Almost a fortnight passes thus in eating, drinking and roaming about. No one disturbs us. The village gradually vanishes under the shells and we lead a charmed life. So long as any part of the supply dump still stands we don’t worry, we desire nothing better than to stay here till the end of the war.

Tjaden has become so fastidious that he only half smokes his cigars. With his nose in the air he explains to us that he was brought up that way. And Kat is most cheerful. In the morning his first call is: “Emil, bring in the caviar and coffee.” We put on extraordinary airs, every man treats the other as his valet, bounces him and gives him orders. “There is something itching under my foot; Kropp my man, catch that louse at once,” says Leer, poking out his leg at him like a ballet girl, and Albert drags him up the stairs by the foot. “Tjaden!”⁠—“What?”⁠—“Stand at ease, Tjaden; and what’s more, don’t say ‘What,’ say ‘Yes, Sir,’⁠—now: Tjaden!” Tjaden retorts in the well-known phrase from Goethe’s Götz von Berlichingen , with which he is always free.