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Updated: May 11, 2025
"Did you become an officer?" "No, fraulein, only a 'vize-Feldwebel." "Have you fought in a battle?" "Oh, yes, at Burkersdork, Skalitz, Koniginhof, and Koniggratz." "That must have been frightfully interesting. And have you ever killed one of the enemy?" "Happily not. It does not fall to the lot of every soldier to kill a man. He does his duty if he stands up in his place ready to be killed."
One morning accordingly, I was finishing Vize-Feldwebel Spat's dressing, and whistling something at random. I was looking at his leg, and was paying no attention to his face, when I suddenly became curiously aware that the look he had fixed upon me had changed in quality, and I raised my eyes.
And always something beside me murmurs, mutely: "You see, you see, he was wrong when he said he would rather die." I am convinced of it, and this is why I have told your story. You will forgive me, won't you, Leglise, my friend? Every morning the stretcher-bearers brought Vize-Feldwebel Spat down to the dressing ward, and his appearance always introduced a certain chill in the atmosphere.
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