Tjaden Quotes

Kat and Kropp get in an argument over the war as they rest from an hour’s worth of drill (occasioned by Tjaden’s not saluting a major properly). Kat believes the war would be over if leaders gave all the participants “the same grub and the same pay,” as he says in a rhyme. Kropp believes the leaders of each country should fight each other in an arena to settle the war; the “wrong” people currently do the fighting.

Those are for us,’ growls Detering. ‘Don’t talk rubbish,’ Kat snaps back at him. ‘You’ll be lucky to get a coffin at all,’ grins Tjaden, ‘they’ll just use a tarpaulin to wrap up that target-practice dummy you call a body, you wait and see.

Tjaden comes back. He is still worked up and joins in the debate again straight away by asking how a war starts in the first place. ‘Usually when one country insults another one badly,’ answers Kropp, a little patronizingly. But Tjaden isn’t going to be put off. ‘A country? I don’t get it. A German mountain can’t insult a French mountain, or a river, or a forest, or a cornfield.

But what I would like to know," says Albert, "is whether there would not have been a war if the Kaiser had said No." "I'm sure there would," I interject, "he was against it from the first." "Well, if not him alone, then perhaps if twenty or thirty people in the world had said No." "That's probable," I agree, "but they damned well said Yes." "It's queer, when one thinks about it," goes on Kropp, "we are here to protect our fatherland. And the French are over there to protect their fatherland. Now who's in the right?" "Perhaps both," say I without believing it. "Yes, well now," pursues Albert, and I see that he means to drive me into a corner, "but our professors and parsons and newspapers say that we are the only ones that are right, and let's hope so;--but the French professors and parsons and newspapers say that the right is on their side, now what about that?" "That I don't know," I say, "but whichever way it is there's war all the same and every month more countries coming in." Tjaden reappears. He is still quite excited and again joins the conversation, wondering just how a war gets started. "Mostly by one country badly offending another," answers Albert with a slight air of superiority. Then Tjaden pretends to be obtuse. "A country? I don't follow. A mountain in Germany cannot offend a mountain in France. Or a river, or a wood, or a field of wheat." "Are you really as stupid as that, or are you just pulling my leg?" growls Kropp, "I don't mean that at all. One people offends the other--" "Then I haven't any business here at all," replies Tjaden, "I don't feel myself offended." "Well, let me tell you," says Albert sourly, "it doesn't apply to tramps like you." "Then I can be going home right away," retorts Tjaden, and we all laugh, "Ach, man! he means the people as a whole, the State--" exclaims Mller. "State, State"--Tjaden snaps his fingers contemptuously, "Gendarmes, police, taxes, that's your State;--if that's what you are talking about, no, thank you." "That's right," says Kat, "you've said something for once, Tjaden. State and home-country, there's a big difference." "But they go together," insists Kropp, "without the State there wouldn't be any home-country." "True, but just you consider, almost all of us are simple folk. And in France, too, the majority of men are labourers, workmen, or poor clerks. Now just why would a French blacksmith or a French shoemaker want to attack us? No, it is merely the rulers. I had never seen a Frenchman before I came here, and it will be just the same with the majority of Frenchmen as regards us. They weren't asked about it any more than we were." "Then what exactly is the war for?" asks Tjaden. Kat shrugs his shoulders. "There must be some people to whom the war is useful." "Well, I'm not one of them," grins Tjaden. "Not you, nor anybody else here." "Who are they then?" persists Tjaden. "It isn't any use to the Kaiser either. He has everything he can want already." "I'm not so sure about that," contradicts Kat, "he has not had a war up till now. And every full-grown emperor requires at least one war, otherwise he would not become famous. You look in your school books." "And generals too," adds Detering, "they become famous through war." "Even more famous than emperors," adds Kat. "There are other people back behind there who profit by the war, that's certain," growls Detering. "I think it is more of a kind of fever," says Albert. "No one in particular wants it, and then all at once there it is. We didn't want the war, the others say the same thing--and yet half the world is in it all the same.

Then what exactly is the war for?” asks Tjaden. Kat shrugs his shoulders. “There must be some people to whom the war is useful.

But Tjaden is quite fascinated. His otherwise prosy fancy is blowing bubbles. 'But look,' he announces, 'I simply can't believe that an emperor has to go to the latrine the same as I have.

Then what exactly is the war for?” asks Tjaden. Kat shrugs his shoulders. “There must be some people to whom the war is useful.” “Well, I’m not one of them,” grins Tjaden. “Not you, nor anybody else here.

Today we have done an hour’s saluting drill because Tjaden failed to salute a major smartly enough. Kat can’t get it out of his head. “You take it from me, we are losing the war because we can salute too well,” he says. Kropp

ALREADY KNOW the camp on the moors. It was here that Himmelstoss gave Tjaden his education. But now I know hardly anyone here; as ever, all is altered. There are only a few people that I have occasionally met before. I go through the routine mechanically. In the evenings I generally

Right, but just think for a minute – we are almost all ordinary people, aren’t we? And in France the majority are workers, too, or tradesmen or clerks. Why on earth should a French locksmith or a French shoemaker want to attack us? No, it’s just the governments. I’d never seen a Frenchman before I came here, and most of the Frenchmen won’t have seen one of us. Nobody asked them any more than they did us.’ ‘So why is there a war at all?’ asks Tjaden. Kat shrugs. ‘There must be some people who find the war worthwhile.’ ‘Well I’m not one of them,’ grins Tjaden. ‘No, and nor is anybody else here.

Close behind us were our friends: Tjaden, a skinny locksmith of our own age, the biggest eater of the company. He sits down to eat as thin as a grasshopper and gets up as big as a bug in the family way; Haie Westhus, of the same age, a peat-digger, who can easily hold a ration-loaf in his hand and say: Guess what I've got in my fist; then Detering, a peasant, who thinks of nothing but his farm-yard and his wife; and finally Stanislaus Katczinsky, the leader of our group, shrewd, cunning, and hard-bitten, forty years of age, with a face of the soil, blue eyes, bent shoulders, and a remarkable nose for dirty weather, good food, and soft jobs.

Weshalb ist dann überhaupt Krieg?" fragt Tjaden. Kat zuckt die Achseln. "Es muß doch Leute geben, denen der Krieg nützt." "Na, ich gehöre nicht dazu", grinst Tjaden. "Du nicht, und keiner hier." "Wer denn nur?" beharrte Tjaden. "Dem Kaiser nützt er doch auch nicht. Der hat doch alles, was er braucht" "Das sag nicht", entgegnet Kat. "Einen Krieg hat er bis jetzt noch nicht gehabt. Und jeder größere Kaiser braucht mindestens einen Krieg, sonst wird er nicht berühmt. Sieh mal in deinen Schulbüchern nach.

State and home-country, there’s a big difference.” “But they go together,” insists Kropp, “without the State there wouldn’t be any home-country.” “True, but just you consider, almost all of us are simple folk. And in France, too, the majority of men are labourers, workmen, or poor clerks. Now just why would a French black-smith or a French shoemaker want to attack us? No, it is merely the rulers. I had never seen a Frenchman before I came here, and it will be just the same with the majority of Frenchmen as regards us. They weren’t asked about it any more than we were.” “Then what exactly is the war for?” asks Tjaden. Kat shrugs his shoulders. “There must be some people to whom the war is useful.” “Well, I’m not one of them,” grins Tjaden. “Not you, nor anybody else here.” “Who are they then?” persists Tjaden. “It isn’t any use to the Kaiser either. He has everything he can want already.” “I’m not so sure about that,” contradicts Kat, “he has not had a war up till now. And every full-grown emperor requires at least one war, otherwise he would not become famous. You look in your school books.” “And generals too,” adds Detering, “they become famous through war.” “Even more famous than emperors,” adds Kat. “There are other people back behind there who profit by the war, that’s certain,” growls Detering.

Kat shrugs his shoulders. “There must be some people to whom the war is useful.” “Well, I’m not one of them,” grins Tjaden. “Not you, nor anybody else here.” “Who are they then?” persists Tjaden. “It isn’t any use to the Kaiser either. He has everything he can want already.” “I’m not so sure about that,” contradicts Kat, “he has not had a war up till now. And every full-grown emperor requires at least one war, otherwise he would not become famous. You look in your school books.” “And generals too,” adds Detering, “they become famous through war.” “Even more famous than emperors,” adds Kat. “There are other people back behind there who profit by the war, that’s certain,” growls Detering.

Ci deve esser gente a cui la guerra giova". [...] "Be', io non sono del numero" [...] "Né tu, né altri qui" "E allora chi?" insiste Tjaden. "Neanche all'Imperatore la guerra giova: lui ha già tutto quello che gli occorre." "Non dire questo" interrompe Kat; "finora una guerra non l'aveva avuta. E si sa che ogni imperatore di una certa grandezza deve avere almeno una guerra, altrimenti non diventa famoso. Guarda un po' nei tuoi libri di scuola, se non è così." [...] "Credo piuttosto che si tratti di una specie di febbre" dice Alberto. "in fondo non la vuole nessuno, e poi, a un dato momento, ecco che la guerra scoppia. Noi non l'abbiamo voluta, gli altri sostengono la stessa cosa; e intanto una metà del mondo la fa, e come!".

We enter a large village. A few bedraggled garlands hang across the street. So many troops have passed through already that it is not worth while to make any special fuss about the last of them. So we must content ourselves with the faded welcome of a few rain-sodden placards loosely looped around with oak leaves cut out of green paper. The people hardly so much as look at us as we march by, so accustomed have they grown to soldiers returning. But for us it is a new thing to come here and we hunger for a few friendly looks, however much we may pretend we do not give a damn. The girls at least might stop and wave to us. Every now and then Tjaden and Jupp try to attract the attention of one, but without success. We look too grisly, no doubt. So in the end they give it up.

Ricompare Tjaden, ancora eccitato, e si mescola subito al discorso, informandosi in che modo, innanzi tutto scoppi una guerra. "Generalmente è perché un paese ha fatto grave offesa a un altro" risponde Alberto, con una cert'aria sentenziosa. [...] "Un paese? Non capisco. Una montagna tedesca non può offendere una montagna francese: né un fiume, né un bosco, né un campo di grano..." "Sei bestia davvero o fai per burla?" brontola Kropp: "non ho mai detto niente di simile. È un popolo che offende un altro..." "Allora non ho che fare qui; io non mi sento affatto offeso" replica Tjaden. "Ma mettiti bene in zucca" gli fa Alberto stizzito, "che tu sei un povero villanaccio e non conti nulla". "E allora, ragion di più perché me ne vada a casa" insiste l'altro, mentre tutti ridono.

I start suddenly and lift my head. Bethke too, I see, is sitting up. Even Tjaden is on the alert. The year-old instinct has reported something, none yet knows what, but certainly something strange is afoot. We raise our heads gingerly and listen, our eyes narrowed to slits to penetrate the darkness. Every one is awake, every sense is strained to the uttermost, every muscle ready to receive the unknown, oncoming thing that can mean only danger. The hand grenades scrape over the ground as Willy, our best bomb-thrower, worms himself forward. We lie close pressed to the ground, like cats. Beside me I discover Ludwig Breyer. There is nothing of sickness in his tense features now. His is the same cold, deathly expression as every one’s here, the front-line face. A fierce tension has frozen it—so extraordinary is the impression that our subconsciousness has imparted to us long before our senses are able to identify it.

Nossos pensamentos são como o barro, modelados pela mudança dos dias: são bons, quando temos descanso, e fúnebres, quando estamos sob o fogo. Fora e dentro de nós, há campos cheios de crateras. Todos são assim, não apenas nos; o passado não existe, e, para dizer a verdade, a gente não se lembra dele. Parece que se apagaram as diferenças que a cultura e a educação criaram, e quase não as reconhecemos mais. Dão, às vezes, vantagens para tirar partido de uma situação, mas também têm seu aspecto negativo, porque suscitam problemas que precisam ser superados. É como se, antigamente, tivéssemos sido moedas de países diversos; derreteram-nas, e, agora, todas têm o mesmo cunho. Se quiserem reconhecer as diferenças, então é preciso examinar cuidadosamente o metal. Somos soldados, e só depois, e de uma maneira estranha, quase envergonhada, é que somos indivíduos. Há entre nós uma grande fraternidade, algo do companheirismo das canções do povo, um pouco do sentimento de solidariedade dos prisioneiros e da desesperada lealdade que existe entre os condenados à morte - tudo isto nos coloca num plano de vida que, em meio ao perigo, nos permite superar a angústia e o medo de morrer. Faz com que procuremos gozar com sofreguidão as horas de vida que ainda nos restam, de um modo que nada tem de patético. Se quiséssemos atribuir-lhe um valor, numa classificação, teríamos de dizer que é ao mesmo tempo heróico e banal, mas quem perde tempo com isto? É por este motivo, por exemplo, que Tjaden, quando se anuncia um ataque inimigo, toma a sua sopa de ervilha com toucinho, com uma pressa incrível, até a última colherada, porque não sabe se ainda estará vivo daqui a uma hora.

Albert Kropp, the clearest thinker among us and therefore only a lance-corporal; Müller, who still carries his school textbooks with him, dreams of examinations, and during a bombardment mutters propositions in physics; Leer, who wears a full beard and has a preference for the girls from officers’ brothels. He swears that they are obliged by an army order to wear silk chemises and to bathe before entertaining guests of the rank of captain and upwards. And as the fourth, myself, Paul Bäumer. All four are nineteen years of age, and all four joined up from the same class as volunteers for the war. Close behind us were our friends: Tjaden, a skinny locksmith of our own age, the biggest eater of the company. He sits down to eat as thin as a grasshopper and gets up as big as a bug in the family way; Haie Westhus, of the same age, a peat-digger, who can easily hold a ration-loaf in his hand and say: Guess what I’ve got in my fist; then Detering, a peasant, who thinks of nothing but his farm-yard and his wife; and finally Stanislaus Katczinsky, the leader of our group, shrewd, cunning, and hard-bitten, forty years of age, with a face of the soil, blue eyes, bent shoulders, and a remarkable nose