From some of them trousers are hanging to dry. The rooms are cool and one looks toward them longingly.
O dark, musty platoon huts, with the iron bedsteads, the chequered bedding, the lockers and the stools! Even you can become the object of desire; out here you have a faint resemblance to home; your rooms, full of the smell of stale food, sleep, smoke, and clothes!
Katczinsky paints it all in lively colours. What would we not give to be able to go back to it! But we must not pursue that line of thought any further. Those early morning hours of instruction—“What are the parts of the 98 rifle?”—the midday hours of physical training—“Pianist, forward! By the right, quick march. Report to the cook-house for potato-peeling.”
We indulge in reminiscences. Kropp laughs suddenly and says “Change at Löhne!”
That was our corporal’s favourite game. Löhne is a railway junction. In order that our fellows going on leave shouldn’t get lost there, Himmelstoss used to practise the change in the barrack-room. We had to learn that at Löhne, to reach the branch-line, we must pass through a subway. The beds represented the subway and each man stood at attention on the
41
