Klaus is an excellent liar. He puts this look in his eyes, this tremble in his voice, crookedly adjacent to sincerity. He’s easily believed. So, he’s the one holding their hands as they die.
“You’ll be fine, see; they’ll patch you up. Honourably discharge you I’ll bet.”
“You’re going home soon. Your wife’ll be pleased.”
“We’re gonna win, we’re close. Of course, it’s worth it.”
He feels their hands go lax in his, every time. He remains as they shift the once-men, now-corpses, freeing the bed for the next.
It doesn’t bother him. Not one bit.
Klaus is an excellent liar.