All quiet on the Western FrontRemarque, Erich Maria
History
All quiet on the Western Front
Remarque, Erich Maria
War stories; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
Eagerly we assure them that we will bring some with us. And other
tasty bits too, we roll our eyes and try to explain with our hands.
Leer nearly drowns trying to demonstrate a sausage. If it were
necessary we would promise them a whole quartermaster's store. They
go off and frequently turn and look back. We climb out on the bank
on our side of the canal and watch to see whether they go into the
house for they might easily have been lying. Then we swim back.
No one can cross the bridge without leave, so we will simply have to
swim over at night. We are full of excitement. We cannot last out
without a drink, so we go to the canteen where there is beer and a
kind of punch.
We drink punch and tell one another lying tales of our experiences.
Each man gladly believes the other man's story, only waiting
impatiently till he can cap it with a taller one. Our hands are
fidgety, we smoke countless cigarettes, until Kropp says: "We might
as well take them a couple of cigarettes too." So we put some inside
our caps to keep them.
The sky turns apple-green. There are four of us, but only three can
go; we must shake off Tjaden, so ply him with rum and punch until he
rocks. As it turns dark we go to our billets, Tjaden in the centre.
We are all glowing and full of a lust for adventure.
The little brunette is mine, we settled that by cutting for her.
Tjaden drops on his sack of straw and snores. Once he wakes up and
grins so craftily that we are alarmed and begin to think he is
cheating, and that we have given him the punch to no purpose. Then
he drops back again and sleeps on.
We each get hold of a whole army loaf and wrap it up in newspaper.
The cigarettes we put in too, as well as three good rations of
liver-sausage that were issued to us this evening. That makes a
decent present.
We stow the things carefully in our boots; we have to take them to
protect our feet against treading on wire and broken glass on the
other bank. As we must swim for it we can take no other clothes.
But it is not far and quite dark.
We make off with our boots in our hands. Swiftly we slip into the
water, lie on our backs and swim, holding the boots with their
contents up over our heads.
We climb out carefully on the opposite bank, take out the packages
and put on our boots. We put the things under our arms. And so, all
wet and naked, clothed only in our boots, we break into a trot. We
find the house at once. It lies among the trees. Leer trips over a
root and skins his elbows.
"No matter," he says gaily.
The windows are shuttered. We slip round the house and try to peer
through the cracks. Then we grow impatient. Suddenly Kropp
hesitates:
"What if there's a Major in with them?"
"Then we just clear off," grins Leer, "he can try to read our
regimental numbers here," and smacks his behind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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