You, Corporal Himmelstoss, sir.
Me?
Yes.
It is getting to him. He looks suspiciously at Kropp because he hasnt any idea of what he is talking about. At all events, he loses confidence and backs down. Didnt you lot find him?
Kropp lies back in the grass and says, Have you ever been out here before, Corporal Himmelstoss, sir?
That is quite irrelevant, Private Kropp, says Himmelstoss, and I demand an answer.
Right, says Kropp and gets up. Have a look over there, Corporal, sir, where the little white clouds are. Thats the flak going for the aircraft. Thats where we were yesterday. Five dead, eight wounded. And that was actually an easy one. So the next time we go up the line[147], Corporal, sir, the platoons will all parade in front of you before they die, click their heels and request in proper military fashion Permission to fall out, sir! Permission to fall down dead, sir![148] People like you are all we need out here, Corporal, sir.
He sits down again and Himmelstoss shoots off like a rocket.
Three days CB, reckons Kat.
Next time Ill let him have it, I tell Albert.
That is the end of the matter for now. Instead, there is a hearing during the evening roll call[149]. Our lieutenant, Bertinck, is sitting in the orderly room and he has us brought in one after the other.
I have to appear as a witness, and I explain why Tjaden blew up. The story about wetting the bed makes an impression. Himmelstoss is fetched in and I repeat my statement.
Is that true? Bertinck asks Himmelstoss.
He fidgets a bit and eventually has to admit that it is, once Kropp has told the same story.
Why did none of you report this at the time? asks Bertinck.
We say nothing. He must know himself how much effect a complaint about something as trivial as that would have had in the army. Can you make complaints in the army at all? Anyway, he gets the point, gives Himmelstoss a dressing-down and makes it clear to him that the front is no parade-ground. Then it is Tjadens turn for a stronger version he gets a full-blown sermon[150] and three days open arrest. Bertinck has a twinkle in his eye when he sentences Kropp to one day. Has to be done, he tells him with a tone of regret. Hes a decent chap.
Open arrest is quite pleasant. The jail was once a chicken-run; both of them can have visitors and we agree at once to go and see them. Close arrest would have meant a cellar somewhere. They used to lash you to a tree, but that isnt allowed any more. Sometimes we get treated quite like human beings.
When Tjaden and Kropp have been behind the chicken-wire for an hour we go and visit them. Tjaden crows with delight when he sees us. Then we play cards well into the night. Tjaden wins, of course, the lucky bastard.
When roll call is over Kat says to me, How do you fancy roast goose?
Not a bad idea, I reply.
We climb on to a munitions convoy[151]. The ride costs us two cigarettes. Kat has taken careful note of the place. The shed belongs to the headquarters of some regiment. I decide that I will fetch the goose, and I get instructions on how to do it. The shed is behind the wall, and only barred with a wooden peg[152].
Kat cradles his hands for me, I put my foot in and scramble up over the wall. Meanwhile Kat keeps a look-out.
I wait for a few moments to let my eyes get used to the dark, then pick out where the shed is. I creep towards it very quietly, grope for the peg, take it out and open the door.
I can make out two white shapes. Two geese. Thats a nuisance; if you grab one, the other one will make a racket. So itll have to be both of them it should work, if Im quick.
I make a jump for them. I get one of them straight away, then a couple of seconds later the other one. I bang their heads against the wall like a madman, trying to stun them. But I obviously dont use enough force. The beasts hiss and beat out all round them with their wings and their feet. I fight on grimly, but my God, geese are strong! They tug at me and I stumble this way and that. In the dark these white things have become terrifying, my arms have sprouted wings and Im almost afraid that Ill take off into the skies, just as if I had a couple of observation balloons in my hands.
And then the noise starts; one of them has got some air into his throat and sounds off like an alarm clock. Before I can do anything about it I hear noises coming towards me from outside, something shoves me and Im lying on the ground listening to angry growling. A dog. I look to one side, and he makes for my throat[153]. I lie still at once and pull my chin down into my collar.
Its a bull mastiff. After an eternity it draws its head back and sits down beside me. But whenever I try to move, it growls. I think for a moment. The only thing I can do is try and get hold of my service revolver. At all events I have to get out of here before anyone comes. Inch by inch I move my hand along.
I feel as if this is all going on for hours. Every time I make a slight movement there is a threatening growl; I lie still and try again. The minute I get hold of my gun, my hand starts to tremble. I press down against the ground and think it out: pull the gun out, shoot before he can get at me, and get the hell out as quickly as possible.
I take a deep breath and calm myself. Then I hold my breath, jerk up the revolver, there is a shot and the mastiff lurches aside, howling, I make it to the door of the shed and tumble over one of the geese, which was flapping out of the way.
I make a grab while Im still running, hurl it with a great swing over the wall and start to scramble up myself. Im not quite over the wall when the mastiff, which has come to itself again, is there and jumping up at me. I drop down quickly. Ten paces away from me stands Kat with the goose in his arms. As soon as he sees me, we run for it.
At last we can get our breath back. The goose is dead, Kat saw to that in a moment. We want to roast it straight away, before anyone realizes what has happened. I fetch pots and some wood from the huts, and we crawl into a small, deserted shed that we know about and which is useful for things like this. We put up a thick covering to block the only window hole. There is a makeshift cooker there an iron plate lying across some bricks. We light a fire.
Kat plucks and draws the goose. We put the feathers carefully to one side. We want to use them to stuff two small pillows, with the motto Sweet Dreams Though the Guns Are Booming[154] on them.
The barrage from the front can be heard as a dull humming all around our hideout. Firelight flickers on our faces, shadows dance on the walls. Airmen drop bombs. At one point we hear muffled screaming. One of the huts must have been hit.
Aircraft roar. The ratatat of the machine-guns gets louder. But our light cant be seen from anywhere outside.
And so we sit facing one another, Kat and I, two soldiers in shabby battle-dress, roasting a goose in the middle of the night. We dont talk much, but we have a greater and more gentle consideration for each other than I should think even lovers do. We are two human beings, two tiny sparks of life; outside there is just the night, and all around us, death. We are sitting right at the edge of all that, in danger but secure, goose fat runs over our fingers, our hearts are close to one another, and time and place merge into one the brightnesses and shadows of our emotions come and go in the flickering light of a gentle fire. What does he know about me? What do I know about him? Before the war we wouldnt have had a single thought in common and now here we are, sitting with a goose roasting in front of us, aware of our existence and so close to each other that we cant even talk about it.
It takes a long time to roast a goose, even when it is young, and there is plenty of fat. And so we take turns. One does the basting, while the other gets a bit of sleep. Gradually there is a wonderful smell all around us.
The noises from outside all merge into one another, become a dream which disappears from the waking memory[155]. Half asleep, I watch Kat as he lifts and lowers the basting spoon. I love him; his shoulders, his angular, slightly stooped frame[156] and then I see woods and stars behind him, and a kindly voice says words to me that bring me peace, me, an ordinary soldier with his big boots and his webbing, and his pack, who is making his tiny way under the skys great vault along the road that lies before him, who forgets things quickly and who isnt even depressed much any more, but who just goes onwards under the great night sky.
A little soldier and a kindly voice, and if anyone were to caress him, he probably wouldnt understand the gesture any more, that soldier with the big boots and a heart that has been buried alive, a soldier who marches because he is wearing marching boots and who has forgotten everything except marching. Arent those things flowers, over there on the horizon, in a landscape that is so calm and quiet that the soldier could weep? Are those not images that he has not exactly lost, because he never had them to lose, confusing images, but nevertheless of things that can no longer be his? Are those not his twenty years of life?
Is my face wet, and where am I? Kat is standing in front of me, his gigantic distorted shadow falls across me like home. He says something softly, smiles and goes back to the fire.
Then he says, Its ready.
OK, Kat.
I shake myself. The golden-brown roast is glowing in the middle of the room. We get out our folding forks and pocket-knives and carve ourselves off a leg each. We eat it with army-issue bread[157] that we dip into the gravy. We eat slowly and enjoy it to the full.
Like it, Kat?
Great. How about you?
Great, Kat.
We are brothers, pressing one another to take the best pieces. When we have finished I smoke a cigarette and Kat has a cigar. There is a lot left over.
Kat, how about us taking a bit over to Kropp and Tjaden? Right, he says. We cut off a chunk and wrap it up carefully in newspaper. We were planning to take the rest back to our billets, but Kat laughs and just says, Tjaden.
Kat, how about us taking a bit over to Kropp and Tjaden? Right, he says. We cut off a chunk and wrap it up carefully in newspaper. We were planning to take the rest back to our billets, but Kat laughs and just says, Tjaden.