That again was before--Jena.
June 13th.
For the first time the colonel asked me about my experiences in the South African War. He was reminded of it because a lieutenant belonging to the South-West African Defence Corps happened to call upon him at the practice-camp. I could only say that I had brought away with me from the Transvaal an unspeakable abhorrence of war.
"Of war in general?" asked Falkenhein.
"Yes, indeed," I answered; and then it suddenly struck me what a preposterous reply this was for an officer to make. I qualified the assertion by saying I had assisted at the most unfortunate period of the Boer War, during the panic that followed Cronje's capture, and had got to know only the seamy side of warfare: demolished farms, trampled-down fields, no real steady fighting, scarcely any skirmishing even, but just one continual rout.
The colonel listened to my torrent of words in silence. Then at last--"Good God!" he said, "a thoughtful man must detest war--all war. But it does not do to be sentimental. Sentimentality in this matter is synonymous with stupidity." He spoke of this for a long time, then about other topics, and finally wound up by saying: "There are many such enigmas in this world that must remain unsolved for the present, and with which men are yet forced to deal in a practical manner, even at the risk of making mistakes. So that we just have to choose a sensible middle course. We must be neither too superficial nor too profound. And above all, we must not think too much!" Unfortunately, I am not the man for such compromises.
June 16th.
The colonel lunched with me in the canteen, sitting on benches in the middle of the wood; our fare being bread, sausage, and some excellent lager-beer. Close by were several one-year volunteers, and two or three non-commissioned officers with them. They looked uncomfortable, for they are forbidden to be on familiar terms with the non-commissioned officers. The colonel, however, did not mind it much.
"I believe," he said, "that it cannot always be avoided." Then he spoke of the one-year volunteer system, which in his opinion is a two-edged sword. It furnishes most efficient reserve-officers,--it has that advantage, certainly. But the drawbacks are as follows:
It is apt to demoralise the non-commissioned officers. True, bribery is strictly forbidden; but that is a mere empty form, a prohibition which is daily infringed, such infringement being purposely overlooked, whether for good or evil. The non-commissioned officer then ceases to depend on his pay alone; and that puts temptations to dishonourable conduct before many a perhaps otherwise conscientious man, besides inevitably engendering dissatisfaction with his profession. Furthermore, the one-year volunteer system takes away just those men who, with their higher intelligence and culture, might most effectually oppose the socialistic propaganda that goes on in the ranks, and who might in a certain sense exert an enlightening influence on those around them. The colonel regards all prohibitions and regulations against the inroads of the revolutionary spirit in the army as more or less futile. The only practicable expedient is the influence over the privates of thoroughly trustworthy elements in their midst. The fact that the one-year volunteers live in barracks among the privates certainly makes severe demands on the patriotism of the younger ones; but then it renders careful surveillance possible, and affords a valuable insight into the life of the common soldier, into his ways of thinking and his views of the world in general. Falkenhein maintains that for the same reason this arrangement, although in some respects inconvenient, is highly desirable for the avantageur as a future officer. The French military authorities, who have lately instituted a similar system, have, in his opinion, done perfectly right.