A Little Garrison: A Realistic Novel of German Army Life of To-day

by Fritz Oswald Bilse

“Do you report this to me officially? No? Well, then, I don’t want to know anything about it. I won’t burn my fingers in meddling with a matter of that kind.”

König himself did not feel like becoming the instigator of a most disastrous scandal. After all, it was not primarily an affair where he ought to take the initiative, and this aside from the further consideration that he would probably become involved in a duel by taking the lead in exposing the guilty parties. He therefore also made up his mind to keep quiet.

Thus it was that nothing was done by anybody to put a stop to all this mischievous talk, and to put out of the world a matter which was of the greatest injury to the regiment and to the whole corps of officers,—a matter, too, in which the civilian population was perfectly justified in pointing the finger of scorn at them. And whereas in other circles, in civilian ones, the guilty parties would under similar circumstances have been called to account, in this instance a state of things was permitted to exist for a number of months which scandalized every decent person who, while forced by social conventions to meet the offenders on terms of equality, would have entirely shunned them once proper steps were taken to conciliate outraged public opinion. And this was all the more reprehensible because it affected a caste which deems itself superior to any other within the monarchy, and which believes itself to be the guardian of good manners and morals, and of a high conception of honor.

The largest measure of blame necessarily fell to the share of Colonel von Kronau. This gentleman, at all other times ready to proceed with stringent severity wherever he discovered slight breaches of discipline or of the mechanical details of drill, and who knew no clemency where nothing was to be feared for himself by playing the rigid taskmaster, in this instance tolerated this shameful thing; for he knew that interference in this particular would mean for him, in any case, serious inconvenience. Two things were possible. Either he would be charged with falsely accusing others, or else his position as commander would receive such a blow as to make it perhaps untenable, once his superiors should obtain knowledge of the actual state of affairs within the regiment. Neither of these contingencies was to his taste.

It was, therefore, with great relief that he one day received the official notification of Captain Kahle’s promotion to a majority, together with an order of the latter’s transference to a garrison in South Germany. That, then, meant the longed-for end of this horrible business, and he doubly rejoiced that he had not acted on the spur of impulse; for he doubted not that, if he had, the outcome would not have been as favorable.

Kahle felt naturally greatly elated at his unexpectedly rapid promotion. At last he had reached the goal of his ambition. For many years, ever since he had entered the army as a beardless stripling, it had been his aim to attain to a commanding position. And once up the ladder as far as major,—the critical point in the career of every German army officer,—he could with confidence await further promotions in the course of time; for he was not devoid of talent in his profession, and had devoted much serious study and research to its higher spheres, although the benumbing effects of the dissolute and monotonous life in the little garrison had also had upon him decidedly deleterious effects. He had acquired drinking habits, and his domestic peace had, as he was aware, for some time suffered therefrom; but he felt sure that amid new and more inspiring surroundings he could pull himself together and become once more his old self of former days. Hence the new Major Kahle felt happy, and no cloud disturbed his serenity. He was going to a large and lively city, and both he and his wife would reap the advantages of that. There was quartered there a considerable body of troops of various branches of the service, and his intercourse would, in consequence, greatly widen, and so would that of his wife. His income would be much larger, and the social attractions offered in the new place,—such as diverse entertainments, concerts, a good theatre, and the opera,—would do much to restore that sense of contentment to his volatile spouse which she had seemed to lack for long.

The day after his promotion had become public,—a “Liebesmahl”[17] assembled the entire corps of officers at the Casino. Specially to honor the departing major, the colonel had ordered full-dress uniform, and Kahle himself, a man of tall and commanding figure, made a fine show in all the glory of his orders, silver tassels, and broad stripes.

After the second course the colonel arose and made an impressive speech in behalf of the departing comrade. In it he paid high tribute to the new major’s popularity and to his eminent military virtues. At its close he handed to Kahle the usual silver tankard, bearing the initials and insignia of the regiment.

Kahle was greatly moved by these tokens of esteem, and he thanked the colonel in a short, manly way. In his farewell speech the joy of his promotion was the predominant note; but there was an undertone of sadness at parting, after so many years, from comrades and a garrison he had known so long. Often, it is true, he had sighed for a change, and there had been a good deal of worry and annoyance in this world-forgotten little town close to the French frontier; but now, when the hour of parting came, it cut him, nevertheless, to the quick to have to leave it all behind. Such is the weakness and inconsistency of frail human nature.

Next day he left by the noon train, and the officers were assembled at the station in full force to bid him good-bye. Brief military leave-taking,—just a shake of the hand and a word or two. The colonel formally and affectionately kissed him on the cheek, and then Kahle bade leave to his wife and their little son. His heart was heavy, and it cost him something to conceal the tear which had stolen into a corner of his eye. He had fully resolved to make his married life hereafter a happier one, and to have once more a real home. It was this thought in his mind which made parting with his wife particularly cordial. He trusted that she would rid herself of those bad habits she had acquired here, and that different environs would soon sweep from her memory recollections of life in this little town, where he and she had been forced to spend the best years of their lives, at the frontier, quasi outcasts of the empire.