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Updated: May 24, 2025
He had no interest in his so-called achievement, regarded it with a laugh, repeated that it was pure accident; but such as it was, he objected to it being used to put the line back into "fighting trim." He was in the large sod-covered pit occupied by field headquarters. He turned at the sound of breathing at his side. Samarc was sitting there. Peter's hand went to his knee.
You might be with Spenski an hour or a week and never know that he was more than just a mechanic if you were just a mechanic." "It's very interesting," said Peter, as charmed with his companion as with the man he talked about. "A little while ago Spenski found his girl, and I would have withdrawn for that is the high test," Samarc resumed.
Spenski would start, open his eyes and say, "Thanks, Samarc." Continual rocking through the long days, and the rumbling of the earth from the artillery forward. A mountain country of sharply cool nights, of cool bright days the scent of cedar and balsam, good water, steady skirmishing food just a bit scarce so that the peasants snapped and bolted, showing sharp about the eyes.
Peter drank hot soup and slept. Next morning it was like a hard problem that one has slept upon and awakened with the process and answer straight-going. It was Peter who took it; and as their hands met, the whole fabric of the man on the cot broke into trembling. They understood. Samarc had been lying there rigid with his tragedy. Peter's touch had been enough to break the dam of his misery.
The two sat by until Samarc slept. They were in the street again, moving close to the walls, for the cavalry was crowding the narrow highway. They crossed finally to a stone-paved area at the side of Judenbach's main building. Their feet were upon the stone flags of this court, when Dabnitz suddenly hurried forward, with a gesture for them to stand back. "Just a moment, my friends," he said.
"And what are we to do about it?" "I thought I would stand by a little not so as to be a nuisance, you know " "Naturally not. Of course." They ate in silence a thousand things to say. "I won't be very far from the staff," said Peter, hurrying back to the hospital. "Poor old Samarc has two wounds, you know " It wasn't a day to explain things not a day to talk.
It was an excellent feast. For five days these two pair had cautiously, timidly even, stood for each other in that reserved way that much-weathered men integrate a memorable friendship.... Samarc returned. They helped him cache his provisions and drew him into the quadrangle around the fire. There was time for an extra pot of tea, and the dawn rose superbly.
To Peter's trained ear the sounds from Samarc were dangerously like, "Fatherland-hell." "A shrapnel splinter struck him in the mouth," he explained. "He says he is ready to take the field." Samarc spoke again. "His blouse is gone," said Peter hastily. "I can manage for him." "Has he a fever?" "I'm afraid so a slight fever." The surgeon turned to the other cot.
Not until now did he think of Samarc.... The reality had stood like a black figure at the door of his brain throughout all the walk, but it did not enter until now. No, Samarc would not come back to Judenbach. It was finished as he had intended. He had ceased to kill.
He was a bit surprised a second after to feel the Russian's neck in his two hands: "None but a beast would take from the stable a horse crippled like that," he was saying. The assistant was but a boy. Peter caught this before lasting damage was done. He left the place half crying, threatening to kill Mowbray later. His superior appeared. Peter smiled at him. Samarc was up, drawing on his clothes.
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