Innocent Soldier (9780545355698) by Josef Holub Read Free Book Online Page B

the two of them probably don’t know who I am, and they’re miles away in any case. Gone. A clean pair of heels. They seem to have had enough of this war and don’t want to accompany Napoleon to Russia. Somewhere in the area of Leipzig, they left their noble master in the lurch, most shamefully. A right pair of dogs.
    So the lieutenant wants me back. Just like that.
    The captain of the cannoneers is produced. Then he and Sergeant Krauter are hissing and trembling with fury. They protest so noisily, with hands and feet, that the lieutenant count stands his Arab menacingly on its hind legs. But never mind what fuss the two of them try to make, none of it’s the least use. Because the lieutenant has in his hand a piece of paper issued by the colonel, allowing him to take the soldier Georg Bayh just like that, without further ado. As his servant. After all, a lieutenant count can’t very well go to war without a servant,especially a war that’s supposed to take place as far away as Russia seems to be.
    Half an hour later, I’m mounted on the second of the splendid Arabs, riding away with my old and new master under the astonished glances of the cannoneers. It’s nothing to do with me, because naturally no one asks me for my preference. Where would that get us anyway, if a common soldier had to be asked whether he’s in agreement with an order or not?
    So I’m able to escape Sergeant Krauter for a second time. I hope for good! Of course, I’m very happy to obey. In fact, I’m so delighted that I feel like flinging myself around the neck of my lieutenant. But I look completely unmoved, just like a good soldier should.
    Straight afterward, another extraordinary thing happens. A farmer’s wife secretly slips me a hunk of bread with roast meat. Me. Not my master. How good people can be, after all! At least, some of them.
    I wonder if I should share it with my lieutenant. Why should I? On the one hand, he got me out of the clutches of the sergeant, but on the other hand, the farmer’s wife meant her gift for me. So I eat it all by myself. But I don’t feel happy doing it. I’m sure my lieutenant is hungry, and I feel selfish and greedy.
    Now I’m charged with currycombing the noble horses again and finding fodder for them. I try to providefor myself and for His Grace, the lieutenant, as well. At the moment, there’s no cook for the officers. Either he’s stuck in the dust, miles back with his kitchen equipment, or else he’s hightailed it, taken his supplies with him, and sold them off.
    Finding food isn’t an easy matter. There’s nothing to be had far and wide, and the many regiments eat the country bare like a million-strong rat pack. There isn’t even anything to be had with money. Often, stealing is the only thing left to do. After all, I have to keep my lieutenant and me alive.
    Every week, I wash his dirty pants and socks. My own as well. But separately. It wouldn’t do to have my things and His Grace’s muddled up while laundering them. Probably on account of the different qualities of dirt. My pants need to dry overnight. In the morning, when I creep out of the hay, I pull them on. I have only the one pair.
    The many regiments are making slow progress at the moment. More are joining us all the time. From every side. My lieutenant tells another lieutenant that not in all the history of the world have there been so many soldiers assembled in one place. But then there has never been another Napoleon, either.
    So here we have half a million men making their way to Russia, and — as if it were the main street of thevillage at home — I walk slap-bang into someone I know. Our cavalry is just passing an infantry regiment on the banks of the Elbe. People call out here and there. I know the accent. So these must be Wurttemburgers. I’m pleased to see them. The poor foot sloggers are shuffling along apathetically in completely done-in boots. I feel so lucky to have landed with the mounted Jagers. There are