KRIEG (War)

by Ludwig Renn

  “Pssst!” said Ziesche and pointed to the left front. There was a flash and shot that rolled across the valley. We crept closer. There stood two men.

  “What are you shooting at?”

  “Someone’s moving up ahead.”

  I tried to make out something forward. Below, on the ground, a small fire was burning. “Is that a French outpost?”

  “Yes, they must have been very tired to not have come any farther. And they have to make a fire because they don’t have any field kitchens.”

  Now I saw further to the left through the fog another light, larger but less definedA shot from across the way whined over us.

  We went back to the street. A large, dark thing came toward us. It gave an extended bawl.

  “Can’t we milk the cow?” whispered Lamm.

  “It’s not possible. Didn’t you hear the bawling? She has an inflamed udder because she hasn’t been milked. If you touch her udder she will kick.”

  “Is there nothing that can be done?”

  “No, tomorrow or the day after she will be dead—All the livestock here will die the same way because the people have fled.”

  I reported to lieutenant Fabian.

  It was pitch black, foggy, and raining. At the company everyone was snoring. It stank. I felt around cautiously. This one here must be Perle. Next to him I felt a space in which lay a shelter half. A puddle had formed on it. Probably Perle had laid it so that the straw wouldn’t get wet. I squeezed myself between the two. Also, under the shelter half lay my coat. I put it on and buttoned myself into the shelter half. I laid my rifle in my right arm. What were we lying on that it stank so?

  The rain dripped onto my eyelids. A cow mooed close by. From up front there was a shot. The dripping in my face bothered me. Until now we had had it good in that it had not rained.

  I turned onto my side. However, the rain dripped into my ear. I covered it with my cap. Phew, but it stank!

  ——————————

  I was awakened by a bellowing. The cow must be almost stepping on us. The poor animal was in pain and was searching for its people.

  A number of shots rang out one after the other.

  ——————————

  It was a pale morning with thick fog. I turned over. Water ran onto my hand. It was very quiet and I went back to sleep.

  ——————————

  I woke up again. Ziesche was standing in the fog and was busy with his shelter half. I got up. Water stood in the folds of my shelter half. One could only see a distance of about eight steps. My things were stiff and cold with the dampness. There lay a dead cow with a leg sticking up and a swelled udder.

  “We slept in the French sewer trenches,” said Ziesche soberly.

  We went to the field kitchen and got coffee. The Frenchman still sat in his stack. No one wanted to sit and so they just walked here and there.

  Ziesche had found a place for us in a house. I sat down on the floor in a corner and went to sleep.

  ——————————

  There was an explosion. I started up. In the room there was running here and there.

  “To your rifles!” sounded the cry from outside.

  Two shrapnel rounds burst over the next house. Horses wanted to turn around and tangled the traces all up. We went to our rifles and packs.

  “Platoons fall in!” yelled the lieutenant. Lamm appeared pale and miserable.

  We fell in to the right across a meadow that was very bright green. There was a glow above in the clouds. Some distance away there still hung some fog.

  Whoosh! Whoosh! It came over us. “Down!” screamed Vizefeldwebel Ernst. We threw ourselves in the wet grass. To the right stood a tree behind whose wide trunk Sergeant Pferl, our squad leader, threw himself. Pftt! Pftt! Shrapnel zipped over us.

  To the left, ahead of us, was a small smoke cloud maybe ten meters above the meadow. The burst was too far ahead of us and spit its lead balls into the meadow.

  There, ahead of us came the next one! Something whined over us. My stomach and thighs were already wet from the grass.

  To the right front another burst! It made a smoke ring. The meadow was slightly arched so that one could not see the ground where the French must have been.

  Further to the right the fourth shell bursts!

  To the left another one, however, closer! If they continued to shoot like that, from left to right!

  There! I received a light stroke on the chest. My third field jacket button was slightly bent in. I searched in the grass.

  To the right, the next shot! There is the ball. It is still hot.

  The fourth burst is completely to the right. I stick the ball in my right coat pocket—What next?

  Now to the left! That one was very close. Someone moans. It’s got to be here right now.

  Bamm! I feel a hot breeze. I am not hurt. I look to the left.

  Albert looks at me. “I’m wounded in the left leg. Shall I go to the rear?”

  To the right, a burst!

  “Wait until we know where the next bursts are going to hit.”

  The fourth shot was to the right. Now it’s time to make a decision. I looked to the left. There, behind us! “Stay here.” I turned completely around. Behind us on the street howitzers were coming forward. A round roared among the horses. People ran every which way.

  In the meantime the shots fell to the right rear.

  Again a smoke cloud to the left, ahead of us! The same way it began. My fear grew.

  Ahead of me number two!

  Then Three!

  Four!

  Now closer! One!

  Two!

  Three!

  “Platoon Ernst! Up! Double time!” roared the Vizefeldwebel. I sprang up and forward. There was a wire fence with barbs. I lifted one leg over it. The other one caught. I went over. There was a three-cornered tear. We reached the steep slope.

  “Lie down!” yelled Ernst.

  I looked around. Where were the shots coming from? Individual rifle bullets whizzed from the terrain.

  “Straight ahead in the bushes, French! Rear sight, nine hundred—Independent fire!” yelled Ernst.

  The bushes were still below in the fog. Here the sun was shining. There was nothing to see in the bushes. I aimed at a particularly thick bush and shot. Now there was firing all around.

  It spat above me. That went over us. While I was aiming I counted:

  “Three!”

  “Four!”

  “Unteroffizier Pferl!” yelled Ernst. “Come forward!”

  Damn! Pferl was still lying behind the tree and didn’t move.

  One! It was a little ways ahead of us.

  “Unteroffizier Pferl!” yelled Ernst as loud as he could.

  Two!

  “By squads advance!” yelled Ernst.

  Three!

  “Squad Lamm!” called the one-year man to my left. “Up! Double time!”

  We ran forward, Lamm in the lead. Ahead of us lay a thin strip of bushes on a stone wall. “Form a line!” cried Lamm. “Rear sight, eight hundred!”

  We threw ourselves behind the stones. What a guy, the one-year man! And in garrison he couldn’t even make corporal because he couldn’t give a command.

  “At the retreating French!” yelled Lamm. “Rear sight, one thousand! Individual fire!”

  Sure enough! Small groups appeared from the bushes and sneaked to the rear. We fired hastily. However, it appeared that no one was hit.

  The French disappeared into a wood. Our fire stopped. I looked around. To the right another platoon had gone farther forward. Ziesche lay next to me. Where was Perle?

  “March!” commanded Lamm.

  We approached the area. To the left lay a graveled path on which three dead lay. Some there were busying themselves with wounded. Perle was not among them.

  We met the second company in the area and joined with them. We marched through different sections of woods. Evening came and then night.

 
; The Captain of the second company released us and we searched for our own company. In the darkness we happened on different troops and asked, “Third Company?”

  Suddenly there was a voice: “Ludwig?” It was Perle. I stopped and was silent. “Where have you been hiding yourself?”

  “I advanced with the squad to the right of you,” he laughed.

  “Where is Unteroffizier Pferl?” asked Ernst.

  “I don’t know, Sergeant. You are leading the first squad now,” he said to me. “And when Pferl returns he won’t get it back.”

  Someone tugged at my sleeve. It was Lamm. I followed him off to the side. Was he taking it badly that I had been made his superior?

  “I apologize for my giving commands today instead of you.”

  “Ah, rubbish,” I said. “I was very pleased with it—By the way, are you deliberately using the familiar form of speech with me?” I felt somewhat bashful. (Again, Germans use du and dich when addressing friends and family. This translates to thee and thou, which we use when praying.)

  “No, I did that as an oversight. However—it pleases me.”

  “Lamm!” called Fabian.

  “Herr Leutnant!”

  “Ah, there you are!—Speaking plainly, I always took you for a person completely useless in all cases! Don’t be offended by my frankness! Do you know that I have just recommended you for the Iron Cross? But this is just between us, OK? Renn will keep his mouth shut too!” He almost ran away in order not to show his feelings.

  Lugny

  We had had no bread in days. At midday and in the evening we ate meat in a greasy, hot sauce. Who would have had time to clean vegetables, when we crept into a barn in the evening in the dark and were alerted before daylight in the morning? One night we lay on the cobblestones in one place because they forgot to inform us that it was our night to rest. On this night the moon shone. It was cold on the stones. The lieutenant lay close to me with his black beard and moaned and talked to himself as if he had a fever.

  The sun rose early and bright. We marched on a winding, forest road in the cool morning. Finally, there were no more of these straight as an arrow, treeless military roads of Napoleon’s. The lieutenant was cheerful too. However, he had become thin and his face was grey, maybe from the dirt.

  Around noon we moved into quarters. We hung our uniforms and laundry in the sun and washed ourselves in the fountain. Today we could even wash our feet, which we had not been able to take out of our boots for at least two weeks or longer. We sat contentedly at the round table of the deserted house. Ziesche made coffee.

  “Alarm!” boomed the cry from outside. We ran for our coats and boots. In ten minutes the company stood in the street, ready to march. From somewhere forward, the cannons rumbled.

  “Herr Leutnant, do you know what’s going on?” asked Ernst.

  “I don’t know any more than you.”

  We stood in the noonday heat for an hour on the street. Then we marched off with many interruptions. Evening came and then night before we reached a village. The company halted there while our platoon continued farther as sentries.

  “You are Unteroffizier Post One about five hundred meters forward of us along this path.”

  We marched on. The night was dark. I counted my steps. By the three hundred sixtieth step I saw a small rise nearby on the right. There were boulders lying around and the meadow dropped off to the front. To the left was a grain field.

  I placed both the sentries a few steps ahead of us on the path. But what to do with the others? In the grain field they would be out of sight, but it would be easy to surprise them. And if we were attacked they would have to come to the right up the rise. The best thing would be to set them up right here.

  “How are we to be fed here forward?” asked someone.

  I sent him with our camp kettles to the rear and sat down on my pack. Yesterday the moon didn’t rise until around three in the morning, therefore today around four. In addition, the sky was overcast. It was cool and damp on the rise. From the front left came a soft wind.

  Lamm sat down by me. “Do you know where the French are?”

  “No.” What was there further to say?

  After a while behind us I heard metal clanking. Our meal and coffee arrived. I began to ladle it out. It was calf meat with a lot of sauce. “Why don’t we ever get any bread?” asked someone. “Because we are marching so fast that the baker columns can’t keep up,” returned Ziesche.

  With that the conversation again ended. All except Lamm lay down to sleep. We sat silently together.

  There were steps behind us, which came quickly closer. It was Ernst. I reported.

  “In the event of an enemy attack,” he said, “I won’t be able to bring you any help because our front is facing half-left.”

  “Where are the neighboring sentries on our right?” I asked.

  “I sent a patrol over there, but they didn’t meet up with any troops. We are probably hanging on the right here in the air.”

  “Does the Sergeant know anything of the French?”

  “No, nothing. I’m going now to Post Two. They must be on the road on the other side of the field. Have a good watch!”

  We sat down again. We were left here on our own. There was nothing to hear except once in a while a step of one of the sentries or the snoring behind me.

  I tried to look at my watch but couldn’t see the hands. Lamm looked at his luminous watch. “It is almost twelve.”

  “Then you have to go on guard with Ziesche.”

  He woke Ziesche. The other two lay down to sleep. I looked out through the night. I had sat next to the one-year man for almost two hours, and we had found nothing which was worth talking about.

  I stood up and went a little ways to the right. I stood there for a while. But, what was there in that? I went back and sat down again. If one just had something worthwhile to think about!

  One couldn’t smoke here either. The thought of it awakened the desire to smoke in me. I stood up again. I still had two cigarettes. Maybe there was a place here where one could light up without being seen. Among the stalks maybe? No, the two men up front would notice.

  The two hours were finally over. I awakened the next guards and explained our situation to them. As I came back Lamm was sitting as before, next to my pack.

  “Are you not tired?” I asked.

  “I had an unbelievable hatred for the military,” he said, his thoughts turned inward. “But that is nonsense. It had no meaning at all.”

  “And what kind of meaning should the military have?” I asked without any specific interest.

  “That I can’t tell you either. But how should our destiny be a detour?”

  “You believe, therefore, that life goes straight toward a goal?”

  “Yeah, it must be something like that.”

  After a while he got up and then lay down to sleep. At first I was stimulated. Then I became very tired. A couple of times my head fell forward

  In order not to fall asleep I stood up and walked back and forth.

  Horses stamping!

  I listened.

  “Renn!” one of the guards called softly.

  “Yes, I heard it.”

  I grasped the sleepers firmly so that they immediately wakened.

  “Here, occupy the knoll! Rifles forward! But don’t shoot until I say so!” I walked over to the guards. The riders had already come pretty close.

  “You two here in the grain, leave the way free so that we can take them in a cross fire! I’ll throw the field packs out so that the horses will be frightened.”

  I walked back and dragged a couple of packs and blankets onto the path which looked sinister lying there. Then I lay down on the knoll. The stamping came closer, maybe ten horses.

  “Halt, who’s there?” I yelled.

  “Hussar patrol,” laughed one of them.

  “Careful!” I called. “There are field packs lying on the road!” They came in step closer, a non-commissioned officer in th
e lead.

  “Have you met with any French?”

  “No, the villages forward are empty, not even a mouse in them.”

  We had all become excited and chattered with each other. I asked Ziesche to watch for me and wrapped myself in the blanket and shelter half.

  ——————————

  As I woke up it was bright day. A man came from the rear: “The pickets are to return to the outpost.”

  We departed. The company lay in a stubble field with haystacks. On the street, troops were advancing. We got coffee from the field kitchen and were to rest for another couple of hours.

  I lay in a hay stack and let the sun shine on my legs.

  ——————————

  I woke up. The air was hot and lazy. Up front the cannons droned constantly.

  We began moving. There were many stoppages. The artillery was brought forward and then remained standing. We marched in a hazy cloud of dust and sweat. It was so humid that at the slightest pause everyone lay down. The thunder of cannons became increasingly louder. Again the artillery trotted forward. Ahead of us a gap developed. We tried to catch up, but the gap got continually bigger. The lieutenant rode ahead of us. He had a hazel switch in his hand and was using it to urge his horse on. But after a few quick steps it would slow and begin to stumble. Finally he dismounted and gave the horse to his orderly to lead.

  We came up on a rise. Hot meadows stretched before us. No tree. No house. Only in the distance the bursts of shrapnel appeared to stand in the haze. If there was only some water here so that one could refill his canteen.

  Men sat and lay along the sides of the road with dirty handkerchiefs over their heads, their hands and faces swollen. There were more and more who couldn’t keep going.

  Finally we entered a village and rested. We took off our blouses and washed ourselves in the fountain.

  “To your weapons! Put on your gear!” screamed the lieutenant. I rushed into my shirt and blouse and somehow buckled up.