Armageddon In Retrospect by Kurt Vonnegut Read Free Book Online

find skulls and all. Something big must of happened over there.”
    “Something big happened all through here,” I told him.
    “This here’s a very famous battlefield from the World War. This here’s where the Americans whipped the Germans. Poritsky told me.”
    “Two of them skulls got shrapnel in ’em,” Earl said. “You seen them ?”
    “Nope,” I said.
    “Shake ’em, and you can hear the shrapnel rattle around inside,” Earl said. “You can see the holes where the shrapnel went in.”
    “You know what they should ought to do with them poor skulls?” I asked him. “They should ought to get a whole slew of chaplains from ever religion there is. They should ought to give them poor skulls a decent funeral, and bury them someplace where they won’t never be bothered again.”
    “It ain’t like they was people any more,” Earl said.
    “It ain’t like they wasn’t never people,” I said. “They gave up their lives so our fathers and our grandfathers and our great-grandfathers could live. The least we can do is treat their poor bones right.”
    “Yeah, but wasn’t some of them trying to kill our great-great-grandfathers or whoever it was?” Earl said.
    “The Germans thought they was improving things,” I said. “Everbody thought they was improving things. Their hearts was in the right place,” I said. “It’s the thought that counts.”
    The canvas curtain at the top of the tunnel opened up, and Captain Poritsky come down from outside. He was taking his time, like there wasn’t nothing out there worse’n a warm drizzle.
    “Ain’t it kind of dangerous, going out there, sir?” I asked him. He didn’t have to go out there. There was tunnels running from everwheres to everwheres, and wasn’t nobody supposed to go outside while the barrage was on.
    “Ain’t this a rather dangerous profession we picked of our own free will, soldier?” he asked me. He put the back of his hand under my nose, and I seen there was a long cut across it. “Shrapnel!” he said. He grinned, and then he stuck the cut in his mouth and sucked it.
    Then, after he’d drunk enough blood to hold hisself a while, he looked me and Earl up and down. “Soldier,” he said to me, “where’s your bayonet?”
    I felt around my belt. I’d done forgot my bayonet.
    “Soldier, what if the enemy was to all of a sudden drop in?” Poritsky done a dance like he was gathering nuts in May. “‘Sorry, fellows—you wait right here while I go get my bayonet.’ That what you’d say, soldier?” he asked me.
    I shook my head.
    “When the chips are down, a bayonet is a soldier’s best friend,” Poritsky said. “That’s when a professional soldier is happiest, on account of that’s when he gets to close with the enemy. Ain’t that so?”
    “Yes, sir,” I said.
    “You been collecting skulls, soldier?” Poritsky said.
    “No, sir,” I said.
    “Wouldn’t hurt you none to take it up,” Poritsky said.
    “No, sir,” I said.
    “There’s a reason why ever one of ’em died, soldier,” Poritsky said. “They wasn’t good soldiers! They wasn’t professionals! They made mistakes! They didn’t learn their lessons good enough!”
    “Reckon not, sir,” I said.
    “Maybe you think maneuvers is tough, soldier, but they ain’t near tough enough,” Poritsky said. “If I was in charge, everbody’d be out there taking that bombardment. Only way to get professional outfits is to get ’em blooded.”
    “Blooded, sir?” I said.
    “Get some men killed, so’s the rest can learn!” Poritsky said. “Hell—this ain’t no army! They got so many safety rules and doctors, I ain’t even seen a hangnail for six years. You ain’t going to turn out professionals that way.”
    “No, sir,” I said.
    “The professional has seen everthing, and ain’t surprised by nothing,” Poritsky said. “Well, tomorrow, soldier, you’re going to see real soldiering, the likes of which ain’t been seen for a hundred years. Gas! Rolling