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Updated: May 24, 2025
He had almost reached the General when my throat worked, and I called, 'Samarc. It was as if he didn't hear me. Nothing would have stopped him. It was his idea, yet I think he meant only to stop the order of another infantry advance. He had ceased to kill, you know...." Peter ended it hastily. They were all interested to know why Samarc was to have been decorated.
Peter felt a horror in his breast for the immediate presence of the guns as if he had reached the end of toleration in the one day with them. Samarc felt this hate, too, his ruling passion.... Any moment one of the rapid-firers might drum into action. Their sense was one that something would be uncoupled in their minds.
"You and I for it at least a while yet. I say do the hard thing. The little man would have it so. We'll go down closer to the infantry stuff and forget ourselves." ...Yes, Samarc would do the hard thing. There was gratitude for which Peter had no receptivity gratitude for the friendship, the night's watching.
"A bit of bad judgment," Peter said, not explaining whether it was his or the young doctor's. The surgeon did not ask, but turned to the great muffled face. "This man was from one of the rapid-fire commands, I believe?" Peter was prevented from further glibness by a decisive nod from Samarc. "The Fatherland will need you to-day," the surgeon said with a peculiar significance.
"Excuse me, Samarc," he said. They looked long into each other's faces. "You were wonderful as you spoke of your friend. Did you know that, Peter?" He turned away deprecatingly. "Forgive me. Of course you didn't know." "...And you meant to come all the time?" he asked at last. "Yes."
"He said his face had been fixed for tea and toast with Spenski until we began to steam up the place. Now he's gone to the feed- wagons." "Why, bless the ruffian, there's enough here for four." "I told him that, but you know Samarc." Little Spenski's voice now drawled from behind. "We're getting low, anyway. It was right for him to fill the bags this morning, though very kind of you to offer "
"It seems to say," he told the lens-maker, "'I was this at one time, and now I must go." Orders came for Samarc and Spenski, but they were not to be remotely stationed, since their battery was assigned to Kohlvihr's division a different camp but the same field.
The day had risen and Samarc awakened, when a strange orderly entered the ward, and came leisurely to the cot where Peter sat: "What have you here?" "A shrapnel wound in the face." The orderly looked under the cot for the uniform, as if to determine Samarc's place and rank. "Where's the blouse?" he asked. "It was covered with blood," said Peter. "They took it away." "What branch of the service?"
And Big Belt's eyes roved to Dabnitz, who apparently had not heard Peter's remark. ...And now the tugging from Samarc that meant words! It seemed as if a ghastly stillness prepared for that final rumble; certainly stillness followed it. All eyes turned, even Kohlvihr's, to the effigy. But Peter alone understood. "...Don't let them take off the bandages."
Now Peter saw none but Spenski, until Samarc reached him, lifted, called. Peter saw the body raised from the ground to Samarc's arms saw the little man's body open upon his friend like a melon that has rotted underneath. All went black for Peter. The slope rose up and took him.
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