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That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand up. I hold my thumb against the button of the bell till it becomes numb. Perhaps the sister has fallen asleep. They certainly have a great deal to do and are all overworked day after day. And added to that is the everlasting praying. | No speaker | Can't anybody make a light?"<|quote|>That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand up. I hold my thumb against the button of the bell till it becomes numb. Perhaps the sister has fallen asleep. They certainly have a great deal to do and are all overworked day after day. And added t... | again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?"<|quote|>That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand up. I hold my thumb against the button of the bell till it becomes numb. Perhaps the sister has fallen asleep. They certainly have a great deal to do and are all overwork... | in an appearance. In our wing there is only one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?"<|quote|>That cannot be done either. The switch i... | shake up his pillow;--in the end the buxom old body grumbled bad temperedly and slammed the doors. Now no doubt she thinks it is something of the same sort and so she is not coming. We wait. Then Franz says: "Ring again." I do so. Still she does not put in an appearance. In our wing there is only one night sister, pe... | a curly black-haired fellow, has the worst injury;--a severe lung wound. Franz Wächter, alongside him, has a shot in the arm which didn't look too bad at first. But the third night he calls out to us, telling us to ring, he thinks he has a hæmorrhage. I ring loudly. The night sister does not come. We have been making r... | excited; why should he report himself? "You?" "Yes. I was annoyed because we were waked up unnecessarily and lost my senses so that I did not know what I was doing." He talks like a book. "What is your name?" "Reinforcement-Reservist Josef Hamacher." The inspector departs. We are all curious. "But why did you say you... | there a couple of days already explains it to us: "Up here in the corridor every morning the sisters say prayers. They call it Morning Devotion. And so that you can get your share, they leave the door open." No doubt it is well meant, but it gives us aches in our head and bones. "Such an absurdity!" I say, "just when... | not responsible for my actions. Ever since then I've had a grand time. No one dares to annoy me. And nobody does anything to me." "I reported myself because the shot amused me. If they open the door again to-morrow we will pitch another." We are overjoyed. With Josef Hamacher in our midst we can now risk anything. T... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Should we smash a bottle?" | Josef Hamacher | that is the everlasting praying.<|quote|>"Should we smash a bottle?"</|quote|>asks Josef Hamacher of the | after day. And added to that is the everlasting praying.<|quote|>"Should we smash a bottle?"</|quote|>asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence. "She wouldn't hear | and none of us can stand up. I hold my thumb against the button of the bell till it becomes numb. Perhaps the sister has fallen asleep. They certainly have a great deal to do and are all overworked day after day. And added to that is the everlasting praying.<|quote|>"Should we smash a bottle?"</|quote|>asks Josef Hamac... | sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand up. I hold my thumb ag... | heavy demands on her during the night, because we have all been freshly bandaged, and so have a good deal of pain. One wants his leg placed so, another so, a third wants water, a fourth wants her to shake up his pillow;--in the end the buxom old body grumbled bad temperedly and slammed the doors. Now no doubt she think... | at all!" He grins. "That doesn't matter. I have a shooting licence." Then, of course, we all understand. Whoever has a shooting licence can do just whatever he pleases. "Yes," he explains, "I got a crack in the head and they presented me with a certificate to say that I was periodically not responsible for my actions... | when a man dropped off to sleep." "All the light cases are up here, that's why they do it here," he replies. Albert groans. I get furious and call out: "Be quiet out there!" A minute later a sister appears. In her black and white dress she looks like a beautiful tea-cosy. "Shut the door, will you, sister?" says some... | calls out to us, telling us to ring, he thinks he has a hæmorrhage. I ring loudly. The night sister does not come. We have been making rather heavy demands on her during the night, because we have all been freshly bandaged, and so have a good deal of pain. One wants his leg placed so, another so, a third wants water, a... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence. | No speaker | "Should we smash a bottle?"<|quote|>asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence.</|quote|>"She wouldn't hear that any | that is the everlasting praying. "Should we smash a bottle?"<|quote|>asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence.</|quote|>"She wouldn't hear that any more than the bell." At | stand up. I hold my thumb against the button of the bell till it becomes numb. Perhaps the sister has fallen asleep. They certainly have a great deal to do and are all overworked day after day. And added to that is the everlasting praying. "Should we smash a bottle?"<|quote|>asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence.... | to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand up. I hold my thumb against the button of the bell till ... | the night, because we have all been freshly bandaged, and so have a good deal of pain. One wants his leg placed so, another so, a third wants water, a fourth wants her to shake up his pillow;--in the end the buxom old body grumbled bad temperedly and slammed the doors. Now no doubt she thinks it is something of the sam... | doesn't matter. I have a shooting licence." Then, of course, we all understand. Whoever has a shooting licence can do just whatever he pleases. "Yes," he explains, "I got a crack in the head and they presented me with a certificate to say that I was periodically not responsible for my actions. Ever since then I've ha... | to sleep." "All the light cases are up here, that's why they do it here," he replies. Albert groans. I get furious and call out: "Be quiet out there!" A minute later a sister appears. In her black and white dress she looks like a beautiful tea-cosy. "Shut the door, will you, sister?" says someone. "We are saying pra... | the bottle?" he asks. Before I can think whether I should report myself, someone says: "I did." A man with a bristling beard sits up. Everyone is excited; why should he report himself? "You?" "Yes. I was annoyed because we were waked up unnecessarily and lost my senses so that I did not know what I was doing." He ta... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: | No speaker | any more than the bell."<|quote|>At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says:</|quote|>"Why did not someone say | licence. "She wouldn't hear that any more than the bell."<|quote|>At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says:</|quote|>"Why did not someone say I was wanted?" "We did | Perhaps the sister has fallen asleep. They certainly have a great deal to do and are all overworked day after day. And added to that is the everlasting praying. "Should we smash a bottle?" asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence. "She wouldn't hear that any more than the bell."<|quote|>At last the door opens. The ... | I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand up. I hold my thumb against the button of the bell till it becomes numb. Perhaps the sister has fallen asleep. They certainly have a ... | pain. One wants his leg placed so, another so, a third wants water, a fourth wants her to shake up his pillow;--in the end the buxom old body grumbled bad temperedly and slammed the doors. Now no doubt she thinks it is something of the same sort and so she is not coming. We wait. Then Franz says: "Ring again." I do so.... | shooting licence can do just whatever he pleases. "Yes," he explains, "I got a crack in the head and they presented me with a certificate to say that I was periodically not responsible for my actions. Ever since then I've had a grand time. No one dares to annoy me. And nobody does anything to me." "I reported myself... | replies. Albert groans. I get furious and call out: "Be quiet out there!" A minute later a sister appears. In her black and white dress she looks like a beautiful tea-cosy. "Shut the door, will you, sister?" says someone. "We are saying prayers, that is why the door is open," she responds. "But we want to go on sleepi... | Wächter, alongside him, has a shot in the arm which didn't look too bad at first. But the third night he calls out to us, telling us to ring, he thinks he has a hæmorrhage. I ring loudly. The night sister does not come. We have been making rather heavy demands on her during the night, because we have all been freshly b... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
He has been bleeding badly and she binds him up. In the morning we look at his face, it has become sharp and yellow, whereas the evening before he looked almost healthy. Now a sister comes oftener. * * Sometimes there are red-cross voluntary aid sisters. They are pleasant, but often rather unskilled. They frequen... | No speaker | of us here can walk."<|quote|>He has been bleeding badly and she binds him up. In the morning we look at his face, it has become sharp and yellow, whereas the evening before he looked almost healthy. Now a sister comes oftener. * * Sometimes there are red-cross voluntary aid sisters. They are pleasant, but often r... | "We did ring. And none of us here can walk."<|quote|>He has been bleeding badly and she binds him up. In the morning we look at his face, it has become sharp and yellow, whereas the evening before he looked almost healthy. Now a sister comes oftener. * * Sometimes there are red-cross voluntary aid sisters. They a... | shooting licence. "She wouldn't hear that any more than the bell." At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I was wanted?" "We did ring. And none of us here can walk."<|quote|>He has been bleeding badly and she... | thumb against the button of the bell till it becomes numb. Perhaps the sister has fallen asleep. They certainly have a great deal to do and are all overworked day after day. And added to that is the everlasting praying. "Should we smash a bottle?" asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence. "She wouldn't hear that any... | thinks it is something of the same sort and so she is not coming. We wait. Then Franz says: "Ring again." I do so. Still she does not put in an appearance. In our wing there is only one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Other... | I've had a grand time. No one dares to annoy me. And nobody does anything to me." "I reported myself because the shot amused me. If they open the door again to-morrow we will pitch another." We are overjoyed. With Josef Hamacher in our midst we can now risk anything. Then come the soundless, flat trollies to take us... | "We are saying prayers, that is why the door is open," she responds. "But we want to go on sleeping----" "Prayer is better than sleep," she stands there and smiles innocently. "And it is seven o'clock already." Albert groans again. "Shut the door," I snort. She is quite disconcerted. Apparently she cannot understand.... | and so have a good deal of pain. One wants his leg placed so, another so, a third wants water, a fourth wants her to shake up his pillow;--in the end the buxom old body grumbled bad temperedly and slammed the doors. Now no doubt she thinks it is something of the same sort and so she is not coming. We wait. Then Franz s... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." | Josef Hamacher | Hamacher knows all about it:<|quote|>"We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room."</|quote|>"What do you mean, Dead | does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it:<|quote|>"We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room."</|quote|>"What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying | he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it:<|quote|>"We shan't see him again. They have put him in the d... | no one who would not do anything for Sister Libertine, this marvellous sister, who spreads good cheer through the whole wing even when she can only be seen in the distance. And there are others like her. We would go through fire for her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civili... | the morning we look at his face, it has become sharp and yellow, whereas the evening before he looked almost healthy. Now a sister comes oftener. * * Sometimes there are red-cross voluntary aid sisters. They are pleasant, but often rather unskilled. They frequently give us pain when re-making our beds, and then are so ... | is not coming. We wait. Then Franz says: "Ring again." I do so. Still she does not put in an appearance. In our wing there is only one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandag... | one else who wears a long dagger and shoulder straps, but is really a clerk, and is never considered even by a recruit as a real officer. So we let him talk. What can they do to us, anyway---- "Who threw the bottle?" he asks. Before I can think whether I should report myself, someone says: "I did." A man with a bristl... | come. We have been making rather heavy demands on her during the night, because we have all been freshly bandaged, and so have a good deal of pain. One wants his leg placed so, another so, a third wants water, a fourth wants her to shake up his pillow;--in the end the buxom old body grumbled bad temperedly and slammed ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"What do you mean, Dead Room?" | Kropp | him in the dead room."<|quote|>"What do you mean, Dead Room?"</|quote|>asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" | him again. They have put him in the dead room."<|quote|>"What do you mean, Dead Room?"</|quote|>asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?" "A | hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room."<|quote|>"What do you mean, Dead Room?"</|quote|>asks Kropp. "... | who spreads good cheer through the whole wing even when she can only be seen in the distance. And there are others like her. We would go through fire for her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the cre... | whereas the evening before he looked almost healthy. Now a sister comes oftener. * * Sometimes there are red-cross voluntary aid sisters. They are pleasant, but often rather unskilled. They frequently give us pain when re-making our beds, and then are so frightened that they hurt us still more. The nuns are more reliab... | Still she does not put in an appearance. In our wing there is only one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either... | a clerk, and is never considered even by a recruit as a real officer. So we let him talk. What can they do to us, anyway---- "Who threw the bottle?" he asks. Before I can think whether I should report myself, someone says: "I did." A man with a bristling beard sits up. Everyone is excited; why should he report himsel... | overworked day after day. And added to that is the everlasting praying. "Should we smash a bottle?" asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence. "She wouldn't hear that any more than the bell." At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
asks Kropp. | No speaker | do you mean, Dead Room?"<|quote|>asks Kropp.</|quote|>"Well, Dying Room----" "What is | in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?"<|quote|>asks Kropp.</|quote|>"Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?" "A little room | garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?"<|quote|>asks Kropp.</|quote|>"Well, Dying Room----" "Wh... | whole wing even when she can only be seen in the distance. And there are others like her. We would go through fire for her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain ... | almost healthy. Now a sister comes oftener. * * Sometimes there are red-cross voluntary aid sisters. They are pleasant, but often rather unskilled. They frequently give us pain when re-making our beds, and then are so frightened that they hurt us still more. The nuns are more reliable. They know how they must take hold... | an appearance. In our wing there is only one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch is by the do... | even by a recruit as a real officer. So we let him talk. What can they do to us, anyway---- "Who threw the bottle?" he asks. Before I can think whether I should report myself, someone says: "I did." A man with a bristling beard sits up. Everyone is excited; why should he report himself? "You?" "Yes. I was annoyed be... | someone say I was wanted?" "We did ring. And none of us here can walk." He has been bleeding badly and she binds him up. In the morning we look at his face, it has become sharp and yellow, whereas the evening before he looked almost healthy. Now a sister comes oftener. * * Sometimes there are red-cross voluntary a... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Well, Dying Room----" | Josef Hamacher | mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp.<|quote|>"Well, Dying Room----"</|quote|>"What is that, then?" "A | dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp.<|quote|>"Well, Dying Room----"</|quote|>"What is that, then?" "A little room at the corner | gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp.<|quote|>"Well, Dying Room----"</|quote|>"What is that, then?"... | even when she can only be seen in the distance. And there are others like her. We would go through fire for her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strengt... | Now a sister comes oftener. * * Sometimes there are red-cross voluntary aid sisters. They are pleasant, but often rather unskilled. They frequently give us pain when re-making our beds, and then are so frightened that they hurt us still more. The nuns are more reliable. They know how they must take hold of us, but we w... | In our wing there is only one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of ... | a recruit as a real officer. So we let him talk. What can they do to us, anyway---- "Who threw the bottle?" he asks. Before I can think whether I should report myself, someone says: "I did." A man with a bristling beard sits up. Everyone is excited; why should he report himself? "You?" "Yes. I was annoyed because we... | And added to that is the everlasting praying. "Should we smash a bottle?" asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence. "She wouldn't hear that any more than the bell." At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"What is that, then?" | Kropp | asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----"<|quote|>"What is that, then?"</|quote|>"A little room at the | do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----"<|quote|>"What is that, then?"</|quote|>"A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever | the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----"<|quote|>"What is that, then?"</|quote|>"A little r... | can only be seen in the distance. And there are others like her. We would go through fire for her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he ... | comes oftener. * * Sometimes there are red-cross voluntary aid sisters. They are pleasant, but often rather unskilled. They frequently give us pain when re-making our beds, and then are so frightened that they hurt us still more. The nuns are more reliable. They know how they must take hold of us, but we would be more ... | there is only one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand... | a real officer. So we let him talk. What can they do to us, anyway---- "Who threw the bottle?" he asks. Before I can think whether I should report myself, someone says: "I did." A man with a bristling beard sits up. Everyone is excited; why should he report himself? "You?" "Yes. I was annoyed because we were waked u... | have a good deal of pain. One wants his leg placed so, another so, a third wants water, a fourth wants her to shake up his pillow;--in the end the buxom old body grumbled bad temperedly and slammed the doors. Now no doubt she thinks it is something of the same sort and so she is not coming. We wait. Then Franz says: "R... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room." | Josef Hamacher | Room----" "What is that, then?"<|quote|>"A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room."</|quote|>"But what do they do | Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?"<|quote|>"A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room."</|quote|>"But what do they do that for?" "They don't have | does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?"<|quote|>"A little room at the corner of the building. ... | in the distance. And there are others like her. We would go through fire for her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and... | Sometimes there are red-cross voluntary aid sisters. They are pleasant, but often rather unskilled. They frequently give us pain when re-making our beds, and then are so frightened that they hurt us still more. The nuns are more reliable. They know how they must take hold of us, but we would be more pleased if they wer... | night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand up. I hold my th... | we let him talk. What can they do to us, anyway---- "Who threw the bottle?" he asks. Before I can think whether I should report myself, someone says: "I did." A man with a bristling beard sits up. Everyone is excited; why should he report himself? "You?" "Yes. I was annoyed because we were waked up unnecessarily and... | not put in an appearance. In our wing there is only one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch i... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"But what do they do that for?" | Kropp | generally called the Dying Room."<|quote|>"But what do they do that for?"</|quote|>"They don't have so much | beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room."<|quote|>"But what do they do that for?"</|quote|>"They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It | dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?" "A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room."<|quote|>"But what do they do that for?"</|quote|>"Th... | the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, D... | more. The nuns are more reliable. They know how they must take hold of us, but we would be more pleased if they were somewhat more cheerful. A few of them have real spirit, they are superb. There is no one who would not do anything for Sister Libertine, this marvellous sister, who spreads good cheer through the whole w... | is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand up. I hold my thumb against the button of the bell till it becomes numb. Perhaps the sister has fallen asleep. They certainly have a great deal to do and are all overworked day after day. And added t... | a bristling beard sits up. Everyone is excited; why should he report himself? "You?" "Yes. I was annoyed because we were waked up unnecessarily and lost my senses so that I did not know what I was doing." He talks like a book. "What is your name?" "Reinforcement-Reservist Josef Hamacher." The inspector departs. We ar... | are so frightened that they hurt us still more. The nuns are more reliable. They know how they must take hold of us, but we would be more pleased if they were somewhat more cheerful. A few of them have real spirit, they are superb. There is no one who would not do anything for Sister Libertine, this marvellous sister, ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too, if he is by himself." | Josef Hamacher | do they do that for?"<|quote|>"They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too, if he is by himsel... | the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?"<|quote|>"They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him bett... | Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?" "A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?"<|quote|>"They don't have so much work to do afterwards. ... | a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, the... | know how they must take hold of us, but we would be more pleased if they were somewhat more cheerful. A few of them have real spirit, they are superb. There is no one who would not do anything for Sister Libertine, this marvellous sister, who spreads good cheer through the whole wing even when she can only be seen in t... | That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand up. I hold my thumb against the button of the bell till it becomes numb. Perhaps the sister has fallen asleep. They certainly have a great deal to do and are all overworked day after day. And added to that is the everlasting praying. "S... | excited; why should he report himself? "You?" "Yes. I was annoyed because we were waked up unnecessarily and lost my senses so that I did not know what I was doing." He talks like a book. "What is your name?" "Reinforcement-Reservist Josef Hamacher." The inspector departs. We are all curious. "But why did you say you... | voluntary aid sisters. They are pleasant, but often rather unskilled. They frequently give us pain when re-making our beds, and then are so frightened that they hurt us still more. The nuns are more reliable. They know how they must take hold of us, but we would be more pleased if they were somewhat more cheerful. A fe... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"But what about him?" | Kropp | if he is by himself."<|quote|>"But what about him?"</|quote|>Josef shrugs his shoulders. "Usually | look after him better, too, if he is by himself."<|quote|>"But what about him?"</|quote|>Josef shrugs his shoulders. "Usually he doesn't take much notice | afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too, if he is by himself."<|quote|>"But what about him?"</|quote|>Josef shrugs his shoulders... | that, then?" "A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?" "They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside t... | be seen in the distance. And there are others like her. We would go through fire for her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken ... | the everlasting praying. "Should we smash a bottle?" asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence. "She wouldn't hear that any more than the bell." At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I was wanted?" "We did ... | It wasn't you at all!" He grins. "That doesn't matter. I have a shooting licence." Then, of course, we all understand. Whoever has a shooting licence can do just whatever he pleases. "Yes," he explains, "I got a crack in the head and they presented me with a certificate to say that I was periodically not responsible ... | appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I was wanted?" "We did ring. And none of us here can walk." He has been bleeding badly and she binds him up. In the morning we look at his face, it has become sharp and yellow, whereas the evening before he ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Josef shrugs his shoulders. | No speaker | himself." "But what about him?"<|quote|>Josef shrugs his shoulders.</|quote|>"Usually he doesn't take much | too, if he is by himself." "But what about him?"<|quote|>Josef shrugs his shoulders.</|quote|>"Usually he doesn't take much notice any more." "Does everybody | convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too, if he is by himself." "But what about him?"<|quote|>Josef shrugs his shoulders.</|quote|>"Usually he doesn't t... | room at the corner of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?" "They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. ... | distance. And there are others like her. We would go through fire for her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does n... | we smash a bottle?" asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence. "She wouldn't hear that any more than the bell." At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I was wanted?" "We did ring. And none of us here can wa... | all!" He grins. "That doesn't matter. I have a shooting licence." Then, of course, we all understand. Whoever has a shooting licence can do just whatever he pleases. "Yes," he explains, "I got a crack in the head and they presented me with a certificate to say that I was periodically not responsible for my actions. ... | appearance. In our wing there is only one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Usually he doesn't take much notice any more." | Josef Hamacher | him?" Josef shrugs his shoulders.<|quote|>"Usually he doesn't take much notice any more."</|quote|>"Does everybody know about it | by himself." "But what about him?" Josef shrugs his shoulders.<|quote|>"Usually he doesn't take much notice any more."</|quote|>"Does everybody know about it then?" "Anyone who has been | lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too, if he is by himself." "But what about him?" Josef shrugs his shoulders.<|quote|>"Usually he doesn't take much notice any more."</|quote|>"... | of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?" "They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they d... | others like her. We would go through fire for her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hama... | asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence. "She wouldn't hear that any more than the bell." At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I was wanted?" "We did ring. And none of us here can walk." He has been ble... | doesn't matter. I have a shooting licence." Then, of course, we all understand. Whoever has a shooting licence can do just whatever he pleases. "Yes," he explains, "I got a crack in the head and they presented me with a certificate to say that I was periodically not responsible for my actions. Ever since then I've ha... | beds, and then are so frightened that they hurt us still more. The nuns are more reliable. They know how they must take hold of us, but we would be more pleased if they were somewhat more cheerful. A few of them have real spirit, they are superb. There is no one who would not do anything for Sister Libertine, this marv... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Does everybody know about it then?" | Kropp | take much notice any more."<|quote|>"Does everybody know about it then?"</|quote|>"Anyone who has been here | his shoulders. "Usually he doesn't take much notice any more."<|quote|>"Does everybody know about it then?"</|quote|>"Anyone who has been here long enough knows, of course." | Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too, if he is by himself." "But what about him?" Josef shrugs his shoulders. "Usually he doesn't take much notice any more."<|quote|>"Does everybody know about it then?"</|quote|>"Anyone ... | the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?" "They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that n... | for her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see hi... | wouldn't hear that any more than the bell." At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I was wanted?" "We did ring. And none of us here can walk." He has been bleeding badly and she binds him up. In the morning ... | of course, we all understand. Whoever has a shooting licence can do just whatever he pleases. "Yes," he explains, "I got a crack in the head and they presented me with a certificate to say that I was periodically not responsible for my actions. Ever since then I've had a grand time. No one dares to annoy me. And nob... | says: "Ring again." I do so. Still she does not put in an appearance. In our wing there is only one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a lig... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Anyone who has been here long enough knows, of course." | Josef Hamacher | everybody know about it then?"<|quote|>"Anyone who has been here long enough knows, of course."</|quote|>* * In the afternoon | much notice any more." "Does everybody know about it then?"<|quote|>"Anyone who has been here long enough knows, of course."</|quote|>* * In the afternoon Franz Wachter's bed has a | the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too, if he is by himself." "But what about him?" Josef shrugs his shoulders. "Usually he doesn't take much notice any more." "Does everybody know about it then?"<|quote|>"Anyone who has been here long enough knows, ... | There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?" "They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sy... | complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him i... | the bell." At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I was wanted?" "We did ring. And none of us here can walk." He has been bleeding badly and she binds him up. In the morning we look at his face, it has becom... | has a shooting licence can do just whatever he pleases. "Yes," he explains, "I got a crack in the head and they presented me with a certificate to say that I was periodically not responsible for my actions. Ever since then I've had a grand time. No one dares to annoy me. And nobody does anything to me." "I reported ... | she can only be seen in the distance. And there are others like her. We would go through fire for her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
* * In the afternoon Franz Wachter's bed has a fresh occupant. A couple of days later they take the new man away, too. Josef makes a significant gesture. We see many come and go. Often relatives sit by the beds and weep or talk softly and awkwardly. One old woman will not go away, but she cannot stay there the wh... | No speaker | long enough knows, of course."<|quote|>* * In the afternoon Franz Wachter's bed has a fresh occupant. A couple of days later they take the new man away, too. Josef makes a significant gesture. We see many come and go. Often relatives sit by the beds and weep or talk softly and awkwardly. One old woman will not go... | "Anyone who has been here long enough knows, of course."<|quote|>* * In the afternoon Franz Wachter's bed has a fresh occupant. A couple of days later they take the new man away, too. Josef makes a significant gesture. We see many come and go. Often relatives sit by the beds and weep or talk softly and awkwardly. ... | the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too, if he is by himself." "But what about him?" Josef shrugs his shoulders. "Usually he doesn't take much notice any more." "Does everybody know about it then?" "Anyone who has been here long enough knows, of course."<|quote|>* * In the afternoon Franz Wa... | the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?" "They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too,... | a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks ... | appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I was wanted?" "We did ring. And none of us here can walk." He has been bleeding badly and she binds him up. In the morning we look at his face, it has become sharp and yellow, whereas the evening before he ... | "Yes," he explains, "I got a crack in the head and they presented me with a certificate to say that I was periodically not responsible for my actions. Ever since then I've had a grand time. No one dares to annoy me. And nobody does anything to me." "I reported myself because the shot amused me. If they open the doo... | than the bell." At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I was wanted?" "We did ring. And none of us here can walk." He has been bleeding badly and she binds him up. In the morning we look at his face, it has ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
he asks. | No speaker | beside his bed. "Where to?"<|quote|>he asks.</|quote|>"To the bandaging ward." He | day the flat trolley stands beside his bed. "Where to?"<|quote|>he asks.</|quote|>"To the bandaging ward." He is lifted out. But the | someone else is in it already. She has to go to the mortuary. The apples that she has brought with her she gives to us. And then little Peter begins to get worse. His temperature chart looks bad, and one day the flat trolley stands beside his bed. "Where to?"<|quote|>he asks.</|quote|>"To the bandaging ward." He is lif... | come and go. Often relatives sit by the beds and weep or talk softly and awkwardly. One old woman will not go away, but she cannot stay there the whole night through. Another morning she comes very early, but not early enough; for as she goes up to the bed, someone else is in it already. She has to go to the mortuary. ... | the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too, if he is by himself." "But what about him?" Josef shrugs his shoulders. "Usually he doesn't take much notice any more." "Does everybody know about it then?" "Anyone who... | of them have real spirit, they are superb. There is no one who would not do anything for Sister Libertine, this marvellous sister, who spreads good cheer through the whole wing even when she can only be seen in the distance. And there are others like her. We would go through fire for her. A man cannot really complain, ... | didn't look too bad at first. But the third night he calls out to us, telling us to ring, he thinks he has a hæmorrhage. I ring loudly. The night sister does not come. We have been making rather heavy demands on her during the night, because we have all been freshly bandaged, and so have a good deal of pain. One wants ... | away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?" "A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. The... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
He is lifted out. But the sister makes the mistake of removing his tunic from the hook and putting it on the trolley too, so that she should not have to make two journeys. Peter understands immediately and tries to roll off the trolley. | No speaker | asks. "To the bandaging ward."<|quote|>He is lifted out. But the sister makes the mistake of removing his tunic from the hook and putting it on the trolley too, so that she should not have to make two journeys. Peter understands immediately and tries to roll off the trolley.</|quote|>"I'm stopping here!" They push | his bed. "Where to?" he asks. "To the bandaging ward."<|quote|>He is lifted out. But the sister makes the mistake of removing his tunic from the hook and putting it on the trolley too, so that she should not have to make two journeys. Peter understands immediately and tries to roll off the trolley.</|quote|>"I'm stop... | She has to go to the mortuary. The apples that she has brought with her she gives to us. And then little Peter begins to get worse. His temperature chart looks bad, and one day the flat trolley stands beside his bed. "Where to?" he asks. "To the bandaging ward."<|quote|>He is lifted out. But the sister makes the mista... | by the beds and weep or talk softly and awkwardly. One old woman will not go away, but she cannot stay there the whole night through. Another morning she comes very early, but not early enough; for as she goes up to the bed, someone else is in it already. She has to go to the mortuary. The apples that she has brought w... | it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too, if he is by himself." "But what about him?" Josef shrugs his shoulders. "Usually he doesn't take much notice any more." "Does everybody know about it then?" "Anyone who has been here long enough knows, o... | are superb. There is no one who would not do anything for Sister Libertine, this marvellous sister, who spreads good cheer through the whole wing even when she can only be seen in the distance. And there are others like her. We would go through fire for her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns ... | But the third night he calls out to us, telling us to ring, he thinks he has a hæmorrhage. I ring loudly. The night sister does not come. We have been making rather heavy demands on her during the night, because we have all been freshly bandaged, and so have a good deal of pain. One wants his leg placed so, another so,... | to kick the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?" "They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, s... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
They push him back. He cries out feebly with his shattered lung: | No speaker | the trolley. "I'm stopping here!"<|quote|>They push him back. He cries out feebly with his shattered lung:</|quote|>"I won't go to the | and tries to roll off the trolley. "I'm stopping here!"<|quote|>They push him back. He cries out feebly with his shattered lung:</|quote|>"I won't go to the Dying Room." "But we are | the bandaging ward." He is lifted out. But the sister makes the mistake of removing his tunic from the hook and putting it on the trolley too, so that she should not have to make two journeys. Peter understands immediately and tries to roll off the trolley. "I'm stopping here!"<|quote|>They push him back. He cries o... | in it already. She has to go to the mortuary. The apples that she has brought with her she gives to us. And then little Peter begins to get worse. His temperature chart looks bad, and one day the flat trolley stands beside his bed. "Where to?" he asks. "To the bandaging ward." He is lifted out. But the sister makes th... | everybody know about it then?" "Anyone who has been here long enough knows, of course." * * In the afternoon Franz Wachter's bed has a fresh occupant. A couple of days later they take the new man away, too. Josef makes a significant gesture. We see many come and go. Often relatives sit by the beds and weep or talk... | her. A man cannot really complain, here he is treated by the nuns exactly like a civilian. On the other hand, just to think of a garrison hospital gives a man the creeps. Franz Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him ag... | and so have a good deal of pain. One wants his leg placed so, another so, a third wants water, a fourth wants her to shake up his pillow;--in the end the buxom old body grumbled bad temperedly and slammed the doors. Now no doubt she thinks it is something of the same sort and so she is not coming. We wait. Then Franz s... | Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?" "A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?" "They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is m... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
He can speak no more. Hoarse, agitated, he whispers: | No speaker | you want my tunic for?"<|quote|>He can speak no more. Hoarse, agitated, he whispers:</|quote|>"Stopping here!" They do not | bandaging ward." "Then what do you want my tunic for?"<|quote|>He can speak no more. Hoarse, agitated, he whispers:</|quote|>"Stopping here!" They do not answer but wheel him out. | two journeys. Peter understands immediately and tries to roll off the trolley. "I'm stopping here!" They push him back. He cries out feebly with his shattered lung: "I won't go to the Dying Room." "But we are going to the bandaging ward." "Then what do you want my tunic for?"<|quote|>He can speak no more. Hoarse, agi... | and one day the flat trolley stands beside his bed. "Where to?" he asks. "To the bandaging ward." He is lifted out. But the sister makes the mistake of removing his tunic from the hook and putting it on the trolley too, so that she should not have to make two journeys. Peter understands immediately and tries to roll ... | new man away, too. Josef makes a significant gesture. We see many come and go. Often relatives sit by the beds and weep or talk softly and awkwardly. One old woman will not go away, but she cannot stay there the whole night through. Another morning she comes very early, but not early enough; for as she goes up to the b... | does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?" "A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever... | grumbled bad temperedly and slammed the doors. Now no doubt she thinks it is something of the same sort and so she is not coming. We wait. Then Franz says: "Ring again." I do so. Still she does not put in an appearance. In our wing there is only one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other ro... | too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too, if he is by himself." "But what about him?" Josef shrugs his shoulders. "Usually he doesn't take much notice any more." "D... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
They do not answer but wheel him out. At the door he tries to raise himself up. His black curly head sways, his eyes are full of tears. | No speaker | agitated, he whispers: "Stopping here!"<|quote|>They do not answer but wheel him out. At the door he tries to raise himself up. His black curly head sways, his eyes are full of tears.</|quote|>"I will come back again! | can speak no more. Hoarse, agitated, he whispers: "Stopping here!"<|quote|>They do not answer but wheel him out. At the door he tries to raise himself up. His black curly head sways, his eyes are full of tears.</|quote|>"I will come back again! I will come back again!" | trolley. "I'm stopping here!" They push him back. He cries out feebly with his shattered lung: "I won't go to the Dying Room." "But we are going to the bandaging ward." "Then what do you want my tunic for?" He can speak no more. Hoarse, agitated, he whispers: "Stopping here!"<|quote|>They do not answer but wheel him ... | to?" he asks. "To the bandaging ward." He is lifted out. But the sister makes the mistake of removing his tunic from the hook and putting it on the trolley too, so that she should not have to make two journeys. Peter understands immediately and tries to roll off the trolley. "I'm stopping here!" They push him back. ... | many come and go. Often relatives sit by the beds and weep or talk softly and awkwardly. One old woman will not go away, but she cannot stay there the whole night through. Another morning she comes very early, but not early enough; for as she goes up to the bed, someone else is in it already. She has to go to the mortu... | and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?" "A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. There ar... | thinks it is something of the same sort and so she is not coming. We wait. Then Franz says: "Ring again." I do so. Still she does not put in an appearance. In our wing there is only one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Other... | oftener. * * Sometimes there are red-cross voluntary aid sisters. They are pleasant, but often rather unskilled. They frequently give us pain when re-making our beds, and then are so frightened that they hurt us still more. The nuns are more reliable. They know how they must take hold of us, but we would be more please... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
he cries. The door shuts. We are all excited; but we say nothing. At last Josef says: | No speaker | I will come back again!"<|quote|>he cries. The door shuts. We are all excited; but we say nothing. At last Josef says:</|quote|>"Many a man has said | "I will come back again! I will come back again!"<|quote|>he cries. The door shuts. We are all excited; but we say nothing. At last Josef says:</|quote|>"Many a man has said that. Once a man is | for?" He can speak no more. Hoarse, agitated, he whispers: "Stopping here!" They do not answer but wheel him out. At the door he tries to raise himself up. His black curly head sways, his eyes are full of tears. "I will come back again! I will come back again!"<|quote|>he cries. The door shuts. We are all excited... | make two journeys. Peter understands immediately and tries to roll off the trolley. "I'm stopping here!" They push him back. He cries out feebly with his shattered lung: "I won't go to the Dying Room." "But we are going to the bandaging ward." "Then what do you want my tunic for?" He can speak no more. Hoarse, agitat... | early, but not early enough; for as she goes up to the bed, someone else is in it already. She has to go to the mortuary. The apples that she has brought with her she gives to us. And then little Peter begins to get worse. His temperature chart looks bad, and one day the flat trolley stands beside his bed. "Where to?" ... | then?" "A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?" "They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lif... | one night sister, perhaps she has something to do in one of the other rooms. "Franz, are you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand up. I hold m... | stay there the whole night through. Another morning she comes very early, but not early enough; for as she goes up to the bed, someone else is in it already. She has to go to the mortuary. The apples that she has brought with her she gives to us. And then little Peter begins to get worse. His temperature chart looks ba... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Many a man has said that. Once a man is in there, he never comes through." | Josef Hamacher | nothing. At last Josef says:<|quote|>"Many a man has said that. Once a man is in there, he never comes through."</|quote|>* * I am operated | all excited; but we say nothing. At last Josef says:<|quote|>"Many a man has said that. Once a man is in there, he never comes through."</|quote|>* * I am operated on and vomit for two | wheel him out. At the door he tries to raise himself up. His black curly head sways, his eyes are full of tears. "I will come back again! I will come back again!" he cries. The door shuts. We are all excited; but we say nothing. At last Josef says:<|quote|>"Many a man has said that. Once a man is in there, he neve... | push him back. He cries out feebly with his shattered lung: "I won't go to the Dying Room." "But we are going to the bandaging ward." "Then what do you want my tunic for?" He can speak no more. Hoarse, agitated, he whispers: "Stopping here!" They do not answer but wheel him out. At the door he tries to raise himself ... | it already. She has to go to the mortuary. The apples that she has brought with her she gives to us. And then little Peter begins to get worse. His temperature chart looks bad, and one day the flat trolley stands beside his bed. "Where to?" he asks. "To the bandaging ward." He is lifted out. But the sister makes the m... | is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?" "They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in th... | you quite sure you are bleeding?" I ask. "Otherwise we shall be getting cursed again." "The bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand up. I hold my thumb against the button of the bell till it becomes numb. Perhaps the sister has fall... | Wachter does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?" "A little room at the corner of the building. ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
* * I am operated on and vomit for two days. My bones will not grow together, so the surgeon's secretary says. Another fellow's have grown crooked; his are broken again. It is disgusting. Among our new arrivals there are two young soldiers with flat feet. The chief surgeon discovers them on his rounds, and is over... | No speaker | there, he never comes through."<|quote|>* * I am operated on and vomit for two days. My bones will not grow together, so the surgeon's secretary says. Another fellow's have grown crooked; his are broken again. It is disgusting. Among our new arrivals there are two young soldiers with flat feet. The chief surgeon d... | Once a man is in there, he never comes through."<|quote|>* * I am operated on and vomit for two days. My bones will not grow together, so the surgeon's secretary says. Another fellow's have grown crooked; his are broken again. It is disgusting. Among our new arrivals there are two young soldiers with flat feet. Th... | sways, his eyes are full of tears. "I will come back again! I will come back again!" he cries. The door shuts. We are all excited; but we say nothing. At last Josef says: "Many a man has said that. Once a man is in there, he never comes through."<|quote|>* * I am operated on and vomit for two days. My bones will... | Dying Room." "But we are going to the bandaging ward." "Then what do you want my tunic for?" He can speak no more. Hoarse, agitated, he whispers: "Stopping here!" They do not answer but wheel him out. At the door he tries to raise himself up. His black curly head sways, his eyes are full of tears. "I will come back ... | her she gives to us. And then little Peter begins to get worse. His temperature chart looks bad, and one day the flat trolley stands beside his bed. "Where to?" he asks. "To the bandaging ward." He is lifted out. But the sister makes the mistake of removing his tunic from the hook and putting it on the trolley too, so... | Room." "But what do they do that for?" "They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look after him better, too, if he is ... | bandage is wet. Can't anybody make a light?" That cannot be done either. The switch is by the door and none of us can stand up. I hold my thumb against the button of the bell till it becomes numb. Perhaps the sister has fallen asleep. They certainly have a great deal to do and are all overworked day after day. And... | too. Josef makes a significant gesture. We see many come and go. Often relatives sit by the beds and weep or talk softly and awkwardly. One old woman will not go away, but she cannot stay there the whole night through. Another morning she comes very early, but not early enough; for as she goes up to the bed, someone el... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
he tells them, | No speaker | "We'll soon put that right,"<|quote|>he tells them,</|quote|>"we will just do a | his rounds, and is overjoyed. "We'll soon put that right,"<|quote|>he tells them,</|quote|>"we will just do a small operation, and then you | bones will not grow together, so the surgeon's secretary says. Another fellow's have grown crooked; his are broken again. It is disgusting. Among our new arrivals there are two young soldiers with flat feet. The chief surgeon discovers them on his rounds, and is overjoyed. "We'll soon put that right,"<|quote|>he tells ... | I will come back again!" he cries. The door shuts. We are all excited; but we say nothing. At last Josef says: "Many a man has said that. Once a man is in there, he never comes through." * * I am operated on and vomit for two days. My bones will not grow together, so the surgeon's secretary says. Another fellow'... | she should not have to make two journeys. Peter understands immediately and tries to roll off the trolley. "I'm stopping here!" They push him back. He cries out feebly with his shattered lung: "I won't go to the Dying Room." "But we are going to the bandaging ward." "Then what do you want my tunic for?" He can speak n... | he is by himself." "But what about him?" Josef shrugs his shoulders. "Usually he doesn't take much notice any more." "Does everybody know about it then?" "Anyone who has been here long enough knows, of course." * * In the afternoon Franz Wachter's bed has a fresh occupant. A couple of days later they take the new man... | added to that is the everlasting praying. "Should we smash a bottle?" asks Josef Hamacher of the shooting licence. "She wouldn't hear that any more than the bell." At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I was ... | everybody know about it then?" "Anyone who has been here long enough knows, of course." * * In the afternoon Franz Wachter's bed has a fresh occupant. A couple of days later they take the new man away, too. Josef makes a significant gesture. We see many come and go. Often relatives sit by the beds and weep or talk... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
As soon as he is gone, Josef, who knows everything, warns them: | No speaker | feet. Enter them down, sister."<|quote|>As soon as he is gone, Josef, who knows everything, warns them:</|quote|>"Don't you let him operate | you will have perfectly sound feet. Enter them down, sister."<|quote|>As soon as he is gone, Josef, who knows everything, warns them:</|quote|>"Don't you let him operate on you! That is a | Among our new arrivals there are two young soldiers with flat feet. The chief surgeon discovers them on his rounds, and is overjoyed. "We'll soon put that right," he tells them, "we will just do a small operation, and then you will have perfectly sound feet. Enter them down, sister."<|quote|>As soon as he is gone, Jos... | "Many a man has said that. Once a man is in there, he never comes through." * * I am operated on and vomit for two days. My bones will not grow together, so the surgeon's secretary says. Another fellow's have grown crooked; his are broken again. It is disgusting. Among our new arrivals there are two young soldier... | push him back. He cries out feebly with his shattered lung: "I won't go to the Dying Room." "But we are going to the bandaging ward." "Then what do you want my tunic for?" He can speak no more. Hoarse, agitated, he whispers: "Stopping here!" They do not answer but wheel him out. At the door he tries to raise himself ... | know about it then?" "Anyone who has been here long enough knows, of course." * * In the afternoon Franz Wachter's bed has a fresh occupant. A couple of days later they take the new man away, too. Josef makes a significant gesture. We see many come and go. Often relatives sit by the beds and weep or talk softly an... | that any more than the bell." At last the door opens. The old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I was wanted?" "We did ring. And none of us here can walk." He has been bleeding badly and she binds him up. In the morning we look at his... | does not regain his strength. One day he is taken away and does not come back. Josef Hamacher knows all about it: "We shan't see him again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?" "A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Don't you let him operate on you! That is a special scientific stunt of the old boy's. He goes absolutely crazy whenever he can get hold of anyone to do it on. He operates on you for flat feet, and there's no mistake, you don't have them any more; you have club feet instead, and have to walk all the rest of your li... | Josef Hamacher | who knows everything, warns them:<|quote|>"Don't you let him operate on you! That is a special scientific stunt of the old boy's. He goes absolutely crazy whenever he can get hold of anyone to do it on. He operates on you for flat feet, and there's no mistake, you don't have them any more; you have club feet instead... | as he is gone, Josef, who knows everything, warns them:<|quote|>"Don't you let him operate on you! That is a special scientific stunt of the old boy's. He goes absolutely crazy whenever he can get hold of anyone to do it on. He operates on you for flat feet, and there's no mistake, you don't have them any more; you ... | The chief surgeon discovers them on his rounds, and is overjoyed. "We'll soon put that right," he tells them, "we will just do a small operation, and then you will have perfectly sound feet. Enter them down, sister." As soon as he is gone, Josef, who knows everything, warns them:<|quote|>"Don't you let him operate on ... | he never comes through." * * I am operated on and vomit for two days. My bones will not grow together, so the surgeon's secretary says. Another fellow's have grown crooked; his are broken again. It is disgusting. Among our new arrivals there are two young soldiers with flat feet. The chief surgeon discovers them o... | won't go to the Dying Room." "But we are going to the bandaging ward." "Then what do you want my tunic for?" He can speak no more. Hoarse, agitated, he whispers: "Stopping here!" They do not answer but wheel him out. At the door he tries to raise himself up. His black curly head sways, his eyes are full of tears. "I... | of course." * * In the afternoon Franz Wachter's bed has a fresh occupant. A couple of days later they take the new man away, too. Josef makes a significant gesture. We see many come and go. Often relatives sit by the beds and weep or talk softly and awkwardly. One old woman will not go away, but she cannot stay ... | old lady appears, mumbling. When she perceives Franz's trouble she begins to bustle, and says: "Why did not someone say I was wanted?" "We did ring. And none of us here can walk." He has been bleeding badly and she binds him up. In the morning we look at his face, it has become sharp and yellow, whereas the evening b... | on the trolley too, so that she should not have to make two journeys. Peter understands immediately and tries to roll off the trolley. "I'm stopping here!" They push him back. He cries out feebly with his shattered lung: "I won't go to the Dying Room." "But we are going to the bandaging ward." "Then what do you want m... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
asks one of them. | No speaker | should a man do, then?"<|quote|>asks one of them.</|quote|>"Say No. You are here | your life on sticks." "What should a man do, then?"<|quote|>asks one of them.</|quote|>"Say No. You are here to be cured of your | he can get hold of anyone to do it on. He operates on you for flat feet, and there's no mistake, you don't have them any more; you have club feet instead, and have to walk all the rest of your life on sticks." "What should a man do, then?"<|quote|>asks one of them.</|quote|>"Say No. You are here to be cured of your wou... | do a small operation, and then you will have perfectly sound feet. Enter them down, sister." As soon as he is gone, Josef, who knows everything, warns them: "Don't you let him operate on you! That is a special scientific stunt of the old boy's. He goes absolutely crazy whenever he can get hold of anyone to do it on. ... | cries. The door shuts. We are all excited; but we say nothing. At last Josef says: "Many a man has said that. Once a man is in there, he never comes through." * * I am operated on and vomit for two days. My bones will not grow together, so the surgeon's secretary says. Another fellow's have grown crooked; his are b... | but not early enough; for as she goes up to the bed, someone else is in it already. She has to go to the mortuary. The apples that she has brought with her she gives to us. And then little Peter begins to get worse. His temperature chart looks bad, and one day the flat trolley stands beside his bed. "Where to?" he asks... | Sometimes there are red-cross voluntary aid sisters. They are pleasant, but often rather unskilled. They frequently give us pain when re-making our beds, and then are so frightened that they hurt us still more. The nuns are more reliable. They know how they must take hold of us, but we would be more pleased if they wer... | They push him back. He cries out feebly with his shattered lung: "I won't go to the Dying Room." "But we are going to the bandaging ward." "Then what do you want my tunic for?" He can speak no more. Hoarse, agitated, he whispers: "Stopping here!" They do not answer but wheel him out. At the door he tries to raise hi... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Say No. You are here to be cured of your wound, not your flat feet. Did you have any trouble with them in the field? No, well, there you are! At present you can still walk, but if once the old boy gets you under the knife you'll be cripples. What he wants is little dogs to experiment with, so the war is a glorious... | Josef Hamacher | then?" asks one of them.<|quote|>"Say No. You are here to be cured of your wound, not your flat feet. Did you have any trouble with them in the field? No, well, there you are! At present you can still walk, but if once the old boy gets you under the knife you'll be cripples. What he wants is little dogs to experime... | "What should a man do, then?" asks one of them.<|quote|>"Say No. You are here to be cured of your wound, not your flat feet. Did you have any trouble with them in the field? No, well, there you are! At present you can still walk, but if once the old boy gets you under the knife you'll be cripples. What he wants is ... | of anyone to do it on. He operates on you for flat feet, and there's no mistake, you don't have them any more; you have club feet instead, and have to walk all the rest of your life on sticks." "What should a man do, then?" asks one of them.<|quote|>"Say No. You are here to be cured of your wound, not your flat feet. ... | and then you will have perfectly sound feet. Enter them down, sister." As soon as he is gone, Josef, who knows everything, warns them: "Don't you let him operate on you! That is a special scientific stunt of the old boy's. He goes absolutely crazy whenever he can get hold of anyone to do it on. He operates on you fo... | We are all excited; but we say nothing. At last Josef says: "Many a man has said that. Once a man is in there, he never comes through." * * I am operated on and vomit for two days. My bones will not grow together, so the surgeon's secretary says. Another fellow's have grown crooked; his are broken again. It is dis... | for as she goes up to the bed, someone else is in it already. She has to go to the mortuary. The apples that she has brought with her she gives to us. And then little Peter begins to get worse. His temperature chart looks bad, and one day the flat trolley stands beside his bed. "Where to?" he asks. "To the bandaging wa... | voluntary aid sisters. They are pleasant, but often rather unskilled. They frequently give us pain when re-making our beds, and then are so frightened that they hurt us still more. The nuns are more reliable. They know how they must take hold of us, but we would be more pleased if they were somewhat more cheerful. A fe... | We see many come and go. Often relatives sit by the beds and weep or talk softly and awkwardly. One old woman will not go away, but she cannot stay there the whole night through. Another morning she comes very early, but not early enough; for as she goes up to the bed, someone else is in it already. She has to go to th... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
says one of the two unfortunates, | No speaker | you say No." "Ach, man,"<|quote|>says one of the two unfortunates,</|quote|>"better your feet than your | dare to do it if you say No." "Ach, man,"<|quote|>says one of the two unfortunates,</|quote|>"better your feet than your brain-box. There's no telling what | before, almost all of them worse, and most only with plaster legs. Every six months he catches them again and breaks their bones afresh, and every time is going to be the successful one. You take my word, he won't dare to do it if you say No." "Ach, man,"<|quote|>says one of the two unfortunates,</|quote|>"better your ... | all the surgeons. You take a look down below at the staff; there are a dozen fellows hobbling around that he has operated on. A lot of them have been here all the time since 'fourteen and 'fifteen. Not a single one of them can walk better than he could before, almost all of them worse, and most only with plaster legs. ... | more; you have club feet instead, and have to walk all the rest of your life on sticks." "What should a man do, then?" asks one of them. "Say No. You are here to be cured of your wound, not your flat feet. Did you have any trouble with them in the field? No, well, there you are! At present you can still walk, but if... | himself up. His black curly head sways, his eyes are full of tears. "I will come back again! I will come back again!" he cries. The door shuts. We are all excited; but we say nothing. At last Josef says: "Many a man has said that. Once a man is in there, he never comes through." * * I am operated on and vomit for... | again. They have put him in the dead room." "What do you mean, Dead Room?" asks Kropp. "Well, Dying Room----" "What is that, then?" "A little room at the corner of the building. Whoever is about to kick the bucket is put in there. There are two beds in it. It is generally called the Dying Room." "But what do they do... | old boy's. He goes absolutely crazy whenever he can get hold of anyone to do it on. He operates on you for flat feet, and there's no mistake, you don't have them any more; you have club feet instead, and have to walk all the rest of your life on sticks." "What should a man do, then?" asks one of them. "Say No. You are... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
The other, a young fellow like ourselves, won't have it done. One morning the old man has the two hauled up and lectures and jaws at them so long, that in the end they consent. What else could they do?--They are mere privates, and he is a big bug. They are brought back chloroformed and plastered. * * It is going b... | No speaker | club foot than be dead."<|quote|>The other, a young fellow like ourselves, won't have it done. One morning the old man has the two hauled up and lectures and jaws at them so long, that in the end they consent. What else could they do?--They are mere privates, and he is a big bug. They are brought back chloroformed a... | home. Better to have a club foot than be dead."<|quote|>The other, a young fellow like ourselves, won't have it done. One morning the old man has the two hauled up and lectures and jaws at them so long, that in the end they consent. What else could they do?--They are mere privates, and he is a big bug. They are brou... | says one of the two unfortunates, "better your feet than your brain-box. There's no telling what you'll get if you go back out there again? They can do with me just as they please, so long as I get back home. Better to have a club foot than be dead."<|quote|>The other, a young fellow like ourselves, won't have it do... | before, almost all of them worse, and most only with plaster legs. Every six months he catches them again and breaks their bones afresh, and every time is going to be the successful one. You take my word, he won't dare to do it if you say No." "Ach, man," says one of the two unfortunates, "better your feet than your br... | in the field? No, well, there you are! At present you can still walk, but if once the old boy gets you under the knife you'll be cripples. What he wants is little dogs to experiment with, so the war is a glorious time for him, as it is for all the surgeons. You take a look down below at the staff; there are a dozen fel... | in there, he never comes through." * * I am operated on and vomit for two days. My bones will not grow together, so the surgeon's secretary says. Another fellow's have grown crooked; his are broken again. It is disgusting. Among our new arrivals there are two young soldiers with flat feet. The chief surgeon discov... | It is generally called the Dying Room." "But what do they do that for?" "They don't have so much work to do afterwards. It is more convenient, too, because it lies right beside the lift to the mortuary. Perhaps also they do it for the sake of the others, so that no one in the ward dies in sympathy. And they can look... | journeys. Peter understands immediately and tries to roll off the trolley. "I'm stopping here!" They push him back. He cries out feebly with his shattered lung: "I won't go to the Dying Room." "But we are going to the bandaging ward." "Then what do you want my tunic for?" He can speak no more. Hoarse, agitated, he wh... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"What do you say now?" | Kropp | him dead. He looks round:<|quote|>"What do you say now?"</|quote|>And even Josef has to | Room. We have long supposed him dead. He looks round:<|quote|>"What do you say now?"</|quote|>And even Josef has to admit that it is the | flat trolley rolls in, and there on the stretcher, pale, thin, upright and triumphant, with his shaggy head of curls sits Peter. Sister Libertine with beaming looks pushes him over to his former bed. He is back from the Dying Room. We have long supposed him dead. He looks round:<|quote|>"What do you say now?"</|quote|>... | day goes by with pain and fear, groans and death-gurgles. Even the Death Room is no use any more, it is too small; fellows die during the night in our room. They go even faster than the sisters can cope with them. But one day the door flies open, the flat trolley rolls in, and there on the stretcher, pale, thin, uprigh... | being fed, the sister is called away, and leaves the plate with the fork on his table. He gropes for the fork, seizes it and drives it with all his force against his heart, then he snatches up a shoe and strikes with it against the handle as hard as he can. We call for help and three men are necessary to take the fork ... | your brain-box. There's no telling what you'll get if you go back out there again? They can do with me just as they please, so long as I get back home. Better to have a club foot than be dead." The other, a young fellow like ourselves, won't have it done. One morning the old man has the two hauled up and lectures and ... | full of tears. "I will come back again! I will come back again!" he cries. The door shuts. We are all excited; but we say nothing. At last Josef says: "Many a man has said that. Once a man is in there, he never comes through." * * I am operated on and vomit for two days. My bones will not grow together, so the s... | rest of your life on sticks." "What should a man do, then?" asks one of them. "Say No. You are here to be cured of your wound, not your flat feet. Did you have any trouble with them in the field? No, well, there you are! At present you can still walk, but if once the old boy gets you under the knife you'll be crippl... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
And even Josef has to admit that it is the first time he has ever known of such a thing. * * Gradually a few of us venture to stand up. And I am given crutches to hobble around on. But I do not make much use of them; I cannot bear Albert's gaze as I move about the room. His eyes always follow me with such a strang... | No speaker | "What do you say now?"<|quote|>And even Josef has to admit that it is the first time he has ever known of such a thing. * * Gradually a few of us venture to stand up. And I am given crutches to hobble around on. But I do not make much use of them; I cannot bear Albert's gaze as I move about the room. His eyes alwa... | him dead. He looks round: "What do you say now?"<|quote|>And even Josef has to admit that it is the first time he has ever known of such a thing. * * Gradually a few of us venture to stand up. And I am given crutches to hobble around on. But I do not make much use of them; I cannot bear Albert's gaze as I move abou... | there on the stretcher, pale, thin, upright and triumphant, with his shaggy head of curls sits Peter. Sister Libertine with beaming looks pushes him over to his former bed. He is back from the Dying Room. We have long supposed him dead. He looks round: "What do you say now?"<|quote|>And even Josef has to admit that it ... | and fear, groans and death-gurgles. Even the Death Room is no use any more, it is too small; fellows die during the night in our room. They go even faster than the sisters can cope with them. But one day the door flies open, the flat trolley rolls in, and there on the stretcher, pale, thin, upright and triumphant, with... | called away, and leaves the plate with the fork on his table. He gropes for the fork, seizes it and drives it with all his force against his heart, then he snatches up a shoe and strikes with it against the handle as hard as he can. We call for help and three men are necessary to take the fork away from him. The blunt ... | what you'll get if you go back out there again? They can do with me just as they please, so long as I get back home. Better to have a club foot than be dead." The other, a young fellow like ourselves, won't have it done. One morning the old man has the two hauled up and lectures and jaws at them so long, that in the e... | come back again! I will come back again!" he cries. The door shuts. We are all excited; but we say nothing. At last Josef says: "Many a man has said that. Once a man is in there, he never comes through." * * I am operated on and vomit for two days. My bones will not grow together, so the surgeon's secretary says.... | A new convoy arrives. Our room gets two blind men. One of them is a very youthful musician. The sisters never have a knife with them when they feed him; he has already snatched one from a sister. But in spite of this caution there is an incident. In the evening, while he is being fed, the sister is called away, and lea... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
says Lewandowski, and gulps dangerously with his Adam's apple, | No speaker | us men present. "Well, Marja,"<|quote|>says Lewandowski, and gulps dangerously with his Adam's apple,</|quote|>"you can come in all | that there are six of us men present. "Well, Marja,"<|quote|>says Lewandowski, and gulps dangerously with his Adam's apple,</|quote|>"you can come in all right, they won't hurt you." | a tousled little thing with anxious, quick eyes like a bird, in a sort of black, crinkly mantilla with ribbons; heaven knows where she inherited the thing. She murmurs something softly and stands shyly in the doorway. It terrifies her that there are six of us men present. "Well, Marja,"<|quote|>says Lewandowski, and gu... | knows of a little room. But what is the use, there Lewandowski lies in bed with his troubles. Life holds no more joy for him if he has to forego this affair. We console him and promise to get over the difficulty somehow or other. One afternoon his wife appears, a tousled little thing with anxious, quick eyes like a bir... | when his old woman came; for obviously seeing is all very well, but when a man gets his wife again after such a long time, if at all possible, a man wants something else besides. Lewandowski has discussed it all with us at great length; in the army there are no secrets about such things. And what's more, nobody finds a... | with a severe abdominal wound. Just in the last few weeks he has improved sufficiently to be able to hobble about doubled up. For some days past he has been in great excitement. His wife has written to him from the little home in Poland where she lives, telling him that she has saved up enough money to pay for the fare... | the intestines. Here a man realizes for the first time in how many places a man can get hit. Two fellows die of tetanus. Their skin turns pale, their limbs stiffen, at last only their eyes live--stubbornly. Many of the wounded have their shattered limbs hanging free in the air from a gallows; underneath the wound a bas... | improved sufficiently to be able to hobble about doubled up. For some days past he has been in great excitement. His wife has written to him from the little home in Poland where she lives, telling him that she has saved up enough money to pay for the fare, and is coming to see him. She is already on the way and may arr... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
She goes the round and proffers each of us her hand. Then she produces the child, which in the interval has done something in its napkin. From a large handbag embroidered with pearls she takes out a clean one and makes the child fresh and presentable. This dispels her first embarrassment, and the two begin to talk. ... | No speaker | right, they won't hurt you."<|quote|>She goes the round and proffers each of us her hand. Then she produces the child, which in the interval has done something in its napkin. From a large handbag embroidered with pearls she takes out a clean one and makes the child fresh and presentable. This dispels her first embar... | "you can come in all right, they won't hurt you."<|quote|>She goes the round and proffers each of us her hand. Then she produces the child, which in the interval has done something in its napkin. From a large handbag embroidered with pearls she takes out a clean one and makes the child fresh and presentable. This di... | ribbons; heaven knows where she inherited the thing. She murmurs something softly and stands shyly in the doorway. It terrifies her that there are six of us men present. "Well, Marja," says Lewandowski, and gulps dangerously with his Adam's apple, "you can come in all right, they won't hurt you."<|quote|>She goes the r... | holds no more joy for him if he has to forego this affair. We console him and promise to get over the difficulty somehow or other. One afternoon his wife appears, a tousled little thing with anxious, quick eyes like a bird, in a sort of black, crinkly mantilla with ribbons; heaven knows where she inherited the thing. S... | again after such a long time, if at all possible, a man wants something else besides. Lewandowski has discussed it all with us at great length; in the army there are no secrets about such things. And what's more, nobody finds anything objectionable in it. Those of us who are already able to go out have told him of a co... | hobble about doubled up. For some days past he has been in great excitement. His wife has written to him from the little home in Poland where she lives, telling him that she has saved up enough money to pay for the fare, and is coming to see him. She is already on the way and may arrive any day. Lewandowski has lost hi... | Two fellows die of tetanus. Their skin turns pale, their limbs stiffen, at last only their eyes live--stubbornly. Many of the wounded have their shattered limbs hanging free in the air from a gallows; underneath the wound a basin is placed into which the pus drips. Every two or three hours the vessel is emptied. Other ... | expect of us if a time ever comes when the war is over? Through the years our business has been killing;--it was our first calling in life. Our knowledge of life is limited to death. What will happen afterwards? And what shall come out of us? * * The oldest man in our room is Lewandowski. He is forty, and has already l... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
The two speak together in an undertone. The woman turns a little red and looks embarrassed. We grin good-naturedly and make pooh-poohing gestures, what does it matter! The devil take all the conventions, they were made for other times; here lies the carpenter Johann Lewandowski, a soldier shot to a cripple, and ther... | No speaker | your chance, Johann, set to."<|quote|>The two speak together in an undertone. The woman turns a little red and looks embarrassed. We grin good-naturedly and make pooh-poohing gestures, what does it matter! The devil take all the conventions, they were made for other times; here lies the carpenter Johann Lewandowski,... | soul to be seen. Now's your chance, Johann, set to."<|quote|>The two speak together in an undertone. The woman turns a little red and looks embarrassed. We grin good-naturedly and make pooh-poohing gestures, what does it matter! The devil take all the conventions, they were made for other times; here lies the carpen... | goggle eyes. The time is favourable, the doctor's visit is over, at the most there couldn't be more than one sister left in the ward. So one of us goes out to prospect. He comes back and nods. "Not a soul to be seen. Now's your chance, Johann, set to."<|quote|>The two speak together in an undertone. The woman turns a... | napkin. From a large handbag embroidered with pearls she takes out a clean one and makes the child fresh and presentable. This dispels her first embarrassment, and the two begin to talk. Lewandowski is very fidgety, every now and then he squints across at us most unhappily with his round goggle eyes. The time is favour... | other. One afternoon his wife appears, a tousled little thing with anxious, quick eyes like a bird, in a sort of black, crinkly mantilla with ribbons; heaven knows where she inherited the thing. She murmurs something softly and stands shyly in the doorway. It terrifies her that there are six of us men present. "Well, M... | is sure to happen, happens: Lewandowski develops a fever, and has to go back to bed. He has not seen his wife for two years. In the meantime she has given birth to a child, whom she is bringing with her. But something else occupies Lewandowski's thoughts. He had hoped to get permission to go out when his old woman came... | there are hundreds of thousands in Germany, hundreds of thousands in France, hundreds of thousands in Russia. How senseless is everything that can ever be written, done, or thought, when such things are possible. It must all be lies and of no account when the culture of a thousand years could not prevent this stream of... | army there are no secrets about such things. And what's more, nobody finds anything objectionable in it. Those of us who are already able to go out have told him of a couple of very good spots in the town, parks and squares, where he would not be disturbed; one of us even knows of a little room. But what is the use, th... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Don't do anything silly, Detering." | Paul | and I said to him:<|quote|>"Don't do anything silly, Detering."</|quote|>"Ach, why--it's merely that I | made out it was nothing, and I said to him:<|quote|>"Don't do anything silly, Detering."</|quote|>"Ach, why--it's merely that I can't sleep----" "What did you | he was going to a wedding. He made no answer, but laid them on his bed. During the night I heard him making a noise, he seemed to be packing. I sensed something amiss and went over to him. He made out it was nothing, and I said to him:<|quote|>"Don't do anything silly, Detering."</|quote|>"Ach, why--it's merely that I ... | cherry tree before us. It had no leaves, but was one white mass of blossom. In the evening Detering was not to be seen. Then at last he came back and had a couple of branches of cherry blossom in his hand. We made fun of him, and asked whether he was going to a wedding. He made no answer, but laid them on his bed. Duri... | our comrades asleep, and thus we wait for the morning. * * Every day and every hour every shell and every death cuts into this thin support, and the years waste it rapidly. I see how it is already gradually breaking down around me. There is the mad story of Detering. He was one of those who kept himself to himself. His... | and terrible yearning flares up. Those are the dangerous moments. They show us that the adjustment is only artificial, that it is not simple rest, but sharpest struggle for rest. In the outward form of our life we are hardly distinguishable from Bushmen; but whereas the latter can be so always, because they are so trul... | as they come. If one wants to appraise it, it is at once heroic and banal--but who wants to do that? It is this, for example, that makes Tjaden spoon down his ham-and-pea soup in such tearing haste when an enemy attack is reported, simply because he cannot be sure that in an hour's time he will still be alive. We have ... | the positive in every moment, and store it up as a reserve against the onslaught of nothingness. Thus we live a closed, hard existence of the utmost superficiality, and rarely does an incident strike out a spark. But then unexpectedly a flame of grievous and terrible yearning flares up. Those are the dangerous moments.... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Ach, why--it's merely that I can't sleep----" | Detering | "Don't do anything silly, Detering."<|quote|>"Ach, why--it's merely that I can't sleep----"</|quote|>"What did you pick the | and I said to him: "Don't do anything silly, Detering."<|quote|>"Ach, why--it's merely that I can't sleep----"</|quote|>"What did you pick the cherry branches for?" "I might | wedding. He made no answer, but laid them on his bed. During the night I heard him making a noise, he seemed to be packing. I sensed something amiss and went over to him. He made out it was nothing, and I said to him: "Don't do anything silly, Detering."<|quote|>"Ach, why--it's merely that I can't sleep----"</|quote|>"... | had no leaves, but was one white mass of blossom. In the evening Detering was not to be seen. Then at last he came back and had a couple of branches of cherry blossom in his hand. We made fun of him, and asked whether he was going to a wedding. He made no answer, but laid them on his bed. During the night I heard him m... | we wait for the morning. * * Every day and every hour every shell and every death cuts into this thin support, and the years waste it rapidly. I see how it is already gradually breaking down around me. There is the mad story of Detering. He was one of those who kept himself to himself. His misfortune was that he saw a ... | Those are the dangerous moments. They show us that the adjustment is only artificial, that it is not simple rest, but sharpest struggle for rest. In the outward form of our life we are hardly distinguishable from Bushmen; but whereas the latter can be so always, because they are so truly, and at best may develop furthe... | wants to appraise it, it is at once heroic and banal--but who wants to do that? It is this, for example, that makes Tjaden spoon down his ham-and-pea soup in such tearing haste when an enemy attack is reported, simply because he cannot be sure that in an hour's time he will still be alive. We have discussed at length, ... | strike out a spark. But then unexpectedly a flame of grievous and terrible yearning flares up. Those are the dangerous moments. They show us that the adjustment is only artificial, that it is not simple rest, but sharpest struggle for rest. In the outward form of our life we are hardly distinguishable from Bushmen; but... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"What did you pick the cherry branches for?" | Paul | merely that I can't sleep----"<|quote|>"What did you pick the cherry branches for?"</|quote|>"I might have been going | anything silly, Detering." "Ach, why--it's merely that I can't sleep----"<|quote|>"What did you pick the cherry branches for?"</|quote|>"I might have been going to get some more cherry | them on his bed. During the night I heard him making a noise, he seemed to be packing. I sensed something amiss and went over to him. He made out it was nothing, and I said to him: "Don't do anything silly, Detering." "Ach, why--it's merely that I can't sleep----"<|quote|>"What did you pick the cherry branches for?"</|... | mass of blossom. In the evening Detering was not to be seen. Then at last he came back and had a couple of branches of cherry blossom in his hand. We made fun of him, and asked whether he was going to a wedding. He made no answer, but laid them on his bed. During the night I heard him making a noise, he seemed to be pa... | Every day and every hour every shell and every death cuts into this thin support, and the years waste it rapidly. I see how it is already gradually breaking down around me. There is the mad story of Detering. He was one of those who kept himself to himself. His misfortune was that he saw a cherry tree in a garden. We w... | us that the adjustment is only artificial, that it is not simple rest, but sharpest struggle for rest. In the outward form of our life we are hardly distinguishable from Bushmen; but whereas the latter can be so always, because they are so truly, and at best may develop further by exertion of their spiritual forces, wi... | once heroic and banal--but who wants to do that? It is this, for example, that makes Tjaden spoon down his ham-and-pea soup in such tearing haste when an enemy attack is reported, simply because he cannot be sure that in an hour's time he will still be alive. We have discussed at length, whether it is right or not to d... | moments. They show us that the adjustment is only artificial, that it is not simple rest, but sharpest struggle for rest. In the outward form of our life we are hardly distinguishable from Bushmen; but whereas the latter can be so always, because they are so truly, and at best may develop further by exertion of their s... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"I might have been going to get some more cherry branches," | Detering | pick the cherry branches for?"<|quote|>"I might have been going to get some more cherry branches,"</|quote|>he replied, evasively--and after a | can't sleep----" "What did you pick the cherry branches for?"<|quote|>"I might have been going to get some more cherry branches,"</|quote|>he replied, evasively--and after a while: "I have a big | heard him making a noise, he seemed to be packing. I sensed something amiss and went over to him. He made out it was nothing, and I said to him: "Don't do anything silly, Detering." "Ach, why--it's merely that I can't sleep----" "What did you pick the cherry branches for?"<|quote|>"I might have been going to get some m... | not to be seen. Then at last he came back and had a couple of branches of cherry blossom in his hand. We made fun of him, and asked whether he was going to a wedding. He made no answer, but laid them on his bed. During the night I heard him making a noise, he seemed to be packing. I sensed something amiss and went over... | every death cuts into this thin support, and the years waste it rapidly. I see how it is already gradually breaking down around me. There is the mad story of Detering. He was one of those who kept himself to himself. His misfortune was that he saw a cherry tree in a garden. We were just coming back from the front line,... | it is not simple rest, but sharpest struggle for rest. In the outward form of our life we are hardly distinguishable from Bushmen; but whereas the latter can be so always, because they are so truly, and at best may develop further by exertion of their spiritual forces, with us it is the reverse;--our inner forces are n... | that? It is this, for example, that makes Tjaden spoon down his ham-and-pea soup in such tearing haste when an enemy attack is reported, simply because he cannot be sure that in an hour's time he will still be alive. We have discussed at length, whether it is right or not to do so. Kat condemns it, because, he says, a ... | Life has adapted itself even to this form. All other expressions lie in a winter sleep, life is simply one continual watch against the menace of death;--it has transformed us into unthinking animals in order to give us the weapon of instinct--it has reinforced us with dullness, so that we do not go to pieces before the... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
he replied, evasively--and after a while: | No speaker | get some more cherry branches,"<|quote|>he replied, evasively--and after a while:</|quote|>"I have a big orchard | might have been going to get some more cherry branches,"<|quote|>he replied, evasively--and after a while:</|quote|>"I have a big orchard with cherry trees at home. | sensed something amiss and went over to him. He made out it was nothing, and I said to him: "Don't do anything silly, Detering." "Ach, why--it's merely that I can't sleep----" "What did you pick the cherry branches for?" "I might have been going to get some more cherry branches,"<|quote|>he replied, evasively--and afte... | had a couple of branches of cherry blossom in his hand. We made fun of him, and asked whether he was going to a wedding. He made no answer, but laid them on his bed. During the night I heard him making a noise, he seemed to be packing. I sensed something amiss and went over to him. He made out it was nothing, and I sai... | it rapidly. I see how it is already gradually breaking down around me. There is the mad story of Detering. He was one of those who kept himself to himself. His misfortune was that he saw a cherry tree in a garden. We were just coming back from the front line, and at a turning of the road near our new billets, marvellou... | the outward form of our life we are hardly distinguishable from Bushmen; but whereas the latter can be so always, because they are so truly, and at best may develop further by exertion of their spiritual forces, with us it is the reverse;--our inner forces are not exerted toward regeneration, but toward degeneration. T... | his ham-and-pea soup in such tearing haste when an enemy attack is reported, simply because he cannot be sure that in an hour's time he will still be alive. We have discussed at length, whether it is right or not to do so. Kat condemns it, because, he says, a man has to reckon with the possibility of an abdominal wound... | battle becomes a ring that encircles us, we creep in upon ourselves, and with big eyes stare into the night. Our only comfort is the steady breathing of our comrades asleep, and thus we wait for the morning. * * Every day and every hour every shell and every death cuts into this thin support, and the years waste it rap... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"I have a big orchard with cherry trees at home. When they are in blossom, from the hay loft they look like one single sheet, so white. It is just the time." | Detering | replied, evasively--and after a while:<|quote|>"I have a big orchard with cherry trees at home. When they are in blossom, from the hay loft they look like one single sheet, so white. It is just the time."</|quote|>"Perhaps you will get leave | some more cherry branches," he replied, evasively--and after a while:<|quote|>"I have a big orchard with cherry trees at home. When they are in blossom, from the hay loft they look like one single sheet, so white. It is just the time."</|quote|>"Perhaps you will get leave soon. You may even be | to him. He made out it was nothing, and I said to him: "Don't do anything silly, Detering." "Ach, why--it's merely that I can't sleep----" "What did you pick the cherry branches for?" "I might have been going to get some more cherry branches," he replied, evasively--and after a while:<|quote|>"I have a big orchard with... | cherry blossom in his hand. We made fun of him, and asked whether he was going to a wedding. He made no answer, but laid them on his bed. During the night I heard him making a noise, he seemed to be packing. I sensed something amiss and went over to him. He made out it was nothing, and I said to him: "Don't do anything... | is already gradually breaking down around me. There is the mad story of Detering. He was one of those who kept himself to himself. His misfortune was that he saw a cherry tree in a garden. We were just coming back from the front line, and at a turning of the road near our new billets, marvellous in the morning twilight... | we are hardly distinguishable from Bushmen; but whereas the latter can be so always, because they are so truly, and at best may develop further by exertion of their spiritual forces, with us it is the reverse;--our inner forces are not exerted toward regeneration, but toward degeneration. The Bushmen are primitive and ... | haste when an enemy attack is reported, simply because he cannot be sure that in an hour's time he will still be alive. We have discussed at length, whether it is right or not to do so. Kat condemns it, because, he says, a man has to reckon with the possibility of an abdominal wound, and that is more dangerous on a ful... | had clear, conscious thought--it has awakened in us the sense of comradeship, so that we escape the abyss of solitude--it has lent us the indifference of wild creatures, so that in spite of all we perceive the positive in every moment, and store it up as a reserve against the onslaught of nothingness. Thus we live a cl... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Perhaps you will get leave soon. You may even be sent back as a farmer." | Paul | It is just the time."<|quote|>"Perhaps you will get leave soon. You may even be sent back as a farmer."</|quote|>He nodded, but he was | one single sheet, so white. It is just the time."<|quote|>"Perhaps you will get leave soon. You may even be sent back as a farmer."</|quote|>He nodded, but he was far away. When these peasants | for?" "I might have been going to get some more cherry branches," he replied, evasively--and after a while: "I have a big orchard with cherry trees at home. When they are in blossom, from the hay loft they look like one single sheet, so white. It is just the time."<|quote|>"Perhaps you will get leave soon. You may e... | I heard him making a noise, he seemed to be packing. I sensed something amiss and went over to him. He made out it was nothing, and I said to him: "Don't do anything silly, Detering." "Ach, why--it's merely that I can't sleep----" "What did you pick the cherry branches for?" "I might have been going to get some more ch... | tree in a garden. We were just coming back from the front line, and at a turning of the road near our new billets, marvellous in the morning twilight, stood this cherry tree before us. It had no leaves, but was one white mass of blossom. In the evening Detering was not to be seen. Then at last he came back and had a co... | us it is the reverse;--our inner forces are not exerted toward regeneration, but toward degeneration. The Bushmen are primitive and naturally so, but we are primitive in an artificial sense, and by virtue of the utmost effort. And at night, waking out of a dream, overwhelmed and bewitched by the crowding faces, a man p... | or not to do so. Kat condemns it, because, he says, a man has to reckon with the possibility of an abdominal wound, and that is more dangerous on a full stomach than on an empty one. Such things are real problems, they are serious matters to us, they cannot be otherwise. Here, on the borders of death, life follows an a... | incident strike out a spark. But then unexpectedly a flame of grievous and terrible yearning flares up. Those are the dangerous moments. They show us that the adjustment is only artificial, that it is not simple rest, but sharpest struggle for rest. In the outward form of our life we are hardly distinguishable from Bus... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
He nodded, but he was far away. When these peasants are excited they have a curious expression, a mixture of cow and yearning god, half stupid and half rapt. In order to turn him away from his thoughts I asked him for a piece of bread. He gave it to me without a murmur. That was suspicious, for he is usually tight-f... | No speaker | sent back as a farmer."<|quote|>He nodded, but he was far away. When these peasants are excited they have a curious expression, a mixture of cow and yearning god, half stupid and half rapt. In order to turn him away from his thoughts I asked him for a piece of bread. He gave it to me without a murmur. That was suspi... | soon. You may even be sent back as a farmer."<|quote|>He nodded, but he was far away. When these peasants are excited they have a curious expression, a mixture of cow and yearning god, half stupid and half rapt. In order to turn him away from his thoughts I asked him for a piece of bread. He gave it to me without a ... | after a while: "I have a big orchard with cherry trees at home. When they are in blossom, from the hay loft they look like one single sheet, so white. It is just the time." "Perhaps you will get leave soon. You may even be sent back as a farmer."<|quote|>He nodded, but he was far away. When these peasants are excit... | and went over to him. He made out it was nothing, and I said to him: "Don't do anything silly, Detering." "Ach, why--it's merely that I can't sleep----" "What did you pick the cherry branches for?" "I might have been going to get some more cherry branches," he replied, evasively--and after a while: "I have a big orchar... | a turning of the road near our new billets, marvellous in the morning twilight, stood this cherry tree before us. It had no leaves, but was one white mass of blossom. In the evening Detering was not to be seen. Then at last he came back and had a couple of branches of cherry blossom in his hand. We made fun of him, and... | The Bushmen are primitive and naturally so, but we are primitive in an artificial sense, and by virtue of the utmost effort. And at night, waking out of a dream, overwhelmed and bewitched by the crowding faces, a man perceives with alarm how slight is the support, how thin the boundary that divides him from the darknes... | reckon with the possibility of an abdominal wound, and that is more dangerous on a full stomach than on an empty one. Such things are real problems, they are serious matters to us, they cannot be otherwise. Here, on the borders of death, life follows an amazingly simple course, it is limited to what is most necessary, ... | was that he saw a cherry tree in a garden. We were just coming back from the front line, and at a turning of the road near our new billets, marvellous in the morning twilight, stood this cherry tree before us. It had no leaves, but was one white mass of blossom. In the evening Detering was not to be seen. Then at last ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
asks Berger. The other describes the place to him. Berger goes off either to fetch the beast in or to shoot it. Six months ago he would not have cared, he would have been reasonable. We try to prevent him. Then, as he goes off grimly, all we can say is: | No speaker | lies a wounded messenger-dog. "Where?"<|quote|>asks Berger. The other describes the place to him. Berger goes off either to fetch the beast in or to shoot it. Six months ago he would not have cared, he would have been reasonable. We try to prevent him. Then, as he goes off grimly, all we can say is:</|quote|>"You'... | of hundred yards distant there lies a wounded messenger-dog. "Where?"<|quote|>asks Berger. The other describes the place to him. Berger goes off either to fetch the beast in or to shoot it. Six months ago he would not have cared, he would have been reasonable. We try to prevent him. Then, as he goes off grimly, al... | alongside us; Berger has fetched it, and now the counter-attack comes over from behind; we are set free and make contact with the rear. Afterwards, as we lie in comparatively good cover, one of the food-carriers reports that a couple of hundred yards distant there lies a wounded messenger-dog. "Where?"<|quote|>asks Ber... | the case, every man pisses in it, and thus we again have water, and are able to continue firing. But behind us the attack crashes ever nearer. A few minutes and we are lost. Then, at closest range, a second machine-gun bursts out. It is set up in a crater alongside us; Berger has fetched it, and now the counter-attack ... | established themselves, the fight is carried on from clusters of shell-holes. We are in a crater, the English are coming down obliquely, they are turning our flank and working in behind us. We are surrounded. It is not easy to surrender, fog and smoke hang over us, no one would recognize that we wanted to give ourselve... | after he was gone. I noticed it, but said nothing, in order to give him time; he might perhaps get through. Various fellows have already got into Holland. But at roll call he was missed. A week after we heard that he had been caught by the field gendarmes, those despicable military police. He had headed toward Germany,... | battle becomes a ring that encircles us, we creep in upon ourselves, and with big eyes stare into the night. Our only comfort is the steady breathing of our comrades asleep, and thus we wait for the morning. * * Every day and every hour every shell and every death cuts into this thin support, and the years waste it rap... | know about it? We have heard nothing more of Detering. * * But sometimes it broke out in other ways, this danger, these pent-up things, as from an overheated boiler. It will be enough to tell how Berger met his end. Our trenches have now for some time been shot to pieces, and we have an elastic line, so that there is p... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
and let him go. For these cases of front-line madness become dangerous if one is not able to fling the man to the ground and hold him fast. And Berger is six feet and the most powerful man in the company. He is absolutely mad for he has to pass through the barrage; but this lightning that lowers somewhere above us a... | No speaker | can say is: "You're mad,"<|quote|>and let him go. For these cases of front-line madness become dangerous if one is not able to fling the man to the ground and hold him fast. And Berger is six feet and the most powerful man in the company. He is absolutely mad for he has to pass through the barrage; but this lightnin... | goes off grimly, all we can say is: "You're mad,"<|quote|>and let him go. For these cases of front-line madness become dangerous if one is not able to fling the man to the ground and hold him fast. And Berger is six feet and the most powerful man in the company. He is absolutely mad for he has to pass through the ba... | other describes the place to him. Berger goes off either to fetch the beast in or to shoot it. Six months ago he would not have cared, he would have been reasonable. We try to prevent him. Then, as he goes off grimly, all we can say is: "You're mad,"<|quote|>and let him go. For these cases of front-line madness become... | has fetched it, and now the counter-attack comes over from behind; we are set free and make contact with the rear. Afterwards, as we lie in comparatively good cover, one of the food-carriers reports that a couple of hundred yards distant there lies a wounded messenger-dog. "Where?" asks Berger. The other describes the... | wanted to give ourselves up, and perhaps we don't want to, a man doesn't even know himself at such moments. We hear the explosions of the hand-grenades coming toward us. Our machine-gun sweeps over the semicircle in front of us. The cooling-water evaporates, we hastily pass round the case, every man pisses in it, and t... | He had headed toward Germany, that was hopeless, of course--and, of course, he did everything else just as idiotically. Anyone might have known that his flight was only home-sickness and a momentary aberration. But what does a court martial hundreds of miles behind the front-line know about it? We have heard nothing mo... | thin support, and the years waste it rapidly. I see how it is already gradually breaking down around me. There is the mad story of Detering. He was one of those who kept himself to himself. His misfortune was that he saw a cherry tree in a garden. We were just coming back from the front line, and at a turning of the ro... | was missed. A week after we heard that he had been caught by the field gendarmes, those despicable military police. He had headed toward Germany, that was hopeless, of course--and, of course, he did everything else just as idiotically. Anyone might have known that his flight was only home-sickness and a momentary aberr... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Our artillery is fired out, it has too few shells and the barrels are so worn that they shoot uncertainly, and scatter so widely as even to fall on ourselves. We have too few horses. Our fresh troops are anaemic boys in need of rest, who cannot carry a pack, but merely know how to die. By thousands. They understand... | No speaker | pulling up one's trousers again----"<|quote|>Our artillery is fired out, it has too few shells and the barrels are so worn that they shoot uncertainly, and scatter so widely as even to fall on ourselves. We have too few horses. Our fresh troops are anaemic boys in need of rest, who cannot carry a pack, but merely kno... | "It is not much sense pulling up one's trousers again----"<|quote|>Our artillery is fired out, it has too few shells and the barrels are so worn that they shoot uncertainly, and scatter so widely as even to fall on ourselves. We have too few horses. Our fresh troops are anaemic boys in need of rest, who cannot carry ... | at home ought to be shown these grey, yellow, miserable, wasted faces here, these bent figures from whose bodies the colic wrings out the blood, and who with lips trembling and distorted with pain, grin at one another and say: "It is not much sense pulling up one's trousers again----"<|quote|>Our artillery is fired out... | many new guns. Too many aeroplanes. But we are emaciated and starved. Our food is so bad and mixed up with so much substitute stuff that it makes us ill. The factory owners in Germany have grown wealthy;--dysentery dissolves our bowels. The latrine poles are always densely crowded; the people at home ought to be shown ... | in the stomach. He lived for half an hour, quite conscious, and in terrible pain. Before he died he handed over his pocketbook to me, and bequeathed me his boots--the same that he once inherited from Kemmerich. I wear them, for they fit me quite well. After me Tjaden will get them, I have promised them to him. We have ... | fetch the beast in or to shoot it. Six months ago he would not have cared, he would have been reasonable. We try to prevent him. Then, as he goes off grimly, all we can say is: "You're mad," and let him go. For these cases of front-line madness become dangerous if one is not able to fling the man to the ground and hol... | him time; he might perhaps get through. Various fellows have already got into Holland. But at roll call he was missed. A week after we heard that he had been caught by the field gendarmes, those despicable military police. He had headed toward Germany, that was hopeless, of course--and, of course, he did everything els... | was one man who even tried to dig himself into the ground with hands, feet, and teeth. It is true, such things are often simulated, but the pretence itself is a symptom. Berger, who means to finish off the dog, is carried off with a wound in the pelvis, and one of the fellows who carry him gets a bullet in the cheek wh... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Germany ought to be empty soon," | Katczinsky | such a thing as cover.<|quote|>"Germany ought to be empty soon,"</|quote|>says Kat. We have given | they had ever heard of such a thing as cover.<|quote|>"Germany ought to be empty soon,"</|quote|>says Kat. We have given up hope that some day | know how to die. By thousands. They understand nothing about warfare, they simply go on and let themselves be shot down. A single flyer routed two companies of them for a joke, just as they came fresh from the train--before they had ever heard of such a thing as cover.<|quote|>"Germany ought to be empty soon,"</|quote|... | is fired out, it has too few shells and the barrels are so worn that they shoot uncertainly, and scatter so widely as even to fall on ourselves. We have too few horses. Our fresh troops are anaemic boys in need of rest, who cannot carry a pack, but merely know how to die. By thousands. They understand nothing about war... | guns. Too many aeroplanes. But we are emaciated and starved. Our food is so bad and mixed up with so much substitute stuff that it makes us ill. The factory owners in Germany have grown wealthy;--dysentery dissolves our bowels. The latrine poles are always densely crowded; the people at home ought to be shown these gre... | struck him and made him demented. It affects others so that they begin to rave, to run away--there was one man who even tried to dig himself into the ground with hands, feet, and teeth. It is true, such things are often simulated, but the pretence itself is a symptom. Berger, who means to finish off the dog, is carried... | other ways, this danger, these pent-up things, as from an overheated boiler. It will be enough to tell how Berger met his end. Our trenches have now for some time been shot to pieces, and we have an elastic line, so that there is practically no longer any proper trench warfare. When attack and counter-attack have waged... | me his boots--the same that he once inherited from Kemmerich. I wear them, for they fit me quite well. After me Tjaden will get them, I have promised them to him. We have been able to bury Müller, but he is not likely to remain long undisturbed. Our lines are falling back. There are too many fresh English and American ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
says Kat. We have given up hope that some day an end may come. We never think so far. A man can stop a bullet and be killed; he can get wounded, and then the hospital is his next stop. There, if they do not amputate him, he sooner or later falls into the hands of one of those staff surgeons who, with the War Servic... | No speaker | ought to be empty soon,"<|quote|>says Kat. We have given up hope that some day an end may come. We never think so far. A man can stop a bullet and be killed; he can get wounded, and then the hospital is his next stop. There, if they do not amputate him, he sooner or later falls into the hands of one of those staff ... | a thing as cover. "Germany ought to be empty soon,"<|quote|>says Kat. We have given up hope that some day an end may come. We never think so far. A man can stop a bullet and be killed; he can get wounded, and then the hospital is his next stop. There, if they do not amputate him, he sooner or later falls into the h... | They understand nothing about warfare, they simply go on and let themselves be shot down. A single flyer routed two companies of them for a joke, just as they came fresh from the train--before they had ever heard of such a thing as cover. "Germany ought to be empty soon,"<|quote|>says Kat. We have given up hope that s... | few shells and the barrels are so worn that they shoot uncertainly, and scatter so widely as even to fall on ourselves. We have too few horses. Our fresh troops are anaemic boys in need of rest, who cannot carry a pack, but merely know how to die. By thousands. They understand nothing about warfare, they simply go on a... | are emaciated and starved. Our food is so bad and mixed up with so much substitute stuff that it makes us ill. The factory owners in Germany have grown wealthy;--dysentery dissolves our bowels. The latrine poles are always densely crowded; the people at home ought to be shown these grey, yellow, miserable, wasted faces... | It affects others so that they begin to rave, to run away--there was one man who even tried to dig himself into the ground with hands, feet, and teeth. It is true, such things are often simulated, but the pretence itself is a symptom. Berger, who means to finish off the dog, is carried off with a wound in the pelvis, a... | things, as from an overheated boiler. It will be enough to tell how Berger met his end. Our trenches have now for some time been shot to pieces, and we have an elastic line, so that there is practically no longer any proper trench warfare. When attack and counter-attack have waged backwards and forwards there remains a... | tried to dig himself into the ground with hands, feet, and teeth. It is true, such things are often simulated, but the pretence itself is a symptom. Berger, who means to finish off the dog, is carried off with a wound in the pelvis, and one of the fellows who carry him gets a bullet in the cheek while doing it. * * Mül... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Kat tells a story that has travelled the whole length of the front from the Vosges to Flanders;--of the staff surgeon who reads the names on the list, and when a man comes before him, without looking up, says: | No speaker | The man is A1. Dismiss!"<|quote|>Kat tells a story that has travelled the whole length of the front from the Vosges to Flanders;--of the staff surgeon who reads the names on the list, and when a man comes before him, without looking up, says:</|quote|>"A1. We need soldiers up | to run at the front. The man is A1. Dismiss!"<|quote|>Kat tells a story that has travelled the whole length of the front from the Vosges to Flanders;--of the staff surgeon who reads the names on the list, and when a man comes before him, without looking up, says:</|quote|>"A1. We need soldiers up there." A fellow with... | he sooner or later falls into the hands of one of those staff surgeons who, with the War Service Cross in his button-hole, says to him: "What, one leg a bit short? If you have any pluck you don't need to run at the front. The man is A1. Dismiss!"<|quote|>Kat tells a story that has travelled the whole length of the f... | be empty soon," says Kat. We have given up hope that some day an end may come. We never think so far. A man can stop a bullet and be killed; he can get wounded, and then the hospital is his next stop. There, if they do not amputate him, he sooner or later falls into the hands of one of those staff surgeons who, wit... | it has too few shells and the barrels are so worn that they shoot uncertainly, and scatter so widely as even to fall on ourselves. We have too few horses. Our fresh troops are anaemic boys in need of rest, who cannot carry a pack, but merely know how to die. By thousands. They understand nothing about warfare, they sim... | for half an hour, quite conscious, and in terrible pain. Before he died he handed over his pocketbook to me, and bequeathed me his boots--the same that he once inherited from Kemmerich. I wear them, for they fit me quite well. After me Tjaden will get them, I have promised them to him. We have been able to bury Müller,... | coming down obliquely, they are turning our flank and working in behind us. We are surrounded. It is not easy to surrender, fog and smoke hang over us, no one would recognize that we wanted to give ourselves up, and perhaps we don't want to, a man doesn't even know himself at such moments. We hear the explosions of the... | with so much substitute stuff that it makes us ill. The factory owners in Germany have grown wealthy;--dysentery dissolves our bowels. The latrine poles are always densely crowded; the people at home ought to be shown these grey, yellow, miserable, wasted faces here, these bent figures from whose bodies the colic wring... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
A fellow with a wooden leg comes up before him, the staff surgeon again says A1---- | No speaker | We need soldiers up there."<|quote|>A fellow with a wooden leg comes up before him, the staff surgeon again says A1----</|quote|>"And then," Kat raises his | without looking up, says: "A1. We need soldiers up there."<|quote|>A fellow with a wooden leg comes up before him, the staff surgeon again says A1----</|quote|>"And then," Kat raises his voice, "the fellow says to | The man is A1. Dismiss!" Kat tells a story that has travelled the whole length of the front from the Vosges to Flanders;--of the staff surgeon who reads the names on the list, and when a man comes before him, without looking up, says: "A1. We need soldiers up there."<|quote|>A fellow with a wooden leg comes up before ... | they do not amputate him, he sooner or later falls into the hands of one of those staff surgeons who, with the War Service Cross in his button-hole, says to him: "What, one leg a bit short? If you have any pluck you don't need to run at the front. The man is A1. Dismiss!" Kat tells a story that has travelled the who... | but merely know how to die. By thousands. They understand nothing about warfare, they simply go on and let themselves be shot down. A single flyer routed two companies of them for a joke, just as they came fresh from the train--before they had ever heard of such a thing as cover. "Germany ought to be empty soon," says ... | get them, I have promised them to him. We have been able to bury Müller, but he is not likely to remain long undisturbed. Our lines are falling back. There are too many fresh English and American regiments over there. There's too much corned beef and white wheaten bread. Too many new guns. Too many aeroplanes. But we a... | a man doesn't even know himself at such moments. We hear the explosions of the hand-grenades coming toward us. Our machine-gun sweeps over the semicircle in front of us. The cooling-water evaporates, we hastily pass round the case, every man pisses in it, and thus we again have water, and are able to continue firing. B... | white wheaten bread. Too many new guns. Too many aeroplanes. But we are emaciated and starved. Our food is so bad and mixed up with so much substitute stuff that it makes us ill. The factory owners in Germany have grown wealthy;--dysentery dissolves our bowels. The latrine poles are always densely crowded; the people a... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"And then," | Katczinsky | staff surgeon again says A1----<|quote|>"And then,"</|quote|>Kat raises his voice, "the | comes up before him, the staff surgeon again says A1----<|quote|>"And then,"</|quote|>Kat raises his voice, "the fellow says to him: 'I | the front from the Vosges to Flanders;--of the staff surgeon who reads the names on the list, and when a man comes before him, without looking up, says: "A1. We need soldiers up there." A fellow with a wooden leg comes up before him, the staff surgeon again says A1----<|quote|>"And then,"</|quote|>Kat raises his voice... | those staff surgeons who, with the War Service Cross in his button-hole, says to him: "What, one leg a bit short? If you have any pluck you don't need to run at the front. The man is A1. Dismiss!" Kat tells a story that has travelled the whole length of the front from the Vosges to Flanders;--of the staff surgeon wh... | on and let themselves be shot down. A single flyer routed two companies of them for a joke, just as they came fresh from the train--before they had ever heard of such a thing as cover. "Germany ought to be empty soon," says Kat. We have given up hope that some day an end may come. We never think so far. A man can st... | he is not likely to remain long undisturbed. Our lines are falling back. There are too many fresh English and American regiments over there. There's too much corned beef and white wheaten bread. Too many new guns. Too many aeroplanes. But we are emaciated and starved. Our food is so bad and mixed up with so much substi... | coming toward us. Our machine-gun sweeps over the semicircle in front of us. The cooling-water evaporates, we hastily pass round the case, every man pisses in it, and thus we again have water, and are able to continue firing. But behind us the attack crashes ever nearer. A few minutes and we are lost. Then, at closest ... | barrels are so worn that they shoot uncertainly, and scatter so widely as even to fall on ourselves. We have too few horses. Our fresh troops are anaemic boys in need of rest, who cannot carry a pack, but merely know how to die. By thousands. They understand nothing about warfare, they simply go on and let themselves b... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Kat raises his voice, | No speaker | again says A1---- "And then,"<|quote|>Kat raises his voice,</|quote|>"the fellow says to him: | before him, the staff surgeon again says A1---- "And then,"<|quote|>Kat raises his voice,</|quote|>"the fellow says to him: 'I already have a wooden | from the Vosges to Flanders;--of the staff surgeon who reads the names on the list, and when a man comes before him, without looking up, says: "A1. We need soldiers up there." A fellow with a wooden leg comes up before him, the staff surgeon again says A1---- "And then,"<|quote|>Kat raises his voice,</|quote|>"the fel... | surgeons who, with the War Service Cross in his button-hole, says to him: "What, one leg a bit short? If you have any pluck you don't need to run at the front. The man is A1. Dismiss!" Kat tells a story that has travelled the whole length of the front from the Vosges to Flanders;--of the staff surgeon who reads the ... | let themselves be shot down. A single flyer routed two companies of them for a joke, just as they came fresh from the train--before they had ever heard of such a thing as cover. "Germany ought to be empty soon," says Kat. We have given up hope that some day an end may come. We never think so far. A man can stop a bu... | not likely to remain long undisturbed. Our lines are falling back. There are too many fresh English and American regiments over there. There's too much corned beef and white wheaten bread. Too many new guns. Too many aeroplanes. But we are emaciated and starved. Our food is so bad and mixed up with so much substitute s... | us. Our machine-gun sweeps over the semicircle in front of us. The cooling-water evaporates, we hastily pass round the case, every man pisses in it, and thus we again have water, and are able to continue firing. But behind us the attack crashes ever nearer. A few minutes and we are lost. Then, at closest range, a secon... | grey, yellow, miserable, wasted faces here, these bent figures from whose bodies the colic wrings out the blood, and who with lips trembling and distorted with pain, grin at one another and say: "It is not much sense pulling up one's trousers again----" Our artillery is fired out, it has too few shells and the barrels ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"the fellow says to him: 'I already have a wooden leg, but when I go back again and they shoot off my head, then I will get a wooden head made and become a staff surgeon." | Katczinsky | then," Kat raises his voice,<|quote|>"the fellow says to him: 'I already have a wooden leg, but when I go back again and they shoot off my head, then I will get a wooden head made and become a staff surgeon."</|quote|>This answer tickles us all | surgeon again says A1---- "And then," Kat raises his voice,<|quote|>"the fellow says to him: 'I already have a wooden leg, but when I go back again and they shoot off my head, then I will get a wooden head made and become a staff surgeon."</|quote|>This answer tickles us all immensely. There may be good | Flanders;--of the staff surgeon who reads the names on the list, and when a man comes before him, without looking up, says: "A1. We need soldiers up there." A fellow with a wooden leg comes up before him, the staff surgeon again says A1---- "And then," Kat raises his voice,<|quote|>"the fellow says to him: 'I already ... | War Service Cross in his button-hole, says to him: "What, one leg a bit short? If you have any pluck you don't need to run at the front. The man is A1. Dismiss!" Kat tells a story that has travelled the whole length of the front from the Vosges to Flanders;--of the staff surgeon who reads the names on the list, and ... | down. A single flyer routed two companies of them for a joke, just as they came fresh from the train--before they had ever heard of such a thing as cover. "Germany ought to be empty soon," says Kat. We have given up hope that some day an end may come. We never think so far. A man can stop a bullet and be killed; he ... | long undisturbed. Our lines are falling back. There are too many fresh English and American regiments over there. There's too much corned beef and white wheaten bread. Too many new guns. Too many aeroplanes. But we are emaciated and starved. Our food is so bad and mixed up with so much substitute stuff that it makes us... | over the semicircle in front of us. The cooling-water evaporates, we hastily pass round the case, every man pisses in it, and thus we again have water, and are able to continue firing. But behind us the attack crashes ever nearer. A few minutes and we are lost. Then, at closest range, a second machine-gun bursts out. I... | grey, yellow, miserable, wasted faces here, these bent figures from whose bodies the colic wrings out the blood, and who with lips trembling and distorted with pain, grin at one another and say: "It is not much sense pulling up one's trousers again----" Our artillery is fired out, it has too few shells and the barrels ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
This answer tickles us all immensely. There may be good doctors, and there are, lots of them; all the same, every soldier some time during his hundreds of inspections falls into the clutches of one of these countless hero-grabbers who pride themselves on changing as many C3's and B3's as possible into A1's. There are... | No speaker | and become a staff surgeon."<|quote|>This answer tickles us all immensely. There may be good doctors, and there are, lots of them; all the same, every soldier some time during his hundreds of inspections falls into the clutches of one of these countless hero-grabbers who pride themselves on changing as many C3's and B... | get a wooden head made and become a staff surgeon."<|quote|>This answer tickles us all immensely. There may be good doctors, and there are, lots of them; all the same, every soldier some time during his hundreds of inspections falls into the clutches of one of these countless hero-grabbers who pride themselves on chan... | before him, the staff surgeon again says A1---- "And then," Kat raises his voice, "the fellow says to him: 'I already have a wooden leg, but when I go back again and they shoot off my head, then I will get a wooden head made and become a staff surgeon."<|quote|>This answer tickles us all immensely. There may be good d... | story that has travelled the whole length of the front from the Vosges to Flanders;--of the staff surgeon who reads the names on the list, and when a man comes before him, without looking up, says: "A1. We need soldiers up there." A fellow with a wooden leg comes up before him, the staff surgeon again says A1---- "And... | says Kat. We have given up hope that some day an end may come. We never think so far. A man can stop a bullet and be killed; he can get wounded, and then the hospital is his next stop. There, if they do not amputate him, he sooner or later falls into the hands of one of those staff surgeons who, with the War Servic... | are emaciated and starved. Our food is so bad and mixed up with so much substitute stuff that it makes us ill. The factory owners in Germany have grown wealthy;--dysentery dissolves our bowels. The latrine poles are always densely crowded; the people at home ought to be shown these grey, yellow, miserable, wasted faces... | the attack crashes ever nearer. A few minutes and we are lost. Then, at closest range, a second machine-gun bursts out. It is set up in a crater alongside us; Berger has fetched it, and now the counter-attack comes over from behind; we are set free and make contact with the rear. Afterwards, as we lie in comparatively ... | and starved. Our food is so bad and mixed up with so much substitute stuff that it makes us ill. The factory owners in Germany have grown wealthy;--dysentery dissolves our bowels. The latrine poles are always densely crowded; the people at home ought to be shown these grey, yellow, miserable, wasted faces here, these b... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
and slips back into the hole. The hindermost of the two flame-throwers is hit, he falls, the hose slips away from the other fellow, the fire squirts about on all sides and the man burns. Bertinck has a chest wound. After a while a fragment smashes away his chin, and the same fragment has sufficient force to tear ope... | No speaker | gun drop and says: "Good,"<|quote|>and slips back into the hole. The hindermost of the two flame-throwers is hit, he falls, the hose slips away from the other fellow, the fire squirts about on all sides and the man burns. Bertinck has a chest wound. After a while a fragment smashes away his chin, and the same fragme... | rifle cracks. Bertinck lets the gun drop and says: "Good,"<|quote|>and slips back into the hole. The hindermost of the two flame-throwers is hit, he falls, the hose slips away from the other fellow, the fire squirts about on all sides and the man burns. Bertinck has a chest wound. After a while a fragment smashes aw... | hole, and lying down propped on his elbows, he takes aim. He fires--the same moment a bullet smacks into him, they have got him. Still he lies and aims again;--once he shifts and again takes his aim; at last the rifle cracks. Bertinck lets the gun drop and says: "Good,"<|quote|>and slips back into the hole. The hinder... | open fire on them. But they work nearer and things begin to look bad. Bertinck is lying in the hole with us. When he sees that we cannot escape because under the sharp fire we must make the most of this cover, he takes a rifle, crawls out of the hole, and lying down propped on his elbows, he takes aim. He fires--the sa... | He was one of those superb front-line officers who are foremost in every hot place. He was with us for two years without being wounded, so that something had to happen in the end. We occupy a crater and get surrounded. The stink of petroleum or oil blows across with the fumes of powder. Two fellows with a flame-thrower... | merely honest and call a thing by its name; for there is a very great deal of fraud, injustice, and baseness in the army.--Is it nothing that regiment after regiment returns again and again to the ever more hopeless struggle, that attack follows attack along the weakening, retreating, crumbling line? From a mockery the... | one another and say: "It is not much sense pulling up one's trousers again----" Our artillery is fired out, it has too few shells and the barrels are so worn that they shoot uncertainly, and scatter so widely as even to fall on ourselves. We have too few horses. Our fresh troops are anaemic boys in need of rest, who ... | other possibilities. * * In one attack our Company Commander, Bertinck, falls. He was one of those superb front-line officers who are foremost in every hot place. He was with us for two years without being wounded, so that something had to happen in the end. We occupy a crater and get surrounded. The stink of petroleum... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"At last--just at the last----" | Katczinsky | bone, and Kat groans desperately:<|quote|>"At last--just at the last----"</|quote|>I comfort him. "Who knows | smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately:<|quote|>"At last--just at the last----"</|quote|>I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will | sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately:<|quote|>"At last--just at the last----"</|quote|>I comfo... | grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, ... | go out, the rain at once soaks through our overcoat and clothing;--and we remain wet all the time we are in the line. We never get dry. Those who still wear high boots tie sand bags round the top so that the mud does not pour in so fast. The rifles are caked, the uniforms caked, everything is fluid and dissolved, the e... | than ever. Summer of 1918--Never was life in the line more bitter and more full of horror than in the hours of the bombardment, when the blanched faces lie in the dirt, and the hands clutch at the one thought: No! No! Not now! Not now at the last moment! Summer of 1918--Breath of hope that sweeps over the scorched fiel... | done for, we cannot retreat yet. We open fire on them. But they work nearer and things begin to look bad. Bertinck is lying in the hole with us. When he sees that we cannot escape because under the sharp fire we must make the most of this cover, he takes a rifle, crawls out of the hole, and lying down propped on his el... | fluid earth, grey dying. If we go out, the rain at once soaks through our overcoat and clothing;--and we remain wet all the time we are in the line. We never get dry. Those who still wear high boots tie sand bags round the top so that the mud does not pour in so fast. The rifles are caked, the uniforms caked, everythin... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I comfort him. | No speaker | "At last--just at the last----"<|quote|>I comfort him.</|quote|>"Who knows how long the | bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----"<|quote|>I comfort him.</|quote|>"Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! | holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----"<|quote|>I comfort him.</|quote|>"Who knows how long t... | of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and... | once soaks through our overcoat and clothing;--and we remain wet all the time we are in the line. We never get dry. Those who still wear high boots tie sand bags round the top so that the mud does not pour in so fast. The rifles are caked, the uniforms caked, everything is fluid and dissolved, the earth one dripping, s... | was life in the line more bitter and more full of horror than in the hours of the bombardment, when the blanched faces lie in the dirt, and the hands clutch at the one thought: No! No! Not now! Not now at the last moment! Summer of 1918--Breath of hope that sweeps over the scorched fields, raging fever of impatience, o... | yet. We open fire on them. But they work nearer and things begin to look bad. Bertinck is lying in the hole with us. When he sees that we cannot escape because under the sharp fire we must make the most of this cover, he takes a rifle, crawls out of the hole, and lying down propped on his elbows, he takes aim. He fires... | one German plane there come at least five English and American. For one hungry, wretched German soldier come five of the enemy, fresh and fit. For one German army loaf there are fifty tins of canned beef over there. We are not beaten, for as soldiers we are better and more experienced; we are simply crushed and driven ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----" | Paul | the last----" I comfort him.<|quote|>"Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----"</|quote|>The wound begins to bleed | groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him.<|quote|>"Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----"</|quote|>The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left | jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him.<|quote|>"Who knows how long the mess will go on yet... | forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these la... | our overcoat and clothing;--and we remain wet all the time we are in the line. We never get dry. Those who still wear high boots tie sand bags round the top so that the mud does not pour in so fast. The rifles are caked, the uniforms caked, everything is fluid and dissolved, the earth one dripping, soaked, oily mass in... | the line more bitter and more full of horror than in the hours of the bombardment, when the blanched faces lie in the dirt, and the hands clutch at the one thought: No! No! Not now! Not now at the last moment! Summer of 1918--Breath of hope that sweeps over the scorched fields, raging fever of impatience, of disappoint... | fire on them. But they work nearer and things begin to look bad. Bertinck is lying in the hole with us. When he sees that we cannot escape because under the sharp fire we must make the most of this cover, he takes a rifle, crawls out of the hole, and lying down propped on his elbows, he takes aim. He fires--the same mo... | was so much silently suffered as in the moment when we depart once again for the front-line. Wild, tormenting rumours of an armistice and peace are in the air, they lay hold on our hearts and make the return to the front harder than ever. Summer of 1918--Never was life in the line more bitter and more full of horror th... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We... | No speaker | yet! Now you are saved----"<|quote|>The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest.... | the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----"<|quote|>The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with ... | bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----"<|quote|>The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left ... | wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his w... | line. We never get dry. Those who still wear high boots tie sand bags round the top so that the mud does not pour in so fast. The rifles are caked, the uniforms caked, everything is fluid and dissolved, the earth one dripping, soaked, oily mass in which lie the yellow pools with red spiral streams of blood and into whi... | the bombardment, when the blanched faces lie in the dirt, and the hands clutch at the one thought: No! No! Not now! Not now at the last moment! Summer of 1918--Breath of hope that sweeps over the scorched fields, raging fever of impatience, of disappointment, of the most agonizing terror of death, insensate question: W... | is lying in the hole with us. When he sees that we cannot escape because under the sharp fire we must make the most of this cover, he takes a rifle, crawls out of the hole, and lying down propped on his elbows, he takes aim. He fires--the same moment a bullet smacks into him, they have got him. Still he lies and aims a... | 1918--Never has life in its niggardliness seemed to us so desirable as now;--the red poppies in the meadows round our billets, the smooth beetles on the blades of grass, the warm evenings in the cool, dim rooms, the black, mysterious trees of the twilight, the stars and the flowing waters, dreams and long sleep----. O ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Shall we go on again, Kat?" | Paul | for the place is dangerous.<|quote|>"Shall we go on again, Kat?"</|quote|>"Must, Paul." "Then come." I | to let us go on, for the place is dangerous.<|quote|>"Shall we go on again, Kat?"</|quote|>"Must, Paul." "Then come." I raise him up, he stands | He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I sweat and my face is swollen with the strain of carrying. All the same I urge him to let us go on, for the place is dangerous.<|quote|>"Shall we go on again, Kat?"</|quote|>"Must, Paul." "Then come." I raise... | fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opene... | hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be s... | there come at least five English and American. For one hungry, wretched German soldier come five of the enemy, fresh and fit. For one German army loaf there are fifty tins of canned beef over there. We are not beaten, for as soldiers we are better and more experienced; we are simply crushed and driven back by overwhelm... | from the other fellow, the fire squirts about on all sides and the man burns. Bertinck has a chest wound. After a while a fragment smashes away his chin, and the same fragment has sufficient force to tear open Leer's hip. Leer groans as he supports himself on his arm, he bleeds quickly, no one can help him. Like an emp... | all the time we are in the line. We never get dry. Those who still wear high boots tie sand bags round the top so that the mud does not pour in so fast. The rifles are caked, the uniforms caked, everything is fluid and dissolved, the earth one dripping, soaked, oily mass in which lie the yellow pools with red spiral st... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Must, Paul." | Katczinsky | we go on again, Kat?"<|quote|>"Must, Paul."</|quote|>"Then come." I raise him | the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again, Kat?"<|quote|>"Must, Paul."</|quote|>"Then come." I raise him up, he stands on the | We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I sweat and my face is swollen with the strain of carrying. All the same I urge him to let us go on, for the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again, Kat?"<|quote|>"Must, Paul."</|quote|>"Then come." I raise him up, he stands on the uninj... | himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and... | and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and ... | and American. For one hungry, wretched German soldier come five of the enemy, fresh and fit. For one German army loaf there are fifty tins of canned beef over there. We are not beaten, for as soldiers we are better and more experienced; we are simply crushed and driven back by overwhelmingly superior forces. Behind us ... | squirts about on all sides and the man burns. Bertinck has a chest wound. After a while a fragment smashes away his chin, and the same fragment has sufficient force to tear open Leer's hip. Leer groans as he supports himself on his arm, he bleeds quickly, no one can help him. Like an emptying tube, after a couple of mi... | And why do these rumours of an end fly about? * * There are so many airmen here, and they are so sure of themselves that they give chase to single individuals, just as though they were hares. For every one German plane there come at least five English and American. For one hungry, wretched German soldier come five of t... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Then come." | Paul | on again, Kat?" "Must, Paul."<|quote|>"Then come."</|quote|>I raise him up, he | is dangerous. "Shall we go on again, Kat?" "Must, Paul."<|quote|>"Then come."</|quote|>I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured leg | not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I sweat and my face is swollen with the strain of carrying. All the same I urge him to let us go on, for the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again, Kat?" "Must, Paul."<|quote|>"Then come."</|quote|>I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured l... | I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavi... | eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groa... | For one hungry, wretched German soldier come five of the enemy, fresh and fit. For one German army loaf there are fifty tins of canned beef over there. We are not beaten, for as soldiers we are better and more experienced; we are simply crushed and driven back by overwhelmingly superior forces. Behind us lie rainy week... | on all sides and the man burns. Bertinck has a chest wound. After a while a fragment smashes away his chin, and the same fragment has sufficient force to tear open Leer's hip. Leer groans as he supports himself on his arm, he bleeds quickly, no one can help him. Like an emptying tube, after a couple of minutes he colla... | trees of the twilight, the stars and the flowing waters, dreams and long sleep----. O Life, life, life! Summer of 1918--Never was so much silently suffered as in the moment when we depart once again for the front-line. Wild, tormenting rumours of an armistice and peace are in the air, they lay hold on our hearts and ma... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured leg and supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound d... | No speaker | Kat?" "Must, Paul." "Then come."<|quote|>I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured leg and supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly a... | "Shall we go on again, Kat?" "Must, Paul." "Then come."<|quote|>I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured leg and supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles acr... | much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I sweat and my face is swollen with the strain of carrying. All the same I urge him to let us go on, for the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again, Kat?" "Must, Paul." "Then come."<|quote|>I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured leg and supports him... | to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I ... | of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperat... | hungry, wretched German soldier come five of the enemy, fresh and fit. For one German army loaf there are fifty tins of canned beef over there. We are not beaten, for as soldiers we are better and more experienced; we are simply crushed and driven back by overwhelmingly superior forces. Behind us lie rainy weeks--grey ... | sides and the man burns. Bertinck has a chest wound. After a while a fragment smashes away his chin, and the same fragment has sufficient force to tear open Leer's hip. Leer groans as he supports himself on his arm, he bleeds quickly, no one can help him. Like an emptying tube, after a couple of minutes he collapses. W... | silently suffered as in the moment when we depart once again for the front-line. Wild, tormenting rumours of an armistice and peace are in the air, they lay hold on our hearts and make the return to the front harder than ever. Summer of 1918--Never was life in the line more bitter and more full of horror than in the ho... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Well, Kat," | Paul | bottle. We smoke a cigarette.<|quote|>"Well, Kat,"</|quote|>I say gloomily, "We are | some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette.<|quote|>"Well, Kat,"</|quote|>I say gloomily, "We are going to be separated at | the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a small shell hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette.<|quote|>"Well, Kat,"</|quote|>I say gloomily, "We are goin... | leg and supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves... | a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I sweat and my face is swollen with the strain ... | in so fast. The rifles are caked, the uniforms caked, everything is fluid and dissolved, the earth one dripping, soaked, oily mass in which lie the yellow pools with red spiral streams of blood and into which the dead, wounded, and survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow... | man here knows that we are losing the war. Not much is said about it, we are falling back, we will not be able to attack again after this big offensive, we have no more men and no more ammunition. Still the campaign goes on--the dying goes on---- Summer of 1918--Never has life in its niggardliness seemed to us so desir... | bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----" The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I say gloomily, | No speaker | smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat,"<|quote|>I say gloomily,</|quote|>"We are going to be | from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat,"<|quote|>I say gloomily,</|quote|>"We are going to be separated at last." He is | from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a small shell hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat,"<|quote|>I say gloomily,</|quote|>"We are going to be se... | supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properl... | post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I sweat and my face is swollen with the strain of carrying. All the ... | fast. The rifles are caked, the uniforms caked, everything is fluid and dissolved, the earth one dripping, soaked, oily mass in which lie the yellow pools with red spiral streams of blood and into which the dead, wounded, and survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the h... | knows that we are losing the war. Not much is said about it, we are falling back, we will not be able to attack again after this big offensive, we have no more men and no more ammunition. Still the campaign goes on--the dying goes on---- Summer of 1918--Never has life in its niggardliness seemed to us so desirable as n... | We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"We are going to be separated at last." | Paul | "Well, Kat," I say gloomily,<|quote|>"We are going to be separated at last."</|quote|>He is silent and looks | bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat," I say gloomily,<|quote|>"We are going to be separated at last."</|quote|>He is silent and looks at me. "Do you remember, | drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a small shell hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat," I say gloomily,<|quote|>"We are going to be separated at last."</|quote|... | a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; be... | neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I sweat and my face is swollen with the strain of carrying. All the same I urge ... | are caked, the uniforms caked, everything is fluid and dissolved, the earth one dripping, soaked, oily mass in which lie the yellow pools with red spiral streams of blood and into which the dead, wounded, and survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters ... | are losing the war. Not much is said about it, we are falling back, we will not be able to attack again after this big offensive, we have no more men and no more ammunition. Still the campaign goes on--the dying goes on---- Summer of 1918--Never has life in its niggardliness seemed to us so desirable as now;--the red p... | rifles are caked, the uniforms caked, everything is fluid and dissolved, the earth one dripping, soaked, oily mass in which lie the yellow pools with red spiral streams of blood and into which the dead, wounded, and survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of spl... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
He is silent and looks at me. | No speaker | to be separated at last."<|quote|>He is silent and looks at me.</|quote|>"Do you remember, Kat, how | say gloomily, "We are going to be separated at last."<|quote|>He is silent and looks at me.</|quote|>"Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And | properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a small shell hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat," I say gloomily, "We are going to be separated at last."<|quote|>He is silent and looks at me.</|quote|>"Do you remember, ... | carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger ... | take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I sweat and my face is swollen with the strain of carrying. All the same I urge him to let us go on, for the place is dange... | and dissolved, the earth one dripping, soaked, oily mass in which lie the yellow pools with red spiral streams of blood and into which the dead, wounded, and survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and... | about it, we are falling back, we will not be able to attack again after this big offensive, we have no more men and no more ammunition. Still the campaign goes on--the dying goes on---- Summer of 1918--Never has life in its niggardliness seemed to us so desirable as now;--the red poppies in the meadows round our bille... | we go out, the rain at once soaks through our overcoat and clothing;--and we remain wet all the time we are in the line. We never get dry. Those who still wear high boots tie sand bags round the top so that the mud does not pour in so fast. The rifles are caked, the uniforms caked, everything is fluid and dissolved, th... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." | Paul | silent and looks at me.<|quote|>"Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago."</|quote|>He nods. The anguish of | separated at last." He is silent and looks at me.<|quote|>"Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago."</|quote|>He nods. The anguish of solitude ... | take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a small shell hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat," I say gloomily, "We are going to be separated at last." He is silent and looks at me.<|quote|>"Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brou... | I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a small ... | start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I sweat and my face is swollen with the strain of carrying. All the same I urge him to let us go on, for the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again... | oily mass in which lie the yellow pools with red spiral streams of blood and into which the dead, wounded, and survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to ... | will not be able to attack again after this big offensive, we have no more men and no more ammunition. Still the campaign goes on--the dying goes on---- Summer of 1918--Never has life in its niggardliness seemed to us so desirable as now;--the red poppies in the meadows round our billets, the smooth beetles on the blad... | to single individuals, just as though they were hares. For every one German plane there come at least five English and American. For one hungry, wretched German soldier come five of the enemy, fresh and fit. For one German army loaf there are fifty tins of canned beef over there. We are not beaten, for as soldiers we a... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. | No speaker | is almost three years ago."<|quote|>He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left.</|quote|>"Kat, in any case we | I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago."<|quote|>He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left.</|quote|>"Kat, in any case we must see one another again, | last." He is silent and looks at me. "Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago."<|quote|>He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When... | ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a small shell hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat," I say gloomily, "We are going to be separated at last." He is silent and looks at me. "Do you remember, Kat, ho... | strain of carrying. All the same I urge him to let us go on, for the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again, Kat?" "Must, Paul." "Then come." I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured leg and supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound... | forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these la... | now;--the red poppies in the meadows round our billets, the smooth beetles on the blades of grass, the warm evenings in the cool, dim rooms, the black, mysterious trees of the twilight, the stars and the flowing waters, dreams and long sleep----. O Life, life, life! Summer of 1918--Never was so much silently suffered a... | of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while brin... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." | Paul | not have one friend left.<|quote|>"Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back."</|quote|>"Do you think that I | is taken away I will not have one friend left.<|quote|>"Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back."</|quote|>"Do you think that I will be marked A1 again | out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left.<|quote|>"Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace t... | hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat," I say gloomily, "We are going to be separated at last." He is silent and looks at me. "Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wound... | on again, Kat?" "Must, Paul." "Then come." I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured leg and supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly... | our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has go... | cool, dim rooms, the black, mysterious trees of the twilight, the stars and the flowing waters, dreams and long sleep----. O Life, life, life! Summer of 1918--Never was so much silently suffered as in the moment when we depart once again for the front-line. Wild, tormenting rumours of an armistice and peace are in the ... | himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" | Katczinsky | time before you come back."<|quote|>"Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?"</|quote|>he asks bitterly. "With rest | again, if it is peace time before you come back."<|quote|>"Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?"</|quote|>he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The | cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back."<|quote|>"Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?"</|... | say gloomily, "We are going to be separated at last." He is silent and looks at me. "Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The an... | himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from th... | heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who... | sleep----. O Life, life, life! Summer of 1918--Never was so much silently suffered as in the moment when we depart once again for the front-line. Wild, tormenting rumours of an armistice and peace are in the air, they lay hold on our hearts and make the return to the front harder than ever. Summer of 1918--Never was li... | holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go o... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
he asks bitterly. | No speaker | A1 again with this leg?"<|quote|>he asks bitterly.</|quote|>"With rest it will get | that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?"<|quote|>he asks bitterly.</|quote|>"With rest it will get better. The joint is all | of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?"<|quote|>he asks bitterly.</|quote|>"With rest it will get better. The joint is all... | and looks at me. "Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will no... | gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie... | oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----" The ... | as in the moment when we depart once again for the front-line. Wild, tormenting rumours of an armistice and peace are in the air, they lay hold on our hearts and make the return to the front harder than ever. Summer of 1918--Never was life in the line more bitter and more full of horror than in the hours of the bombard... | rainy weeks--grey sky, grey fluid earth, grey dying. If we go out, the rain at once soaks through our overcoat and clothing;--and we remain wet all the time we are in the line. We never get dry. Those who still wear high boots tie sand bags round the top so that the mud does not pour in so fast. The rifles are caked, t... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." | Paul | this leg?" he asks bitterly.<|quote|>"With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit."</|quote|>"Give me another cigarette," he | be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly.<|quote|>"With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit."</|quote|>"Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do | up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly.<|quote|>"With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit.... | me. "Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one fr... | and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a sm... | one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----" The wound begins to ble... | moment when we depart once again for the front-line. Wild, tormenting rumours of an armistice and peace are in the air, they lay hold on our hearts and make the return to the front harder than ever. Summer of 1918--Never was life in the line more bitter and more full of horror than in the hours of the bombardment, when... | bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----" The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Give me another cigarette," | Katczinsky | It may limp a bit."<|quote|>"Give me another cigarette,"</|quote|>he says. "Perhaps we could | The joint is all right. It may limp a bit."<|quote|>"Give me another cigarette,"</|quote|>he says. "Perhaps we could do something together later on, | in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit."<|quote|>"Give me another cigarette,"</|quote|>he says. "Perhaps we could do so... | of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before y... | more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a small shell hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We ... | bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----" The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I... | peace are in the air, they lay hold on our hearts and make the return to the front harder than ever. Summer of 1918--Never was life in the line more bitter and more full of horror than in the hours of the bombardment, when the blanched faces lie in the dirt, and the hands clutch at the one thought: No! No! Not now! Not... | of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while brin... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
he says. | No speaker | bit." "Give me another cigarette,"<|quote|>he says.</|quote|>"Perhaps we could do something | right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette,"<|quote|>he says.</|quote|>"Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat." I | must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette,"<|quote|>he says.</|quote|>"Perhaps we could do something togethe... | I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do y... | shell whistles across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a small shell hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well... | his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----" The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a st... | air, they lay hold on our hearts and make the return to the front harder than ever. Summer of 1918--Never was life in the line more bitter and more full of horror than in the hours of the bombardment, when the blanched faces lie in the dirt, and the hands clutch at the one thought: No! No! Not now! Not now at the last ... | into which the dead, wounded, and survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain.... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat." | Paul | me another cigarette," he says.<|quote|>"Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat."</|quote|>I am very miserable, it | may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says.<|quote|>"Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat."</|quote|>I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat--Kat my | one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says.<|quote|>"Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat."<... | still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you thi... | across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a small shell hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat," I say g... | seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----" The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-b... | lay hold on our hearts and make the return to the front harder than ever. Summer of 1918--Never was life in the line more bitter and more full of horror than in the hours of the bombardment, when the blanched faces lie in the dirt, and the hands clutch at the one thought: No! No! Not now! Not now at the last moment! Su... | start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I sweat and my face is swollen with the strain of carrying. All the same I urge him to let us go on, for the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat--Kat my friend, Kat with the drooping shoulders and the poor, thin moustache, Kat, whom I know as I know no other man, Kat with whom I have shared these years--it is impossible that perhaps I shall not see Kat again. | No speaker | something together later on, Kat."<|quote|>I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat--Kat my friend, Kat with the drooping shoulders and the poor, thin moustache, Kat, whom I know as I know no other man, Kat with whom I have shared these years--it is impossible that perhaps I shall not see Kat again.</|quote|>"In ... | says. "Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat."<|quote|>I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat--Kat my friend, Kat with the drooping shoulders and the poor, thin moustache, Kat, whom I know as I know no other man, Kat with whom I have shared these years--it is impossible that perhaps I shall not s... | you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat."<|quote|>I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat... | first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this le... | the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a small shell hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat," I say gloomily, "We are going to be separated... | and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----" The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is... | to the front harder than ever. Summer of 1918--Never was life in the line more bitter and more full of horror than in the hours of the bombardment, when the blanched faces lie in the dirt, and the hands clutch at the one thought: No! No! Not now! Not now at the last moment! Summer of 1918--Breath of hope that sweeps ov... | fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opene... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"In any case give me your address at home, Kat. And here is mine, I will write it down for you." | Paul | shall not see Kat again.<|quote|>"In any case give me your address at home, Kat. And here is mine, I will write it down for you."</|quote|>I write his address in | is impossible that perhaps I shall not see Kat again.<|quote|>"In any case give me your address at home, Kat. And here is mine, I will write it down for you."</|quote|>I write his address in my pocket book. How forlorn | Kat." I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat--Kat my friend, Kat with the drooping shoulders and the poor, thin moustache, Kat, whom I know as I know no other man, Kat with whom I have shared these years--it is impossible that perhaps I shall not see Kat again.<|quote|>"In any case give me your address at home,... | before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat." I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat-... | cigarette. "Well, Kat," I say gloomily, "We are going to be separated at last." He is silent and looks at me. "Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three ye... | of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I sweat and my face is swollen with the stra... | now at the last moment! Summer of 1918--Breath of hope that sweeps over the scorched fields, raging fever of impatience, of disappointment, of the most agonizing terror of death, insensate question: Why? Why do they not make an end? And why do these rumours of an end fly about? * * There are so many airmen here, and th... | the same I urge him to let us go on, for the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again, Kat?" "Must, Paul." "Then come." I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured leg and supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I write his address in my pocket book. How forlorn I am already, though he still sits here beside me. Couldn't I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow. | No speaker | write it down for you."<|quote|>I write his address in my pocket book. How forlorn I am already, though he still sits here beside me. Couldn't I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow.</|quote|>"Let us go on," he | here is mine, I will write it down for you."<|quote|>I write his address in my pocket book. How forlorn I am already, though he still sits here beside me. Couldn't I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow.</|quote|>"Let us go on," he stammers... | moustache, Kat, whom I know as I know no other man, Kat with whom I have shared these years--it is impossible that perhaps I shall not see Kat again. "In any case give me your address at home, Kat. And here is mine, I will write it down for you."<|quote|>I write his address in my pocket book. How forlorn I am already... | rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat." I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat--Kat my friend, Kat with the drooping shoulders and the poor, thin moustache, Kat, whom I know as I know no ot... | "Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend... | start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak much. I have opened the collar of my tunic and breathe heavily, I sweat and my face is swollen with the strain of carrying. All the same I urge him to let us go on, for the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again... | disappointment, of the most agonizing terror of death, insensate question: Why? Why do they not make an end? And why do these rumours of an end fly about? * * There are so many airmen here, and they are so sure of themselves that they give chase to single individuals, just as though they were hares. For every one Germa... | let us go on, for the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again, Kat?" "Must, Paul." "Then come." I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured leg and supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more diff... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Let us go on," | Katczinsky | and turns green and yellow.<|quote|>"Let us go on,"</|quote|>he stammers. I jump up, | with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow.<|quote|>"Let us go on,"</|quote|>he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I | write it down for you." I write his address in my pocket book. How forlorn I am already, though he still sits here beside me. Couldn't I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow.<|quote|>"Let us go on,"</|quote|>he stammers. I jump up, eager to... | shoulders and the poor, thin moustache, Kat, whom I know as I know no other man, Kat with whom I have shared these years--it is impossible that perhaps I shall not see Kat again. "In any case give me your address at home, Kat. And here is mine, I will write it down for you." I write his address in my pocket book. How... | anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. ... | All the same I urge him to let us go on, for the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again, Kat?" "Must, Paul." "Then come." I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured leg and supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my a... | give chase to single individuals, just as though they were hares. For every one German plane there come at least five English and American. For one hungry, wretched German soldier come five of the enemy, fresh and fit. For one German army loaf there are fifty tins of canned beef over there. We are not beaten, for as so... | two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----" The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stre... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I take him up and start off at a run, a slow steady pace, so as not to jolt his leg too much. My throat is parched; everything dances red and black before my eyes, I stagger on doggedly and pitilessly and at last reach the dressing station. There I drop down on my knees, bu... | No speaker | yellow. "Let us go on,"<|quote|>he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I take him up and start off at a run, a slow steady pace, so as not to jolt his leg too much. My throat is parched; everything dances red and black before my eyes, I stagger on doggedly and pitilessly and at last reach the dressing station. T... | gurgles and turns green and yellow. "Let us go on,"<|quote|>he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I take him up and start off at a run, a slow steady pace, so as not to jolt his leg too much. My throat is parched; everything dances red and black before my eyes, I stagger on doggedly and pitilessly and at last re... | you." I write his address in my pocket book. How forlorn I am already, though he still sits here beside me. Couldn't I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow. "Let us go on,"<|quote|>he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I take him up a... | thin moustache, Kat, whom I know as I know no other man, Kat with whom I have shared these years--it is impossible that perhaps I shall not see Kat again. "In any case give me your address at home, Kat. And here is mine, I will write it down for you." I write his address in my pocket book. How forlorn I am already, t... | up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give ... | urge him to let us go on, for the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again, Kat?" "Must, Paul." "Then come." I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured leg and supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going ... | individuals, just as though they were hares. For every one German plane there come at least five English and American. For one hungry, wretched German soldier come five of the enemy, fresh and fit. For one German army loaf there are fifty tins of canned beef over there. We are not beaten, for as soldiers we are better ... | begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off to the dressing station with him. Twice we rest. He suffers acutely on the way. We do not speak mu... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"You might have spared yourself that," | An orderly | that falls on my ears.<|quote|>"You might have spared yourself that,"</|quote|>says an orderly. I look | out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears.<|quote|>"You might have spared yourself that,"</|quote|>says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He | up again. My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in finding my water bottle, to take a pull. My lips tremble as I try to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears.<|quote|>"You might have spared yourself that,"</|quote|>says an orderly. I lo... | dances red and black before my eyes, I stagger on doggedly and pitilessly and at last reach the dressing station. There I drop down on my knees, but have still enough strength to fall on to the side where Kat's sound leg is. After a few minutes I straighten myself up again. My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble ... | at home, Kat. And here is mine, I will write it down for you." I write his address in my pocket book. How forlorn I am already, though he still sits here beside me. Couldn't I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow. "Let us go on," he stammer... | are going to be separated at last." He is silent and looks at me. "Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude ... | caked, the uniforms caked, everything is fluid and dissolved, the earth one dripping, soaked, oily mass in which lie the yellow pools with red spiral streams of blood and into which the dead, wounded, and survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whip... | in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do something together ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat. | No speaker | might have spared yourself that,"<|quote|>says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat.</|quote|>"He is stone dead." I | falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that,"<|quote|>says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat.</|quote|>"He is stone dead." I do not understand him. "He | hands tremble. I have trouble in finding my water bottle, to take a pull. My lips tremble as I try to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that,"<|quote|>says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. ... | eyes, I stagger on doggedly and pitilessly and at last reach the dressing station. There I drop down on my knees, but have still enough strength to fall on to the side where Kat's sound leg is. After a few minutes I straighten myself up again. My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in finding my water bottle, to ... | mine, I will write it down for you." I write his address in my pocket book. How forlorn I am already, though he still sits here beside me. Couldn't I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow. "Let us go on," he stammers. I jump up, eager to he... | last." He is silent and looks at me. "Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is ... | fluid and dissolved, the earth one dripping, soaked, oily mass in which lie the yellow pools with red spiral streams of blood and into which the dead, wounded, and survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounde... | as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot shelter ourselves properly from the explosions; before we can take cover the danger is all over. We lie down in a small shell hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat," I say gloomily, "We are going t... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"He is stone dead." | An orderly | comprehending. He points to Kat.<|quote|>"He is stone dead."</|quote|>I do not understand him. | I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat.<|quote|>"He is stone dead."</|quote|>I do not understand him. "He has been hit in | pull. My lips tremble as I try to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that," says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat.<|quote|>"He is stone dead."</|quote|>I do not understand h... | station. There I drop down on my knees, but have still enough strength to fall on to the side where Kat's sound leg is. After a few minutes I straighten myself up again. My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in finding my water bottle, to take a pull. My lips tremble as I try to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved.... | my pocket book. How forlorn I am already, though he still sits here beside me. Couldn't I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow. "Let us go on," he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I take him up and start off at a run, a slow steady pac... | we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we mu... | the yellow pools with red spiral streams of blood and into which the dead, wounded, and survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands ... | on the uninjured leg and supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump and I take the knee of the sound leg also under my arm. The going is more difficult. Often a shell whistles across. I go as quickly as I can, for the blood from Kat's wound drips to the ground. We cannot ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I do not understand him. | No speaker | Kat. "He is stone dead."<|quote|>I do not understand him.</|quote|>"He has been hit in | without comprehending. He points to Kat. "He is stone dead."<|quote|>I do not understand him.</|quote|>"He has been hit in the shin," I say. The | as I try to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that," says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat. "He is stone dead."<|quote|>I do not understand him.</|quote|>"He has been hit i... | down on my knees, but have still enough strength to fall on to the side where Kat's sound leg is. After a few minutes I straighten myself up again. My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in finding my water bottle, to take a pull. My lips tremble as I try to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin... | forlorn I am already, though he still sits here beside me. Couldn't I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow. "Let us go on," he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I take him up and start off at a run, a slow steady pace, so as not to jolt... | And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, i... | red spiral streams of blood and into which the dead, wounded, and survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies ... | and my face is swollen with the strain of carrying. All the same I urge him to let us go on, for the place is dangerous. "Shall we go on again, Kat?" "Must, Paul." "Then come." I raise him up, he stands on the uninjured leg and supports himself against a tree. I take up the wounded leg carefully, then he gives a jump ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"He has been hit in the shin," | Paul | I do not understand him.<|quote|>"He has been hit in the shin,"</|quote|>I say. The orderly stands | Kat. "He is stone dead." I do not understand him.<|quote|>"He has been hit in the shin,"</|quote|>I say. The orderly stands still. "That as well." I | But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that," says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat. "He is stone dead." I do not understand him.<|quote|>"He has been hit in the shin,"</|quote|>I say.... | have still enough strength to fall on to the side where Kat's sound leg is. After a few minutes I straighten myself up again. My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in finding my water bottle, to take a pull. My lips tremble as I try to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin to sort out the confu... | he still sits here beside me. Couldn't I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow. "Let us go on," he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I take him up and start off at a run, a slow steady pace, so as not to jolt his leg too much. My throat... | out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time befo... | and into which the dead, wounded, and survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of r... | shall not see Kat again. "In any case give me your address at home, Kat. And here is mine, I will write it down for you." I write his address in my pocket book. How forlorn I am already, though he still sits here beside me. Couldn't I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gu... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I say. The orderly stands still. | No speaker | been hit in the shin,"<|quote|>I say. The orderly stands still.</|quote|>"That as well." I turn | not understand him. "He has been hit in the shin,"<|quote|>I say. The orderly stands still.</|quote|>"That as well." I turn round. My eyes are still | while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that," says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat. "He is stone dead." I do not understand him. "He has been hit in the shin,"<|quote|>I say. The orderly stands still.</|quote|>"That a... | to the side where Kat's sound leg is. After a few minutes I straighten myself up again. My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in finding my water bottle, to take a pull. My lips tremble as I try to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. ... | I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow. "Let us go on," he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I take him up and start off at a run, a slow steady pace, so as not to jolt his leg too much. My throat is parched; everything dances red and ... | still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you thi... | survivors slowly sink down. The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still l... | forlorn I am already, though he still sits here beside me. Couldn't I shoot myself quickly in the foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow. "Let us go on," he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I take him up and start off at a run, a slow steady pace, so as not to jolt... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"That as well." | An orderly | say. The orderly stands still.<|quote|>"That as well."</|quote|>I turn round. My eyes | hit in the shin," I say. The orderly stands still.<|quote|>"That as well."</|quote|>I turn round. My eyes are still dulled, the sweat | the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that," says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat. "He is stone dead." I do not understand him. "He has been hit in the shin," I say. The orderly stands still.<|quote|>"That as well."</|quote|>I turn round. My... | leg is. After a few minutes I straighten myself up again. My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in finding my water bottle, to take a pull. My lips tremble as I try to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yoursel... | foot so as to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow. "Let us go on," he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I take him up and start off at a run, a slow steady pace, so as not to jolt his leg too much. My throat is parched; everything dances red and black before my eyes, I stagge... | wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 ag... | lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into ... | before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat." I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat-... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I turn round. My eyes are still dulled, the sweat breaks out on me again, it runs over my eyelids. I wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still. | No speaker | stands still. "That as well."<|quote|>I turn round. My eyes are still dulled, the sweat breaks out on me again, it runs over my eyelids. I wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still.</|quote|>"Fainted," I say quickly. The | shin," I say. The orderly stands still. "That as well."<|quote|>I turn round. My eyes are still dulled, the sweat breaks out on me again, it runs over my eyelids. I wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still.</|quote|>"Fainted," I say quickly. The orderly whistles softly. "I know | voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that," says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat. "He is stone dead." I do not understand him. "He has been hit in the shin," I say. The orderly stands still. "That as well."<|quote|>I turn round. My eyes are still dulled, th... | a few minutes I straighten myself up again. My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in finding my water bottle, to take a pull. My lips tremble as I try to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that," says ... | to be able to go with him. Suddenly Kat gurgles and turns green and yellow. "Let us go on," he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I take him up and start off at a run, a slow steady pace, so as not to jolt his leg too much. My throat is parched; everything dances red and black before my eyes, I stagger on dogged... | first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this le... | of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans wearily to the silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes... | know as I know no other man, Kat with whom I have shared these years--it is impossible that perhaps I shall not see Kat again. "In any case give me your address at home, Kat. And here is mine, I will write it down for you." I write his address in my pocket book. How forlorn I am already, though he still sits here bes... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Fainted," | Paul | at Kat. He lies still.<|quote|>"Fainted,"</|quote|>I say quickly. The orderly | wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still.<|quote|>"Fainted,"</|quote|>I say quickly. The orderly whistles softly. "I know better | not understand him. "He has been hit in the shin," I say. The orderly stands still. "That as well." I turn round. My eyes are still dulled, the sweat breaks out on me again, it runs over my eyelids. I wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still.<|quote|>"Fainted,"</|quote|>I say quickly. The orderly whistles softl... | try to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that," says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat. "He is stone dead." I do not understand him. "He has been hit in the shin," I say. T... | up and start off at a run, a slow steady pace, so as not to jolt his leg too much. My throat is parched; everything dances red and black before my eyes, I stagger on doggedly and pitilessly and at last reach the dressing station. There I drop down on my knees, but have still enough strength to fall on to the side where... | one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could... | hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be s... | are going to be separated at last." He is silent and looks at me. "Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still a young recruit and was wounded for the first time? I cried then. Kat, that is almost three years ago." He nods. The anguish of solitude ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I say quickly. The orderly whistles softly. | No speaker | Kat. He lies still. "Fainted,"<|quote|>I say quickly. The orderly whistles softly.</|quote|>"I know better than that. | it away and peer at Kat. He lies still. "Fainted,"<|quote|>I say quickly. The orderly whistles softly.</|quote|>"I know better than that. He is dead. I'll lay | understand him. "He has been hit in the shin," I say. The orderly stands still. "That as well." I turn round. My eyes are still dulled, the sweat breaks out on me again, it runs over my eyelids. I wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still. "Fainted,"<|quote|>I say quickly. The orderly whistles softly.</|quote|>"... | to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that," says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat. "He is stone dead." I do not understand him. "He has been hit in the shin," I say. The o... | and start off at a run, a slow steady pace, so as not to jolt his leg too much. My throat is parched; everything dances red and black before my eyes, I stagger on doggedly and pitilessly and at last reach the dressing station. There I drop down on my knees, but have still enough strength to fall on to the side where Ka... | friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do ... | are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed... | I will not have one friend left. "Kat, in any case we must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"I know better than that. He is dead. I'll lay any money on that." | An orderly | quickly. The orderly whistles softly.<|quote|>"I know better than that. He is dead. I'll lay any money on that."</|quote|>I shake my head: "Not | lies still. "Fainted," I say quickly. The orderly whistles softly.<|quote|>"I know better than that. He is dead. I'll lay any money on that."</|quote|>I shake my head: "Not possible. Only ten minutes ago | the shin," I say. The orderly stands still. "That as well." I turn round. My eyes are still dulled, the sweat breaks out on me again, it runs over my eyelids. I wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still. "Fainted," I say quickly. The orderly whistles softly.<|quote|>"I know better than that. He is dead. I'll la... | After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that," says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat. "He is stone dead." I do not understand him. "He has been hit in the shin," I say. The orderly stands still. "That as well." ... | slow steady pace, so as not to jolt his leg too much. My throat is parched; everything dances red and black before my eyes, I stagger on doggedly and pitilessly and at last reach the dressing station. There I drop down on my knees, but have still enough strength to fall on to the side where Kat's sound leg is. After a ... | must see one another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat."... | eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live. Then the heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groa... | We lie down in a small shell hole to rest. I give Kat some tea from my water bottle. We smoke a cigarette. "Well, Kat," I say gloomily, "We are going to be separated at last." He is silent and looks at me. "Do you remember, Kat, how we commandeered the goose? And how you brought me out of the barrage when I was still ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
I shake my head: | No speaker | lay any money on that."<|quote|>I shake my head:</|quote|>"Not possible. Only ten minutes | that. He is dead. I'll lay any money on that."<|quote|>I shake my head:</|quote|>"Not possible. Only ten minutes ago I was talking to | My eyes are still dulled, the sweat breaks out on me again, it runs over my eyelids. I wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still. "Fainted," I say quickly. The orderly whistles softly. "I know better than that. He is dead. I'll lay any money on that."<|quote|>I shake my head:</|quote|>"Not possible. Only ten minut... | on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that," says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat. "He is stone dead." I do not understand him. "He has been hit in the shin," I say. The orderly stands still. "That as well." I turn round. My eyes are still dulled, the sweat breaks out on me a... | is parched; everything dances red and black before my eyes, I stagger on doggedly and pitilessly and at last reach the dressing station. There I drop down on my knees, but have still enough strength to fall on to the side where Kat's sound leg is. After a few minutes I straighten myself up again. My legs and my hands t... | "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat." I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat--Kat my friend, Kat wit... | heat sinks heavily into our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who... | "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat." I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat--Kat my friend, Kat wit... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"Not possible. Only ten minutes ago I was talking to him. He has fainted." | Paul | that." I shake my head:<|quote|>"Not possible. Only ten minutes ago I was talking to him. He has fainted."</|quote|>Kat's hands are warm, I | I'll lay any money on that." I shake my head:<|quote|>"Not possible. Only ten minutes ago I was talking to him. He has fainted."</|quote|>Kat's hands are warm, I pass my arm under his | dulled, the sweat breaks out on me again, it runs over my eyelids. I wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still. "Fainted," I say quickly. The orderly whistles softly. "I know better than that. He is dead. I'll lay any money on that." I shake my head:<|quote|>"Not possible. Only ten minutes ago I was talking to him... | might have spared yourself that," says an orderly. I look at him without comprehending. He points to Kat. "He is stone dead." I do not understand him. "He has been hit in the shin," I say. The orderly stands still. "That as well." I turn round. My eyes are still dulled, the sweat breaks out on me again, it runs ove... | red and black before my eyes, I stagger on doggedly and pitilessly and at last reach the dressing station. There I drop down on my knees, but have still enough strength to fall on to the side where Kat's sound leg is. After a few minutes I straighten myself up again. My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in find... | I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat." I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat--Kat my friend, Kat with the drooping shou... | our shell holes like a jelly fish, moist and oppressive, and on one of these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess... | on," he stammers. I jump up, eager to help him, I take him up and start off at a run, a slow steady pace, so as not to jolt his leg too much. My throat is parched; everything dances red and black before my eyes, I stagger on doggedly and pitilessly and at last reach the dressing station. There I drop down on my knee... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
Kat's hands are warm, I pass my arm under his shoulders in order to rub his temples with some tea. I feel my fingers become moist. As I draw them away from behind his head, they are bloody. | No speaker | to him. He has fainted."<|quote|>Kat's hands are warm, I pass my arm under his shoulders in order to rub his temples with some tea. I feel my fingers become moist. As I draw them away from behind his head, they are bloody.</|quote|>"You see----" The orderly whistles | minutes ago I was talking to him. He has fainted."<|quote|>Kat's hands are warm, I pass my arm under his shoulders in order to rub his temples with some tea. I feel my fingers become moist. As I draw them away from behind his head, they are bloody.</|quote|>"You see----" The orderly whistles once more through his tee... | wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still. "Fainted," I say quickly. The orderly whistles softly. "I know better than that. He is dead. I'll lay any money on that." I shake my head: "Not possible. Only ten minutes ago I was talking to him. He has fainted."<|quote|>Kat's hands are warm, I pass my arm under his sho... | He points to Kat. "He is stone dead." I do not understand him. "He has been hit in the shin," I say. The orderly stands still. "That as well." I turn round. My eyes are still dulled, the sweat breaks out on me again, it runs over my eyelids. I wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still. "Fainted," I say quickly. ... | last reach the dressing station. There I drop down on my knees, but have still enough strength to fall on to the side where Kat's sound leg is. After a few minutes I straighten myself up again. My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in finding my water bottle, to take a pull. My lips tremble as I try to drink. Bu... | it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat." I am very miserable, it is impossible that Kat--Kat my friend, Kat with the drooping shoulders and the poor, thin moustache, Kat, whom I know as I know no other m... | these late summer days, while bringing food, Kat falls. We two are alone. I bind up his wound; his shin seems to be smashed. It has got the bone, and Kat groans desperately: "At last--just at the last----" I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----" The wound begins to bleed fast... | another again, if it is peace time before you come back." "Do you think that I will be marked A1 again with this leg?" he asks bitterly. "With rest it will get better. The joint is all right. It may limp a bit." "Give me another cigarette," he says. "Perhaps we could do something together later on, Kat." I am very mi... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
"You see----" | An orderly | his head, they are bloody.<|quote|>"You see----"</|quote|>The orderly whistles once more | draw them away from behind his head, they are bloody.<|quote|>"You see----"</|quote|>The orderly whistles once more through his teeth. On the | Only ten minutes ago I was talking to him. He has fainted." Kat's hands are warm, I pass my arm under his shoulders in order to rub his temples with some tea. I feel my fingers become moist. As I draw them away from behind his head, they are bloody.<|quote|>"You see----"</|quote|>The orderly whistles once more throug... | sweat breaks out on me again, it runs over my eyelids. I wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still. "Fainted," I say quickly. The orderly whistles softly. "I know better than that. He is dead. I'll lay any money on that." I shake my head: "Not possible. Only ten minutes ago I was talking to him. He has fainted." ... | legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in finding my water bottle, to take a pull. My lips tremble as I try to drink. But I smile--Kat is saved. After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears. "You might have spared yourself that," says an orderly. I look at him without comprehendin... | my friend, Kat with the drooping shoulders and the poor, thin moustache, Kat, whom I know as I know no other man, Kat with whom I have shared these years--it is impossible that perhaps I shall not see Kat again. "In any case give me your address at home, Kat. And here is mine, I will write it down for you." I write hi... | I comfort him. "Who knows how long the mess will go on yet! Now you are saved----" The wound begins to bleed fast. Kat cannot be left by himself while I try to find a stretcher. Anyway, I don't know of a stretcher-bearer's post in the neighbourhood. Kat is not very heavy; so I take him up on my back and start off t... | and black before my eyes, I stagger on doggedly and pitilessly and at last reach the dressing station. There I drop down on my knees, but have still enough strength to fall on to the side where Kat's sound leg is. After a few minutes I straighten myself up again. My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in finding ... | All Quiet on the Western Front |
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