At Christmas the greater number of the "old gang" went on leave. For those who remained behind there was a tree in the large Room VII., with something on it for every one; a penknife, a cigarette holder, or a wooden pipe, together with a few cigars; but Listing, who could not even yet be got to wash himself properly, received a large piece of soap with his cigars. At the same time a big barrel of lager-beer was broached.

But before the battery Christmas-tree most of the men had had a special rejoicing of their own. The orderly had had the precaution to take a small hand-cart with him to the post-office, and had brought it back full of boxes and packages. Then the men stood round the sergeant-major, and each one p.r.i.c.ked up his ears to hear whether there was anything for him.

Klitzing had moved aside, he had nothing to expect. Suddenly his name was called. There was a small box for him, and it was not very light either when he took it in his hand. He thought it must be a mistake, but there were his name and address sure enough: "Gunner Heinrich Klitzing, 6th Battery, 80th Regiment, Eastern Division, Field Artillery." He looked at the label, the sender was Friedrich August Vogt; and on the back was written, "To my boy's best friend, for Christmas!"

The clerk went to Room IX. and showed the label to Vogt, who was already unpacking his parcel. Klitzing could say nothing; he could only press his friend's hand, while tears stood in his eyes.

But Vogt shouted cheerfully: "I say! the old man has done finely! Let's see what else there is."

And when they compared their gifts--sausages, Christmas fare, and warm woollen underclothing--it looked almost as though his father had given more presents to his friend than to himself. At the bottom he found a letter from the old man:

"My Dear Boy,--Herewith are a few trifles for you for Christmas. I think I shall have done as you would wish by sending half of what I intended for you to your friend and comrade, Klitzing, of whom you are always writing to me. You know I was an orphan myself, and I can understand his feelings. I had my dear sister; but he has n.o.body. So a merry Christmas to you! and keep well and hearty.

"Your loving father, "FRIEDRICH AUGUST VOGT."

Frielinghausen also had a letter, which he read with streaming eyes and a glowing face. He held his mother's pardon in his hands, and the love which trembled in her words poured balm and healing on his heart, and raised his desponding spirits.

He was another man after this Christmas Eve. Duties which before had been a burden to him, which he had, besides, despised, he now performed willingly and zealously.

If now Wegstetten inquired about him, Corporal Wiegandt always answered, "He could not be doing better, sir."

The captain took an opportunity of praising him; and when he had finished, Frielinghausen, his face quite red with pride and joy, remained standing before him.

Wegstetten asked, "Well, is there anything you want to ask me?"

The tall youth choked a bit over his reply, but finally he got it out: "Pardon me, sir--I don't know whether my request is in order--but, sir, if you would have the goodness to write to my mother and tell her that you are satisfied with me?"

Wegstetten was silent with astonishment. The request did seem a little unusual and unmilitary; but he consented, and wrote to "The high and well-born Baroness von Frielinghausen" a letter over which a mother might well rejoice.

It seemed the more terrible for Frielinghausen when in February, after the examination of the recruits, he received a telegram briefly announcing his mother's death.

Work became lighter for the recruits after the examination. Certainly the battery foot-drill and gun-drill was no joke; but things went more quietly than they had done during the wild rush of the training, and between-whiles one had occasionally time to take breath.

And now the recruits were gradually allotted their respective duties.

Horses to look after were given to the young drivers and to some of the gunners. Vogt, Klitzing, and Weise, however, were not among these.

Corporal Wiegandt, who had been promoted to sergeant after the examination, and had been put in charge of the guns and waggons of the battery, knew them for industrious, trustworthy fellows, just such as he needed to a.s.sist him.

The recruits were also being trained in sentry-duty; though this was not made very much of. The field-artillery would never be put on sentry-duty in time of war; gunners only equipped with swords and revolvers would not be sufficiently armed for that work; for it the infantry, or in case of necessity the cavalry, must be responsible.

So all that was necessary was easily learnt, and in the peaceful garrison-town it was merely a question of guarding the official buildings.

However, Vogt felt as if something very important were taking place when he was the first recruit to be put on sentry-duty.

The second-year soldiers, on the other hand, rejoiced over their lazy days. They took things easy, and laughed at the recruits, who adhered conscientiously to every detail of the instructions, and would not take off their uncomfortable swords while sleeping on the hard benches, even after the orderly-officer had inspected them.

Vogt was posted inside the back gate of the barracks, through which the road led towards the riding-school on one side, and straight on to the wood on the slope of the hill. The first two hours from five to seven o'clock in the after noon seemed to him terribly wearisome and purposeless; but during the night from eleven to one o'clock he felt stimulated by the sense of responsibility. The sentries were then locked outside, and had to patrol two sides of the great quadrangle surrounded by the public offices.

The night was pitch dark, so that Vogt was unable to distinguish his narrow path. But he stumbled bravely up and down by the buildings for his two hours. Even if he often missed his footing, it was better than standing still. For then one heard all kinds of strange noises, the cause of which could not be perceived in the baffling darkness. The forest was never quite silent; there were always cracklings and rustlings from its boughs and bushes. But in going the rounds these things went unheard in the noise of one's own footsteps; and one pa.s.sed the quarters in which comrades were sleeping, and the stables, whose dimly-lighted windows showed small squares in the night, and one could indistinctly hear the rattling of the halter chains.

When Vogt went into the dormitory from the fresh, pure, night air he thought at first that he would choke in the atmosphere laden with stale tobacco-smoke and foul odours; but in the end he slept splendidly, despite his hard bed.

At five o'clock he was again on sentry-go. It was still dark, but there was already movement in the kitchen and the stables. At the gate there was a delay; the watch about to be relieved was nowhere to be found.

The bombardier in charge cursed and swore unavailingly; finally, he consented to the suggestion of the others and organised a search. In a small shed, which served for the storing of hurdles and such-like, the gunner was discovered fast asleep. He had covered himself up with straw, and his sword lay by his side. The bombardier kicked him in the ribs with his heavy boots, and stormed at the rashness of such conduct, when at any moment an officer might come by.

But the sentry, a tall, strong fellow, answered crossly, "Shut your mouth, you stupid swine! And if you dare to report me I'll break every bone in your body!"

The bombardier grumbled something about "not going too far and getting into trouble."

"Any one might happen to fall asleep," continued the gunner. He yawned a few times, brushed the dust off his uniform, and said laughingly to Vogt: "It is nothing unusual on sentry-duty, you raw b.o.o.by of a recruit! Nothing for you to gape about!"

And he walked off solemnly behind the bombardier.

Vogt stood thoughtfully beside the sentry-box. That was pretty bad discipline! At the same time the case was quite clear: if the bombardier reported the sentry, then the latter would naturally be punished, and severely too; but he would certainly revenge himself on the bombardier. Despite the b.u.t.tons on his collar, the bombardier was not technically superior to the gunner; it would only bring about a quarrel, and in a fight it would certainly be the bombardier who would come off worst. It was quite the rule for the men to stick loyally together, and never expose a comrade if it could possibly be avoided.

Vogt, however, considered that there was a limit to comradeship, and that the sentry ought to have been punished. For in such ways respect was lost for other still more important rules. And, finally, he congratulated himself on having nothing to do with the matter.

This morning, for the first time for weeks, the memory of his home and the longing for it overwhelmed him.

He thought of how at home in the early days of the year he and his father had finished preparing the fields for the spring cultivation. He remembered how the young sun, in those fresh morning hours, had seemed to caress the long-deserted wintry earth with his kindling rays; and the black soil turned up by the harrow had exhaled a refreshing odour as of incense offered by nature's maternal heart. The daily increasing heat of the sun, the milder air, and the grateful receptivity of earth: all betokened the end of idle winter and the beginning of a new year of fruitfulness, the gospel of labour and of blessing. The ardent forces of nature welled up also in the hearts of men; and though his father had seemed to him old in the short cold days of winter, the scent of spring-time always made him young again.

He almost felt like a deserter not to be at home working. But no! the contrary was really the case. It was these thoughts that were disloyal.

Was he not now a soldier, called to protect the soil of his beloved fatherland, if an enemy threatened it?

If----? he reflected further. There had been peace for thirty years now, and it might quite well last thirty more, or even a hundred. Was not this, then, mere waste of time? But, on the other hand, there was nothing to prevent a war breaking out to-morrow. He knew that it was improbable, but not impossible. The devil! then of course war must be prevented. But how?

His simple mind saw no solution of these contradictions. He gazed contemplatively at his sentry-box, and almost omitted to present arms to his captain, who was pa.s.sing to the riding-school with the remount division.

After being relieved he watched two comrades who were playing at _skat_ in the guard-room with dreadfully dirty cards. Suddenly he had a kind of waking vision. It was like the taking of the oath, when each man stretched out an arm to swear. The tattooed letters on Weise's arm, where the sleeve had slipped off, began suddenly to glow as brightly and clearly as if the sun were shining on them. Fraternity! that was not merely an empty word, then, not simply talk? If all men, Germans, French, Russians, and all others, stretched forth their arms and swore to be brothers, then--yes, then--there would be no more war.

But would that ever happen?

The card-players brought his reflections on the question of fraternity to a hasty close; they began to quarrel furiously, and wound up by throwing the cards at each other's heads in a very unbrotherly manner.

The recruit had to pick up the scattered cards, and when a king and a ten were missing there was nearly a fight. Finally the corporal in charge angrily stopped the noise.

When Vogt returned from his sentry-duty between eleven and one, he found his comrade Klitzing singularly depressed, and after a time the clerk confided to him that he had been very unlucky all the day before.

"You see, Franz," he said, "I can't get on at all without you. If you are my neighbour at foot-drill, I know just where I am. But yesterday you were absent, and I was a regular blockhead. Just because of me the drill lasted nearly an hour longer than usual."

"Well, now I shall be back again," Vogt replied.

Klitzing continued: "Yes, but this morning it was the same thing; and after drill the deputy sergeant-major said that slack fellows like me should be given a lesson by the other men, and so----"

Here he was silent, and nothing more could be got out of him, so that Vogt was quite angry over this lack of confidence.

By and by the fat brewer (who, however, was no longer fat) joined them, and said: "Well, mate, aren't you a bit dense to-day? The 'old gang,'

especially the drivers, mean to be at him, to do for him, all because of that little bit of extra drill."