Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 92, Indianapolis, Marion County, 27 August 1929 — Page 7

AUG. 27, 1929

m WET & WESTERNTRONTb remJrque

(Continued from Page One.) tifieial. Only the fact* are real and important for us. And good boots are scarce. t a a 0 Once it was different. When we went to the district commandant to enlists, we were a class of twenty young men, many of whom had proudly shaved for '.ne first time before going to the barracks. We had no definite plans for our future. Our thoughts of a career and occupation were as yet of too unpractical a character to furnish any scheme of life. We were still crammed full of vague ideas which gave to life, and to the war also an ideal’arid almost romantic character. We were trained in the army for ten weeks and in this time more profoundly influenced than by ten years at school. We learned that a bright button is weightier than four volumes of Schopenhauer. At first astonished, then embittered, and finally indifferent, we recognized that what matters is not the mind, but the boot brush, not intelligence but the system, not freedom tut drill. We became soldiers with eagerness and enthusiasm, but they have done everything to knock that out of us. After three weeks It was no longer Incomprehensible to us that a braided postman should have more authority over us than had formerly our parents, our teachers, and the whole gamut of culture from Plato to Goethe. With our young, awakened eyes we saw’ that the classical conception of the Fatherland held by our teachers resolved itself here into a renunciation of personality such as one would not ask of the meanest servant—salutes, springing to attention. parade-marches, presenting arms, right wheel, left wheel, clicking the heels, insults and a thousand pettifogging detailsWe had fancied our task would be different only to find we were to be trained i> .’ heroism as though w r e were circus ponies. But we soon accustomed ourselves to it. We learned in fact that some part of these things was necessary, but the rest merely show. Soldiers have a fine nose for such distinctions. an n Bv threes and fours our class was scattered over the platoons amongst Frisian fishermen, peasants, and laborers with whom w’e soon .made friends. Kropp, Muller. Kemmerich and I went to No. 9 platoon under Corporal Himmelstoss. He had the reputation of being the strictest disciplinarian in the j camp, and was proud of it. He j was a small undersized fellow with | a foxy, waxed mustache, who had j seen twelve years’ service and was j in civil life a postman. He had a special dislike for Kropp, ! Tjaden, Westhus, and me. because he sensed a quiet defiance. I have remade his bed fourteen limes in one morning. Each time he had some fault to find and pulled it to pieces. I have kneadecl j a pair of prehistoric boots that were | as hard as iron for twenty hours— | with intervals of course—until they became as soft as butter and not even Himmelstoss could find anything more to do to them; under his orders I have scrubbed out the corporals’ mess with a toothbrush Kropp and I were given the job of clearing the barrack square of snow w’ith a hand broom and a dust pan. and we would have gone on till we were frozen had not a lieutenant accidentally appeared who sent us off. and hauled Himmelstoss over the coals. But the only result of this was MACHINE MILKS FOUR COWS SIMULTANEOUSLY Invention Forces Liquid Direct into Dairy House. fin SoriOP~Hutird .Yei espaper Alliance WASHINGTON. Aug. 27.—The department of agriculture announces a new r mechanical milking device developed at its dairy experiment farm at Beltsville, Md.. by R. R. Graves of the bureau of dairy industry. which milks three or four cows at a time. 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to make Himmelstoss hate us more. For six weeks consecutively I did guard every Sunday and was hut orderly for the same length of time. With full pack and rifle I have had to practice on a soft, wet, newly plowed field the “Prepare to advance. advance!” and the “Lie down!” until I was one lump of mud and finally collapsed. Four hours later I had to report to Himmelstoss with my clothes scrubbed clean, my hands chafed and bleeding. Together with Kropp, Westhus. and Tjaden I have stood at attention in a hard frost without gloves for a quarter of an hour at a stretch, while Himmelstoss watched for the slightest movement of our bare fingers on the steel barrel of the rifle. I have run eight times from the top floor of the barracks down to the courtyard in my shirt at 2 o’clock in the morning because my drawers projected three inches beyond the edge of the stool on which one had to stack all one’s things. Alongside me ran the corporal, Himmelstoss. and trod on my bare toes. At bayonet-practice I had constantly to fight with Himmelstoss, I with a heavy iron weapon whilst he had a handy wooden one with which he easily struck my arms till they were black and blue. Once, indeed, I became so infuriated that I ran at him blindly and gave him a mighty jab in the stomach and knocked him down. When he reported me the company commander laughed at him and told him he ought to keep his eyes open; he understood Himmelstoss. and apparently was not displeased at his disconfiture. I became a past master on the horizontal bars and strove to surpass my instructor at physical jerks; —we have trembled at the mere sound of his voice, but this runaway post-horse never got the better of usOne Sunday as Kropp and I were lugging a slop-bucket on a pole across the barrack-yard, Himmelstoss came by, all polished up and spry for going out. He planted himelf in front of us and asked us how we liked the job. In spite of ourselves we tripped and emptied the bucket over his legs. He raved, but the limit had been reached. “That means clink,” he yelled. But Kropp had had enough. “There’ll be an inquiry first,” he said, “and then we’ll unload.” “Mind how you speak to a noncommissioned officer! bawled Himmelstoss. "Have you lost your senses? You wait till you’re spoken to. What will you do. anyway?” “Show you up, corporal,” said Kropp. his thumbs in line with the seams of his trousers. Himmelstoss saw what we meant and went off without saying a word. But before he disappeared he growled: “You’ll drink this!”—but it was the end of his authority. He tried it once more in the plowed field with his “Prepare to advance, advance” and “Lie down.” We obeyed each order, since an order’s an order and has to be obeyed. But we did is so slowly that Himmelstoss became desperate. Carefully we went down on our knees, then on our hands, and so on; in the meantime, quite infuriated, he had given another command. But before we had even begun to sweat he was hoarse. After that he left us in peace. He did indeed always refer to us as swine, but there was. nevertheless, a certain respect in his tone. There were many other staff corporals, the majority of whom were more decent. But above all each of them wanted to keep his gooa job there at home as long as possible, and that he could do only by being strict with recruits. Practically every conceivable polishing job in the entire camp fell to us and we often howled with rage. Many of us became ill through it; Wolf actually died of inflammation of the lung. But we would have felt ridiculous had we hauled down our colors. We became hard, suspicious, pitiless. vicious, tough—and that was good; for these attributes had been entirely lacking in us. Had we gone Into the trenches without this period of training most of us would certainly have gone mad. Only thus were we prepared for what awaited us. We did not break down, but endured: our twenty years, which made many another thing so grievous, helped us in this. But by far the most important was that it awakened in us a strong practical sense of esprit de corps which in the field developed into the finest thing that, arose out of the war—comradeship. CHAPTER 111 ISIT by Kemmerich’s bed. He is sinking steadily. Around us is a great commotion. A hospital tfain has arrived and the wounded fit to be moved are being selected. The doctor passes by Kemmerich’s bed without once looking at him. “Next time, Franz.” I say. He raises himself on the pillow with his elbows. “They have amputated my leg.” He knows it, too, then. 1 nod and answer: “You must be thankful you’ve come off with that.” He is silent. I resume: “It might have been both legs. Franz. Wegeler has lost , his right arm. That’s much worse. Besides, you will be going home.” jHe looks at me. “Do you think so?" “Do you think so?” he repeats. “Sure. Once you’ve got over the operation.” He beckons me to bend down, stoop over him and he whispers; “I don’t think so.” “Don’t talk rubbish, Franz, in a couple of days you’ll see for yourself. What is it anyway—an amputated leg? Here they patch up far worse things than that.” He lifts one hand. “Look here, though, these fingers." “That’s the result of the operation. Just eat decently and you’ll soon be well again. Do they look after you properly?” He points to a dish that still is

half full. I get excited. “Franz, you must eat. Eating is the main thing. That looks good too.” He turns away. After a pause he says slowly: “I wanted to become a head-forester once.” “So you may still,” I assure him. “There are splendid artificial limbs now, you’d hardly know there was anything missing. They are fixed on to the muscle. You can move the fingers and work and even write with an artificial hand. And besides. they will always be making new improvements.” For a while he lies still. Then he says: “You can take my laceup boots with you for Muller.” I nod and wonder what to say to encourage him. His lips have fallen away, his mouth has become larger, his teeth stick out and look as though they were made of chalk. The flesh melts, the forehead bulges more prominently, the cheekbones protrude. The skeleton is working itself through. The eyes are already sunken in. In a couple of hours it will be over. He is not the first one I have seen thus; but we grew up together and that always makes it a bit different. I have copied his essays. At school he used to wear a brown coat with a belt and shiny sleeves. He was the only one of us, too, who could do the giant’s turn on the parallel bars. His hair flew in his face like silk when he did it. Kantorek was proud of him for it. But he couldn’t endure cigarets. His skin was very white; he had something of the girl about him. I glance at my boots. They are big and clumsy, the breeches are tucked into them, and standing up one looks well-built and powerful in these great drain-pipes. But when we go bathing and strip, suddenly we have slender legs again and slight shoulders. We no longer are soldiers, but little more than boys; no one would believe that we could carry packs. It is a strange moment when we stand naked; then we become civilians, and almost feel ourselves to be so. When bathing Franz Kemmerich looked as slight and frail as a child. There he lies now—but why? The whole world ought to pass by this bed and say: “That is Franz Kemmerich, 1914 years old, he doesn’t want to die. Let him not die!” My thoughts become confused. This atmosphere of carbolic and gangrene clogs the lungs, it is a thick gruel, it suffocates. It grows dark. Kemmerich’s face changes color, it lifts from the pillow and is so pale that it gleams. The mouth moves slightly. I draw near to him. He whispers, “If you find my watch, send it home —” Ido not reply. It is no use any more. No one can console him. I am wretched with helplessness. This forehead, with its hollow temples, this mouth, that is now merely a slit, this sharp nose! And the fat, weeping woman at home to whom I must write. If only the letter w’ere sent off already! Hospital orderlies go to and fro with bottles and pails. One of them comes up. casts a glance at Kemmerich and goes away again. You can see he is waiting; apparently be wants the bed. I bend over Franz and talk to him as though that could save him. “Perhaps you will go to the convalescent home at Klosterberg, among the villas, Franz. Then you can look out from the window across the fields to the two trees on the horizon. “It is the loveliest time of the year now% when the com ripens; at evening the fields in the sunlight look j like mother-of-pearl. And the lane j of poplars by the Klosterbach where j w r e used to catch sticklebacks. You can build an aquarium again \ and keep fish in it, and you can go out without asking anyone, you can even play the piano if you w r ant to.” I lean dow’n over his face which lies in the shadow. He still breathes, lightly. His face is wet, he is crying. What a fine mess I have made of it with my foolish talk. “But Franz”—l put my arm round his shoulders and put my face j against his. “Will you sleep now?” He does not answer. The tears run down his cheeks. I w’ould like to wipe them away but my handkerchief is too dirty. An hour passes. I sit tensely and j w’atch his every movement in case he may perhaps say something. What if he were to open his mouth and cry out! But he only w’eeps, his head turned aside. He does not speak of his mother or his brothers and sisters. He says nothing; all that lies behind him; he is entirely alone now w’ith his little life of 19 years, and cries because it leaves nim. This is the most disturbing and hardest parting that ever I have seen, although it was pretty bad too. with Tjadon. who called for his mother—a big bear of a fellow who, with wild eyes full of terror, held off the doctor from his bed with a dagger until he collapsed. Suddenly Kemmerich groans and begins to gurgle. I jump up, stumble outside and demand: “Where is the doctor? Where is the doctor?” As I catch sight of the white apron I seize hold of it: “Come quick. Frank Kemmerich is dying.” He frees himself and asks an orderly standing by: “Which will that be?” He says: “Bed 26, amputated thigh.” He sniffs: “How should I know anything about it. I’ve amputated five legs today”: he shoves me away, says to the hospital orderly: “You see to it,” and runs off to the operating roan. I tremble witlf rage as I go along with the orderly. The man looks at me and says: “One operation after another since 5 o’clock this morning. You know, today alone there have been sixteen deaths—yours is the seventeenth. There probably will be twenty altogether—” I become faint, all at once I can not do any more. I won’t revile any more, it is senseless. I could drop down and never rise up again. We are by Kemmerich’s bed. He is dead. The face is still wet from the tears. The eyes are half-open : and yellow like horn buttons.

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The orderly pokes me in the ribs. “Are you taking his things with you?” I nod. He goes on. We must take him away at once; we want the bed. Outsids they are lying on the floor.” I collect the things, untile Kemmerich’s identification disc and take it away. The orderly asks about the

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I Thoughts of girls, of flowery meadows, of white clouds suddenly come into my head. My feet begin to move forward in my boots. I go quicker, I run. Soldiers p?ss by me, I hear their voices without understanding. The earth is streaming with forces which pour into me through the

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PAGE 7

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