He died, saving a wounded man on the battlefield—only to wake up in the same hell, but now in 1941. The same gunfire, explosions, pain, and blood—only now, instead of someone shouting “Hands up!”, it’s “Hände hoch!” Reflexes of a surgeon and a fighter are tested by a new-old time: a squeeze—save your own; a shot—kill the enemy. That’s how his new Great War begins, and the former major, now again a sergeant, builds his new garrison.