"Ha, ha!" laughed Weise. "Well, now, think about it a moment. Over there in France are sitting together just such poor simple fellows as we are here. Ask them if they want to let themselves be shot dead in a moment without rhyme or reason? Do you expect them to say yes?" "No, of course not. But--but--then who is it who really does want war?" Weise did not speak for a moment, but laughed softly. Then he answered, shrugging his shoulders: "Ah, that I don't know. Probably nobody. So much only is clear: _we_ don't want it." During these conversations, Wolf, the lean gunner of the "old gang," was always careful to hold aloof. He listened to the talk, but never joined in it. When his comrades had gone in to bed, he would stay on, gazing out into the beautiful night of the woods. No one longed as fervently as he did for the end of the term of service. He, who had been wont to grudge every day on which he had done nothing to further the cause of revolution and social-democracy, was forbidden for two long years to allow a word to pass his lips about what lay nearest his heart! Yet he was all the more cautious not to commit any indiscretions that might perhaps entail a prolongation of the hateful restraint. Hitherto he had had but a vague comprehension of the idea of freedom; now he felt that he grasped it. Freedom! It meant the time after his discharge--the time when he would no longer wear the soldier's uniform! When, during these weeks, Wolf had been an auditor of Weise's covertly inflammatory speeches, he had longed each time to step forward and speak out too. He knew that his own words would have flowed far more convincingly and more passionately than Weise's. But he knew also that in such case he would only have the greater difficulty in restraining himself afterwards; so he kept silence. However, the end was attained without his help. It was quite remarkable how after such conversations these peasant lads and the others, who up to now had heard nothing of socialism and labour movements, rapidly assimilated the new and palatable wisdom, although no word of direct propaganda had been spoken. And if this result was so marked in their own corps, where the work was not very irksome or heavy, what must it not be among the infantry over yonder, where any small spark of liking for the soldier's life must be quenched by the deadly monotony of eternal parade-drill! Not long before, a man had suddenly gone mad in the middle of drill. What was responsible for this calamity? The sun, over-exertion, perhaps an inherited tendency that would in any case sooner or later have resulted in such a catastrophe? No one could say with any certainty. But the men who had seen and heard how the poor fellow writhed and shrieked, gripped their rifles tightly, and the same thought could plainly be read in the eyes of them all.