"The bullets are all of iron and lead;
But it's not every bullet will strike a man dead."
(_Old Soldier-song._)
Kläre Güntz was nursing her child. Through the thick drooping branches
of the pear-tree the sun shone on the mother's breast and on the
infant's little round head. She bent over him with a happy smile, and
held him close.
Sheltered on one side by a high wall, and on the other by the thick
leafage, the little garden seemed a haven of joy and peace far removed
from all turmoil and tumult of the outside world. The stillness of the
summer morning reigned unbroken.
A few more sucks, and then, sleepy and satisfied, the little head sank
back on its cushion. Kläre laid the baby-boy in his perambulator.
In the heavenly quiet of this secluded corner of the garden, in the
presence of her sleeping child, a picture of health, and from whose
lusty sucking her breast still ached a little: in the fulness of this
bliss she felt so overwhelmed with thankfulness that she could not help
shedding a few holy tears of joy over the blessedness of life.
Suddenly she checked herself.
Kläre Güntz did not exactly regard such moments of tender emotion as
inadmissible; but one should not give way to feelings of this sort too
long. Recognition of great happiness should always manifest itself in
cheerful activity. So she sat up, and began stitching energetically.
But the work was almost mechanical. Like Cæsar, Kläre Güntz could do
two things at once: mend, darn, sew, or anything else of the kind, and
think at the same time.
She was anxious about her husband,
Not on account of his health; she tended and cared for him too wisely,
with her housewifely watchfulness and love. But he, who usually stood
so firmly before the world, was suffering now from inward uncertainty.
His moods were unequal; and sometimes the cheerful, determined man
would be quite overcome by irresolute depression.
This depression was connected with the service. Kläre had found that
out at once. The eternal disputes with a disagreeable superior were
probably to blame. For Captain Mohr, who feared a rival and a successor
in the senior-lieutenant, opposed tooth and nail every improved
regulation that Güntz endeavoured to introduce in the battery, thus
causing endless discussion and unpleasantness.
At last Frau Kläre had made a move. She came to the conclusion that she
must appeal to the colonel, who at once agreed to her request that
Güntz should be transferred, and Kläre was not a little proud of her
success. In reality, however, she was only responsible for it in the
very smallest degree.
True, Falkenhein had heard her attentively, whereas he usually only
listened to ladies out of pure courtesy. He had a very high opinion of
this clever, capable woman. But he would have refused even her request
without hesitation had he not himself been convinced of the necessity
for the measure demanded. The discipline of the fifth battery, loose
enough already, suffered more and more from the constant friction
between the two officers. He regarded Mohr as a very harmful element in
the service. The captain, through some outside influence--a very
influential relative of high position, it was said--had managed so far
to retain his post; but he, as colonel of the regiment, would see to it
that the undesirable officer should receive his dismissal in the spring
at latest. And meanwhile Güntz must be transferred from the fifth
battery. It fell out conveniently that Wegstetten should be ordered
away just then to the Austrian man[oe]uvres. Güntz was put in charge of
the sixth battery; and the affair had a perfectly natural appearance,
since the command properly fell to the senior-lieutenant of the
regiment.
Güntz had no idea of his wife's little intrigue. He assumed his new
position with fresh courage, and it seemed to please him; but
nevertheless he did not regain his former happy balance.
Something still troubled him; and the young wife, pleased as she was at
her successful assumption of the good fairy's part, was again at her
wits' end to discover the cause.
The fact was that Güntz felt himself daily less and less satisfied with
an officer's career, and he almost began to believe that he had missed
his vocation. It was very hard to realise this only after he had
devoted the twelve best years of his life to soldiering. But he did not
think it was yet too late to make a decisive change, and he was
earnestly elaborating a plan to send in his resignation and devote all
his time to mastering the technique of engineering, his former
favourite study.
He now determined to command the battery for a year, and then to decide
definitely whether to adopt this course or no.
On August 15 he took over the command of the sixth battery. He felt
easier in the more congenial atmosphere of his new department; yet his
full zest for a soldier's life did not return.
Wegstetten's battery seemed to be in excellent order; the only
exception being Lieutenant Landsberg. That young man had positively
raved with joy when Wegstetten's temporary absence was announced.
The captain's hand had pressed heavily on him, and Landsberg thought
that now he would be able to live his life more as he pleased.
Senior-lieutenant Güntz, who was to be in command, was after all
virtually his equal, and it was quite impossible that he should be as
strict about duty as the full-blown captain of a battery.
So he at once began to behave with a self-satisfied independence which
under Wegstetten's rule would have been regarded simply as high
treason. He did not appear punctually on parade, and sometimes he would
remain away altogether, even when it was his week to be on duty.
But Güntz shook off his doubts and depression of spirits, and said to
Reimers:
"Look here, my boy, I shall have to make that Landsberg eat
humble-pie; there's more than one way of doing it. The worst of it is,
though, that the fellow is not an exception, but just a representative
of the whole species of decorative officers; and in the end it will be
little enough use if one of them is brought to book for once in a way.
Directly a more lenient officer is in command the whole thing will
begin over again. And just consider the prospect, my dear boy; if this
slack, unenthusiastic crew increases in number, what will happen then?
Now and then, perhaps, one of them gains a little sense by the time he
is promoted to captain. With the greater number the chances are that
during the ten or more years that they are subalterns, utter
superficiality will have become their rule in life; from which, despite
responsibility, they are unable to break loose, and according to which,
therefore, they act. Then, when they are found to be good for nothing,
they are either retired, and eat the unearned bread of pensioners
(unearned, of course, only in such cases as theirs), or, if they
have a cousin or great-uncle anywhere, who can put in a good word for
them, or if they belong to the best families, or if they are very
religious--why, then God Almighty intervenes, and the scandal waxes
still grosser; for the useless captains become staff-officers."
Reimers tried to reply, but Güntz waived off his objection with an
impatient gesture, and continued: "As to the young officer of whom we
are speaking, the disinclination which he manifests for the actual
duties of his profession is a fact, and, unfortunately distinctly
typical. I assure you that most of our lieutenants look at their life
and work from the point of view of mere schoolboys. They lounge about,
do just the duty they are positively obliged to do, laugh in their
sleeves if they get rowed, and swear at every short hour demanded by
the service. Nothing but continuous lazing! Then in the end, every one
who has not been arrested for some piece of sheer stupidity is made
captain,--of course always supposing he has not been positively
dishonest, or done something criminal."
Reimers interrupted him: "Come, you know, the thing's not quite so
simple as all that!"
But Güntz replied: "Oh yes, it is! To master the elementary formulae
according to which the service is regulated, sufficiently to satisfy
the mere requirements of inspection--that is child's play. And yet on
that the superior has to found his judgment! But to work them out so
thoroughly that one has them at one's finger-ends at any moment and on
every emergency (for that alone can prove their efficiency) that is
really difficult, demanding long and exhaustive study. And who has the
patience or the inclination to do it? Everything is sacrificed to
making a good show at the reviews. If only one has been able to cut a
good figure then, one has got out of it well! A teacher must have good
and bad pupils in his class, of course; but woe to the commander of a
battery who is disgraced by having a bad officer under him! He has not
been able to educate him! So, instead of an incapable man being got rid
of when he deserves it, an enormous amount of pains and trouble is
wasted on him--absolutely wasted! Disgusting love of show! Instead of
our holding forth everlastingly to these young people about upholding
the honour of their position in the eyes of the world, they should
rather have it brought home to them that they ought to win their own
self-respect by honest and conscientious attention to duty."
"You exaggerate!" murmured Reimers.
"I wish indeed that I did!" rejoined Güntz. "But just you go to every
individual brother-subaltern and say: Is drilling recruits a pleasure
to you? Do you get up early, determined to work hard all day and to
endeavour to train good soldiers for the king? or, do you on awakening
growl that the devil may take the whole dirty pack of recruits?"
"Why don't you rather ask with what thoughts they awake during
gun-practice and the man[oe]uvres?"
"Because the one depends upon the other, my dear fellow. Without
the training of recruits there would be no gun-practice and no
man[oe]uvres. It is just as if we were military teachers. Well,
gun-practice is to a certain extent an examination for the men; while
the man[oe]uvres, as you know, don't teach the men anything new, but
are rather a test for the higher officers. But the teacher who only
wants to make a show at the examination, and who does not expend
all the enthusiasm and inspiration of his calling upon the teaching
itself,--I have no use for him!"
"You really are unjust!" exclaimed Reimers.
"Well, perhaps so----"
"You see, you allow it yourself!"
"But in a different way from what you mean. I say that the subalterns
themselves are only in part answerable for their faults, the other part
of the responsibility is borne by the entire system."
"What system?"
"Why, the system of our entire army service, of our military
education."
"Has it not been tested in three campaigns?"
Güntz was silent for a time, and then he answered, turning away: "Yes,
certainly. But you are not unaware of the fact that a system can go on
being tested until the moment when it collapses?"
"And anyhow," he continued, "all this refers to private thoughts of my
own, about which I can't tell you just yet. I am now going to make the
final experiment, and then I shall have to decide."
"What?"
"Whether I remain an officer or not."
This struck Reimers like a blow. "Güntz, you are mad!" he cried.
His friend shook his head gravely, and said, "We shall see."
Meanwhile, Güntz coolly took up the glove which Landsberg in his
presumption had thrown down. He had decided that, if possible, he would
only meet the young man's impudence with the weapons which stood at his
command as the head of the battery.
One day Güntz had ordered Landsberg to superintend the checking of the
stores ordered by the regiment, and found him instead fast asleep and
carefully covered up on a sofa. This was a gross breach of duty; for
according to the rules the officer in charge should have himself
supervised the checking of the stores by one of the sergeants. But this
was not all; Landsberg had had gunners posted on the watch, so that he
should not be surprised by his commanding officer, and that was
misappropriation of the service staff.
When called to order, he coolly excused himself: "I beg your pardon,
sir; but I really thought it could not matter much about a few dozen
horseshoe nails more or less."
Güntz felt it would have been trouble wasted to explain to the
lieutenant how it was perfectly possible that the lack of "a few dozen
horseshoe nails" might be the cause of a battery's immobility in time
of need. He simply rebuked him briefly and sharply.
Landsberg took the punishment in strictly correct style. But a most
unreasonable anger gleamed in his eyes. He made up his mind in all
seriousness that he would complain of Güntz, and tried to get his
fellow-subaltern, Reimers, to associate himself with him. Reimers,
however, refused politely and decidedly, and moreover spoke to
Landsberg for his good, strongly advising him to submit to discipline
and amend his behaviour.
Landsberg was apparently convinced, and for a time his behaviour rarely
gave occasion for blame. But in the circle of the younger officers he
let fall dark insinuations that he would be revenged for the "insult"
which the hateful martinet Güntz had inflicted on him. He gradually
worked up a genuine hatred of Güntz, and this hatred took an important
place in his previously empty life. He vowed Güntz must stand in front
of his pistol, even if it cost him his officer's sword-knot. With every
reprimand this fury increased, till Landsberg determined to pick a
quarrel with Güntz and somehow positively insult him, when a duel would
be unavoidable.
At last an accident brought things to a climax.
The officers of the second division of the regiment were in the habit
of going occasionally to the Auer, a lonely forest tavern, during the
summer months, to play skittles. The Auer was about an hour's distance
from the garrison, and lay nearly in the middle of the pine forest,
which extended over the mountains and beyond the frontier. The younger
men bicycled there and back, while their elders either rode or drove.
Major Schrader arranged these excursions, and bore the expenses
himself. They were partly intended to provide opportunities for
personal intercourse between him and his officers.
He declared himself a lover of rural life, and the party always fell in
with country ways quite contentedly. Pilsener beer was the tipple, or,
at most, a little brandy or gin; and in the way of food, fresh eggs and
butter, black country bread and strong ham, played the principal parts.
Scandal-mongers of course wanted to know whether, the Auer's landlady
had been a former sweetheart of the major's, and Schrader defended
himself laughingly against the insinuation; although he need not have
been ashamed of the dignified, buxom woman, so scrupulously neat and
clean. It certainly was a fact that no one ever saw the landlord of the
Auer, and that the landlady's two smart boys, who helped so cheerfully
in picking up the skittles, bore a striking resemblance to the major.
It was in the courtyard of the Auer tavern, when, after one of these
excursions of Major Schrader's, they were getting their bicycles out of
the shed, that Landsberg's rancour broke out.
He had not been thinking about his grievances at the moment. He had
preferred a stronger drink than the light beer, had almost emptied a
half bottle of gin, and was more inclined for sleep than for anything
else, so that he did not find his bicycle quickly. Güntz made some
harmless chaffing remark, and a violent quarrel broke out.
Finally Güntz turned away, shrugging his shoulders. He considered that
Landsberg was drunk. But the lieutenant suddenly ran after him and
aimed a blow at him, striking him on the arm. The other men at once
threw themselves between the two, and held Landsberg fast. The young
fellow, perfectly mad with rage, kicked out with his feet and literally
foamed at the mouth.
Schrader had him taken home in a carriage by his adjutant and Captain
Madelung. To Reimers he said: "My dear Reimers, you will see that your
friend Güntz goes home quietly, won't you?" And Reimers replied: "Yes,
sir."
Güntz signed to his friend to remain behind. From the dark
skittle-alley they could watch their comrades starting for the town,
all much depressed by the untoward occurrence, speaking in undertones,
and accompanying their whispered words with restrained gestures.
For a few minutes Güntz walked silently up and down the gravel-strewn
skittle-alley. Reimers sat down in a small arbour, where the empty
barrel still lay upon a bed of ice. When Güntz stood still, Reimers
could hear the drops of the melting ice falling into the earthen basin.
Otherwise all was silent, until the steps on the crunching gravel
approached once more.
"I think we can go now," said Güntz, in his calm voice, which only
sounded a little harder than usual.
Reimers answered: "All right, if you like."
"Yes. Let us go."
In the courtyard the senior-lieutenant suddenly stood still. "The
devil! I am horribly thirsty!" he said, clearing his throat.
"Shall I fetch you a glass of beer from the bar?" suggested Reimers.
"No, don't bother. Water will do me more good," replied Güntz.
He returned to the arbour, fetched a glass, and went to the well. The
pump creaked discordantly in the stillness of the night.
In the moonlight Reimers saw how his friend drank the clear water with
eager gulps, filled the glass again, and again emptied it.
Then they went towards the shed in which the bicycles had been stored.
"That was delicious water," said Güntz, with a sigh of satisfaction.
"The strength of the forest and of the earth!"
The shed was badly lighted by a miserable oil lamp. The two machines
were leaning against the wall. Outside was a third--Landsberg's. Güntz
pushed it in under cover.
"It would be a pity," he said, "for the night dew to spoil the nickel."
They wheeled their bicycles slowly through the gate, and as they were
starting Güntz said: "Look here, dear boy; will you go to Landsberg
early to-morrow morning and take him a challenge? I will see about the
announcement to the court of honour myself."
Reimers answered simply, "Yes." And then he added: "But what are the
conditions?"
The senior-lieutenant considered for a moment.
"Oh, well," he said at last, "the court of honour will decide as to
that. Meanwhile, say fifteen paces, and three exchanges of shots."
"Right."
"Well, off then! But look out, it's horribly dark."
The two friends rode in silence until they reached the garden gate of
Güntz's house. The senior-lieutenant would have said a mere brief
farewell, but Reimers held him fast.
"Güntz," he said, "I can't help thinking that a challenge on grounds
connected with the service is incorrect. And--I believe that it is so
in the present instance."
"Yes," replied Güntz, "the private reason is undoubtedly connected with
the service. Landsberg wishes to revenge himself because I reprimanded
him sharply. But overtly the affair has arisen quite otherwise. I have
no alternative but to challenge him."
"Yes, you are right," acknowledged Reimers. He stood awhile leaning
against his bicycle, deep in thought, until Güntz pressed his hand, and
said, "Good night, dear boy!"
And Reimers answered, "Good-night, my dear Güntz." Güntz put his
bicycle carefully away, and then quietly went upstairs. During the
summer months, when his duty sometimes began at five o'clock or even
earlier, he occupied a small bedroom next to the larger one in which
his wife and child slept. But the door of communication between the two
rooms was always open.
In a few rapid movements he took off his sword and his spurred boots.
Then he went to the door of the bedroom and listened in the darkness. A
slight breeze came from the garden and moved the lowered window-blind
with the regularity of a pendulum. Somewhere in the grass a cricket was
chirping; and through the slight noises the deep contented breathing of
the two sleepers could be heard, slow and deep the mother's, and the
child's soft and light.
Güntz leant against the lintel and listened lovingly to the sweet,
regular sounds. This room contained a world of happiness for him; and
the breathing of his sleeping dear ones was to him the most priceless
music.
Suddenly he shivered in the warm August air. An over-powering fatigue
almost paralysed his limbs, and one single horrible thought filled his
mind.
Wearily he pulled off his clothes, and was soon wrapped in heavy sleep.
The court of honour endorsed the challenge but it modified the terms,
arranging that instead of three interchanges of shots there should be
two, at fifteen paces. The duel was to take place early the next
morning, at half-past five, on the pistol-practice ground of the
regiment.
After Reimers had presented the challenge to Landsberg, he made all the
necessary arrangements to act as his friend's second. He whispered the
time and the place to Güntz while at the table in the orderly-room
signing despatches.
The senior-lieutenant nodded curtly, and answered: "Right; I'll speak
to you later."
Sergeant-major Heppner approached him, and said: "At what time
to-morrow morning do you wish the battery to be ready for the tactical
exercises, sir?"
Güntz was at once on the spot. He signed the order and leant back.
"To-morrow? H'm!" he murmured.
The duel was to take place at half-past five. He considered; in a
quarter of an hour one could easily cover the short distance between
the shooting-ground and the barracks.
"Six sharp," he then answered decisively.
Heppner replied: "Yes, sir, six o'clock;" and wrote the time in the
order-book.
"Yes, six o'clock," repeated Güntz.
If it were no longer possible for him, then Reimers would command the
battery.
It was Wednesday, the day on which Reimers was engaged to dine with the
Güntzes. He would have excused himself, so that his friend should
devote himself undisturbed to his wife and child, but Güntz refused:
"Nothing of the kind, my boy. Why, Kläre might smell a rat! No, no! you
must come. But you'll have to put on another expression, you know!"
So Reimers went, but left unusually early, and when he returned to his
quarters Gähler handed him a letter from Falkenhein.
The colonel wrote as follows:
"MY DEAR REIMERS,--I return from Kühren about eleven o'clock, and I beg
of you to look me up this evening without fail.
"Yours,
"v. F."
Here was a glimmer of hope! Perhaps this wretched duel might yet be
avoided! The colonel of a regiment had in certain cases the right to
suspend the judgment of the court of honour, and to refer the matter
directly to the throne for a decision.
Frankly, Reimers could not think on what, in this case, such
interference could be based. The affair seemed just as clear and
distinct as could well be; a verbal quarrel whence resulted the actual
insult, which, though not serious, left not the smallest loophole for a
revocation. The duel seemed utterly inevitable.
Falkenhein was already waiting for him. The firm, clear-headed man was
in a state of almost feverish excitement. He walked restlessly up and
down the room, constantly buttoning and unbuttoning a button of his
coat.
"Thank you for coming, my dear Reimers," he said in a voice of forced
steadiness, and speaking in jerky sentences. "Tell me, you are his
second to-morrow, are you not?"
"Yes, sir," answered Reimers.
"It is a good thing that you will be there. Yes, it is a good thing.
I--I felt I must speak to you about it. It is true that a commander
should come to his decisions alone, and I have done that--but now I
must speak to some-one. I have not been to Kühren; I sent the carriage
away, and have been walking in the forest for a long time, and alone.
This duel--it is a mistake, a terrible mistake; that's certain. But my
hands are tied. I can do nothing to prevent it. And yet if things go
badly, I shall be partially responsible. My best officer, one of the
best, most excellent of men, against a lazy ne'er-do-weel! God knows
that laws are sometimes utterly unreasonable, and many of our ideas are
equally senseless. I have racked my brains to find a way out of this
difficulty, and it seems impossible. I know that Landsberg's real
reason is military antagonism; but despite that, I dare not interfere."
The colonel stopped suddenly right in front of the lieu-tenant, and
looking him squarely in the eyes, asked: "Do you really think that
Güntz's honour is affected?"
Reimers was silent. A "yes" seemed to him quite contrary to reason, and
yet he could not say "no."
Falkenhein had again begun to walk up and down the room, not awaiting a
reply.
At last he turned again to Reimers.
"Well, the matter must take its course," he said, in a somewhat calmer
tone. "One thing, however, I ask you to do for me. Directly all is over
to-morrow, will you come and tell me--quite privately? I shall hear
officially from Kauerhof. He's to be umpire, isn't he? And be quick,
won't you, even if all has gone well?--a 'three-cross' ride!"[A]
[Footnote A: The necessary speed in conveying military despatches is
indicated by crosses. Thus, one cross signifies walking and trotting
alternately; two crosses, a quick trot; and three crosses, as fast as
the strength of the horse will permit.]
He held the lieutenant's hand in his, and pressed it warmly. His
depression seemed to have partly passed away.
"But you must not break your neck," he concluded, smiling slightly.
"And now let us hope for a happy meeting!"
In passing Reimers glanced at the Güntzes' villa. It was all in
darkness, save for the window of his friend's study on the ground
floor, whence a light was still gleaming.
Within, Güntz sat at his writing-table, with several sheets of paper
lying before him. For more than an hour he had been staring at the
white sheets and reflecting.
Shortly after ten Kläre had fed her baby; and then, the sleeping child
tenderly clasped in her arms, she had gone up-stairs. Her husband had
watched her through the half-open door, and the nursery-lullaby with
which she hummed the child to sleep sounded in his ears for long after.
Now he sat there, not knowing whether he would ever again see his
wife's honest, sensible eyes, or the droll, wondering gaze of his
child.
A hard battle was going on within him, and once or twice he raised his
hand as if to push a heavy weight from his brow.
The cuckoo-clock in the corner by the stove cuckooed twelve times, and
then from without sounded the deep, full tone of the parish-church
clock. The new day had begun.
With a strong effort Güntz raised himself, bent over the white leaves,
and with swift-moving pen filled page after page.
He had decided to send in his resignation.
The request should go up to the regiment before the duel, and now he
was explaining to Reimers the reasons which had decided him to take
this sudden step. To Reimers alone. But if he wished he might show the
letter to the colonel. The opinion of any one else was immaterial to
him.
At the outset he begged his friend not to think that he had withdrawn
from the duel out of cowardice. He could point to his whole previous
life in support of this--the life of a quiet, resolute man, always
consistent with his principles. And, after all, Reimers knew and
trusted him.
This duel was utterly senseless, brought about as it had been by a
laughably trivial occurrence; and, moreover, it was in the highest
degree unfair, despite the fact that both duellists would face each
other under similar conditions, with similar weapons, and with the same
sun and the same wind. It was unfair, because the stakes were of such
totally unequal value. A man in his prime, who had done good work in
his profession and promised to do still more, must pit himself against
an irresponsible young fellow, who up to the present had shirked
everything serious. And then Güntz's position as husband and father
must be compared with his opponent's irregular life. An absolute cypher
was opposed to a number that counted; and, moreover, to a number
doubled in its capacity.
Güntz said roundly that he regarded his life as too valuable to be
thrown into the balance of this quarrel.
Then he went more into detail with regard to the doubts which for weeks
had been harassing him and driving him towards the decision to renounce
his right to wear the uniform of an officer; the strong doubts as to
whether, under existing conditions, German officers were not
undertaking work of no benefit to the future.
He did not mean to say that the calling of an officer was an altogether
unproductive vocation. The yearly training of a large number of
soldiers, who supported the credit of the kingdom, and thereby insured
peace, was, no doubt, a positive factor in both political and social
life.
But was this bulwark, which year by year was rebuilt and strengthened
anew, really secure enough to withstand storms and assaults?
That was just what he doubted.
The organisation of the German army rested on foundations which had
been laid nearly a hundred years ago. Prussian institutions, tested by
many victories, had been transferred to the new empire, and were still
continued. Since the great war they had never seriously been put to the
proof; and during the three last decades they had only been altered in
the most trifling details. In three long decades! And in one of those
decades the world at large had advanced as much as in the whole
previous century!
The system of the military training of the men, evolved in an age of
patriarchal bureaucratic government, had remained pedantically the
same, counting on an ever-present patriotism. Meanwhile, in place of
the previous overwhelming preponderance of country recruits, a fresh
element had now been introduced: the strong social-democratic
tendencies of the industrial workers, who, it is true, did not compose
the majority of the contingents, but who, with their highly-developed
intelligence, always exerted a very powerful influence.
Now, instead of turning this highly-developed intelligence to good
account, they bound it hand and foot on the rack of an everlasting
drill, which could not have been more soullessly mechanical in the time
of Frederick the Great. And they expected this purely mechanical drill
to hold together men from whom all joyful spontaneity was taken by the
stiff, wooden formalism of their duty, and not a few of whom cherished
the very opposite of patriotism in their breasts! Drill was to maintain
discipline among them? It held them together as an iron hoop holds
together a cask, the dry staves of which would fall asunder at the
first kick!
Confronting the men stood their officers, who, although many of them
actuated by the most honourable intentions, were quite incompetent to
guide the recruits to a convinced and conscious obedience, a voluntary
patriotism. The officer, as a consequence of his origin or education,
was separated by a veritable abyss from the sensations and thoughts of
the common soldier; and, on the other hand, the soldier was unable to
understand the spirit in which he was treated by the officer. It thus
came about that the officer for the most part had a pretty low opinion
of the privates, while the private did not fail to form his own
conclusions as to the officers.
The constancy with which the German corps of officers clung to the old
principles of army organisation was worthy of a better cause. Pinning
their faith to their glorious traditions, all criticism was set down as
malicious gossip, even if it came from their own midst. To an ideal of
such doubtful value they devoted their industry and strength. And it
was strange how little the analogy of the miserable year 1806
shook military self-confidence, despite the startling points of
resemblance. Now, as then, the complaint was of the one-sided
reactionary training of the officers, which must separate them from the
forward movement of the people; now, as then, there was a kind of
hidebound narrow-mindedness, too often degenerating into overweening
self-conceit, making them a laughing-stock to civilians; and, finally,
now as then, there were the same stiff, wooden regulations, the
mechanical drill, which, despite all personal bravery, failed utterly
before the convinced enthusiastic onrush of the revolutionary army. But
worse than defeat in battles was the cowardly capitulation of
strongholds which ensued. The commanders of those days certainly
understood how to command the evolutions of a battalion, how to direct
a parade march, and how to ensure that all pigtails were of the
regulation length; but despite all the drill and all the pedantry, they
remained strangers to the inspiration which inaugurated a new era of
military service--the new patriotism, the love of one's country. They
had stood in a strongly personal relationship to their king but it no
longer sufficed to save them. They had shouted "Long live the king!"
thousands of times; yet they betrayed the king when they presumed he
had lost because they knew no better.
They had _played_ too long at being soldiers to be able really to be
soldiers.
Subsequently such men as Scharnhorst, Boyen, and Gneisenau directed the
military service into the new paths of allegiance to the nation; a work
which was crowned by the unexampled successes of the years 1870-71.
But since that epoch, while the foundation of the system--the people
themselves--had with each new year altered and progressed in every
relation of life, yet the system itself had remained unchanged, and the
German officer's devotion to duty, similarly unchanged, was largely
wasted by being directed into worn-out channels.
Again, it must be deeply deplored that promotions were no longer due to
military efficiency alone, but also to victories achieved at the courts
of princes. To this circumstance, opening up, as it did, an anything
but reassuring view of the good faith of the authorities, was to be
added yet another, also tending to undermine the soundness of the army:
the ever-increasing luxury apparent in military circles. Of necessity,
and in the true interests of the army, the best material in the
corps of officers--the members of the old noble and gentle "army
nobility"--were careful to shun this vice. These officers, whose
families had often served the king as soldiers for four or five
generations, held fast to a Spartan simplicity of life, and to the old
Prussian independence of material comforts, and with them were all
those who regarded their vocation as something loftier than an
amusement. Otherwise, a most unsoldierlike luxury was spreading
unhindered in all directions, causing the young subalterns especially
to neglect their duties, and rendering them in great measure absolutely
unfit for real hard work and privations. And despite the numerous
orders levelled against them, these tendencies continued to increase,
because of the lack of a good example in high quarters.
The plain and simple uniform in which so many great victories had been
won no longer sufficed. New embellishments medals, cords, trimmings, or
what not were eternally being devised. As though such mere external
trumpery could create anew the now waning love for military service!
In what striking contrast stood the magnificent goblets of delicate
porcelain and other costly materials, in which the officers of the
Chinese Expedition offered champagne to their French comrades, to that
broken-footed glass cup out of which--and in abominably bad wine--King
William drank to the victors of St. Privat!
All became clear to Güntz as he wrote, and he felt as though a heavy
burden were being lifted from his shoulders.
He concluded: "I can no longer regard as valuable the work which as an
officer it is my duty to perform, and have therefore decided to resign
my commission. Although I am only one small wheel in a large and
complicated machine, I have still the right to give my opinion; and I
am making use of that right because I recognise that the mechanical
power which drives this machine is threatened with paralysis, and will,
in my view, infallibly succumb unless there is an entire reconstruction
of the whole fabric. That, I fear, is not to be expected within any
reasonable time."
He laid down his pen, and looked thoughtfully at the closely written
sheets.
Everything that he had set down had been well considered and frequently
thought over; but was it right, after all, to send in his application
just at this moment? Was it right for him to break the vow he had made
to himself that he would test himself carefully, that he would pass a
year in command of the battery before making his final decision? Ought
he not to stand by the calling to which his life had been dedicated,
until he could resign quite voluntarily, fully convinced, and without
any extraneous considerations? Without, for instance, the danger of
losing his life through the custom of this calling--a custom, just or
unjust, but which at any rate was in operation and perfectly well known
to him?
The lamp under the green shade began to burn less brightly, and
flickered with a quick hissing sound. The hands of the cuckoo-clock
pointed to half-past four.
Güntz got up and stretched himself. He walked firmly to the window,
pushed the curtains far back, and opened both sides of the casement.
Outside the warm summer's night was giving place to the dawn of day. A
cool morning breeze blew into the room, fluttering the curtains, and
extinguishing the lamp's weak flame. It cooled the man's eyes and
filled his lungs with fresh air.
Güntz drew himself up. He returned to the writing-table, placed the
loose leaves carefully in order, and locked them in a drawer.
Right or wrong he would keep his word.
He scribbled a few words on a sheet of paper: "My Kläre, I love you
unspeakably. You and the boy. Be brave!"
He glanced round to see where he should lay the paper. In the end he
folded it up, and put it under a meteoric stone, shaped like a fungus,
which during their honeymoon he had found on the sand-dunes of the
Heligoland coast.
The servant knocked, and brought in the coffee. He had found the
senior-lieutenant's bed untouched, and his face showed his surprise.
The coffee was too hot, but the water in the carafe was deliciously
cold. Güntz damped his handkerchief and wiped the ravages of the night
from his brow and eyes.
Then he went again to the window and the refreshing morning breeze. He
was in good spirits. He felt as if nothing untoward could happen to him
that day.
There was a sound of hoofs in the street outside. The groom had brought
the brown mare. He held the animal before the garden gate and carefully
took a piece of straw out of her mane.
Güntz told him to walk her quietly up and down. He must wait for
Reimers, who would be sure to come directly.
Soon in between the measured paces of the led horse came the sound of a
quicker step. Güntz recognised the fidgety trot for that of Reimers
horse "Jay." He went out of the house and through the iron gate into
the street.
"Morning, my boy!" he said, and offered his hand to Reimers. Then he
mounted, and both trotted down the street in silence.
Once outside the town Güntz let his mare slow down. "We are in plenty
of time," he said.
Suddenly he stopped and listened. A horse's trot and the rumbling of a
carriage could be heard coming from the town.
"The others," said the senior-lieutenant. "Let us get on."
The pistol practice-ground lay half way up the incline upon a
shelf-like terrace of the hillside, a smooth grassy space, surrounded
on both sides by high bushes; at the lower end there was a shed built
of strong boards, in which tools and targets were stored.
Güntz and Reimers dismounted at the shed, and fastened up their horses
by the bridle. Reimers pressed his friend's hand once more, gazing at
him with anxious eyes. He could not speak.
They stood side by side on the edge of the terrace, whence they could
look down upon the country road in the valley below. A carriage was
approaching, followed by three riders: Landsberg, little Dr. von
Fröben, his second, and Gretzschel, who was brought chiefly to look
after the horses.
The carriage stopped at the foot of the hill. Kauerhof got out, with
the pistol cases in his hand, and after him the surgeon-major and his
assistant, both with instrument cases. The three other men rode slowly
behind them up the steep incline.
Before the shed, brief polite greetings were exchanged, Gretzschel
remaining there with the horses.
There was a singular expression of shyness on the faces of all. One
might have fancied that these men were assembled for some guilty
purpose. Güntz alone looked frank and unembarrassed.
The prescribed attempts at reconciliation were unsuccessful. Güntz
shook his head in refusal.
Then Kauerhof began to measure the distance. He had long legs, and he
made the fifteen paces as lengthy as possible.
Just at this moment the sun rose above the mountains on the other side
of the valley.
Kauerhof loaded the pistols, and the seconds carried them to their
principals. Güntz nodded cheerfully to Reimers as he took his weapon.
The umpire then took up his position and convinced himself with a
glance that all was prepared. The duellists were standing at their
marked lines, the seconds at a little distance alongside of them. He
took out his watch, and glancing at it said: "I shall count: ready,
one, then three seconds; two, and again three seconds; then, stop!
Between one and stop, the gentlemen may fire."
He glanced round once more. The four officers stood motionless in the
clear light of the sun, Landsberg sideways, Güntz with his broad chest
facing his opponent. The junior surgeon wiped the moisture from his
brow; Andreae tugged nervously at his hair.
The umpire counted.
Landsberg raised his pistol at once and fired. Güntz heard the bullet
whizz past on his left. He had directed his barrel a little to the side
of his opponent's shoulder, and pressed the trigger. The shot missed
fire. He had forgotten to cock the pistol.
The second attempt at reconciliation was also unsuccessful.
Again Kauerhof gave the word.
Güntz saw Landsberg's pistol aimed directly at his breast. Then
Landsberg looked up, and for the hundredth part of a second caught his
opponent's gaze.
Landsberg's aim was unerringly directed on his man, when suddenly his
hand began to shake, and he fired blindly, just as he heard Güntz's
bullet whistle past him.
Güntz stood unharmed, a happy smile on his good-natured, open face.
Reimers hastened up to him and seized his hand. He would have liked to
throw his arms round the dear fellow's neck.
Now the reconciliation took place, and when the opponents shook
hands Landsberg's glance fell before the honest eyes of the
senior-lieutenant.
All traces of embarrassment vanished from the men's faces. There were
sighs of relief, and hearty congratulations; the two doctors packed up
their grisly instruments again; all were anxious to get away, and to
report the fortunate result of the duel to their comrades. Reimers was
on his horse and already starting off at a trot, when Güntz called to
him: "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
And Reimers shouted back gaily: "The colonel's waiting. 'Three
crosses,' my orders say!"
The senior-lieutenant rode slowly down. He himself had plenty of time
to spare. It was only ten minutes after the half hour, and it was not
until six o'clock that he was due at the tactical exercises.
The carriage and the three riders overtook him. Dr. von Fröben and
Gretzschel greeted him with candid joy in their faces; Landsberg was a
little stiff. The surgeon-major blew him a kiss from the carriage.
Güntz responded cordially, and continued at his leisurely pace.
The colonel was looking out into the street from his high summer-house
in the garden. Reimers recognised him from a distance, and as nothing
better occurred to him he took off his cap and waved it in the air.
Falkenhein checked him energetically when he was preparing to dismount.
"Stay where you are! Stay where you are!" he cried. "So all has gone
well?"
"Yes, sir," answered Reimers, still out of breath with his quick ride.
The colonel heaved a sigh of relief.
"I am glad; very, very glad!" he said.
In the barrack-yard Gähler was waiting for his master. He handed him
his helmet and bandolier and took the forage-cap in exchange.
The battery was ready to move on. Reimers set his horse to a short
gallop and rode up to Güntz. "I beg to report myself, sir," he said.
Güntz nodded to him smilingly, and gave the words of command in his
clear, resonant voice.
In the midst of the exercises two riders suddenly approached from the
town. At first it was difficult to recognise them in the thick dust;
but Sergeant-major Heppner announced that he saw the colonel's big
sorrel horse. It was in fact the colonel and his adjutant.
Güntz galloped up to them and gave his report.
Falkenhein thanked him.
"I only wanted to watch you for a little," he said simply. And his eyes
shone joyfully on seeing the officer he had learnt to love stand unhurt
before him.
He approached the battery and greeted them with his powerful voice:
"Good morning, sixth battery!"
And the many-voiced reply was shouted back: "Good morning, sir!"
Falkenhein rode slowly along the ranks, taking stock of everything with
his sharp eyes; then he spoke: "Senior-lieutenant Güntz, be kind enough
to continue!"
It was a lucky day. Everything went like clockwork; there was not a
hitch, not the smallest oversight.
At the conclusion of the exercises the colonel ordered the officers and
non-commissioned officers to come to him. His criticism contained
nothing but approbation, and he crowned his praise by saying: "I
rejoice that the sixth battery, though under new leadership, has again
proved its excellence. And I am proud of commanding a regiment to which
belong such admirable officers and non-commissioned officers and such a
faultlessly trained battery."
He shook hands with Güntz, and whispered to him softly: "I rejoice
doubly--threefold--a hundredfold, my dear Güntz."
Güntz gave the order to march.
He rode thoughtfully beside Reimers at the head of the battery. The
colonel's unstinted praise was a great joy to him; but besides that he
had found a still higher prize: for the first time during many months
he had a heartfelt conviction of his vocation as an officer. He had
done his duty this morning as if rejuvenated; all doubts had left him,
and it did not seem as if a tinge of bitterness remained behind.
He thought of all those written sheets which he had locked in his desk
during the night. When had he found his way through the wood? At the
writing-table, or here in the rye-stubble in which the tracks of the
gun-carriage wheels had made deep ruts?
Well, in any case he had done right not to break away suddenly from the
time of probation on which he himself had determined; for it was
certainly strange how a calm, stead-fast man, such as he believed
himself to be, could be so swayed backwards and forwards in opposite
directions in such a short time. During the night he had been firmly
resolved to retire; a few hours later this step seemed an impossibility
to him.
Was there really so little, then, in his imagined calmness and
steadfastness?
But he was glad that the time of probation, though not shortened,
would, on the other hand, not have to be extended. He would command the
battery for a year; by then he must have made his decision.
And for to-day he was determined to put no check on his joy and good
humour.
Frau Kläre wondered at her husband, who would not leave her a moment in
peace with his teasing and nonsense, and even waked the baby up from a
sound sleep.
And Güntz stood beaming before the mother and child, laughing heartily
at the angry howl set up by his little son, and lighted his cigar with
a spill until the whole piece of paper was reduced to a cinder.
He had made that spill out of the farewell note he had placed under the
fungus-like letterweight.