I become faint, all at once I cannot do any more. I won’t revile any more, it is senseless, I could drop down and never rise up again.

We are by Kemmerich’s bed. He is dead. The face is still wet from the tears. The eyes are half open and yellow like old horn buttons. The orderly pokes me in the ribs, “Are you taking his things with you?” I nod.

He goes on: “We must take him away at once, we want the bed. Outside they are lying on the floor.”

I collect Kemmerich’s things, and untie his identification disc. The orderly asks about the paybook. I say that it is probably in the orderly-room, and go. Behind me they are already hauling Franz on to a waterproof sheet.