Chapter Twenty-Seven

The italicized parts are what I'm unsure about.

    Meanwhile, Fritz went out into the dawning morning that was blossoming in the dull blue sky and filled the quiet world with its triumphant light.

    The next stop he had to take a short meal was Pronitten; from there on out, there was then a long march straight through the country to the staging grounds of the troops.  He still would have liked to ride close to Bärwalde for a moment, but he had no time for this.

    Tired and sleepy lay the large parish garden in the heat of the morning.  A few white moths

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glided slowly over the flowerbeds there, the buzzing of the bees that drowsily flew from blossom to blossom was the only sound in the stifling loneliness.

    He didn't need to look for long.  Through the high shrubs of the beans over there, where the vegetable garden was positioned, he saw a woman's dress shimmering; now he was at her side, so quickly that she had not noticed his coming at all and became aware of him only through the jingle of his spurs as he stood close by her.  A slight shock went through her body, but a bright joy shone out of her face towards him.

    "How nice that you have come once again!" she said in her winning manner and shook his hand.

    "Yes," he replied, "what you still did not want to believe back then is now here.  A few minutes more, then I move out from here with my troops to the assembly point.  And then we face the enemy."

    "Happy and optimistic, as I see."

    "Happy and optimistic!" he repeated.  "The belief in victory is victory.  And we all have that!"

    "And no fear at all - not even a little bit?"

    "Fear? The word isn't in the dictionary of a Prussian soldier."  But as if he had concern to appear glorious:  "Admittedly, how it will feel later out there, when the bullets are whistling around one and the grenades are bursting, one can't know that yet to-day.  One just has to wait for that.  But fear it will definitely not be!  Of that I am certain...  It is so simple:  Triumph or die!  It couldn't

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be anything else at all.  And is death really to be feared?  We all have to go some time!"

    Again he paused a moment and then continued, becoming more serious:  "A few years ago, I was occupied with a beautiful job:  I had the assignment to write the history of my regiment.  It was no easy task, at first I had imagined it would not be so difficult.  But the further I progressed the more I felt that it brought the greatest benefit to me.  I got to know the heroes who one served this regiment, who had given blood and life for its flag.  To learn from history and from the lives of great men is probably the only school that brings us fruit.  To his book I have added a foreword, I have done it out of deepest conviction, and since then it has become more central to me, no longer a byword of my book but rather of my life."

    "And this word? she askt with a quiet hesitation.

    "And old song:

No lovelier death in this world
Than he who is killed by the enemy,
On green heath in a free field,
Needs not to hear great wailing."

    They were walking very slowly.  A hot shimmering was in the air, the trees stood motionless, not a leaf stirred.

    "A beautiful saying," she said after a long pause.  "But there is also something in it that depresses.  What then can we do here inside?"

    "Work in the silence and heal wounds!"

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    "We want that.  But of course, it is only very little, shamefully little compared to what you do out there."

    "In this time, probably no one keeps track of who gives more and who receives more.  Love is love, whether it is able to do much or little.  If it only gives what it can!"  And now in a visible effort to lend a higher tone to the conversation:  "You were always practiced in Samaritan duties."

    "You have kidded me about it often enough.  But not completely rightly, as I hope.  Our schoolhouse over there has already been made into a military hospital, also the upper floor of the parsonage has been set up for taking in the wounded, you must see it yourself later."

    "I can hardly come to it, my time is up."

    There was a pale appearance around her face.

    "I would like to leave behind a little keepsake for you, Miss Hanna," he said, and it was the first time that he called her by her first name.  "Would it be a joy for you if I ordered that book, the history of my regiment, for you?"

    "You could never do a greater thing for me."

    In her words lay her soul, and it spoke to him, melancholic and jubilant at the same time.

    "Then I will order it for you immediately."

    They were very near the house; she remained standing close to the pipewort arbor.

    "I have something else that I would like to say to you, that I must say to you," and again the words came from her lips haltingly and with difficulty.  "You said earlier that in this war there would be only one for you:  victory or dying!"

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    "Quite right.  It is also the title of my book."

    "But something else would be possible."

    "You mean to fall, living, into the hands of the enemy!  No, that will never happen, that is taken care of."

    "One could be wounded."

    "One must also bear that, although it is a much heavier thought than death is."

    "It doesn't need to be a serious wound, it could be a mild one.  But no matter if serious or mild, would you fulfill a great wish for me?"

    He guessed her question:  "You mean, I should then come over there to your military hospital, you wanted to give me an appetite for that already through friendly guidance."

    "That's what I meant, but not over there, but rather here with us in the parsonage.  And you promise it, don't you?"

    "Of course, although, quite frankly, I'd prefer not to make use of your friendly offer."

    A short farewell yet from the pastor's wife, an affectionate word of blessing from the old man.  Then Fritz Warsow rode at the top of his speed over the coarse pavement of Pronitten out into the field.