Waste Land to a Scream: A Gay Science

Novel 007

7. “All things are subject to interpretation whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.” Nietzsche

18 September 1914, On the French-German front.

It was his decision to make. This did not always happen because oftentimes the general in charge wanted to do what he wanted to do and no word from down below really meant anything. But sometimes, and this was one of them, a look from the ground was exactly what was needed. This was because of course the original general, Moltke, was very clearly not of his right mind and the new general Falkenhayn did not have a map in his mind which he could secure the richness which it was desperately needed. This meant that Gerhard Tappan, though only a Colonel, was the man on the spot. He was here among the pine trees which had not yet been denuded.

Thus there he was: and he did something very unusual for a German officer: he watched rather than commanded and he observed more than dictated what he wanted to see. This was because all of the men were new in their positions and the last group of men were not quite right on the job, if they were they wouldn’t have been in charge. In later years a picture was taken of the Army group command with several of the men almost happy because they thought that they could win the war with one last push with that French word: elan. Always and ever forward elan.

But this was not that, and walking through the box cars he could spell the stench of people who had once been living but were not anymore. He went into the decay of the wood and with fastidious care smelled the decay of all human debris even though it had been attempted to wash away. Even the pristine sauve of a huge amount of disinfectant could not hold the cold antiseptic that the grin of death touched and lilted its fastidious etching.

There was no disguising the disgust that his eyes saw his ears heard or his nostrils droned in two his brain that there was no offensive left in the German armies. It was spent and his right hand almost scratched in the air a meticulous report as to what he saw. He rounded on the next train and then he saw something that he did not recognize but knew instinctively was a German politician with all of the trimmings of one: fat, with a jolly face which stood completely out of the picture. It took him some minutes to realize it was Groener. Ordinarily, the two men had nothing in common, Gerhard was military through and through and looked at everything in the fineness of discipline and order. Whereas Wilhelm almost instinctively wanted a dark beer that he could lift high before even considering making a decision. But here was the point: lots of decisions were made through Wihelm's pen, even if there was something off-kilter about many of them.

And here they stopped because each one wanted to give the other one a chance to give the other a chance to obey. But as they watched for seconds both of them realized that this was not going to happen on his clock.

But Wilhelm decided to answer first: “I did not think that the military would send someone as high as you to assess the situation.”

“Falkenhayn wanted his own respective rather than a rehash of the older reports.”

“And you will give him that fresh perspective?”

“As the civilian people would say I am without report and free to make whatever report I want.”

“You realize that this is almost unheard of.”

“I do not think you should give my report that much weight but it may be that a pause and a retrenchment may be in order.”

Wilhelm was all elated and flustered.

“This was supposed to be a short war. And while my recommendation is not welcome I would say that we should sue for peace taking whatever little bits of territory that we can manage.”

“That is not the view from upstairs.”

“So I gathered. Then I will let you wonder as freely as you want, and you can make your own decision.”

"And you're good with whatever decision I make?"

"I feel that you must do what is right in a Christian mold, and I feel sure that that will be enough to call you to write down all that see and all that you hear. There is no word for this even the abomination does not capture the reek of what happened inside these boxcars or in the pits where we sort out the uniforms to be reissued from the bodies that are wasted over the land where the tubers once grew."

And with that, the jolly round civilian stopped to a different place which was always the same because there was no escape.

Gearhart turned and kept dilapidated and that was free of any sort of buying as if it stretched and spasmed in its course. Then he saw that a note was clenched in his hand. He decided to bend over and eventually read it. He saw that it was in French and that the tossing and turning of all the lines was even here in flux by hand and foot.