KRIEG (War)

by Ludwig Renn

  “The third company platoon.” The lieutenant turned to our platoon leader. “Come farthest to the right. You will have to ask where the platoon borders are.”

  We went along in the snaking, knee-deep ditch. I looked around the area, but could not find the spot where we spent the day with the wounded.

  Now came another ditch from the left, at an angle to ours. It looked oddly disorderly, like it was full of junk. I rounded the last corner. The trench was wide and also deep, and on the right there was a garden gate or something similar with ground sheets hung over it. And at the front of the roof there were two rifles and helmets sticking out. They were guards, who were observing from the roof. We couldn’t all crawl through the narrow tent hut so we climbed out of the trench at the rear and continued on.

  The group I was supposed to relieve lay in a trench tunnel that was closed in with tree limbs and clumps of grass.

  “They have to move out before we can go in,” I said to my people. Kneeling, I stuck my head into the hole. “We have come to relieve you.”

  A noncommissioned officer came crawling out and gave me a long speech about what we had to do and couldn’t do. No loud speaking! Don’t pollute the trench; we have had to hold it until night! And most important keep a careful watch on the enemy and by an enemy attack the trench must be held at all cost.

  Why do you think we are here then? I thought angrily. He continued to talk. I didn’t even listen anymore. I couldn’t take notice of it all at one time.

  “That’s all, I think.—Oh yes, at night everyone has to be on watch, during the day only half. Ahead of us on the left about fifty paces is a listening post.”

  “Has the company sent patrols forward?” I asked. “I mean, have they taken the identification tags and personal effects from them?”

  “Yes, but I have not been forward.—Were you part of the attack back then too?”

  “Yes,” I said, outwardly cold.

  “Our listening post ahead is supposed to have heard the screaming of the wounded last night. During the day nothing can be seen forward.”

  I felt churned up inside. The attack was two weeks ago. No one could still be alive. But, what if? . . .

  The previous group moved out. We set up housekeeping in the earthen hut. It was very narrow. Then I went out into the open again. I wanted to go forward to look around for myself. But as long as the moon was shining it was out of the question.

  Our platoon leader came and gave all sorts of directions. I told him that I wanted to go forward.

  “We have to ask the company commander first.”

  I was annoyed again.

  “You want to go on a patrol?” asked lieutenant Eger. He warned me not to be careless and to watch the ground so as not to stumble and betray us. I should take two men with me, but we shouldn’t go too close together. He couldn’t stop and gave me at least a half hour of good advice. I had already thoroughly worked out my plan for going forward. Are we children? I won’t ever go on another patrol—or secretly!

  I crept out of the lieutenant’s hole. Outside the air was fresh and the moon was already low over the woods behind us.

  I discussed the patrol with Seidel and another man, but didn’t tell them one word of what the lieutenant had said. During the meantime the moon went down.

  One of our guards said: “Psst!”

  “What’s up then?” I whispered.

  “Something moved up ahead.”

  I looked sharply in that direction and thought I could also make out something dark. Could French patrols be out front?

  “Fire on it if it moves again,” I said.

  That made me somewhat unsettled. We crawled very carefully out of the trench with our rifles ready. The dark object became clearer, but appeared thin. It was a wooden stake. Next to it more were driven in and strung with wires.

  We had to hold to a half-left direction because our attack had been farther to the left. I was looking for the shape of a group of trees that I had seen against the sky. I wanted to search that first.

  We stood up quietly. The grass was wet and only rustled a little bit. I had told the others not to make any swinging movements because those are the easiest to see in the dark.

  There was something on the ground. I was uncertain. From the distance it could be the listening post.

  “Halt, who’s there?” came a whisper.

  “Patrol, third company.” I went over to them. “Tell those who relieve you that we are out front and to be careful about shooting.”

  We went further. I could see the upper edge of the woods more clearly against the sky. Therefore I ducked slowly and crawled along on all fours. There appeared to be something ahead. I moved slowly. The thing ahead of me was too low to be a person. I came within two paces of it. It was strikingly dark. I reached for the object. It was a blanket with a pack underneath.

  Suddenly I smelled something. The wind came from the left. We crawled that way. Outlines appeared. It was two or three bodies. While the two with me busied themselves with them I searched with my eyes for the group of trees. It must be further to the left. Therefore we moved in that direction and stayed in line with the bodies. Hartmann must lie further to the front.

  I crawled somewhat to the front and saw someone lying alone. That could be him. But the outlines of the trees were not those of that night. Were my memories not right?

  I turned to Seidel: “I’m going to crawl up ahead. You two continue further on here.”

  As I came forward, there lay a Frenchman. He smelled strongly. His blouse was ripped open. Probably he had already been searched. I continued to look around. There lay another one. It was Hartmann. I searched through his pockets. They were empty. However, his bread pouch and pack were still there. I rolled him onto his stomach in order to take them off. Maybe there were some of his personal things still in them.

  Then I slid to the rear and pulled the pack and bread pouch after me.

  We went back. I crept into lieutenant Eger’s hole. He had been asleep. I put the retrieved papers into his hand.

  “Phew, but that stinks!”

  Suddenly some shells landed not far to the right of us. The woods there hindered us from being able to see anything. The fire rumbled and crashed continually. We stood and listened. There was a light fog. Suddenly, I felt a shudder pass over my scalp—like an animal bellowing. Or was I mistaken? Rattling rifle fire! Some bullets whined over us.

  “I’m wounded,” said someone.

  “Where, then?”

  He gripped himself on his chest and pulled a bullet out of his breast bone that was already spent and therefore had not gone any deeper.

  The rifle fire let up, the artillery fire also, and it became very quiet.

  “What was that?” I heard someone mumble.

  We crawled into our holes. I leaned against one of the walls. I couldn’t completely stretch out my legs because someone was lying crossways in front of me.

  “Don’t step in my clock dial!” said someone.[a]

  “Well, if you are going to hold your clock dial on my boots.”

  “Until now my nose had been good for the week.”

  Towards noon I became fully awake. From the entrance, over which a sack hung, some daylight shined inside.

  There were pegs stuck in the mud walls from which bread, sausage, cigars hung.

  “Boy, you all stink!” complained Seidel.

  “And by this cold!”

  I crawled out. Outside the sun was shining on the meadow. We opened up our hutch in order to let some fresh air inside which immediately raised a protest. “Now it’s just beginning to get cozy inside and you let it out again!”

  We breakfasted leisurely in the sun. Then I wrote to Hartmann’s fiancé.

  During the afternoon a couple of shells came roaring over us and slammed into the railroad embankment. Other than that there was nothing to see and nothing to hear. Then the platoon leader came and told us that early today the blacks attacked our neighbor regiment; no
w they were lying dead like a line of riflemen before our position.

  We spent three days in the position. Then we moved to the rear to Chailly and then after three days back into the position. Our dugout became more and more finished with floor boards for the field kettle and nails in the ceiling to hang up bread and sausage so that the rats couldn’t get to them.

  Since our dugout completely blocked the trench we built a detour trench in which the traffic now went. Also construction of a latrine was begun so that one could relieve himself during the day.

  III

  Meanwhile reinforcements had arrived. These were right stately territorial reserve people, for the most part noncommissioned officers and corporals. Naturally I couldn’t remain as squad leader.

  Lieutenant Eger had us all fall in according to height. For that reason Seidel ended up on the far left wing and I, as the tallest, ended up with all territorial reserve people.

  The lieutenant had us fall out without saying anything about how things would be worked out with quarters. The people complained because those who knew each other were separated.

  The sergeant of our company came down the street. I gave him the list of our squad that he had asked for and told him that the lieutenant had mixed us all up.

  “There’s no way that will work!” he said. “The people of the original four companies will be supplied, paid, and everything separately! I can’t go picking people out of all platoons like raspberries! I’m going immediately to the lieutenant.”

  I was glad that the sergeant would tell the lieutenant the truth. But it was no use. A new order assigning quarters was given. I had to move in with the bearded territorial reserve people. They quickly became acquainted with conditions in the trenches and had mutual respect for each other in that the work and guard duty was exactly carried out. In the beginning, I liked that very much. But then slowly the people became very boring to me. They always spoke with serious expressions about their wives. They had all already attained something in life.

  IV

  Then one day the rumor spread that in the rear, there was new support, many officers and volunteers had arrived. We were relieved and marched to the rear to Chailly. On this night it was pretty cool in our room. Two window panes were broken and paper had been installed in their place.

  In the morning I went to fetch water in the open water dish that served us all for washing and shaving. It was somewhat foggy but the sun was already shining warmly.

  I washed myself.

  “The support is coming!” called someone.

  I dried myself hurriedly and went outside. They were in formation in front of the quarters of the regimental commander, in the front, the officers, and the third one was lieutenant Fabian. I was excited, wondering if he would see me. He looked pale, very serious and emaciated.

  The colonel came out of the house, trooped the line, and had them separate into sections. Then the sections separated. Fabian came marching with his people directly toward me.

  “Renn!” he called. “One does meet up with some of the old gang again!” He reached out his hand to me.

  “Will the Herr Leutnant get our company again?”

  “Are you glad about that?”

  “Everyone will be happy, Herr Leutnant!” I called.

  I went to Seidel and told him.

  “Can I not remain in your company?” he asked sadly.

  “How do you mean that?”

  “Now our four companies will be separated again and in my company, I don’t know anyone.”

  “Ask our company sergeant if you can come to us, but quickly; the best chance is during all the disorder of the new assignments!”

  He ran off.

  We assembled in front of our quarters. All but two men of our platoon went to Fabian’s company. And for those two we got a volunteer and Seidel. The volunteer was a fine young man with dark hair and black, worried eyes.

  We had to move again into different quarters. The volunteer appeared not to have been aware that everyone had to search out a place to sleep and was astounded when I made him aware of it. His name was Kaiser. I was too shy to ask what his occupation was. However, certainly he came directly out of school.

  All of a sudden Ziesche walked in.

  “Where did you suddenly come from?” I asked.

  “I was there the whole time, but you had your eye who knows where. I can’t just shoot my rifle in ranks so that you notice me!”

  I took a look at his thumb. He just had a little dent in the tip.

  “How far away from us is the fighting?” asked Kaiser.

  “What?” I couldn’t understand what he was imagining. He was embarrassed.

  “Have you become stupid?” said Ziesche. “You must know where your positions are.”

  “I see. About three kilometers ahead of us. A little ahead of us one should be able to hear shooting.”

  “Oh, you think there is continual shooting? No, there’s nothing to shoot at!” I laughed.

  He looked at me, unbelieving.

  “Really! You don’t see anything but a meadow ahead of you and it is bright when the sun shines and green when it rains. You stand guard and clean the trench and improve the dugout. And during the day four shells come in always at eleven o’clock and always in the same place.”

  Kaiser appeared to be somewhat shocked. I had an evil desire to keep pushing it.

  “Rot!” said Ziesche and pulled me outside. “What has gotten into you?” he said. “You were always such a really good guy.”

  V

  Lieutenant Fabian, to be sure, was a different kind of leader than Eger. He walked around everywhere and inspected the smallest things and was soon healthy and fat again like before.

  He liked to drink wine and schnapps, but other than that he lived very simply with us.

  One night a wall of his dugout broke and fell on him. He crawled out of the rubbish, pulled his blanket out, and lay without saying anything to anybody, in a trench recess that was protected from rain by a sheet of tin but was completely open to the rest of the trench. In the morning when his orderly brought coffee he found the dugout destroyed and dug with the runners for the lieutenant.

  Finally they found him comfortably yawning in his recess.

  “Where shall we build the new dugout, Herr Leutnant?” asked the one runner.

  “I already have one,” he answered lazily.

  The story was told for days and days in the company. The people liked it very much, but they took Fabian too simply. He was an odd mixture of laziness and industry. For him something always had to be happening. In the rear in Chailly there was nothing going on. Then he was dejected and got drunk every night.

  I didn’t like the days of leisure either. The quarters were cramped and drafty. Packs and boots lay everywhere. At our little table everyone washed, ate, and played cards. Had I wanted to read anything I would have had to sit on my bed on the floor. I didn’t have anything to read anyway. Ziesche and Seidel were dull. I had long given up talking with Kaiser. He wanted to become a theologian. However, when I asked him something about it he always said: “I don’t know that yet.”

  I didn’t think about God. At the most I said to myself, maybe He exists. But what do we know about it?

  There were often meetings in the church at Chailly. The minister always preached weakly. He had three or four questions that he presented again and again. I couldn’t suffer any of them. However, by one of them I always became infuriated. Why did God allow the war? Once I listened very carefully to see how he would answer the question. But suddenly it was over and I had heard no answer, only words.

  When I came out of the church I needed a couple of hours to get over my bitterness. I complained to Seidel ruthlessly. He tried to calm me down.

  “You yourself don’t believe in anything!” I screamed.

  “That I don’t know.”

  “For what reasons are we forced to listen when they don’t have anything further to say except ask dumb questions!
”

  I tried to hide these moods from Kaiser because he hung on it and, I thought, honestly.

  In the meantime life continued on very commonplace with shining boots, digging, and standing guard. If one just had a person with whom one could talk!

  VI

  After a couple of frosts it had gotten warm again. The sun shone on this one chalk wall of the trench. I had sat down in the sun and was shaving myself with coffee because we had no water in the trench.

  A little further on Seidel was toasting bread slices, which he had speared with a bayonet over a small fire on a breastwork. He always did this before the sun went down because superiors never came around then. Except maybe our platoon leader and he always had the biggest fire, so therefore he said nothing.

  “What was in your package?” asked Seidel.

  “Cigars and a sausage.”

  “Do I get a little bit of it?”

  A platoon runner came by: “Everybody gather your gear! The squad leaders report to the company sergeant!”

  “What’s up then?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Maybe the war is over?” laughed Seidel.

  I didn’t answer and dried my face.

  Our squad leader returned from the platoon leader. He didn’t look at us. “Tonight we are supposed to take the three-cornered redoubt. When it gets dark we will be relieved by another company moving up.—Renn, you go to the company commander’s dugout to pick up bandages.”

  In front of the dugouts they were rolling their combat packs.

  Where might the three-cornered redoubt be found?

  Lieutenant Fabian was standing in front of his dugout discussing something with his telephone operator.