by Erich Maria Remarque, 1928, Translated from German by A.W. Wheen – (not a good translation – is what I thought in 2013)
Preface: “This book is to be neither an accusation nor a confession, and least of all an adventure, for death is not an adventure to those who stand face to face with it. It will try simply to tell of a generation of men who, even though they may have escaped shells, were destroyed by the war.”
WWI trench warfare from the German side. How the horrible war, on the front lines, robbed young men of their spirits, so even if they lived through a battle, what they saw and did haunted them and ruined them. War destroyed beautiful young men physically, mentally, spiritually; just like it destroyed the beauty of nature, including horses and dogs. The only thing that kept them going was their comrades, their fellow soldiers, and stealing what joy they could grab between trips to the front lines with whatever they could find – playing cards in a meadow of flowers, stealing geese and cooking a feast, trysts with french women, sleeping, etc.
In the trenches, there was so much horror – fear, noise, rats, wounds, death, pain, hunger, waiting, anguish. By the summer of 1918 – the most horrible bombardment – all 6 of the original 7 buddies have died. Only Paul is left. Last 2 paragraphs (Paul’s death):
“He fell in October 1918, on a day that was so quiet and still on the whole front, that the army report confided itself to the single sentence: All quiet on the Western Front.
‘He had fallen forward and lay on the earth as though sleeping. Turning him over one saw that he could not have suffered long; his face had an expression of calm, as though almost glad the end had come.”
About the Author: “Erich Maria Remarque (1898-1970) was himself in combat during World War I, and was wounded five times, the last time very severely…” “Remarque came to the United States in 1939 and remained for the duration of World War II, but returned to Switzerland afterward…”
Last scene: Paul and his best buddy, Kat, are in a shell-hole together – 3 years of war behind them – having survived 3 years on the front line. Kat falls while bringing food, “his shin seems to be smashed.”
Paul carries him on his back to a dressing station. On the way the shells and explosions force them to take cover in a small hole. “The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left.” He picks Kat up again and runs “a slow, steady pace, so as not to jolt his leg too much…and at least reach the dressing station.”
“There I drop down on my knees, but have still enough strength to fall on to the side where Kat’s sound leg is…” “…the orderly whistles softly. “I know better than that. He is dead…I shake my head: “not possible. Only ten minutes ago I was talking to him. He has fainted.”
“Kat’s hands are warm, I pass my hand under his shoulders in order to rub his temples with some tea. I feel my fingers become moist…On the way without my having noticed it, Kat has caught a splinter in the head…Kat is dead…All is as usual. Only the Militiaman Stanislaus Katczinsky has died.”
‘Then I know nothing more.”