Part 11 (1/2)

At Christmas the greater number of the ”old gang” went on leave. For those who remained behind there was a tree in the large Room VII., with something on it for every one; a penknife, a cigarette holder, or a wooden pipe, together with a few cigars; but Listing, who could not even yet be got to wash himself properly, received a large piece of soap with his cigars. At the same time a big barrel of lager-beer was broached.

But before the battery Christmas-tree most of the men had had a special rejoicing of their own. The orderly had had the precaution to take a small hand-cart with him to the post-office, and had brought it back full of boxes and packages. Then the men stood round the sergeant-major, and each one p.r.i.c.ked up his ears to hear whether there was anything for him.

Klitzing had moved aside, he had nothing to expect. Suddenly his name was called. There was a small box for him, and it was not very light either when he took it in his hand. He thought it must be a mistake, but there were his name and address sure enough: ”Gunner Heinrich Klitzing, 6th Battery, 80th Regiment, Eastern Division, Field Artillery.” He looked at the label, the sender was Friedrich August Vogt; and on the back was written, ”To my boy's best friend, for Christmas!”

The clerk went to Room IX. and showed the label to Vogt, who was already unpacking his parcel. Klitzing could say nothing; he could only press his friend's hand, while tears stood in his eyes.

But Vogt shouted cheerfully: ”I say! the old man has done finely! Let's see what else there is.”

And when they compared their gifts--sausages, Christmas fare, and warm woollen underclothing--it looked almost as though his father had given more presents to his friend than to himself. At the bottom he found a letter from the old man:

”My Dear Boy,--Herewith are a few trifles for you for Christmas. I think I shall have done as you would wish by sending half of what I intended for you to your friend and comrade, Klitzing, of whom you are always writing to me. You know I was an orphan myself, and I can understand his feelings. I had my dear sister; but he has n.o.body. So a merry Christmas to you! and keep well and hearty.

”Your loving father, ”FRIEDRICH AUGUST VOGT.”

Frielinghausen also had a letter, which he read with streaming eyes and a glowing face. He held his mother's pardon in his hands, and the love which trembled in her words poured balm and healing on his heart, and raised his desponding spirits.

He was another man after this Christmas Eve. Duties which before had been a burden to him, which he had, besides, despised, he now performed willingly and zealously.

If now Wegstetten inquired about him, Corporal Wiegandt always answered, ”He could not be doing better, sir.”

The captain took an opportunity of praising him; and when he had finished, Frielinghausen, his face quite red with pride and joy, remained standing before him.

Wegstetten asked, ”Well, is there anything you want to ask me?”

The tall youth choked a bit over his reply, but finally he got it out: ”Pardon me, sir--I don't know whether my request is in order--but, sir, if you would have the goodness to write to my mother and tell her that you are satisfied with me?”

Wegstetten was silent with astonishment. The request did seem a little unusual and unmilitary; but he consented, and wrote to ”The high and well-born Baroness von Frielinghausen” a letter over which a mother might well rejoice.

It seemed the more terrible for Frielinghausen when in February, after the examination of the recruits, he received a telegram briefly announcing his mother's death.

Work became lighter for the recruits after the examination. Certainly the battery foot-drill and gun-drill was no joke; but things went more quietly than they had done during the wild rush of the training, and between-whiles one had occasionally time to take breath.

And now the recruits were gradually allotted their respective duties.

Horses to look after were given to the young drivers and to some of the gunners. Vogt, Klitzing, and Weise, however, were not among these.

Corporal Wiegandt, who had been promoted to sergeant after the examination, and had been put in charge of the guns and waggons of the battery, knew them for industrious, trustworthy fellows, just such as he needed to a.s.sist him.

The recruits were also being trained in sentry-duty; though this was not made very much of. The field-artillery would never be put on sentry-duty in time of war; gunners only equipped with swords and revolvers would not be sufficiently armed for that work; for it the infantry, or in case of necessity the cavalry, must be responsible.

So all that was necessary was easily learnt, and in the peaceful garrison-town it was merely a question of guarding the official buildings.

However, Vogt felt as if something very important were taking place when he was the first recruit to be put on sentry-duty.

The second-year soldiers, on the other hand, rejoiced over their lazy days. They took things easy, and laughed at the recruits, who adhered conscientiously to every detail of the instructions, and would not take off their uncomfortable swords while sleeping on the hard benches, even after the orderly-officer had inspected them.

Vogt was posted inside the back gate of the barracks, through which the road led towards the riding-school on one side, and straight on to the wood on the slope of the hill. The first two hours from five to seven o'clock in the after noon seemed to him terribly wearisome and purposeless; but during the night from eleven to one o'clock he felt stimulated by the sense of responsibility. The sentries were then locked outside, and had to patrol two sides of the great quadrangle surrounded by the public offices.

The night was pitch dark, so that Vogt was unable to distinguish his narrow path. But he stumbled bravely up and down by the buildings for his two hours. Even if he often missed his footing, it was better than standing still. For then one heard all kinds of strange noises, the cause of which could not be perceived in the baffling darkness. The forest was never quite silent; there were always cracklings and rustlings from its boughs and bushes. But in going the rounds these things went unheard in the noise of one's own footsteps; and one pa.s.sed the quarters in which comrades were sleeping, and the stables, whose dimly-lighted windows showed small squares in the night, and one could indistinctly hear the rattling of the halter chains.

When Vogt went into the dormitory from the fresh, pure, night air he thought at first that he would choke in the atmosphere laden with stale tobacco-smoke and foul odours; but in the end he slept splendidly, despite his hard bed.