A VOLUNTEER In the telephone cabin there is a book by Otto Ernst. Sunshine dapples its pages. I got such pleasure from reading you, indeed all morning I felt such a joyful glow that I need an outlet for all the exuberance of spring coursing through my veins. Run off somewhere, run into the forest, run into the world, that’s what I would like to do! Damn it all! That’s what I would like to do if I weren’t bound to my post! So, what to do? Sing! Perfect, that always helps! Can’t think right off what best to holler, though. Then in a flash — inspiration! — lickety-spit, there’s a message-pad! Pencil at the ready — Otto Ernst shall hear from me, a salutation! Good morning, Otto Ernst! Do you know you are an old, old acquaintance of mine? Yes, indeed, young-at-heart as you shall ever be!
(A major-general appears.)
OFFICER IN CHARGE OF CENSORSHIP Ah, you too, General?
MAJOR-GENERAL (reads) Yesterday I was uplifted by your “Christmas Celebration.” Unfortunately I was unable to find out from your books whether — when you need to refresh yourself for your writing — you do so with red wine or white? (Laughter.) Given your splendid traits of character and your humour, I’d guess (as a Mecklenburger!!) red wine! But one thing I do know: If there are sofas in heaven, there’s a seat there reserved for you!
(More and more officers and soldiers from all branches of service appear.)
OFFICER IN CHARGE OF CENSORSHIP OK, that’s it for now, chaps. Tomorrow’s another day!
(Change of scene.)
Scene 32
A quiet poet’s retreat in the Styrian Woods.
FIRST ADMIRER OF KERNSTOCK Ssh — quiet — there he is, sitting lost in thought—
SECOND ADMIRER OF KERNSTOCK It’s from here he sends forth his songs throughout the land, songs uniquely powerful yet also sensuous and often indescribably tender, songs—
FIRST Y’know, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he wasn’t about to—
SECOND That’s my impression, too. Hush! All who sit at his feet, kindled by his flame, shall become keepers of that flame, and in times to come spread it a thousandfold into the hearts of a new generation for them to absorb the mysteries that this one man has fathomed, working decade after decade in the isolation of his castle amidst the murmurs of the forest.
FIRST Truly, Festenburg’s parish priest is a man with the gift of a fiery tongue who knows how to celebrate God’s world in all its living beauty. Shush!
SECOND Pst — something seems to have come over him. A poem? A prayer?
KERNSTOCK (murmurs)
Thy people, Lord, are sore afraid,
The haughty foreign horde
Harasses them with wanton wiles,
Brings death by fire and sword.
FIRST Oh, I recognize that. It’s the “Prayer Before Battle with the Huns”, isn’t it?
KERNSTOCK (murmurs)
Who once didst sacrifice Thy son,
Oh Lord, now save us from the Hun!
Kyrie eleison!
SECOND No wonder he accepted when he was summoned to Vienna. His priestly calling is true nobility, it’s inevitable he shall also make the most profound and lasting impression on those of his young followers who hear him speak in person.
KERNSTOCK (murmurs)
The heavenly host provides our shield,
St. Michael leads us in the field.
FIRST Festenburg’s parish priest will surely have hesitated for an instant before exchanging the tranquility of his dreamy poetic seclusion in the Styrian Woods for the din of the metropolis. Just for an instant—
KERNSTOCK (murmurs)
God gave a sign — Th’avenger came
And drew his sword of wrath,
Who fled its bite fared just the same,
The swamps choked them to death.
SECOND But then he must have come to understand the lofty mission opening up to him here, the new ethical and artistic possibilities Vienna offers him to be active in the promotion of culture. And this recognition must soon have prevailed over the enticing murmurs of the pinewoods around the Festenburg.
BOTH Hush!
KERNSTOCK (like a man possessed)
With rifle butts hewn out of Styrian wood
Let lumberjacks cut down the Serbian brood.
Styrian hunters, take aim with care
And shoot down that grizzly Russian bear!
Styrian vintners, cut grapes from the vine
And crush full-bodied Wogs into blood-red wine!
FIRST Not exactly innovative, but it still carries you away every time. The sacred moment has arrived. If we take him at his word and hold out our albums as if we were impressionable young autograph hunters, wouldn’t that be something to treasure for life?!
SECOND Struth! Let’s do it!
(Change of scene.)
Scene 33
At a sector control post.
ALICE SCHALEK When we left the War Press quarters and got up to the lines yesterday, I had an odd experience. Night after night the old men working to bring supplies to the front positions have to cross the field of fire with their pack mules. I was just contemplating the sight when the C.O. interrupted my rapt admiration with a robust exhortation: “You goddamned herd of bullocks! Why can’t you spread out! D’you want a single shell to wipe you all out?” That was not directed at us from the War Press Bureau, of course, but at the old workers, and he apologized at once, for he greeted us with a laugh and the words: “Forgive the lively reception!” However much sympathy one feels for those poor, antiquated heroes, I can only say how dashing and engaging I found the officers. We were met with an unforgettable sight. All the gentlemen were gathered to receive us. Normally, each of them would have hunkered down under cover or be asleep, in any case he would take good care not to go walking around in the open. But because the first war reporter is expected, the gentlemen are all sitting cosily together as if in their favourite tavern, waiting for us. And not only that. They’d waited until we arrived before starting the bombardment, otherwise the retaliatory fire could have made the way up pretty unpleasant for us. That was a welcome course of action, not only for us journalists, but also for the officers who finally had a chance to show themselves in the open, and ultimately for the poor old workers too, who could have undertaken their trek confident that it held no danger — if, that is, they had kept up with the press corps and hadn’t arrived with supplies later than us. Couldn’t one conclude that, with proper planning, all concerned would benefit from a daily visit of the press to front-line positions? The dangers of warfare would be appreciably reduced for officers, for members of the press, and last but not least, for the simple soldier.
(Change of scene.)
Scene 34
Berlin, Tiergarten.
Enter an Exchange Professor and a National-Liberal Reichstag Deputy.
EXCHANGE PROFESSOR We are waging a defensive war. Our Chief of Staff Helmuth von Moltke told an American interviewer that our High Command had never entertained any plans for the predatory military conquest our enemies are always blathering about. How could we have been so irresponsible, he said, as to have sought a war with such superior forces as those of our most powerful military and maritime neighbours!
NATIONAL–LIBERAL DEPUTY Exactly, and we are firmly resolved to extract from this war everything our armies and our Boys in Blue can get out of it, and not to rest until England’s global arrogance has been totally crushed. The moment has now arrived when the result of the war can only be a peace based on the expansion of our borders to the east, to the west, and overseas, with Germany as a world power setting the agenda.