"I say, Captain, what's your opinion about -?"
"Excuse me a moment," said Captain Sagner, and got out of the carriage.
A quarter of an hour later they started off toward Nagy-Czaba, past the burnt-out villages of Brestov and Great-Radvâny. They could now see that they were getting into the thick of it. The slopes of the Carpathians were scored with trenches, which stretched from valley to valley, and on both sides there were large shell holes. Across the streams flowing into the Lahore, the upper course of which was skirted by the railway, they could see the new bridges which had been built and the charred beams of the old ones. The whole valley had been gouged and scooped out and the trampled state of the ground made it look as if hosts of gigantic moles had been toiling there. At the edges of the shell holes there were tattered shreds of Austrian uniforms which had been uncovered by downpours of rain. Be-
* * *
hind Nagy-Czaba, on a charred old fir tree, in the tangle of the branches, hung the boot of an Austrian infantryman, with a piece of shinbone left in it. The forests without foliage or pine needles, the trees without tops and the isolated farms riddled with shot bore witness to the havoc which had been wrought by the artillery fire.
The train moved slowly forward along embankments which had been newly built, so that the whole battalion was able to feast its eyes on the joys of war, and by scanning the military cemeteries with their white crosses, which formed gleaming patches on the devastated hillsides, they had an opportunity of preparing their minds gradually but surely for the field of glory which terminated with an Austrian military cap, caked with mire and dangling on a white cross.
Mezô-Laborcz was the stopping-place behind a shattered, burnt-out railway station from the sooty walls of which twisted girders projected. A new long timber hut, which had been hastily constructed in place of the burnt station, was covered with placards bearing the inscription : "Subscribe to the Austrian war-loan" in various languages. Another long hut contained a Red Cross centre from which emerged two nurses with a fat doctor, who, for their amusement, imitated various animal noises and made unsuccessful attempts to grunt.
At the bottom of the railway embankment lay a broken field kitchen. Schweik pointed it out to Baloun and said :
"Look at that, Baloun, and see what's in store for us before very long. They were just going to issue the rations when a shell came across and upset the old apple cart."
"This is a shocking business," lamented Baloun. "I never thought anything of that sort was in store for me."
The men were informed that a meal would be served beyond Palota in the Lubka Pass, and the battalion quartermaster-sergeant-major, accompanied by the company cooks and Lieutenant Cajthaml, with four men as a patrol, proceeded into the parish of Meczi. They returned after less than half an hour, with three pigs tied up by their hind legs, the squalling family of a Ruthenian peasant, from whom the pigs had been requisitioned, and the fat military doctor from the Red Cross hut. He was
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vociferously explaining something to Lieutenant Cajthaml who only shrugged his shoulders.
The controversy came to a head in front of the staff carriage, when the military doctor began to tell Captain Sagner in downright terms that the pigs were reserved for the Red Cross hospital, while the peasant flatly contradicted this and demanded that the pigs should be restored to him, as they were his only property and he certainly could not let them go at the price which had been paid him. He thereupon thrust the money which he had received for the pigs into the hand of Captain Sagner, whom the peasant's wife was holding by the other hand ; she was kissing it with the servility which has always been a prominent feature of that region.
Captain Sagner was quite startled, and it was a long time before he managed to shake off the old peasant woman. Not that it mattered, for she was replaced by her younger offspring, who again began to slobber over his hands.
Lieutenant Cajthaml, however, affirmed in very businesslike tones:
"This fellow's got another twelve pigs, and he's been properly paid, according to the latest divisional instructions, No. 12420, economic section. According to paragraph 16 of the instructions, the price paid for pigs in localities unaffected by the war must not exceed 1 crown 3 hellers per pound of live stock, while in localities affected by the war 15 hellers per pound of live stock may be added, making a total of 1 crown 18 hellers per pound. Note further the following: If it is ascertained in localities affected by the war that the supply of hogs which can be used as a source of food supply for the troops passing through the locality in question has remained intact, an extra payment of 7 hellers per pound of live stock is to be made, as in the case of localities unaffected by the war. If the matter is not entirely clear, a commission is to be set up on the spot, comprising the owner of the live stock, the officer commanding the detachment concerned and the officer or quartermaster-sergeant in charge of the commissariat."
Lieutenant Cajthaml read all this from a copy of the divisional orders which he always carried about with him, and he practically knew by heart that in the zone of hostilities the regulation
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price per pound of carrots was increased to 15 1/2 hellers and the price of one pound of cauliflowers for the officers' mess in the same zone was increased to 95 hellers. The gentlemen in Vienna who had drawn up these schedules seemed to imagine that the zone of hostilities was a land flowing with carrots and cauliflowers. But Lieutenant Cajthaml read his piece to the excited peasant in German and then asked him whether he understood it. When the peasant shook his head, he bellowed at him :
"Do you want a commission, then?"
The peasant understood only the word "commission," wherefore he nodded, and while his hogs were dragged off to the field-kitchen for execution, he was surrounded by soldiers with fixed bayonets, who had been detailed for the requisitioning, and the commission proceeded to his farm to ascertain whether he was to get 1 crown 18 hellers per pound or only 1 crown 3 hellers. But scarcely had they set foot on the road leading to the village, than the threefold mortal squealing of hogs could be heard from the field kitchen. The peasant realized that all was up, and shouted desperately in the Ruthenian dialect :
"Give me two guldens for each of them."
Four soldiers edged close to him and the whole family dropped on their knees in the dust in front of Captain Sagner and Lieutenant Cajthaml. The mother and the two daughters clutched at their knees, calling them benefactors, until at last the peasant yelled at them to stand up. He added that the soldiers could eat the pigs if they wanted, and he hoped they'd die of it.
Accordingly, the idea of a commission was dropped, and as the peasant began to shake his fist angrily, each soldier hit him with the butt-end of his rifle, whereupon all the members of the family crossed themselves and took to their heels.
Twenty minutes later the battalion quartermaster-sergeant-major, assisted by Matushitch, the battalion orderly, was smacking his lips over a dish of pig's fry, and while he was gorging himself, he remarked gibingly to the military clerks:
"I bet you wouldn't mind a feed like that. Oh, my lads, that's only for the N. C. O.'s. The livers and lights for the cooks, brains and breast for the quartermaster-sergeant-major, and double rations for the clerks from what the rank-and-file ought to get."
* * *
Captain Sagner had already issued instructions as regards the officers' mess.
"Roast pork with savoury sauce. Pick out the best meat and see it isn't too fat."
And so it came about that when the rank-and-file received their rations in the Lubka Pass, each man discovered two tiny morsels of meat in his soup, and those who had been born under an un-luckier star discovered only a piece of skin.
On the other hand, the clerks' mouths shone greasily and the stretcher bearers puffed with fullness, while all around this divine plenty could be seen the unremoved traces of recent fighting. The whole place was littered with cartridge cases, empty tins, shreds of Russian, Austrian and G
erman uniforms, parts of broken vehicles, long, bloodstained strips of gauze and cotton wool which had been used for bandages.
A shell, which had not burst, had hit an old pine tree near the former railway station, of which only a heap of ruins remained. Fragments of shells were scattered everywhere, and it was evident that corpses of soldiers had been buried in the immediate vicinity, because there was a terrible stench of putrefaction. And on all sides lay lumps of human excrement emanating from all the nations of Austria, Germany and Russia.
A half-smashed cistern, the wooden hut of a railway watchman, and, in fact, everything which had any walls, was riddled like a sieve with rifle bullets.
This spectacle of military delights was rendered even more complete by clouds of smoke which were rising from behind a hill near by, as if a whole village were burning there. This was where they were burning the cholera and dysentery huts, to the great joy of those gentlemen who were concerned with the establishment of a hospital under the patronage of Archduchess Marie, and who had filled their pockets by presenting accounts for nonexistent cholera and dysentery huts. Now one row of huts was being removed for all the rest, and amid the stench of burning paillasses the whole swindle of the archduchess's patronage was rising heavenward.
Behind the railway station on a rock the Germans had already hastened to set up a monument to the fallen Brandenburgers,
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with the inscription : "To the heroes of Lubka Pass," and a huge German eagle, carved in bronze. The base of the monument bore an inscription to the effect that the eagle had been constructed from Russian guns captured during the liberation of the Carpathians by German regiments.
In these queer surroundings the battalion was resting after its meal, while Captain Sagner, with the battalion adjutant, was still unable to make head or tail of the cipher telegram from brigade headquarters, on the subject of the further movements of the battalion. The messages were so muddled that it seemed as though they ought not to have entered the Lubka Pass, but should have proceeded in an entirely different direction from Neustadt, because the telegrams mentioned something about: "Cap-Ungvar; Kis-Béreznai Uzok."
Ten minutes later it turned out that the staff officer at brigade headquarters was a complete nincompoop, because a cipher telegram arrived inquiring whether the 8th draft of the 75th regiment were speaking (military cipher G. 3). The nincompoop at brigade headquarters was astonished by the reply that it was the 7th draft of the 91st regiment, and asked who had given orders to proceed toward Munkacevo, along the military railway line via Stryj, when the proper route was through the Lubka Pass via Sanok into Galicia. The nincompoop was staggered to learn that they were telegraphing from the Lubka Pass, and sent a cipher message : "Route unchanged, via Lubka Pass to Sanok, where further instructions."
When Captain Sagner returned to the staff carriage, a debate ensued on the muddle-headedness of the Austrian authorities, and hints were dropped that if it were not for the Germans, the eastern army group would be entirely at sixes and sevens. Lieutenant Dub thereupon proceeded to defend the Austrian muddle-headedness and came out with some twaddle to the effect that the region in which they had arrived was considerably devastated by the recent hostilities and it had therefore not yet been possible to restore the line to proper working order. All the officers looked at him pityingly, as much as to say : "It's not his fault that he's dotty." Finding that his views met with no contradiction, Lieutenant Dub went on jabbering about the magnificent impression
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which the battered landscape made upon him, for it bore testimony, he said, to the formidable character of our army's iron grip. Again nobody contradicted him, and he added :
"Oh, yes, there can be no doubt that the Russians retreated here in a thorough panic."
Captain Sagner made up his mind that at the first opportunity, when they were having a hot time in the trenches, he would send Lieutenant Dub out on patrol duty into no-man's-land to reconnoitre the enemy positions.
It seemed as if Lieutenant Dub would never stop talking. He went on explaining to all the officers what he had read in the papers about these Carpathian battles and the struggle for the Carpathian passes, during the Austro-German offensive on the San. He talked as if he had not only taken part in these operations, but had directed them himself. At last, Lieutenant Lukash could stand it no longer, and remarked to Lieutenant Dub :
"I suppose you discussed all this with your district chief of police before the war?"
Lieutenant Dub glared at Lieutenant Lukash and went out.
The train was standing on an embankment, and at the bottom of the slope various objects were scattered about, evidently thrown away by the Russian soldiers who had retreated through this cutting. There were rusty tea cans, cartridge pouches, coils of barbed wire and more bloodstained strips of gauze and cotton wool. Above this cutting stood a group of soldiers, and Lieutenant Dub was not slow to perceive Schweik was among them, explaining something to the rest.
Accordingly he went there.
"What's the matter here?" inquired Lieutenant Dub sternly, coming to a standstill right in front of Schweik.
"Beg to report, sir," replied Schweik on behalf of all, "we're having a look."
"Having a look at what?" shouted Lieutenant Dub.
"Beg to report, sir, we're having a look down below into the cutting."
"And who gave you permission to do that?"
"Beg to report, sir, we're carrying out the orders of Colonel Schlager, who was our C. O. at Bruck. When he said good-bye
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to us, when we were leaving for the battle field, as he said in his farewell speech, he said we was to have a good look at the places where there'd been any fighting, so as we could see how the fighting was done, and find out anything that might be useful for us to know. And now we can see in that ditch all the things a soldier has to chuck away when he's doing a bunk. Beg to report, sir, it shows us what a mug's game it is for a soldier to cart all sorts of useless junk about with him. It only loads him up without doing him any good. All it does is to make him tired, and when he's been dragging all that heavy stuff about with him, it stands to reason he can't fight properly."
A ray of hope darted through Lieutenant Dub's mind that at last he'd manage to get Schweik up before a court-martial for anti-militaristic and treasonable propaganda, and so he quickly asked :
"So you think a soldier ought to throw away the cartridges that are lying about in this ditch, or the bayonets that we can see there?"
"Oh, no, sir, beg to report, sir, not at all," replied Schweik with a sweet smile. "But just have a look down there at that tin chamber pot."
And, right enough, at the bottom of the cutting lay defiantly a chamber pot with the enamel all chipped, eaten away with rust, among shards and other objects which, being no longer fit for domestic purposes, had been discarded by the station master, as material for arguments in future centuries by archaeologists who, having unearthed this settlement, would go quite crazy about it, and school children would be taught about the age of enamelled chamber pots.
Lieutenant Dub gazed at the object in question and he was unable to gainsay Schweik's designation of it. He therefore said nothing, and Schweik launched out into a long anecdote in which a similar object played a prominent part. If Lieutenant Dub had followed his personal inclinations, he would have pushed Schweik over the edge, but he overcame this temptation, and interrupting Schweik's narrative, he shouted at the group of soldiers :
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"Don't stand there gaping at me like that. I tell you, you don't know me yet. But wait till you do get to know me !"
And when Schweik was moving away with the others, he bellowed :
"You stay here, Schweik !"
So there they stood, looking at each other, and Lieutenant Dub tried to think of something really terrifying that he could say. But before he had a chance to speak, Schweik remarked :
"Beg to report, sir, I hope this weather'll last. It's
not too hot in the daytime and the nights are quite pleasant. That's the best sort of weather for soldiering."
Lieutenant Dub took out his revolver and asked :
"Do you know what that is?"
"Beg to report, sir, yes, sir. Lieutenant Lukash has got one just like that."
"Then just you remember, my fine fellow," said Lieutenant Dub in solemn and dignified tones, "that something extremely unpleasant will happen to you, if you keep carrying on this propaganda of yours."
And he departed, repeating to himself :
"Yes, that's the best way to put it to him : Propaganda, that's the word I wanted ; propaganda."
Before Schweik got back into his truck, he walked up and down a little longer, muttering to himself:
"Well, I'm blessed if I know what sort of a label ought to be shoved on him."
But before he had finished his stroll, Schweik had devised a suitable designation for Lieutenant Dub: "Bloody old belly-acher."
After which discovery he returned to his truck.
Half an hour later they continued their journey towards Sanok. When they got beyond Szczawna, they again began to see small military cemeteries in the valleys. Below Szczawna there was a stone crucifix with a headless Christ, the head having been shot away during the bombardment of the railway line. The train now began to move at express speed as it pounded along down the valley towards Sanok. The horizon became wider and the number of shattered villages on both sides of the landscape
* * *
increased accordingly. At Kulashna a Red Cross train, smashed to pieces, was lying in a stream at the bottom of the railway embankment from which it had tumbled. The funnel of the engine had got rammed into the embankment and peeped forth from it like the muzzle of a cannon. This sight attracted much attention in the truck where Schweik was. Jurajda, the cook, was particularly indignant.
The Good Soldier Svejk Page 43