The Road Back by Erich Maria Remarque

shine; the wheels thunder the rhythm; we sing and sing—
    I am wedged between Ludwig and Kosole and feel their warmth penetrating my tunic. I move my hands, turn my head; my muscles brace themselves and a shiver mounts from my knees to my belly; a ferment like sherbet in my bones, it rises, foams up into my lungs, my lips, my eyes; the carriage swims; it sings in me as a telegraph pole in a storm, thousands of wires twanging, thousands of roads opening—Slowly I put my hand on Ludwig's hand, and feel that it must burn: but when he looks up, worn and pale as ever, all I can drag out of what is surging within me is merely to stammer: "Have you a cigarette, Ludwig?"
    He gives me one. The train whistles, we go on singing. A more ominous rumble than the rattle of the wheels gradually mingles with our songs, and in a pause there comes a mighty crash that travels rolling in long reverberations over the plain. Clouds have gathered; a thunderstorm bursts. The flashes of lightning dazzle like close gun-fire. Kosole stands in the window and shakes his head. "Now for another sort of thunderstorm!" he mutters and leans far out. "Quick! see! there she is!" he suddenly cries.
    We press round. At the limit of the land in the glare of the lightning the tall, slender towers of the city pierce the sky. Then darkness closes over them again in thunder, but with every flash they come nearer.
    Our eyes shine with excitement. Expectancy has suddenly shot up amongst us, over us, within us, like a giant beanstalk.
    Kosole gropes for his things. "Oh, boys," says he, stretching his arms, "where shall we all be sitting a year hence, I wonder."
    "On our backsides," suggests Jupp apprehensively. But no one is laughing now. The city has sprung upon us, gathered us to herself. There she lies panting under the wild light, outstretched, inviting. And we are coming to her— a trainload of soldiers, a trainload of home-coming out of the limbo of nothingness, a trainload of tense expectancy, nearer and nearer. The train tears along; the walls leap out against us, in a moment we will collide; flashes of lightning, the thunder roars—Then the station rises up on both sides of the carriage, seething with noise and cries; a pelting rain is falling; the platform gleams with the wet. Heedless, we jump out into it all.
    As I spring out of the door the dog follows. He presses close after me and together we run through the rain down the steps.

PART II
    1.

    I n front of the station we scatter like a bucket of water pitched out on the pavement. Kosole sets off at a sharp pace with Bröger and Trosske down Heinrich Street. With Ludwig I turn rapidly into Station Avenue. Without wasting any time in farewells Ledderhose and his rag-and-bone shop have already gone like a shot: and Tjaden gets Willy to describe briefly the shortest route to the mollshop. Jupp and Valentin alone have any leisure. No one is awaiting their arrival, so they take a preliminary saunter round the station on the off chance of finding some grub. They intend later on to go to the barracks.
    Water is dripping from the trees along Station Avenue; clouds trail low and drive swiftly over. Some soldiers of the latest class to be called up approach us. They are wearing red armbands. "Off with his shoulder-straps!" yells one, making a grab at Ludwig.
    "Shut your mouth, you war-baby!" I say, as I shove him off.
    Others press in and surround us. Ludwig looks calmly at the foremost of them and goes on his way. The fellow steps aside. Then two sailors appear and rush at him.
    "You swine! can't you see he's wounded?" I shout, flinging off my pack to get freer play with my hands. But Ludwig is down already; what with the wound in his arm he is as good as defenceless. The sailors trample on him, rip at his uniform. "A lieutenant!" screeches a woman's voice. "Kick him to death, the dirty blood hound!"
    Before I can come to his assistance I get a blow in the face that makes me stagger. "You son of a bitch!" I cough