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DYING SOLDIER

My wife — I’m not strong—

think of my situation—

and take me along—

to the — medical station!

FIRST WAR CORRESPONDENT

What a brazen request!

This man’s a real pain!

“You must take a good rest

and stay where you’ve lain.”

SECOND

We’ve honoured a creature

who serves at the front

with a picture feature!

“What more do you want?”

FIRST

We beat death to your bedside,

your photo’s on file.

“Have you no pride?

Just give us a smile!”

SECOND

The man remains silent,

so lest we forget,

once more … (takes photo) Our client

ain’t seen nothing yet!

FIRST

There’s no need to moan,

when wonders are happening.

You’re all on your own,

so where is the chaplain?

SECOND

We’d ask him to kneel

by the man who must perish.

Our readers would feel

this a scene they could relish.

FIRST

He would do it for me,

for priests are so docile,

and all would agree

that it raises their profile.

SECOND

“Where the devil’s the priest?”

you ask as a joke.

He’s missing the feast

and the odd puff of smoke.

FIRST

A shell? Time to go,

get the hell out of here.

At the Press Bureau

we’ll have nothing to fear.

SECOND

Think that gave me a fright?

No, those bangs make me laugh,

but there’s not enough light

for a photograph.

FIRST

You’re only too right.

It’s time for a change!

We may be in sight

of enemy range.

SECOND

Not born for fighting,

we’ll swiftly withdraw

and call what we’re writing

“Impressions of War”!

(They drive off.)

A corporal with a revolver drives a platoon into action.

CORPORAL

Quick march! I’m gonna teach ya, you lily-livered lot!

You’re dying for the Fatherland, or else you’ll all be shot!

Doan imagine for a second I’m gonna let ya skive!

You’ll bombard the enemy if you wanna stay alive!

(They disappear.)

BLINDED SOLDIER (groping forward on all fours)

Thanks, Mother Earth! It’s good to feel your hand,

feel freed from dreadful night and Fatherland!

I breathe the forest and the joys of home.

You guide me back towards your primal womb.

At last the thunderclaps of night have passed.

I’m still not sure quite what it was they asked.

Dear Mother Earth, I now await your dawn.

Soon in the sight of God I’ll be reborn.

(He dies.)

FEMALE WAR CORRESPONDENT (appears)

At last I’ve reached the end of my long hunt,

I’ve found the common man here at the front!

A WOUNDED SOLDIER (groping forward on all fours)

My curses on the Kaiser, I feel his heavy hand

has poisoned and polluted our German Fatherland!

His reign has brought disaster, destroying every hope,

his visage is a gallows, his beard the hangman’s rope.

His laughter taught us falsehood, his pride was full of hate,

his anger signified a vain attempt to compensate

for the limitless ambition that tore the world apart,

defying inhibitions that constrain the human heart.

From India to the Rhineland and across to the Atlantics

the whole earth was disrupted by his mock-heroic antics.

Instead of mounting a defence of our rich heritage,

he piled it high with bric-a-brac from an archaic age.

Powers of imagination were swiftly put to flight

by a slimy global salesman who dressed up as a knight.

Over land and over sea he spouted out a flood

of malicious verbal venom that curdled up our blood.

He commercialized the values of the whole created world,

so its essential meaning to the depths of hell was hurled.

An Emperor’s insanity causes lamentation,

as sales of cheap and shoddy goods disfigure the Creation.

Not ruling by the grace of God, the power in which we trust,

that man’s reduced the universe to ashes and to dust.

Wearing the armour of the Lord! By God, our hearts will leap

when history throws such useless junk onto the rubbish heap.

The crazy world that’s then revealed is ruled by dynamite,

of all created planets — the most appalling sight!

If only all those statesmen, those diplomats and peers

were now compelled to wallow in this sea of blood and tears!

So curses on the Emperor and all of royal blood,

for those who’ve caused such carnage should perish in the Flood!

Though born of German parents, when I sit at God’s right hand,

I shall denounce the Kaiser who’s defiled our motherland!

(The wounded soldier dies.)

(Enter Crown Prince Wilhelm, the Death’s Head Hussar, with his entourage.)

DEATH’S HEAD HUSSAR

Into action, you filthy swine!

The scent of battle’s just divine.

We shall fight on till our final breath,

for we are the regiment of death.

Proud as we are of our slim figure,

we still attack the foe with vigour.

We may look weird to other eyes,

but those who resist will have a surprise.

Yes, the Hussars have long eyelashes,

but we enjoy heroic clashes.

It’s time the boys launched their assault,

each one courageous to a fault.

Victories are won by those with flair,

so into battle if you dare!

While on the Marne the air turned foul,

I did my best to boost morale,

and at Verdun we’ll hold the line.

So into action, you filthy swine!

Into action, you filthy swine!

The cut of my tunic’s superfine.

My father’s simply a paper tiger,

in that respect I’m a real fighter.

I strike as swiftly as a snake,

my country’s future is at stake.

My moustache is in fine condition.

If only we had more ammunition!

Though based in France our life is hard,

but we won’t retreat a single yard.

Attrition warfare is scarcely fun

for one so young, for one so young.

So before our sacrifice ends in defeat,

we shall arrange a sumptuous treat.

We can still launch our attack in time,

in German a bard can make anything rhyme,

for if duty is harsh, art is sublime.

So into action, you filthy swine!

(The group disappears.)

(A marching song is heard. Enter Nowotny von Eichensieg.)

NOWOTNY VON EICHENSIEG

To counter our flak

they’re deploying ack-ack,

so we’re fighting back with every man-jack.

The Homeland reserve

are all forced to serve.

They’ll be put on a charge if they lose their nerve.

The ordinary blokes

we just treat as jokes.

God only knows why they fights till they croaks.

Those soldiers who skive

have no chance to survive.

Once put inside, they won’t come out alive.

I’ve got a sharp eye

for deserters who try

to sneak off on the sly — they too will die.

If one starts to whine