In the book, All Quiet on the Western Front, by Erich Maria Remarque and Arthur Wesly Wheen, our main character has to deal with his friend slowly dying without anyone helping. Throughout many battles in the war they have both seen and experienced many deaths; however, they have never seen one to someone as close as a friend.  Here we visit the hospital where Franz is lying in bed completely exhausted and barely gripping onto life. It’s known to him that he has lost his leg and his watch. He’s also aware of the possibility that he may soon lose his life. Our main character tries to comfort Franz as best as he can and trying to take his mind off of the fact that he is dying, and dying quickly. 

“They have amputated my leg.’

He knows it too then. I nod and answer: ‘You must be thankful you’ve come off with that.’

He is silent.

I resume: ‘It might have been both legs, Franz. Wegeler has lost his right arm. That’s much worse. Besides, you will be going home.” He looks at me. ‘Do you think so?’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you think so?’ he repeats.

‘Sure, Franz. Once you’ve got over the operation.’

He beckons me to bend down. I stoop over him and he whispers: ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Don’t talk rubbish; Franz, in a couple of days you’ll see for yourself. What is it anyway—an amputated leg? Here they patch up far worse things than that.”

Here this would seal the fate of Franz. He began to lose faith that he would live, and his life would then proceed the way that he believed. The loss of his friend will surely have an impact on our main character because even a loss of a friend can seem to be a loss of a part of yourself. A situation like this would suck in the shoes of Franz and the main character because none of the doctors are taking notice of the death that is taking place. Their only response to it is, “It’s just the seventeenth death today.” In the next chapter I wonder how our main character is going to respond to the loss of his life-long friend.