"Now off and away, lads,
With merry sound of horn!"
(_Methfessel._)
The lithographed regimental orders for May 31, the Saturday before
Whitsuntide, contained the following announcement:
"On June 3, at 6.30 A.M., the regiment will be ready in the Waisenhaus
Strasse to march to the practice-camp in the following order: Batteries
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Corps of trumpeters and band.
* * * * * * * * * *
"On no pretext whatever will leave be granted for Whitsuntide. It is to
be duly notified to the troops that their Whitsuntide leave--cancelled
for official reasons--may be made good, so far as they deserve it,
after the gun-practice.... Night-passes may be granted for Whitsun-Day.
(Signed) "VON FALKENHEIN,
"Colonel and Commandant."
The news that no leave would be granted for Whitsuntide drew deep
curses from many of the recruits. They would have liked to go home and
exhibit themselves in uniform to their friends and relations. But what
was the good of swearing? they had to submit.
The two friends, Vogt and Klitzing, were much upset in their
calculations. They had got on so well together that Vogt had asked his
father if he might bring his friend home with him. Still, it was only
put off; better luck next time! They did not apply for night-leave on
the Sunday, as neither of them found any pleasure in spinning round hot
dancing-saloons with any women they could pick up. Weise, on the
contrary, was quite at home under such circumstances, and had managed
to find himself a sweetheart directly permission was granted the
recruits to go into the town. It is true she was neither pretty nor
particularly youthful; but then she never failed to pay for all his
drinks, and when he had promised to marry her she had even bought him
new regimentals.
Vogt had taken a favourable opportunity of begging Sergeant Wiegandt to
put him and Klitzing together, when, on the completion of their
preliminary training, the men were grouped into detachments. Wiegandt
had not only acceded to the request, but had taken them both to serve
on his own gun, the sixth; Klitzing, with his sharp eyes, as gun-layer,
or No. 2; Vogt as No. 1, whose duty it was to fire.
And now they sat, this Whitsun-Tuesday, side by side on the
gun-carriage, with the muzzle of the gun between them; and when
Wegstetten called out in his clear, strident voice, "Battery, mount!"
Vogt whispered gaily across to Klitzing, "Now we're off!" as the long
procession of thirty-six guns and six ammunition-waggons began slowly
to move.
It was not half bad to be riding along like this. Certainly, the
gunners' seats were not provided with cushions, and the guns were not
mounted on C-springs; but the shaking and jolting were not very great
on the smooth high-road, it was only when the wheels crunched over
newly-strewn rubble that their seats vibrated roughly under them.
There had, fortunately, been a heavy thundershower on the previous
afternoon, and it had washed the roads clear of dust. Now the sun shone
mildly, the air was fresh after the rain; what could be better than to
get out into the country on such a day? Vogt and Klitzing rolled along
contentedly on their hard-seated chariot, between the white-blossoming
cherry-trees which bordered the highway.
Their halting place for the night was a large farm, where were
quartered the fifth and sixth guns and the ammunition waggon, one
sergeant, one trumpeter, two corporals, twenty-one men, and twenty
horses. The farmer's entertainment left nothing to be desired. The
litter for the beds was thick and soft; clean sheets were laid over the
straw; and there were warm blankets for covering. For supper there were
two gigantic hams and many other dainties, a meal for the gods; and the
noble peasant had even provided beer and cigars. The second day's march
had a no less successful ending. Vogt and Klitzing were quartered
together on a cottager, and though the poor fellow did not even own a
cow, the older men proved right who had told them that the poor were
generally better hosts than the rich.
On the third day the regiment was to arrive at the practice camp. The
country now became more level. The black soil gradually lightened in
tint; green copses gave place to pine-woods; stretches of barren sandy
waste land appeared more and more frequently between the cornfields. At
last a flat table-land was reached, bounded in the far distance by an
immense forest; and on a still nearer approach isolated white houses
could be descried on the forest's edge, while on one side a tall
water-tower reared itself high above the level ground.
Captain von Wegstetten ordered his men to halt and dismount. The sixth
battery had arrived the first.
Further back along the road just traversed and also on a neighbouring
highway the other batteries were seen slowly approaching. At length the
commandants of the two divisions arrived with their adjutants, and
finally the colonel with his staff. He received the reports of the
staff-officers, and then after a short interval placed himself at the
head of his regiment.
The long line of men, horses and vehicles, with the band preceding
them, then entered the encampment. The sentry at the gate had to
present arms so incessantly that he became quite exhausted. A
considerable time elapsed before the last officer had passed in.
The guns and carriages were taken to the gun-park. The horses were
unharnessed, and the knapsacks unfastened from the guns. Then the
drivers made their way to the stables, and the gunners to their
barracks. The quartermaster had pointed out his place to every one, so
that each man had only to take possession of his cupboard and his bed.
The young soldiers, who had never been in camp before, gazed about with
much interest. Things, on the whole, looked very inviting. A wide road
with broad footpaths on either side traversed the whole camp, almost
further than the eye could see, and along it stood the barracks on the
left, and the stables on the right. The houses were all alike; in the
middle a square one-storied building, and running out from it a wing
containing lofty, airy rooms for the men, open to the wooden rafters
that supported the slated roof. At the back were covered verandas, in
which, during bad weather, instruction could be carried on and the roll
called. Beyond these outbuildings began the outskirts of the wood,
beautiful stately pines growing thick and close. The resinous scent of
pine-needles was wafted into the rooms through the open windows.
"Heinrich," said Vogt to Klitzing, "this is just like a summer holiday
for us, isn't it? Isn't this air splendid?"
The clerk stopped his unpacking for a moment and drew in a deep breath
of the invigorating odour.
"Oh yes," he answered; "we can do with this all right!"
However, it was not a "summer holiday" by any means, and the two
friends found that out soon enough. There was a lot of real hard work
to do during these weeks; but it was all done with a good will. Actual
gun-practice was a very different thing from that dull work in garrison
with blank cartridges.
The magazine where the ammunition was stored lay at some little
distance from the other buildings, near the gun-park, and was
surrounded by a thick high wall of earth. One realised from this how
dangerous were its contents. But the store-men, who gave out the
shrapnel-shells and the fuses, went about their work as if regardless
of the fact that in each one of these lurked death and destruction. And
yet in every shrapnel-shell were a couple of hundred bullets that could
easily put a whole company _hors de combat_.
The beginning of the gun-practice did not, however, seem likely to be
very dangerous. Only twenty-four shrapnel, _i.e._, six shots for each
gun, were given out next morning. It was a first experience, meant
especially for the younger officers, and Lieutenant Landsberg was to
command the battery.
The men were very curious to know what he would make of it. The
affected young dandy was extremely unpopular with every one. Besides
which, he was clearly not blessed with much intelligence; for at
garrison-drill more reproofs and reprimands were showered upon him
alone than upon all the rest of the battery put together. Again and
again would Wegstetten's trumpet-tones ring across the parade-ground:
"Lieutenant Landsberg, you are not in your right place!" "Lieutenant
Landsberg, you are allowing too much distance!" The little captain had
sworn many a fierce oath as he galloped to and fro on his long-legged
"Walküre": "Lieutenant Landsberg! attention, please. What in thunder
are you about?" or "Good God, sir! don't go to sleep! Time's getting
on!"
And to-day he was to command the whole battery. Wegstetten took the
precaution of accompanying the young man himself, so that he might be
able to come to the rescue in case of necessity.
He was soon needed. The battery started from the gun-park and left the
camp, turning off the road and crossing the heather towards the broad
level stretch of the exercise-ground.
Suddenly Landsberg's snapping voice crowed out: "Battery, halt!" and
immediately afterwards: "Open with shrapnel!"
The men grinned at one another.
Two or three of the gunners got down and stood there, quite at a loss.
They ought to load; yet the word of command, "Prepare for action!"
had not been given. And how could they load when the seats and the
limber-boxes were still locked, and when the gun was still covered?
The clever lieutenant had forgotten the word of command that should
properly have been given before leaving the gun-park. And the best of
it was that he didn't even now notice what was wrong.
Wegstetten, close at hand, kept quite still. He had taken his feet out
of the stirrups and was swinging his short legs carelessly to and fro.
His eyes flashed scorn as he looked at the hapless lieutenant.
"Well, Lieutenant Landsberg," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "if I
were one of the men myself I shouldn't know what to do either."
The lieutenant raised his spotlessly gloved hand to his helmet and
replied, "Yes, sir." But as yet no solution of the riddle had dawned on
him.
Then at last the captain sat upright in his saddle, and his clear voice
rang out over the battery: "Prepare for action!"
It put life into the men at once, and all set about their various
duties with the utmost zeal.
Wegstetten turned to the subaltern, who stood stupidly looking on, and
said, "Well, Lieutenant Landsberg, you may take over the command again
now."
Truchsess, the brewer, as No. 4 of gun six, brought out the shrapnel
very gingerly. How easily such stuff as that might go off!
The old hands had gruesome tales to tell of accidents that had happened
during gun-practice. Once while being loaded, a gun had prematurely
exploded backwards, making a great hole through gunner No. 3, right
through his chest, a hole just the same size as the bore of the gun. As
the corpse was being carried away afterwards the sun shone right
through it; so that in the middle of the shadow cast by the body was a
bright round spot exactly the same size and shape as the bore of a gun.
The brewer could not help thinking of this as he very cautiously pushed
the shrapnel into the bore. Klitzing, however, shoved it vigorously
with the rammer, so that its metal casing clinked against the inside of
the gun.
"Now then, old fellow, easy on! The thing might go off!" whispered
Truchsess.
But Klitzing only smiled, and the brewer sullenly thought to himself,
"Well, if that clerk has no use for his life, I have for mine, anyhow!"
Carefully he pushed in the cartridge, and heaved a sigh of relief as
the lock slipped back once more. At any rate, it couldn't explode at
the back now and hit him.
The battery now started again and went on at an easy trot to the
exercise-ground. In the midst of a luxuriant growth of heather they
unlimbered. It was a wonderful picture, the guns and the scattered
gunners on that peaceful sea of purple. The waves of blossom reached
nearly to the axles of the blue wheels and above the knees of the men,
and closed over the trail of the gun-carriage as it passed. The men had
to make their way through the heather almost as if it had been a wood.
"Open with shrapnel! Straight in front! At the battery before the
guide-post at the edge of the wood. Third gun! Two thousand eight
hundred!" commanded Lieutenant Landsberg. "Fire from left flank! Fire
from left flank!"--that meant that gun six should begin; that of the
whole regiment it was to have the honour of firing the first shot in
this year's practice.
Klitzing, as gun-layer, set the sight in a twinkling to 2800 yards, got
astride the box, and laid the gun in the right direction.
The enemy's battery was not very hard to find. The young officer had
not been given too difficult a task. Far away over the heath, where the
sand gleamed yellow in the distance, six dark, rather broad patches
showed up against the light ground, each surrounded by smaller objects.
They were the six guns that were to be attacked, with the dummy men
belonging to them. It was Sergeant Wiegandt's duty to verify the aim;
he gave a satisfied nod, and then the word of command, "Gun six, fire!"
Upon which the men sprang out of the way of the backward recoil of the
carriage, and Vogt, with a jerk of the body, pulled the lanyard and
fired.
There was a loud report, and the gun rolled heavily back quite eight
paces. In another moment it was moved into its original place again.
After a few seconds, far away on the heath, a light cloud of dust rose
into the air, as if a giant's hand had stirred up the sand, and
immediately afterwards--almost at the same moment--all the dark patches
disappeared in a dense grey cloud of smoke. When this had cleared away,
the dummies on the left of the gun had vanished, and the gun itself
appeared to have been damaged, as it was leaning over on one side.
The first shot had hit the mark full. This simply showed that excellent
aim had been taken. The actual distance had corresponded exactly with
the calculation. Still, it caused great satisfaction.
Colonel von Falkenhein, on his big chestnut, was stationed near by. He
had been watching the target through his field-glasses, and a scarcely
audible exclamation had escaped him as he saw the splinters flying
about through the smoke.
Turning to the battery he called out a short "Bravo, gun-layer!"
Wegstetten, who had dismounted near him, smiled. Well, at any rate,
battery six was all right, even when commanded by a noodle!
The shooting went on steadily. Now the distance had been ascertained
the shrapnels were fired off by means of time-fuses; and they exploded
regularly each time over the mark, the little clouds of smoke showing
up picturesquely against the dark background of the wood. Over there it
was as if heavy raindrops were falling on a dusty road; everywhere
little columns of sand were spurting up into the air.
After the first shot the men lost all nervousness. Even Truchsess took
hold of the shells quite courageously; and when the twenty-four that
had been served out to them were used up, the men would willingly have
gone on longer.
In the criticism of the result Landsberg came out well. He had had four
good hits from one shrapnel--a very fair result; mainly due, of course,
to the luck of the first shot, which by itself would have placed all
the men belonging to one of the enemy's guns _hors de combat_.
The lieutenant's face took on a self-satisfied expression, which seemed
to say: "Of course from me nothing less could have been expected."
Falkenhein, who always kept a watchful eye on each one of his officers,
and who up to that moment had not heard much in favour of this young
man, thought it best to take down his pride a little.
"You know, Lieutenant Landsberg," he said, "your commanding officer
made things very easy for you. As the youngest officer in the regiment
you had the lightest task. Remember that in taking credit to yourself;
and let me tell you that they won't build such barn-doors for you to
aim at next year!"
Upon which he turned pleasantly to Wegstetten and asked: "Did you ride
over and see that target, my dear Wegstetten?--I mean the one that was
hit full?"
"Yes, sir; the shrapnel must have exploded almost inside the gun."
"I thought so. Capital thing, the very first shot of the year being
such a good one. No one like you for that, Wegstetten!"
The captain smiled, much gratified, and modestly answered, "A bit of
good luck, sir!"
But the colonel continued, more seriously: "Well, partly luck, perhaps.
Just one thing more, my dear Wegstetten. That gun-layer who made the
lucky shot--has he been ill? He looked pretty bad to me--like a perfect
death's-head."
Wegstetten gave as many particulars about the man as he himself knew,
and Reimers added some information, Landsberg meanwhile standing by in
silence.
"It is really you, Lieutenant Landsberg, who ought to be telling me all
this," said Falkenhein with some warmth. "You trained the recruits, and
therefore ought to know all about them." Then, turning to Wegstetten:
"If the man is as capable as I hear," he continued, "you might manage
to make things a bit easier for him."
"Yes, sir," the captain hastened to reply. "I had been thinking of
employing him in the autumn as assistant clerk."
This was not true. To think of such details so long beforehand was
impossible, even for the commander of the most efficient battery
in the whole army-corps. But it served its purpose. Falkenhein nodded
pleasantly: "Quite right, my dear Wegstetten. You have hit the
bull's-eye again! You see one can never deal with men all in a lump;
you must take them separately. Some best serve the king with their
sturdy arms and legs, but your gun-layer with his eyes and pen." He
then raised his hand to his helmet, and the two men parted.
As they all repaired to their respective quarters they had very
different thoughts in their minds. Reimers was full of admiration:
"What a man is that," thought he, "who, with all his heavy duties, yet
occupies himself with the insignificant destiny of a poor devil of a
gunner!"
Wegstetten's face wore a rather self-satisfied smile. "One must speak
up for oneself, and not hide one's light under a bushel! Better say too
much than too little. In doing one's superior officer a small service,
one may be doing the greatest of all to oneself."
Landsberg said to himself, with a sneer: "The man prates about that
whipper-snapper of a gunner nearly as much as about my splendid firing.
And so that's the celebrated Colonel von Falkenhein!"
Next day almost all the men would have liked to go on with the
shell-firing; but the subsequent cleaning of the guns was not at all to
their taste. The smokeless powder left in the bore of the gun a horrid,
sticky slime that must not be allowed to remain there. This meant
sousing with clean water again and again, washing out with soft soap,
and then going on pumping and working with the mop until the water came
out again as clean as it had gone in.
"Now, boys," Sergeant Wiegandt used to say, "if you don't feel inclined
to drink the water as it comes out of the gun, then that means it isn't
clean enough yet. So go ahead!"
And then the drying afterwards! They had to wrap rags and cloths round
the mop until it was so thick that it would scarcely go through the
muzzle of the gun. If this were not done the inside edges and corners
remained wet; and one spot of rust on the bright metal--well! that
would be almost as bad as murder! So they had to push and to twist, to
pull and to drag, till the perspiration streamed from their foreheads.
Finally the barrel was thinly oiled; and the next day the firing took
place once more, and then there was the drudgery of the cleaning all
over again.
Yet the men endured these exertions far better than the garrison life.
This was partly owing to the variety of the work; but, above all, the
greatest torment of a soldier's life had been left behind,--that
monotonous drilling under which all groaned, and the object of which no
one could ever pretend to understand. Even the dullest--to say nothing
of Vogt with his simple, sound common-sense--could see that the
gun-practice here in the practice-camp was the most important part of
the whole training. What the men had already learnt was now found out
practically. But where did the parade-marching and all the other
display drill come in?
Here was Klitzing, who in the garrison had been looked on as the most
feeble soldier of the lot, now all at once distinguishing himself! Vogt
shook his head as he thought it over.
He often felt glad that at any rate he was an artilleryman, for others
had a much worse time of it. A few days earlier an infantry regiment
had moved into the neighbouring barracks; and looking through the
palings of their parade-ground they could see the battalions
exercising.
There was a yellow, dried-up looking major who was never, never
satisfied. He would keep his battalion at it in the sun till past noon;
and then after a short pause for refreshment the same cruel business
would begin all over again. The devil! How could a couple of hundred
men be as symmetrical as a machine?
The artillery-drivers had climbed on to the fence. They were polishing
their curbs and chains, and laughed at the spectacle before them. But
to Vogt it did not seem amusing. What was the use of making those two
hundred men do such childish things there on the parade-ground? Would
they ever march into battle like that? He thought of how those dummies
had all been riddled by the bullets when a single shrapnel burst in
front of them. Why, it would be sheer madness! They would have to
crawl, to run, to jump--then to crawl again! That wasn't what they were
doing when every morning on the parade-ground one heard a continual
tack--tack--tack--tack, as if a thousand telegraph clerks were hard at
work. What was the good of all this senseless show, which only
aggravated the men?
Their comrades of the infantry looked very far from cheerful, and
darted glances full of suppressed hatred at the yellow-faced major. And
when, dead-tired, they had finished the drill, and were putting away
their guns in the corner, they would curse the very uniform they wore
as if it had been a strait-waistcoat.
Certainly it was not necessary to agree in everything with a
social-democrat like Weise; but there was no doubt what-ever that he
was perfectly right about some things. In the evenings, when the
non-commissioned officers were sitting in the canteen, the men took
their stools out on the open veranda that looked over the forest; and
then Weise would begin to hold forth, his comrades, either smoking or
cleaning their clothes and accoutrements, grouped round him listening
to his orations. When some of the men, fresh from the country,
complained of the hard work there, the endless long hours, and the
small pay, he laughed outright.
"Why do you allow your landed-proprietors to treat you so?" he scoffed.
"Why are you so stupid? Of course if you won't utter a word of protest
you don't deserve anything better."
And he explained how things were managed in his trade, at the factory.
If one of the workmen was unfairly treated, or if the pay was
considered too small, then they had a thorough good strike. They took
care to choose the best possible time for it, when the manufacturers
had the most pressing work to do. The trade-union, to which of course
they all had to belong, kept blacklegs at a distance, and they went on
doggedly righting until new terms had been won. Certainly the workmen
did not invariably carry all their demands; but a strike seldom ended
without their gaining some solid advantage. Yes, the workers had only
to show the world that they were a power; that they were not going to
be trampled on for ever; that they intended henceforth to have their
share of the profits which they had hitherto been putting into the
pockets of the rich, although earned by their own toil and sweat.
Or Weise would reckon how much was spent in one day's gun-practice.
Each shot cost about fifteen marks; and the sixth battery alone had
fired about a hundred and twenty shots that morning. There were six
batteries in each regiment, four regiments in each army-corps, and
twenty-three army-corps in the whole of Germany.
"Any-one who likes can reckon it up," said Weise. "In any case the
money would be enough to give every poor devil in the whole world one
happy day!"
He pulled out a sheet of paper and read from it the sum that Germany
spent annually on her army. It made the men open their eyes pretty
wide. An incredible sum, truly, of which they could form no clear idea
at all.
Sometimes one of them would say! "But look here, old man; suppose there
was war, and we had no soldiers?"
"War! war!" said Weise. "What is war, pray? Who is it that makes war?
Do you want war? Do you want to have to go and stand up like those
targets out there and be hit on the skull or in the belly by the
shrapnel?"
"Not I."
"Perhaps you would, Findeisen?"
"I? God damn me--no!"
"Or you, Truchsess?"
The brewer thought a moment, and answered:
"No, certainly not. I wish for peace. But the French might want to
fight us, or the Russians."
"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.
No wonder that the period of military service was extremely favourable
to the spread of social-democracy! Such sensational object-lessons were
not necessary; the circumstances of every-day life all pointed towards
socialism.
Wolf understood the part that Weise played in the battery. It was
always the same. Each batch of recruits was a mixture of men from towns
and men from the country. The city-bred, even if fewer in number,
immediately established an ascendancy over the country yokels. They
were quicker-witted, and their town bringing-up had developed their
intelligence more. And just because of this they adapted themselves
more easily to the requirements of military service, so that they often
made better soldiers than the country recruits with their slower
comprehension. Most of them were entirely unaware that they were
socialistic agitators; they quite unconsciously imparted to their
fellow-soldiers ideas that to them appeared self-evident, but that for
the others meant an upheaval of their whole way of thinking.
What was the use of searching every hole and corner of the barracks at
regular intervals for socialistic literature? They could confiscate red
rosettes and pamphlets; but how could they control transient,
intangible thoughts?
On Sundays the camp was as quiet as it was full of life on
week-days. The boundary-lines beyond which the men were not allowed to
pass without leave, were drawn round a considerable area. Within it
were three large villages; and on Sundays their taverns were thronged
by soldiers quartered in the camp. The enterprising innkeepers had made
ample provision for such crowds of visitors. They had erected wooden
platforms in the open air where dancing went on without intermission,
regimental bands supplying the music; and the amount of beer consumed
in one Sunday was greater than that drunk by the entire village the
whole winter through. Of course there were strong patrols set to keep
order at the dancing-platforms and licensed houses. As there were too
few partners for the soldiers quarrels were of constant occurrence, and
were seldom amicably settled; a brawl was the usual result, and at
times a regular fight.
It was the custom in these villages to hire maidservants only by the
month, as sufficient work could hardly be found for them during the
winter; and there were also other members of the female sex--not
servants, but ladies who had taken up their summer quarters here. They
were the cause of much perplexity to the officers in command of the
troops. The soldiers would stand in queues at the doors of these summer
residences, like people at a baker's shop in time of famine; and then
if any of them were drunk and got a little impatient there was sure to
be a row. Censorious tongues passed severe comments on such
proceedings. The commanding officers were most anxious to rectify the
evil; but they could hardly post sentries at those particular houses,
and finally they got over the difficulty by bringing a little moral
pressure to bear upon the local authorities. These worthy civilians
achieved the desired end by the simple means of administrative
expulsions.
As the two comrades were getting ready to go out, Vogt asked the clerk:
"Well, Heinrich, what shall we do with ourselves? Shall we go along and
drink a glass of beer and look on at the racket for a bit?"
"If you like, Franz," replied Klitzing.
"Then we won't," said Vogt. "You ought to say at once when you don't
like a thing. I don't in the least want to go myself, and we can always
get beer in the canteen. We'll just walk a bit through the wood as far
as the butts, shall we?"
Klitzing assented, and they waited till their comrades were off, then
strolled slowly into the cool forest. Troops of men were leaving the
camp gates to walk by the hard high road towards the villages that
could be seen in the distance.
Vogt looked after the cloud of dust they made.
"Can you understand what they see in women?" he asked.
"No, indeed I can't."
"You don't care about women?"
The clerk shook his head. "And you, Franz?" he inquired.
"Not I. At any rate, not yet."
Walking on in the shade of the forest's edge they came at last to the
butts. The black, tarred, wooden target had been put up ready for the
next day, and cheerfully awaited the terrors of the firing that lay
before it. A little to one side of the principal erection a ruined
village stood out against the blue of the summer sky. It had been
purchased by the Government and left standing to be used for testing
the effect of shots upon buildings.
The shells had certainly done their work. Substantial walls had gaping
fissures right through them; gables and chimney-stacks had been laid
low. Some of the houses seemed to have been set on fire by the shots,
and any wood-work spared by the devouring flames had been stolen and
carried away by some-one or other. No stairs were left leading to the
upper storeys, nor boards to any of the floors. Rafters and beams had
been hewn down; doors and windows with their frames had been torn out.
On some of the walls rude drawings had been scrawled in paint or red
chalk, with facetious inscriptions and obscene jokes; but from most of
them the whitewash had fallen, leaving bare the rough masonry. It was a
depressing picture of desolation. One could almost imagine that the
smell of burning still hung about.
Vogt gazed gloomily at the ruins and said: "And that's what things look
like in war! By God, it's true! we must do away with war!"
Klitzing smiled quietly to himself: "Yes, but who'll be the first to
begin?" he asked.
The regiment stayed fully three weeks at the practice-camp, and then
accomplished the return journey to the garrison in three days.
The two friends were anxiously looking forward to the leave that had
been promised the men after the gun-practice. They were to start on the
first Saturday in July, and had eight days' leave granted to them. Only
very few had been allowed as much, and their captain did not fail to
point out in a little speech that this favour was due to their
blameless conduct at the practice-camp.
It was one of Wegstetten's little methods, when he found good qualities
in his men and wished to spur them on, to make the meagre rewards that
the service held out to them appear in a specially brilliant light.
Regardless of exaggeration, he spoke of that week's leave as if it were
an extremely rare mark of distinction unheard of for years. And on the
whole he gained his object. As Vogt and Klitzing stood before their
commanding officer blushing with pride, they had the feeling that they
must thank him, and promise to go on doing their duty. They only did
not know how. At length Vogt plucked up courage and stammered a few
words.
Captain von Wegstetten listened kindly. He had soon perceived that he
had to do with two worthy, honest lads; and, with his own ends in view,
he proceeded to inquire in a condescending way about their homes. When
it then came out that the one had invited the other to stay with him,
he praised them for their faithful comrade-ship, and took the first
opportunity of relating this instance of the fraternising of town and
country to the colonel, who liked such proofs of an individual interest
being taken in the soldiers.
The first Saturday in July was a day of excitement for the
turnpike-keeper, Friedrich August Vogt. He was rather annoyed with
himself for losing his usual calm. Why? because his son--his only
son--was coming home for the first time? Really, that was not such an
event as to put him beside himself in this way! And then next he blamed
himself for having thought it unbefitting an old soldier, and too
soft-hearted altogether, to go and fetch his son from the station. He
could not remain in the house, so he went to a spot on the highway
whence he could watch the railway. He could see the train coming in,
and the clouds of white smoke from the engine rising up from behind the
station; then he heard the whistle--but still nothing was to be seen of
the two holiday-makers. Could Franz be stopping to have a glass of
beer? No; now the two men could be seen emerging from the village on to
the broad high-road, their helmets and uniform buttons glistening in
the sun--it must be they! The turnpike-keeper drew back a little, so
that he was out of sight. Why should the boy know that he had been
staring the eyes out of his head in order to catch the first glimpse of
him?
When Vogt and Klitzing arrived at the house he looked out of the window
as if quite by chance. "Ah, here you are!" and with a hearty grip of
the hand he bade them both welcome.
But it was no use fighting against it, he could not take his eyes off
his son. What a well set-up, vigorous young fellow his Franz had grown!
Yet he was still the same good honest lad; that was written in his
face.
And Franz's friend, with his frank open countenance, inspired
confidence at once. He looked, to be sure, as if he had never in his
life had enough to eat. He must be properly fed up for once. While he
was on leave, at any rate, he should not want for anything.
The two gunners settled down very quickly, and nothing could prevent
Franz from going round the fields the very first evening while his
father milked and fed the cows. He had almost hoped to find something
or other left neglected because he had not been there when it was put
in hand. But no, his father had allowed nothing to go wrong anywhere.
And now in the company of the two young soldiers the old
turnpike-keeper became quite a different creature. He realised suddenly
that the quiet, sluggish peasant's blood had not quite replaced in him
the old, quick-flowing blood of the soldier. He listened, fascinated,
to the tales told by the two gunners about their soldier's life. How
things had changed since his time! He could never hear enough about it
all.
Then Franz came to tell of his reflections during the gun-practice: how
through the fence he had seen the infantry battalion tormented with
drill for hours at a time; how the dried-up looking major had foamed
with fury; and how the poor devil of a private had been struck down
bodily and mentally in the middle of it all.
Old Vogt quietly heard his son out, although he was burning to speak.
Then he began: "Look here, youngster, you as a simple soldier can't
understand it all. But depend upon it, this drill is the most important
thing that every soldier must first be made to learn. For it alone
teaches military obedience, soldierly subordination, discipline. It
alone can give that unity which preserves a company from utter
demoralisation if one of your horrible new-fangled shrapnel bursts
among them. But for drill the cowards would turn tail without further
ceremony, and take to their heels; and in the end even the brave ones
would follow them. It is the drill that teaches them to stay on and
stick together."
He held to it, in spite of all his son could say about what he had seen
of the kind of drill that the troops were kept at.
"You could not have seen aright," said his father.
The elder Vogt would not allow his son to put his hand to anything in
the afternoons. He always insisted on sending the two young fellows out
by themselves.
"Be off with you, youngsters," he would say. "Take a walk, drink a
glass of beer somewhere or other--whatever you like. Enjoy your few
days of freedom!"
Then the two young men would march off and let the hot sun and the
fresh air burn them and brown them. Vogt had shown his friend his
favourite spot, whence they could look out over the river to the castle
in the neighbouring town. There they lay in the grass.
The peasant felt impelled to get up every now and then. He was
restless; he felt that he must keep looking at the fields that lay
around them. But the clerk lay quite still in the short grass, and with
blinking half-closed eyes gazed up into the summer sky.