Margarete serves as the novel’s deuteragonist and Lucius’s mentor, a resilient and pragmatic nurse who guides him through the brutal realities of wartime medicine. A round and dynamic character, she embodies the theme of Healing as an Act of Human Connection. When Lucius arrives at the church in Lemnowice, she presents herself as a Sister of Saint Catherine, a devout and formidable figure who has single-handedly managed the hospital after the flight of Lucius’s predecessor and the death of her fellow nurses. Armed with a rifle and an unshakable, if unconventional, faith, she immediately establishes her authority, questioning Lucius with a mix of deference and challenge: “The doctor? … Didn’t you just say you’re him?” (48). This pragmatism defines her approach to survival. She is resourceful, performing amputations alone and using the threat of withholding morphine to protect herself from harassment. Her deep understanding of the hospital’s horrors, from the typhus epidemic to the infestations of lice, reveals a hardened character who has adapted to the unforgiving environment of the Eastern Front. Beneath her tough exterior, Margarete possesses a profound and intuitive compassion. She teaches Lucius that true healing extends beyond technical skill. Her patient, hands-on care for the wounded contrasts sharply with Lucius’s initial, book-based approach. This is most evident in her treatment of József Horváth, whose trauma she addresses with gentle, persistent human connection. Her relationship with Lucius develops from one of mentorship into a deep romantic and intellectual bond, forged through their shared struggle to save lives. It is through this partnership that Lucius learns the value of empathy in medicine. However, Margarete remains a mysterious figure for much of the novel. Her background is a closely guarded secret, and her claim to be a nun is eventually revealed to be a fabrication. This hidden past suggests that her role as a caregiver is a chosen identity, perhaps born from a previous loss. Her courage culminates in a selfless act where she feigns madness to drive away Lieutenant Horst, risking her life to protect the psychologically wounded soldiers. Her final decision to build a life with the traumatized Horváth, while heartbreaking for Lucius, is a testament to her core commitment to healing as an act of love and devotion.

József Horváth, the titular “winter soldier,” is a symbolic figure who embodies the theme of The Invisibility and Misunderstanding of Psychological Trauma. He is a Hungarian soldier discovered nearly frozen in an abandoned ambulance, trapped in a state of catatonic mutism. As a character, he is a largely flat and static embodiment of war’s unseen wounds. His condition, diagnosed as “Nervenshock,” challenges the medical and military establishments, which acknowledge only visible, physical injuries. Horváth’s silence and stillness are a profound, nonverbal expression of the horrors he has witnessed, making him an enigma that Lucius is determined to solve. The drawings Horváth creates become a crucial symbol, offering a window into his fractured psyche. His sketches of the Grottenolm, the blind salamanders from Lucius’s childhood, create a mysterious and deeply personal connection between doctor and patient, symbolizing a shared vulnerability and the desire to perceive the hidden inner world of thought and trauma. Horváth is a catalyst for the development of other characters. He is the object of Margarete’s intuitive compassion and Lucius’s scientific ambition. The torture he endures from Lieutenant Horst illustrates the military’s failure to recognize trauma as a legitimate injury. While Lucius’s medical intervention brings about a temporary recovery, it is his hubris in preventing Horváth’s evacuation that leads to Horváth’s tragic maiming. Ultimately, Horváth’s fate is intertwined with Margarete’s, and their life together suggests a form of healing based on quiet companionship and compassion.

Lieutenant Horst is the novel’s primary antagonist, a flat and static character who personifies the dehumanizing and brutal logic of the military apparatus. As a conscription officer, his purpose is not to heal but to return men to battle, regardless of their condition. He embodies the institutional dismissal of psychological suffering, viewing the symptoms of “Nervenshock” as cowardice, insubordination, and malingering. His worldview directly clashes with the compassionate ethos of Lucius and Margarete, creating the central external conflict surrounding the care of traumatized soldiers. When tortures the vulnerable József Horváth, he acts as an agent of a system that actively harms those it fails to understand. This moment serves as a grim counterpoint to The Romantic Ideal of War Versus Its Brutal Reality, exposing the callousness that lies beneath patriotic duty. He is a foil to Margarete, representing a rigid and punitive authority that stands in direct opposition to her compassionate healing practice. Through his unwavering cruelty, Horst highlights the novel’s critique of a military culture that sees soldiers as disposable components of a war machine rather than as fragile human beings.

The orderlies at the Lemnowice hospital, primarily Zmudowski, Rzedzian, and Krajniak, are minor characters who provide humanity, humor, and a sense of community amidst the bleakness of the war. As largely flat characters, their role is to support the protagonists and ground the narrative in the everyday lives of the common soldier. Each orderly has a defining quirk that connects him to his pre-war life: Zmudowski is a passionate philatelist (postage stamp collector), Rzedzian is proud of sharing his name with a literary hero, and Krajniak is the one-handed cook who controls the hospital’s meager rations. These personal details humanize them and serve as a constant reminder of the worlds and identities the soldiers were forced to leave behind. Their storytelling creates a fragile mythology that fosters a sense of shared experience, forging a community from an assortment of strangers who have been brought together by chance. Through their tales of camaraderie, absurdity, and survival, they exemplify one facet of the theme of Healing as an Act of Human Connection, demonstrating how bonds forged in desperate circumstances can provide a remedy against despair. Their loyalty to Margarete and their acceptance of Lucius illustrate the formation of a makeshift family within the walls of the church, highlighting the importance of fellowship in enduring the traumas of war.