9

At the end of my trip back to the front, I’ve discovered that no one knows where my regiment is, and that I must find it myself. As I search, I ask about Kat and Albert, but no one has heard anything. I’m forced to camp by myself for a few nights as I look for my comrades. He finally finds some good information on them, but is told to wait until they return from the front in two more days to rejoin them. When the men return, he finds Kat, Albert, Tjaden, and Muller. I feel uneasy around them, but don’t know why. I give them shares of my mother's potato-cakes and jam. Kat compliments mother's cakes, and for some reason I felt close to crying. He is sad, but he feels that for the first time since before his leave, he is where he belongs. Rumors go around that they are being transferred to the Russian front. Inspections increase, and then they find out that the Kaiser is coming to review his troops. Much fuss goes on for the next week, until the important day that their leader visits them. On the big day, I was disappointed. The Kaiser seems less impressive than his pictures. They talk afterwards and Kat makes fun of Tjaden for being so impressed by the Kaiser.
The men are sent out on patrol to scout out the enemy position. In front of them are "black troops," or men dressed in black uniforms that are hard to see. We move out beyond the trenches. A bomb goes off, and I am very frightened. I realize that leave has softened me, and that I am about to fall apart. Finally, when I heard Kat's voice, my strength returns, and I can try to rejoin my comrades. On the way back to their trench, however, I got lost in a field of shell-holes. A bombardment begins, and I was forced to take cover.
I stayed in the shell-hole through the entire bombardment and German counter-attack. Suddenly, a man came flying into the hole on top of me. Before I can think, I stab the French solider with a knife. I had not killed the man but injured him severely. I cannot bring himself to finish the job, however, and I am stuck in the hole waiting for the man to die. Finally I try to help him be comfortable, but there is not a lot I can do. I dress the man's wounds and calls him Comrade; it was the first time I had killed a man with my own two hands. After many more hours, the man dies. I, still stuck in the hole, close the man's eyes and think of the man's wife. After a while I started talking to the man, trying to explain why I killed him.
“But now, for the first time, I see you are a man like me. I thought of your hand-grenades, of your bayonet, of your rifle; now I see your wife and your face and our fellowship. Forgive me, comrade. We always see it too late. Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony--Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy?” (Remarque, 223).
I return to the trench, where I tell them what happened. I don't mention the man I killed, but the next morning I find the courage to tell Albert and Kat. They comfort me, and eventually I begin to feel better.

* Perambulators: a baby carriage
"..fleeing inhabitants trundling their goods and chattels along with them in wheelebarrows, in perambulators, and on their backs" (Remarque, 239).

* Convalescent: a patient who is recovering from an illness or the effects of medical treatment
"I get convalesvent leave" (Remarque, 269).



An Example of propraganda often found everywhere in wartime. It was peoples favorite way to gain support by claiming it was their "duty or right" to help with the war.

No matter how long you are in a war, it is still truamatizing. Others can become numb to it, but if they are away for a while, it becomes horrible all over again.