Himmelstoss follows him, thirsting for vengeance. His boots gleam in the sun.
We get up.
“Where’s Tjaden?” the sergeant puffs.
No one knows, of course. Himmelstoss glowers at us wrathfully. “You know very well. You won’t say, that’s the fact of the matter. Out with it!”
Fatty looks round enquiringly; but Tjaden is not to be seen. He tries another way.
“Tjaden will report at the Orderly Room in ten minutes.”
Then he steams off with Himmelstoss in his wake.
“I have a feeling that next time we go up wiring I’ll be letting a bundle of wire fall on Himmelstoss’s leg,” hints Kropp.
“We’ll have quite a lot of jokes with him,” laughs Müller.
That is our sole ambition: to knock the conceit out of a postman.
I go into the hut and put Tjaden wise. He disappears.
Then we change our possy and lie down again to play cards. We know how to do that: to play cards, to swear, and to fight. Not much for twenty years;—and yet too much for twenty years.
Half an hour later Himmelstoss is back again. Nobody pays any attention to him. He asks for Tjaden. We shrug our shoulders.
“Then you’d better find him,” he persists. “Haven’t you been to look for him?”
Kropp lies back on the grass and says: “Have you ever been out here before?”
“That’s none of your business,” retorts Himmelstoss. “I expect an answer.”
“Very good,” says Kropp, getting up. “See up there where those little white clouds are. Those are antiaircraft. We were over there yesterday. Five dead and eight wounded. And that’s a mere nothing. Next time, when you go up with us, before they die the fellows will come up to you, click their heels, and ask stiffly: ‘Please may I go? Please may I hop it? We’ve been waiting here a long time for someone like you.’ ”
He sits down again and Himmelstoss disappears like a comet.
“Three days C.B.,” conjectures Kat.
“Next time I’ll let fly,” I say to Albert.
But that is the end. The case comes up for trial in the evening. In the Orderly Room sits our Lieutenant, Bertink, and calls us in one after another.
I have to appear as a witness and explain the reason of Tjaden’s insubordination.
The story of the bed-wetting makes an impression. Himmelstoss is recalled and I repeat my statement.
“Is that right?” Bertink asks Himmelstoss.
He tries to evade the question, but in the end has to confess, for Kropp tells the same story.
“Why didn’t someone report the matter, then?” asks Bertink.
We are silent: he must know himself how much use it is in reporting such things. It isn’t usual to make complaints in the army. He understands it all right though, and lectures Himmelstoss, making it plain to him that the front isn’t a parade-ground. Then comes Tjaden’s turn, he gets a long sermon and three days’ open arrest. Bertink gives Kropp a wink and one day’s open arrest. “It can’t be helped,” he says to him regretfully. He is a decent fellow.
Open arrest is quite pleasant. The clink was once a fowl-house; there we can visit the prisoners, we know how to manage it. Close arrest would have meant the cellar.
They used to tie us to a tree, but that is forbidden now. In many ways we are treated quite like men.
An hour later after Tjaden and Kropp are settled in behind their wire-netting we make our way into them. Tjaden greets us crowing. Then we play skat far into the night. Tjaden wins of course, the lucky wretch.
When we break it up Kat says to me: “What do you say to some roast goose?”
“Not bad,” I agree.
We climb up on a munition-wagon. The ride costs us two cigarettes. Kat has marked the spot exactly. The shed belongs to a regimental headquarters. I agree to get the goose and receive my instructions. The outhouse is behind the wall and the door shuts with just a peg.
Kat hoists me up. I rest my foot in his hands and climb over the wall. Kat keeps watch below.
I wait a few moments to accustom my eyes to the darkness. Then I recognize the shed. Softly I steal across, lift the peg, pull it out and open the door.
I distinguish two white patches. Two geese, that’s bad: if I grab one the other will cackle. Well, both of them—if I’m quick, it can be done.
I make a jump. I catch hold of one and the next instant the second. Like a madman I bash their heads against the wall to stun them. But I haven’t quite enough weight. The beasts cackle and strike out with their feet and wings. I fight desperately, but Lord! what a kick a goose has! They struggle and I stagger about. In the dark these white patches are terrifying. My arms have grown wings and I’m almost afraid of going up into the sky, as though I held a couple of captive balloons in my fists.
Then the row begins; one of them gets his breath and goes off like an alarmclock. Before I can do anything, something comes in from outside; I feel a blow, lie outstretched on the floor, and hear awful growls. A dog. I steal a glance to the side, he makes a snap at my throat. I lie still and tuck my chin into my collar.
It’s a bull dog. After an eternity he withdraws his head and sits down beside me. But if I make the least movement he growls. I consider. The only thing to do is to get hold of my small revolver, and that too before anyone arrives. Inch by inch I move my hand toward it.
I have the feeling that it lasts an hour. The slightest movement and then an awful growl; I lie still, then try again. When at last I have the revolver my hand starts to tremble. I press it against the ground and say over to myself: Jerk the revolver up, fire before he has a chance to grab, and then jump
