My leave, on which I went a few days later, was this time not curtailed. I find in my diary this brief but eloquent record: ‘Leave spent very happily. Need have no reproaches on that score after my death.’ On the 9th April 1917 I returned to the 2nd Company, then quartered in the village of Merignies, not far from Douai. The pleasure of my return was dashed by an unexpected alarm which had for me the peculiarly unpleasant consequence that I had to ride the company charger to Beaumont. Through rain and sleet I rode at the head of the transport, that slipped all over the paved road, till we reached our destination at one in the morning.
When I had seen to my horse and the men as well as I could, I went in search of quarters for myself; but there was not an unoccupied corner to be found. At last a commissariat orderly had the excellent idea of offering me his bed, as he had to sit up for the telephone calls. While I was pulling off my boots and spurs he told me that the English had captured Vimy Ridge and a lot of ground from the Bavarians.
I could not help observing, in spite of his hospitality, that he was not at all pleased to find his quiet village headquarters turned into an assembly-point for the fighting troops.
The next morning the battalion marched in the direction of heavy firing to the village of Fresnoy. There I received orders to set up an observation post. I took a few men and explored the western outskirts of the village and found a cottage, in whose roof I had a look-out post made that commanded the front. We took the cellar as our dwelling-place, and in the course of making room there we came upon a sack of potatoes, a very welcome addition to our scanty provisions. My batman now roasted me potatoes every evening, with salt. Lieutenant Gornick also, like a true friend, sent me a large parcel of Leberwurst and some red wine. He had found them among the stores left behind in haste in Villerval, which had already been evacuated, but which Gornick was holding as an outpost with one platoon. I at once equipped an expedition furnished with perambulators and similar means of transport to secure this treasure. Unfortunately it returned empty-handed, as the English were already in full strength on the edge of the village. Gornick told me later that after the discovery of a large cellar of red wine a drinking bout had started, which, in spite of the attack then being made on the village, it had been extremely difficult to bring to a close.
On the 14th of April I was given the task of organizing an intelligence clearing-station in the village. For this purpose I had despatch-riders, bicyclists, telephone and light-signal stations, underground telegraph wires, carrier pigeons, and a chain of Verey-light posts placed at my disposal. I looked out a suitable cellar, with a deep dugout, and returned for the last time to my dwelling-place on the western edge of the village.
During the night I fancied I heard a crash now and then and shouts from my batman, but I was so dazed with sleep that I only murmured, ‘Oh, let them shoot!’ and turned over, though the whole place was thick with dust. Next morning I was awakened by little Schultz, Colonel von Oppen’s nephew, who was shouting, ‘I say—don’t you know yet that your whole house has been blown to blazes?’
When I got up and surveyed the damage, I observed that a shell of the heaviest caliber had been planted on the roof, and that the observation post, indeed the whole house, was no more. If the velocity had only been a trifle slower the hit would have got us in the cellar and plastered the walls with us, so that in the nice saying of the trenches we might have been ‘scraped off with a spoon and buried in the pot.’ Schultz told me that his orderly said to him when he saw the ruins of the house: ‘There was a lieutenant in there yesterday. Better have a look and see whether he is there still.’ My batman was beside himself at the way I had slept through it.
几天后我去休假了，这次没有缩短我的假期。我在日记中发了这样一条简短而雄辩的记录：“休假过得很愉快。在我死后，不必在这方面责备我。”1917年4月9日，我回到第二连，当时驻扎在离杜艾不远的梅里格尼斯村。我回来的快乐被一个意想不到的警报打破了，这给我带来了特别不愉快的后果，我不得不骑着公司的充电器去博蒙特。在雨夹雪中，我坐在运输工具的最前面，它在铺好的路上打滑，直到我们凌晨一点到达目的地。
当我尽可能地照顾好我的马和人时，我就去为自己寻找住处；但是找不到一个空闲的角落。最后，一位政委勤务兵想出了一个好主意，把他的床给我，因为他必须坐起来接电话。当我脱下靴子和马刺时，他告诉我，英国人已经从巴伐利亚人手中夺取了维米岭和许多土地。
我忍不住注意到，尽管他热情好客，但他发现自己安静的村部变成了作战部队的集结点，一点也不高兴。
第二天早上，该营朝着猛烈射击的方向向弗雷斯诺村行进。在那里，我接到了设立观察哨的命令。我带了几个人，探索了村庄的西郊，发现了一间小屋，我在小屋的屋顶上做了一个了望台，指挥着前线。我们把地窖作为我们的住处，在那里腾出空间的过程中，我们发现了一袋土豆，这是我们微薄的食物中非常受欢迎的补充。我的勤务兵现在每天晚上都用盐烤土豆。戈尔尼克中尉也像一个真正的朋友一样，给我寄了一大包勒伯赫斯特和一些红酒。他在维勒瓦尔匆忙留下的仓库中发现了它们，维勒瓦尔已经被疏散，但戈尔尼克将其作为一个排的前哨。我立刻装备了一支配备了巡逻车和类似交通工具的探险队来保护这件宝藏。不幸的是，它空手而归，因为英国人已经在村庄的边缘全力进攻了。戈尔尼克后来告诉我，在发现一大酒窖红酒后，一场饮酒比赛开始了，尽管当时村庄遭到了袭击，但要结束这场比赛还是非常困难的。
4月14日，我接到任务，在村里组织一个情报交换站。为此，我安排了派遣骑手、骑自行车的人、电话和灯光信号站、地下电报线、信鸽和一系列Verey灯柱供我使用。我向外看了看一个合适的地窖，里面有一个很深的防空洞，最后一次回到了我在村庄西边缘的住处。
晚上，我想我不时听到击球手的撞击声和呼喊声，但我睡得晕头转向，只低声说：“哦，让他们开枪吧！”然后翻了个身，尽管整个地方都积满了灰尘。第二天早上，我被冯·奥本上校的侄子小舒尔茨吵醒，他喊道：“我说——你还不知道你的整个房子都被炸成了火吗？”
当我站起来调查损坏情况时，我注意到屋顶上种了一枚最重口径的炮弹，而观察哨，实际上是整个房子，已经不见了。如果速度稍微慢一点，袭击就会把我们带到地窖里，把墙壁涂上灰泥，所以用战壕的美语来说，我们可能会被“用勺子刮掉，埋在锅里”舒尔茨告诉我，当他看到房子的废墟时，他的勤务兵对他说：“昨天有一名中尉在里面。最好看看他是否还在那儿。”我的击球手被我睡觉的方式弄得晕头转向。
During the morning we shifted our quarters into the new cellar. On the way we were nearly hit by the church tower, which the engineers were unobtrusively blowing up in order to deprive the enemy of an easy mark. In a neighbouring village they had forgotten to warn a post of two men who were keeping a look-out from the top of the tower there. By a miracle they were retrieved uninjured from the debris.
We furnished our roomy cellar very passably, for we collected what we required from mansion or cottage, and what we had no use for we burned in the stove.
During the first day there was a succession of duels to the death in the air. They ended nearly every time in the defeat of the English, as Richthofen’s battle formation was circling over the neighbourhood. Often five or six machines were driven down or shot down in flames. Once we saw the pilot thrown from his machine and fall to the earth as a separate black speck. There were dangers, too, in staring up into the sky. A man of the 4th Company was killed by a falling splinter that hit him in the neck.
On the 18th April I paid a visit to the 2nd Company in the line. It held a salient in front of the village of Arleux. Lieutenant Boje told me that he had only had a single casualty for a long while, as the English shelling was so methodical that it allowed them to side-step and avoid it every time.
After I had wished him all the best, I had to leave the village at the gallop, on account of the continuous shooting by the enemy’s heavy guns. I stopped 300 metres behind Arleux to watch the clouds that rose from each hit. They were red or black according to whether brick walls had been pounded or garden soil flung up; and among them was the delicate white of exploding shrapnel. When a few ‘whizz-bangs’ began falling on the footpaths that connected Arleux with Fresnoy, I abandoned the pursuit of further impressions and decamped at full speed, in case I might be ‘slain,’ as the stock phrase then was in the 2nd Company.
I was often making expeditions of this kind, sometimes as far as the little town of Hénin-Liétard, for during the first fourteen days, in spite of my large staff, there was not a single report to communicate.
From the 20th April Fresnoy was shelled by a 30.5 centimetre gun. The shells came over with a perfectly infernal hiss. After each hit the village was veiled in a huge reddish-brown cloud of picric-acid gas. Even the duds caused a small earthquake. A man of the 9th Company, who was surprised by one of them in the courtyard of the château, was flung over the trees in the park and broke most of his bones in the fall.
In the afternoon the village was shelled with all calibres. In spite of the danger I could not tear myself from the attic windows of my house. It was a breathless sight to see how small parties and despatch-carriers chased over the shelled area, often throwing themselves flat, while the ground was flung up on every side of them.
When I went into the village after this, one more cellar had been hit and set on fire. the salvage operations recovered only three bodies. Near the cellar lay one on its face, with the uniform in shreds. The head was torn off and the blood flowed into a puddle of water. When the stretcher-bearer turned the body over to remove any valuables I could not help seeing that on the stump of the arm there was only a thumb.
早上，我们把住处搬进了新地窖。在路上，我们差点被教堂塔楼击中，工程师们正在悄悄地炸毁教堂塔楼，以使敌人失去一个容易的标记。在邻近的一个村庄，他们忘记警告一个哨所，那里有两个人正在塔楼顶部向外看。奇迹般的是，他们被从废墟中救出，没有受伤。
我们把宽敞的地窖布置得还可以，因为我们从豪宅或小屋里收集了我们需要的东西，没有用的东西我们在炉子里烧了。
在第一天，有一连串的决斗在空中进行。他们几乎每次都以英国人的失败告终，因为里希特霍芬的战斗队形在附近地区盘旋。通常有五六台机器被击落或起火。有一次，我们看到飞行员从他的机器上摔下来，像一个单独的黑点一样掉到了地上。抬头仰望天空也有危险。第4连的一名男子被掉落的碎片击中颈部致死。
4月18日，我参观了生产线的第二公司。它在Arleux村前面有一个突出的地方。波杰中尉告诉我，很长一段时间以来，他只有一人伤亡，因为英国的炮击是如此有条不紊，以至于他们每次都能避开。
在我祝他一切顺利之后，由于敌人的重炮不断射击，我不得不迅速离开村庄。我在Arleux村后面300米处停了下来，观看每次撞击后升起的云层。它们是红色的还是黑色的，这取决于砖墙是被砸碎的还是花园里的泥土被扔掉的；在它们之中，是爆炸的弹片发出的细腻的白色。当几声“嗖嗖”的砰砰声开始落在连接阿勒和弗雷斯诺的人行道上时，我放弃了对进一步印象的追求，全速逃离，以防我被“*死”，就像当时第二连的流行语一样。
我经常进行这种探险，有时甚至到Hénin Liétard小镇，因为在最初的14天里，尽管我有很多工作人员，但没有一份报告可以交流。
从4月20日起，弗雷斯诺遭到30.5厘米口径火炮的炮击。炮弹发出一声地狱般的嘶嘶声。每次袭击后，村庄都笼罩在一团巨大的红棕色苦味酸气体中。就连哑弹也引发了一场小地震。第9连的一名男子在城堡的院子里被其中一人吓了一跳，他被扔到公园的树上，在秋天摔断了大部分骨头。
下午，村庄遭到各种口径的炮击。尽管有危险，我还是无法从阁楼的窗户上跳下来。看到小分队和运兵车如何在炮击区上空追击，常常把自己炸得平淡无奇，而他们的每一边都被炸飞了，真是令人窒息。
当我在这之后进入村庄时，又有一个地窖被击中并被点燃。打捞行动只找到了三具尸体。地窖附近躺着一只脸上躺着，制服成了碎片。头被扯了下来，鲜血流进了水坑。当担架员把尸体翻过来取贵重物品时，我忍不住看到手臂残肢上只有一个拇指。
The enemy artillery became more active every day and left no doubt of an early attack. On the 27th April at midnight I had the following telephone message: ’67 from 5 a.m.,’ which meant in our code, ‘Utmost readiness for an alarm at 5 a.m.’
So I lay down again, hoping to be all the better prepared for the expected exertions. However, as I was just falling asleep a shell hit the house and blew in the wall of the cellar stairs and threw the masonry into the cellar. We jumped up and hurried into the dugout.
As we crouched on the steps in the light of a candle, disconcerted and weary, the sergeant of might light-signaling section, whose post, together with two valuable signaling lamps, had been smashed up in the afternoon, came rushing in. ‘Sir the cellar of No. 11 has had a direct hit and some of the men are still buried in the ruins.’ As I had two cyclist and three telephonists in No. 11, I took some men and hurried to their help.
I found a lance-corporal and a wounded man in the dugout, and was given the following account. When the shells began to fall suspiciously near, four of the five occupants of the cellar decided to go down into the dugout shaft. One of them went straight away, one stayed where he was in bed, while the remaining three delayed to pull on their boots. The most prudent and the least, as so often in war, came off the best: the first had not a scratch, and the second had a splinter in the thigh. The three others were caught by the shell, which came through the cellar wall and exploded in the opposite corner.
After this narration I lit a cigar and went into the smoke-filled cellar. In the middle of it there was a heap of wreckage—bedsteads, straw mattresses, and various pieces of furniture, all in fragments and piled nearly up to the roof. After we had put a few candles on ledges of the walls, we set to work. Catching hold of the limbs that stuck out from the wreckage, we pulled out the dead bodies. One had the head struck off, and the neck on the trunk was like a great sponge of blood. From the arms stumps of another the broken bones projected, and the uniform was saturated by a large wound in the chest. The entrails of the third poured out from a wound in the belly. As we pulled out the last a splintered board caught in the ghastly wound with a hideous noise. The orderly made a comment on this, and was reproved by my batman with these words: ‘Best hold your tongue. In such matters talking nonsense serves no purpose.’
I took an inventory of the valuables found on them. It was a horrible job. The candles flickered red in the vaporous air, and as the two men handed me pocket-books and silver objects it seemed as though we were engaged in some dark and secret work. The fine yellow plaster-dust fell on the faces of the dead and gave them the fixed look of waxed figures. We threw coverings over them and hurried out of the cellar, after taking up the wounded man in a ground-sheet. With the stoical advice to set his teeth, we carried him through a whirl of shrapnel fire to the dressing-station dugout.
When I got back to my dwelling-place the first thing I did was to have a few cherry-brandies. The experience I had been through had touched my nerve. Soon we were being violently shelled once more, and with the example before our eyes of what artillery fire can do in cellars we made all speed into the dugout shaft.
At 5.15 a.m. the fire increased to an incredible violence. Our dugout rocked and trembled like a ship on a stormy sea. All round resounded the rending of masonry and the crash of collapsing houses.
At 7 a.m. I received a message by light-signal addressed to the 2nd Battalion: ‘Brigade requires immediate report on the situation.’ After an hour a despatch-carrier brought back the news: ‘Enemy taken Arleux and Arleux park. Ordered 8th Company to counter-attack. No news so far. Rocholl, Captain.’
This was the only message that my tremendous apparatus of transmission had to deal with during all three weeks of my time in Fresnoy—though certainly it was a very important one. And now that my activity was of the utmost value, the artillery fire had put nearly the whole organization out of action. Such were the results of over-centralization.
This surprising information explained why we had heard rifle-bullets, fired at no very great range, clattering against the walls of the houses.
We had scarcely realized the great losses suffered by the regiment, when the shelling was renewed with increasing fury. My batman was standing, the last of all, on the top step of the dugout stairs, when a crash like thunder announced that the English had at last succeeded in knocking in our cellar. The trusty Knigge got a squared building-stone on the back, but was not hurt. Above, everything was shot to blazes. Daylight came to us past two bicycles squeezed into the dugout entrance. We made ourselves as small as we could on the lowest step, while heavy explosions and the din of falling masonry convinced us of the insecurity of our refuge.
敌人的大炮一天比一天活跃，毫无疑问会提前发动进攻。4月27日午夜，我收到了以下电话信息：“早上5点开始67”，在我们的代码中，这意味着“凌晨5点最准备报警”
于是我再次躺下，希望能为预期的努力做好更好的准备。然而，当我刚睡着的时候，一枚炮弹击中了房子，炸进了地窖楼梯的墙壁，把砖石扔进了地窖。我们跳起来，匆匆走进休息区。
当我们在烛光下蹲在台阶上，既不安又疲惫时，探照灯信号科的中士冲了进来，他的哨所和两盏宝贵的信号灯在下午被砸碎了。“先生，11号地窖被直接击中，一些人仍被埋在废墟中。”由于我在11号有两名骑自行车的人和三名打电话的人，我带了一些人赶紧去帮助他们。
我在防空洞里发现了一名下士和一名伤员，并得到了以下描述。当炮弹开始可疑地落在附近时，地窖里的五名住户中有四名决定进入防空洞。其中一人直接走了，一人留在床上，其余三人则迟迟不穿靴子。最谨慎和最不谨慎的，就像在战争中经常发生的那样，都是最好的：第一个没有擦伤，第二个大腿上有碎片。另外三人被炮弹击中，炮弹穿过地窖墙壁，在对面角落爆炸。
说完，我点了一支雪茄，走进烟雾弥漫的地窖。在它的中间有一堆残骸、稻草床垫和各种家具，都是碎片，几乎堆到了屋顶。我们在墙上的壁架上点了几支蜡烛后，就开始工作了。抓住从残骸中伸出的四肢，我们取出了尸体。其中一个被砍下了头，脖子放在树干上就像一块巨大的海绵。从另一个人的手臂残肢上伸出了骨折，制服被胸部的一个大伤口浸透了。第三个的内脏从腹部的伤口里涌出。当我们拔出最后一块时，一块碎木板卡在可怕的伤口上，发出可怕的声音。勤务兵对此发表了评论，并被我的击球手斥责道：“最好别说话。”。在这种事情上胡说八道是没有用的。”
我清点了在上面发现的贵重物品。这是一份糟糕的工作。蜡烛在蒸发的空气中闪烁着红色，当两个人递给我口袋里的书和银色的东西时，我们似乎在做一些黑暗而秘密的工作。黄色的灰泥灰尘落在死者的脸上，给他们留下了蜡像的固定表情。我们把伤员裹在床单里后，把被子盖在他们身上，匆匆走出地窖。在坚忍的建议下，我们带着他穿过一片弹片，来到了更衣室的休息区。
当我回到住处时，我做的第一件事就是喝了几杯樱桃白兰地。我所经历的一切触动了我的神经。很快，我们又一次遭到猛烈炮击，有了炮火在地窖里的作用，我们迅速进入了防空洞。
早上5点15分，火势发展到令人难以置信的地步。我们的防空洞像暴风雨海上的船一样摇晃着。四周回荡着砖石结构的撕裂声和倒塌房屋的撞击声。
早上7点，我收到了一条通过灯光信号发给第二营的信息：“旅要求立即报告情况。”一个小时后，一艘航母发回消息：“敌人占领了阿勒和阿勒公园。命令第8连反攻。”。到目前为止没有消息。罗科尔，上尉。”
这是我在弗雷斯诺的三周时间里，我庞大的传播机构必须处理的唯一信息——尽管这无疑是一个非常重要的信息。现在，我的活动具有最大的价值，炮火几乎使整个组织失去了行动。这就是过度集权的结果。
这一令人惊讶的信息解释了为什么我们听到步枪子弹在不太大的范围内发射，撞击房屋墙壁的咔嗒声。
我们刚意识到该团遭受了巨大损失，炮击就愈演愈烈。我的击球手，最后一个，站在休息区楼梯的最高台阶上，突然一声雷鸣般的撞击声宣布，英国人终于成功地敲进了我们的地窖。值得信赖的克尼格背部被一块方形的建筑石击中，但没有受伤。上面，一切都被烧成了灰烬。天亮了，两辆自行车挤进了休息区的入口。在最底层的台阶上，我们尽可能地缩小自己，而猛烈的爆炸声和砖石倒塌的喧闹声让我们相信了这一点
By a miracle the telephone was still working, so I explained the plight we were in to my chief at the division, and received orders to withdraw my men into the dressing-station dugout close by.
After packing up what it was most essential to take with us, we set about leaving the dugout by the second and only remaining exit. In spite of my preemptory ordered, backed up by unequivocal threats, the telephone staff, which was not much used to war, hesitated so long to venture out of the protection of the dugout into the shell-fire that this exit, too, was smashed in with a crash by a heavy shell. Luckily, no one was hit; only our little dog howled miserably, and from that moment was never seen again.
We pushed aside the bicycles that barred the way out through the cellar, and, creeping on all-fours over the heaps of debris, got into the open through ha narrow crack in the wall. We did not pause to observe the incredible change that these few hours had produced in the village, but ran out of it as fast as we could. The last of us had scarcely left the yard gates when the house got another tremendous hit.
A compact belt of fire covered the area between the edge of the village and the dressing-station dugout. Light and heavy shells with direct and delay action fuses, duds, empty cases, and shrapnel combined to produce a nightmare of acoustic and optical effects. Through it, passing to right and left of the witch’s cauldron seething in the village, the reserves were marching up.
In Fresnoy the shells were sending the earth in fountains as high as church towers. Each seemed bent on outdoing its predecessor. As though by magic, one house after another was sucked into the earth. Walls collapsed, gables fell, and bare rafters were flung through the air to mow the roofs of neighbouring house. Clouds of splinters danced above the whitish swathes of vapour. Eye and ear hung as though entranced upon this dance of destruction.
We spent two days in a painfully confined space in the dressing-station dugout, for besides my men there were the staffs of two battalions, two relief detachments, and the indispensable corps troops. Naturally, the constant coming and going in front of the entrances was observed by the enemy. Soon the range was got to a yard, and at intervals of a minute shells fell on the track outside, and there were casualties all the time. Indeed, the shouts for stretcher-bearers never ceased. I lost four bicycles which we had left outside, owing to this disagreeable bombardment. They were scattered to the four winds, in various states of contortion.
Stark and still, and wrapped in a ground sheet, Lieutenant Lemière, the commander of the 8th Company, lay at the entrance, his large horn spectacles still on his nose. His men had brought him there. He was shot in the mouth. His younger brother was killed a few months later in exactly the same way.
On the 30th April I handed over to my successor of the 25th Regiment, by whom we were relieved. We made our way to Flers, the rendezvous of the 1st Battalion. Leaving the much-shelled limekilns, ‘Chez bon temps,’ on our left, we went quickly on through the afternoon sunshine along the path to Beaumont. Our eyes rejoiced again in the beauty of the earth. We drew in the intoxicating breath of spring, thankful to have escaped the intolerably crowded confinement of the dugout. With the thunder of guns in our rear, my sympathies were with the poet:
奇迹的是，电话依然还在工作，所以我向我在师的负责人解释了我们所处的困境，并接到命令，把我的人撤回附近的更衣室休息区。
在收拾好最重要的东西后，我们开始在第二个也是唯一剩下的出口离开休息区。尽管我下达了先发制人的命令，并得到了明确的威胁，但不太习惯战争的电话工作人员犹豫了很长时间，不敢冒险离开防空洞进入炮弹火力中，以至于这个出口也被一枚沉重的炮弹砸了进去。幸运的是，没有人被击中；只有我们的小狗惨叫着，从那一刻起就再也没有人看见它了。
我们推开挡住了通往地窖的自行车，四肢爬行在成堆的废墟上，从墙上的一条狭窄裂缝进入了空地。我们没有停下来观察这几个小时在村庄里产生的令人难以置信的变化，而是尽可能快地用完了。我们最后一个人刚走出院子的大门，房子就又受到了巨大的撞击。
一道密集的防火带覆盖了村庄边缘和更衣站休息区之间的区域。带有直接和延迟引信的轻型和重型炮弹、哑弹、空弹壳和弹片结合在一起，产生了一场声光效果的噩梦。穿过它，从村庄里沸腾的女巫大锅的左右两侧经过，预备队正在向上行进。
在弗雷斯诺，炮弹把大地喷成喷泉，高达教堂塔楼。每一个似乎都一心想超越前一个。就像被魔法吸引一样，一栋又一栋的房子被吸入了地下。墙壁倒塌，山墙倒塌，光秃秃的椽子被抛向空中，割破了附近房子的屋顶。碎片云在白色的蒸汽上飞舞。眼睛和耳朵都被这场毁灭之舞迷住了。
我们在化妆站休息区的狭小空间里度过了两天，因为除了我的人，还有两个营的工作人员、两个救援分遣队和不可或缺的军团部队。自然地，敌人观察到了入口前不断的来来往往。很快，射程就到了一码远，每隔一分钟就有炮弹落在外面的跑道上，一直有人伤亡。事实上，对担架手的呼喊从未停止。由于这次令人讨厌的轰炸，我丢失了我们留在外面的四辆自行车。他们被分散在四股风中，处于各种扭曲的状态。
第8连的指挥官勒梅尔中尉裹着床单，一动不动地躺在入口处，他的大角眼镜还戴在鼻子上。他的人把他带到了那里。他的嘴中枪了。几个月后，他的弟弟也以同样的方式被*害。
4月30日，我把工作交给了第25团的继任者，他让我们松了一口气。我们前往第一营的集合地Flers。离开我们左边那座被炮击得很厉害的石灰窑“Chez bon temps”，我们在午后的阳光下沿着通往博蒙特的小路快速前行。我们的眼睛再次为大地的美丽而高兴。我们吸入了春天令人陶醉的气息，庆幸自己逃离了令人无法忍受的拥挤的休息区。在我们后方炮轰隆隆的情况下，我同情这位诗人：
‘Surely the day that God has given
Has better uses than to kill.’
“上帝所赐的日子
有比*人更好的用处”
In Flers I found the quarter allotted me in the possession of some staff sergeant-majors, who, under the pretext that they had to keep the room for a certain Baron von X, refused to give it up to me. They failed, however, to reckon with the overstrained nerves of a worn-out front-line soldier. I told my men to smash in the door, and after a brief hand-to-hand engagement, under the eyes of the owner of the house, who, much alarmed, hastened on to the scene in his dressing-gown, we sent the gentlemen flying down the stairs. My batman carried politeness to such lengths that he threw their trench boots after them. After this assault I took possession of the warm bed, surrendering half of it to my friend Kius, who was wandering round without a billet. Sleeping in a bed after so long a time did us so much good that we woke next morning in all our ‘pristine vigour.’
As the 1st Battalion had come of the lightest in the casualties of the recent days of fighting, we were in excellent trim as we marched to Douai station. From there we went by train to the junction of Busigny. We were to have some days’ rest in Serain, a village in the neighbourhood. The population was friendly, and we had good quarters. On the very first evening the sound of happy forgathering were to be heard from many of the houses.
These drink-offerings on the morrow of well-fought fights count among an old soldier’s happiest memories. And though ten out of twelve had fallen, still the last two, as sure as death, were to be found on the first evening of rest over the bottle, drinking a silent health to their dead companions, talking and laughing over all they had been through. For dangers past—an old soldier’s laugh. For those to come—a full glass, though death and the devil grin there, as long as the wine was good. Such has ever been the custom of war.
It was the officers’ mess more than all that made me appreciate this. It was here, among the spirits of the undaunted dead, that the will to conquer was concentrated and made visible in the features of each weather-beaten face. There was an element at work here that the very horror of the war underlined and even spiritualized, an element one seldom found among the men with whom one lay in the shell-holes—sporting joy in danger, and a chivalrous impulse to see things out. And to say the least of it, I have never in this much-reviled circle heard one faint-hearted word.
My batman came next morning and read me the orders. From these it appeared that I was to take command of the 3rd Company. It was in this company, in the autumn of 1914, that Hermann Löns, the Lower Saxon poet, fell.
在弗勒，我发现分配给我的宿舍归一些上士少校所有，他们以必须为某个冯十世男爵保留房间为借口，拒绝给我。然而，他们没有考虑到一个疲惫的前线士兵过度紧张的情绪。我叫我的人把门砸开，在短暂的肉搏战之后，在房主的眼皮底下，我们让先生们飞下楼梯。房主非常惊慌，穿着晨衣赶往现场。我的击球手彬彬有礼，甚至把他们的战壕靴扔到他们身后。在这次袭击之后，我占据了温暖的床，把一半交给了我的朋友基乌斯，他四处游荡，没有住处。睡了这么长时间在床上对我们有很大的好处，以至于第二天早上我们以“原始的活力”醒来
由于第1营是最近几天战斗中伤亡最轻的营，我们在向杜艾车站行进时处于良好的状态。从那里我们乘火车去了布西尼的交界处。我们要在附近的Serain（塞兰）村休息几天。这里的人很友好，我们住得很好。就在第一天晚上，许多房子里都传来了幸福的宽恕之声。
在一个老兵最幸福的回忆中，这些在第二天的精彩战斗中献上的饮料算是其中之一。虽然十二个人中有十个人倒下了，但在休息的第一个晚上，仍然有最后两个人躺在瓶子旁，默默地为死去的同伴喝着健康的酒，谈笑着讲述他们所经历的一切。对于过去的危险——一个老兵的笑声。对于那些来的人——一杯完整的，尽管死亡和魔鬼在那里咧嘴笑，只要葡萄酒是好的。这一直是战争的习俗。
更让我感激的是军官们的混乱。正是在这里，在无畏的死者的灵魂中，征服的意志集中起来，并在每一张饱经风霜的脸上显现出来。这里有一种因素在起作用，战争的恐怖突显了这一点，甚至使之精神化，这种因素在与之一起躺在弹孔里的人中很少发现——在危险中表现出快乐，并有一种看到事情真相的骑士冲动。退一步说，在这个备受唾骂的圈子里，我从来没有听到过一句胆怯的话。
我的击球手第二天早上来给我宣读命令。由此看来，我将指挥第3连。1914年秋天，正是在这个公司里，下撒克逊诗人赫尔曼·朗斯倒下了。在弗勒，我发现分配给我的宿舍归一些上士少校所有，他们以必须为某个冯十世男爵保留房间为借口，拒绝给我。然而，他们没有考虑到一个疲惫的前线士兵过度紧张的情绪。我叫我的人把门砸开，在短暂的肉搏战之后，在房主的眼皮底下，我们让先生们飞下楼梯。房主非常惊慌，穿着晨衣赶往现场。我的击球手彬彬有礼，甚至把他们的战壕靴扔到他们身后。在这次袭击之后，我占据了温暖的床，把一半交给了我的朋友基乌斯，他四处游荡，没有住处。睡了这么长时间在床上对我们有很大的好处，以至于第二天早上我们以“原始的活力”醒来
由于第1营是最近几天战斗中伤亡最轻的营，我们在向杜艾车站行进时处于良好的状态。从那里我们乘火车去了布西尼的交界处。我们要在附近的Serain（塞兰）村休息几天。这里的人很友好，我们住得很好。就在第一天晚上，许多房子里都传来了幸福的宽恕之声。
在一个老兵最幸福的回忆中，这些在第二天的精彩战斗中献上的饮料算是其中之一。虽然十二个人中有十个人倒下了，但在休息的第一个晚上，仍然有最后两个人躺在瓶子旁，默默地为死去的同伴喝着健康的酒，谈笑着讲述他们所经历的一切。对于过去的危险——一个老兵的笑声。对于那些来的人——一杯完整的，尽管死亡和魔鬼在那里咧嘴笑，只要葡萄酒是好的。这一直是战争的习俗。
更让我感激的是军官们的混乱。正是在这里，在无畏的死者的灵魂中，征服的意志集中起来，并在每一张饱经风霜的脸上显现出来。这里有一种因素在起作用，战争的恐怖突显了这一点，甚至使之精神化，这种因素在与之一起躺在弹孔里的人中很少发现——在危险中表现出快乐，并有一种看到事情真相的骑士冲动。退一步说，在这个备受唾骂的圈子里，我从来没有听到过一句胆怯的话。
我的击球手第二天早上来给我宣读命令。由此看来，我将指挥第3连。1914年秋天，正是在这个公司里，下撒克逊诗人赫尔曼·朗斯倒下了。
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