(At one bed the sergeant conducts saluting exercises. At another a padre is administering the sacraments.)
(Change of scene.)
Scene 42
Optimist and Grumbler in conversation.
OPTIMIST Everyone is asking: “What have we achieved in Albania?”—
GRUMBLER —I can answer that: an epidemic of malaria.
OPTIMIST Is there nothing else in Albania for us?
GRUMBLER Oh yes there is: typhus.
OPTIMIST But down there—
GRUMBLER —conditions are terrible.
OPTIMIST But Albania served us mainly as—
GRUMBLER —a penal colony. “Send ’em to Albania!” was an aggravated form of the honour of dying for one’s country.
OPTIMIST The invasion of Albania makes one thing certain—
GRUMBLER Death.
OPTIMIST Among our troops in Albania — the name Pflanzer-Baltin says it all—
GRUMBLER —since soldiers died in vast numbers.
OPTIMIST It’s well known we had major political interests in Albania, and apart from that—
GRUMBLER —bug-ridden huts as barracks.
OPTIMIST But our officers in Scutari had very good billets, apparently, and they were known for—
GRUMBLER —whoring.
OPTIMIST As for hygiene in Albania, of which you paint such a black picture, I’m told that, on the contrary, the field hospitals were empty.
GRUMBLER Because those with malaria were left to die without treatment.
OPTIMIST On the contrary, the chief medical officer of Army Group Albania protested strongly against—
GRUMBLER —having his patients evacuated for the summer.
OPTIMIST But he was known for having healthy soldiers—
GRUMBLER —shot out of hand for stealing tins of preserved food.
OPTIMIST At any rate, arrangements were made—
GRUMBLER —for a field cinema, for officers.
OPTIMIST The evacuation of patients you mentioned did actually take place, though only—
GRUMBLER —when we were forced to flee.
OPTIMIST You mean the strategic withdrawal. As for the means of transport employed, it was admittedly difficult, given the huge numbers of the sick—
GRUMBLER —to make provision for them, though they hadn’t existed before.
OPTIMIST But since the few hospital ships were inadequate for the evacuation, by requisitioning automobiles we managed—
GRUMBLER —to transport the baggage of the officers in the High Command.
OPTIMIST How do you mean?
GRUMBLER I mean the stolen furniture.
OPTIMIST Ah, yes. But the sick troops—
GRUMBLER —had to march through the mud and dirt.
OPTIMIST But they were permitted—
GRUMBLER —to remain lying by the roadside, for a prolonged rest.
OPTIMIST That was the exception, unless—
GRUMBLER —unless it marked the Emperor’s birthday or an anniversary of his coming to power. For otherwise the retreat of an Austrian army, specifically an Albanian nightmare with thousands of horrific deaths from starvation or in the mud, tends to be linked with a certain dynastic date — as if it weren’t one such date itself.
OPTIMIST How so?
GRUMBLER Since the siege of Belgrade, Austrian generals have felt the need to lay at the Emperor’s feet not only their own criminal stupidity, but also some town they’ve captured, only to vacate it again the following morning.
OPTIMIST You don’t seem to be aware that such red-letter days in our national history provide both incentives and compensations for the front-line soldier’s sacrificial courage. If, as events unfold, shortages of transport facilities, refreshment posts, board, and lodgings should occur — well, war is war! — and still you can’t deny—
GRUMBLER —that the personal baggage train of the army commander consisted of 25 truckloads, under the supervision of a captain.
OPTIMIST How do we know that?
GRUMBLER From the diary of a doctor who returned from Albania after finding that no sick men arrived at his hospital, even though everyone was ill.
OPTIMIST It can’t have been so bad if he got out himself. How did he get back?
GRUMBLER With high fever, in a truck, on top of the crate containing the piano from the officers’ mess, stolen from a certain—
OPTIMIST Well, even I may sadly have to admit that events have provided a discouraging answer to the question “What have we achieved in Albania?” But we undoubtedly have major political interests there, and you should surely never forget: What the staff officer retains to the very last is—
GRUMBLER His piano!
(Change of scene.)
Scene 43
War press quarters.
A CAPTAIN (to one of the journalists) Now laddie, I want no beating about the bush, today you’re going to write an article, a real humdinger — Observations on the State of Hygiene. So here are some guidelines. (He reads out) “The victorious campaign in Galicia, with the capture of Lemberg, contributed to the continuing improvement of hygiene in our army.” What are you gawking at?!
JOURNALIST So in Lemberg we’re still holding on — again?
CAPTAIN How you spin it is your affair. “While the hectic struggle was being waged in the Carpathians, there was naturally less scope for an organized hygienic effort focusing on detail. Given the heavy pressure exerted by the general situation, the individual soldier could not receive as much attention as we might have wished. ‘Hold out to the end!’ was the watchword — without regard for the individual soldier, who matters at the front only as long as he’s fighting. That was how it had to be in those difficult times. They were all lice-ridden! Now that we’ve our heads above water, we can turn to hygiene and set an example in how to implement it. In those hard times the seed was sown, the fruits of which, on a vast scale, will help sustain the vigorous manhood of all who had fought so hard and suffered so deeply. That seed came to fruition in the uninhibited, sunlit days after Lemberg had been retaken. The feeling of infinite gratitude for our valiant warriors, our consciousness of the absolute need to be sparing of individual life after such heavy losses, prompted us to employ all powers and means at our disposal to maintain the health and fighting capability of each individual soldier.” At this point you must write about how we got rid of cholera.
“Consequently, across the board, hygienic deliberations and measures were intimately bound up with medical procedures.” Listen to this, now! “The new service offered was delousing! Roughly every four weeks every man was given a bath, or let’s say, every two weeks. This was applied systematically, across the board. Disinfecting was a precautionary measure against infectious diseases transmitted by personal contact.” Brilliant, eh? That’s from a colonel in the medical corps! He knows what’s what! “The regular bath, often spiced up with film shows, had a most salutary moral influence on the troops, raised their fighting capacity and military zeaclass="underline" an important step forward in maintaining vigorous manhood.” I’m only giving you the guidelines, the rest is up to you. But things didn’t stop there. “Over time the front has been developed into a virtual holiday camp. Often the men found themselves in sunny, wooded countryside, they could swim and sun themselves, and there were plans to add educational instruction and music, a library, sport, and theatre — all of which would have presented an opportunity to familiarize the still sensitive and receptive soldier’s soul with important hygienic problems as a preparation for the social tasks of the future. The project still awaits implementation! When the times become calmer, that will be our priority.” You’ve got to really bring that out! It’s obvious that these measures are partly intended to create a feeling of home for the man at the front. The constantly caring, comradely contact between officers, doctors, and men creates a favourable climate in which all can flourish.