Chapter 2 It is strange to think that at
home in the drawer of my writing table
there lies the beginning of a play
called "Saul" and a bundle of poems. Many
an evening I've worked over them--- we all
did something of the kind--- but that has
become so unreal to me that I cannot
comprehend it any more.
Our early life is cut off from the moment we
came here, and that without our lifting a
hand. We often try to look back on it and
to find an explanation, but never quite
succeed. For us young men of twenty
everything is extraordinarily vague, for
Kropp, Muller, Leer, and for me, for all of us
whom Kantorek calls the "Iron Youth."
All the older men are linked up with
their previous lives. They have wives,
children, occupations, and interests, they
have a background which is so strong
that the war can not obliterate it. We
young men of twenty, however, have only our
parents, and some, perhaps, a girl--- that is
not much, for at our age the influence of
parents is at its weakest and girls have
not yet got a hold over us. Besides this
there was little else--- some enthusiasm, a
few hobbies, and our school. Beyond this
our life did not extend. And of this
nothing remains.
Kantorek would say that we stood on the
threshold of life. And so it would seem.
We had as yet taken no root. The war
swept us away. For the others,
the older men, it is but an interruption.
They are able to think beyond it. We
however have been gripped by it and do
not know what the end may be. We know
only that in some strange and melancholy
way we have become a waste land. All the
same, we are not often sad. Though Muller
would be delighted to have Kemmerich's
boots, he is really quite as sympathetic
as another who could not bear to think
such a thing for grief. He merely sees
things clearly. Were Kemmerich able to
make any use of the boots, then Muller
would rather go barefoot over barbed
wire than scheme how to get hold of them.
But as it is the boots are quite
inappropriate
to Kemmerich's circumstances, whereas
Muller can make good use of them. Kemmerich will die; it is immaterial who gets them.
Why, then, should Muller not succeed to
them? He has more right than a hospital
orderly. When Kemmerich is dead it will be
too late.
Therefore Muller is already on the watch.
We have lost all sense of other
considerations, because they are
artificial. Only the facts are real and
important to us. And good boots are
scarce. Once it was different. When we
went to the district commandant to
enlist, we were a class of twenty young
men, many of whom proudly shaved for the
first time before going to the barracks.
We had definite plans for our future. Our
thoughts of a career and occupation were
as yet of too unpractical a character to
furnish any scheme of life. We were still
crammed full of vague ideas which gave to
life, and to the war also an ideal and
almost romantic character. We were
trained in the Army for ten weeks and in
this time more profoundly influenced
than by ten years at school. We learned
that a bright button is weightier than
four volumes of Schopenhauer. At first
astonished, then embittered, and finally
indifferent, we recognized that what
matters is not the mind but the boot
brush, not intelligence but the system,
not freedom but drill. We became soldiers
with eagerness and enthusiasm, but they
have done everything to knock that out
of us.
After three weeks it was no longer
incomprehensible to us that a braided
postman should have more authority over us
than had formerly our parents, our
teachers, and the whole gamut of culture
from Plato to Goethe. With our young,
awakened eyes we saw that the classical
conception of the Fatherland held by our
teachers resolved itself here into a
renunciation of personality such as one
would not ask of the meanest servants--
salutes, springing to attention, parade-
marches, presenting arms, right wheel, left
wheel, clicking the heels, insults, and a
thousand pettifogging details. We had
fancied our task would be different, only
to find we were to be trained for
heroism as though we were circus-ponies.
But we soon accustomed ourselves to it.
We learned in fact that some of these
things were necessary, but the rest
merely show. Soldiers have a fine nose
for such distinctions. By threes and
fours our class was scattered over the
platoons amongst Frisian fishermen,
peasants, and labourers with whom we soon
made friends. Kropp, Muller, Kemmerich, and I
went to No. 9 platoon under
Corporal Himmelstoss. He had the
reputation of being the strictest
disciplinarian in the camp, and was proud
of it. He was a small undersized fellow
with a foxy, waxed mustache, who had seen twelve
years' service and was in civil life a
postman. He had a special dislike of
Kropp, Tjaden, Westhus, and me, because he
sensed a quiet defiance. I have remade his
bed fourteen times in one morning. Each time he
had some fault to find and pulled it to
pieces. I have Kneaded a pair of
prehistoric boots that were as hard as
iron for twenty hours--with intervals of
course--until they became as soft as
butter
and not even Himmelstoss could find
anything more to do to them; under his
orders I have scrubbed out the corporals
mess with a toothbrush crop and I were
given the job of clearing the barracks
square of snow with a hand broom and a
dustpan
and we would have gone on till we were
frozen had not a lieutenant accidentally
appeared who sent us off and hauled him
else toss over the coals but the only
result of this was to make him estas
hate us more for six weeks consecutively
I did guard every Sunday and was hot
orderly for the same length of time with
a full pack and rifle I have had to
practice on wet soft
newly plowed field the prepare to
advance advance and the lie down until I
was one lump of mud and finally
collapsed four hours later had to report
to him estas with my clothes scrubbed
clean my hands chafed and bleeding
together with crop Huestis and Haden I
have stood at attention a hard frost
without gloves for a quarter of an hour
to stretch while Himmel Stas watched for
the slightest movement of our bare
fingers on the steel barrel of the rifle
I have run eight times from the top
floor of the barracks down to the
courtyard in my shirt at two o'clock in
the morning because my drawers projected
three inches beyond the edge of the
stool on which one had to stack all
one's things alongside me ran the
Corporal Himmel Stas and trod on my bare
toes at bayonet practice I had
constantly to fight him all Stas hai
with a heavy iron weapon whilst he had a
heavy wooden one with what she easily
struck my arms till they were black and
blue once indeed I became so Imperial
that I ran at him blindly and gave him a
mighty jab in the stomach and knocked
him down when he reported me the company
commander laughed at him and told him he
had to keep his eyes open he understood
Hamel Stas and apparently was not
displeased at his discomfiture I became
a past master on the parallel bars and
excelled at physical jerks
we have trembled at the mere sound of
his voice but his runaway post doors
never got the better of us one Sunday
his crop and I were lugging a latrine
bucket on a pole
across the barrack yard Himmel Stas came
by all polished up and spry for going
out he planted himself in front of us
and asked how we liked the job in spite
of ourselves we tripped and emptied the
bucket over his legs he raved but the
limit had been reached
that means clink he yelled the crop had
had enough there will be an inquiry
first he said and then we'll unload mind
how you speak to a non-commissioned
officer bald Himmel Stas have you lost
your senses you wait till you're spoken
to what will you do anyway show you up
corporal said crop his thumbs in line
with the seams of his trousers
Himmel Stas saw that wee minute and went
off without saying a word but before he
disappeared he growled you'll drink this
but that was the end of his authority he
tried it on once more in the ploughed
field with his prepare to advance
advance and lie down we obeyed each
order since an orders an order and has
to be obeyed but we did it so slowly
that Himmel Stas became desperate
carefully we went down on our knees then
our hands and so on in the meantime
quite infuriated he had given another
command but before we even begun to
sweat he was hoarse after that he left
us in peace he did indeed always refer
to us as swine but there was
nevertheless a certain respect in his
tone there were many other staff
corporals the majority of whom were more
decent but above all each of them wanted
to keep his good job there as long as
possible and this he could do only by
being strict with the recruits so we
were put through every conceivable
refinement of parade-ground soldiering
that we often howled with rage many of
us became ill through it
wolf actually
died of inflammation of the lung but we
would have felt ridiculous how we hauled
down our colors we became hard
suspicious pitiless vicious tough and
that was good for these attributes were
just what we lacked had we gone into the
trenches without this period of training
most of us would certainly have gone mad
only thus were we prepared for what a
way to this we did not break down but
adapted ourselves our twenty years which
made many and other things so grievous
helped us in this but by far the most
important result was that an awakened in
us a strong practical sense of a
spearhead decor which in the field
developed into the finest thing that
arose out of the war comradeship I sit
by Kim Rich's bed he is sinking steadily
around us as great commotion a hospital
train has arrived and the wounded fit to
be moved are being selected the doctor
passes by Kim Rich's bed that once
looking at him
next time Franz I say he raises himself
on the pillow with his elbows they have
amputated my leg he knows it too then I
nod an answer you must be thankful
you've come off with that he is silent I
resumed it might have been both legs
Franz wiggler has lost his right arm
that's much worse besides you'll 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 days you'll see for yourself what
is it anyway an amputated leg here they
patch up far worse things than that he
lifts one hand look here though these
fingers that's a result of the operation
just eat decently and you'll soon be
well again
do they look after you properly he
points to a dish that is still half full
I get excited Franz you must eat eating
is the main thing that looks good too he
turns away after a pause he says slowly
I wanted to become a head Forester once
so you may still I assure him so there
are splendid artificial limbs now you'd
hardly know there was anything missing
there fixed onto the muscles you can
move the fingers and and work and even
write with an artificial hand and
besides they will always be making new
improvement for a while he lies still
then he says you can take my lace-up
boots with you from Muller I nod and
wonder what to say to encourage him his
lips have fallen away his mouth has
become larger his teeth stick out and
look as though they were made of chalk
the flesh melts the forehead bulges more
prominently the cheekbones protrude the
skeleton is working itself through the
eyes are already sunken in a couple
hours
it will all be over he is not the first
that I've seen this but we grew up
together and that always makes it a bit
different I have copied his essays at
school we used to wear a brown coat with
a belt and shiny sleeves he was only one
of us - who could do the Giants turn on
the horizontal bar his hair flew in his
face like silk when he did it
Cantor AK was proud of him but he
couldn't stand cigarettes his skin was
very white he had something of the girl
about him I glanced at my boots they are
big and clumsy the breeches are tucked
into them and standing up one looks
well-built and powerful in these great
drain pipes but when we go bathing in
strip suddenly we have slender legs
again in slight shoulders we are no
longer soldiers but a little more than
boys no one would believe that we carry
packs it is a strange moment when we
stand naked then we become civilians and
almost feel ourselves to be so
when bathing Franz Kim rich looked a
slight and frail as a child there he
lies now but why the whole world ought
to pass by this bed and say that is
Franz Kim rich nineteen and a half years
old he doesn't want to die let him not
die my thoughts become confused this
atmosphere of carbolic and gangrene
clogs the lungs
it is a thick gruel it suffocates it
grows dark Kim Rich's face changes color
it lifts from the pillow in a so pale
that it gleams the mouth moves slightly
I draw near to him he whispers if you
find my watch send it home I do not
reply it is no use anymore
no one can consult him I am rats with
helplessness this forehead with its
hollow temples this mouth that now seems
all teeth the sharp nose and the fat
weeping woman at home to whom I must
write if only the letter were sent off
already Hospital orderlies go to and fro
with bottles and pails one of them comes
up casts a glance at Kim rich and goes
away again you can see he is waiting
apparently he wants the bed I bend over
Franz and talked to him as though that
could save him perhaps you will go to
the convalescent home at close to Berg
among the villas Franz then you can look
out from the window across the fields to
the two trees on the horizon it is the
loveliest time of year now when the corn
ripens at evening the fields in the
sunset look like mother-of-pearl and the
lane of poplars by the close to batch
where we used to catch sticklebacks you
can build an aquarium again and keep
fish in it and he can go without asking
anyone you can even play the piano if
you want to I leaned down over his face
which lies in the shadow he still
breathe lightly his face is wet he is
crying
what a fine mess I've made of it with my
foolish talk but Franz I put my arm
around his shoulder and put my face
against his will you sleep now he does
not answer the tears run down his cheeks
I'd like to wipe them away but my
handkerchief is too dirty and Howard
passes I said tensely and watches every
movement in case he may perhaps say
something what if he were to open his
mouth and cry out but he only weeps his
head turned aside he does not speak of
his mother or his brothers and sisters
he says nothing all that lies behind him
he is entirely alone now with his little
life of nineteen years who cries because
it leaves him this is the most
disturbing and hardest parting that I've
ever seen although it was pretty bad too
with Tegan it called for his mother a
big bear of a fellow who with wild eyes
full of terror held off the doctor from
his back with a dagger until he
collapsed suddenly Kim rich groaned and
begins to gurgle I jump up stumble
outside and demand where is the doctor
where is the doctor as I kept side of
the white apron I seized hold of it come
quick Franz Kim rich is dying he frees
himself and asks an orderly standing by
which will that be he says bed 26
amputated thigh he sniffs how should I
know anything about it I've amputated
five legs today he shoves me away says
to the hospital orderly you see to it
and hurries off to the operating room a
tremble of rage as I go along the
orderly the man looks at me and says one
operation after another since five
o'clock this morning
you know today alone there have been 16
deaths yours is 17 there will probably
be 20 altogether I become faint all at
once I cannot do anymore I won't revile
anymore
it is senseless I could drop down and
never rise up again we are by Kim Rich's
bed he is dead the face is still wet
from the tears the eyes are half open
and yellow like old horn buttons the
orderly pokes me in the ribs are you
taking his things with you I nod he goes
on we must take him away at once we want
the bed outside there lying on the floor
I collect Kim Rich's things and then tie
his identification disc the orderly asks
about the pay book I say that it is
probably in the orderly room and go
behind me they are already hauling
fronds onto a waterproof sheet outside
the door I'm aware of the darkness and
the wind as a deliverance I breathe as
deep as I can and feel the breeze in my
face warm and soft is never before
thoughts of girls the flowery meadows of
white clouds suddenly come into my head
my feet began to move forward in my
boots I go quicker
I run soldiers pass by me I hear their
voices without understanding the earth
is streaming with forces which pour into
me through the soles of my feet the
night crackles electrically the front
thunders like a concert drum my limbs
move subtly I feel my joints strong I
breathe the air deeply the night lives I
live I feel a hunger greater than comes
from the belly alone Muller stands in
front of the hut waiting for me I give
him the boots we go in and he tries them
on they fit well he roots among his
supplies and offers me a fine piece of
saveloy with it goes hot tea and rum
