Es ist für mich das bisher am schwersten verdauliche Buch Remarques.

Erneut habe ich dutzende Passagen unterstrichen und für mich kommentiert, in denen meines Erachtens Wahrheit und Tiefgang stecken. Remarque leiht den zurückgekommenen Soldaten, die als Jugendliche in den Krieg gezogen sind, seine Stimme und konfrontiert die verantwortlichen Stellen mit deren verlorenen Jugend, ihrer unerträglichen Gegenwart und einer scheinbar hoffnungslosen Zukunft.
Remarque weiß wovon er schreibt, war er schließlich selbst mit 18 Jahren in den Krieg eingezogen und Zeuge des Tötens auf oberen Befehl für das Vaterland und die anschließende Rückkehr zum alltäglichen Leben oder besser, der Versuch in einen Alltag zurückzufinden, der nach den Fronterlebnissen keinen Sinn mehr macht. Familie, Nachbarn, Lehrer verstehen nicht den Zustand, in dem sich die Rückkehrer befinden und der sie quält ("Es ist alles umsonst, Ernst. Wir sind kaputt, aber die Welt geht weiter, als wenn der Krieg nicht da gewesen wäre.").
Umsonst warten die jungen Männer auf die versöhnlichen Worte: "Wir haben alle furchtbar geirrt! Wir wollen gemeinsam zurückfinden! Habt Mut!" Stattdessen sehen sie sich mit den Erwartungen konfrontiert, alles zu vergessen, geregelte Arbeit zu finden und sich wieder der staatlichen Ordnung anzupassen. Dies wird besonders in der Gerichtsverhandlung deutlich. Albert hat den Geliebten seiner Freundin erschossen. Seine Freunde klagen die Obrigkeit an! - Eine der ganz großen Szenen für mich!

Der erste ergreifende Augenblick war für mich jedoch die Passage, in der Ernst zu seiner Familie zurückkehrt und einen Moment mit seiner Mutter allein im Treppenhaus steht:

"Sie beugt sich über das Geländer. Ihr kleines zerfurchtes Gesicht ist golden beschattet vom Lampenschirm. Unwirklich wehen die Schatten und Lichter hinter ihr über den Flur. Und plötzlich schwankt etwas in mir, eine seltsame Rührung packt mich, fast wie ein Schmerz - als gäbe es nichts auf der Welt als dieses Gesicht, als wäre ich wieder ein Kind, dem man auf der Treppe leuchten muss, ein Junge, dem auf der Straße etwas geschehen kann, und alles andere dazwischen nur Spuk und Traum. -
Aber das Licht der Lampe fängt sich zu einem scharfen Reflex in meinem Koppelschloss. Die Sekunde verfliegt, ich bin kein Kind, ich trage eine Uniform. Rasch springe ich die Treppe hinunter, immer drei Stufen auf einmal, und stoße die Haustür auf, begierig, zu meinen Kameraden zu kommen."

In jeder Szene steckt ein hohes Maß an Bewegung, sei es äußerlich oder nur innerlich. Remarque gibt dem Leser keine Ruhe, schont ihn nicht, sondern zieht ihn durch das Gefühlschaos seiner Protagonisten mit. So schildert er die Freitode von Ludwig und Georg detailliert. Allerdings in einer poetischen, beeindruckend ästhetischen Art. Er beraubt sie grausam ihres jungen Lebens und bettet sie sanft. Hier greift sie wieder, seine gewohnt schnörkellose Sprache, die gewaltige Bilder vor unseren Auge entstehen lässt, das Innere aufwühlt, ja ergreift und eine Wahrheit herauskatapultiert, die so groß und komplex ist, dass es mich nicht wundert, dass der Roman 1931 wie eine Bombe auf deutschen Boden schlug und heftig kritisiert wurde. Wie es Remarque so trefflich in einer Freitodszene formuliert "Das Schweigen beginnt zu reden." -

Es ist ein wichtiges Buch und die notwendige wie gelungene Fortsetzung von "Im Westen nichts Neues". Schade, dass dies damals von der Mehrheit der deutschen Bevölkerung nicht wahrgenommen und erkannt wurde, verbirgt Remarque in seinen Text sogar eine Begebenheit, die geradezu prophetisch ist. Während Ernst und seine Kameraden vor einem Waldstück sitzen, durchstößt plötzlich eine Gruppe minderjähriger Jungen das Gebüsch und übt Krieg, angeleitet von einem Erwachsenen, den er wiederholt als "Führer" betitelt.

Ich ziehe erneut meinen Hut vor diesen großartigen Schriftsteller.

"Chúng tôi muốn xây những ngôi nhà, khao khát những khu vườn và những hàng hiên, vì chúng tôi muốn ngắm biển và cảm nhận làn gió... nhưng chúng tôi không nhận thức được rằng ngôi nhà cần có móng. Chúng tôi giống như những cánh đồng nham nhở hố đạn bị ruồng bỏ ở Pháp... Chúng cũng yên ả như những cánh đồng xung quanh, nhưng trong lòng chúng vẫn chứa đầy mìn chưa nổ...và việc cày bừa vẫn đầy rủi ro nguy hiểm cho đến khi mìn được đào lên và dọn sạch đi."
Mình để 4.

The Road Back: http://readwithstyle.wordpress.com/20...

I am quite astonished that The Road Back is much less known than its famous prequel All Quiet on the Western Front. For me The Road Back is a heartbreaking story, that left me crying myself quietly to sleep in the middle of the night. In All Quiet on the Western Front Erich Maria Remarque was not quite himself – the author I know for dissecting human relationships and for philosophizing about life and love. Instead he was focused exclusively on the grotesqueness, violence and fatuity of war that leaves young men physically and emotionally crippled.

In The Road Back Erich Maria Remarque is again the author I fell in love with. The story begins during the last few days of WWI, a short time after All Quiet on the Western Front ended. Although it doesn’t feature the same characters (with the exception of Tjaden) in The Road Back many of the soldiers from All Quiet on the Western Front are mentioned…but they are already dead.

Read more: http://readwithstyle.wordpress.com/20...

Garp Cephesinde Yeni Bir Şey Yok'un devamı niteliğinde olan ve okuduğum ikinci Remarque romanı. İlkinin Behçet Necatigil çevirisini okumuştum; Burhan Arpad da harika iş çıkarmış.

Dönüş Yolu'nun ilk yarısı her ne kadar ilk kitabın bir hatırlatması gibi olsa da, devamında savaşın ardından memleketlerine dönen askerlerin topluma ayak uydurmakta yaşadıkları zorluklar Almanya'daki büyük ekonomik kriz ile ihtilal havasının gölgesinde ve güçlü bir savaş karşıtlığıyla beraber anlatılıyor. İlk kitaptaki karakterlerden Tjaden yine karşımızda, ölen diğerlerinin ise sık sık adı geçiyor. Spoiler geçmek istemiyorum; ne milliyetçilere ne de sosyalistlere yaranan ilk kitabı sevenlerin bunu da büyük bir zevkle okuyacağını düşünüyorum.

Çevirmenin hem Remarque hem de yazarın çocukluk arkadaşı bir başka yazarla olan buluşmalarını aktardığı kitabın sonundaki bölüm de hayli ilgi çekici; romanın otobiyografik ögelerinin sanıldığından da fazla olduğunu öğreniyoruz.

This is the sequel to All Quiet on the Western Front, and it may be more quietly powerful. There are some of the snippets of gruesome battle scenes, but this book that takes place after World War I shows the soldiers disillusioned with the war's purpose, alienated from their friends and life before the war and adrift when they try to resume their lives at home. Trained as soldiers in a brutal war, they have a hard time finding their place in society and find themselves missing the camaraderie of their fellow soldiers.

Ernst Birkenholz hat nur ein Ziel, er will den Weg zurück ins Leben finden.
Ernst ist Soldat im ersten Weltkrieg. Noch während des Abiturs werden Ernst und seine Mitschüler davon überzeugt sich freiwillig zur Front zu melden. Und so begeben sie sich von der Schulbank, für Kaiser, Volk und Vaterland, direkt in die Schützengräben und Bombentrichter. Die noch unvollendete Erziehung und Weiterentwicklung dieser jungen, unfertigen Generation übernimmt von nun an die alltägliche Grausamkeit und abstumpfende Gefühlswelt des Stellungskrieges im Schützengraben. Ernst und seine Kameraden erleben was es heißt zusammenzuhalten, zu überleben, zu kämpfen und trotzdem auf ein gutes Ende zu hoffen. Viele von Ernsts Kameraden kamen um, selbst noch am Tage des Waffenstillstandes.

Mit diesem Tage aber, war von jetzt auf gleich auf einmal alles anders. Kein sinnloses Töten mehr, keine Angst mehr vor Artilleriefeuer, kein Gedanke mehr an einen unsinnigen Tod. Aus Feinden im Schützengraben wurden wieder normale und vor allem echte Menschen.
Ernst tritt nun den Heimweg an, den Weg zurück.

Es ist ein Weg in eine fremde Heimat. Der Kaiser, für den unzählige seiner Kameraden ihr Leben ließen, ist längst ins Exil geflohen. Es herrscht Revolution, in der sogar Soldaten auf die alten Kameraden von einst schießen. Die Zeiten haben sich radikal geändert. Anerkennung für die Leistungen eines einfachen Soldaten an der Front gibt es nicht mehr. Die Revolutionäre verachten die kämpfende Truppe, und in seinem bürgerlichen Umfeld erlebt Ernst eher eine Stimmung der Verdrängung als der tatsächlichen Realität eines stattgefundenen Krieges. Er ist von nun an allein. Muss allein mit dem Erlebten fertig werden. Die Familie, bzw. die Gesellschaft lässt Ernst und seine Generation im Stich. Nicht aus Boshaftigkeit oder Absicht. Nein, die Welt von früher, die geborgene Zuflucht aus der Jugendzeit, alles was Ernst und seine Generation bisher kennen gelernt hatte, existiert nur einfach nicht mehr. Die unterschiedlichen Erfahrungen lassen es einfach nicht mehr zu, dass sich zwischen beiden Seiten ein Übereinkommen, eine Verständigung entwickeln könnte.

Erich Maria Remarque erschafft mit seiner Fortsetzung zu "Im Westen nichts Neues" ein düsteres und hoffnungsloses Bild dieser, seiner eigenen, verlorenen Generation. Er erzählt mit großer Hingabe und fühlbarer Emotionalität von den Problemen und Hindernissen der Kriegsheimkehrer und ihrer Unfähigkeit sich mit dieser normalen, scheinbar friedlichen Umgebung zu arrangieren.
Ernst Birkenholz sieht sich also einem erneutem Kampf gegenüber, nur diesmal ist der Gegner weit weniger berechenbar oder bekannt, die Ergebnisse des Kampfes nicht vorhersehbar, das Ende mit jeglicher Konsequenz offen. Wird der Weg zurück, zurück ins Leben, gelingen?

Very powerful. And...not a cheerfull experience.
But... with a hopeful end. It took some time but Remarque seemed to have found some peace at last. But the Road Back was not an easy one:
Gloom and doom for the comerades. But that is clearly what Remarque wanted to convey and he does it masterfully. The message comes over loud and clear: War is horrible. It destroys lives, even when one survives.

Starts where “All quiet on the Western Front” ends. The first chapter describes the end of the war and how unreal it is to just walk away from the front.
They keep on looking back. Now they have to say goodbye to all their fallen comrades.
It’s heartbreaking. They wonder - “is it the lost years which will stay there, is it the comrades who are lying there, is it all the misery that is covered by this dirt? -, there is such sorrow in their bones, that they could cry.”

And then they go....
The road back is one big goodbye from each other. From the ones they lost. Behind them marches the army of the dead.... Gone, but not forgotten. They feel lost. All they know is the army and their comrades, their friends. It’s all they know.
And then they arrive home...

Being home is not easy. They only feel “at home” when they are with their fellow soldiers.
Nobody understands what they went thru.
One of them realized that they need healing. He himself goes back in the army. It’s all he knows now.
They can’t concentrate: “For too long Death was our companion, he was a quick player, and each second was for the highest stakes.”
They feel empty, it makes them restless because they feel that people do not get it. This is a recurring theme. Even love can not help them. There is an unbridgeable gap between soldiers and non-soldiers. “We have to help ourselves.”

They go thru life. Ernst (Birkholz, the narrator of the story) realizes when they are at a gathering of their regiment that even the fellowship of soldiers is disappearing: “They are still our comerades and at the same time they are not, that makes me sad. Everything else is destroyed in the war, but we believed in the comradeship. But now we see: what death could not bring about, life succeeds: it separates us.”

Remarque puts if very eloquently when he lets one of his characters fulminate against the war: “And why, ..., why?...Because we were deceived, deceived and we hardly noticed it! We were terribly misused! They said country and meant occupation plans of a greedy industry - they said honor and meant the bickering and desire for power of a handfull of overambitious diplomats and lords - they say nation and meant the action craving of unemployed generals!”
“With the word Patriotism they hide their empty cliche drivel, their ambition, their strive for power, their lying romanticism, their stupidity, their profiteering, and they present it as a glorious ideal!” On he goes. “The youth of the world is broken up, and in each country they believe to fight for freedom. In each country they were lied to and misused, in each country they fought for interests instead of ideals, in each country they were shot down and mutually exterminated”.
It is heartbreaking. It keeps coming back. Really it is depressing. Their future is dead: “Our future is dead because the youth who carried it, is dead.”

We follow Ernst is his life to try to fit in again at home. And time and again he does not find peace.
As a teacher in elementary school he contemplates youth: “They came uneducated, sincere and unaware, like young animals, from their meadows, their plays and dreams in the school; still the simple law of playfulness: the most lively would be the most populat. But weeks of education would gradually force upon them another artifcial law of evaluation: the ones who, well-behaved, produced their work, would become excellent and considered the best.”
He is not optimistic about their future: “In the school threadmill they enjoyed a short shadow existence - to later, sink more surely into mediocracy and subaltern triviality.”
With women: “Ah, Love - a torch, falling into an abyss, and then shows how deep it is.”
So even in love he does not expect to find solace.

His friend Ludwig: “It’s all useless, Ernst. We are broken, but the world goes on, like the war was never there. Before long and our successors in the school banks will be eager to hear stories from the war and wish they would have been there...”

After a breakdown and illness he starts to get on the road back... In nature he finds peace and realized the beauty of it. It’s full of life. It rejuvenates him. For the first time he has experienced something like homeland and peace: “I don’t dare to believe it, took it for weakness and tiredness, but maybe with commitment, maybe we just have to be patient and be silent, and it will come to us, maybe the only thing that has not abandoned us, is really our body and the earth, and maybe all we have to do is to listen and follow it.”

There are so many incredible descriptions of what they feel that it is too much to quote them all. The book is full of reminiscence...

As said the journey back does end with a lighter note. There is hope. But it has cost them a lot.

The knowledge of WWII looms over the book for me. This book was published in 1931. But it’s full of eerie foreboding of what is going to happen.
Upon seeing boys in the forest following an adult “leader” play acting war: “My God, we are still alive and just out, how is it possible that there are already people doing this?”. It’s uncanny this foresight.

In the end Ernst is again in nature. It’s spring. He feels inspired by it.
About life: “It will not bring the fulfillment of which we dreamt in our youth and what we expected after the years out there...I will be alone...I will hesitate on cross roads...stumble and fall...but I will get up and go on and not look back. Maybe I can never be happy, maybe that is crushed by the war, and I always will be a little absentminded, nowhere at home; but also I’ll not be totally unhappy, because something will always be there to sustain me, even if it’s only my hands or a tree or the breathing earth.”

And so the book ends with an optimistic note...


The below poem (by british poet Wilfred Owen, 1893 - 1918) describes the horror of the war and the lie that it is honerable.

”Noone told them that they would be scarred for life... (if you even survived) and never feel at home again.
Dulce et Decorum Est
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.”
(it is sweet and right to die for your country)

L’anima ferita dei reduci

Legato inscindibilmente nella memoria al capolavoro “Niente di nuovo sul fronte occidentale”, Eric Maria Remarque è tuttavia autore di altri eccellenti romanzi meno noti che nel loro complesso presentano un suggestivo spaccato della Germania dagli anni ’10 del secolo scorso in poi, non solo negli aspetti storici, economici e politici ma soprattutto nelle dure ripercussioni psicologiche e sociali della Grande Guerra sulla popolazione tali da preludere alle prime avvisaglie del nazionalsocialismo.

Questo romanzo in particolare si sviluppa negli anni immediatamente successivi al conflitto, ponendo in primo piano, attraverso la voce del soldato Birkholz, la dolorosa situazione dei reduci, anche se tutta la comunità tedesca contemporanea affiora in filigrana nella narrazione.

L’elemento principale che domina la condizione dei sopravvissuti al quadriennio di massacri nelle Fiandre, decimati dalla fame e dalle bombe, dagli stenti e dal freddo, è il disadattamento, psicologico ancor più che sociale, l’incapacità a reinserirsi in una società che appare indifferente quando non addirittura ostile, quasi a ritenerli responsabili delle conseguenze della guerra e della sconfitta patite dalla popolazione civile.

Il passaggio dalla brusca conclusione del conflitto, che coglie quasi increduli i combattenti, al congedo è rappresentato nella scena disperata dell’ultima adunata quando, di fronte a un imbarazzato sottufficiale nel piazzale che ospitava fieramente schierati cinquecento uomini, si ritrovano ora solo trentadue laceri derelitti: “Il vento di novembre fischia nel cortile vuoto della caserma e i nostri compagni se ne vanno. Non ci vorrà molto perché ciascuno sia di nuovo solo”.

Inizia così per questi infelici, in contrasto con l’agognato recupero della vita civile, la dura via del ritorno: ben presto l’unico vincolo con il mondo circostante si rivelerà il cameratismo, un legame che travalica il carattere, il ceto sociale, il mestiere civile dei reduci portandoli a cercare ancora la vicinanza dei compagni, anche se afflitti in vario modo dalle ferite non rimarginate della terribile esperienza convissuta: il suicidio, la violenza, le sbornie, i ricoveri negli ospedali psichiatrici, la perdita dei legami familiari, l’apatia sono trappole che minacciano l’esistenza, anche di coloro che al fronte parevano i più robusti e resistenti.

La narrazione intrisa di grande malinconia si apre di tanto in tanto a momenti di tregua illusoria, dove la natura della campagna e dei boschi riporta la mente al ricordo di una giovinezza spensierata, prima che fosse troncata dagli eventi e sopraffatta dall’esperienza terribile delle trincee.

Вечерта на 5 декември, 1930 г. Зала „Моцарт“ в Берлин е препълнена от нетърпеливи зрители, дошли да гледат премиерата на най-новата холивудска продукция. Докато тече прожекцията, в залата нахлуват около 150 щурмоваци с кафяви ризи, водени от небезизвестния пропагандатор д-р Йозеф Гьобелс. Те хвърлят миризливи бомбички в салона, разпръскват лютив прах и дори пускат бели мишки измежду столовете, докато крещят антисемитски лозунги. В настъпилия хаос някои от присъстващите са налагани с палки, защото изглеждали като евреи. Филмът, предизвикал подобен скандал, е „На Западния фронт нищо ново“, екранизация за 1.25 милиона долара по излязлата година по-рано книга на Ерих Мария Ремарк.

Само три години по-късно на власт идват националсоциалистите, Гьобелс става министър на пропагандата, а книгите на Ремарк са горени публично на клади в цялата страна. Нещо повече – притежанието на „На Западния фронт нищо ново“ или продължението й, „Обратният път“, е обявено извън закона.

Ревю: https://bibliotekata.wordpress.com/20...

Kindle edition. A vivid and very sad depiction of German soldiers returning home after the war ends in 1918. Technically defeated, they are welcomed by their families of course, but not easily reintegrated into society. Most of these young men went straight from school - they are still only 21- but the war has aged them and they have no idea what to do in civilian life. More successful are those who were a bit older and return to jobs they had before.
Although I didn’t find this book as easy to read as All Quiet on the Western Front there were parts of it that will stay with me. The despair when the soldiers hear the Kaiser has run away to Holland, making all they fought for seem pointless- the train home - the fear of returning and losing the comradeship of the front - the awful first evening when no one really knows what to say - the poor mother losing her temper because her son has lost his socks at the front, a very powerful incident showing the complete lack of understanding of the fighting.
The book ends with some hope. Ernst is reconciled to trying to make a life for himself in peacetime. His two closest friends have committed suicide and he considers following their example but is comforted by the beauty of nature - the fatherland concept he went to war for has gone but he still loves his homeland and wants to live in it.

Kniha je více zaměřená na pocity vojáků, kteří se po skončení války cítí ztracení a mají pocit, že válka byla vlastně to jediné za co mohli ještě bojovat. Většina z nich, pochopitelně, ztratila chuť do života, určitou jiskru, která vyhasla ve válečném poli. Někteří se vrátili zranění a to nejen fyzicky, ale hlavně psychicky.
Při čtení si jen říkáte a k čemu to všechno je, miliony lidí zemře jen proto, že si nějací vysoce postavení lidi usmyslí, že chtějí to a to.

Remarque se zaměřuje především na válečné období do nichž zasazuje své příběhy. Jeho knihy ve mně vždycky zanechají nějakou stopu a výjimkou nebyla ani Cesta zpátky, ačkoliv z knih, které jsem od něj četla byla tahle trochu slabší.

Izgleda da je Remark od onih autora koji ne može da me razočara. Ili je rano što mu dajem toliko poverenja nakon treće knjige?

Na Zapadu ništa novo je s pravom najbolja ratna/antiratna knjiga dvadesetog veka. Trijumfalna kapija je suptilnija, treba joj duže da ti se uvuče pod kožu. Opet, dobar je znak da sam je čitao pre 5 godina, a i dalje osetim atmosferu Pariza pred početak 2. svetskog rata, težinu odluka nemačkog lekara. Skoro da osetim ukus kalvadosa u ustima...

Povratak vraća Remarka na autobiografsko - mladići se vraćaju kući nakon kapitulacije u Velikom ratu. Ljudi koji su "izbegli pakao i vraćaju se u život". Ovo je morao da napiše neko ko je to proživeo.
"Možda se rat stalno ponavlja samo zbog toga što jedan nikad ne može sasvim da oseti ono što drugi pati."

Ali povratnike čeka drugačiji svet. Drugačiji su i oni. Umesto dece koja su otišla u rat, pre nego što su isprobali ljubav ili život, vrtaćaju se cinični muškarci, iznureni frontom i smrću.
"Čudnovato je to: toliko smo navikli na jame i rovove da najednom postajemo podozrivi prema tišini predela u koji sada dolazimo, - kao da je tišina izgovor da nas namame na potajno minirano područje..."

Roditelji ih ne prepoznaju, a oni ne mogu da se uklope u društvo koje ne razume da su voleli život na frontu - živeli su život bez kočnica, bez pretvaranja, bez klasnih razlika.
"Saopštavaju mi, dalje, šta se desilo od mog poslednjeg dopusta. Kasapina sa ugla su skoro pretukle gladne žene. Jedared, koncem avgusta, dobila je svaka porodica celu funtu ribe. Uhvatili su psa doktora Knota i verovatno skuvali sapun. Gospođica Mentrup je dobila dete. Krompir je opet poskupeo. Iduće nedelje možda če se moći dobiti kosti na klanici. Prošlog meseca se udala tetka Gretina druga ćerka i to za ritmajstera... Napolju lupa kiša u okna. Ja skupljam ramena. Čudno je opet sedeti. Čudno je opet biti kod kuće.
- Pa ti i ne slušaš, Ernest..."

Direktor škole u čije klupe ti prekaljeni borci treba da se vrate, drži dirljiv govor o poginulim pitomcima te škole, koji spavaju večnim snom pod zelenom travom. Odgovor jednog od njih opisuje atmosferu Povratka u par rečenica:
U tom času začu se kratak smeh. Direktor, neprijatno dirnut, zastade. Smeh dolazi od Vilija, koji stoji blizu njega. U licu je kao rak crven od besa, i muca:

- Zelena trava... zelena trava... večni san? U blatu po jamama leže oni, izrešetani, iskidani, potonuli u baruštine. Zelena trava! Nismo valjda na času pevanja.

Mlatara rukama kao vetrenjača u buri, i nastavlja:
- Junačka smrt! Kako zamišljate to! Hoćete li da znate kako je umro mali Hojer? Ceo dan je ležao u žicama i vikao, a creva su mu visila iz trbuha kao makarone. Onda mu je parče granate odnelo prste i posle dva sata komad noge, a još je bio živ i pokušavao drugom rukom da ugura svoju utrobu. Najzad je, uveče, svršio. Kada smo posle, noću, uspeli da mu se približimo, bio je izrešetan kao rešeto. De, pričajte njegovoj majci kako je umro, ako imate hrabrosti.

Direktor je pobledeo. Lomi se da li da očuva disciplinu ili da beži. Ali nema vremena ni za jedno ni za drugo, jer Albert Troske odmah prihvati:
"Gospodine direktore, mi nismo došli ovamo da slušamo kako smo dobro obavili naš posao, iako, nažalost, nismo mogli pobediti. Seremo mi na to..."