The Good Soldier Svejk (37 page)

And presently the windows in the passage rattled to the strains

"And by his gun he stood And kept on loading, loading, And kept on keeping on. A bullet came up quickly And took his arms off slickly,

He never turned a hair

But kept on loading, loading,

As he kept standing there,

And kept on keeping on."

Steps and voices could be heard across the barrack square.

"That's the warder," said the volunteer officer, "and that's Lieutenant Pelikan with him. He's on duty to-day. He's a reserve officer, a pal of mine. Let's go on yelling."

And again they shouted :

"And by his gun he stood -"

When the door opened, the warder, evidently agitated by the presence of the orderly officer, snorted : "This isn't a menagerie, let me tell you."

"Excuse me," replied the volunteer officer, "this is a charity concert for the benefit of incarcerated warriors. The first item on the programme has just started : Martial Symphony."

"Stop all that," said Lieutenant Pelikan, with an appearance of severity. "I believe you know you've got to lie down at nine o'clock and not kick up a row. Your singsong can be heard right in the middle of the town."

"Beg to report, sir," said the volunteer officer, "we've spent a lot of time over rehearsals, and if we're not actually out of tune -"

"He carries on like this every evening, sir," said the warder, endeavouring to rouse feeling against his enemy. "In fact, his whole behaviour's something shocking, sir."

"Beg to report, sir," said the volunteer officer, "I'd like to say something to you in private. The warder can wait outside."

When this was done, the volunteer officer said in a free-and-easy tone :

"Out with those cigarettes, old chap. . . . What, only gaspers ! And you a lieutenant too. Well, they'll do to go on with. Thanks. And now some matches."

"Gaspers," said the volunteer officer contemptuously, after his departure. "A man ought to do things in style even when he's on his beam-ends. Well, have a smoke before you turn in for the
night. To-morrow's our day of judgment."

Before going to sleep, the volunteer officer warbled one more ditty, about mountains and valleys and the girls he left behind him.

Meanwhile Colonel Schroder was among his fellow-officers in the hotel, listening to Lieutenant Kretschmann, who had returned from Serbia with a damaged leg (he had been butted by a cow), and who was describing an attack on the Serbian position, as seen from staff headquarters. Colonel Schroder listened with a benign smile. Then a young officer sitting near him, anxious to impress upon the colonel what a ruthless warrior he was, said in loud tones to his neighbour :

"Consumptives have got to be sent to the front. It does 'em good, and, besides, it's better for us to lose the crocks than the fit men."

The colonel smiled, but suddenly he frowned and, turning to Captain Wenzl, he said :

"I'm surprised that Lieutenant Lukash gives us such a wide berth. He's not joined us once since the day of his arrival."

"He's writing poems," announced Captain Sagner scornfully. "He hadn't been here a couple of hours before he fell in love with a Mrs. Schreiter, the wife of an engineer, whom he met at the theatre."

The colonel stared in front of him with a scowl :

"I've heard he's good at singing comic songs."

"Yes, when he was at the cadet school he was quite a dab at comic songs. He used to make us roar with laughter. And he knows no end of funny yarns, too. It's a fair treat to listen to him. I can't make out why he isn't here."

The colonel shook his head sadly :

"Nowadays there's no real comradeship among us. I can remember the time when every officer tried to do his bit toward amusing the company. There was one, I remember, a Lieutenant Dankl, he used to strip himself naked, lie on the floor, stick a herring's tail to his backside and pretend to be a mermaid. Then there was another chap, a Lieutenant Schleisner, who could waggle his ears and neigh like a stallion, besides imitating the miaowing of a cat and the buzzing of a bluebottle. And then I remember Captain Skoday. He always used to bring some girls to the officers' club whenever we wanted him to. They were three sisters, and he'd got 'em trained like dogs. He put 'em on a table and they used to undress in front of us, taking their time from him. He had a sort of little bâton, and I must say he was a first-rate conductor."

At this reminiscence Colonel Schroder smiled blissfully.

"But nowadays? Do you call this amusement? Why, even the man who can sing comic songs hasn't turned up. And nowadays the young officers can't take their liquor like men. It isn't twelve o'clock yet, and there's five of 'em under the table, blind to the wide. Why, there were times when we kept it up for two days on end, and the more we drank, the soberer we were, though we kept on shifting beer, wine and liqueurs. There's no such thing as a real military spirit. God alone knows why it is. You never hear

anything witty now—always the same old endless rigmarole. Just listen to them at the other end of the table, talking about America."

A solemn voice could be heard saying :

"America can't enter the war. The Americans and English are at loggerheads. America isn't prepared for war."

Colonel Schroder sighed.

"That's the sort of balderdash the reserve officers talk. It's a damned unpleasant business. Yesterday, fellows of that type were adding up figures in a bank or selling nutmeg and blacking, or teaching kids a lot of tommy-rot, and to-day they fancy they're on a level with pucka officers. They think there's nothing they can't do and they want to poke their noses into everything. And what can you expect, when we've got pucka officers like Lieutenant Lukash who never set foot among us?"

Colonel Schroder went home in a bad temper, and when he woke up in the morning, he was in a worse temper, because the newspapers which he had been reading in bed contained several references to Austrian troops withdrawing to positions prepared beforehand.

And such was the frame of mind in which at ten o'clock in the morning Colonel Schroder went to preside over what the volunteer officer had, perhaps with some justification, styled the day of judgment.

Schweik and the volunteer officer were waiting for the colonel on the barrack square. With them were the N. C. O.'s, the orderly officer, the adjutant, and the sergeant-major from the orderly room with the documents concerning the culprits.

At last the colonel, looking very gloomy, came into view. He was accompanied by Captain Sagner and was nervously knocking his riding crop against the sides of his high boots.

Having received the report, he walked several times, amid a sepulchral silence, round Schweik and the volunteer officer, who faced eyes right or eyes left according to the flank which the colonel was reaching at that particular moment. They did this with extreme thoroughness, and as it went on for a considerable time, they nearly sprained their necks.

At last the colonel came to a standstill in front of the volunteer officer.

"What were you before you joined the army?" he asked curtly. "An undergraduate, eh? What were you studying? What's that? Ancient philosophy? Bah! A boozy student, eh?"

"Captain Sagner," he then shouted, "bring all the volunteer officers along here, will you?

"Of course," he continued his conversation with the volunteer officer, "that's the kind of scum we have to soil our hands with. An undergraduate. Studying ancient philosophy, if you please. About turn. I thought so. Your tunic's all rumpled up. Anyone'd think you'd just been with a tart or sprawling about in a brothel. I'll make it hot for you, my fine fellow."

The volunteer officers had now entered the barrack square.

"Fall in, two deep, will you," commanded the colonel. And they did so.

"Just look at this man," bellowed the colonel, pointing with his hunting crop at the volunteer officer. "He's been bringing discredit on you with his drunken pranks. And has he got any excuse? None whatever. Just look at him. No excuse, and he was an undergraduate before he joined the army. Studying ancient philosophy. Ancient bunkum !"

The colonel spat with contempt.

"Studies ancient philosophy and then gets tight and then knocks off an officer's cap at night. Man alive, think yourself lucky it was only an artillery officer.

"Nevertheless," continued the colonel, "such conduct must receive exemplary punishment. Orderly room !"

The sergeant-major from the orderly room came forward solemnly, with documents and a pencil.

The stillness was like that in a court of justice during a murder trial, when the judge asks: "Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon your verdict?"

And it was in precisely such a tone of voice that the colonel passed sentence :

"Volunteer officer Marek is condemned to twenty-one days in cells, and after serving his sentence will be transferred to the cook house to scrape potatoes there."

Then, turning to the volunteer officers, the colonel gave the
order to re-form ranks. They rapidly formed fours and marched off, whereupon the colonel told Captain Sagner that it wouldn't do at all and that in the afternoon he was to give them another dose of quick marching on the barrack square.

"When they march, it's got to sound like claps of thunder. Oh, and there's something else I nearly forgot. Tell them that all volunteer officers are to have five days' C. B. so as they shan't forget their ex-comrade, that skunk Marek."

And that skunk Marek stood side by side with Schweik with an air of complete satisfaction. He had got just what he wanted. It was decidedly better to scrape potatoes, roll dumplings and parcel out chops, than, with the wind properly up, in the middle of a withering enemy fire, to yell : "Fix bayonets !"

Colonel Schroder then stationed himself in front of Schweik and looked at him attentively. At this moment Schweik's whole personality lay in his broad, smiling countenance, bounded by a large pair of ears, which projected from underneath his cap, pressed down tightly upon his head. The general impression was that of a man who is altogether at peace with the world and blissfully unconscious of any transgression on his part. His eyes seemed to ask : "I haven't done anything wrong, have I?"

The colonel summed up the results of his observations in a brief question which he addressed to the sergeant-major from the orderly room :

"Daft?"

Whereupon the colonel saw the mouth belonging to the unruffled countenance open before him.

"Beg to report, sir, daft," replied Schweik, on behalf of the sergeant-major.

Colonel Schroder beckoned to the adjutant and went on one side with him. Then they called the sergeant-major and inspected the material relating to Schweik.

"Aha," said Colonel Schroder, "so that's Lieutenant Lukash's orderly, who, according to his report, got lost at Tâbor. It seems to me that officers ought to attend to the training of their own orderlies. If Lieutenant Lukash chose to have this chronic imbecile for his orderly, he must put up with the nuisance of looking

after him. He's got plenty of spare time for that. He never goes anywhere. Have you ever seen him with us? Well, there you are, then. He's got enough spare time to lick his orderly into shape."

Colonel Schroder came up to Schweik and, looking at his good-humoured countenance, said :

"You blithering idiot, take three days in cells, and when it's over, report yourself to Lieutenant Lukash."

Thus it came about that Schweik met the volunteer officer again in the regimental guard room, and Lieutenant Lukash enjoyed a special treat when Colonel Schroder sent for him and announced :

"About a week ago, on joining the regiment, you made an application to me for an orderly, because your own orderly had got lost at the railway station in Tâbor. However, as he has now come back -"

"But, sir -" began Lieutenant Lukash imploringly.

"—I have decided," continued the colonel meaningly, "to detain him for three days in cells and then send him back to you."

Lieutenant Lukash, utterly crushed, reeled out of the colonel's office.

During the three days which Schweik spent in the company of volunteer officer Marek, he enjoyed himself immensely. Every evening they arranged patriotic demonstrations on the benches in their cell.

Voices were then heard warbling, "God Preserve Our Emperor for Us," and "Prince Eugene the Cavalier." They also went through a programme of soldiers' ditties, and when the warder arrived, he was greeted with a special musical tribute :

"Our warder's a jolly good fellow, And he'll never, never die. But the devil himself will come from hell To fetch him by-and-by.

"He'll come with a carriage to fetch him And he'll wallop him on the spot, And then the devils will shove him in the fire To keep hell nice and hot."

And while they were thus annoying the warder, much as an Andalusian bull is annoyed at Seville by means of a red cloth, Lieutenant Lukash, with a sinking heart, was awaiting the moment when Schweik would make his appearance to report himself for service again.