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"Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?" | Kropp | a crust of bread here."<|quote|>"Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?"</|quote|>He spits. "Yes, a couple. | won't find so much as a crust of bread here."<|quote|>"Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?"</|quote|>He spits. "Yes, a couple. But they mostly loaf round | we might sleep if we weren't so terribly hungry. Kropp asks an artilleryman who has been some time in this neighbourhood: "Is there a canteen anywhere abouts?" "Is there a what?" he laughs. "There's nothing to be had here. You won't find so much as a crust of bread here."<|quote|>"Aren't there any inhabitants here at ... | thin. We use our blankets to cover ourselves. Kat looks at the place and then says to Haie Westhus: "Come with me." They go off to explore. Half an hour later they are back again with arms full of straw. Kat has found a horse-box with straw in it. Now we might sleep if we weren't so terribly hungry. Kropp asks an a... | I are, and Haie Westhus too, more or less. But Haie is rather the executive arm operating under Kat's orders when things come to blows. For that he has his qualifications. For example, we land at night in some entirely unknown spot, a sorry hole, that has been eaten out to the very walls. We are quartered in a small da... | me." Katczinsky merely says: "Fetch your mess-tin." We follow curiously. He takes us to a tub beside his straw sack. It is nearly half full of a stew of beef and beans. Katczinsky plants himself in front of it like a general and says: "Sharp eyes and light fingers! That's what the Prussians say." We are surprised. ... | once, we want the bed. Outside they are lying on the floor." I collect the things, untie Kemmerich's identification disc and take it away. The orderly asks about the pay-book, I say that it is probably in the orderly-room, and go. Behind me they are already hauling Franz on to a water-proof sheet. Outside the door I... | Kropp nudges me: "Seen the infants?" I nod. We stick out our chests, shave in the open, shove our hands in our pockets, inspect the recruits and feel ourselves to be stone-age veterans. Katczinsky joins us. We stroll past the horse-boxes and go over to the reinforcements, who have already been issued with gas-masks ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
He spits. | No speaker | inhabitants here at all then?"<|quote|>He spits.</|quote|>"Yes, a couple. But they | bread here." "Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?"<|quote|>He spits.</|quote|>"Yes, a couple. But they mostly loaf round the cook | hungry. Kropp asks an artilleryman who has been some time in this neighbourhood: "Is there a canteen anywhere abouts?" "Is there a what?" he laughs. "There's nothing to be had here. You won't find so much as a crust of bread here." "Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?"<|quote|>He spits.</|quote|>"Yes, a cou... | Kat looks at the place and then says to Haie Westhus: "Come with me." They go off to explore. Half an hour later they are back again with arms full of straw. Kat has found a horse-box with straw in it. Now we might sleep if we weren't so terribly hungry. Kropp asks an artilleryman who has been some time in this nei... | less. But Haie is rather the executive arm operating under Kat's orders when things come to blows. For that he has his qualifications. For example, we land at night in some entirely unknown spot, a sorry hole, that has been eaten out to the very walls. We are quartered in a small dark factory adapted to the purpose. Th... | follow curiously. He takes us to a tub beside his straw sack. It is nearly half full of a stew of beef and beans. Katczinsky plants himself in front of it like a general and says: "Sharp eyes and light fingers! That's what the Prussians say." We are surprised. "Great guts, Kat, how did you come by that?" I ask him. "G... | lying on the floor." I collect the things, untie Kemmerich's identification disc and take it away. The orderly asks about the pay-book, I say that it is probably in the orderly-room, and go. Behind me they are already hauling Franz on to a water-proof sheet. Outside the door I am aware of the darkness and the wind a... | light fingers! That's what the Prussians say." We are surprised. "Great guts, Kat, how did you come by that?" I ask him. "Ginger was glad I took it. I gave him three pieces of parachute silk for it. Cold beans taste fine, too." Grudgingly he gives the youngster a portion and says: "Next time you come with your mess-t... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"That's a bad business!--Then we'll have to pull in our belts and wait till the rations come up in the morning." | Kropp | the cook house and beg."<|quote|>"That's a bad business!--Then we'll have to pull in our belts and wait till the rations come up in the morning."</|quote|>But I see Kat has | But they mostly loaf round the cook house and beg."<|quote|>"That's a bad business!--Then we'll have to pull in our belts and wait till the rations come up in the morning."</|quote|>But I see Kat has put on his cap. "Where | a canteen anywhere abouts?" "Is there a what?" he laughs. "There's nothing to be had here. You won't find so much as a crust of bread here." "Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?" He spits. "Yes, a couple. But they mostly loaf round the cook house and beg."<|quote|>"That's a bad business!--Then we'll have t... | go off to explore. Half an hour later they are back again with arms full of straw. Kat has found a horse-box with straw in it. Now we might sleep if we weren't so terribly hungry. Kropp asks an artilleryman who has been some time in this neighbourhood: "Is there a canteen anywhere abouts?" "Is there a what?" he laughs.... | to blows. For that he has his qualifications. For example, we land at night in some entirely unknown spot, a sorry hole, that has been eaten out to the very walls. We are quartered in a small dark factory adapted to the purpose. There are beds in it, or rather bunks--a couple of wooden beams over which wire netting is ... | half full of a stew of beef and beans. Katczinsky plants himself in front of it like a general and says: "Sharp eyes and light fingers! That's what the Prussians say." We are surprised. "Great guts, Kat, how did you come by that?" I ask him. "Ginger was glad I took it. I gave him three pieces of parachute silk for it... | away. The orderly asks about the pay-book, I say that it is probably in the orderly-room, and go. Behind me they are already hauling Franz on to a water-proof sheet. Outside the door I am aware of the darkness and the wind as a deliverance. I breathe as deep as I can, and feel the breeze in my face, warm and soft as ne... | cigar or a chew of tobacco in your other hand. Get me?" Then he turns to us. "You get off scot free, of course." * * Katczinsky never goes short; he has a sixth sense. There are such people everywhere but one does not appreciate it at first. Every company has one or two. Katczinsky is the smartest I know. By trade... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
But I see Kat has put on his cap. | No speaker | come up in the morning."<|quote|>But I see Kat has put on his cap.</|quote|>"Where to, Kat?" I ask. | and wait till the rations come up in the morning."<|quote|>But I see Kat has put on his cap.</|quote|>"Where to, Kat?" I ask. "Just to explore the place | as a crust of bread here." "Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?" He spits. "Yes, a couple. But they mostly loaf round the cook house and beg." "That's a bad business!--Then we'll have to pull in our belts and wait till the rations come up in the morning."<|quote|>But I see Kat has put on his cap.</|quote|>"... | horse-box with straw in it. Now we might sleep if we weren't so terribly hungry. Kropp asks an artilleryman who has been some time in this neighbourhood: "Is there a canteen anywhere abouts?" "Is there a what?" he laughs. "There's nothing to be had here. You won't find so much as a crust of bread here." "Aren't there ... | hole, that has been eaten out to the very walls. We are quartered in a small dark factory adapted to the purpose. There are beds in it, or rather bunks--a couple of wooden beams over which wire netting is stretched. Wire netting is hard. And there's nothing to put on it. Our waterproof sheets are too thin. We use our b... | "Sharp eyes and light fingers! That's what the Prussians say." We are surprised. "Great guts, Kat, how did you come by that?" I ask him. "Ginger was glad I took it. I gave him three pieces of parachute silk for it. Cold beans taste fine, too." Grudgingly he gives the youngster a portion and says: "Next time you come... | are already hauling Franz on to a water-proof sheet. Outside the door I am aware of the darkness and the wind as a deliverance. I breathe as deep as I can, and feel the breeze in my face, warm and soft as never before. Thoughts of girls, of flowery meadows, of white clouds suddenly come into my head. My feet begin to m... | understands all trades. It's a good thing to be friends with him, as Kropp and I are, and Haie Westhus too, more or less. But Haie is rather the executive arm operating under Kat's orders when things come to blows. For that he has his qualifications. For example, we land at night in some entirely unknown spot, a sorry ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Where to, Kat?" | Paul | has put on his cap.<|quote|>"Where to, Kat?"</|quote|>I ask. "Just to explore | morning." But I see Kat has put on his cap.<|quote|>"Where to, Kat?"</|quote|>I ask. "Just to explore the place a bit." He | inhabitants here at all then?" He spits. "Yes, a couple. But they mostly loaf round the cook house and beg." "That's a bad business!--Then we'll have to pull in our belts and wait till the rations come up in the morning." But I see Kat has put on his cap.<|quote|>"Where to, Kat?"</|quote|>I ask. "Just to explore the p... | if we weren't so terribly hungry. Kropp asks an artilleryman who has been some time in this neighbourhood: "Is there a canteen anywhere abouts?" "Is there a what?" he laughs. "There's nothing to be had here. You won't find so much as a crust of bread here." "Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?" He spits. "Y... | walls. We are quartered in a small dark factory adapted to the purpose. There are beds in it, or rather bunks--a couple of wooden beams over which wire netting is stretched. Wire netting is hard. And there's nothing to put on it. Our waterproof sheets are too thin. We use our blankets to cover ourselves. Kat looks at t... | say." We are surprised. "Great guts, Kat, how did you come by that?" I ask him. "Ginger was glad I took it. I gave him three pieces of parachute silk for it. Cold beans taste fine, too." Grudgingly he gives the youngster a portion and says: "Next time you come with your mess-tin have a cigar or a chew of tobacco in y... | Outside the door I am aware of the darkness and the wind as a deliverance. I breathe as deep as I can, and feel the breeze in my face, warm and soft as never before. Thoughts of girls, of flowery meadows, of white clouds suddenly come into my head. My feet begin to move forward in my boots, I go quicker, I run. Soldier... | to the reinforcements, who have already been issued with gas-masks and coffee. "Long time since you've had anything decent to eat, eh?" Kat asks one of the youngsters. He grimaces. "For breakfast, turnip-bread--lunch, turnip-stew--supper, turnip-cutlets and turnip-salad." Kat gives a knowing whistle. "Bread made of tu... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I ask. | No speaker | his cap. "Where to, Kat?"<|quote|>I ask.</|quote|>"Just to explore the place | see Kat has put on his cap. "Where to, Kat?"<|quote|>I ask.</|quote|>"Just to explore the place a bit." He strolls off. | all then?" He spits. "Yes, a couple. But they mostly loaf round the cook house and beg." "That's a bad business!--Then we'll have to pull in our belts and wait till the rations come up in the morning." But I see Kat has put on his cap. "Where to, Kat?"<|quote|>I ask.</|quote|>"Just to explore the place a bit." He stro... | so terribly hungry. Kropp asks an artilleryman who has been some time in this neighbourhood: "Is there a canteen anywhere abouts?" "Is there a what?" he laughs. "There's nothing to be had here. You won't find so much as a crust of bread here." "Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?" He spits. "Yes, a couple. ... | quartered in a small dark factory adapted to the purpose. There are beds in it, or rather bunks--a couple of wooden beams over which wire netting is stretched. Wire netting is hard. And there's nothing to put on it. Our waterproof sheets are too thin. We use our blankets to cover ourselves. Kat looks at the place and t... | surprised. "Great guts, Kat, how did you come by that?" I ask him. "Ginger was glad I took it. I gave him three pieces of parachute silk for it. Cold beans taste fine, too." Grudgingly he gives the youngster a portion and says: "Next time you come with your mess-tin have a cigar or a chew of tobacco in your other han... | I am aware of the darkness and the wind as a deliverance. I breathe as deep as I can, and feel the breeze in my face, warm and soft as never before. Thoughts of girls, of flowery meadows, of white clouds suddenly come into my head. My feet begin to move forward in my boots, I go quicker, I run. Soldiers pass by me, I h... | can't kid me." Katczinsky merely says: "Fetch your mess-tin." We follow curiously. He takes us to a tub beside his straw sack. It is nearly half full of a stew of beef and beans. Katczinsky plants himself in front of it like a general and says: "Sharp eyes and light fingers! That's what the Prussians say." We are s... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Just to explore the place a bit." | Katczinsky | "Where to, Kat?" I ask.<|quote|>"Just to explore the place a bit."</|quote|>He strolls off. The artilleryman | has put on his cap. "Where to, Kat?" I ask.<|quote|>"Just to explore the place a bit."</|quote|>He strolls off. The artilleryman grins scornfully. "Let him explore! | He spits. "Yes, a couple. But they mostly loaf round the cook house and beg." "That's a bad business!--Then we'll have to pull in our belts and wait till the rations come up in the morning." But I see Kat has put on his cap. "Where to, Kat?" I ask.<|quote|>"Just to explore the place a bit."</|quote|>He strolls off. T... | hungry. Kropp asks an artilleryman who has been some time in this neighbourhood: "Is there a canteen anywhere abouts?" "Is there a what?" he laughs. "There's nothing to be had here. You won't find so much as a crust of bread here." "Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?" He spits. "Yes, a couple. But they mo... | a small dark factory adapted to the purpose. There are beds in it, or rather bunks--a couple of wooden beams over which wire netting is stretched. Wire netting is hard. And there's nothing to put on it. Our waterproof sheets are too thin. We use our blankets to cover ourselves. Kat looks at the place and then says to H... | guts, Kat, how did you come by that?" I ask him. "Ginger was glad I took it. I gave him three pieces of parachute silk for it. Cold beans taste fine, too." Grudgingly he gives the youngster a portion and says: "Next time you come with your mess-tin have a cigar or a chew of tobacco in your other hand. Get me?" Then ... | aware of the darkness and the wind as a deliverance. I breathe as deep as I can, and feel the breeze in my face, warm and soft as never before. Thoughts of girls, of flowery meadows, of white clouds suddenly come into my head. My feet begin to move forward in my boots, I go quicker, I run. Soldiers pass by me, I hear t... | past the horse-boxes and go over to the reinforcements, who have already been issued with gas-masks and coffee. "Long time since you've had anything decent to eat, eh?" Kat asks one of the youngsters. He grimaces. "For breakfast, turnip-bread--lunch, turnip-stew--supper, turnip-cutlets and turnip-salad." Kat gives a k... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
He strolls off. The artilleryman grins scornfully. | No speaker | explore the place a bit."<|quote|>He strolls off. The artilleryman grins scornfully.</|quote|>"Let him explore! But don't | Kat?" I ask. "Just to explore the place a bit."<|quote|>He strolls off. The artilleryman grins scornfully.</|quote|>"Let him explore! But don't be too hopeful about it." | mostly loaf round the cook house and beg." "That's a bad business!--Then we'll have to pull in our belts and wait till the rations come up in the morning." But I see Kat has put on his cap. "Where to, Kat?" I ask. "Just to explore the place a bit."<|quote|>He strolls off. The artilleryman grins scornfully.</|quote|>"L... | been some time in this neighbourhood: "Is there a canteen anywhere abouts?" "Is there a what?" he laughs. "There's nothing to be had here. You won't find so much as a crust of bread here." "Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?" He spits. "Yes, a couple. But they mostly loaf round the cook house and beg." "T... | purpose. There are beds in it, or rather bunks--a couple of wooden beams over which wire netting is stretched. Wire netting is hard. And there's nothing to put on it. Our waterproof sheets are too thin. We use our blankets to cover ourselves. Kat looks at the place and then says to Haie Westhus: "Come with me." They go... | that?" I ask him. "Ginger was glad I took it. I gave him three pieces of parachute silk for it. Cold beans taste fine, too." Grudgingly he gives the youngster a portion and says: "Next time you come with your mess-tin have a cigar or a chew of tobacco in your other hand. Get me?" Then he turns to us. "You get off sc... | as a deliverance. I breathe as deep as I can, and feel the breeze in my face, warm and soft as never before. Thoughts of girls, of flowery meadows, of white clouds suddenly come into my head. My feet begin to move forward in my boots, I go quicker, I run. Soldiers pass by me, I hear their voices without understanding. ... | "Bread made of turnips? You've been in luck, it's nothing new for it to be made of sawdust. But what do you say to haricot beans? Have some?" The youngster turns red: "You can't kid me." Katczinsky merely says: "Fetch your mess-tin." We follow curiously. He takes us to a tub beside his straw sack. It is nearly hal... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Disappointed we lie down and consider whether we couldn't have a go at the iron rations. But it's too risky; so we try to get a wink of sleep. Kropp divides a cigarette and hands me half. Tjaden gives an account of his national dish--broad-beans and bacon. He despises it when not flavoured with bog-myrtle, and, | No speaker | be too hopeful about it."<|quote|>Disappointed we lie down and consider whether we couldn't have a go at the iron rations. But it's too risky; so we try to get a wink of sleep. Kropp divides a cigarette and hands me half. Tjaden gives an account of his national dish--broad-beans and bacon. He despises it when not f... | "Let him explore! But don't be too hopeful about it."<|quote|>Disappointed we lie down and consider whether we couldn't have a go at the iron rations. But it's too risky; so we try to get a wink of sleep. Kropp divides a cigarette and hands me half. Tjaden gives an account of his national dish--broad-beans and baco... | our belts and wait till the rations come up in the morning." But I see Kat has put on his cap. "Where to, Kat?" I ask. "Just to explore the place a bit." He strolls off. The artilleryman grins scornfully. "Let him explore! But don't be too hopeful about it."<|quote|>Disappointed we lie down and consider whether we co... | laughs. "There's nothing to be had here. You won't find so much as a crust of bread here." "Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?" He spits. "Yes, a couple. But they mostly loaf round the cook house and beg." "That's a bad business!--Then we'll have to pull in our belts and wait till the rations come up in t... | is stretched. Wire netting is hard. And there's nothing to put on it. Our waterproof sheets are too thin. We use our blankets to cover ourselves. Kat looks at the place and then says to Haie Westhus: "Come with me." They go off to explore. Half an hour later they are back again with arms full of straw. Kat has found ... | silk for it. Cold beans taste fine, too." Grudgingly he gives the youngster a portion and says: "Next time you come with your mess-tin have a cigar or a chew of tobacco in your other hand. Get me?" Then he turns to us. "You get off scot free, of course." * * Katczinsky never goes short; he has a sixth sense. There a... | warm and soft as never before. Thoughts of girls, of flowery meadows, of white clouds suddenly come into my head. My feet begin to move forward in my boots, I go quicker, I run. Soldiers pass by me, I hear their voices without understanding. The earth is streaming with forces which pour into me through the soles of my ... | gave him three pieces of parachute silk for it. Cold beans taste fine, too." Grudgingly he gives the youngster a portion and says: "Next time you come with your mess-tin have a cigar or a chew of tobacco in your other hand. Get me?" Then he turns to us. "You get off scot free, of course." * * Katczinsky never goes sh... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"for God's sake, let it all be cooked together, not the potatoes, the beans, and the bacon separately." | Tjaden | not flavoured with bog-myrtle, and,<|quote|>"for God's sake, let it all be cooked together, not the potatoes, the beans, and the bacon separately."</|quote|>Someone growls that he will | bacon. He despises it when not flavoured with bog-myrtle, and,<|quote|>"for God's sake, let it all be cooked together, not the potatoes, the beans, and the bacon separately."</|quote|>Someone growls that he will pound Tjaden into bog-myrtle if | whether we couldn't have a go at the iron rations. But it's too risky; so we try to get a wink of sleep. Kropp divides a cigarette and hands me half. Tjaden gives an account of his national dish--broad-beans and bacon. He despises it when not flavoured with bog-myrtle, and,<|quote|>"for God's sake, let it all be cooked... | rations come up in the morning." But I see Kat has put on his cap. "Where to, Kat?" I ask. "Just to explore the place a bit." He strolls off. The artilleryman grins scornfully. "Let him explore! But don't be too hopeful about it." Disappointed we lie down and consider whether we couldn't have a go at the iron rations... | of straw. Kat has found a horse-box with straw in it. Now we might sleep if we weren't so terribly hungry. Kropp asks an artilleryman who has been some time in this neighbourhood: "Is there a canteen anywhere abouts?" "Is there a what?" he laughs. "There's nothing to be had here. You won't find so much as a crust of b... | he has a sixth sense. There are such people everywhere but one does not appreciate it at first. Every company has one or two. Katczinsky is the smartest I know. By trade he is a cobbler, I believe, but that hasn't anything to do with it; he understands all trades. It's a good thing to be friends with him, as Kropp and ... | soles of my feet. The night crackles electrically, the front thunders like a concert of drums. My limbs move supply, I feel my joints strong, I breathe the air deeply. The night lives, I live. I feel a hunger, greater than comes from the belly alone. Müller stands in front of the hut and waits for me. I give him the bo... | And there's nothing to put on it. Our waterproof sheets are too thin. We use our blankets to cover ourselves. Kat looks at the place and then says to Haie Westhus: "Come with me." They go off to explore. Half an hour later they are back again with arms full of straw. Kat has found a horse-box with straw in it. Now w... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Someone growls that he will pound Tjaden into bog-myrtle if he doesn't shut up. Then all becomes quiet in the big room--only the candles flickering from the necks of a couple of bottles and the artilleryman spitting every now and then. We stir a bit as the door opens and Kat appears. I think I must be dreaming; he h... | No speaker | beans, and the bacon separately."<|quote|>Someone growls that he will pound Tjaden into bog-myrtle if he doesn't shut up. Then all becomes quiet in the big room--only the candles flickering from the necks of a couple of bottles and the artilleryman spitting every now and then. We stir a bit as the door opens and Kat ... | together, not the potatoes, the beans, and the bacon separately."<|quote|>Someone growls that he will pound Tjaden into bog-myrtle if he doesn't shut up. Then all becomes quiet in the big room--only the candles flickering from the necks of a couple of bottles and the artilleryman spitting every now and then. We stir ... | get a wink of sleep. Kropp divides a cigarette and hands me half. Tjaden gives an account of his national dish--broad-beans and bacon. He despises it when not flavoured with bog-myrtle, and, "for God's sake, let it all be cooked together, not the potatoes, the beans, and the bacon separately."<|quote|>Someone growls th... | I ask. "Just to explore the place a bit." He strolls off. The artilleryman grins scornfully. "Let him explore! But don't be too hopeful about it." Disappointed we lie down and consider whether we couldn't have a go at the iron rations. But it's too risky; so we try to get a wink of sleep. Kropp divides a cigarette ... | so terribly hungry. Kropp asks an artilleryman who has been some time in this neighbourhood: "Is there a canteen anywhere abouts?" "Is there a what?" he laughs. "There's nothing to be had here. You won't find so much as a crust of bread here." "Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?" He spits. "Yes, a couple. ... | Every company has one or two. Katczinsky is the smartest I know. By trade he is a cobbler, I believe, but that hasn't anything to do with it; he understands all trades. It's a good thing to be friends with him, as Kropp and I are, and Haie Westhus too, more or less. But Haie is rather the executive arm operating under ... | move supply, I feel my joints strong, I breathe the air deeply. The night lives, I live. I feel a hunger, greater than comes from the belly alone. Müller stands in front of the hut and waits for me. I give him the boots. We go in and he tries them on. They fit well. He roots among his supplies and offers me a fine piec... | Cold beans taste fine, too." Grudgingly he gives the youngster a portion and says: "Next time you come with your mess-tin have a cigar or a chew of tobacco in your other hand. Get me?" Then he turns to us. "You get off scot free, of course." * * Katczinsky never goes short; he has a sixth sense. There are such peopl... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Kat gives no explanation. He has the bread, the rest doesn't matter. I'm sure that if he were planted down in the middle of the desert, in half an hour he would have gathered together a supper of roast meat, dates, and wine. | No speaker | God! and still hot too!"<|quote|>Kat gives no explanation. He has the bread, the rest doesn't matter. I'm sure that if he were planted down in the middle of the desert, in half an hour he would have gathered together a supper of roast meat, dates, and wine.</|quote|>"Cut some wood," he says | the bread. "Real bread, by God! and still hot too!"<|quote|>Kat gives no explanation. He has the bread, the rest doesn't matter. I'm sure that if he were planted down in the middle of the desert, in half an hour he would have gathered together a supper of roast meat, dates, and wine.</|quote|>"Cut some wood," he says ... | the door opens and Kat appears. I think I must be dreaming; he has two loaves of bread under his arm and a blood-stained sandbag full of horse-flesh in his hand. The artilleryman's pipe drops from his mouth. He feels the bread. "Real bread, by God! and still hot too!"<|quote|>Kat gives no explanation. He has the bread... | and the bacon separately." Someone growls that he will pound Tjaden into bog-myrtle if he doesn't shut up. Then all becomes quiet in the big room--only the candles flickering from the necks of a couple of bottles and the artilleryman spitting every now and then. We stir a bit as the door opens and Kat appears. I thi... | cap. "Where to, Kat?" I ask. "Just to explore the place a bit." He strolls off. The artilleryman grins scornfully. "Let him explore! But don't be too hopeful about it." Disappointed we lie down and consider whether we couldn't have a go at the iron rations. But it's too risky; so we try to get a wink of sleep. Krop... | very walls. We are quartered in a small dark factory adapted to the purpose. There are beds in it, or rather bunks--a couple of wooden beams over which wire netting is stretched. Wire netting is hard. And there's nothing to put on it. Our waterproof sheets are too thin. We use our blankets to cover ourselves. Kat looks... | huts. Some of them are old hands, but there are twenty-five men of a later draft from the base. They are about two years younger than us. Kropp nudges me: "Seen the infants?" I nod. We stick out our chests, shave in the open, shove our hands in our pockets, inspect the recruits and feel ourselves to be stone-age veter... | weren't so terribly hungry. Kropp asks an artilleryman who has been some time in this neighbourhood: "Is there a canteen anywhere abouts?" "Is there a what?" he laughs. "There's nothing to be had here. You won't find so much as a crust of bread here." "Aren't there any inhabitants here at all then?" He spits. "Yes, a ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Cut some wood," | Katczinsky | roast meat, dates, and wine.<|quote|>"Cut some wood,"</|quote|>he says curtly to Haie. | gathered together a supper of roast meat, dates, and wine.<|quote|>"Cut some wood,"</|quote|>he says curtly to Haie. Then he hauls out a | bread, by God! and still hot too!" Kat gives no explanation. He has the bread, the rest doesn't matter. I'm sure that if he were planted down in the middle of the desert, in half an hour he would have gathered together a supper of roast meat, dates, and wine.<|quote|>"Cut some wood,"</|quote|>he says curtly to Haie. T... | and then. We stir a bit as the door opens and Kat appears. I think I must be dreaming; he has two loaves of bread under his arm and a blood-stained sandbag full of horse-flesh in his hand. The artilleryman's pipe drops from his mouth. He feels the bread. "Real bread, by God! and still hot too!" Kat gives no explanation... | the iron rations. But it's too risky; so we try to get a wink of sleep. Kropp divides a cigarette and hands me half. Tjaden gives an account of his national dish--broad-beans and bacon. He despises it when not flavoured with bog-myrtle, and, "for God's sake, let it all be cooked together, not the potatoes, the beans, a... | Our waterproof sheets are too thin. We use our blankets to cover ourselves. Kat looks at the place and then says to Haie Westhus: "Come with me." They go off to explore. Half an hour later they are back again with arms full of straw. Kat has found a horse-box with straw in it. Now we might sleep if we weren't so ter... | open, shove our hands in our pockets, inspect the recruits and feel ourselves to be stone-age veterans. Katczinsky joins us. We stroll past the horse-boxes and go over to the reinforcements, who have already been issued with gas-masks and coffee. "Long time since you've had anything decent to eat, eh?" Kat asks one of ... | are quartered in a small dark factory adapted to the purpose. There are beds in it, or rather bunks--a couple of wooden beams over which wire netting is stretched. Wire netting is hard. And there's nothing to put on it. Our waterproof sheets are too thin. We use our blankets to cover ourselves. Kat looks at the place a... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
he says curtly to Haie. Then he hauls out a frying-pan from under his coat, and a handful of salt as well as a lump of fat from his pocket. He has thought of everything. Haie makes a fire on the floor. It lights up the empty room of the factory. We climb out of bed. The artilleryman hesitates. He wonders whether... | No speaker | and wine. "Cut some wood,"<|quote|>he says curtly to Haie. Then he hauls out a frying-pan from under his coat, and a handful of salt as well as a lump of fat from his pocket. He has thought of everything. Haie makes a fire on the floor. It lights up the empty room of the factory. We climb out of bed. The artiller... | supper of roast meat, dates, and wine. "Cut some wood,"<|quote|>he says curtly to Haie. Then he hauls out a frying-pan from under his coat, and a handful of salt as well as a lump of fat from his pocket. He has thought of everything. Haie makes a fire on the floor. It lights up the empty room of the factory. We cl... | and still hot too!" Kat gives no explanation. He has the bread, the rest doesn't matter. I'm sure that if he were planted down in the middle of the desert, in half an hour he would have gathered together a supper of roast meat, dates, and wine. "Cut some wood,"<|quote|>he says curtly to Haie. Then he hauls out a fryi... | stir a bit as the door opens and Kat appears. I think I must be dreaming; he has two loaves of bread under his arm and a blood-stained sandbag full of horse-flesh in his hand. The artilleryman's pipe drops from his mouth. He feels the bread. "Real bread, by God! and still hot too!" Kat gives no explanation. He has the... | But it's too risky; so we try to get a wink of sleep. Kropp divides a cigarette and hands me half. Tjaden gives an account of his national dish--broad-beans and bacon. He despises it when not flavoured with bog-myrtle, and, "for God's sake, let it all be cooked together, not the potatoes, the beans, and the bacon separ... | are too thin. We use our blankets to cover ourselves. Kat looks at the place and then says to Haie Westhus: "Come with me." They go off to explore. Half an hour later they are back again with arms full of straw. Kat has found a horse-box with straw in it. Now we might sleep if we weren't so terribly hungry. Kropp a... | hands in our pockets, inspect the recruits and feel ourselves to be stone-age veterans. Katczinsky joins us. We stroll past the horse-boxes and go over to the reinforcements, who have already been issued with gas-masks and coffee. "Long time since you've had anything decent to eat, eh?" Kat asks one of the youngsters. ... | place a bit." He strolls off. The artilleryman grins scornfully. "Let him explore! But don't be too hopeful about it." Disappointed we lie down and consider whether we couldn't have a go at the iron rations. But it's too risky; so we try to get a wink of sleep. Kropp divides a cigarette and hands me half. Tjaden g... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"You see, we are losing the war because we can salute too well," | Katczinsky | it out of his head.<|quote|>"You see, we are losing the war because we can salute too well,"</|quote|>he says. Kropp stalks up, | a major. Kat can't get it out of his head.<|quote|>"You see, we are losing the war because we can salute too well,"</|quote|>he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up | settled ourselves on the sunny side of the hut. There is a smell of tar, of summer, and of sweaty feet. Kat sits beside me. He wants to talk. To-day we have been practising saluting because Tjaden failed to salute a major. Kat can't get it out of his head.<|quote|>"You see, we are losing the war because we can salute t... | cold, a small stove and wood, hay and straw, a table and chairs--but above all food. It is uncanny; one would think he conjured it out of the air. His masterpiece was four boxes of lobsters. Admittedly we would rather have had a good beef steak. * * We have settled ourselves on the sunny side of the hut. There is a sme... | knows the way to roast horse-flesh so that it's tender. It shouldn't be put straight into the pan, that makes it tough. It should be boiled first in a little water. With our knives we squat round in a circle and fill our bellies. That is Kat. If for but one hour in a year something eatable were to be had in some one pl... | and the artilleryman spitting every now and then. We stir a bit as the door opens and Kat appears. I think I must be dreaming; he has two loaves of bread under his arm and a blood-stained sandbag full of horse-flesh in his hand. The artilleryman's pipe drops from his mouth. He feels the bread. "Real bread, by God! and ... | a good thing to be friends with him, as Kropp and I are, and Haie Westhus too, more or less. But Haie is rather the executive arm operating under Kat's orders when things come to blows. For that he has his qualifications. For example, we land at night in some entirely unknown spot, a sorry hole, that has been eaten out... | he might as well be thin air. He goes off cursing. Kat knows the way to roast horse-flesh so that it's tender. It shouldn't be put straight into the pan, that makes it tough. It should be boiled first in a little water. With our knives we squat round in a circle and fill our bellies. That is Kat. If for but one hour in... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up and his feet bare. He lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his eyes to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically: | No speaker | we can salute too well,"<|quote|>he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up and his feet bare. He lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his eyes to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically:</|quote|>"Every little bean must be | are losing the war because we can salute too well,"<|quote|>he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up and his feet bare. He lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his eyes to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically:</|quote|>"Every little bean must be heard as well as se... | of tar, of summer, and of sweaty feet. Kat sits beside me. He wants to talk. To-day we have been practising saluting because Tjaden failed to salute a major. Kat can't get it out of his head. "You see, we are losing the war because we can salute too well,"<|quote|>he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up ... | above all food. It is uncanny; one would think he conjured it out of the air. His masterpiece was four boxes of lobsters. Admittedly we would rather have had a good beef steak. * * We have settled ourselves on the sunny side of the hut. There is a smell of tar, of summer, and of sweaty feet. Kat sits beside me. He want... | put straight into the pan, that makes it tough. It should be boiled first in a little water. With our knives we squat round in a circle and fill our bellies. That is Kat. If for but one hour in a year something eatable were to be had in some one place only, within that hour, as if moved by a vision, he would put on his... | the door opens and Kat appears. I think I must be dreaming; he has two loaves of bread under his arm and a blood-stained sandbag full of horse-flesh in his hand. The artilleryman's pipe drops from his mouth. He feels the bread. "Real bread, by God! and still hot too!" Kat gives no explanation. He has the bread, the re... | and Haie Westhus too, more or less. But Haie is rather the executive arm operating under Kat's orders when things come to blows. For that he has his qualifications. For example, we land at night in some entirely unknown spot, a sorry hole, that has been eaten out to the very walls. We are quartered in a small dark fact... | wonders whether to praise Kat and so perhaps gain a little for himself. But Katczinsky doesn't even see him, he might as well be thin air. He goes off cursing. Kat knows the way to roast horse-flesh so that it's tender. It shouldn't be put straight into the pan, that makes it tough. It should be boiled first in a littl... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Every little bean must be heard as well as seen." | Katczinsky | mighty fart, and says apologetically:<|quote|>"Every little bean must be heard as well as seen."</|quote|>The two begin to argue. | to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically:<|quote|>"Every little bean must be heard as well as seen."</|quote|>The two begin to argue. At the same time they | we are losing the war because we can salute too well," he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up and his feet bare. He lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his eyes to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically:<|quote|>"Every little bean must be heard as well as seen."</... | on the sunny side of the hut. There is a smell of tar, of summer, and of sweaty feet. Kat sits beside me. He wants to talk. To-day we have been practising saluting because Tjaden failed to salute a major. Kat can't get it out of his head. "You see, we are losing the war because we can salute too well," he says. Kropp ... | in a year something eatable were to be had in some one place only, within that hour, as if moved by a vision, he would put on his cap, go out and walk directly there, as though following a compass, and find it. He finds everything--if it is cold, a small stove and wood, hay and straw, a table and chairs--but above all ... | feels the bread. "Real bread, by God! and still hot too!" Kat gives no explanation. He has the bread, the rest doesn't matter. I'm sure that if he were planted down in the middle of the desert, in half an hour he would have gathered together a supper of roast meat, dates, and wine. "Cut some wood," he says curtly to H... | spot, a sorry hole, that has been eaten out to the very walls. We are quartered in a small dark factory adapted to the purpose. There are beds in it, or rather bunks--a couple of wooden beams over which wire netting is stretched. Wire netting is hard. And there's nothing to put on it. Our waterproof sheets are too thin... | sake, let it all be cooked together, not the potatoes, the beans, and the bacon separately." Someone growls that he will pound Tjaden into bog-myrtle if he doesn't shut up. Then all becomes quiet in the big room--only the candles flickering from the necks of a couple of bottles and the artilleryman spitting every now ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
The two begin to argue. At the same time they lay a bottle of beer on the result of an air-fight that's going on above us. Katczinsky won't budge from the opinion, which as an old Front-hog, he rhymes: Give 'em all the same grub and all the same pay And the war would be over and done in a day. Kropp on the oth... | No speaker | heard as well as seen."<|quote|>The two begin to argue. At the same time they lay a bottle of beer on the result of an air-fight that's going on above us. Katczinsky won't budge from the opinion, which as an old Front-hog, he rhymes: Give 'em all the same grub and all the same pay And the war would be over and d... | "Every little bean must be heard as well as seen."<|quote|>The two begin to argue. At the same time they lay a bottle of beer on the result of an air-fight that's going on above us. Katczinsky won't budge from the opinion, which as an old Front-hog, he rhymes: Give 'em all the same grub and all the same pay And ... | well," he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up and his feet bare. He lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his eyes to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically: "Every little bean must be heard as well as seen."<|quote|>The two begin to argue. At the same time they la... | smell of tar, of summer, and of sweaty feet. Kat sits beside me. He wants to talk. To-day we have been practising saluting because Tjaden failed to salute a major. Kat can't get it out of his head. "You see, we are losing the war because we can salute too well," he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up an... | some one place only, within that hour, as if moved by a vision, he would put on his cap, go out and walk directly there, as though following a compass, and find it. He finds everything--if it is cold, a small stove and wood, hay and straw, a table and chairs--but above all food. It is uncanny; one would think he conjur... | too!" Kat gives no explanation. He has the bread, the rest doesn't matter. I'm sure that if he were planted down in the middle of the desert, in half an hour he would have gathered together a supper of roast meat, dates, and wine. "Cut some wood," he says curtly to Haie. Then he hauls out a frying-pan from under his ... | the very walls. We are quartered in a small dark factory adapted to the purpose. There are beds in it, or rather bunks--a couple of wooden beams over which wire netting is stretched. Wire netting is hard. And there's nothing to put on it. Our waterproof sheets are too thin. We use our blankets to cover ourselves. Kat l... | the floor. It lights up the empty room of the factory. We climb out of bed. The artilleryman hesitates. He wonders whether to praise Kat and so perhaps gain a little for himself. But Katczinsky doesn't even see him, he might as well be thin air. He goes off cursing. Kat knows the way to roast horse-flesh so that it's t... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
--the midday hours of physical training-- | No speaker | parts of the 98 rifle?"<|quote|>--the midday hours of physical training--</|quote|>"Pianist, forward! By the right, | of instruction-- "What are the parts of the 98 rifle?"<|quote|>--the midday hours of physical training--</|quote|>"Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the | food, sleep, smoke, and clothes! Katczinsky paints it all in lively colours. What would we not give to be able to go back to it! But we must not pursue that line of thought any further. Those early morning hours of instruction-- "What are the parts of the 98 rifle?"<|quote|>--the midday hours of physical training--</|q... | are cool and one looks toward them longingly. O dark, musty platoon huts, with the iron bedsteads, the chequered bedding, the lockers and the stools! Even you can become the object of desire; out here you have a faint resemblance to home; your rooms, full of the smell of stale food, sleep, smoke, and clothes! Katczinsk... | survives, his country wins. That would be much simpler and more just than this arrangement, where the wrong people do the fighting. The subject is dropped. Then the conversation turns to drill. A picture comes before me. Burning midday in the barrack-yard. The heat hangs over the square. The barracks are deserted. Ever... | To-day we have been practising saluting because Tjaden failed to salute a major. Kat can't get it out of his head. "You see, we are losing the war because we can salute too well," he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up and his feet bare. He lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his ... | shut up. Then all becomes quiet in the big room--only the candles flickering from the necks of a couple of bottles and the artilleryman spitting every now and then. We stir a bit as the door opens and Kat appears. I think I must be dreaming; he has two loaves of bread under his arm and a blood-stained sandbag full of h... | that hour, as if moved by a vision, he would put on his cap, go out and walk directly there, as though following a compass, and find it. He finds everything--if it is cold, a small stove and wood, hay and straw, a table and chairs--but above all food. It is uncanny; one would think he conjured it out of the air. His ma... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
We indulge in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and says: | No speaker | to the cook-house for potato-peeling."<|quote|>We indulge in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and says:</|quote|>"Change at Löhne!" That was | the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for potato-peeling."<|quote|>We indulge in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and says:</|quote|>"Change at Löhne!" That was our corporal's favourite game. Löhne | able to go back to it! But we must not pursue that line of thought any further. Those early morning hours of instruction-- "What are the parts of the 98 rifle?" --the midday hours of physical training-- "Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for potato-peeling."<|quote|>We indulge in re... | bedding, the lockers and the stools! Even you can become the object of desire; out here you have a faint resemblance to home; your rooms, full of the smell of stale food, sleep, smoke, and clothes! Katczinsky paints it all in lively colours. What would we not give to be able to go back to it! But we must not pursue tha... | do the fighting. The subject is dropped. Then the conversation turns to drill. A picture comes before me. Burning midday in the barrack-yard. The heat hangs over the square. The barracks are deserted. Everything sleeps. All one hears is the drummers practising; they have installed themselves anywhere and practise broke... | his head. "You see, we are losing the war because we can salute too well," he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up and his feet bare. He lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his eyes to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically: "Every little bean must be heard as well... | of bottles and the artilleryman spitting every now and then. We stir a bit as the door opens and Kat appears. I think I must be dreaming; he has two loaves of bread under his arm and a blood-stained sandbag full of horse-flesh in his hand. The artilleryman's pipe drops from his mouth. He feels the bread. "Real bread, b... | a good beef steak. * * We have settled ourselves on the sunny side of the hut. There is a smell of tar, of summer, and of sweaty feet. Kat sits beside me. He wants to talk. To-day we have been practising saluting because Tjaden failed to salute a major. Kat can't get it out of his head. "You see, we are losing the war ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Change at Löhne!" | Kropp | Kropp laughs suddenly and says:<|quote|>"Change at Löhne!"</|quote|>That was our corporal's favourite | potato-peeling." We indulge in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and says:<|quote|>"Change at Löhne!"</|quote|>That was our corporal's favourite game. Löhne is a railway | not pursue that line of thought any further. Those early morning hours of instruction-- "What are the parts of the 98 rifle?" --the midday hours of physical training-- "Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for potato-peeling." We indulge in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and say... | become the object of desire; out here you have a faint resemblance to home; your rooms, full of the smell of stale food, sleep, smoke, and clothes! Katczinsky paints it all in lively colours. What would we not give to be able to go back to it! But we must not pursue that line of thought any further. Those early morning... | conversation turns to drill. A picture comes before me. Burning midday in the barrack-yard. The heat hangs over the square. The barracks are deserted. Everything sleeps. All one hears is the drummers practising; they have installed themselves anywhere and practise brokenly, dully, monotonously. What a concord! Midday h... | because we can salute too well," he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up and his feet bare. He lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his eyes to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically: "Every little bean must be heard as well as seen." The two begin to argue. At the... | then. We stir a bit as the door opens and Kat appears. I think I must be dreaming; he has two loaves of bread under his arm and a blood-stained sandbag full of horse-flesh in his hand. The artilleryman's pipe drops from his mouth. He feels the bread. "Real bread, by God! and still hot too!" Kat gives no explanation. H... | there, as though following a compass, and find it. He finds everything--if it is cold, a small stove and wood, hay and straw, a table and chairs--but above all food. It is uncanny; one would think he conjured it out of the air. His masterpiece was four boxes of lobsters. Admittedly we would rather have had a good beef ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
That was our corporal's favourite game. Löhne is a railway junction. In order that our fellows going on leave shouldn't get lost there, Himmelstoss used to practise the change in the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subway. The beds represented the subway ... | No speaker | and says: "Change at Löhne!"<|quote|>That was our corporal's favourite game. Löhne is a railway junction. In order that our fellows going on leave shouldn't get lost there, Himmelstoss used to practise the change in the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subw... | in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and says: "Change at Löhne!"<|quote|>That was our corporal's favourite game. Löhne is a railway junction. In order that our fellows going on leave shouldn't get lost there, Himmelstoss used to practise the change in the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the ... | line of thought any further. Those early morning hours of instruction-- "What are the parts of the 98 rifle?" --the midday hours of physical training-- "Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for potato-peeling." We indulge in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and says: "Change at Lö... | of desire; out here you have a faint resemblance to home; your rooms, full of the smell of stale food, sleep, smoke, and clothes! Katczinsky paints it all in lively colours. What would we not give to be able to go back to it! But we must not pursue that line of thought any further. Those early morning hours of instruct... | drill. A picture comes before me. Burning midday in the barrack-yard. The heat hangs over the square. The barracks are deserted. Everything sleeps. All one hears is the drummers practising; they have installed themselves anywhere and practise brokenly, dully, monotonously. What a concord! Midday heat, barrack-square, a... | salute too well," he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up and his feet bare. He lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his eyes to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically: "Every little bean must be heard as well as seen." The two begin to argue. At the same time they... | a bit as the door opens and Kat appears. I think I must be dreaming; he has two loaves of bread under his arm and a blood-stained sandbag full of horse-flesh in his hand. The artilleryman's pipe drops from his mouth. He feels the bread. "Real bread, by God! and still hot too!" Kat gives no explanation. He has the brea... | tough. It should be boiled first in a little water. With our knives we squat round in a circle and fill our bellies. That is Kat. If for but one hour in a year something eatable were to be had in some one place only, within that hour, as if moved by a vision, he would put on his cap, go out and walk directly there, as ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Change at Löhne!" | Himmelstoss | bed. Then came the command:<|quote|>"Change at Löhne!"</|quote|>and like lightning everyone scrambled | the left side of his bed. Then came the command:<|quote|>"Change at Löhne!"</|quote|>and like lightning everyone scrambled under the bed to the | lost there, Himmelstoss used to practise the change in the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subway. The beds represented the subway and each man stood at attention on the left side of his bed. Then came the command:<|quote|>"Change at Löhne!"</|quote|>and lik... | hours of physical training-- "Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for potato-peeling." We indulge in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and says: "Change at Löhne!" That was our corporal's favourite game. Löhne is a railway junction. In order that our fellows going on leave should... | and one looks toward them longingly. O dark, musty platoon huts, with the iron bedsteads, the chequered bedding, the lockers and the stools! Even you can become the object of desire; out here you have a faint resemblance to home; your rooms, full of the smell of stale food, sleep, smoke, and clothes! Katczinsky paints ... | an air-fight that's going on above us. Katczinsky won't budge from the opinion, which as an old Front-hog, he rhymes: Give 'em all the same grub and all the same pay And the war would be over and done in a day. Kropp on the other hand is a thinker. He proposes that a declaration of war should be a kind of popular festi... | planted down in the middle of the desert, in half an hour he would have gathered together a supper of roast meat, dates, and wine. "Cut some wood," he says curtly to Haie. Then he hauls out a frying-pan from under his coat, and a handful of salt as well as a lump of fat from his pocket. He has thought of everything. ... | are cool and one looks toward them longingly. O dark, musty platoon huts, with the iron bedsteads, the chequered bedding, the lockers and the stools! Even you can become the object of desire; out here you have a faint resemblance to home; your rooms, full of the smell of stale food, sleep, smoke, and clothes! Katczinsk... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
and like lightning everyone scrambled under the bed to the opposite side. We practised this for a whole hour---- Meanwhile the German aeroplane has been shot down. Like a comet it bursts into a streamer of smoke and falls headlong. Kropp has lost the bottle of beer. Disgruntled he counts out the money from his wal... | No speaker | the command: "Change at Löhne!"<|quote|>and like lightning everyone scrambled under the bed to the opposite side. We practised this for a whole hour---- Meanwhile the German aeroplane has been shot down. Like a comet it bursts into a streamer of smoke and falls headlong. Kropp has lost the bottle of beer. Disgrunt... | of his bed. Then came the command: "Change at Löhne!"<|quote|>and like lightning everyone scrambled under the bed to the opposite side. We practised this for a whole hour---- Meanwhile the German aeroplane has been shot down. Like a comet it bursts into a streamer of smoke and falls headlong. Kropp has lost the bot... | used to practise the change in the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subway. The beds represented the subway and each man stood at attention on the left side of his bed. Then came the command: "Change at Löhne!"<|quote|>and like lightning everyone scrambled un... | training-- "Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for potato-peeling." We indulge in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and says: "Change at Löhne!" That was our corporal's favourite game. Löhne is a railway junction. In order that our fellows going on leave shouldn't get lost there... | toward them longingly. O dark, musty platoon huts, with the iron bedsteads, the chequered bedding, the lockers and the stools! Even you can become the object of desire; out here you have a faint resemblance to home; your rooms, full of the smell of stale food, sleep, smoke, and clothes! Katczinsky paints it all in live... | going on above us. Katczinsky won't budge from the opinion, which as an old Front-hog, he rhymes: Give 'em all the same grub and all the same pay And the war would be over and done in a day. Kropp on the other hand is a thinker. He proposes that a declaration of war should be a kind of popular festival with entrance-ti... | the middle of the desert, in half an hour he would have gathered together a supper of roast meat, dates, and wine. "Cut some wood," he says curtly to Haie. Then he hauls out a frying-pan from under his coat, and a handful of salt as well as a lump of fat from his pocket. He has thought of everything. Haie makes a fi... | bare. He lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his eyes to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically: "Every little bean must be heard as well as seen." The two begin to argue. At the same time they lay a bottle of beer on the result of an air-fight that's going on above us. Katczinsk... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman," | Paul | the money from his wallet.<|quote|>"Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman,"</|quote|>say I, after Albert's disappointment | beer. Disgruntled he counts out the money from his wallet.<|quote|>"Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman,"</|quote|>say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided. "Then how does | the bed to the opposite side. We practised this for a whole hour---- Meanwhile the German aeroplane has been shot down. Like a comet it bursts into a streamer of smoke and falls headlong. Kropp has lost the bottle of beer. Disgruntled he counts out the money from his wallet.<|quote|>"Surely Himmelstoss was a very diffe... | the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subway. The beds represented the subway and each man stood at attention on the left side of his bed. Then came the command: "Change at Löhne!" and like lightning everyone scrambled under the bed to the opposite side. We p... | colours. What would we not give to be able to go back to it! But we must not pursue that line of thought any further. Those early morning hours of instruction-- "What are the parts of the 98 rifle?" --the midday hours of physical training-- "Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for pot... | a kind of popular festival with entrance-tickets and bands, like a bull fight. Then in the arena the ministers and generals of the two countries, dressed in bathing-drawers and armed with clubs, can have it out among themselves. Whoever survives, his country wins. That would be much simpler and more just than this arra... | has thought of everything. Haie makes a fire on the floor. It lights up the empty room of the factory. We climb out of bed. The artilleryman hesitates. He wonders whether to praise Kat and so perhaps gain a little for himself. But Katczinsky doesn't even see him, he might as well be thin air. He goes off cursing. Kat k... | lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his eyes to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically: "Every little bean must be heard as well as seen." The two begin to argue. At the same time they lay a bottle of beer on the result of an air-fight that's going on above us. Katczinsky won't b... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided. | No speaker | different fellow as a postman,"<|quote|>say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided.</|quote|>"Then how does it come | "Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman,"<|quote|>say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided.</|quote|>"Then how does it come that he's such a bully | a whole hour---- Meanwhile the German aeroplane has been shot down. Like a comet it bursts into a streamer of smoke and falls headlong. Kropp has lost the bottle of beer. Disgruntled he counts out the money from his wallet. "Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman,"<|quote|>say I, after Albert's dis... | reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subway. The beds represented the subway and each man stood at attention on the left side of his bed. Then came the command: "Change at Löhne!" and like lightning everyone scrambled under the bed to the opposite side. We practised this for a whole hour---- Meanwhile the Ge... | go back to it! But we must not pursue that line of thought any further. Those early morning hours of instruction-- "What are the parts of the 98 rifle?" --the midday hours of physical training-- "Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for potato-peeling." We indulge in reminiscences. Kr... | a bull fight. Then in the arena the ministers and generals of the two countries, dressed in bathing-drawers and armed with clubs, can have it out among themselves. Whoever survives, his country wins. That would be much simpler and more just than this arrangement, where the wrong people do the fighting. The subject is d... | floor. It lights up the empty room of the factory. We climb out of bed. The artilleryman hesitates. He wonders whether to praise Kat and so perhaps gain a little for himself. But Katczinsky doesn't even see him, he might as well be thin air. He goes off cursing. Kat knows the way to roast horse-flesh so that it's tende... | iron bedsteads, the chequered bedding, the lockers and the stools! Even you can become the object of desire; out here you have a faint resemblance to home; your rooms, full of the smell of stale food, sleep, smoke, and clothes! Katczinsky paints it all in lively colours. What would we not give to be able to go back to ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Then how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?" | Paul | after Albert's disappointment has subsided.<|quote|>"Then how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?"</|quote|>The question revives Kropp, more | as a postman," say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided.<|quote|>"Then how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?"</|quote|>The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's | has been shot down. Like a comet it bursts into a streamer of smoke and falls headlong. Kropp has lost the bottle of beer. Disgruntled he counts out the money from his wallet. "Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman," say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided.<|quote|>"Then how does it come... | a subway. The beds represented the subway and each man stood at attention on the left side of his bed. Then came the command: "Change at Löhne!" and like lightning everyone scrambled under the bed to the opposite side. We practised this for a whole hour---- Meanwhile the German aeroplane has been shot down. Like a c... | not pursue that line of thought any further. Those early morning hours of instruction-- "What are the parts of the 98 rifle?" --the midday hours of physical training-- "Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for potato-peeling." We indulge in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and say... | the ministers and generals of the two countries, dressed in bathing-drawers and armed with clubs, can have it out among themselves. Whoever survives, his country wins. That would be much simpler and more just than this arrangement, where the wrong people do the fighting. The subject is dropped. Then the conversation tu... | of the factory. We climb out of bed. The artilleryman hesitates. He wonders whether to praise Kat and so perhaps gain a little for himself. But Katczinsky doesn't even see him, he might as well be thin air. He goes off cursing. Kat knows the way to roast horse-flesh so that it's tender. It shouldn't be put straight int... | Kat can't get it out of his head. "You see, we are losing the war because we can salute too well," he says. Kropp stalks up, with his breeches rolled up and his feet bare. He lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his eyes to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically: "Every little be... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. | No speaker | a bully as a drill-sergeant?"<|quote|>The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen.</|quote|>"It's not only Himmelstoss, there | it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?"<|quote|>The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen.</|quote|>"It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As | smoke and falls headlong. Kropp has lost the bottle of beer. Disgruntled he counts out the money from his wallet. "Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman," say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided. "Then how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?"<|quote|>The question rev... | on the left side of his bed. Then came the command: "Change at Löhne!" and like lightning everyone scrambled under the bed to the opposite side. We practised this for a whole hour---- Meanwhile the German aeroplane has been shot down. Like a comet it bursts into a streamer of smoke and falls headlong. Kropp has los... | instruction-- "What are the parts of the 98 rifle?" --the midday hours of physical training-- "Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for potato-peeling." We indulge in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and says: "Change at Löhne!" That was our corporal's favourite game. Löhne is a ... | with clubs, can have it out among themselves. Whoever survives, his country wins. That would be much simpler and more just than this arrangement, where the wrong people do the fighting. The subject is dropped. Then the conversation turns to drill. A picture comes before me. Burning midday in the barrack-yard. The heat ... | whether to praise Kat and so perhaps gain a little for himself. But Katczinsky doesn't even see him, he might as well be thin air. He goes off cursing. Kat knows the way to roast horse-flesh so that it's tender. It shouldn't be put straight into the pan, that makes it tough. It should be boiled first in a little water.... | and armed with clubs, can have it out among themselves. Whoever survives, his country wins. That would be much simpler and more just than this arrangement, where the wrong people do the fighting. The subject is dropped. Then the conversation turns to drill. A picture comes before me. Burning midday in the barrack-yard.... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." | Kropp | more beer in the canteen.<|quote|>"It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete."</|quote|>"That's the uniform," I suggest. | as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen.<|quote|>"It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete."</|quote|>"That's the uniform," I suggest. "Roughly speaking it is," says | money from his wallet. "Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman," say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided. "Then how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?" The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen.<|quote|>"It's not on... | lightning everyone scrambled under the bed to the opposite side. We practised this for a whole hour---- Meanwhile the German aeroplane has been shot down. Like a comet it bursts into a streamer of smoke and falls headlong. Kropp has lost the bottle of beer. Disgruntled he counts out the money from his wallet. "Surely H... | forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for potato-peeling." We indulge in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and says: "Change at Löhne!" That was our corporal's favourite game. Löhne is a railway junction. In order that our fellows going on leave shouldn't get lost there, Himmelstoss used to ... | much simpler and more just than this arrangement, where the wrong people do the fighting. The subject is dropped. Then the conversation turns to drill. A picture comes before me. Burning midday in the barrack-yard. The heat hangs over the square. The barracks are deserted. Everything sleeps. All one hears is the drumme... | see him, he might as well be thin air. He goes off cursing. Kat knows the way to roast horse-flesh so that it's tender. It shouldn't be put straight into the pan, that makes it tough. It should be boiled first in a little water. With our knives we squat round in a circle and fill our bellies. That is Kat. If for but on... | a mighty fart, and says apologetically: "Every little bean must be heard as well as seen." The two begin to argue. At the same time they lay a bottle of beer on the result of an air-fight that's going on above us. Katczinsky won't budge from the opinion, which as an old Front-hog, he rhymes: Give 'em all the same ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"That's the uniform," | Paul | as though they'd swallowed concrete."<|quote|>"That's the uniform,"</|quote|>I suggest. "Roughly speaking it | they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete."<|quote|>"That's the uniform,"</|quote|>I suggest. "Roughly speaking it is," says Kat, and prepares | a bully as a drill-sergeant?" The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete."<|quote|>"That's the uniform,"</|q... | bursts into a streamer of smoke and falls headlong. Kropp has lost the bottle of beer. Disgruntled he counts out the money from his wallet. "Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman," say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided. "Then how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?... | game. Löhne is a railway junction. In order that our fellows going on leave shouldn't get lost there, Himmelstoss used to practise the change in the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subway. The beds represented the subway and each man stood at attention on th... | me. Burning midday in the barrack-yard. The heat hangs over the square. The barracks are deserted. Everything sleeps. All one hears is the drummers practising; they have installed themselves anywhere and practise brokenly, dully, monotonously. What a concord! Midday heat, barrack-square, and drummers beating! The windo... | into the pan, that makes it tough. It should be boiled first in a little water. With our knives we squat round in a circle and fill our bellies. That is Kat. If for but one hour in a year something eatable were to be had in some one place only, within that hour, as if moved by a vision, he would put on his cap, go out ... | them trousers are hanging to dry. The rooms are cool and one looks toward them longingly. O dark, musty platoon huts, with the iron bedsteads, the chequered bedding, the lockers and the stools! Even you can become the object of desire; out here you have a faint resemblance to home; your rooms, full of the smell of stal... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I suggest. | No speaker | swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform,"<|quote|>I suggest.</|quote|>"Roughly speaking it is," says | men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform,"<|quote|>I suggest.</|quote|>"Roughly speaking it is," says Kat, and prepares for a | a drill-sergeant?" The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform,"<|quote|>I suggest.</|q... | streamer of smoke and falls headlong. Kropp has lost the bottle of beer. Disgruntled he counts out the money from his wallet. "Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman," say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided. "Then how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?" The question... | a railway junction. In order that our fellows going on leave shouldn't get lost there, Himmelstoss used to practise the change in the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subway. The beds represented the subway and each man stood at attention on the left side of ... | in the barrack-yard. The heat hangs over the square. The barracks are deserted. Everything sleeps. All one hears is the drummers practising; they have installed themselves anywhere and practise brokenly, dully, monotonously. What a concord! Midday heat, barrack-square, and drummers beating! The windows of the barracks ... | that makes it tough. It should be boiled first in a little water. With our knives we squat round in a circle and fill our bellies. That is Kat. If for but one hour in a year something eatable were to be had in some one place only, within that hour, as if moved by a vision, he would put on his cap, go out and walk direc... | 'em all the same grub and all the same pay And the war would be over and done in a day. Kropp on the other hand is a thinker. He proposes that a declaration of war should be a kind of popular festival with entrance-tickets and bands, like a bull fight. Then in the arena the ministers and generals of the two countries, ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Roughly speaking it is," | Katczinsky | "That's the uniform," I suggest.<|quote|>"Roughly speaking it is,"</|quote|>says Kat, and prepares for | as though they'd swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform," I suggest.<|quote|>"Roughly speaking it is,"</|quote|>says Kat, and prepares for a long speech; "but the | The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform," I suggest.<|quote|>"Roughly speaking it i... | smoke and falls headlong. Kropp has lost the bottle of beer. Disgruntled he counts out the money from his wallet. "Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman," say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided. "Then how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?" The question revives Kro... | junction. In order that our fellows going on leave shouldn't get lost there, Himmelstoss used to practise the change in the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subway. The beds represented the subway and each man stood at attention on the left side of his bed. T... | barrack-yard. The heat hangs over the square. The barracks are deserted. Everything sleeps. All one hears is the drummers practising; they have installed themselves anywhere and practise brokenly, dully, monotonously. What a concord! Midday heat, barrack-square, and drummers beating! The windows of the barracks are emp... | it tough. It should be boiled first in a little water. With our knives we squat round in a circle and fill our bellies. That is Kat. If for but one hour in a year something eatable were to be had in some one place only, within that hour, as if moved by a vision, he would put on his cap, go out and walk directly there, ... | windows of the barracks are empty and dark. From some of them trousers are hanging to dry. The rooms are cool and one looks toward them longingly. O dark, musty platoon huts, with the iron bedsteads, the chequered bedding, the lockers and the stools! Even you can become the object of desire; out here you have a faint r... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
says Kat, and prepares for a long speech; | No speaker | suggest. "Roughly speaking it is,"<|quote|>says Kat, and prepares for a long speech;</|quote|>"but the root of the | concrete." "That's the uniform," I suggest. "Roughly speaking it is,"<|quote|>says Kat, and prepares for a long speech;</|quote|>"but the root of the matter lies elsewhere. For instance, | more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform," I suggest. "Roughly speaking it is,"<|quote|>says Kat, and prepares f... | Kropp has lost the bottle of beer. Disgruntled he counts out the money from his wallet. "Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman," say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided. "Then how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?" The question revives Kropp, more particularly as h... | our fellows going on leave shouldn't get lost there, Himmelstoss used to practise the change in the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subway. The beds represented the subway and each man stood at attention on the left side of his bed. Then came the command: "C... | over the square. The barracks are deserted. Everything sleeps. All one hears is the drummers practising; they have installed themselves anywhere and practise brokenly, dully, monotonously. What a concord! Midday heat, barrack-square, and drummers beating! The windows of the barracks are empty and dark. From some of the... | be boiled first in a little water. With our knives we squat round in a circle and fill our bellies. That is Kat. If for but one hour in a year something eatable were to be had in some one place only, within that hour, as if moved by a vision, he would put on his cap, go out and walk directly there, as though following ... | bare. He lays out his washed socks to dry on the grass. Kat turns his eyes to heaven, lets off a mighty fart, and says apologetically: "Every little bean must be heard as well as seen." The two begin to argue. At the same time they lay a bottle of beer on the result of an air-fight that's going on above us. Katczinsk... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"but the root of the matter lies elsewhere. For instance, if you train a dog to eat potatoes and then afterwards put a piece of meat in front of him, he'll snap at it, it's his nature. And if you give a man a little bit of authority he behaves just the same way, he snaps at it too. The things are precisely the same.... | Katczinsky | prepares for a long speech;<|quote|>"but the root of the matter lies elsewhere. For instance, if you train a dog to eat potatoes and then afterwards put a piece of meat in front of him, he'll snap at it, it's his nature. And if you give a man a little bit of authority he behaves just the same way, he snaps at it too.... | it is," says Kat, and prepares for a long speech;<|quote|>"but the root of the matter lies elsewhere. For instance, if you train a dog to eat potatoes and then afterwards put a piece of meat in front of him, he'll snap at it, it's his nature. And if you give a man a little bit of authority he behaves just the same wa... | beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform," I suggest. "Roughly speaking it is," says Kat, and prepares for a long speech;<|quote|>"but the root of the matter ... | he counts out the money from his wallet. "Surely Himmelstoss was a very different fellow as a postman," say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided. "Then how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?" The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "I... | there, Himmelstoss used to practise the change in the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subway. The beds represented the subway and each man stood at attention on the left side of his bed. Then came the command: "Change at Löhne!" and like lightning everyone s... | sleeps. All one hears is the drummers practising; they have installed themselves anywhere and practise brokenly, dully, monotonously. What a concord! Midday heat, barrack-square, and drummers beating! The windows of the barracks are empty and dark. From some of them trousers are hanging to dry. The rooms are cool and o... | our knives we squat round in a circle and fill our bellies. That is Kat. If for but one hour in a year something eatable were to be had in some one place only, within that hour, as if moved by a vision, he would put on his cap, go out and walk directly there, as though following a compass, and find it. He finds everyth... | conversation turns to drill. A picture comes before me. Burning midday in the barrack-yard. The heat hangs over the square. The barracks are deserted. Everything sleeps. All one hears is the drummers practising; they have installed themselves anywhere and practise brokenly, dully, monotonously. What a concord! Midday h... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"They say, of course, there must be discipline," | Kropp | the worse it takes him."<|quote|>"They say, of course, there must be discipline,"</|quote|>ventures Kropp meditatively. "True," growls | has been in civil life the worse it takes him."<|quote|>"They say, of course, there must be discipline,"</|quote|>ventures Kropp meditatively. "True," growls Kat, "they always do. And | is there in which he can behave like that without getting a crack on the nose? He can only do that in the army. It goes to the heads of them all, you see. And the more insignificant a man has been in civil life the worse it takes him."<|quote|>"They say, of course, there must be discipline,"</|quote|>ventures Kropp med... | turned by having so much power. And nobody blames him. On the contrary, he is praised for being strict. That, of course, is only a trifling instance, but it holds also in very different affairs. Now I ask you: Let a man be whatever you like in peace-time, what occupation is there in which he can behave like that withou... | lieutenant, until he goes mad. And because they know they can, they all soon acquire the habit more or less. Take a simple case: we are marching back from the parade-ground dog-tired. Then comes the order to sing. We are glad enough to be able to trail arms but we sing spiritlessly. At once the company is turned about ... | how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?" The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." "... | ministers and generals of the two countries, dressed in bathing-drawers and armed with clubs, can have it out among themselves. Whoever survives, his country wins. That would be much simpler and more just than this arrangement, where the wrong people do the fighting. The subject is dropped. Then the conversation turns ... | at Löhne!" That was our corporal's favourite game. Löhne is a railway junction. In order that our fellows going on leave shouldn't get lost there, Himmelstoss used to practise the change in the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subway. The beds represented ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
ventures Kropp meditatively. | No speaker | course, there must be discipline,"<|quote|>ventures Kropp meditatively.</|quote|>"True," growls Kat, "they always | takes him." "They say, of course, there must be discipline,"<|quote|>ventures Kropp meditatively.</|quote|>"True," growls Kat, "they always do. And it may be | that without getting a crack on the nose? He can only do that in the army. It goes to the heads of them all, you see. And the more insignificant a man has been in civil life the worse it takes him." "They say, of course, there must be discipline,"<|quote|>ventures Kropp meditatively.</|quote|>"True," growls Kat, "they ... | blames him. On the contrary, he is praised for being strict. That, of course, is only a trifling instance, but it holds also in very different affairs. Now I ask you: Let a man be whatever you like in peace-time, what occupation is there in which he can behave like that without getting a crack on the nose? He can only ... | know they can, they all soon acquire the habit more or less. Take a simple case: we are marching back from the parade-ground dog-tired. Then comes the order to sing. We are glad enough to be able to trail arms but we sing spiritlessly. At once the company is turned about and has to do another hour's drill as punishment... | bully as a drill-sergeant?" The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform," I suggest. "R... | in bathing-drawers and armed with clubs, can have it out among themselves. Whoever survives, his country wins. That would be much simpler and more just than this arrangement, where the wrong people do the fighting. The subject is dropped. Then the conversation turns to drill. A picture comes before me. Burning midday i... | them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform," I suggest. "Roughly speaking it is," says Kat, and prepares for a long speech; "but the root of the matter lies elsewhere. For instance, if you train a dog to eat potatoes and then a... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"True," | Katczinsky | be discipline," ventures Kropp meditatively.<|quote|>"True,"</|quote|>growls Kat, "they always do. | say, of course, there must be discipline," ventures Kropp meditatively.<|quote|>"True,"</|quote|>growls Kat, "they always do. And it may be so; | a crack on the nose? He can only do that in the army. It goes to the heads of them all, you see. And the more insignificant a man has been in civil life the worse it takes him." "They say, of course, there must be discipline," ventures Kropp meditatively.<|quote|>"True,"</|quote|>growls Kat, "they always do. And it may... | the contrary, he is praised for being strict. That, of course, is only a trifling instance, but it holds also in very different affairs. Now I ask you: Let a man be whatever you like in peace-time, what occupation is there in which he can behave like that without getting a crack on the nose? He can only do that in the ... | they all soon acquire the habit more or less. Take a simple case: we are marching back from the parade-ground dog-tired. Then comes the order to sing. We are glad enough to be able to trail arms but we sing spiritlessly. At once the company is turned about and has to do another hour's drill as punishment. On the march ... | drill-sergeant?" The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform," I suggest. "Roughly spea... | armed with clubs, can have it out among themselves. Whoever survives, his country wins. That would be much simpler and more just than this arrangement, where the wrong people do the fighting. The subject is dropped. Then the conversation turns to drill. A picture comes before me. Burning midday in the barrack-yard. The... | different fellow as a postman," say I, after Albert's disappointment has subsided. "Then how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?" The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
growls Kat, | No speaker | discipline," ventures Kropp meditatively. "True,"<|quote|>growls Kat,</|quote|>"they always do. And it | of course, there must be discipline," ventures Kropp meditatively. "True,"<|quote|>growls Kat,</|quote|>"they always do. And it may be so; still it | crack on the nose? He can only do that in the army. It goes to the heads of them all, you see. And the more insignificant a man has been in civil life the worse it takes him." "They say, of course, there must be discipline," ventures Kropp meditatively. "True,"<|quote|>growls Kat,</|quote|>"they always do. And it may b... | contrary, he is praised for being strict. That, of course, is only a trifling instance, but it holds also in very different affairs. Now I ask you: Let a man be whatever you like in peace-time, what occupation is there in which he can behave like that without getting a crack on the nose? He can only do that in the army... | all soon acquire the habit more or less. Take a simple case: we are marching back from the parade-ground dog-tired. Then comes the order to sing. We are glad enough to be able to trail arms but we sing spiritlessly. At once the company is turned about and has to do another hour's drill as punishment. On the march back ... | The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform," I suggest. "Roughly speaking it is," says... | with clubs, can have it out among themselves. Whoever survives, his country wins. That would be much simpler and more just than this arrangement, where the wrong people do the fighting. The subject is dropped. Then the conversation turns to drill. A picture comes before me. Burning midday in the barrack-yard. The heat ... | lies elsewhere. For instance, if you train a dog to eat potatoes and then afterwards put a piece of meat in front of him, he'll snap at it, it's his nature. And if you give a man a little bit of authority he behaves just the same way, he snaps at it too. The things are precisely the same. In himself man is essentially ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"they always do. And it may be so; still it oughtn't to become an abuse. But you try to explain that to a blacksmith or a labourer or a workman, you try to make that clear to a simple tommy--and that's what most of them are here. All he understands is that he has been properly trained so that when he comes up to the... | Katczinsky | Kropp meditatively. "True," growls Kat,<|quote|>"they always do. And it may be so; still it oughtn't to become an abuse. But you try to explain that to a blacksmith or a labourer or a workman, you try to make that clear to a simple tommy--and that's what most of them are here. All he understands is that he has been ... | there must be discipline," ventures Kropp meditatively. "True," growls Kat,<|quote|>"they always do. And it may be so; still it oughtn't to become an abuse. But you try to explain that to a blacksmith or a labourer or a workman, you try to make that clear to a simple tommy--and that's what most of them are here. All... | the nose? He can only do that in the army. It goes to the heads of them all, you see. And the more insignificant a man has been in civil life the worse it takes him." "They say, of course, there must be discipline," ventures Kropp meditatively. "True," growls Kat,<|quote|>"they always do. And it may be so; still it ou... | is praised for being strict. That, of course, is only a trifling instance, but it holds also in very different affairs. Now I ask you: Let a man be whatever you like in peace-time, what occupation is there in which he can behave like that without getting a crack on the nose? He can only do that in the army. It goes to ... | acquire the habit more or less. Take a simple case: we are marching back from the parade-ground dog-tired. Then comes the order to sing. We are glad enough to be able to trail arms but we sing spiritlessly. At once the company is turned about and has to do another hour's drill as punishment. On the march back the order... | revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform," I suggest. "Roughly speaking it is," says Kat, and pre... | can have it out among themselves. Whoever survives, his country wins. That would be much simpler and more just than this arrangement, where the wrong people do the fighting. The subject is dropped. Then the conversation turns to drill. A picture comes before me. Burning midday in the barrack-yard. The heat hangs over t... | know they can, they all soon acquire the habit more or less. Take a simple case: we are marching back from the parade-ground dog-tired. Then comes the order to sing. We are glad enough to be able to trail arms but we sing spiritlessly. At once the company is turned about and has to do another hour's drill as punishment... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
No one protests. Everyone knows that drill ceases only in the front-line and begins again a few miles behind, with all the absurdities of saluting and parade. It is an iron law that the soldier must be employed under every circumstance. Here Tjaden comes up with a flushed face. He is so excited that he stutters. B... | No speaker | in the front-line. Simply amazing!"<|quote|>No one protests. Everyone knows that drill ceases only in the front-line and begins again a few miles behind, with all the absurdities of saluting and parade. It is an iron law that the soldier must be employed under every circumstance. Here Tjaden comes up with a flushed ... | survives so long up here in the front-line. Simply amazing!"<|quote|>No one protests. Everyone knows that drill ceases only in the front-line and begins again a few miles behind, with all the absurdities of saluting and parade. It is an iron law that the soldier must be employed under every circumstance. Here Tjaden... | that he has been properly trained so that when he comes up to the front he thinks he knows exactly what he should do in every circumstance and what not. It's simply amazing, I tell you, that the ordinary soldier survives so long up here in the front-line. Simply amazing!"<|quote|>No one protests. Everyone knows that d... | always do. And it may be so; still it oughtn't to become an abuse. But you try to explain that to a blacksmith or a labourer or a workman, you try to make that clear to a simple tommy--and that's what most of them are here. All he understands is that he has been properly trained so that when he comes up to the front he... | praised for being strict. That, of course, is only a trifling instance, but it holds also in very different affairs. Now I ask you: Let a man be whatever you like in peace-time, what occupation is there in which he can behave like that without getting a crack on the nose? He can only do that in the army. It goes to the... | a man a little bit of authority he behaves just the same way, he snaps at it too. The things are precisely the same. In himself man is essentially a beast, only he butters it over like a slice of bread with a little decorum. The army is based on that; one man must always have power over the other. The mischief is merel... | are hanging to dry. The rooms are cool and one looks toward them longingly. O dark, musty platoon huts, with the iron bedsteads, the chequered bedding, the lockers and the stools! Even you can become the object of desire; out here you have a faint resemblance to home; your rooms, full of the smell of stale food, sleep,... | bully as a drill-sergeant?" The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concrete." "That's the uniform," I suggest. "R... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Himmelstoss is on his way. He's coming to the front!" | Tjaden | with satisfaction he stammers out:<|quote|>"Himmelstoss is on his way. He's coming to the front!"</|quote|>* * Tjaden has a | excited that he stutters. Beaming with satisfaction he stammers out:<|quote|>"Himmelstoss is on his way. He's coming to the front!"</|quote|>* * Tjaden has a special grudge against Himmelstoss, because | and begins again a few miles behind, with all the absurdities of saluting and parade. It is an iron law that the soldier must be employed under every circumstance. Here Tjaden comes up with a flushed face. He is so excited that he stutters. Beaming with satisfaction he stammers out:<|quote|>"Himmelstoss is on his way. ... | to the front he thinks he knows exactly what he should do in every circumstance and what not. It's simply amazing, I tell you, that the ordinary soldier survives so long up here in the front-line. Simply amazing!" No one protests. Everyone knows that drill ceases only in the front-line and begins again a few miles beh... | the heads of them all, you see. And the more insignificant a man has been in civil life the worse it takes him." "They say, of course, there must be discipline," ventures Kropp meditatively. "True," growls Kat, "they always do. And it may be so; still it oughtn't to become an abuse. But you try to explain that to a b... | is merely that each one has much too much power. A non-com. can torment a private, a lieutenant a non-com., a captain a lieutenant, until he goes mad. And because they know they can, they all soon acquire the habit more or less. Take a simple case: we are marching back from the parade-ground dog-tired. Then comes the o... | paints it all in lively colours. What would we not give to be able to go back to it! But we must not pursue that line of thought any further. Those early morning hours of instruction-- "What are the parts of the 98 rifle?" --the midday hours of physical training-- "Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report t... | do that in the army. It goes to the heads of them all, you see. And the more insignificant a man has been in civil life the worse it takes him." "They say, of course, there must be discipline," ventures Kropp meditatively. "True," growls Kat, "they always do. And it may be so; still it oughtn't to become an abuse. Bu... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
* * Tjaden has a special grudge against Himmelstoss, because of the way he educated him in the barracks. Tjaden wets his bed, he does it at night in his sleep. Himmelstoss maintained that it was sheer laziness and invented a method worthy of himself for curing Tjaden. He hunted up another piss-a-bed, named Kinderva... | No speaker | He's coming to the front!"<|quote|>* * Tjaden has a special grudge against Himmelstoss, because of the way he educated him in the barracks. Tjaden wets his bed, he does it at night in his sleep. Himmelstoss maintained that it was sheer laziness and invented a method worthy of himself for curing Tjaden. He hunted up... | "Himmelstoss is on his way. He's coming to the front!"<|quote|>* * Tjaden has a special grudge against Himmelstoss, because of the way he educated him in the barracks. Tjaden wets his bed, he does it at night in his sleep. Himmelstoss maintained that it was sheer laziness and invented a method worthy of himself for... | absurdities of saluting and parade. It is an iron law that the soldier must be employed under every circumstance. Here Tjaden comes up with a flushed face. He is so excited that he stutters. Beaming with satisfaction he stammers out: "Himmelstoss is on his way. He's coming to the front!"<|quote|>* * Tjaden has a spec... | should do in every circumstance and what not. It's simply amazing, I tell you, that the ordinary soldier survives so long up here in the front-line. Simply amazing!" No one protests. Everyone knows that drill ceases only in the front-line and begins again a few miles behind, with all the absurdities of saluting and pa... | insignificant a man has been in civil life the worse it takes him." "They say, of course, there must be discipline," ventures Kropp meditatively. "True," growls Kat, "they always do. And it may be so; still it oughtn't to become an abuse. But you try to explain that to a blacksmith or a labourer or a workman, you try... | A non-com. can torment a private, a lieutenant a non-com., a captain a lieutenant, until he goes mad. And because they know they can, they all soon acquire the habit more or less. Take a simple case: we are marching back from the parade-ground dog-tired. Then comes the order to sing. We are glad enough to be able to tr... | give to be able to go back to it! But we must not pursue that line of thought any further. Those early morning hours of instruction-- "What are the parts of the 98 rifle?" --the midday hours of physical training-- "Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for potato-peeling." We indulge in... | "Then how does it come that he's such a bully as a drill-sergeant?" The question revives Kropp, more particularly as he hears there's no more beer in the canteen. "It's not only Himmelstoss, there are lots of them. As sure as they get a stripe or a star they become different men, just as though they'd swallowed concre... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Get up!" | Himmelstoss | flew open and he bawled:<|quote|>"Get up!"</|quote|>"Alone?" whispered Kropp. "Alone." I | the mornings as the door flew open and he bawled:<|quote|>"Get up!"</|quote|>"Alone?" whispered Kropp. "Alone." I slipped round the pile of | waited for him behind a pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled with suspense, hoping he would be alone. At last we heard his footstep, which we recognized easily, so often had we heard it in the mornings as the door flew open and he bawled:<|quote|>"Get up!"</|quote|>"Alone?" whispered Kropp. "Alone." I... | to give him a good hiding. What could he do to us anyhow if he didn't recognize us and we left early the next morning? We knew which pub he used to visit every evening. Returning to the barracks he had to go along a dark, uninhabited road. There we waited for him behind a pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We t... | were due to leave next morning early. In the evening we prepared ourselves to square accounts with Himmelstoss. We had sworn for weeks past to do this. Kropp had even gone so far as to propose entering the postal service in peace-time in order to be Himmelstoss's superior when he became a postman again. He revelled in ... | He hunted up another piss-a-bed, named Kindervater, from a neighbouring hut, and quartered him with Tjaden. In the huts there were the usual bunks, one above the other in pairs, with mattresses of wire-netting. Himmelstoss put these two so that one occupied the upper and the other the lower bunk. The man underneath was... | order to sing. We are glad enough to be able to trail arms but we sing spiritlessly. At once the company is turned about and has to do another hour's drill as punishment. On the march back the order to sing is given again, and once more we start. Now what's the use of all that? It's simply that the company commander's ... | that the soldier must be employed under every circumstance. Here Tjaden comes up with a flushed face. He is so excited that he stutters. Beaming with satisfaction he stammers out: "Himmelstoss is on his way. He's coming to the front!" * * Tjaden has a special grudge against Himmelstoss, because of the way he educated... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Alone?" | Kropp | and he bawled: "Get up!"<|quote|>"Alone?"</|quote|>whispered Kropp. "Alone." I slipped | as the door flew open and he bawled: "Get up!"<|quote|>"Alone?"</|quote|>whispered Kropp. "Alone." I slipped round the pile of stones | him behind a pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled with suspense, hoping he would be alone. At last we heard his footstep, which we recognized easily, so often had we heard it in the mornings as the door flew open and he bawled: "Get up!"<|quote|>"Alone?"</|quote|>whispered Kropp. "Alone." I slipped ro... | him a good hiding. What could he do to us anyhow if he didn't recognize us and we left early the next morning? We knew which pub he used to visit every evening. Returning to the barracks he had to go along a dark, uninhabited road. There we waited for him behind a pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled ... | to leave next morning early. In the evening we prepared ourselves to square accounts with Himmelstoss. We had sworn for weeks past to do this. Kropp had even gone so far as to propose entering the postal service in peace-time in order to be Himmelstoss's superior when he became a postman again. He revelled in the thoug... | up another piss-a-bed, named Kindervater, from a neighbouring hut, and quartered him with Tjaden. In the huts there were the usual bunks, one above the other in pairs, with mattresses of wire-netting. Himmelstoss put these two so that one occupied the upper and the other the lower bunk. The man underneath was of course... | sing. We are glad enough to be able to trail arms but we sing spiritlessly. At once the company is turned about and has to do another hour's drill as punishment. On the march back the order to sing is given again, and once more we start. Now what's the use of all that? It's simply that the company commander's head has ... | his paws thoughtfully. We once spent the finest day of our army-life together--the day before we left for the front. We had been allotted to one of the recently formed regiments, but were first to be sent back for equipment to the garrison, not to the reinforcement-depot, of course, but to another barracks. We were due... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
whispered Kropp. | No speaker | he bawled: "Get up!" "Alone?"<|quote|>whispered Kropp.</|quote|>"Alone." I slipped round the | the door flew open and he bawled: "Get up!" "Alone?"<|quote|>whispered Kropp.</|quote|>"Alone." I slipped round the pile of stones with Tjaden. | behind a pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled with suspense, hoping he would be alone. At last we heard his footstep, which we recognized easily, so often had we heard it in the mornings as the door flew open and he bawled: "Get up!" "Alone?"<|quote|>whispered Kropp.</|quote|>"Alone." I slipped round ... | a good hiding. What could he do to us anyhow if he didn't recognize us and we left early the next morning? We knew which pub he used to visit every evening. Returning to the barracks he had to go along a dark, uninhabited road. There we waited for him behind a pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled with... | leave next morning early. In the evening we prepared ourselves to square accounts with Himmelstoss. We had sworn for weeks past to do this. Kropp had even gone so far as to propose entering the postal service in peace-time in order to be Himmelstoss's superior when he became a postman again. He revelled in the thought ... | another piss-a-bed, named Kindervater, from a neighbouring hut, and quartered him with Tjaden. In the huts there were the usual bunks, one above the other in pairs, with mattresses of wire-netting. Himmelstoss put these two so that one occupied the upper and the other the lower bunk. The man underneath was of course di... | We are glad enough to be able to trail arms but we sing spiritlessly. At once the company is turned about and has to do another hour's drill as punishment. On the march back the order to sing is given again, and once more we start. Now what's the use of all that? It's simply that the company commander's head has been t... | the floor, where he frequently caught cold. Meanwhile Haie sits down beside us. He winks at me and rubs his paws thoughtfully. We once spent the finest day of our army-life together--the day before we left for the front. We had been allotted to one of the recently formed regiments, but were first to be sent back for eq... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Alone." | Paul | "Get up!" "Alone?" whispered Kropp.<|quote|>"Alone."</|quote|>I slipped round the pile | flew open and he bawled: "Get up!" "Alone?" whispered Kropp.<|quote|>"Alone."</|quote|>I slipped round the pile of stones with Tjaden. Himmelstoss | pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled with suspense, hoping he would be alone. At last we heard his footstep, which we recognized easily, so often had we heard it in the mornings as the door flew open and he bawled: "Get up!" "Alone?" whispered Kropp.<|quote|>"Alone."</|quote|>I slipped round the pile ... | hiding. What could he do to us anyhow if he didn't recognize us and we left early the next morning? We knew which pub he used to visit every evening. Returning to the barracks he had to go along a dark, uninhabited road. There we waited for him behind a pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled with suspen... | morning early. In the evening we prepared ourselves to square accounts with Himmelstoss. We had sworn for weeks past to do this. Kropp had even gone so far as to propose entering the postal service in peace-time in order to be Himmelstoss's superior when he became a postman again. He revelled in the thought of how he w... | named Kindervater, from a neighbouring hut, and quartered him with Tjaden. In the huts there were the usual bunks, one above the other in pairs, with mattresses of wire-netting. Himmelstoss put these two so that one occupied the upper and the other the lower bunk. The man underneath was of course disgusted. The next ni... | glad enough to be able to trail arms but we sing spiritlessly. At once the company is turned about and has to do another hour's drill as punishment. On the march back the order to sing is given again, and once more we start. Now what's the use of all that? It's simply that the company commander's head has been turned b... | was not laziness in either of them. Anyone who looked at their sallow skin could see that. The matter ended in one of them always sleeping on the floor, where he frequently caught cold. Meanwhile Haie sits down beside us. He winks at me and rubs his paws thoughtfully. We once spent the finest day of our army-life toget... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I slipped round the pile of stones with Tjaden. Himmelstoss seemed a little elevated; he was singing. His belt-buckle gleamed. He came on unsuspectingly. We seized the bed-cover, made a quick leap, threw it over his head from behind and pulled it round him so that he stood there in a white sack unable to raise his ... | No speaker | up!" "Alone?" whispered Kropp. "Alone."<|quote|>I slipped round the pile of stones with Tjaden. Himmelstoss seemed a little elevated; he was singing. His belt-buckle gleamed. He came on unsuspectingly. We seized the bed-cover, made a quick leap, threw it over his head from behind and pulled it round him so that he ... | open and he bawled: "Get up!" "Alone?" whispered Kropp. "Alone."<|quote|>I slipped round the pile of stones with Tjaden. Himmelstoss seemed a little elevated; he was singing. His belt-buckle gleamed. He came on unsuspectingly. We seized the bed-cover, made a quick leap, threw it over his head from behind and pulled... | of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled with suspense, hoping he would be alone. At last we heard his footstep, which we recognized easily, so often had we heard it in the mornings as the door flew open and he bawled: "Get up!" "Alone?" whispered Kropp. "Alone."<|quote|>I slipped round the pile of stones with... | What could he do to us anyhow if he didn't recognize us and we left early the next morning? We knew which pub he used to visit every evening. Returning to the barracks he had to go along a dark, uninhabited road. There we waited for him behind a pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled with suspense, hopi... | early. In the evening we prepared ourselves to square accounts with Himmelstoss. We had sworn for weeks past to do this. Kropp had even gone so far as to propose entering the postal service in peace-time in order to be Himmelstoss's superior when he became a postman again. He revelled in the thought of how he would gri... | Kindervater, from a neighbouring hut, and quartered him with Tjaden. In the huts there were the usual bunks, one above the other in pairs, with mattresses of wire-netting. Himmelstoss put these two so that one occupied the upper and the other the lower bunk. The man underneath was of course disgusted. The next night th... | enough to be able to trail arms but we sing spiritlessly. At once the company is turned about and has to do another hour's drill as punishment. On the march back the order to sing is given again, and once more we start. Now what's the use of all that? It's simply that the company commander's head has been turned by hav... | Unfortunately it accomplished nothing because the first assumption was wrong: it was not laziness in either of them. Anyone who looked at their sallow skin could see that. The matter ended in one of them always sleeping on the floor, where he frequently caught cold. Meanwhile Haie sits down beside us. He winks at me an... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Revenge is black-pudding." | Hale | wrathfully, satisfied and rather mysteriously:<|quote|>"Revenge is black-pudding."</|quote|>Himmelstoss ought to have been | round once again and said wrathfully, satisfied and rather mysteriously:<|quote|>"Revenge is black-pudding."</|quote|>Himmelstoss ought to have been pleased; his saying that we | him up again, made ready and fetched him a second, well-aimed beauty with the left hand. Himmelstoss yelled and fell down on all fours cursing. His striped postman's backside gleamed in the moonlight. We disappeared at full speed. Haie looked round once again and said wrathfully, satisfied and rather mysteriously:<|quo... | to get our turn. Finally Haie stood Himmelstoss on his feet again and gave one last personal remonstrance. As he stretched out his right arm preparatory to giving him a box on the ear he looked as if he were going to reach down a star. Himmelstoss staggered. Haie stood him up again, made ready and fetched him a second,... | he would give a mighty yell that was immediately hushed. Tjaden unbuttoned Himmelstoss's braces and pulled down his trousers, holding the whip meantime in his teeth. Then he stood up and set to work. It was a wonderful picture: Himmelstoss on the ground; Haie bending over him with a fiendish grin and his mouth open wit... | had we heard it in the mornings as the door flew open and he bawled: "Get up!" "Alone?" whispered Kropp. "Alone." I slipped round the pile of stones with Tjaden. Himmelstoss seemed a little elevated; he was singing. His belt-buckle gleamed. He came on unsuspectingly. We seized the bed-cover, made a quick leap, thre... | that it was sheer laziness and invented a method worthy of himself for curing Tjaden. He hunted up another piss-a-bed, named Kindervater, from a neighbouring hut, and quartered him with Tjaden. In the huts there were the usual bunks, one above the other in pairs, with mattresses of wire-netting. Himmelstoss put these t... | made a quick leap, threw it over his head from behind and pulled it round him so that he stood there in a white sack unable to raise his arms. The singing stopped. The next moment Haie Westhus was there, and spreading out his arms he shoved us back in order to be first in. He put himself in position with evident satisf... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Himmelstoss ought to have been pleased; his saying that we should each educate one another had borne fruit for himself. We had become successful students of his method. He never discovered whom he had to thank for the business. At any rate he scored a bed-cover out of it; for when we returned a few hours later to lo... | No speaker | rather mysteriously: "Revenge is black-pudding."<|quote|>Himmelstoss ought to have been pleased; his saying that we should each educate one another had borne fruit for himself. We had become successful students of his method. He never discovered whom he had to thank for the business. At any rate he scored a bed-cove... | and said wrathfully, satisfied and rather mysteriously: "Revenge is black-pudding."<|quote|>Himmelstoss ought to have been pleased; his saying that we should each educate one another had borne fruit for himself. We had become successful students of his method. He never discovered whom he had to thank for the business... | made ready and fetched him a second, well-aimed beauty with the left hand. Himmelstoss yelled and fell down on all fours cursing. His striped postman's backside gleamed in the moonlight. We disappeared at full speed. Haie looked round once again and said wrathfully, satisfied and rather mysteriously: "Revenge is black-... | turn. Finally Haie stood Himmelstoss on his feet again and gave one last personal remonstrance. As he stretched out his right arm preparatory to giving him a box on the ear he looked as if he were going to reach down a star. Himmelstoss staggered. Haie stood him up again, made ready and fetched him a second, well-aimed... | a mighty yell that was immediately hushed. Tjaden unbuttoned Himmelstoss's braces and pulled down his trousers, holding the whip meantime in his teeth. Then he stood up and set to work. It was a wonderful picture: Himmelstoss on the ground; Haie bending over him with a fiendish grin and his mouth open with blood-lust, ... | it in the mornings as the door flew open and he bawled: "Get up!" "Alone?" whispered Kropp. "Alone." I slipped round the pile of stones with Tjaden. Himmelstoss seemed a little elevated; he was singing. His belt-buckle gleamed. He came on unsuspectingly. We seized the bed-cover, made a quick leap, threw it over his... | sheer laziness and invented a method worthy of himself for curing Tjaden. He hunted up another piss-a-bed, named Kindervater, from a neighbouring hut, and quartered him with Tjaden. In the huts there were the usual bunks, one above the other in pairs, with mattresses of wire-netting. Himmelstoss put these two so that o... | heard it in the mornings as the door flew open and he bawled: "Get up!" "Alone?" whispered Kropp. "Alone." I slipped round the pile of stones with Tjaden. Himmelstoss seemed a little elevated; he was singing. His belt-buckle gleamed. He came on unsuspectingly. We seized the bed-cover, made a quick leap, threw it ov... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
CHAPTER IV We have to go up on wiring fatigue. The motor lorries roll up after dark. We climb in. It is a warm evening and the twilight seems like a canopy under whose shelter we feel drawn together. Even the stingy Tjaden gives me a cigarette and then a light. We stand jammed in together, shoulder to shoulder, t... | No speaker | describe us as "young heroes."<|quote|>CHAPTER IV We have to go up on wiring fatigue. The motor lorries roll up after dark. We climb in. It is a warm evening and the twilight seems like a canopy under whose shelter we feel drawn together. Even the stingy Tjaden gives me a cigarette and then a light. We stand jamm... | old buffer was pleased to describe us as "young heroes."<|quote|>CHAPTER IV We have to go up on wiring fatigue. The motor lorries roll up after dark. We climb in. It is a warm evening and the twilight seems like a canopy under whose shelter we feel drawn together. Even the stingy Tjaden gives me a cigarette and th... | scored a bed-cover out of it; for when we returned a few hours later to look for it, it was no longer to be found. That evening's work made us more or less content to leave next morning. And an old buffer was pleased to describe us as "young heroes."<|quote|>CHAPTER IV We have to go up on wiring fatigue. The motor lo... | satisfied and rather mysteriously: "Revenge is black-pudding." Himmelstoss ought to have been pleased; his saying that we should each educate one another had borne fruit for himself. We had become successful students of his method. He never discovered whom he had to thank for the business. At any rate he scored a be... | to drag him away to get our turn. Finally Haie stood Himmelstoss on his feet again and gave one last personal remonstrance. As he stretched out his right arm preparatory to giving him a box on the ear he looked as if he were going to reach down a star. Himmelstoss staggered. Haie stood him up again, made ready and fetc... | us back in order to be first in. He put himself in position with evident satisfaction, raised his arm like a signal-mast and his hand like a coal-shovel and fetched such a blow on the white sack as would have felled an ox. Himmelstoss was thrown down, he rolled five yards and started to yell. But we were prepared for t... | self-education. The idea was low but not ill-conceived. Unfortunately it accomplished nothing because the first assumption was wrong: it was not laziness in either of them. Anyone who looked at their sallow skin could see that. The matter ended in one of them always sleeping on the floor, where he frequently caught col... | out his arms he shoved us back in order to be first in. He put himself in position with evident satisfaction, raised his arm like a signal-mast and his hand like a coal-shovel and fetched such a blow on the white sack as would have felled an ox. Himmelstoss was thrown down, he rolled five yards and started to yell. But... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Kat, I hear some aspirants for the frying-pan over there." | Paul | me; we understand one another.<|quote|>"Kat, I hear some aspirants for the frying-pan over there."</|quote|>He nods. "It will be | Katczinsky--a glance from him to me; we understand one another.<|quote|>"Kat, I hear some aspirants for the frying-pan over there."</|quote|>He nods. "It will be attended to when we come | they answer back. A wall becomes visible, it belongs to a house which lies on the side of the road. I suddenly prick up my ears. Am I deceived? Again I hear distinctly the cackle of geese. A glance at Katczinsky--a glance from him to me; we understand one another.<|quote|>"Kat, I hear some aspirants for the frying-pan ... | arm is better than a hole in the guts, and many a man would be thankful enough for such a chance of finding his way home again. Beside us stream the munition-columns in long files. They are making the pace, they overtake us going forward. We joke with them and they answer back. A wall becomes visible, it belongs to a h... | canopy under whose shelter we feel drawn together. Even the stingy Tjaden gives me a cigarette and then a light. We stand jammed in together, shoulder to shoulder, there is no room to sit. But we do not expect that. Müller is in a good mood for once; he is wearing his new boots. The engines drone, the lorries bump and ... | giving him a box on the ear he looked as if he were going to reach down a star. Himmelstoss staggered. Haie stood him up again, made ready and fetched him a second, well-aimed beauty with the left hand. Himmelstoss yelled and fell down on all fours cursing. His striped postman's backside gleamed in the moonlight. We di... | anyhow if he didn't recognize us and we left early the next morning? We knew which pub he used to visit every evening. Returning to the barracks he had to go along a dark, uninhabited road. There we waited for him behind a pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled with suspense, hoping he would be alone. A... | to look for it, it was no longer to be found. That evening's work made us more or less content to leave next morning. And an old buffer was pleased to describe us as "young heroes." CHAPTER IV We have to go up on wiring fatigue. The motor lorries roll up after dark. We climb in. It is a warm evening and the twiligh... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
He nods. | No speaker | for the frying-pan over there."<|quote|>He nods.</|quote|>"It will be attended to | "Kat, I hear some aspirants for the frying-pan over there."<|quote|>He nods.</|quote|>"It will be attended to when we come back. I | a house which lies on the side of the road. I suddenly prick up my ears. Am I deceived? Again I hear distinctly the cackle of geese. A glance at Katczinsky--a glance from him to me; we understand one another. "Kat, I hear some aspirants for the frying-pan over there."<|quote|>He nods.</|quote|>"It will be attended to w... | many a man would be thankful enough for such a chance of finding his way home again. Beside us stream the munition-columns in long files. They are making the pace, they overtake us going forward. We joke with them and they answer back. A wall becomes visible, it belongs to a house which lies on the side of the road. I ... | stingy Tjaden gives me a cigarette and then a light. We stand jammed in together, shoulder to shoulder, there is no room to sit. But we do not expect that. Müller is in a good mood for once; he is wearing his new boots. The engines drone, the lorries bump and rattle. The roads are worn and full of holes. We dare not sh... | if he were going to reach down a star. Himmelstoss staggered. Haie stood him up again, made ready and fetched him a second, well-aimed beauty with the left hand. Himmelstoss yelled and fell down on all fours cursing. His striped postman's backside gleamed in the moonlight. We disappeared at full speed. Haie looked roun... | the next morning? We knew which pub he used to visit every evening. Returning to the barracks he had to go along a dark, uninhabited road. There we waited for him behind a pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled with suspense, hoping he would be alone. At last we heard his footstep, which we recognized e... | picture: Himmelstoss on the ground; Haie bending over him with a fiendish grin and his mouth open with blood-lust, Himmelstoss's head on his knees; then the convulsed, striped drawers, the knock knees, executing at every blow most original movements in the lowered breeches, and towering over them like a woodcutter the ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"It will be attended to when we come back. I have their number." | Katczinsky | frying-pan over there." He nods.<|quote|>"It will be attended to when we come back. I have their number."</|quote|>Of course Kat has their | hear some aspirants for the frying-pan over there." He nods.<|quote|>"It will be attended to when we come back. I have their number."</|quote|>Of course Kat has their number. He knows all about | which lies on the side of the road. I suddenly prick up my ears. Am I deceived? Again I hear distinctly the cackle of geese. A glance at Katczinsky--a glance from him to me; we understand one another. "Kat, I hear some aspirants for the frying-pan over there." He nods.<|quote|>"It will be attended to when we come back.... | man would be thankful enough for such a chance of finding his way home again. Beside us stream the munition-columns in long files. They are making the pace, they overtake us going forward. We joke with them and they answer back. A wall becomes visible, it belongs to a house which lies on the side of the road. I suddenl... | gives me a cigarette and then a light. We stand jammed in together, shoulder to shoulder, there is no room to sit. But we do not expect that. Müller is in a good mood for once; he is wearing his new boots. The engines drone, the lorries bump and rattle. The roads are worn and full of holes. We dare not show a light so ... | were going to reach down a star. Himmelstoss staggered. Haie stood him up again, made ready and fetched him a second, well-aimed beauty with the left hand. Himmelstoss yelled and fell down on all fours cursing. His striped postman's backside gleamed in the moonlight. We disappeared at full speed. Haie looked round once... | morning? We knew which pub he used to visit every evening. Returning to the barracks he had to go along a dark, uninhabited road. There we waited for him behind a pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled with suspense, hoping he would be alone. At last we heard his footstep, which we recognized easily, so... | had to drag him away to get our turn. Finally Haie stood Himmelstoss on his feet again and gave one last personal remonstrance. As he stretched out his right arm preparatory to giving him a box on the ear he looked as if he were going to reach down a star. Himmelstoss staggered. Haie stood him up again, made ready and ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Of course Kat has their number. He knows all about every leg of goose within a radius of fifteen miles. The lorries arrive at the artillery lines. The gun-emplacements are camouflaged with bushes against aerial observation, and look like a kind of military Feast of the Tabernacles. These branches might seem gay and... | No speaker | back. I have their number."<|quote|>Of course Kat has their number. He knows all about every leg of goose within a radius of fifteen miles. The lorries arrive at the artillery lines. The gun-emplacements are camouflaged with bushes against aerial observation, and look like a kind of military Feast of the Tabernacles... | attended to when we come back. I have their number."<|quote|>Of course Kat has their number. He knows all about every leg of goose within a radius of fifteen miles. The lorries arrive at the artillery lines. The gun-emplacements are camouflaged with bushes against aerial observation, and look like a kind of military... | ears. Am I deceived? Again I hear distinctly the cackle of geese. A glance at Katczinsky--a glance from him to me; we understand one another. "Kat, I hear some aspirants for the frying-pan over there." He nods. "It will be attended to when we come back. I have their number."<|quote|>Of course Kat has their number. He... | home again. Beside us stream the munition-columns in long files. They are making the pace, they overtake us going forward. We joke with them and they answer back. A wall becomes visible, it belongs to a house which lies on the side of the road. I suddenly prick up my ears. Am I deceived? Again I hear distinctly the cac... | shoulder to shoulder, there is no room to sit. But we do not expect that. Müller is in a good mood for once; he is wearing his new boots. The engines drone, the lorries bump and rattle. The roads are worn and full of holes. We dare not show a light so we lurch along and are often almost pitched out. That does not worry... | again, made ready and fetched him a second, well-aimed beauty with the left hand. Himmelstoss yelled and fell down on all fours cursing. His striped postman's backside gleamed in the moonlight. We disappeared at full speed. Haie looked round once again and said wrathfully, satisfied and rather mysteriously: "Revenge is... | the barracks he had to go along a dark, uninhabited road. There we waited for him behind a pile of stones. I had a bed-cover with me. We trembled with suspense, hoping he would be alone. At last we heard his footstep, which we recognized easily, so often had we heard it in the mornings as the door flew open and he bawl... | wiring fatigue. The motor lorries roll up after dark. We climb in. It is a warm evening and the twilight seems like a canopy under whose shelter we feel drawn together. Even the stingy Tjaden gives me a cigarette and then a light. We stand jammed in together, shoulder to shoulder, there is no room to sit. But we do not... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." | Katczinsky | agitated. Kat explains to them:<|quote|>"That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun."</|quote|>But the hollow sound of | Only the young recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them:<|quote|>"That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun."</|quote|>But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach | front-line, but only in the reserves, yet in every face can be read: This is the Front, now we are within its embrace. It is not fear. Men who have been up as often as we have become thick skinned. Only the young recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them:<|quote|>"That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first... | air becomes acrid with the smoke of the guns and the fog. The fumes of powder taste bitter on the tongue. The roar of the guns makes our lorry stagger, the reverberation rolls raging away to the rear, everything quakes. Our faces change imperceptibly. We are not, indeed, in the front-line, but only in the reserves, yet... | of geese. A glance at Katczinsky--a glance from him to me; we understand one another. "Kat, I hear some aspirants for the frying-pan over there." He nods. "It will be attended to when we come back. I have their number." Of course Kat has their number. He knows all about every leg of goose within a radius of fifteen m... | dark. We climb in. It is a warm evening and the twilight seems like a canopy under whose shelter we feel drawn together. Even the stingy Tjaden gives me a cigarette and then a light. We stand jammed in together, shoulder to shoulder, there is no room to sit. But we do not expect that. Müller is in a good mood for once;... | raised his arm like a signal-mast and his hand like a coal-shovel and fetched such a blow on the white sack as would have felled an ox. Himmelstoss was thrown down, he rolled five yards and started to yell. But we were prepared for that and had brought a cushion. Haie squatted down, laid the cushion on his knees, felt ... | worry us, however. It can happen if it likes; a broken arm is better than a hole in the guts, and many a man would be thankful enough for such a chance of finding his way home again. Beside us stream the munition-columns in long files. They are making the pace, they overtake us going forward. We joke with them and they... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens: | No speaker | the sound of the gun."<|quote|>But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens:</|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment to-night." | explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun."<|quote|>But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens:</|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment to-night." We all listen. The front | now we are within its embrace. It is not fear. Men who have been up as often as we have become thick skinned. Only the young recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun."<|quote|>But the hollow sound of the firing does not... | bitter on the tongue. The roar of the guns makes our lorry stagger, the reverberation rolls raging away to the rear, everything quakes. Our faces change imperceptibly. We are not, indeed, in the front-line, but only in the reserves, yet in every face can be read: This is the Front, now we are within its embrace. It is ... | hear some aspirants for the frying-pan over there." He nods. "It will be attended to when we come back. I have their number." Of course Kat has their number. He knows all about every leg of goose within a radius of fifteen miles. The lorries arrive at the artillery lines. The gun-emplacements are camouflaged with b... | whose shelter we feel drawn together. Even the stingy Tjaden gives me a cigarette and then a light. We stand jammed in together, shoulder to shoulder, there is no room to sit. But we do not expect that. Müller is in a good mood for once; he is wearing his new boots. The engines drone, the lorries bump and rattle. The r... | on the white sack as would have felled an ox. Himmelstoss was thrown down, he rolled five yards and started to yell. But we were prepared for that and had brought a cushion. Haie squatted down, laid the cushion on his knees, felt where Himmelstoss's head was and pressed it down on the pillow. Immediately his voice was ... | A wall becomes visible, it belongs to a house which lies on the side of the road. I suddenly prick up my ears. Am I deceived? Again I hear distinctly the cackle of geese. A glance at Katczinsky--a glance from him to me; we understand one another. "Kat, I hear some aspirants for the frying-pan over there." He nods. "It ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"There'll be a bombardment to-night." | Katczinsky | of the front. Kat listens:<|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment to-night."</|quote|>We all listen. The front | up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens:<|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment to-night."</|quote|>We all listen. The front is restless. "The Tommies are | the young recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens:<|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment to-nigh... | faces change imperceptibly. We are not, indeed, in the front-line, but only in the reserves, yet in every face can be read: This is the Front, now we are within its embrace. It is not fear. Men who have been up as often as we have become thick skinned. Only the young recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them: "That w... | course Kat has their number. He knows all about every leg of goose within a radius of fifteen miles. The lorries arrive at the artillery lines. The gun-emplacements are camouflaged with bushes against aerial observation, and look like a kind of military Feast of the Tabernacles. These branches might seem gay and cheerf... | to shoulder, there is no room to sit. But we do not expect that. Müller is in a good mood for once; he is wearing his new boots. The engines drone, the lorries bump and rattle. The roads are worn and full of holes. We dare not show a light so we lurch along and are often almost pitched out. That does not worry us, howe... | were prepared for that and had brought a cushion. Haie squatted down, laid the cushion on his knees, felt where Himmelstoss's head was and pressed it down on the pillow. Immediately his voice was muffled. Haie let him get a gasp of air every so often, when he would give a mighty yell that was immediately hushed. Tjaden... | later to look for it, it was no longer to be found. That evening's work made us more or less content to leave next morning. And an old buffer was pleased to describe us as "young heroes." CHAPTER IV We have to go up on wiring fatigue. The motor lorries roll up after dark. We climb in. It is a warm evening and the t... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
We all listen. The front is restless. | No speaker | "There'll be a bombardment to-night."<|quote|>We all listen. The front is restless.</|quote|>"The Tommies are firing already," | of the front. Kat listens: "There'll be a bombardment to-night."<|quote|>We all listen. The front is restless.</|quote|>"The Tommies are firing already," says Kropp. The shelling can | Kat explains to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens: "There'll be a bombardment to-night."<|quote|>We all listen. The front is ... | not, indeed, in the front-line, but only in the reserves, yet in every face can be read: This is the Front, now we are within its embrace. It is not fear. Men who have been up as often as we have become thick skinned. Only the young recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the exp... | He knows all about every leg of goose within a radius of fifteen miles. The lorries arrive at the artillery lines. The gun-emplacements are camouflaged with bushes against aerial observation, and look like a kind of military Feast of the Tabernacles. These branches might seem gay and cheerful were not cannon embowered ... | room to sit. But we do not expect that. Müller is in a good mood for once; he is wearing his new boots. The engines drone, the lorries bump and rattle. The roads are worn and full of holes. We dare not show a light so we lurch along and are often almost pitched out. That does not worry us, however. It can happen if it ... | had brought a cushion. Haie squatted down, laid the cushion on his knees, felt where Himmelstoss's head was and pressed it down on the pillow. Immediately his voice was muffled. Haie let him get a gasp of air every so often, when he would give a mighty yell that was immediately hushed. Tjaden unbuttoned Himmelstoss's b... | have their number." Of course Kat has their number. He knows all about every leg of goose within a radius of fifteen miles. The lorries arrive at the artillery lines. The gun-emplacements are camouflaged with bushes against aerial observation, and look like a kind of military Feast of the Tabernacles. These branche... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"The Tommies are firing already," | Kropp | listen. The front is restless.<|quote|>"The Tommies are firing already,"</|quote|>says Kropp. The shelling can | a bombardment to-night." We all listen. The front is restless.<|quote|>"The Tommies are firing already,"</|quote|>says Kropp. The shelling can be heard distinctly. It is | twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens: "There'll be a bombardment to-night." We all listen. The front is restless.<|quote|>"The Tommies are firing a... | in the reserves, yet in every face can be read: This is the Front, now we are within its embrace. It is not fear. Men who have been up as often as we have become thick skinned. Only the young recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sou... | goose within a radius of fifteen miles. The lorries arrive at the artillery lines. The gun-emplacements are camouflaged with bushes against aerial observation, and look like a kind of military Feast of the Tabernacles. These branches might seem gay and cheerful were not cannon embowered there. The air becomes acrid wit... | expect that. Müller is in a good mood for once; he is wearing his new boots. The engines drone, the lorries bump and rattle. The roads are worn and full of holes. We dare not show a light so we lurch along and are often almost pitched out. That does not worry us, however. It can happen if it likes; a broken arm is bett... | laid the cushion on his knees, felt where Himmelstoss's head was and pressed it down on the pillow. Immediately his voice was muffled. Haie let him get a gasp of air every so often, when he would give a mighty yell that was immediately hushed. Tjaden unbuttoned Himmelstoss's braces and pulled down his trousers, holding... | with them and they answer back. A wall becomes visible, it belongs to a house which lies on the side of the road. I suddenly prick up my ears. Am I deceived? Again I hear distinctly the cackle of geese. A glance at Katczinsky--a glance from him to me; we understand one another. "Kat, I hear some aspirants for the fryin... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
says Kropp. The shelling can be heard distinctly. It is the English batteries to the right of our section. They are beginning an hour too soon. According to us they start punctually at ten o'clock. | No speaker | "The Tommies are firing already,"<|quote|>says Kropp. The shelling can be heard distinctly. It is the English batteries to the right of our section. They are beginning an hour too soon. According to us they start punctually at ten o'clock.</|quote|>"What's got them?" says Müller, | listen. The front is restless. "The Tommies are firing already,"<|quote|>says Kropp. The shelling can be heard distinctly. It is the English batteries to the right of our section. They are beginning an hour too soon. According to us they start punctually at ten o'clock.</|quote|>"What's got them?" says Müller, "thei... | first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens: "There'll be a bombardment to-night." We all listen. The front is restless. "The Tommies are firing already,"<|quote|>says Kropp. The shelling c... | every face can be read: This is the Front, now we are within its embrace. It is not fear. Men who have been up as often as we have become thick skinned. Only the young recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." But the ... | fifteen miles. The lorries arrive at the artillery lines. The gun-emplacements are camouflaged with bushes against aerial observation, and look like a kind of military Feast of the Tabernacles. These branches might seem gay and cheerful were not cannon embowered there. The air becomes acrid with the smoke of the guns a... | a good mood for once; he is wearing his new boots. The engines drone, the lorries bump and rattle. The roads are worn and full of holes. We dare not show a light so we lurch along and are often almost pitched out. That does not worry us, however. It can happen if it likes; a broken arm is better than a hole in the guts... | knees, felt where Himmelstoss's head was and pressed it down on the pillow. Immediately his voice was muffled. Haie let him get a gasp of air every so often, when he would give a mighty yell that was immediately hushed. Tjaden unbuttoned Himmelstoss's braces and pulled down his trousers, holding the whip meantime in hi... | and full of holes. We dare not show a light so we lurch along and are often almost pitched out. That does not worry us, however. It can happen if it likes; a broken arm is better than a hole in the guts, and many a man would be thankful enough for such a chance of finding his way home again. Beside us stream the muniti... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"What's got them?" | Müller | start punctually at ten o'clock.<|quote|>"What's got them?"</|quote|>says Müller, "their clocks must | soon. According to us they start punctually at ten o'clock.<|quote|>"What's got them?"</|quote|>says Müller, "their clocks must be fast." "There'll be a | a bombardment to-night." We all listen. The front is restless. "The Tommies are firing already," says Kropp. The shelling can be heard distinctly. It is the English batteries to the right of our section. They are beginning an hour too soon. According to us they start punctually at ten o'clock.<|quote|>"What's got t... | recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens: "There'll be a bombardment to-night." We all listen.... | cheerful were not cannon embowered there. The air becomes acrid with the smoke of the guns and the fog. The fumes of powder taste bitter on the tongue. The roar of the guns makes our lorry stagger, the reverberation rolls raging away to the rear, everything quakes. Our faces change imperceptibly. We are not, indeed, in... | lurch along and are often almost pitched out. That does not worry us, however. It can happen if it likes; a broken arm is better than a hole in the guts, and many a man would be thankful enough for such a chance of finding his way home again. Beside us stream the munition-columns in long files. They are making the pace... | yell that was immediately hushed. Tjaden unbuttoned Himmelstoss's braces and pulled down his trousers, holding the whip meantime in his teeth. Then he stood up and set to work. It was a wonderful picture: Himmelstoss on the ground; Haie bending over him with a fiendish grin and his mouth open with blood-lust, Himmelsto... | prick up my ears. Am I deceived? Again I hear distinctly the cackle of geese. A glance at Katczinsky--a glance from him to me; we understand one another. "Kat, I hear some aspirants for the frying-pan over there." He nods. "It will be attended to when we come back. I have their number." Of course Kat has their number.... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
says Müller, | No speaker | ten o'clock. "What's got them?"<|quote|>says Müller,</|quote|>"their clocks must be fast." | us they start punctually at ten o'clock. "What's got them?"<|quote|>says Müller,</|quote|>"their clocks must be fast." "There'll be a bombardment, I | We all listen. The front is restless. "The Tommies are firing already," says Kropp. The shelling can be heard distinctly. It is the English batteries to the right of our section. They are beginning an hour too soon. According to us they start punctually at ten o'clock. "What's got them?"<|quote|>says Müller,</|quot... | Kat explains to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens: "There'll be a bombardment to-night." We all listen. The front is restless... | cannon embowered there. The air becomes acrid with the smoke of the guns and the fog. The fumes of powder taste bitter on the tongue. The roar of the guns makes our lorry stagger, the reverberation rolls raging away to the rear, everything quakes. Our faces change imperceptibly. We are not, indeed, in the front-line, b... | are often almost pitched out. That does not worry us, however. It can happen if it likes; a broken arm is better than a hole in the guts, and many a man would be thankful enough for such a chance of finding his way home again. Beside us stream the munition-columns in long files. They are making the pace, they overtake ... | immediately hushed. Tjaden unbuttoned Himmelstoss's braces and pulled down his trousers, holding the whip meantime in his teeth. Then he stood up and set to work. It was a wonderful picture: Himmelstoss on the ground; Haie bending over him with a fiendish grin and his mouth open with blood-lust, Himmelstoss's head on h... | us more or less content to leave next morning. And an old buffer was pleased to describe us as "young heroes." CHAPTER IV We have to go up on wiring fatigue. The motor lorries roll up after dark. We climb in. It is a warm evening and the twilight seems like a canopy under whose shelter we feel drawn together. Even... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"their clocks must be fast." | Müller | "What's got them?" says Müller,<|quote|>"their clocks must be fast."</|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment, I | start punctually at ten o'clock. "What's got them?" says Müller,<|quote|>"their clocks must be fast."</|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment, I tell you, I can feel | listen. The front is restless. "The Tommies are firing already," says Kropp. The shelling can be heard distinctly. It is the English batteries to the right of our section. They are beginning an hour too soon. According to us they start punctually at ten o'clock. "What's got them?" says Müller,<|quote|>"their clocks ... | to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens: "There'll be a bombardment to-night." We all listen. The front is restless. "The Tommie... | there. The air becomes acrid with the smoke of the guns and the fog. The fumes of powder taste bitter on the tongue. The roar of the guns makes our lorry stagger, the reverberation rolls raging away to the rear, everything quakes. Our faces change imperceptibly. We are not, indeed, in the front-line, but only in the re... | almost pitched out. That does not worry us, however. It can happen if it likes; a broken arm is better than a hole in the guts, and many a man would be thankful enough for such a chance of finding his way home again. Beside us stream the munition-columns in long files. They are making the pace, they overtake us going f... | Tjaden unbuttoned Himmelstoss's braces and pulled down his trousers, holding the whip meantime in his teeth. Then he stood up and set to work. It was a wonderful picture: Himmelstoss on the ground; Haie bending over him with a fiendish grin and his mouth open with blood-lust, Himmelstoss's head on his knees; then the c... | successful students of his method. He never discovered whom he had to thank for the business. At any rate he scored a bed-cover out of it; for when we returned a few hours later to look for it, it was no longer to be found. That evening's work made us more or less content to leave next morning. And an old buffer was pl... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"There'll be a bombardment, I tell you, I can feel it in my bones." | Katczinsky | "their clocks must be fast."<|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment, I tell you, I can feel it in my bones."</|quote|>Kat shrugs his shoulders. Three | "What's got them?" says Müller, "their clocks must be fast."<|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment, I tell you, I can feel it in my bones."</|quote|>Kat shrugs his shoulders. Three shells land beside us. The | "The Tommies are firing already," says Kropp. The shelling can be heard distinctly. It is the English batteries to the right of our section. They are beginning an hour too soon. According to us they start punctually at ten o'clock. "What's got them?" says Müller, "their clocks must be fast."<|quote|>"There'll be a b... | twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens: "There'll be a bombardment to-night." We all listen. The front is restless. "The Tommies are firing already,"... | with the smoke of the guns and the fog. The fumes of powder taste bitter on the tongue. The roar of the guns makes our lorry stagger, the reverberation rolls raging away to the rear, everything quakes. Our faces change imperceptibly. We are not, indeed, in the front-line, but only in the reserves, yet in every face can... | not worry us, however. It can happen if it likes; a broken arm is better than a hole in the guts, and many a man would be thankful enough for such a chance of finding his way home again. Beside us stream the munition-columns in long files. They are making the pace, they overtake us going forward. We joke with them and ... | pulled down his trousers, holding the whip meantime in his teeth. Then he stood up and set to work. It was a wonderful picture: Himmelstoss on the ground; Haie bending over him with a fiendish grin and his mouth open with blood-lust, Himmelstoss's head on his knees; then the convulsed, striped drawers, the knock knees,... | miles. The lorries arrive at the artillery lines. The gun-emplacements are camouflaged with bushes against aerial observation, and look like a kind of military Feast of the Tabernacles. These branches might seem gay and cheerful were not cannon embowered there. The air becomes acrid with the smoke of the guns and the f... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Kat shrugs his shoulders. Three shells land beside us. The burst of flame shoots across the fog, the fragments howl and drone. We shiver and are glad to think that we shall be back in the huts early in the morning. Our faces are neither paler nor more flushed than usual; they are not more tense nor more flabby--and... | No speaker | feel it in my bones."<|quote|>Kat shrugs his shoulders. Three shells land beside us. The burst of flame shoots across the fog, the fragments howl and drone. We shiver and are glad to think that we shall be back in the huts early in the morning. Our faces are neither paler nor more flushed than usual; they are not m... | I tell you, I can feel it in my bones."<|quote|>Kat shrugs his shoulders. Three shells land beside us. The burst of flame shoots across the fog, the fragments howl and drone. We shiver and are glad to think that we shall be back in the huts early in the morning. Our faces are neither paler nor more flushed than usu... | is the English batteries to the right of our section. They are beginning an hour too soon. According to us they start punctually at ten o'clock. "What's got them?" says Müller, "their clocks must be fast." "There'll be a bombardment, I tell you, I can feel it in my bones."<|quote|>Kat shrugs his shoulders. Three shell... | But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens: "There'll be a bombardment to-night." We all listen. The front is restless. "The Tommies are firing already," says Kropp. The shelling can be heard distinctly. It is the English batteries to th... | bitter on the tongue. The roar of the guns makes our lorry stagger, the reverberation rolls raging away to the rear, everything quakes. Our faces change imperceptibly. We are not, indeed, in the front-line, but only in the reserves, yet in every face can be read: This is the Front, now we are within its embrace. It is ... | better than a hole in the guts, and many a man would be thankful enough for such a chance of finding his way home again. Beside us stream the munition-columns in long files. They are making the pace, they overtake us going forward. We joke with them and they answer back. A wall becomes visible, it belongs to a house wh... | up and set to work. It was a wonderful picture: Himmelstoss on the ground; Haie bending over him with a fiendish grin and his mouth open with blood-lust, Himmelstoss's head on his knees; then the convulsed, striped drawers, the knock knees, executing at every blow most original movements in the lowered breeches, and to... | thankful enough for such a chance of finding his way home again. Beside us stream the munition-columns in long files. They are making the pace, they overtake us going forward. We joke with them and they answer back. A wall becomes visible, it belongs to a house which lies on the side of the road. I suddenly prick up my... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"There'll be a bombardment," | Katczinsky | of the hut and says:<|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment,"</|quote|>that is merely his own | When Kat stands in front of the hut and says:<|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment,"</|quote|>that is merely his own opinion; but if he says | an electric current which awakened unknown nerve-centres. Every time it is the same. We start out for the front plain soldiers, either cheerful or gloomy: then come the first gun-emplacements and every word of our speech has a new ring. When Kat stands in front of the hut and says:<|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment,"<... | tense waiting, a watching, a heightened alertness, a strange sharpening of the senses. The body with one bound is in full readiness. It often seems to me as though it were the vibrating, shuddering air that with a noiseless leap springs upon us; or as though the front itself emitted an electric current which awakened u... | are glad to think that we shall be back in the huts early in the morning. Our faces are neither paler nor more flushed than usual; they are not more tense nor more flabby--and yet they are changed. We feel that in our blood a contact has shot home. That is no figure of speech; it is fact. It is the front, the conscious... | change imperceptibly. We are not, indeed, in the front-line, but only in the reserves, yet in every face can be read: This is the Front, now we are within its embrace. It is not fear. Men who have been up as often as we have become thick skinned. Only the young recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them: "That was a t... | we returned a few hours later to look for it, it was no longer to be found. That evening's work made us more or less content to leave next morning. And an old buffer was pleased to describe us as "young heroes." CHAPTER IV We have to go up on wiring fatigue. The motor lorries roll up after dark. We climb in. It is ... | as we have become thick skinned. Only the young recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens: "The... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
that is merely his own opinion; but if he says it here, then the sentence has the sharpness of a bayonet in the moonlight, it cuts clean through the thought, it thrusts nearer and speaks to this unknown thing that is awakened in us, a dark meaning-- | No speaker | says: "There'll be a bombardment,"<|quote|>that is merely his own opinion; but if he says it here, then the sentence has the sharpness of a bayonet in the moonlight, it cuts clean through the thought, it thrusts nearer and speaks to this unknown thing that is awakened in us, a dark meaning--</|quote|>"There'll be a bom... | front of the hut and says: "There'll be a bombardment,"<|quote|>that is merely his own opinion; but if he says it here, then the sentence has the sharpness of a bayonet in the moonlight, it cuts clean through the thought, it thrusts nearer and speaks to this unknown thing that is awakened in us, a dark meaning--</|quot... | awakened unknown nerve-centres. Every time it is the same. We start out for the front plain soldiers, either cheerful or gloomy: then come the first gun-emplacements and every word of our speech has a new ring. When Kat stands in front of the hut and says: "There'll be a bombardment,"<|quote|>that is merely his own opi... | a heightened alertness, a strange sharpening of the senses. The body with one bound is in full readiness. It often seems to me as though it were the vibrating, shuddering air that with a noiseless leap springs upon us; or as though the front itself emitted an electric current which awakened unknown nerve-centres. Every... | that we shall be back in the huts early in the morning. Our faces are neither paler nor more flushed than usual; they are not more tense nor more flabby--and yet they are changed. We feel that in our blood a contact has shot home. That is no figure of speech; it is fact. It is the front, the consciousness of the front,... | not, indeed, in the front-line, but only in the reserves, yet in every face can be read: This is the Front, now we are within its embrace. It is not fear. Men who have been up as often as we have become thick skinned. Only the young recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the exp... | hours later to look for it, it was no longer to be found. That evening's work made us more or less content to leave next morning. And an old buffer was pleased to describe us as "young heroes." CHAPTER IV We have to go up on wiring fatigue. The motor lorries roll up after dark. We climb in. It is a warm evening and... | distinctly. It is the English batteries to the right of our section. They are beginning an hour too soon. According to us they start punctually at ten o'clock. "What's got them?" says Müller, "their clocks must be fast." "There'll be a bombardment, I tell you, I can feel it in my bones." Kat shrugs his shoulders. Thre... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"There'll be a bombardment." | Katczinsky | in us, a dark meaning--<|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment."</|quote|>Perhaps it is our inner | unknown thing that is awakened in us, a dark meaning--<|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment."</|quote|>Perhaps it is our inner and most secret life that | be a bombardment," that is merely his own opinion; but if he says it here, then the sentence has the sharpness of a bayonet in the moonlight, it cuts clean through the thought, it thrusts nearer and speaks to this unknown thing that is awakened in us, a dark meaning--<|quote|>"There'll be a bombardment."</|quote|>Perha... | electric current which awakened unknown nerve-centres. Every time it is the same. We start out for the front plain soldiers, either cheerful or gloomy: then come the first gun-emplacements and every word of our speech has a new ring. When Kat stands in front of the hut and says: "There'll be a bombardment," that is mer... | no figure of speech; it is fact. It is the front, the consciousness of the front, that makes this contact. The moment that the first shells whistle over and the air is rent with the explosions there is suddenly in our veins, in our hands, in our eyes a tense waiting, a watching, a heightened alertness, a strange sharpe... | recruits are agitated. Kat explains to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens: "There'll be a bombardment to-night." We all listen.... | fatigue. The motor lorries roll up after dark. We climb in. It is a warm evening and the twilight seems like a canopy under whose shelter we feel drawn together. Even the stingy Tjaden gives me a cigarette and then a light. We stand jammed in together, shoulder to shoulder, there is no room to sit. But we do not expect... | and cheerful were not cannon embowered there. The air becomes acrid with the smoke of the guns and the fog. The fumes of powder taste bitter on the tongue. The roar of the guns makes our lorry stagger, the reverberation rolls raging away to the rear, everything quakes. Our faces change imperceptibly. We are not, indeed... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Perhaps it is our inner and most secret life that shivers and falls on guard. * * To me the front is a mysterious whirlpool. Though I am in still water far away from its centre, I feel the whirl of the vortex sucking me slowly, irresistibly, inescapably into itself. From the earth, from the air, sustaining forces p... | No speaker | meaning-- "There'll be a bombardment."<|quote|>Perhaps it is our inner and most secret life that shivers and falls on guard. * * To me the front is a mysterious whirlpool. Though I am in still water far away from its centre, I feel the whirl of the vortex sucking me slowly, irresistibly, inescapably into itself. Fr... | awakened in us, a dark meaning-- "There'll be a bombardment."<|quote|>Perhaps it is our inner and most secret life that shivers and falls on guard. * * To me the front is a mysterious whirlpool. Though I am in still water far away from its centre, I feel the whirl of the vortex sucking me slowly, irresistibly, inesc... | is merely his own opinion; but if he says it here, then the sentence has the sharpness of a bayonet in the moonlight, it cuts clean through the thought, it thrusts nearer and speaks to this unknown thing that is awakened in us, a dark meaning-- "There'll be a bombardment."<|quote|>Perhaps it is our inner and most secre... | unknown nerve-centres. Every time it is the same. We start out for the front plain soldiers, either cheerful or gloomy: then come the first gun-emplacements and every word of our speech has a new ring. When Kat stands in front of the hut and says: "There'll be a bombardment," that is merely his own opinion; but if he s... | it is fact. It is the front, the consciousness of the front, that makes this contact. The moment that the first shells whistle over and the air is rent with the explosions there is suddenly in our veins, in our hands, in our eyes a tense waiting, a watching, a heightened alertness, a strange sharpening of the senses. T... | explains to them: "That was a twelve-inch. You hear the explosion first and afterwards comes the sound of the gun." But the hollow sound of the firing does not reach us. It is swallowed up in the general murmur of the front. Kat listens: "There'll be a bombardment to-night." We all listen. The front is restless. "T... | roll up after dark. We climb in. It is a warm evening and the twilight seems like a canopy under whose shelter we feel drawn together. Even the stingy Tjaden gives me a cigarette and then a light. We stand jammed in together, shoulder to shoulder, there is no room to sit. But we do not expect that. Müller is in a good ... | within a radius of fifteen miles. The lorries arrive at the artillery lines. The gun-emplacements are camouflaged with bushes against aerial observation, and look like a kind of military Feast of the Tabernacles. These branches might seem gay and cheerful were not cannon embowered there. The air becomes acrid with the ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
-- | No speaker | deep shell-hole on the left"<|quote|>--</|quote|>"Mind, trenches" ---- Our eyes | ahead come warnings: "Look out, deep shell-hole on the left"<|quote|>--</|quote|>"Mind, trenches" ---- Our eyes peer out, our feet and | pioneer dump. Some of us load our shoulders with pointed and twisted iron stakes; others thrust smooth iron rods through rolls of wire and go off with them. The burdens are awkward and heavy. The ground becomes more broken. From ahead come warnings: "Look out, deep shell-hole on the left"<|quote|>--</|quote|>"Mind, tre... | moonlight, their movements are beautiful, they toss their heads, and their eyes gleam. The guns and the wagons float before the dim background of the moonlit landscape, the riders in their steel helmets resemble knights of a forgotten time; it is strangely beautiful and arresting. We push on to the pioneer dump. Some o... | the rifles stand out above the white mist, nodding heads, rocking carriers of guns. Farther on the mist ends. Here the heads become figures; coats, trousers, and boots appear out of the mist as from a milky pool. They become a column. The column marches on, straight ahead, the figures resolve themselves into a block, i... | quicker, much more sure, less fallible, than consciousness. One cannot explain it. A man is walking along without thought or heed;--suddenly he throws himself down on the ground and a storm of fragments flies harmlessly over him;--yet he cannot remember either to have heard the shell coming or to have thought of flingi... | springs upon us; or as though the front itself emitted an electric current which awakened unknown nerve-centres. Every time it is the same. We start out for the front plain soldiers, either cheerful or gloomy: then come the first gun-emplacements and every word of our speech has a new ring. When Kat stands in front of ... | him a new lease of ten seconds of life, receives him again and often for ever. Earth!--Earth!--Earth! Earth with thy folds, and hollows and holes, into which a man may fling himself and crouch down! In the spasm of terror, under the hailing of annihilation, in the bellowing death of the explosions, O Earth, thou grante... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
---- Our eyes peer out, our feet and our sticks feel in front of us before they take the weight of the body. Suddenly the line halts; I bump my face against the roll of wire carried by the man in front and curse. There are some shell-smashed lorries in the road. Another order: | No speaker | the left" -- "Mind, trenches"<|quote|>---- Our eyes peer out, our feet and our sticks feel in front of us before they take the weight of the body. Suddenly the line halts; I bump my face against the roll of wire carried by the man in front and curse. There are some shell-smashed lorries in the road. Another order:<... | "Look out, deep shell-hole on the left" -- "Mind, trenches"<|quote|>---- Our eyes peer out, our feet and our sticks feel in front of us before they take the weight of the body. Suddenly the line halts; I bump my face against the roll of wire carried by the man in front and curse. There are some shell-smashed lorries... | of us load our shoulders with pointed and twisted iron stakes; others thrust smooth iron rods through rolls of wire and go off with them. The burdens are awkward and heavy. The ground becomes more broken. From ahead come warnings: "Look out, deep shell-hole on the left" -- "Mind, trenches"<|quote|>---- Our eyes peer o... | are beautiful, they toss their heads, and their eyes gleam. The guns and the wagons float before the dim background of the moonlit landscape, the riders in their steel helmets resemble knights of a forgotten time; it is strangely beautiful and arresting. We push on to the pioneer dump. Some of us load our shoulders wit... | out above the white mist, nodding heads, rocking carriers of guns. Farther on the mist ends. Here the heads become figures; coats, trousers, and boots appear out of the mist as from a milky pool. They become a column. The column marches on, straight ahead, the figures resolve themselves into a block, individuals are no... | sure, less fallible, than consciousness. One cannot explain it. A man is walking along without thought or heed;--suddenly he throws himself down on the ground and a storm of fragments flies harmlessly over him;--yet he cannot remember either to have heard the shell coming or to have thought of flinging himself down. Bu... | or as though the front itself emitted an electric current which awakened unknown nerve-centres. Every time it is the same. We start out for the front plain soldiers, either cheerful or gloomy: then come the first gun-emplacements and every word of our speech has a new ring. When Kat stands in front of the hut and says:... | the instant human animals. * * An indigent looking wood receives us. We pass by the soup-kitchens. Under cover of the wood we climb out. The lorries turn back. They are to collect us again in the morning, before dawn. Mist and the smoke of guns lie breast-high over the fields. The moon is shining. Along the road troops... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
We are getting near the line. In the meantime it has become pitch dark. We skirt a small wood and then have the front line immediately before us. An uncertain, red glow spreads along the sky line from one end to the other. It is in perpetual movement, punctuated with the bursts of flame from the muzzles of the batt... | No speaker | order: "Cigarettes and pipes out,"<|quote|>We are getting near the line. In the meantime it has become pitch dark. We skirt a small wood and then have the front line immediately before us. An uncertain, red glow spreads along the sky line from one end to the other. It is in perpetual movement, punctuated with the b... | lorries in the road. Another order: "Cigarettes and pipes out,"<|quote|>We are getting near the line. In the meantime it has become pitch dark. We skirt a small wood and then have the front line immediately before us. An uncertain, red glow spreads along the sky line from one end to the other. It is in perpetual mo... | our sticks feel in front of us before they take the weight of the body. Suddenly the line halts; I bump my face against the roll of wire carried by the man in front and curse. There are some shell-smashed lorries in the road. Another order: "Cigarettes and pipes out,"<|quote|>We are getting near the line. In the meant... | twisted iron stakes; others thrust smooth iron rods through rolls of wire and go off with them. The burdens are awkward and heavy. The ground becomes more broken. From ahead come warnings: "Look out, deep shell-hole on the left" -- "Mind, trenches" ---- Our eyes peer out, our feet and our sticks feel in front of us be... | dark wedge presses onward, fantastically topped by the heads and weapons floating off on the milky pool. A column--not men at all. Guns and munition wagons are moving along a cross-road. The backs of the horses shine in the moonlight, their movements are beautiful, they toss their heads, and their eyes gleam. The guns ... | to the impulse he would now be a heap of mangled flesh. It is this other, this second sight in us, that has thrown us to the ground and saved us, without our knowing how. If it were not so, there would not be one man alive from Flanders to the Vosges. We march up, moody or good-tempered soldiers--we reach the zone wher... | be a bombardment," that is merely his own opinion; but if he says it here, then the sentence has the sharpness of a bayonet in the moonlight, it cuts clean through the thought, it thrusts nearer and speaks to this unknown thing that is awakened in us, a dark meaning-- "There'll be a bombardment." Perhaps it is our inne... | streams back through our hands from thee, and we, thy redeemed ones, bury ourselves in thee, and through the long minutes in a mute agony of hope bite into thee with our lips! At the sound of the first droning of the shells we rush back, in one part of our being, a thousand years. By the animal instinct that is awakene... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Bombardment," | Katczinsky | green, red, and blue stars.<|quote|>"Bombardment,"</|quote|>says Kat. The thunder of | to the sky, and again green, red, and blue stars.<|quote|>"Bombardment,"</|quote|>says Kat. The thunder of the guns swells to a | They light up everything as bright as day, their light shines on us and we see our shadows sharply outlined on the ground. They hover for the space of a minute before they burn out. Immediately fresh ones shoot up to the sky, and again green, red, and blue stars.<|quote|>"Bombardment,"</|quote|>says Kat. The thunder of... | bursts of flame from the muzzles of the batteries. Balls of light rise up high above it, silver and red spheres which explode and rain down in showers of red, white, and green stars. French rockets go up, which unfold a silk parachute to the air and drift slowly down. They light up everything as bright as day, their li... | sticks feel in front of us before they take the weight of the body. Suddenly the line halts; I bump my face against the roll of wire carried by the man in front and curse. There are some shell-smashed lorries in the road. Another order: "Cigarettes and pipes out," We are getting near the line. In the meantime it has b... | of guns. Farther on the mist ends. Here the heads become figures; coats, trousers, and boots appear out of the mist as from a milky pool. They become a column. The column marches on, straight ahead, the figures resolve themselves into a block, individuals are no longer recognizable, the dark wedge presses onward, fanta... | her from the fear of death by shell-fire, then she is his only friend, his brother, his mother; he stifles his terror and his cries in her silence and her security; she shelters him and gives him a new lease of ten seconds of life, receives him again and often for ever. Earth!--Earth!--Earth! Earth with thy folds, and ... | flinging himself down. But had he not abandoned himself to the impulse he would now be a heap of mangled flesh. It is this other, this second sight in us, that has thrown us to the ground and saved us, without our knowing how. If it were not so, there would not be one man alive from Flanders to the Vosges. We march up,... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
says Kat. The thunder of the guns swells to a single heavy roar and then breaks up again into separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invisible swift movement, with howls, pipings, and hisses. They are the smaller shells;--and amongst them, booming through the nig... | No speaker | red, and blue stars. "Bombardment,"<|quote|>says Kat. The thunder of the guns swells to a single heavy roar and then breaks up again into separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invisible swift movement, with howls, pipings, and hisses. They are the smaller shells... | the sky, and again green, red, and blue stars. "Bombardment,"<|quote|>says Kat. The thunder of the guns swells to a single heavy roar and then breaks up again into separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invisible swift movement, with howls, pipings, and hisses. T... | light up everything as bright as day, their light shines on us and we see our shadows sharply outlined on the ground. They hover for the space of a minute before they burn out. Immediately fresh ones shoot up to the sky, and again green, red, and blue stars. "Bombardment,"<|quote|>says Kat. The thunder of the guns swe... | of flame from the muzzles of the batteries. Balls of light rise up high above it, silver and red spheres which explode and rain down in showers of red, white, and green stars. French rockets go up, which unfold a silk parachute to the air and drift slowly down. They light up everything as bright as day, their light shi... | feel in front of us before they take the weight of the body. Suddenly the line halts; I bump my face against the roll of wire carried by the man in front and curse. There are some shell-smashed lorries in the road. Another order: "Cigarettes and pipes out," We are getting near the line. In the meantime it has become p... | guns. Farther on the mist ends. Here the heads become figures; coats, trousers, and boots appear out of the mist as from a milky pool. They become a column. The column marches on, straight ahead, the figures resolve themselves into a block, individuals are no longer recognizable, the dark wedge presses onward, fantasti... | from the fear of death by shell-fire, then she is his only friend, his brother, his mother; he stifles his terror and his cries in her silence and her security; she shelters him and gives him a new lease of ten seconds of life, receives him again and often for ever. Earth!--Earth!--Earth! Earth with thy folds, and holl... | on the milky pool. A column--not men at all. Guns and munition wagons are moving along a cross-road. The backs of the horses shine in the moonlight, their movements are beautiful, they toss their heads, and their eyes gleam. The guns and the wagons float before the dim background of the moonlit landscape, the riders in... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"That gave you a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there." | Katczinsky | I am awake, he says:<|quote|>"That gave you a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there."</|quote|>I sit up, I feel | of course. When he sees I am awake, he says:<|quote|>"That gave you a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there."</|quote|>I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. It's good | I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he says:<|quote|>"That gave you a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it ... | see the rockets, and for a moment have the impression that I have fallen asleep at a garden fête. I don't know whether it is morning or evening, I lie in the pale cradle of the twilight, and listen for soft words which will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Sm... | Two men hold a roll and the others spool off the barbed wire. It is that awful stuff with close-set, long spikes. I am not used to unrolling it and tear my hand. After a few hours it is done. But there is still some time before the lorries come. Most of us lie down and sleep. I try also, but it has turned too chilly. N... | hover for the space of a minute before they burn out. Immediately fresh ones shoot up to the sky, and again green, red, and blue stars. "Bombardment," says Kat. The thunder of the guns swells to a single heavy roar and then breaks up again into separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us... | the road troops file. Their helmets gleam softly in the moonlight. The heads and the rifles stand out above the white mist, nodding heads, rocking carriers of guns. Farther on the mist ends. Here the heads become figures; coats, trousers, and boots appear out of the mist as from a milky pool. They become a column. The ... | them. Last autumn the wild geese flew day after day across the path of the shells. The searchlights begin to sweep the dark sky. They slide along it like gigantic tapering rulers. One of them pauses, and quivers a little. Immediately a second is beside him, a black insect is caught between them and tries to escape--the... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says: | No speaker | in the bushes over there."<|quote|>I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says:</|quote|>"Mighty fine fire-works if they | only a nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there."<|quote|>I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says:</|quote|>"Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous." One lands | lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he says: "That gave you a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there."<|quote|>I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. I... | garden fête. I don't know whether it is morning or evening, I lie in the pale cradle of the twilight, and listen for soft words which will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. Th... | stuff with close-set, long spikes. I am not used to unrolling it and tear my hand. After a few hours it is done. But there is still some time before the lorries come. Most of us lie down and sleep. I try also, but it has turned too chilly. Near to the sea one is constantly waked by the cold. Once I fall fast asleep. Th... | the sky, and again green, red, and blue stars. "Bombardment," says Kat. The thunder of the guns swells to a single heavy roar and then breaks up again into separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invisible swift movement, with howls, pipings, and hisses. They are ... | out above the white mist, nodding heads, rocking carriers of guns. Farther on the mist ends. Here the heads become figures; coats, trousers, and boots appear out of the mist as from a milky pool. They become a column. The column marches on, straight ahead, the figures resolve themselves into a block, individuals are no... | our feet and our sticks feel in front of us before they take the weight of the body. Suddenly the line halts; I bump my face against the roll of wire carried by the man in front and curse. There are some shell-smashed lorries in the road. Another order: "Cigarettes and pipes out," We are getting near the line. In the ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous." | Katczinsky | at the front and says:<|quote|>"Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous."</|quote|>One lands behind us. Two | is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says:<|quote|>"Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous."</|quote|>One lands behind us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A | covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he says: "That gave you a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there." I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says:<|quote|>"Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous."<... | listen for soft words which will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he ... | is done. But there is still some time before the lorries come. Most of us lie down and sleep. I try also, but it has turned too chilly. Near to the sea one is constantly waked by the cold. Once I fall fast asleep. Then waking suddenly with a start I do not know where I am. I see the stars, I see the rockets, and for a ... | heavy roar and then breaks up again into separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invisible swift movement, with howls, pipings, and hisses. They are the smaller shells;--and amongst them, booming through the night like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies... | coats, trousers, and boots appear out of the mist as from a milky pool. They become a column. The column marches on, straight ahead, the figures resolve themselves into a block, individuals are no longer recognizable, the dark wedge presses onward, fantastically topped by the heads and weapons floating off on the milky... | like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies. They have a hoarse, distant bellow like a rutting stag and make their way high above the howl and whistle of the smaller shells. It reminds me of flocks of wild geese when I hear them. Last autumn the wild geese flew day after day across the path of the shells. Th... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
One lands behind us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later another comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe. | No speaker | if they weren't so dangerous."<|quote|>One lands behind us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later another comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe.</|quote|>"It makes a glow." Then | and says: "Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous."<|quote|>One lands behind us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later another comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe.</|quote|>"It makes a glow." Then it begins in earnest. We | am awake, he says: "That gave you a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there." I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says: "Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous."<|quote|>One lands behind us. Two recruits jump... | and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he says: "That gave you a fright. It was only ... | before the lorries come. Most of us lie down and sleep. I try also, but it has turned too chilly. Near to the sea one is constantly waked by the cold. Once I fall fast asleep. Then waking suddenly with a start I do not know where I am. I see the stars, I see the rockets, and for a moment have the impression that I have... | separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invisible swift movement, with howls, pipings, and hisses. They are the smaller shells;--and amongst them, booming through the night like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies. They have a hoarse, distant bellow like... | mist as from a milky pool. They become a column. The column marches on, straight ahead, the figures resolve themselves into a block, individuals are no longer recognizable, the dark wedge presses onward, fantastically topped by the heads and weapons floating off on the milky pool. A column--not men at all. Guns and mun... | wild geese when I hear them. Last autumn the wild geese flew day after day across the path of the shells. The searchlights begin to sweep the dark sky. They slide along it like gigantic tapering rulers. One of them pauses, and quivers a little. Immediately a second is beside him, a black insect is caught between them a... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"It makes a glow." | Katczinsky | Kat knocks out his pipe.<|quote|>"It makes a glow."</|quote|>Then it begins in earnest. | comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe.<|quote|>"It makes a glow."</|quote|>Then it begins in earnest. We crawl away as well | feel myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says: "Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous." One lands behind us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later another comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe.<|quote|>"It makes a gl... | then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he says: "That gave you a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there." I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He ga... | is constantly waked by the cold. Once I fall fast asleep. Then waking suddenly with a start I do not know where I am. I see the stars, I see the rockets, and for a moment have the impression that I have fallen asleep at a garden fête. I don't know whether it is morning or evening, I lie in the pale cradle of the twilig... | the smaller shells;--and amongst them, booming through the night like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies. They have a hoarse, distant bellow like a rutting stag and make their way high above the howl and whistle of the smaller shells. It reminds me of flocks of wild geese when I hear them. Last autumn th... | no longer recognizable, the dark wedge presses onward, fantastically topped by the heads and weapons floating off on the milky pool. A column--not men at all. Guns and munition wagons are moving along a cross-road. The backs of the horses shine in the moonlight, their movements are beautiful, they toss their heads, and... | of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invisible swift movement, with howls, pipings, and hisses. They are the smaller shells;--and amongst them, booming through the night like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies. They have a hoarse, distant bellow like a rutting stag and make their way h... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Then it begins in earnest. We crawl away as well as we can in our haste. The next lands fair among us. Two fellows cry out. Green rockets shoot up on the sky-line. Barrage. The mud flies high, fragments whizz past. The crack of the guns is heard long after the roar of the explosions. Beside us lies a fair-heade... | No speaker | pipe. "It makes a glow."<|quote|>Then it begins in earnest. We crawl away as well as we can in our haste. The next lands fair among us. Two fellows cry out. Green rockets shoot up on the sky-line. Barrage. The mud flies high, fragments whizz past. The crack of the guns is heard long after the roar of the explosi... | time. Kat knocks out his pipe. "It makes a glow."<|quote|>Then it begins in earnest. We crawl away as well as we can in our haste. The next lands fair among us. Two fellows cry out. Green rockets shoot up on the sky-line. Barrage. The mud flies high, fragments whizz past. The crack of the guns is heard long afte... | It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says: "Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous." One lands behind us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later another comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe. "It makes a glow."<|quote|>Then it begins in earnes... | silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he says: "That gave you a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there." I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at t... | the cold. Once I fall fast asleep. Then waking suddenly with a start I do not know where I am. I see the stars, I see the rockets, and for a moment have the impression that I have fallen asleep at a garden fête. I don't know whether it is morning or evening, I lie in the pale cradle of the twilight, and listen for soft... | them, booming through the night like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies. They have a hoarse, distant bellow like a rutting stag and make their way high above the howl and whistle of the smaller shells. It reminds me of flocks of wild geese when I hear them. Last autumn the wild geese flew day after day a... | dark wedge presses onward, fantastically topped by the heads and weapons floating off on the milky pool. A column--not men at all. Guns and munition wagons are moving along a cross-road. The backs of the horses shine in the moonlight, their movements are beautiful, they toss their heads, and their eyes gleam. The guns ... | Balls of light rise up high above it, silver and red spheres which explode and rain down in showers of red, white, and green stars. French rockets go up, which unfold a silk parachute to the air and drift slowly down. They light up everything as bright as day, their light shines on us and we see our shadows sharply out... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"All over, kid! It's all right this time." | Paul | the recruit by the shoulder.<|quote|>"All over, kid! It's all right this time."</|quote|>He looks round him dazedly. | I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder.<|quote|>"All over, kid! It's all right this time."</|quote|>He looks round him dazedly. "You'll get used to it | last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder.<|quote|>"All over, kid! It's all right this time."</|quote|>He look... | plenty of meat there, a shot in it can be damned painful. Besides, a man has to lie a whole month on his belly in the hospital, and afterwards he would be almost sure to have a limp. It's got someone pretty badly. Cries are heard between the explosions. At last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dro... | us lies a fair-headed recruit in utter terror. He has buried his face in his hands, his helmet has fallen off. I fish hold of it and try to put it back on his head. He looks up, pushes the helmet off and like a child creeps under my arm, his head close to my breast. The little shoulders heave. Shoulders just like Kemme... | the pale cradle of the twilight, and listen for soft words which will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of... | muzzles of the batteries. Balls of light rise up high above it, silver and red spheres which explode and rain down in showers of red, white, and green stars. French rockets go up, which unfold a silk parachute to the air and drift slowly down. They light up everything as bright as day, their light shines on us and we s... | knocks out his pipe. "It makes a glow." Then it begins in earnest. We crawl away as well as we can in our haste. The next lands fair among us. Two fellows cry out. Green rockets shoot up on the sky-line. Barrage. The mud flies high, fragments whizz past. The crack of the guns is heard long after the roar of the ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
He looks round him dazedly. | No speaker | It's all right this time."<|quote|>He looks round him dazedly.</|quote|>"You'll get used to it | the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time."<|quote|>He looks round him dazedly.</|quote|>"You'll get used to it soon," I tell him. He | over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time."<|quote|>He looks round him dazedly.</|quote|>"You'll get used to ... | can be damned painful. Besides, a man has to lie a whole month on his belly in the hospital, and afterwards he would be almost sure to have a limp. It's got someone pretty badly. Cries are heard between the explosions. At last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a lo... | He has buried his face in his hands, his helmet has fallen off. I fish hold of it and try to put it back on his head. He looks up, pushes the helmet off and like a child creeps under my arm, his head close to my breast. The little shoulders heave. Shoulders just like Kemmerich's. I let him be. So that the helmet should... | for soft words which will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he says: "... | up high above it, silver and red spheres which explode and rain down in showers of red, white, and green stars. French rockets go up, which unfold a silk parachute to the air and drift slowly down. They light up everything as bright as day, their light shines on us and we see our shadows sharply outlined on the ground.... | will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he says: "That gave you a frigh... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"You'll get used to it soon," | Paul | He looks round him dazedly.<|quote|>"You'll get used to it soon,"</|quote|>I tell him. He sees | It's all right this time." He looks round him dazedly.<|quote|>"You'll get used to it soon,"</|quote|>I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it | dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time." He looks round him dazedly.<|quote|>"You'll get used to it soon,"</|quote|>I tell hi... | a man has to lie a whole month on his belly in the hospital, and afterwards he would be almost sure to have a limp. It's got someone pretty badly. Cries are heard between the explosions. At last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the ... | in his hands, his helmet has fallen off. I fish hold of it and try to put it back on his head. He looks up, pushes the helmet off and like a child creeps under my arm, his head close to my breast. The little shoulders heave. Shoulders just like Kemmerich's. I let him be. So that the helmet should be of some use I stick... | come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he says: "That gave you a fright. I... | and red spheres which explode and rain down in showers of red, white, and green stars. French rockets go up, which unfold a silk parachute to the air and drift slowly down. They light up everything as bright as day, their light shines on us and we see our shadows sharply outlined on the ground. They hover for the space... | see the stars, I see the rockets, and for a moment have the impression that I have fallen asleep at a garden fête. I don't know whether it is morning or evening, I lie in the pale cradle of the twilight, and listen for soft words which will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic,... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he turns fiery red and looks confused. Cautiously he reaches his hand to his behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it. | No speaker | get used to it soon,"<|quote|>I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he turns fiery red and looks confused. Cautiously he reaches his hand to his behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it.</|qu... | looks round him dazedly. "You'll get used to it soon,"<|quote|>I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he turns fiery red and looks confused. Cautiously he reaches his hand to his behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I h... | a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time." He looks round him dazedly. "You'll get used to it soon,"<|quote|>I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gra... | whole month on his belly in the hospital, and afterwards he would be almost sure to have a limp. It's got someone pretty badly. Cries are heard between the explosions. At last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently the... | fallen off. I fish hold of it and try to put it back on his head. He looks up, pushes the helmet off and like a child creeps under my arm, his head close to my breast. The little shoulders heave. Shoulders just like Kemmerich's. I let him be. So that the helmet should be of some use I stick it on his behind;--not for a... | I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he says: "That gave you a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it landed i... | rain down in showers of red, white, and green stars. French rockets go up, which unfold a silk parachute to the air and drift slowly down. They light up everything as bright as day, their light shines on us and we see our shadows sharply outlined on the ground. They hover for the space of a minute before they burn out.... | a moment have the impression that I have fallen asleep at a garden fête. I don't know whether it is morning or evening, I lie in the pale cradle of the twilight, and listen for soft words which will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"That's no disgrace," | Paul | stuck his helmet over it.<|quote|>"That's no disgrace,"</|quote|>I reassure him: "Many's the | wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it.<|quote|>"That's no disgrace,"</|quote|>I reassure him: "Many's the man before you has had | He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he turns fiery red and looks confused. Cautiously he reaches his hand to his behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it.<|quote|>"That's no disgrace,"</|quote|>I reassure hi... | rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time." He looks round him dazedly. "You'll get used to it soon," I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. ... | should be of some use I stick it on his behind;--not for a jest, but out of consideration, since that is his highest part. And though there is plenty of meat there, a shot in it can be damned painful. Besides, a man has to lie a whole month on his belly in the hospital, and afterwards he would be almost sure to have a ... | a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there." I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says: "Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous." One lands behind us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later a... | space of a minute before they burn out. Immediately fresh ones shoot up to the sky, and again green, red, and blue stars. "Bombardment," says Kat. The thunder of the guns swells to a single heavy roar and then breaks up again into separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems... | myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says: "Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous." One lands behind us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later another comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe. "It makes a glow." Then it ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I reassure him: | No speaker | over it. "That's no disgrace,"<|quote|>I reassure him:</|quote|>"Many's the man before you | I had stuck his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace,"<|quote|>I reassure him:</|quote|>"Many's the man before you has had his pants full | helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he turns fiery red and looks confused. Cautiously he reaches his hand to his behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace,"<|quote|>I reassure him:</|quote|>"Many's t... | to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time." He looks round him dazedly. "You'll get used to it soon," I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he... | some use I stick it on his behind;--not for a jest, but out of consideration, since that is his highest part. And though there is plenty of meat there, a shot in it can be damned painful. Besides, a man has to lie a whole month on his belly in the hospital, and afterwards he would be almost sure to have a limp. It's go... | was only a nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there." I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says: "Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous." One lands behind us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later another comes ... | minute before they burn out. Immediately fresh ones shoot up to the sky, and again green, red, and blue stars. "Bombardment," says Kat. The thunder of the guns swells to a single heavy roar and then breaks up again into separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invis... | covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he says: "That gave you a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there." I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says: "Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous." One land... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Many's the man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----" | Paul | no disgrace," I reassure him:<|quote|>"Many's the man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----"</|quote|>* * He goes off. | his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace," I reassure him:<|quote|>"Many's the man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----"</|quote|>* * He goes off. Things become quieter, but the | it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he turns fiery red and looks confused. Cautiously he reaches his hand to his behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace," I reassure him:<|quote|>"Many's the man before you has had... | Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time." He looks round him dazedly. "You'll get used to it soon," I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he turns fiery... | stick it on his behind;--not for a jest, but out of consideration, since that is his highest part. And though there is plenty of meat there, a shot in it can be damned painful. Besides, a man has to lie a whole month on his belly in the hospital, and afterwards he would be almost sure to have a limp. It's got someone p... | nose-cap, it landed in the bushes over there." I sit up, I feel myself strangely alone. It's good Kat is there. He gazes thoughtfully at the front and says: "Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous." One lands behind us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later another comes over, neare... | burn out. Immediately fresh ones shoot up to the sky, and again green, red, and blue stars. "Bombardment," says Kat. The thunder of the guns swells to a single heavy roar and then breaks up again into separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invisible swift movement... | cradle of the twilight, and listen for soft words which will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of course. ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
* * He goes off. Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease. | No speaker | your underpants away. Get along----"<|quote|>* * He goes off. Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease.</|quote|>"What's up, Albert?" I ask. | that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----"<|quote|>* * He goes off. Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease.</|quote|>"What's up, Albert?" I ask. "A couple of columns over | me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace," I reassure him: "Many's the man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----"<|quote|>* * He goes off. Th... | all right this time." He looks round him dazedly. "You'll get used to it soon," I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he turns fiery red and looks confused. Cautiously he reaches his hand to his behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn... | a shot in it can be damned painful. Besides, a man has to lie a whole month on his belly in the hospital, and afterwards he would be almost sure to have a limp. It's got someone pretty badly. Cries are heard between the explosions. At last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves.... | front and says: "Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous." One lands behind us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later another comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe. "It makes a glow." Then it begins in earnest. We crawl away as well as we can in our haste. The next l... | to a single heavy roar and then breaks up again into separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invisible swift movement, with howls, pipings, and hisses. They are the smaller shells;--and amongst them, booming through the night like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and... | gazes thoughtfully at the front and says: "Mighty fine fire-works if they weren't so dangerous." One lands behind us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later another comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe. "It makes a glow." Then it begins in earnest. We crawl away as well as we can... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"What's up, Albert?" | Paul | the cries do not cease.<|quote|>"What's up, Albert?"</|quote|>I ask. "A couple of | off. Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease.<|quote|>"What's up, Albert?"</|quote|>I ask. "A couple of columns over there have got | his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace," I reassure him: "Many's the man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----" * * He goes off. Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease.<|quote|>"What's up, Albert?"</|quote|>... | soon," I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he turns fiery red and looks confused. Cautiously he reaches his hand to his behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace," I rea... | a whole month on his belly in the hospital, and afterwards he would be almost sure to have a limp. It's got someone pretty badly. Cries are heard between the explosions. At last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently t... | us. Two recruits jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later another comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe. "It makes a glow." Then it begins in earnest. We crawl away as well as we can in our haste. The next lands fair among us. Two fellows cry out. Green rockets shoot up on the sky-line. Barrage... | dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invisible swift movement, with howls, pipings, and hisses. They are the smaller shells;--and amongst them, booming through the night like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies. They have a hoarse, distant bellow like a rutting stag and make ... | put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered pipe of course. When he sees I am awake, he says: "That gave you a fright. It was only a nose-cap, it landed in ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I ask. | No speaker | not cease. "What's up, Albert?"<|quote|>I ask.</|quote|>"A couple of columns over | quieter, but the cries do not cease. "What's up, Albert?"<|quote|>I ask.</|quote|>"A couple of columns over there have got it in | it. "That's no disgrace," I reassure him: "Many's the man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----" * * He goes off. Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease. "What's up, Albert?"<|quote|>I ask.</|quote|>"A couple... | him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he turns fiery red and looks confused. Cautiously he reaches his hand to his behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace," I reassure him: "Many's t... | on his belly in the hospital, and afterwards he would be almost sure to have a limp. It's got someone pretty badly. Cries are heard between the explosions. At last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently there's an atta... | jump up terrified. A couple of minutes later another comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe. "It makes a glow." Then it begins in earnest. We crawl away as well as we can in our haste. The next lands fair among us. Two fellows cry out. Green rockets shoot up on the sky-line. Barrage. The mud flies ... | the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invisible swift movement, with howls, pipings, and hisses. They are the smaller shells;--and amongst them, booming through the night like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies. They have a hoarse, distant bellow like a rutting stag and make their way high... | constantly waked by the cold. Once I fall fast asleep. Then waking suddenly with a start I do not know where I am. I see the stars, I see the rockets, and for a moment have the impression that I have fallen asleep at a garden fête. I don't know whether it is morning or evening, I lie in the pale cradle of the twilight,... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
The cries continue. It is not men, they could not cry so terribly. | No speaker | got it in the neck."<|quote|>The cries continue. It is not men, they could not cry so terribly.</|quote|>"Wounded horses," says Kat. It's | of columns over there have got it in the neck."<|quote|>The cries continue. It is not men, they could not cry so terribly.</|quote|>"Wounded horses," says Kat. It's unendurable. It is the moaning | his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----" * * He goes off. Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease. "What's up, Albert?" I ask. "A couple of columns over there have got it in the neck."<|quote|>The cries continue. It is not men, the... | suddenly he turns fiery red and looks confused. Cautiously he reaches his hand to his behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace," I reassure him: "Many's the man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment... | have a limp. It's got someone pretty badly. Cries are heard between the explosions. At last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recrui... | Kat knocks out his pipe. "It makes a glow." Then it begins in earnest. We crawl away as well as we can in our haste. The next lands fair among us. Two fellows cry out. Green rockets shoot up on the sky-line. Barrage. The mud flies high, fragments whizz past. The crack of the guns is heard long after the roar of ... | pipings, and hisses. They are the smaller shells;--and amongst them, booming through the night like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies. They have a hoarse, distant bellow like a rutting stag and make their way high above the howl and whistle of the smaller shells. It reminds me of flocks of wild geese wh... | lie in the pale cradle of the twilight, and listen for soft words which will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and smokes his pipe--a covered ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Wounded horses," | Katczinsky | could not cry so terribly.<|quote|>"Wounded horses,"</|quote|>says Kat. It's unendurable. It | It is not men, they could not cry so terribly.<|quote|>"Wounded horses,"</|quote|>says Kat. It's unendurable. It is the moaning of the | throw your underpants away. Get along----" * * He goes off. Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease. "What's up, Albert?" I ask. "A couple of columns over there have got it in the neck." The cries continue. It is not men, they could not cry so terribly.<|quote|>"Wounded horses,"</|quote|>says Kat. It's un... | to his behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace," I reassure him: "Many's the man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----" * ... | explosions. At last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time." He looks ... | earnest. We crawl away as well as we can in our haste. The next lands fair among us. Two fellows cry out. Green rockets shoot up on the sky-line. Barrage. The mud flies high, fragments whizz past. The crack of the guns is heard long after the roar of the explosions. Beside us lies a fair-headed recruit in utter terror.... | night like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies. They have a hoarse, distant bellow like a rutting stag and make their way high above the howl and whistle of the smaller shells. It reminds me of flocks of wild geese when I hear them. Last autumn the wild geese flew day after day across the path of the shel... | like Kemmerich's. I let him be. So that the helmet should be of some use I stick it on his behind;--not for a jest, but out of consideration, since that is his highest part. And though there is plenty of meat there, a shot in it can be damned painful. Besides, a man has to lie a whole month on his belly in the hospital... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
says Kat. It's unendurable. It is the moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning. We are pale. Detering stands up. | No speaker | cry so terribly. "Wounded horses,"<|quote|>says Kat. It's unendurable. It is the moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning. We are pale. Detering stands up.</|quote|>"God! For God's sake! Shoot | not men, they could not cry so terribly. "Wounded horses,"<|quote|>says Kat. It's unendurable. It is the moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning. We are pale. Detering stands up.</|quote|>"God! For God's sake! Shoot them!" He is a farmer | underpants away. Get along----" * * He goes off. Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease. "What's up, Albert?" I ask. "A couple of columns over there have got it in the neck." The cries continue. It is not men, they could not cry so terribly. "Wounded horses,"<|quote|>says Kat. It's unendurable. It is th... | behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace," I reassure him: "Many's the man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----" * * He g... | last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time." He looks round him dazed... | crawl away as well as we can in our haste. The next lands fair among us. Two fellows cry out. Green rockets shoot up on the sky-line. Barrage. The mud flies high, fragments whizz past. The crack of the guns is heard long after the roar of the explosions. Beside us lies a fair-headed recruit in utter terror. He has buri... | an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies. They have a hoarse, distant bellow like a rutting stag and make their way high above the howl and whistle of the smaller shells. It reminds me of flocks of wild geese when I hear them. Last autumn the wild geese flew day after day across the path of the shells. The sea... | is morning or evening, I lie in the pale cradle of the twilight, and listen for soft words which will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only a second, then I recognize the silhouette of Katczinsky. The old veteran, he sits quietly and sm... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"God! For God's sake! Shoot them!" | Detering | are pale. Detering stands up.<|quote|>"God! For God's sake! Shoot them!"</|quote|>He is a farmer and | with terror, and groaning. We are pale. Detering stands up.<|quote|>"God! For God's sake! Shoot them!"</|quote|>He is a farmer and very fond of horses. It | got it in the neck." The cries continue. It is not men, they could not cry so terribly. "Wounded horses," says Kat. It's unendurable. It is the moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning. We are pale. Detering stands up.<|quote|>"God! For God's sake! Sh... | man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----" * * He goes off. Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease. "What's up, Albert?" I ask. "A couple of columns over there have got it in the neck." The cries continue. It ... | an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time." He looks round him dazedly. "You'll get used to it soon," I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he turns fiery red and looks conf... | flies high, fragments whizz past. The crack of the guns is heard long after the roar of the explosions. Beside us lies a fair-headed recruit in utter terror. He has buried his face in his hands, his helmet has fallen off. I fish hold of it and try to put it back on his head. He looks up, pushes the helmet off and like ... | the smaller shells. It reminds me of flocks of wild geese when I hear them. Last autumn the wild geese flew day after day across the path of the shells. The searchlights begin to sweep the dark sky. They slide along it like gigantic tapering rulers. One of them pauses, and quivers a little. Immediately a second is besi... | comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe. "It makes a glow." Then it begins in earnest. We crawl away as well as we can in our haste. The next lands fair among us. Two fellows cry out. Green rockets shoot up on the sky-line. Barrage. The mud flies high, fragments whizz past. The crack of the guns is... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
He is a farmer and very fond of horses. It gets under his skin. Then as if deliberately the fire dies down again. The screaming of the beasts becomes louder. One can no longer distinguish whence in this now quiet, silvery landscape it comes; ghostly, invisible, it is everywhere, between heaven and earth it rolls on ... | No speaker | For God's sake! Shoot them!"<|quote|>He is a farmer and very fond of horses. It gets under his skin. Then as if deliberately the fire dies down again. The screaming of the beasts becomes louder. One can no longer distinguish whence in this now quiet, silvery landscape it comes; ghostly, invisible, it is everywhere, ... | pale. Detering stands up. "God! For God's sake! Shoot them!"<|quote|>He is a farmer and very fond of horses. It gets under his skin. Then as if deliberately the fire dies down again. The screaming of the beasts becomes louder. One can no longer distinguish whence in this now quiet, silvery landscape it comes; ghos... | cries continue. It is not men, they could not cry so terribly. "Wounded horses," says Kat. It's unendurable. It is the moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning. We are pale. Detering stands up. "God! For God's sake! Shoot them!"<|quote|>He is a farmer ... | pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----" * * He goes off. Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease. "What's up, Albert?" I ask. "A couple of columns over there have got it in the neck." The cries continue. It is not men, they could not ... | it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time." He looks round him dazedly. "You'll get used to it soon," I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly he turns fiery red and looks confused. Cautiously he reaches hi... | crack of the guns is heard long after the roar of the explosions. Beside us lies a fair-headed recruit in utter terror. He has buried his face in his hands, his helmet has fallen off. I fish hold of it and try to put it back on his head. He looks up, pushes the helmet off and like a child creeps under my arm, his head ... | of flocks of wild geese when I hear them. Last autumn the wild geese flew day after day across the path of the shells. The searchlights begin to sweep the dark sky. They slide along it like gigantic tapering rulers. One of them pauses, and quivers a little. Immediately a second is beside him, a black insect is caught b... | have a limp. It's got someone pretty badly. Cries are heard between the explosions. At last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recrui... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Shoot them! Shoot them, can't you? damn you again!" | Detering | Detering raves and yells out:<|quote|>"Shoot them! Shoot them, can't you? damn you again!"</|quote|>"They must look after the | earth it rolls on immeasurably. Detering raves and yells out:<|quote|>"Shoot them! Shoot them, can't you? damn you again!"</|quote|>"They must look after the men first," says Kat quietly. | his skin. Then as if deliberately the fire dies down again. The screaming of the beasts becomes louder. One can no longer distinguish whence in this now quiet, silvery landscape it comes; ghostly, invisible, it is everywhere, between heaven and earth it rolls on immeasurably. Detering raves and yells out:<|quote|>"Shoo... | "Wounded horses," says Kat. It's unendurable. It is the moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning. We are pale. Detering stands up. "God! For God's sake! Shoot them!" He is a farmer and very fond of horses. It gets under his skin. Then as if deliberate... | to his behind and looks at me dismally. I understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace," I reassure him: "Many's the man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----" * ... | my arm, his head close to my breast. The little shoulders heave. Shoulders just like Kemmerich's. I let him be. So that the helmet should be of some use I stick it on his behind;--not for a jest, but out of consideration, since that is his highest part. And though there is plenty of meat there, a shot in it can be damn... | tries to escape--the airman. He hesitates, is blinded and falls. * * At regular intervals we ram in the iron stakes. Two men hold a roll and the others spool off the barbed wire. It is that awful stuff with close-set, long spikes. I am not used to unrolling it and tear my hand. After a few hours it is done. But there i... | his face in his hands, his helmet has fallen off. I fish hold of it and try to put it back on his head. He looks up, pushes the helmet off and like a child creeps under my arm, his head close to my breast. The little shoulders heave. Shoulders just like Kemmerich's. I let him be. So that the helmet should be of some us... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"They must look after the men first," | Katczinsky | can't you? damn you again!"<|quote|>"They must look after the men first,"</|quote|>says Kat quietly. We stand | out: "Shoot them! Shoot them, can't you? damn you again!"<|quote|>"They must look after the men first,"</|quote|>says Kat quietly. We stand up and try to see | down again. The screaming of the beasts becomes louder. One can no longer distinguish whence in this now quiet, silvery landscape it comes; ghostly, invisible, it is everywhere, between heaven and earth it rolls on immeasurably. Detering raves and yells out: "Shoot them! Shoot them, can't you? damn you again!"<|quote|... | moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning. We are pale. Detering stands up. "God! For God's sake! Shoot them!" He is a farmer and very fond of horses. It gets under his skin. Then as if deliberately the fire dies down again. The screaming of the beasts be... | understand at once: Gun-shy. That wasn't the reason I had stuck his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace," I reassure him: "Many's the man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----" * * He goes off. Things become quieter, bu... | little shoulders heave. Shoulders just like Kemmerich's. I let him be. So that the helmet should be of some use I stick it on his behind;--not for a jest, but out of consideration, since that is his highest part. And though there is plenty of meat there, a shot in it can be damned painful. Besides, a man has to lie a w... | falls. * * At regular intervals we ram in the iron stakes. Two men hold a roll and the others spool off the barbed wire. It is that awful stuff with close-set, long spikes. I am not used to unrolling it and tear my hand. After a few hours it is done. But there is still some time before the lorries come. Most of us lie ... | between the explosions. At last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
says Kat quietly. We stand up and try to see where it is. If we could only see the animals we should be able to endure it better. Müller has a pair of glasses. We see a dark group, bearers with stretchers, and larger black clumps moving about. Those are the wounded horses. But not all of them. Some gallop away i... | No speaker | look after the men first,"<|quote|>says Kat quietly. We stand up and try to see where it is. If we could only see the animals we should be able to endure it better. Müller has a pair of glasses. We see a dark group, bearers with stretchers, and larger black clumps moving about. Those are the wounded horses. But n... | damn you again!" "They must look after the men first,"<|quote|>says Kat quietly. We stand up and try to see where it is. If we could only see the animals we should be able to endure it better. Müller has a pair of glasses. We see a dark group, bearers with stretchers, and larger black clumps moving about. Those ar... | becomes louder. One can no longer distinguish whence in this now quiet, silvery landscape it comes; ghostly, invisible, it is everywhere, between heaven and earth it rolls on immeasurably. Detering raves and yells out: "Shoot them! Shoot them, can't you? damn you again!" "They must look after the men first,"<|quote|>s... | martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning. We are pale. Detering stands up. "God! For God's sake! Shoot them!" He is a farmer and very fond of horses. It gets under his skin. Then as if deliberately the fire dies down again. The screaming of the beasts becomes louder. One can no longer... | reason I had stuck his helmet over it. "That's no disgrace," I reassure him: "Many's the man before you has had his pants full after the first bombardment. Go behind that bush there and throw your underpants away. Get along----" * * He goes off. Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease. "What's up, Albert?... | I let him be. So that the helmet should be of some use I stick it on his behind;--not for a jest, but out of consideration, since that is his highest part. And though there is plenty of meat there, a shot in it can be damned painful. Besides, a man has to lie a whole month on his belly in the hospital, and afterwards h... | ram in the iron stakes. Two men hold a roll and the others spool off the barbed wire. It is that awful stuff with close-set, long spikes. I am not used to unrolling it and tear my hand. After a few hours it is done. But there is still some time before the lorries come. Most of us lie down and sleep. I try also, but it ... | another comes over, nearer this time. Kat knocks out his pipe. "It makes a glow." Then it begins in earnest. We crawl away as well as we can in our haste. The next lands fair among us. Two fellows cry out. Green rockets shoot up on the sky-line. Barrage. The mud flies high, fragments whizz past. The crack of the... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Are you mad----?" | Katczinsky | it up in the air.<|quote|>"Are you mad----?"</|quote|>Detering trembles and throws his | gun and aims. Kat hits it up in the air.<|quote|>"Are you mad----?"</|quote|>Detering trembles and throws his rifle on the ground. We | them. Some gallop away in the distance, fall down, and then run on farther. The belly of one is ripped open, the guts trail out. He becomes tangled in them and falls, then he stands up again. Detering raises his gun and aims. Kat hits it up in the air.<|quote|>"Are you mad----?"</|quote|>Detering trembles and throws hi... | try to see where it is. If we could only see the animals we should be able to endure it better. Müller has a pair of glasses. We see a dark group, bearers with stretchers, and larger black clumps moving about. Those are the wounded horses. But not all of them. Some gallop away in the distance, fall down, and then run o... | terror, and groaning. We are pale. Detering stands up. "God! For God's sake! Shoot them!" He is a farmer and very fond of horses. It gets under his skin. Then as if deliberately the fire dies down again. The screaming of the beasts becomes louder. One can no longer distinguish whence in this now quiet, silvery lan... | Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time." He looks round him dazedly. "You'll get used to it soon," I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes ... | rockets, and for a moment have the impression that I have fallen asleep at a garden fête. I don't know whether it is morning or evening, I lie in the pale cradle of the twilight, and listen for soft words which will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth ski... | lies a fair-headed recruit in utter terror. He has buried his face in his hands, his helmet has fallen off. I fish hold of it and try to put it back on his head. He looks up, pushes the helmet off and like a child creeps under my arm, his head close to my breast. The little shoulders heave. Shoulders just like Kemmeric... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Detering trembles and throws his rifle on the ground. We sit down and hold our ears. But this appalling noise, these groans and screams penetrate, they penetrate everywhere. We can bear almost anything. But now the sweat breaks out on us. We must get up and run, no matter where, but where these cries can no longer... | No speaker | the air. "Are you mad----?"<|quote|>Detering trembles and throws his rifle on the ground. We sit down and hold our ears. But this appalling noise, these groans and screams penetrate, they penetrate everywhere. We can bear almost anything. But now the sweat breaks out on us. We must get up and run, no matter where,... | Kat hits it up in the air. "Are you mad----?"<|quote|>Detering trembles and throws his rifle on the ground. We sit down and hold our ears. But this appalling noise, these groans and screams penetrate, they penetrate everywhere. We can bear almost anything. But now the sweat breaks out on us. We must get up and run... | away in the distance, fall down, and then run on farther. The belly of one is ripped open, the guts trail out. He becomes tangled in them and falls, then he stands up again. Detering raises his gun and aims. Kat hits it up in the air. "Are you mad----?"<|quote|>Detering trembles and throws his rifle on the ground. We ... | where it is. If we could only see the animals we should be able to endure it better. Müller has a pair of glasses. We see a dark group, bearers with stretchers, and larger black clumps moving about. Those are the wounded horses. But not all of them. Some gallop away in the distance, fall down, and then run on farther. ... | We are pale. Detering stands up. "God! For God's sake! Shoot them!" He is a farmer and very fond of horses. It gets under his skin. Then as if deliberately the fire dies down again. The screaming of the beasts becomes louder. One can no longer distinguish whence in this now quiet, silvery landscape it comes; ghost... | up to the sky. Apparently there's an attack coming. Where we are it is still quiet. I sit up and shake the recruit by the shoulder. "All over, kid! It's all right this time." He looks round him dazedly. "You'll get used to it soon," I tell him. He sees his helmet and puts it on. Gradually he comes to. Then suddenly... | a moment have the impression that I have fallen asleep at a garden fête. I don't know whether it is morning or evening, I lie in the pale cradle of the twilight, and listen for soft words which will come, soft and near--am I crying? I put my hand to my eyes, it is so fantastic, am I a child? Smooth skin:--it lasts only... | a whole month on his belly in the hospital, and afterwards he would be almost sure to have a limp. It's got someone pretty badly. Cries are heard between the explosions. At last it grows quiet. The fire has lifted over us and is now dropping on the reserves. We risk a look. Red rockets shoot up to the sky. Apparently t... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
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