Life in a German Crack RegimentBaudissin, Wolf Ernst Hugo Emil, Graf von
General
Life in a German Crack Regiment
Baudissin, Wolf Ernst Hugo Emil, Graf von
Germany. Heer -- Military life -- Fiction; Soldiers -- Fiction
The other did not press him further, and so with a few words they
took leave of one another.
Winkler called a fly; it was nearly three o'clock when he at last
reached the hotel in which he had taken rooms for the time being.
"Have any letters come for me?" he inquired. He had had no news
from home for three days; he had telegraphed to his parents that he
would be in Berlin to-day, and he hoped to receive a warm letter of
greeting from them.
The porter looked through the letters.
"Nothing has come for you, sir."
Winkler could scarcely conceal his disappointment. Just to-day when
he felt so terribly solitary and alone a kindly letter from his
parents would have been so very welcome. He had been quite prepared
for not being warmly welcomed by his new regiment, but he had not had
the faintest idea that the officers would have received him with such
coldness and such aversion.
"The key is in the room upstairs, sir."
With a troubled air he went upstairs. To his astonishment the door
of the sitting-room was not locked, and when he opened it and walked
into the rooms he was greeted with a loud, hearty laugh.
"Ha! ha! George, my boy, here's a surprise for you, isn't it? I told
the porter I'd wring his neck if he told you of my arrival; for two
hours I've been sitting here and waiting for you. Now, thank heaven,
you're here at last. And how fine you look, my boy, your mother would
burst with pride if she could see you now. Of course, the first thing
you'll do is to go and be photographed."
And with justifiable paternal pride and the keenest delight the
manufacturer to His Majesty embraced his son.
When George had at last freed himself, he said:
"Father, this is indeed a surprise. However did you get here?"
The old man, about sixty years of age, of medium height and strongly
built, with a broad ruddy face, large grey eyes and thick bushy
brows, whose appearance all betokened iron will and energy and great
self-confidence, looked at his son with a satisfied glance. "Do you
know your father so little, that you thought he would let you be here
alone to-day? I wanted to help you to find rooms, but above all I
wanted to hear how things were going with you, and to hear everything
that people had said to you to-day. Now begin and tell me everything."
George had taken off his helmet and scarf, and changed his military
coat for a comfortable loose jacket; then he took one of the cigars
which his father offered him, and sank down into a chair.
"Now, my boy, do begin and tell me everything; surely you can talk
while you're changing your things. I know you always say, 'One thing
at a time,' but I say one can do several things at the same time. Do
you think I should have succeeded so well if I had done otherwise?
Why, to-day, I had my lunch standing, with my left hand I ate, and
with my right I wrote several notes, and at the same time I gave my
clerks all kinds of orders and commissions. So now, fire away."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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