The Good Soldier Svejk

by Jaroslav Hasek

  who brazenly denied that they had any lieutenant among the visitors, whereupon Schweik thrust her aside and proceeded with dignified tread to mount the wooden staircase to the second floor. This caused the polyglot matron to set up a terrific hullabaloo, as a result of which, the proprietor of the establishment, an impoverished Polish aristocrat, appeared on the scene, rushed upstairs after Schweik and tugged at his tunic, shouting to him in German that only officers were allowed on the second floor, and that the place for private soldiers was down below. Schweik pointed out to him that he was paying a visit there in the interests of the whole army, and that he was looking for a lieutenant without whom the army could not proceed to the front. When the proprietor began to show signs of more obstreperous tactics, Schweik pushed him downstairs and went on his way to inspect the premises.

  He discovered that all the rooms were empty, until he reached a door at the very end of the passage. In reply to his knock, he heard, first of all, Miss Ella's voice raised in squeaky protest, followed by the gruff voice of Lieutenant Dub, who, perhaps imagining that he was still in his quarters in camp, spluttered, "Come in!"

  Schweik went in, went up to the sofa and handing Lieutenant Dub the leaf torn from the notebook of Lieutenant Lukash, he said, with a sideway glance at the articles of clothing scattered about in a corner :

  "Beg to report, sir, you've got to get dressed and come at once along with me, like it says in these here orders I'm handing to you, back to the place where we're quartered, because there's going to be an important meeting there."

  Lieutenant Dub goggled his eyes at Schweik, whom, through alcoholic mists, he just managed to recognize. He imagined that Schweik had been sent up before him in the orderly room and accordingly he said :

  "All right, Schweik, I'll settle—settle—settle—up—with— with—you—in a—jiff—jiff—jiffy. I'll sh-sh-show—you— what's—coming—to—you -"

  And then, turning to Miss Ella, he shouted :

  "Kunert, another—little—drink—for—me."

  * * *

  He had his little drink and then, tearing up the paper containing the message, he laughed heartily.

  "Is—that—a—note—of—excuse?" he babbled on merrily. "We—don't—accept—them—here. We're—in—the—army— now—and—not—at—school. Schweik—step—two—paces forward—in—what—year—did—Philip—of—Macedon—defeat —the—Romans? What's—that? You—don't—know—you— thickheaded dunce, you?"

  "Beg to report, sir," continued Schweik relentlessly, "this is brigade orders, sir, and all the officers have got to get dressed and go to the battalion Besprechung. You see, sir, we're starting a big push, and they've just got to decide which company's going to be the advance guard and which the rear guard, and who's to be on the flank, and all that. That's what they've got to decide, sir, and it strikes me, sir, you ought to have something to say about it."

  This diplomatic speech somewhat cleared Lieutenant Dub's mind, and he now began to perceive dimly that he was not in barracks. With some show of caution he asked :

  "Where am I?"

  Schweik coughed.

  "Beg to report, sir, you're in a brothel. It takes all sorts to make a world, sir."

  Lieutenant Dub sighed deeply, slipped down from the sofa and began to hunt for his uniform. In this process he received assistance from Schweik, and when at last he was dressed, they went forth together. Before they emerged into the outer world again, however, Schweik returned, and ignoring Miss Ella, who quite misinterpreted the reason for his reappearance, rapidly finished what was left of the bottle of gin, and then joined Lieutenant Dub once more.

  In the street the sultry state of the atmosphere caused Lieutenant Dub to lapse anew into befuddlement. He began to talk to Schweik completely at random, explaining to him that at home he had a pillar box from Heligoland, and that as soon as he had passed his matriculation he had gone to play billiards, and had not raised his cap to his form master. And after each remark he inquired: "See what I mean?"

  * * *

  "Of course I see what you mean, sir," replied Schweik. "The way you talk, sir, is just like a tinker I used to know, Pokorny his name was. If anyone asked him : 'Have you ate any mushrooms this year?' he'd say, 'No, but I hear the new Sultan of Morocco's a fine fellow.' "

  Lieutenant Dub came to a standstill and blurted out :

  "Sultan of Morocco? He's a back number."

  Whereupon he wiped the sweat from his forehead and staring at Schweik with a glazed expression in his eyes, he muttered:

  "I've never sweated like this, even in winter. See what I mean?"

  "Not half I don't, sir. There was an old gentleman who was a regular customer at The Flagon, he used to be on the county council, or something, but they'd pensioned him off, and he said exactly the same thing. He always said he was surprised how much warmer it was in summer than in winter, and he couldn't make out why nobody had looked into it."

  At the entrance to the grammar school, Schweik left Lieutenant Dub, who reeled upstairs into the conference room, where he immediately reported to Captain Sagner that he was quite drunk. Throughout the proceedings he sat there with bowed head, but during the debate he stood up every now and then, and shouted :

  "Your opinions are quite correct, gentlemen, but I'm quite drunk."

  When all the arrangements had been made for Lieutenant Lukash's company to form the advance guard, Lieutenant Dub gave a sudden jerk, stood up and said :

  "I wonder whether you gentlemen remember our old form master? Three cheers for our old form master! Hip, hip, hurray!"

  It occurred to Lieutenant Lukash that the best thing to do would be to get Kunert, Lieutenant Dub's orderly, to put him into the physics laboratory, at the door of which a sentry was posted, probably to prevent anyone from stealing the rest of the collection of minerals which were in a glass case, and half of which had already been pilfered. Brigade headquarters impressed the need for this upon all detachments which were quartered

  * * *

  there. This precaution dated from the time when a battalion of Hungarian militiamen had begun to help themselves to the specimens in the glass case. They took a particular fancy to the collection of crystals and quartz which they slipped into their haversacks. And one of the white crosses in the military cemetery bore the inscription : "Laszlo Gargany," this being the name of the Hungarian militiaman who was sleeping his eternal sleep there. During one of the inroads upon the collection of minerals he had drunk up all the methylated spirits from a receptacle containing a number of preserved reptiles.

  When all the other officers had gone, Lieutenant Lukash sent for Kunert, who carried Lieutenant Dub out and deposited him on a sofa. Lieutenant Dub suddenly became quite boyish. He caught hold of Kunert's hand, began to examine the palm of it, saying that from the lines of the palm of Kunert's hand he could read the name of Kunert's future wife.

  "What's your name? Take a notebook and a pencil out of the breastpocket of my tunic. So your name's Kunert? All right; come back here in a quarter of an hour, and I'll give you a piece of paper with the name of your future wife on it."

  Scarcely had he said this, than he began to snore, but he soon woke up again and started scrawling in his notebook. He tore out what he had written, threw it on the floor and mysteriously putting his finger to his lips, he said in a fatuous voice :

  "Not yet, not for another quarter of an hour. You'd better look for the paper blindfold."

  Kunert was such a good-natured fellow that he actually came back a quarter of an hour later, and when he undid the piece of paper, he read there, in Lieutenant Dub's scribble :

  "The name of your future wife will be Mrs. Kunert."

  When, a little later, he showed this to Schweik, he told him to take great care of the piece of paper, because such keepsakes from big military men were very valuable. In the old days it wasn't like that. Officers never used to correspond with their orderlies and call them "sir."

  When preparations had been c
ompleted for the advance to begin in accordance with the official plans, the brigade general,

  * * *

  the same one who had been so neatly ousted from his quarters by the Hanoverian colonel, had the whole battalion drawn up in the customary square formation, and delivered a speech to them. This man, who was very fond of orating, went on talking about anything that came into his head, and when his stock of ideas was exhausted, he suddenly remembered the field post.

  "Soldiers," he thundered forth, "we are now approaching the enemy front, from which we are separated by only a few days' march. Hitherto, soldiers, being constantly on the move, you have had no opportunity of sending your addresses to those who are near and dear to you, so that you could have the pleasure of receiving letters from those you left behind you."

  He seemed unable to extricate himself from this train of thought, and he kept on repeating such phrases as : "Those near and dear to you," "The ones you left behind you," "Sweethearts and wives," etc. And anyone who heard his speech might have supposed that all these men in drab uniforms were to proceed with the utmost readiness to the slaughter simply and solely because a field post had been organized at the front, and that if a soldier had both his legs blown off by a shell, he was sure to die happy when he remembered that his field post was No. 72 and that perhaps a letter was awaiting him there from those he had left behind him, possibly together with a parcel containing a piece of salt beef, some bacon and a few home-made cakes.

  After the general's speech, the brigade band played the national anthem, there were three cheers for the Emperor, and then the various detachments of this herd of human cattle, destined for the shambles somewhere beyond the River Bug, set out successively on the march, in accordance with the instructions which had been received.

  The nth company started at 5 '.30 in the direction of Turowa Wolska. Schweik toddled along right at the back with the ambulance section, while Lieutenant Lukash rode up and down the column, frequently inspecting the ambulance section at the rear, in order to ascertain whether there was any improvement in the condition of Lieutenant Dub, who was being conveyed in a small cart, covered with tarpaulin, to fresh exploits in an unknown future. Lieutenant Lukash also relieved the monotony of the

  * * *

  march every now and then by exchanging a few words with Schweik, who, stolidly shouldering his haversack and rifle, was telling Quartermaster-sergeant Vanek about how many years before he had been on a fine route march during the manœuvres at Velké Mezirici. After a while he began to trot sturdily along in step with Lieutenant Lukash's horse and started talking about the field post.

  "That was a nice speech we heard and no mistake, and it must be a treat for everyone to get a nice letter from home when he's away at the front. When I was doing my service, years and years ago, I once got a letter sent to me in barracks, and I've still got it on me."

  From a grimy pocketbook Schweik extracted a grease-stained letter, and still keeping in step with Lieutenant Lukash's horse, which had broken into a gentle trot, he read :

  "You rotten blighter, you dirty, low-down crook. Corporal Kriz went to Prague on leave, and he told me you've been dancing with some boss-eyed little slut and that you've given me the push. All right then, we're through with each other. Bożena. And let me tell you that corporal is a regular sport, and he won't half lay you out. I asked him to. And let me tell you that when you come back on leave you won't find me in the land of the living."

  "Of course," explained Schweik, keeping in step with the gentle trotting of the horse, "when I did come back on leave, I found her in the land of the living all right. Not half I didn't. There she was in a pub with a couple of soldiers, and one of 'em was so much in the land of the living that he was putting his hand under her bodice, as if he wanted, beg to report, sir, to pluck the bloom of her virginity, as they say."

  "Well, Schweik, there's no getting away from it, you always manage to hit the nail on the head," said Lieutenant Lukash, and rode forward to the other end of the column. The men were now beginning to straggle, because after their long rest in the train the march in full equipment was making their limbs ache, and they eased themselves as best they could. They kept shifting their rifles from one side to the other and most of them went plodding along with bowed heads. They were all suffering from great thirst

  * * *

  because, although the sun had already gone down, it was as sultry as in the middle of the day, and by now their water bottles were all quite empty. This discomfort, which, they realized, was a foretaste of the far greater hardships which were in store for them, made everyone become more and more slack and jaded. Earlier in the day they had been singing, but now this stopped entirely and they began to ask each other how much further it was to Turowa Wolska, where they supposed that they were going to spend the night.

  Meanwhile Lieutenant Dub, through being well shaken up in the two-wheeled cart, was slowly coming to. He could now raise himself into a sitting posture and more than five hundred yards ahead of him he saw clouds of dust, from which the shapes of soldiers dimly emerged. Lieutenant Dub, who now began to recover his martial enthusiasm, leaned his head over the side of the cart and yelled into the midst of the dust rising from the highroad:

  "Soldiers, the lofty task before you is a difficult one ; you are faced by all kinds of privations and hardships of every description. But I have the utmost faith in your endurance and your strong will. No obstacle, soldiers, is too great for you to overcome. Once more I will repeat that I am not leading you to any easy victory. It's going to be a hard job for you, but you'll manage it in the end, and your fame will endure through the ages."

  And, at this point, Lieutenant Dub was very, very unwell indeed. He bowed his head over the dust of the highway, but after this interval of abasement, he exclaimed with new fervour :

  "Soldiers, keep up your spirits! Left, right; left, right; left, right-After which he sank back on to the haversack of Chodounsky, the telephone operator, and slept soundly till they reached Turowa Wolska, where, at Lieutenant Lukash's orders, they helped him to his feet and lifted him down from the cart. He was still not quite his old self, because when he was moving off toward his squad, he said to Lieutenant Lukash :

  "You don't know me yet, but wait till you do, that's all !" "You'd better go and ask Schweik about your queer behaviour," replied Lieutenant Lukash.

  * * *

  So before rejoining his squad, Lieutenant Dub went to look for Schweik, whom he found in the company of Baloun and Quartermaster-sergeant Vanek. Being far from sure of himself, he asked them :

  "Well, are you having a good talk?"

  "That we are, sir," replied Schweik. "We're just talking about lemon juice. There's nothing like a good talk for making a soldier forget his hardships."

  Lieutenant Dub then asked Schweik to come along with him for a little way, because he wanted to ask him something. When they were out of earshot of the rest, he asked in an extremely faltering voice :

  "You weren't talking about me, were you?"

  "Lord bless you, no, sir. We was just talking about lemon juice, like what I just said, sir."

  "Lieutenant Lukash was just telling me that I've been behaving queerly and that you know all about it, Schweik."

  Schweik replied in very solemn and emphatic tones :

  "You never behaved queerly, sir, not a bit of it. You was just paying a visit to a free-and-easy house. But I reckon there was some mistake about that. I expect, sir, you landed yourself in the wrong place because the weather was so hot, and if you ain't used to liquor, why, when it begins to get a bit warmer than usual, even ordinary rum'll get into your head, and you was drinking gin, sir. So I had orders to hand you a notice telling you to attend the officers' meeting that was going to be held before we started moving forward, and I found you upstairs with a young lady. And what with the gin and the hot weather and one thing and another, you didn't know who I was and you was lying undressed on a sofa. But you wasn't behaving queerly, sir, no
t by any manner of means. And as I was saying just now, sir, that's the sort of thing that might happen to anyone when the weather's hot. Some people can't stand it at all, and others take to it like a duck to water, as the saying is. If you'd have known old Vejvoda, a French-polisher he was, and he used to live down our way. Well, he made up his mind he'd never drink anything that'd make him tight. So off he goes one day to look for teetotal drinks. Just to give himself a proper send-off, like, he has a good glass of spirits before he starts. Well,

  * * *

  at the first pub he comes to, he orders a vermouth, and in a cautious sort of way he begins to ask the landlord what it is the teetotallers drink. Because he thought, and he was quite right, too, that even teetotallers couldn't stand plain water. So the landlord explains to him that teetotallers drink soda water, lemonade, milk, cold skilly, teetotal wine and other beverages without alcohol. Old Vejvoda rather takes a fancy to the teetotal wine and asks whether there was any teetotal brandy as well. Then he had some more vermouth and tells the landlord what a shame it is for a man to be always getting boozed, and the landlord says he can stand anything except a man who gets boozed in somebody else's pub and then comes to him for a bottle of soda water to clear his head, and then kicks up a row in the bargain. 'If you want to get tight,' says the landlord, 'get tight here in my pub, or you're no friend of mine.' So then, sir, old Vejvoda -"

  "Look here," snappishly interrupted Lieutenant Dub, who, as a result of Schweik's recital, had become quite sober, "what are you telling me all this for?"

  "Beg to report, sir, this ain't really got nothing to do with our official business, like, but I thought that as we was having a friendly little chat -"

  At this moment it occurred to Lieutenant Dub that Schweik again insulted him, and he shouted at him :

  "One of these days you'll get to know what sort of man I am. What are you standing like that for?"