KRIEG (War)

by Ludwig Renn

  Someone came running down the road from up front. “Third company?”

  “Yes.”

  “Assemble immediately, but without noise!”

  “On to the road!” ordered Ernst softly.

  We marched off. After only a few steps the forest grew lighter. Houses appeared and a church with a low tent roof. Officers stood on the road.

  “Follow me!” whispered Boehm. “The battalion is attacking.”

  He went quickly ahead on the village street. “Halt!” he whispered. “Pass it to the rear: platoon leaders come to me!”

  The platoon leaders stood at attention.

  “Make yourselves comfortable!—We are supposed to drive the French out of the woods ahead of us. Our company is in the middle. When we come out of the village into the open the second platoon move to the right, the third go to the left. Our front is at an angle to the right of us. In the darkness you must keep your people together, and no loud words!—OK, move out!”

  Ernst gave the signal to assemble.

  To the right and the left stood small houses. We curved off the road onto a meadow. From the right an embankment ran across it. There was nothing to see of any woods. On both sides I could hear the clanking of the entrenching tools of the advancing platoons.

  We climbed up a railroad embankment. Ahead of us lay the woods about three hundred meters’ distance down the steep slope.

  On the left, a rifle shot! The wood was already near. “Spread out!” whispered Ernst.

  I ran ahead of my group. Ahead of me Ernst pulled his pistol from its leather holster.

  On the left came wildly rattling rifle fire!

  “Quick march!” screamed the lieutenant.

  Two shots from up ahead! Twenty steps still to the edge of the woods.

  Rifle shots snapped past. I could see the flashes in the woods.

  The lieutenant threw himself down. I dove beside him on the left.

  Someone came walking forward from the right and fell. It flashed through my head that it must have been Ziesche—should I fire? It popped around my ears. There were flashes along the edge of the woods with red flames.

  One went close over my head! My chin was sticking in the grass. I pulled my shoulders down. On the left a French machine gun was firing.

  Boehm stirred.

  A shot, close by. It clapped. How late can it be? Maybe it is already close to dawn?

  The fire let up a bit. The machine gun on the left still rattled.

  Zoom! Zoom! Zoom! Zoom! It went over us and impacted behind us in the village.

  “To the rear!” whispered Boehm.

  I laid my rifle in my left hand and began to shove myself backwards.

  A shot struck the ground just ahead of my right arm. Zing! Zing! Close over us into the railway embankment.

  I shoved myself farther. My pants rode up my legs. Ahead of us it had become still. Only to the right there was hefty firing and on the left the machine gun was still firing with short pauses. Maybe they can’t see us anymore; I thought and raised myself somewhat more to be better able to crawl.

  To the right lay the one who had earlier fallen there.

  I crawled over to him. He did not move. Maybe it wasn’t Ziesche after all.

  I came close to him. It was Ernst. He had his left arm half under his body.

  I gripped him by the shoulder. There was no movement. I went through his pockets and retrieved his personal effects.

  I peered to the front. The forest was so dark that maybe I could stand up. I raised myself on my knees. A shot went by me to the left!—Naturally, they must be able to see me against the sky.

  I crawled on.

  “Help!” came a whisper from the left. It was Schanze from my squad.

  “What’s wrong with you, then?”

  “Both my legs!” he groaned.

  How could I help him?

  “Can you move?”

  Sch-Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham! Somewhere to the rear.

  He tried to raise himself up. “I can’t do it.”

  “I’ll try to bring some help for you from the rear.”

  He cried quietly. How would I be able to bring help to him? If dawn were to overtake him here so close to the French? I attempted to grip him around the body and somehow move him along.

  “Ahhh!” he moaned. It was a completely muffled cry of pain. This wasn’t possible either. I stood up.

  A shot close from the left!

  I continued on.

  On the left lay another one.

  “Who is it?”

  He didn’t answer, but moved his arms a little. He lay on his back.

  I bent down close over him. Hartmann’s eyes, very black!

  I took his hand, if I could just bring him to consciousness, and squeezed it vigorously in terrible fear. He wasn’t aware of it.

  I turned loose of his hand and stood up.

  It came to me that I should have taken his personal effects. However, I continued on.

  Ahead of me a couple of people were talking.

  “We have to set him on a rifle,” said Boehm.

  The machine gun began firing again.

  “I can’t take hold of it,” responded Ziesche.

  I had now come so close that I could see that Ziesche was holding his right thumb up in the air.

  I helped Boehm carry the man on two rifles. He had been shot in the right ankle.

  “Over there the sky is already getting light,” said Boehm, “and we still have to cross the damned railroad embankment!”

  It became more visible with alarming quickness. The railroad embankment appeared clearly against the brightening sky. A couple of people climbed up and stood out sharp and dark.

  The machine gun began firing, tack, tack, tack, tack. A couple of shells exploded.

  One of the men rolled down the steep embankment. The others sprang back down and came to us.

  With them, we numbered seven men—moreover; the one with the Red Cross band was Weiss. However, he stirred so seldom.

  “We have to dig in,” said Boehm. “We won’t be able to get back before tonight.”

  We carefully set the man with the ankle wound down. Ziesche helped with his left hand.

  Boehm gave directions: “Renn digs in here, I to the right of him, and next, the two from the second company.—You, Ziesche, give me your spade and stand guard. Look around and see if there are others walking around, who can’t get to the rear either.”

  We began to dig. It was no longer possible to bring help to Schanze. It was already noticeably lighter.

  At two-hand widths depth I struck white chalk.

  “Doesn’t anyone here have a pick-ax?” I asked.

  Nobody answered. It was senseless to attempt to cut into the chalk with a short spade. Therefore I scooped up the dark earth and threw up a wall ahead of me.

  Single shots rang out.

  Sch—wham! It went behind the railroad embankment.

  Now my hole was big enough for me. However, I would have to take wounded in also. I looked around. Behind me, Weiss lay on his back, breathing seldom . . .

  But first I had to continue working; then I could worry about him.

  Ziesche had rounded up three more men. One of them began to dig in on my left.

  “Make it so that later we can join our holes,” I said.

  I worked quickly because of the shortness of time. My neighbor also made quick progress, and we shoveled away the last partition between our holes as I suddenly became aware of the brightness of the light. I looked toward the front. The forest lay in a light fog already pretty distinct, however—-

  “Herr Leutnant,” I said. “The French can only see us lying here if they climb into the trees.”

  Boehm took a look to the front. “Well now, I am first going to light a cigarette.”

  He stood up, turned his back to the wind and stuck a cigarette in his mouth.

  A shot! He kneeled down. “Damned gang!—But I’m gonna smoke anyway!—Ptui!” He s
pat. “That knocked out a couple of my teeth!”

  The shot had gone at an angle through his mouth. I crawled over to him.

  “Let it be! It didn’t do anything to my tongue.—Now you can see what smoking is good for!”

  I noticed that the hole was hurting him.

  I crawled over to Weiss. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I have a chest wound.”

  I helped him into the hole.

  Ziesche came crawling over on his left hand and right elbow.

  His thumb was sticking up wide and bloody.

  “Should I bandage you?”

  “Bandage the others first!” he said gruffly. He must have been in a lot of pain.

  In the meantime the man on my left had dragged the man with the ankle wound into the hole and was cutting his boot off.

  I unbuttoned Weiss’s jacket and shirt. He had a small wound on the left under the collar bone.

  “Turn over on your side!”

  I cut his shirt open. The exit wound was also small and had only bled a little bit. I placed the bandage on his back.

  “Don’t you have any adhesive plaster to stick it on with? If not it won’t hold.”

  Zing! A shot passed close over me. It was a bright day and I had, without caution, raised myself up.

  I buttoned up Weiss’s jacket and covered him with a coat and a ground sheet.

  “Cover my eyes also!” he requested.

  Ziesche had already wrapped a bandage around his thumb with his left hand and held it out to me to tie a knot in it for him.

  “It feels like some kind of critter wants to crawl out,” he laughed.

  The lieutenant was still not bandaged. I didn’t have a first-aid packet left. Seidel, the man next to me, didn’t either.

  “Hey, Weiss!” I said and uncovered him somewhat. “I have to get into your bandage pocket.”

  He didn’t answer and breathed only weakly. Apparently breathing was painful for him.

  I got a rolled bandage from his pocket and covered him up again.

  From the front came single rifle shots. Were they shooting our wounded with each single shot? Schanze, to whom I had promised to bring help, was among them. But what should I do?

  I crawled over to the lieutenant. He had placed himself on his stomach and from time to time spit something out. I took off his helmet. How strange! All of the wounded are just like children! I wrapped a bandage over his forehead and around his chin.

  “Like this I must look like a wash woman!” he said. “But with a beard, Herr Leutnant.”

  Now I had to go over to those on the right. However, there were about four strides of open space. If they were sitting over there in the trees they must see me.

  I crawled over. A couple of raindrops fell in the grass. There were four men lying close beside each other in one hole. One of them had a bandage around his forearm. And beside him lay another and appeared terrible to me. Around his mouth and nose it was all swollen and full of blood. He had laid his head on the edge of the ground sheet so that it dripped on the ground. I could tell from his forehead and eyes it was Eckold. How was it possible to bandage him? He looked at me without pause.

  “Can I help you?”

  He didn’t answer. He probably couldn’t speak.

  “You here,” I said to the ones not wounded. “You have to take turns keeping watch. We’re doing the same thing on the other side.”

  I thought, Eckold can’t even eat or drink! And the rain is dripping in his face. But it serves no purpose to stay here and watch him like something worth seeing. I crawled back.

  “You can sleep now,” I told Seidel. “If I become tired, I’ll wake you.”

  “Unpack my ground sheet and my coat,” said Ziesche. I covered him up.

  From the crawling around I was completely smeared with softened chalk and dirt. It began raining harder. It made a soft noise on the grass; other than that it was completely quiet. Weiss had my ground sheet.

  “Come with me under my ground sheet,” said Seidel. He was a very young guy with a round face and round, blue eyes.

  We lay motionless next to each other. I made an opening in the wall in order to see to the front and be able to shoot. Then I just lay and the rain tingled on the ground sheet. I was very calm, or thought I was. Gradually I began to fantasize that it wasn’t Seidel under the groundsheet with me but Perle. And then if I wasn’t imagining things, it was Perle. The rain tingled. Hartmann had been, after all, a dying man.—The tops of the trees ahead of us, across the meadow, did not move.

  Towards evening I heard a moaning from the right that was repeated. Ziesche also began to move under the ground sheet. Weiss appeared to be asleep. However, after a while he moved his hand. I crawled over to him. A puddle stood in our hole. I uncovered his face.

  “Do you need anything?”

  “No,” he smiled, “everything is fine with me.”

  I tried to smile back, but couldn’t do it. I covered him back up. It cramped me inside: he’s going to die!—But if he feels all right? You couldn’t be happy even if someone dies comfortably.—But maybe it really isn’t so bad. The moan came again from across the way.

  Twilight came. Then it became dark. I stood up.

  “Do we want to move to the rear, Herr Leutnant?”

  He mumbled something. He had probably been asleep. “Ah, is it dark?”

  Seidel and I took the man with the ankle wound on our rifles.

  Weiss stood up and declared himself able to move without any trouble. That amazed me. Eckold had to be carried.

  We climbed carefully up the steep railroad embankment to the top. Suddenly, I slipped with my left foot. The man on the rifles howled softly and grabbed me even tighter around the neck. Then we went down on the other side and toward the village. A number of people moved toward us. It was a patrol with litters. We handed our wounded over to them. I shook hands with Ziesche and Weiss, but didn’t know anything to say, much less what to think. I didn’t dare to touch Eckold. Boehm continued with us four unwounded into the village.

  We entered a dark field. Boehm knocked on a door. “Come in!” called someone from inside.

  Boehm opened the door. Inside stood our battalion commander in his coat next to a somewhat fluttering candle–—the window pane was broken.

  “Boehm!” he called and gripped him by both hands. “Can you speak?” he asked and looked worriedly at the bandage.

  “I can even smoke, Herr Major!” said Boehm.

  “Well, that’s good. But what do these four want?”

  “I brought them back uninjured.”

  “There weren’t many who came back yesterday either.—You go in the farm yard across the street! We only have one company left in the battalion, under lieutenant Eger.”

  The four field kitchens stood over there in the yard.

  “Renn!” the company sergeant called me and we shook hands.

  But I couldn’t go anymore. He questioned me about everything. I don’t know what I answered.

  The next morning we moved to the rear to Chailly.

  Stellungskrieg

  (Trench War)

  Trench War at Chailly

  In the meantime, it appears to me that I only dreamed the two weeks at Chailly.

  On the evening of the day after the fight at Sainte Marie, as I laid my baggage down in our quarters and opened my field pack, there lay the letter that I had received from my mother two days earlier, still unread.

  My son! The Pastor’s son, Alfred has fallen, where I can’t remember. I was at the Pastor’s yesterday. They send greetings. The Pastor said to me: “I wish you a happiness that wasn’t granted to us with our only child.” And all the while tears rolled down his face and in a short time he went into his room. Write to them. You can do that so well. Otherwise there is nothing for me to tell you except that I pray for you every day.

  Your Mother

  I went out into the open. On the street I met some of the men from the company. An old woman was
scolding before her door. A small dog slipped around the corner with its tail between its legs. I saw it all and didn’t see it.

  In the quarters my comrades sat smoking and were silent. Or they played cards and there they were also silent. They were melancholy and became unwilling when someone asked them to tell about their experiences. To me that was incomprehensible. If someone would just ask me! I thought. Then one afternoon lieutenant Eger, our new company commander, questioned me about the circumstances surrounding the wounding of Boehm. I told him how he had lit a cigarette and was glad that Eger laughed about it; because I was suddenly afraid to talk about what had happened to the others.

  II

  I arrived back home after a walk through the village. It was twilight. In our quarters everyone was loading his pack.

  “Why are you packing?”

  “Don’t you know yet that we’re going forward again?” said someone sullenly. The others didn’t even look up.

  I got busy with my pack. My hands were weak. Why are we going forward again? Why had they fed us here so regularly if it was to begin over again?

  Beside me someone murmured about the horrible meadow of death. But I didn’t know if I had understood him correctly.—-If one just knew where we were going! Somewhere ahead of us they were supposed to be lying within a hundred and fifty meters or less of each other. How can one—-and, Dear God, how can I live there?

  We assembled before the house. We were about sixty men, the leftovers of four companies. The moon shone on the field.—The company commander will certainly tell us what it is all about.

  The platoon leaders reported to the lieutenant.

  “Rout step—march!”

  We went up the road toward Sainte Marie. We came to the woods and halted again close to the same spot. Are we supposed to attack there again?

  After a half hour Eger came back from the village.

  “Rout step—march!”

  How everything was repeating itself was uncanny to me. And in addition there was the silent lieutenant.

  We went through the village and onto the meadow, in which a path had been trampled. Ahead of us lay the railroad embankment in the moon shadows. As we came close I noticed that a deep ditch ran up it. We climbed up it one behind the other, the lieutenant in the lead. On top the ditch was so deep that I only had to bend over a little to walk under the tracks. Also on the other slope the ditch was deep. Below us I saw, in the moonlight, an irregular ditch with chalk-white piles of dirt.