The Good Soldier Svejk (32 page)

"When they were marching us off to barracks, just after I'd been called up," replied Schweik, who realized that he must not shake the old shepherd's faith in him.

"Did you climb over the wall?" inquired the shepherd eagerly, no doubt recalling that his grandfather had told him how he too had climbed over the wall of the barracks.

"Couldn't manage it any other way."

"And did the sentries fire on you?"

"Not half they didn't."

"And where are you off to now?"

"He's fair daft, that's what he is," the tramp replied on Schweik's behalf. "He wants to go to Budejovice of all places. That's the way a young chap without experience does for himself. I shall have to teach him a thing or two. First of all we're going to scrounge some civvy clothes, and then it'll be all right. We'll keep ourselves going till the spring, and then we'll do a bit of farm work somewhere. People are going to have a rough

time of it this year, and a chap told me that they're going to nab all the tramps and make them work in the fields. So it strikes me we may as well go of our own free will. There won't be many men left. They'll be done in wholesale."

"You think it'll all be over this year?" asked the shepherd. "Ah, you're right there, lad. The old wars, they was long wars, if you like. Napoleon's wars, and afterward the Swedish wars, as I've heard say, and the Seven Years' War."

The water containing the potatoes now began to boil and after a short silence the old shepherd said in prophetic tones :

"But he won't win this war, our Emperor won't, me lads. He hasn't got the people on his side. You ought to hear 'em when they get together at Skocice. That'd show you. After this war, they say, there ain't going to be any more emperors and they'll help themselves to the big royal estates. The police have collared a few of 'em for that sort of talk. Ah, the police are having it all their own way now."

The shepherd then strained the potatoes and poured sour sheep's milk into the dish. After a hasty meal, they soon went to sleep in the warm shanty.

In the night Schweik dressed quietly and crept out. The moon was rising in the east and in its encouraging light Schweik stepped out eastwards, saying to himself :

"I'm bound to get to Budejovice sooner or later."

When he emerged from the woods he saw a town on the right, and he therefore turned aside in a more northerly direction. After that he went due south, where another town became visible (this was Vodnany). He adroitly kept clear of it by cutting across the fields, and the morning sun welcomed him on the snowy slopes above Protivin.

"Straight ahead, straight ahead," said the good soldier Schweik to himself. "Duty calls. I must get to Budejovice."

But by an unfortunate chance, after leaving Protivin, instead of bearing to the south for Budejovice, Schweik turned his steps northward in the direction of Pisek. Toward noon he saw a village close by and as he walked down a small hill, he thought to himself:

"This'll never do. I'd better ask the way to Budejovice."

And on entering the village he was extremely surprised to see a board on the first cottage bearing the inscription: "Putim."

"Crikey," sighed Schweik. "Why, I'm back again in Putim. That's where I slept in the haystack."

He was, however, not at all surprised wnen from a white cottage behind a pond a policeman stepped forth, like a spider lurking in its web. He went straight up to Schweik and said :

"Where are you off to?"

"To Budejovice, to join my regiment."

The policeman gave a sarcastic smile.

"But you're coming away from Budejovice. You've left Budejovice behind you," and he drew Schweik into the police station.

"Well, we're pleased to see you," began the police sergeant of Putim, who had the reputation of being very tactful, but, at the same time, very shrewd. He never bullied persons who were arrested or detained, but subjected them to the kind of cross-examination which made even the innocent admit their guilt.

"Sit down and make yourself at home," he continued. "I expect you're tired after your long tramp. Now tell us where you're going to."

Schweik repeated that he was going to Budejovice to join his regiment.

"Then you've missed your way," said the police sergeant with a smile, "because you're coming from Budejovice, as I'll show you presently. There's a map of Bohemia hanging above your head. Now just you have a look at it. Here, to the south of us, is Protivin. To the south of Protivin is Hlubokâ, and to the south of that there's Budejovice. So you see you're not going to Budejovice but coming away from it."

The police sergeant gazed indulgently at Schweik, who replied in a calm and dignified tone :

"But I am going to Budejovice for all that."

It was more significant than Galileo's famous remark : "But it does move nevertheless," because he must have said it in a fit of exasperation.

"Now, look here," said the police sergeant to Schweik, still in a very friendly tone, "I'll prove to you that you're wrong,

and in the end you'll realize that every denial only makes it more difficult to own up."

"You're right there," said Schweik. "Every denial only makes it more difficult to own up."

"There you are ; now you can see it for yourself. I want you to tell me quite frankly where you came from when you started off for this Budejovice of yours. I say 'of yours' deliberately, for it seems evident that there must be another Budejovice situated somewhere to the north of Putim and not yet marked in any map."

"I started from Tabor."

"And what were you doing at Tabor?"

"I was waiting for the train to Budejovice."

"Why didn't you take the train to Budejovice?"

"Because I hadn't got a ticket."

"And why didn't they give you a free railway warrant? You're entitled to one, being a soldier."

"Because I hadn't got any papers on me."

"Aha, there you are," said the police sergeant triumphantly to one of the constables. "He's not such a fool as he pretends to be. He's beginning to get himself in a nice muddle."

The police sergeant began again, as if he had not heard Schweik's last reply about his papers :

"So you left Tabor. Where did you make for then?"

"Budejovice."

The expression on the police sergeant's face became somewhat stern and his gaze fell on the map.

"Can you show us on the map which way you went to get to Budejovice?"

"I can't remember all the places. But I remember that I've been in Putim once before."

The whole staff of the police station eyed each other significantly, and the police sergeant continued :

"So you were at the railway station in Tâbor. Have you anything in your pockets? Let's see what you have."

When they had searched Schweik thoroughly and found nothing except a pipe and some matches, the police sergeant asked him:

"Tell me why it is you've got nothing whatever in your pockets."

"Because I don't need anything."

"Heavens alive !" sighed the police sergeant. "You're a devil of a nuisance. You said you'd been in Putim once. What did you do here the first time?"

"I went round Putim on my way to Budejovice."

"You see what a muddle-headed fellow you are. You yourself say that you were going to Budejovice, and now we just have made it perfectly clear to you that you're coming away from Budejovice."

"I suppose I must have walked round in a circle, like."

The police sergeant again exchanged a meaning glance with the whole of his staff.

"In a circle, eh? It strikes me you've been loitering about the neighbourhood. Did you stay long in the railway station at Tâbor?"

"Till the last train left for Budejovice."

"And what did you do there?"

"Had a bit of a chat with some soldiers."

Another significant exchange of glances between the police sergeant and his staff.

"And what did you talk to them about? What sort of questions did you ask them?"

"I asked them what regiment they were from and where they were going to."

"I see. And didn't you ask them how many men there are in the regiment and how it is divided up?"

"No, I didn't ask them that, because I know it all inside out. Learned it years ago."

"So you know a lot about our army arrangements?"

"I should think I do."

And then, glancing round at his subordinates, the police sergeant triumphantly played his trump card :

"Can you speak Russian?"

"No."

The police sergeant nodded to his right-hand man and when they were both in the adjoining room, he rubbed his hands as he

gloated over the thoroughness and certainty of his triumph, and declared :

"Did you hear that? He doesn't speak Russian. The chap's as artful as a cartload of monkeys. He's admitted everything except the most important point. To-morrow we'll hand him over to the district superintendent at Pisek. The secret of dealing with wrongdoers is to keep your wits about you and to treat em kindly. Did you see how I put him through it? A fair deluge of questions. You wouldn't think he was that sort, would you? He looks like a village idiot, but those are just the people you've got to be most cautious with. Well, just put him under lock and key and I'll go and draw up a report about it."

And later in the afternoon the police sergeant with an enraptured smile was drawing up a report every sentence of which contained the word
"Spionageverdàchtig."
¹

As he wrote on, the situation became clearer and clearer, and when he had concluded in his queer bureaucratic German: "I therefore herewith beg to report that the enemy officer this day will be handed over to the district police superintendent at Pisek,' he smiled at what he had accomplished and called out to his right-hand man :

"Have you given the enemy officer anything to eat?"

"In accordance with your instructions, sir, we only supply food to persons who are brought up and cross-examined before twelve o'clock."

"This is a very exceptional case," said the police sergeant impressively. "This is a higher officer, one of the staff. The Russians don't use lance-corporals for spying jobs. You can send out to The Tom Cat to get him some lunch. Then let them make some tea with rum in it, and send the whole lot here. Don't say who it's for. In fact, don't tell anyone who we've got here. That's a military secret. And what's he doing now?"

"He asked for a bit of baccy. He's sitting in the guardroom and looks as pleased as if he was at home. 'It's nice and warm here,' he says, 'and your stove don't smoke. I feel quite snug here. If your stove was to smoke, you should have the chimney swept.

¹
Suspected of espionage.

But only in the afternoon, never when the sun's right on top of the chimney,' he says."

"Ah, that only shows his artfulness," said the police sergeant in a voice brimful of satisfaction. "He pretends not to mind. All the same, he knows he's going to be shot. You can't help respecting a man like that, even though he is an enemy. There he is, practically face to face with death, as you might say. I'm not so sure whether we'd have the nerve to do it. We might shillyshally and then back out of it. But there he sits and says : 'It's nice and warm here and your stove don't smoke.' That's what I call pluck. Yes, sir. A man's got to have nerves of steel, he's got to be full of guts, before he can do a thing like that. Guts and pluck. We could do with a little of it in Austria. Not that we haven't

got any heroes. I was reading in the paper about - But here we

are, wasting our time talking. Just go down and order that meal and on your way send him in to me."

When Schweik was brought in, the police sergeant with an affable nod invited him to sit down, and then asked him whether he had any parents. Schweik said that he hadn't.

It at once occurred to the police sergeant that it was better that there was nobody to weep over the fate of this hapless man. With this thought in his mind he gazed at Schweik's good-humoured countenance and suddenly, in a burst of cordiality, he patted him on the shoulder, bent down toward him and asked in a paternal tone :

"Well, and how do you like being in Bohemia?"

"First-rate," replied Schweik. "I've never met such nice people anywhere."

The police sergeant nodded assent.

"Yes, the people here are very kind and pleasant. A little thieving or a bit of a row now and then, but that doesn't amount to much. I've been here for the last fifteen years, and when I come to reckon things out, there's only three quarters of a murder every year."

"Do you mean a murder that they didn't make a proper job of?" asked Schweik.

"No, I don't mean that. In the last fifteen years we've only

had eleven murders. Five of them were with robbery and the rest were just ordinary ones that hardly count."

The police sergeant paused for a moment, and then proceeded to apply his method of cross-examination.