No Soldier Outlives A Thousand

We March Up, Moody Or Good-tempered Soldiers - We Reach The Zone Where The Front Begins And Become On The Instant Human Animals.

... But That's What Mankind Is Like: They Only Prize What They No Longer Possess.

Monotonously The Lorries Sway, Monotonously Come The Calls, Monotonously Falls The Rain. It Falls On Our Heads And On The Heads Of The Dead Up The Line, On The Body Of The Little Recruit With The Wound That Is So Much Too Big For His Hip; It Falls On Kemmerich's Grave; It Falls In Our Hearts.

At School Nobody Ever Taught Us How To Light A Cigarette In A Storm Of Rain, Nor How A Fire Could Be Made With Wet Wood-nor That It Is Best To Stick A Bayonet In The Belly Because There It Doesn't Get Jammed, As It Does In The Ribs.

On The Steps Is A Machine-gun Ready For Action. The Square Is Empty; Only The Streets That Lead Into It Are Jammed With People. It Would Be Madness To Go Farther - The Machine-gun Is Covering The Square.