Kaputt by Curzio Malaparte Page B

machines also have a country; that boots also have a country; a far better country than ours. They are peasants, and they do not even know what being peasants means; the Bratianu law has given the land to a horse, to a cow, to a sheep. They only know that they are Romanian and Greek Orthodox. They shout "Long Live the King!"; they shout "Long live Marshal Antonescu!"; they shout "Down with the U.S.S.R.!" But they do not know what the King is, what Marshal Antonescu is, what the U.S.S.R. is. They know that a pair of boots such as these are worth two thousand lei at least. They are poor peasants, and they do not know that the U.S.S.R. is a machine; that they are fighting a machine, a thousand machines, a million machines. But a pair of boots like these is worth two thousand lei at least, if not more.
    "Marshal Antonescu," I said, "has a pair of boots, a hundred pair of boots far better than these."
    The soldiers gazed fixedly at me and drew in their lips.
    "A hundred pair?" asked the corporal.
    "A hundred, a thousand pair," I replied, "far better than these. Haven't you ever seen Marshal Antonescu's boots? They are very beautiful. Of yellow leather, black leather, red leather, white leather; cut in the English style with a rosette below the knee. They are beautiful. Marshal Antonescu's boots are more beautiful than those of Hitler or Mussolini. Hitler's boots are fine enough. I have looked at them closely. I have never spoken to Hitler, but I have looked at his boots from very near. They are spurless. Hitler never wears spurs, he is afraid of horses; but even without spurs, they are fine enough. Also Mussolini's boots are fine, but they are useless. They are not fit for walking or riding. They are only fit for standing in the grandstand, during a parade, and watching soldiers with torn shoes and rusty rifles march by."
    The soldiers drawing in their lips gazed fixedly at me.
    "After the war," I said, "we shall go and pull off Marshal Antonescu's boots."
    "Also Domnule Hitler's," said a soldier.
    "Also Domnule Mussolini's," said another.
    "Certainly, also Mussolini's and Hitler's," I said. They all began laughing, and I asked the corporal, "How much do you think Hitler's boots are worth?"
    They all ceased laughing, and suddenly, I don't know why, they turned to look at the prisoner who crouched in his corner and gazed at me with his veiled slanting eyes.
    "Did you give him something to eat?" I asked the corporal.
    " Yes , Domnule Capitan "
    "That's not true. You did not give him anything to eat," I said.
    The corporal took a bowl from the table, then filled it with ciorba de pui, and passed it to the prisoner.
    "Give him a spoon," I said, "he cannot eat soup with his hands."
    The soldiers gazed at the corporal as he took a spoon from the table, cleaned it by rubbing it with his hands and offered it to the prisoner.
    "Ochen spassibo —Many thanks," said the prisoner.
    "La dracu!" exclaimed the corporal, which means "to the devil."
    "What are you going to do with the prisoner?" I asked.
    "We have to take him to Balta," replied the corporal, "but nobody goes by here; we are off the beaten track; we shall have to walk him there. If no truck passes today, we shall take him to Balta tomorrow, on foot."
    "It would be quicker to kill him, don't you think?" I asked the corporal gazing at him. All burst out laughing, watching the corporal.
    "No, Domnule Capitan," replied the corporal blushing slightly. "I cannot. The orders are to bring at least one prisoner to headquarters when we capture any. No, Domnule Capitan."
    "If you take him on foot, you'll have to give him his boots back. No one can walk barefoot as far as Balta."
    "Oh, he can walk barefoot as far as Bucharest," said the corporal laughing.
    "If you like, I'll take him to Balta in my car. Give me a soldier as an escort and I will take him with me."
    The corporal looked pleased; the other soldiers also looked pleased.
    "You'll go, Grigoreseu," said the corporal.
    Private