The Washington times., 1931-11-23
r. A. uHcro Quiet Z
A Story Of the Aftermath
or the World War
CHAPTER 81

For q while neither speaks.
The wind drones outside the
windows. Rahe walks with
great strides about Ludwig's
little room, and it really does
seem as II he doesn't belong
here within these walls Of books
and quietness and work; his
clean-cut, keen features seem
to be in place only over field
grey uniform, as though they
belonged to trenches and fight
ing and war. He props his
arms on the table and leans
over toward Ludwig. The lamp
light falls on his shoulder
straps and behind him glitter
the quartzes in the collection
Of stones.
'"What are we doing here,
Ludwig?" he says deliberately.
"Look about you. How slack!
How helpless 1t all is! We are
q burden to ourselves and to
everyone else. Our ideals are
bankrupt, our dreams shat
tered; and we just run about
In this world of earnest, pur-
poseful people and profit-mong-
ers like so many Don Quixotes
let loose in . strange land"
Ludwig looked at him awhile
''It's my idea that we're sick,
Georg. We have the war in
our bones still"
Rahe mods. Eyes, and we'll
never get it out again!"
Don't you believe it!" re-
torts Ludwig. ELSE it will all
have been in vain"
Rahe crashes his fist down
on the table. "It was in vain,
Ludwig-that's just what makes
me mad! Think what men we
were when we marched away
IN that storm of enthusiasm!
It seemed as if a new age had
dawned-all the old things, the
rotten, the compromising, the
partisan, all swept away. We
were young then, as men were
never young before!"
Trembling Hands
He takes a lump of crystal
from Ludwig'S stone collection
and holds it like a hand gren-
ade. His hands are trembling,
'I have been in many dugouts,
ludwig" he goes on. "And we
were all young men who sat
there around one miserable
SluSh lamp, waiting, while the
barrage ragged overhead like an
earthquake. We were none Of
your inexperienced ecruitS,
either; we knew well enough
what we were waiting for and
we knew what would come.
But there was more in those
faces down in the gloom there
than mere calm, more than
good humor, more than just
readiness to die. There was
the will to another future in
those hard, set faces; and it
was there when they charged,
and still thers when they died.
We had less to say for ourselves
year b. year, we shed many
things, but that one thing still
remained. And now, Ludwig,
where is it now? Can't you
see how it is periShing in all
this pigs wash Of order, duty,
women, routine. punctuality
and the rest Of it that here
they call life? No, Ludwig, we
lived then! And you tell me a
thousand times that you hate
war, yet I still say, we lived
then. We lived, because we
were together, and because
something burned in us that
was more than this whole muck
heap here!"
Time To Be Redeemed
He lis breathing hard. 1T
must have been for something,
Ludwig! When I first heard
there was revolution, for one
brief moment thought: Now
the Time Will De reoeeImeQ-
now the flood will pour back,
tearing down the old things,
digging new banks for itself
and, by heaven, would have
been in it! But the flood
broke up into a thousand run
nels; the revolution became a
mere scramble for jobs, for
big jobs and little jobs. It
has trickled away, it has been
damned up, it has been drained
off into business, into family,
and party. But that will not
do for me. I'm going where
comradeship is still to be
found"
Ludwig stands up. His brow
1S flaming, his eyes blaze. He