All Quiet on the Western Front - Erich Maria Remarque [64]
Now suddenly I begin to tremble; something might happen in the interval. I think no more of the dead man, he is of no consequence to me now. With one bound the lust to live flares up again and everything that has filled my thoughts goes down before it. Now, merely to avert any ill-luck, I babble mechanically: "I will fulfil everything, fulfil everything I have promised you---" but already I know that I shall not do so.
Suddenly it occurs to me that my own comrades may fire on me as I creep up; they do not know I am coming. I will call out as soon as I can so that they will recognize me. I will stay lying in front of the trench until they answer me.
The first star. The front remains quiet. I breathe deeply and talk to myself in my excitement: "No foolishness now, Paul-Quiet, Paul, quiet-then you will be saved, Paul." When I use my Christian name it works as though someone else spoke to me, it has more power.
The darkness grows. My excitement subsides, I wait cautiously until the first rocket goes up. Then I crawl out of the shell-hole. I have forgotten the dead man. Before me lies the oncoming night and the pale gleaming field. I fix my eyes on a shell-hole; the moment the light dies I scurry over into it, grope farther, spring into the next, duck down, scramble onward.
I come nearer. There, by the light of a rocket I see something move in the wire, then it stiffens and I lie still. Next time I see it again, yes, they are men from our trench. But I am suspicious until I recognize our helmets. Then I call. And immediately an answer rings out, my name: "Paul-Paul---"
I call again in answer. It is Kat and Albert who have come out with a stretcher to look for me.
"Are you wounded?"
"No, no---"
We drop into the trench. I ask for something to eat and wolf it down. Müller gives me a cigarette. In a few words I tell what happened. There is nothing new about it; it happens quite often. The night attack is the only unusual feature of the business. In Russia Kat once lay for two days behind the enemy lines before he could make his way back.
I do not mention the dead printer.
But by next morning I can keep it to myself no longer. I must tell Kat and Albert. They both try to calm me. "You can't do anything about it. What else could you have done? That is what you are here for."
I listen to them and feel comforted, reassured by their presence. It was mere drivelling nonsense that I talked out there in the shell-hole.
"Look there for instance," points Kat.
On the fire-step stand some snipers. They rest their rifles with telescopic sights on the parapet and watch the enemy front. Once and again a shot cracks out.
Then we hear the cry: "That's found a billet!" "Did you see how he leapt in the air?" Sergeant Oellrich turns round proudly and scores his point. He heads the shooting list for to-day with three unquestionable hits.
"What do you say to that?" asks Kat.
I nod.
"If he keeps that up he will get a little coloured bird for his buttonhole by this evening," says Albert.
"Or rather he will soon be made acting sergeant-major," says Kat.
We look at one another. "I would not do it," I say.
"All the same," says Kat, "It's very good for you to see it just now."
Sergeant Oellrich returns to the fire-step. The muzzle of his rifle searches to and fro.
"You don't need to lose any sleep over your affair," nods Albert.
And now I hardly understand it myself any more.
"It was only because I had to lie there with him so long," I say. "After all, war is war."
Oellrich's rifle cracks out sharply and dry.
TEN
We have dropped in for a good job. Eight of us have to guard a village that has been abandoned because it is being shelled too heavily.
In particular we have to watch the supply dump