running away?]
The tattered German picked up his pace.
“No! No! Stay avay from me!” He screamed back in a broken accent.
As the doctor approached the edge of the evergreen forest, he spotted a stream lined with slush covered rocks and ice crystals. He only had mere seconds to make a decision; should he jump into the river and risk dying of hypothermia? Or should he leap over the stream and prepare to face whatever lies out in the open?
Another cry from his pursuer urged Ludwig to side with the former.
Taking in a deep breath, his feet departed from the snow and were instead encased with freezing, soul-shattering water. The rest of his body soon followed, and the doctor struggled to swim down the current as one by one his limbs became numb. He could no longer hear anything above the surface; the German’s world had become nothing but the rushing of the rapids.
Closing his eyes and whispering his last prayers, Ludwig succumbed to the coolness of his stilling heart.