KRIEG (War)

by Ludwig Renn

  “No, now everything is all mixed up!” screamed Saenger in order to make himself understood. “I have only two men here!”

  “Bring the others here!” screamed Loessberg.

  “Herr Oberleutnant!” said Haehnel calmly. “It has failed!”

  “Failed doesn’t exist!” screamed Loessberg.

  “Herr Oberleutnant!” said Saenger. “The action was not planned properly.”

  “Move to the rear!” screamed Loessberg and left. There was still heavy firing from both sides.

  Lamm came running. “The battalion commander wants to know how many prisoners have been taken! Things must have progressed so far by now.”

  “Everything failed!”

  He looked at me blankly. “How did that happen?”

  I shouted some of it to him in order to make myself understood. A flare went climbing up, the signal to end the action.

  “The higher headquarters are going to be raging with fury! Everyone all the way up to army commander was set in motion for this undertaking.”

  Lamm walked away.

  The firing ceased. I had two wounded in the platoon from the French barrage.

  VIII

  Toward morning a runner came.

  “Herr Feldwebel should come to see Herr Oberleutnant.”

  I found him hunched over, sitting on a stool. He stood up tiredly.

  “My dear Renn! Is it possible to find people who can make another attempt in the coming night to bring in prisoners?”

  “Will artillery and mine throwers be included again, Herr Oberleutnant?”

  “No, we must try and do it in complete secrecy.”

  “Then I will do the patrol, Herr Oberleutnant. Can I have aerial photographs to use?”

  “My dear Renn, everything you want!”

  My first move was to examine the aerial photographs. They were so sharp that I could even make out the wire barriers. At one bend in the trench toward the front I found a small addition, which from its shape must have been a sentry post. Of course, this sentry post was located at a point of the enemy trench system which was a long way from our system, at least seven hundred meters. However, that had the advantage that they would not expect a blow at that point.

  I went to see Hauffe.

  “I won’t go along unless I am ordered,” he said.

  I went to see Hartenstein.

  “You will never learn!” he said. “For Loessberg, the dog, I won’t lift a finger! But for you I will have to come along. I have another man, Leuschel, who isn’t experienced, but the kid has strength and understanding.”—

  “How have you planned it?”

  “I thought that two men can grab the sentry and haul him out. For that, we three are adequate. And then we need four more men to seal off the trench so that we won’t be surprised. I have a couple of young guys who can do that.”

  After it had become light I observed the French trenches from a trench at an elevated position. The artillery observer officer loaned me his range-finder binoculars. I had to memorize the points in the terrain, namely a bright spot in the ground—why it was brighter I couldn’t see—because of a depression, maybe only a couple of hand widths deep. It led to a corner of the wire barrier. From there we had to move to a point where the barrier appeared to be thin. Then it was only thirty paces to the sentry.

  I slept during the afternoon.

  Shortly before eleven o’clock we started off.

  We were in sweaters, with our socks pulled over our pant legs, with a small pistol and a knife in our pants pockets. Hartenstein and Leuschel appeared big and dangerous.

  We three went ahead. The four smaller men followed with rifles and hand grenades. The moon was shining.

  The ground was frozen hard and the frozen plants crunched at every touch.

  We climbed, one behind the other, through our four strips of wire. There lay a dead Frenchman, probably from the previous spring. He didn’t stink anymore.

  Here in front of the position I told the young men that the terrain had not been reconnoitered and that we had to both reconnoiter and make our grab in one night.

  “The moon will go down in two to three hours. In the meantime we will creep forward very slowly.”

  The moon stood in our faces. Therefore they wouldn’t see us as a silhouette.

  We crept on, then lay down and crawled. We had to halt at the first French barrier. The moon still stood ahead of us. The barrier was too strong to be disturbed without being noticed. Hartenstein crawled to the right and found a ruined spot. We left the others behind and crawled on alone, very slowly and constantly listening. There were steps and voices. By the position of the moon it was around one o’clock. I thought I had seen a movement at one spot, but was not certain. Again there were steps. That must have been the relieved sentry.

  We remained lying until the moon had gone down. Then I crawled back and brought the others through the first wire barrier and then along a second barrier, which led some fifty paces to the rear. The sentry now and then paced up and down and coughed. There was only one man. There was nothing to be seen in the great darkness.

  We crawled very slowly past the sentry and met Hartenstein some twenty paces farther on.

  We turned to the left. I searched for the hole in the wire. This took some one and a half hours. We now had to be careful because of the next relief. We still crawled along the barrier and finally found a spot with only a few wires. There we lay motionless. Two men had been sent to the right to secure the area. The other two didn’t have any particular mission. Therefore they were superfluous. Actually they should secure the area to the left. But in order to give them the assignment and get them set up I would have to crawl back past the sentry with them and then I would have to crawl back forward again. More hours could pass and then we wouldn’t be capable of following through; we were already stiff from the cold.

  There were steps from a number of people in the trench. They were complaining about something. Three voices; there could still be more people. What did they want? They stopped not far to the right of us. Maybe a double sentry was located there. Then we would have to enter the trench between the two sentry posts.

  Again there were steps. There were two people. To the left therefore, there was a double sentry. They went past us.

  Coughing.

  A discussion, this was the relief.

  There were steps of two people, but to the left. Why did they go a different way than they came? Would they be coming back later?

  We lay motionless. I stuck my hands in my pants pockets in order not to become even stiffer. It remained quiet, only a cough once in a while.

  Now they did not come back. Maybe the two of them had to go a ways along the trench and then went back in another trench.

  I punched Hartenstein and Leuschel. Hartenstein arose, we others also.

  First we moved carefully through the wire.

  I ran toward the trench.

  Behind me there was an incident. Someone suddenly laughed out loud.

  I sprang into the trench, Hartenstein and Leuschel close behind. It could only be fifteen steps to the sentry. We ran.

  There was a noise ahead of us.

  Then there was a shot from behind.

  The sentry post was empty, only a hand grenade. The sentry had bolted. That damned laughing!

  I climbed out of the trench toward the left.

  There were two shots from the rear almost simultaneously.

  We ran toward the wire barricade.

  There were two shots from the left.

  Through the wire!

  Behind me someone was whispering miserably.

  I was through the wire and kneeled down.

  A shot!

  Everyone came to me. A flare rose into the air.

  We all threw ourselves down. A number of shots went past. They didn’t see us.

  Again there was a flare. There were two more shots and loud, excited talking. We weren’t yet out of danger. They could cut u
s off at the forward barricade. However, that would be an advantage for us. Then we could thrust with our seven men in the direction of our own trenches.

  The flare died out. We crawled toward the forward wire entanglement. One of the men came to me.

  “Lesche has a leg wound.”

  “Can he go on?”

  “Yes.”

  We came unhindered through the forward barricade and continued on walking upright. Lesche limped. I noticed only now just how frozen I was.

  “I will never go on another patrol with such young guys, who can’t control themselves!” snarled Hartenstein.

  Trepte was standing before our most forward trench.

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing—just one wounded.—Go into your bunkers! I have to go to the Herr Oberleutnant.”

  Loessberg was sleeping and was awakened. I reported.

  “That was the last hope,” he said. “It can’t be helped. Tomorrow we will be relieved.”

  IX

  On the next night we were relieved and marched to the encampment. I was very tired.

  On the following morning we assembled in front of the barracks in readiness to march. The people from the failed large-scale patrol had not yet arrived from Menicourt where they had been sent after the operation.

  “Unbelievable!” said Loessberg. “They should have already been here a half hour ago!—However, when they don’t need one anymore they just leave him hanging!—Feldwebel, did you send the message that I do not wish to see Lieutenant Lindner?”

  “Jawohl, Herr Oberleutnant.”

  Loessberg had long since given us his farewell address. We stood and waited for the people from the patrol. The grass between the fir trees was trampled flat. The wagon tracks and boot impressions were frozen with a hard crust.

  Saenger came around the edge of the woods, his collar open and his rifle hanging excessively behind. The others came into view. Everyone shuffled along as he pleased. One had his helmet on his head; the next had it in his hand.

  I had never seen my people so. That had to be deliberate.

  “Can you not lead your men in an orderly fashion when your company commander wants to take leave of you, Unteroffizier Saenger?”

  “The Lindner patrol without Herr Leutnant Lindner present!” reported Saenger.

  Loessberg looked at him, speechless.

  “I had you brought here,” screamed Loessberg, trembling with rage, “in order to take my leave from you! I reasoned that you would assemble the way you learned it from me!” Loessberg suddenly pulled himself together. “I know you are not to blame for the failure. A good leader accomplishes everything. A sharp person can ask the impossible, a coward, nothing!—Your leader, who isn’t here today, was not the best choice; else today we would have prisoners, decorations, and honor. Cowardice ruined everything!”

  Loessberg rode off. There was murmuring in the company.

  “Yeah,” I heard a still young voice say, “Leutnant Lindner is responsible.”

  “Keep your mouth shut, when you don’t understand anything!” said Saenger. “Who is a coward and slinks away from the offensive?”

  “Quiet there!” said the company Feldwebel. “Company, attention!”

  He reported to the Battalion Commander, who had ridden up with Lamm.

  “Where is Herr Oberleutnant Loessberg?”

  “He just rode off, Herr Major.”

  “Did you not pass along the message to him that I wanted to take my leave from him here?”

  “Jawohl, Herr Major, and I just reminded the Herr Oberleutnant of it.”

  The major turned his head to Lamm, spoke somewhat softly with him, turned his horse, and with lips pressed together, rode away.

  “Third company!” called Lamm. “I am again taking over my company! I hope that you are as happy about that as I am!”

  We moved out. The company was delighted because we had Lamm as our commander again. After a march of several hours we came to the train station where we were to be entrained.

  Lamm took me to the side and wanted to tell me something, just as Lindner came rushing up.

  “Excuse me!” he said to Lamm. “Can I speak with Renn?—Is it true that the Oberleutnant called me a coward?”

  “Yes.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Herr Leutnant, speak with our new company commander.”

  Lindner went to Lamm. Together they went to the Major. Lamm came back. He was in a thoughtful mood.

  Now he understood why I had hated Loessberg so.

  The train arrived and we climbed aboard.

  The March Offensive 1918

  Toward evening we halted in a wooded valley, climbed out, and marched to the next village. We remained there two days. It was told to us that we would march from here to the assembly area for our offensive during the nights so that the enemy fliers would not notice the coming together of such a mass of troops.

  The sudden end of all discipline as the patrol people arrived marching in disorder had put me in a thoughtful mood. And how impudently Saenger had answered the Oberleutnant after the failure of the undertaking! I considered a mutiny in the German army to be impossible, but what had happened then bordered on mutiny. The great spring offensive had to end the war. Otherwise—? The war could not become a permanent situation. At some time the people would have to learn to get along again.

  ——————————

  We marched night after night and lay quietly during the day. One did not sleep much. And the marching, in the narrow columns without being able to see anything, was very fatiguing.

  We had, in the company, a man from the Hartz mountain region, an already older, ugly man. When the company was tired, he began to sing. Lamm allowed it because he would fall out of the column and walk next to the company. He made up little verses in his singing and the company had to sing the answering rhyme:

  “And when the cuckoo calls,

  Everything will be good again,

  Everything, Everything, Everything will be

  good again.”

  They sang it with spirit. The song leader didn’t have it easy; because whenever we met a wagon, he would have to disappear behind the company and then walk back up again.

  There was something special in his verses. They were never common and he always came up with new ones, and a number of them were just suited to our state of mind. I would have liked to get to know him better, but he wasn’t a person one could get to know. His face was always evenly dark, neither serious nor cheerful, and he bothered with no one except the little group he belonged to.

  II

  We arrived in a large village in the Picardy region. Here we stayed and exercised.

  Two of my people had cut the soles from their lace shoes and sent them home because there was no more leather there. I reported it to Lamm. He ordered an inspection of all the shoes. In the other platoons where there were older men and fathers of families, a lot more was missing.

  Some of the men said quite openly, they wouldn’t allow themselves to be shot into cripples; at the right time they would just disappear.

  I found that Unteroffizier Saenger, against whom I harbored some mistrust since the patrol, was harmless. He was just somewhat uncontrolled when something upset him.

  Hartenstein had befriended Besser, a small, agile man of some thirty years of age. Besser was a waiter and had been in all countries of Europe except Russia, and I was sorry for that because I always wanted to hear something about that country. Especially since it appeared to me to be so secretive, especially now since the Bolshevik revolution. Besser always talked about the senseless war and how one simply should go on strike and not participate.

  I asked Hartenstein once: “Just why do you associate with him?”

  Hartenstein laughed. “Because he is the best person in the world. He only talks that way, but when it comes down to it you should see how he joins in!”

  However, to me also, the war became ever more questionable.r />
  III

  We marched away one night and came to an industrial center. The troops ahead of us were just leaving their quarters. We moved in and slept.

  We remained the day and next night there and learned nothing further, only that temporarily we were the army reserve.

  On the following morning, while it was still dark, the order to march came.

  Lamm came mounted.

  “The first attack was successful. The first and second English trenches are in our hands. Today the third trench will be attacked. According to aerial photographs it is only knee deep.”

  We marched off. It was another cloudy morning.

  We moved ever closer to the thunder of cannons. Far ahead of us three captive balloons hung in the sky. They would move closer together and then away from each other and we didn’t come any closer to them. That was a sign that they were marching up ahead.

  To the right and left of the road, wagon columns halted in ever greater numbers. An open truck overtook us.

  “Man, look at the shells!”

  There were four shells on the truck and they hung over on both sides.

  We halted. To the left at some distance it swarmed black with people. Every now and then there was an explosion over there. Those were the guns from which the giant shells were being shot.

  We stayed the day and the night here and set up tents. I had a map of the French front. We were attacking forward from St. Quentin. Was it our goal to break through to Amiens and separate the French from the English? Would that end the war? It had to be ended.

  On the next day we arrived in the area of the cleared positions, a wide, barren plain with trenches.

  Earlier one had crouched in the trenches, but today we marched above on the road and looked down into them.

  We crossed the wire barriers—here were the holes for the listening posts—and drew closer to the English position. Work was under way to restore the road. We marched slowly and with congestion and interruptions.

  The sun went down. We arrived in the English position. Two dead were lying in a ditch.