Baloun could restrain himself no longer. He began to blubber.
"Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Schweik, contemptuously. "Call yourself a soldier?"
"I was never meant to be in the army," lamented Baloun. "I know I'm always thinking about food and I can never get enough of it, but that's because I've been dragged away from the life I'm used to. And it runs in our family, too. My father, he's dead now, but he once made a bet that he'd eat fifty sausages at a sitting and two loaves of bread, and he won his bet. I once made a bet I'd eat four geese and two plates of dumplings with cabbage."
"Well," said Schweik, "you've been tied up once, and now you deserve to be sent to the front line. When I was doing your job as orderly to the lieutenant, he could rely on me in everything, and I'd never have dreamed of eating anything that belonged to him. When something special was served out, he'd always say to me: 'Schweik,' he said, 'keep it for yourself,' or: 'Oh, I don't
* * *
fancy that particularly ; let me have just a scrap of it and do what you like with the rest.' And when we was in Prague and he used to send me sometimes to fetch his lunch from a restaurant, so as he shouldn't think he'd got a small helping because I'd eaten half of it on the way, when I thought the helping was too small, I bought an extra helping with my own money, so as he could have a proper feed and not think any harm of me. Till one day, he spotted what I'd been up to. It was like this : I always had to bring him the bill of fare from the restaurant and then he chose what he wanted. Well, that particular day he chose some stuffed pigeon. Now when I saw they gave me only half a bird, I thought he might think I'd eaten the other half on the way, so I bought an extra portion with my own money and brought him such a grand helping that Lieutenant Seba, who'd been nosing round after some lunch that day, and had just come to pay my lieutenant a call, was able to have a feed of it as well. But when he'd finished, he says: 'Don't tell me that's a single portion. Why, there isn't a restaurant on earth where you can get a whole stuffed pigeon on the bill of fare. If I can scrape together some money to-day, I'm going to send out to that restaurant of yours for some lunch. Now own up ; that's a double portion, isn't it?' Well, the lieutenant asked me to bear him out that he'd only given me enough money for a single portion, because he didn't know that Lieutenant Seba was coming. So I said he'd only given me enough money for a single lunch. 'There you are,' says my lieutenant. 'And this ain't nothing,' he says. 'Why, the other day Schweik brought me two legs of goose for lunch. Just imagine Vermicelli soup, beef with horse-radish sauce, two legs of goose, dumplings and piles of cabbage and pancakes.' "
"Holy Moses !" exclaimed Baloun, and smacked his lips loudly.
Schweik continued :
"Well, that was the cause of the trouble. Next day Lieutenant Seba sends his batman to fetch his lunch from our restaurant, and he brings him a tiny little dollop of chicken and rice, about as much as you could hold in the palm of your hand, just enough for two spoonfuls. So Lieutenant Seba went for him and said he'd eaten half of it. And he said he hadn't. So then Lieutenant Seba gave him a smack across the jaw and told him how
* * *
much grub I was fetching for Lieutenant Lukash. Well, next day, when this chap who'd had a smack in the jaw for nothing went to the restaurant to fetch some lunch, he found out what I'd been doing, and told his boss and he told my lieutenant. So in the evening I was sitting having a read of the newspaper, all about the reports of the enemy staffs from the front, when my lieutenant comes in, as white as a sheet he was, and asks me point-blank how many of those double portions. I'd paid for out of my own pocket, and he said he knew all about it and it wasn't any use for me to deny it and he'd always thought I was a jackass but he'd never supposed I was as dotty as all that. He said I'd disgraced him so much that he felt like first blowing my brains out and then his own. 'Well, sir,' I says to him, 'the first day I came to you, you said that every batman was a crook and a rotter. And they was giving such small portions in that restaurant, that you'd be bound to think that I was rotter enough to sneak your grub.' "
"Lord help us !" murmured Baloun, and bent down toward the lieutenant's box, which he took into the background.
"Then," continued Schweik, "Lieutenant Lukash began to search in all his pockets, but he couldn't find anything, so he fetches out his silver watch and gives it to me. He was quite overcome, as you might say. 'Look here, Schweik,' he said, 'when I draw my pay I want you to write down how much I owe you. You can keep this watch as an extra. And another time, don't be a bloody fool,' he says. But after that we was both of us so desperate hard-up that I had to take that watch to the pawnshop."
"What are you up to, at the back there, Baloun?" inquired Quartermaster-sergeant Vanek.
Instead of giving any reply, the luckless Baloun hiccoughed. For he had opened Lieutenant Lukash's box and was gobbling up his last roll.
Shortly before this, a very tense conversation was taking place between Captain Sagner and Cadet Biegler.
"I'm surprised at you, Biegler," said Captain Sagner. "Why didn't you come and report to me immediately that those five
* * *
ounces of Hungarian salami were not being issued? I had to go out personally and ascertain why the men were coming back from the store. And the officers, too, as if orders were so much empty talk. What I said was : 'To the stores by companies, one platoon at a time.' That meant, that if no rations were served out, the men were to come back to the train one squad at a time as well. I told you to keep proper order, but you just let things slide. I suppose the fact is you were glad you didn't have to worry your head about counting out the rations of salami."
"Beg to report, sir, that instead of salami, the men received two picture postcards each."
And Cadet Biegler presented the battalion commander with two specimens of these postcards, which had been issued by the War Records Department in Vienna, at the head of which was General Wojnowich. On one side was a caricature of a Russian soldier, a Russian peasant with a shaggy beard who was being embraced by a skeleton. Underneath were the words :
The day upon which perfidious Russia is snuffed out will be a day of relief for our whole Monarchy.
The other postcard emanated from the German Empire. It was a gift from the Germans to the Austro-Hungarian warriors. On top was the motto "Viribus unitis" and underneath it a picture of Sir Edward Grey hanging on a gallows, with an Austrian and a German soldier blithely at the salute below. This was accompanied by a poem from Greinz's book The Iron Fist. The witticisms were described by the German papers as being so many strokes from a lash, full of rollicking humour and irrepressible wit. This particular stroke from a lash was as follows :
Grey. The gallows should on high display Dangling now Sir Edward Grey. It should have happened long ago; Why did it not, then? You must know That every single tree refused As gallows for this Judas to be used.
* * *
Scarcely had Captain Sagner finished perusing this specimen of "rollicking humour and irrepressible wit" than battalion orderly Matushitch dashed into the staff carriage. He had been sent by Captain Sagner to the telegraph headquarters of the railway transport command to ask whether there had been any change of instructions, and had brought a telegram from the brigade. But there was no need to decode it. The telegram ran, au clair: "Quickly finish cooking then advance toward Sokal." Captain Sagner shook his head in perplexity.
"Beg to report, sir," said Matushitch, "the railway transport officer wants to see you. He's got another telegram there."
A conversation of a very confidential character then ensued between the railway transport officer and Captain Sagner.
The first telegram had to be delivered, in spite of the surprising message it contained. It was addressed au clair to the draft of the 91st regiment, with a copy for the draft of the 75th regiment, which was still further behind them. The signature was in order : Ritter von Herbert.
"This is a very confidential matter, sir," said the transport office
r mysteriously. "A secret telegram from your division. Your brigade commander's gone mad. They took him off to Vienna after he'd been sending out dozens of telegrams like that from the brigade all over the place. You're pretty certain to find another telegram when you get to Budapest. Of course, all his telegrams'll have to be cancelled, although we haven't received any instructions on that point yet."
Captain Sagner began to feel very uncomfortable.
"When does the train leave?" he asked.
The railway transport officer looked at his watch.
"In six minutes," he replied.
"Very well, then. I must be off," said Captain Sagner.
He returned to the staff carriage, where all the officers, except Cadet Biegler, were playing cards. Cadet Biegler was rummaging among a pile of manuscripts which he had started, all dealing with various aspects of the war. For he had ambitions to distinguish himself, not only on the battle field, but also as a literary wizard. His literary efforts had promising titles, but he had got no further with them. They included the following :
* * *
Character of the Troops in the Great War; Who Began the War?; The Policy of Austria-Hungary and the Birth of the Great War; Observations on War; Popular Lecture on the Outbreak of the Great War; Reflections on Politics and War; Austria-Hungary's Day of Glory; Slavonic Imperialism and the Great War; War Documents; Documents Bearing on the History of the Great War; Diary of the Great War; Daily Survey of the Great War; Our Dynasty in the Great War; The Nations of the Austro- Hungarian Monarchy in Arms; My Experiences in the Great War; Chronicle of My War Campaign; How Austria-Hungary's Enemies Wage War; Whose Is the Victory?; Our Officers and Our Men; Noteworthy Deeds of My Soldiers; Prom the Epoch of the Great War; On the Battle Tumult; Book of Austro-Hungarian Heroes; The Iron Brigade; Collection of My Letters from the Front; Handbook for Troops in the Field; Days of Struggle and Days of Victory; What I Saw and Experienced in the Field; In the Trenches; The Officer Tells His Story; Enemy Aeroplanes and Our Infantry; After the Battle; Our Artillery, Faithful Sons of Our Country; And Even Though All Demons Ranged Themselves Against Us; War, Defensive and Offensive; Blood and Iron; Victory or Death; Our Heroes in Captivity.
Captain Sagner inspected all these things, and asked Cadet Biegler what he thought he was up to. Cadet Biegler replied with genuine gusto that each of these titles denoted a book which he was going to write. So many titles, so many books.
"If I should get killed at the front, sir," he said, "I should like to leave some sort of memorial behind me. In this I am inspired by the example of the German professor, Udo Kraft. He was born in 1870, but volunteered for the army and was killed on August 22, 1914, at Anley. Before his death he published a book called How to Die for the Kaiser! A Course of Self-training."
Captain Sagner led Cadet Biegler to the window.
"Let's see what else you've got. Your doings interest me enormously," he said with a touch of irony. "What's that notebook you're hiding under your tunic?"
* * *
"That's nothing," replied Cadet Biegler, blushing like a girl. "You can see for yourself, sir."
The notebook bore the following label :
CONSPECTUS OF GREAT AND FAMOUS BATTLES
Fought by the Austro-Hungarian Army.
Compiled from Historical Records by Adolf Biegler,
Officer in the Imperial Royal Army. With Notes and Comments.
By adolph biegler, Officer in the Imperial Royal Army.
The conspectus was extremely simple.
From the Battle of Nôrdlingen on September 6, 1634, by way of the Battles of Zenta on September 11, 1697, Caldiera on October 31, 1805, Aspern on May 22, 1809, Leipzig in 1813, Santa Lucia in May, 1848, Trantenau on June 27, 1866, to the capture of Sarajevo on August 19, 1878. The diagrams of these battles were all alike. In each case Cadet Biegler had drawn plain rectangles on one side to represent Austro-Hungarian troops and dotted rectangles to represent the enemy. Both sides had a left wing, a centre and a right wing. Then at the back there were reserves, while arrows darted to and fro. The Battle of Nôrdlingen, just like the capture of Sarajevo, looked like the arrangement of the players at the start of a football match and the arrows showed which way each side was to kick the ball. This idea immediately occurred to Captain Sagner, and he asked :
"Do you play football?"
Cadet Biegler blushed still more and blinked nervously, so that it looked as if he were trying to keep back his tears.
Captain Sagner, with a smile, continued to peruse the notebook and paused at the comment on the diagram representing the Battle of Trantenau during the war between Prussia and Austria. Cadet Biegler had written:
The battle of Trantenau ought not to have been fought, because the mountainous character of the terrain made it impossible for General Mazzucheli to extend the division menaced by the strong Prussian columns on the elevated areas surrounding the left wing of our division.
* * *
"According to you," said Captain Sagner, with a smile, returning the notebook to Cadet Biegler, "the battle of Trantenau could only have been fought if Trantenau were in a plain. It's very nice of you, Cadet Biegler, to try and get a grip of military strategy when you've been so short a time in the army. You remind me of a lot of kids playing at soldiers and calling each other General. Really, it's a real treat to see the way you've given yourself such rapid promotion. 'Adolf Biegler, Officer in the Imperial Royal Army' ! Why, at that rate, you'll be a field-marshal by the time we get to Budapest. The day before yesterday you were at home weighing cow hides in your father's shop. And now you're Adolf Biegler, Lieutenant in the Imperial Royal Army. Why, man alive, you're not an officer yet. You're a cadet. You're just floating in the air between the ranks of ensign and the N. C. O.'s. You're about as much entitled to call yourself an officer as a lance-corporal sitting in a pub would be to let people call him a staff sergeant-major."
Cadet Biegler, seeing that the conversation was at an end, saluted and, very red in the face, passed through the carriage to the corridor at the very end. He entered the lavatory, where he began to sob quietly. Later, he wiped his eyes and stalked out into the corridor, telling himself that he must be strong, damned stroną. But he had a headache and he felt altogether out of sorts.
He passed through the last compartment when Matushitch, battalion orderly, was playing "sixty-six" with Batzer, orderly of the battalion commander.
He coughed as he went by. They turned round and went on playing.
"Don't you know what you ought to do?" asked Cadet Biegler sternly.
"Couldn't manage it," replied Batzer in the terrible dialect of German, as spoken on the frontiers of Bavaria and Bohemia. "Hadn't got any trumps left.
"I ought to have played clubs," he continued, "high clubs, and then come out with the king of diamonds. That's what I ought to have done."
Cadet Biegler said no more, but lay down in his corner. When,
* * *
later on, Ensign Pleschner came to give him a drink from a bottle of brandy, he was surprised to find Cadet Biegler engrossed in Professor Urdo Kraft's volume, How to Die for the Kaiser! A Course of Self-training.
Before they reached Budapest, Cadet Biegler was so tipsy that he leaned out of the carriage window and kept shouting to the deserted landscape :
"Get a move on! For God's sake, get a move!"
Later, at Captain Sagner's orders, Matushitch and Batzer laid Cadet Biegler to rest on a seat, where he dreamed that he had the iron cross with bars, that he'd been mentioned in dispatches, and that he was a major who was proceeding to inspect a brigade. It puzzled him why it was that though he was in charge of a whole brigade, he was still major. He suspected that he ought to have been appointed major-general, and that the "general" had somehow got lost in the post. Then he was in a motor car which, as the result of an explosion, reached the gates of heaven, for which the password was "God and Kaiser." He was admitted to the presence of God, who turned out to be none other than Captain Sagner
who was accusing him of masquerading as a major-general. Then he floundered into a new dream. He was defending Linz during the War of the Austrian Succession. There were redoubts and palisades and Lieutenant Lukash dying at his feet. Lieutenant Lukash was saying something very pathetic and complimentary to him when he felt a bullet strike him so that he could no longer sit on his horse. He fell through space and landed on the floor of the railway carriage.
Batzer and Matushitch lifted him up and put him back on his seat. Then Matushitch went to Captain Sagner and reported that strange things had been happening to Cadet Biegler.
"I don't think it's the brandy that's upset him," he said. "It's more likely to be cholera. He's been drinking water at all the railway stations. I saw him at Mozony -"
"Cholera doesn't come on as quickly as all that. Go and ask the doctor to have a look at him."
The doctor who was attached to the battalion was a "war doctor" named Welfer. He had studied medicine at various universities of Austria-Hungary, and had walked all kinds of hos-
* * *
pitals, but he had never taken his degree for the simple reason that there was a clause in his uncle's will by which a fixed annual amount was to be paid by the remaining heirs to Friedrich Welfer, medical student, until the said Friedrich Welfer received his doctor's diploma. As the fixed annual amount was about four times greater than the pay of a house physician, Friedrich Welfer, medical student, exerted himself honestly to stave off, to as remote a period as possible, the award of a medical diploma.
But when the war broke out, it dealt Friedrich Welfer a treacherous blow from behind. He was taken by the scruff of his neck and shoved into the army, whereupon one of the heirs, who was in the War Office, arranged for the worthy Friedrich Welfer to be awarded a war-doctor's degree. This was done in writing. He received a number of questions to answer, and he answered them all with the stereotyped formula "rats." Three days later he was informed that he had been awarded a doctor's diploma. He was detailed to a military hospital, and with a bad grace he went. After a while it was discovered that he treated military patients with extreme indulgence, keeping them in hospital as long as possible. His principle was : "What's it matter if they stay in hospital or get killed in the trenches? May as well let 'em die in hospital as in the fighting line."
The Good Soldier Svejk Page 38