Eight Stories: Tales of War and Loss by Erich Maria Remarque & Larry Wolff

Author:Erich Maria Remarque & Larry Wolff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: American, FIC000000 Fiction / General, Literary Collections, fiction, Short Stories (Single Author), Literary, General
Publisher: NYU Press
Published: 2018-05-29T00:00:00+00:00

4

Josef’s Wife

It was 1919 and the elder tree was already in flower when Corporal Josef Thiedemann came home. Only his wife was with him. She had brought him away herself—she had not taken even the coachman with her.

The whole way the two sat side by side in silence. The gleaming brown backs of the horses before them rocked lightly to and fro. They entered the village street and passed slowly along it. Folk were standing before their houses in the evening sun and occasionally a woman would put her hand on the arm of her husband. But Thiedemann recognized no one—not even his wife or his horses.

He had been buried by a trench mortar in July, 1918, when he was sitting with a few pals in a dugout. It was only the merest chance—a piece of the broken wooden lining of the dugout thrusting obliquely across him—that saved him from being crushed. It was some hours before they could get to him and everyone believed that he must already have been suffocated; but two of the splintered beams had so interlocked that there remained a narrow chink between them through which he was still able to get a little air. That had saved his life.

***

Thiedemann was still conscious when they got him out, and to all outward appearance practically unhurt. He sat apathetically on the ground for a time at the edge of the trench, staring absently at the dead bodies of his comrades. A stretcher-bearer shook him by the shoulder and tried to press a coffee cup with some brandy between his teeth. Then he drew a deep sigh and collapsed.

It appeared that he had suffered a severe shock, and for almost a year he passed from one nerve hospital to another. Then at last his wife had managed to get permission to bring him home.

As the coach turned into the lane leading to the farm and jolted its way across to the shed, Thiedemann straightened himself up. His wife turned pale and held her breath. There were pigs grunting in the sty and the fragrance of the linden trees drifted across. Thiedemann turned his head first this way, now that, as if in search of something. But then he sank down again and continued listless, even when his mother came in as he sat at table. He ate what was set before him and afterward made a tour of the house. He found his way everywhere, knew exactly where the cattle were kept, and where the bedroom was. But he recognized nothing. The dog, which at first had sniffed him excitedly, afterward lay down by the stove and whimpered. It did not lick his hands or jump up upon him.

***

During the first few weeks Thiedemann sat much alone in the warm sun beside the barn. He paid no heed to anyone and was left to do as he liked. He often suffered at night from attacks of suffocation. Then he would leap up and strike out about him and scream.

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