The Good Soldier Svejk (15 page)

So they went, but he had to promise them that they would all make one more halt somewhere else. And they stopped at a small café where the fat man sold his silver watch to enable them to continue their spree. When they left there, Schweik led them by the arm. It was a very troublesome job for him. Their feet kept slipping and they were continually evincing a desire for one more round of drinks. The little fat man nearly lost the envelope addressed to the chaplain and so Schweik was compelled to carry it himself. He also had to keep a sharp look-out for officers and N. C. O.'s. After superhuman efforts and struggles, he managed to steer them safely to the house where the chaplain lived. He fixed their bayonets for them, and by pommelling them in the ribs, made them lead him instead of having to lead them.

On the first floor a visiting card bearing the inscription "Otto Katz,
Feldkurat"
²
showed them where the chaplain lived. A soldier opened the door. From within could be heard voices and the clinking of glasses and bottles.

¹
This is quite an efficacious method of getting into hospital. But the smell of the petroleum which remains in the swelling gives the game away. Benzine is better because it evaporates more quickly. Later on, a mixture of ether and benzine was used for this purpose and, later still, other improvements were devised.—Author's note.
²
Army chaplain.

"We—beg—to—report—sir," said the lanky man laboriously in German, and saluting the soldier. "We have—brought—an envelope—and a man."

"In you come," said the soldier. "Where did you manage to get so top-heavy? The chaplain's a bit that way, too." The soldier spat and departed with the envelope.

They waited in the passage for a long time, and at last the door opened and in rushed the chaplain. He was in his shirt sleeves and held a cigar between his fingers.

"So you're here, are you?" he said to Schweik, "and these are the chaps who brought you. I say, got a match?"

"Beg to report, sir, I haven't."

"Here, I say, why not? Every soldier ought to have matches to light up with. A soldier who's got no matches is—What is he?"

"Beg to report, sir, he's without matches," replied Schweik.

"Splendid, he's without matches and can't give anyone a light. Well, that's one thing, and now for the next item on the programme. Do your feet stink, Schweik?"

"Beg to report, sir, they don't stink."

"So much for that. And now the third point. Do you drink brandy?"

"Bag to report, sir, I don't drink brandy, only rum."

"Good. Just have a look at that chap there. I borrowed him for to-day from Lieutenant Feldhuber. He's his batman. And he doesn't drink. He's a tee-tee-tee-totaller and that's why he's been put on a draft. Be-because a man like that's no use to me. He only drinks water and bawls like a bull."

"You're a teetotaller," he said, turning to the soldier. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you bloody fool. For two pins I'd punch you in the jaw."

The chaplain now turned his attention to the men who had escorted Schweik and who, in their endeavour to stand up straight, were wobbling about, vainly trying to prop themselves up with their rifles.

"Y—you're dr-drunk," said the chaplain. "You're drunk while on duty and now you'll be for it. I'll see to that. Schweik, take

their rifles away ; march them off to the kitchen and mount guard over them until the patrol comes for them. I'll tel-tel-telephone at once to the barracks."

And thus Napoleon's saying: "In war the situation changes from one moment to another," was again amply confirmed. In the morning they had escorted him with fixed bayonets to prevent him from giving them the slip ; then he himself had led them along ; and now, here he was, mounting guard over them.

They first became fully aware of this change in the situation when they were sitting in the kitchen and saw Schweik standing at the door with rifle and bayonet.

"I could do with a drink," sighed the little optimistic man, while the lanky fellow again had a fit of skepticism and said that the whole business was a piece of low treachery. He started loudly accusing Schweik of having landed them in their present plight and reproached him for having promised them that he would be hanged the next day. Now they could see that what he had said about the confession and the hanging was all a hoax.

Schweik made no reply but walked to and fro by the door.

"We haven't half got ourselves in a mess," exclaimed the lanky man.

At last, having heard all their accusations, Schweik remarked :

"Now you can see that the army's no picnic. I'm just doing my duty. I got into this just the same as what you did, but fortune smiled on me, as the saying is."

"I could do with a drink," repeated the optimist desperately.

The lanky man stood up and staggered to the door.

"Let's go home, mate," he said to Schweik. "Don't act the fool."

"You go away," said Schweik. "I've got to guard you. We ain't on speaking terms now."

The chaplain suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"I can't get through to the barracks. So you'd better go home and re-remember you mustn't boo-booze when you're on duty. Quick march !"

In fairness to the chaplain it should be added that he had not telephoned to the barracks, for the simple reason that he had no telephone, and was talking to a lamp stand.

II.

Schweik had been the chaplain's orderly for three whole days, and during this period he had seen him only once. On the third day an orderly arrived from Lieutenant Helmich telling Schweik to come and fetch the chaplain.

On the way, the orderly told Schweik that the chaplain had had a row with the lieutenant, had smashed a piano, was dead drunk and refused to go home. Lieutenant Helmich, who was also drunk, had thrown the chaplain into the passage, where he was dozing on the ground by the doorway. When Schweik reached the spot, he shook the chaplain, and when the latter opened his eyes and began to mumble, Schweik saluted and said :

"Beg to report, sir, I'm here."

"And what do you want here?"

"Beg to report, sir, I've come to fetch you."

"So you've come to fetch me, have you? And where are we going?"

"Home, sir."

"And what have I got to go home for? Aren't I at home?"

"Beg to report, sir, you're on the floor in somebody else's home."

"And—how—did—I get here?"

"Beg to report, sir, you were paying a call."

"Not—not—not paying a call. You're—you're—wrong there."

Schweik lifted the Chaplain and propped him up against the wall. While Schweik was holding him, the Chaplain floundered from side to side and clung to him, saying : "You're letting me fall." And then, once more, with a fatuous smile, he repeated : "You're letting me fall." At last Schweik managed to squeeze the Chaplain up against the wall, whereupon he began to doze again in his new posture.

Schweik woke him up.

"What d'you want?" asked the Chaplain, making a vain attempt to drag himself along by the wall and to sit up. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Beg to report, sir," replied Schweik, pushing the Chaplain back against the wall, "I'm your batman, sir."

"I haven't got a batman," said the Chaplain with some effort, making a fresh attempt to tumble on top of Schweik. There was a little tussle which ended in Schweik's complete victory. Schweik took advantage of this to drag the Chaplain down the stairs into the entrance hall where the Chaplain tried to stop Schweik from taking him into the street. "I don't know you," he kept telling Schweik during their tussle. "Do you know Otto Katz? That's me."

"I've been to the Archbishop's," he yelled, catching hold of the door in the entrance hall. "The Vatican takes a great interest in me. Is that clear to you?"

Schweik assented and began to talk to the Chaplain as man to man.

"Let go of that, I tell you," he said, "or I'll give you such a wallop. We're going home; so now stow your gab."

The Chaplain let go of the door and clung to Schweik, who pushed him aside and then carried him out into the street, where he drew him along the pavement in a homeward direction.

"Who's that bloke?" asked one of the onlookers in the street.

"That's my brother," replied Schweik. "He came home on leave and when he saw me, he was so happy that he got tight, because he thought I was dead."

The Chaplain, who caught the last few words, stood up straight and faced the onlookers : "Any of you who are dead must report themselves to headquarters within three days, so that their corpses can be consecrated."

And he lapsed into silence, endeavouring to fall nose-first on to the pavement, while Schweik held him under the arm and drew him along homeward. With his head thrust forward and his feet trailing behind and dangling like those of a cat with a broken back, the Chaplain was muttering to himself :
"Dominus vobis-cum
—
et cum spiritu tuo. Dominus vobiscum."

When they reached a cab rank, Schweik propped the Chaplain in a sitting posture up against a wall and went to negotiate with the cabmen about the fare. One of the cabmen declared that he

knew the Chaplain very well, that he'd driven him home once and would never do it again.

"He spewed all over my cab," he announced in plain terms, "and then he never paid his fare. I was carting him round for more than two hours before he found out where he lived. And a week later, when I'd been after him about three times, he paid me five crowns for the whole lot."

After long discussions, one of the cabmen agreed to take them.

Schweik went back to the Chaplain who had now fallen asleep. Somebody had removed his bowler hat (for he usually put on civilian clothing when he went for a walk) and taken it away.

Schweik woke him up and with the help of the cabman got him inside the cab. There the Chaplain collapsed in a complete torpor and took Schweik for Colonel Just of the 75th Infantry Regiment. He kept muttering : "Don't be too hard on me, sir. I know I'm a bit of a cad." At one moment, it seemed as if the jolting of the cab against the curb was bringing him to his senses. He sat up straight and began to sing snatches from some unrecognizable song. But then he lapsed once again into a complete torpor and turning to Schweik with a wink he inquired :

"How are you to-day, dear lady?"

Then, after a brief pause :

"Where are you going for your summer holidays?"

Evidently he saw everything double, for he then remarked :

"So you've got a grown-up son," and he pointed to Schweik.

"Sit down," shouted Schweik, when the Chaplain started trying to climb on to the seat, "or I'll teach you how to behave, see if I don't."

The Chaplain thereupon became quiet and his little piglike eyes stared out of the cab in a state of complete bewilderment as to what was happening to him. Then, with a melancholy expression, he propped his head up in his hands and began to sing :

"I seem to be the only one Whom nobody loves at all."

But he immediately broke off and remarked in German : "Excuse me, sir, you don't know what you're talking about. I can sing

whatever I like." Whereupon he attempted to whistle some tune or other, but the noise which issued from his lips was so loud that the cab came to a standstill. Schweik told the cabman to drive on and the Chaplain then tried to light his cigarette holder.

"It won't burn," he said despondently, when he had used up all his matches. "You keep on blowing at it."

But again he at once lost the thread of continuity and started laughing.

"This is no end of a lark. We're in a tram, aren't we?"

He began to search his pockets.

"I've lost my ticket," he shouted. "Stop the tram. I must find my ticket."

And with a gesture of resignation :

"All right. Let them drive on."

Then he began to babble : "In the vast majority of cases . . . Yes, all right ... In all cases . . . You're wrong . . . Second floor . . . That's only an excuse . . . That's your concern, not mine, dear lady . . . Bill, please . . . I've had a black coffee."

In a semi-dream he began to squabble with an imaginary adversary, who was disputing his rights to a seat by the window in a restaurant. Then he began to take the cab for a train and leaning out, he yelled in Czech and German: "Nymburk, all change." Schweik thereupon pulled him back and the Chaplain forgot about the train and began to imitate various farmyard noises. He kept up the cock crow longest and his clarion call was trumpeted forth in fine style from the cab. For a while he became altogether very active and restless, trying to get out of the cab and hurling terms of abuse at the people past whom they drove. After that he threw his handkerchief out of the cab and shouted to the cabman to stop, because he had lost his luggage. Next he started telling a story : "At Budejovice there was a drummer. He got married. A year later he died." He burst out laughing. "Isn't that screamingly funny?"

All this time Schweik treated the Chaplain with relentless severity. Each time that he made various frolicsome attempts to get out of the cab, to smash the seat and so on, Schweik gave him one or two hard punches in the ribs, which treatment he accepted with remarkable lethargy. Only once did he put up any sort of