Being forced to do everything in public means that as far as we are concerned, the natural innocence of the business has returned. In fact it goes further than that. It has become so natural to us, that the convivial performance of this particular activity is as highly valued as, well, holding a cast-iron certainty of a hand[23] when we are playing cards. It is not for nothing that the phrase latrine rumour[24] has come to mean all kinds of gossip; these places are the army equivalent of the street corner or a favourite bar.
Just at the moment we are happier than we would be in some luxuriously appointed lavatory, white tiles and all. The most a place like that could be is hygienic; out here, though, it is beautiful.
These are wonderfully mindless hours. The blue sky is above us. On the horizon we can see the yellow observation balloons[25] with the sun shining on them, and white puffs of smoke from the tracer bullets[26]. Sometimes you see a sudden sheaf of them going up, when they are chasing an airman.
The muted rumble of the front sounds like nothing more than very distant thunder. Even the bumble bees drown it out when they buzz past.
And all around us the fields are in flower. The grasses are waving, cabbage whites[27] are fluttering about, swaying on the warm breezes of late summer, while we read our letters and newspapers, and smoke; we take our caps off and put them on the ground beside us, the wind plays with our hair and it plays with our words and with our thoughts.
The three thunder-boxes are standing amid glowing red poppies.
We put the lid of the margarine tub on our knees and that gives us a solid base to play cards. Kropp has brought a pack. After every few hands we have a round of lowest score wins. You could sit like this for ever and ever.
There is the sound of an accordion coming from the huts. Every so often we put the cards down and look at one another. Then someone says, I tell you, lads or: It could easily have gone wrong that time and then we are silent for a moment. There is a strong feeling of restraint in us all, we are all aware of it and it doesnt have to be spelt out. It could easily have happened that we wouldnt be sitting on our boxes here today, it was all so damned close. And because of that, everything is new and full of life the red poppies, the good food, the cigarettes and the summer breeze.
Kropp asks, Have any of you seen Kemmerich again?
Hes over at St Joseph, I say.
Muller reckons that he got one right through the thigh[28], a decent blighty wound[29].
We decide to go and see him that afternoon.
Kropp pulls out a letter. Kantorek sends his regards.
We laugh. Muller tosses his cigarette away and says, I wish he was out here.
Kantorek was our form-master at school, a short, strict man who wore a grey frock-coat and had a shrewish face. He was roughly the same size and shape as Corporal Himmelstoss, the terror of Klosterberg Barracks. Incidentally, its funny how often the miseries of this world are caused by short people they are so much more quick-tempered and difficult to get on with than tall ones. I have always tried to avoid landing up in companies with commanders who are short usually they are complete bastards.
Kantorek kept on lecturing at us in the PT lessons until the entire class marched under his leadership down to the local recruiting office and enlisted. I can still see him, his eyes shining at us through his spectacles and his voice trembling with emotion as he asked, Youll all go, wont you lads?
Schoolmasters always seem to keep their sentiments handy in their waistcoat pockets; after all, they have to trot them out in lesson after lesson. But that never occurred to us for a moment at the time.
In fact, one of our class was reluctant, and didnt really want to go with us. That was Josef Behm, a tubby, cheerful chap. But in the end he let himself be persuaded, because he would have made things impossible for himself by not going. Maybe others felt the same way as he did; but it wasnt easy to stay out of it because at that time even our parents used the word coward at the drop of a hat. People simply didnt have the slightest idea of what was coming. As a matter of fact it was the poorest and simplest people who were the most sensible; they saw the war as a disaster right from the start, whereas those who were better off were overjoyed about it, although they of all people should have been in a far better position to see the implications.
Schoolmasters always seem to keep their sentiments handy in their waistcoat pockets; after all, they have to trot them out in lesson after lesson. But that never occurred to us for a moment at the time.
In fact, one of our class was reluctant, and didnt really want to go with us. That was Josef Behm, a tubby, cheerful chap. But in the end he let himself be persuaded, because he would have made things impossible for himself by not going. Maybe others felt the same way as he did; but it wasnt easy to stay out of it because at that time even our parents used the word coward at the drop of a hat. People simply didnt have the slightest idea of what was coming. As a matter of fact it was the poorest and simplest people who were the most sensible; they saw the war as a disaster right from the start, whereas those who were better off were overjoyed about it, although they of all people should have been in a far better position to see the implications.