The Road Back Read Online Free PDF

like a row of sotted hens. This is clean beyond our comprehension.
    "It says, he wanted to avoid a civil war," says Weil.
    "What rot!" snaps Kosole. "Supposing we had said that a while back, eh? Well I'll be damned! So that's what we've been holding out here for?"
    "Jupp," says Bethke, shaking his head, "just give me a dig in the ribs, will you, and see if I'm still here." Jupp establishes the fact. "Then it must be so, no doubt," continues Bethke. "All the same I don't quite catch on to the idea. Why, if one of us had done that, they would have stood him up against the wall!"
    "Best not to think of Wessling and Schröder now," mutters Kosole, clenching his fists, "else I'll run amok. Poor little Schröder, a mere kid, and there he lay all bashed to a jelly—and the man he died for just cuts and runs!—Dirty scum!" Suddenly he sends his heels crashing against a beer cask.
    Willy Homeyer makes a gesture of dismissal. "Let's talk about something else," he then suggests. "For my part I've done with the fellow, absolutely."
    Weil starts to explain how Soldiers' Councils have already been set up in a number of the regiments. The officers are not the leaders any more. Many of them have even had their shoulder-straps ripped off.
    He would have us set up a Soldiers' Council too. But he does not get much encouragement. We don't want to set up anything any more. All we want is to get home. And we can do that quite well as we are.
    In the end we elect three representatives: Adolf Bethke, Weil and Ludwig Breyer.
    Weil wants Ludwig to take down his shoulder-straps.
    "Here—" says Ludwig wearily, lightly smoothing his forehead. But Bethke shoves Weil back. "Ludwig belongs to us," he says curtly.
    Breyer came to our company as a volunteer and was afterwards given a commission. It is not only with Trosske, Homeyer, Broger and me that he talks familiarly—that goes without saying, of course, we were former schoolfellows—but, when no other officer is about, he is the same with all his old mates in the ranks. And his credit stands high in consequence.
    "Well, Heel then," insists Weil.
    That is easier to understand. Weil has often been ridiculed by Heel—what wonder than if he now means to savour his triumph. That, we feel, is no business of ours. Heel was rather harsh, it is true, but he did go for them; he was always up and coming where there was trouble. And a soldier gives credit for that.
    "Well, you can ask him, of course," says Bethke.
    "But take a few bandages along with you," Tjaden calls after him.
    The event takes a different turn, however. Heel issues from the office just as Weil is about to enter. He has some message-forms in his hand. He points to them. "You're right," he says to Max.
    Weil begins to speak. When he comes to the question of the shoulder-straps, Heel makes a swift movement. For an instant we imagine there is going to be a stand-up fight, but to our astonishment the company commander merely says abruptly: "Quite so!" Then turning to Ludwig he lays a hand on his shoulder. "You don't understand, perhaps, Breyer? A private's tunic, that's the idea. The other is finished with now."
    No one utters a word. This is not the Heel that we know —the man who would go on patrol at night armed with nothing but a walking-stick, whom everyone regarded as bullet-proof. This man is hard put to it just to stand up and speak.
    This evening as I lay already asleep, I was roused by sounds of whispering. "You're pulling my leg," I hear Kosole say. "Fact," persists Willy. "You come and see."
    They get up hastily and go out into the yard. I follow them. There is a light in the office, so that is is possible to see inside. Heel is seated at the table. His blue officer's jacket, the litejka , is lying before him. The shoulder-straps have gone. He is wearing a private's tunic. His head is in his hands, and—but no, that cannot be—I go a step nearer—Heel, Heel is crying.
    "Can you beat it!" whispers Tjaden.
    "Hop it," says Bethke