A FAREWELL TO ARMS
Mdli-
TO THE READER.
1 D L y_ use this book very carefully, If the book is disfii^urcd or marked or written on while in your possession the book will have to be replaced bv a new copy or paid for * case the book be a volume , of set which single volumes are not.. available , price of the whole set will be realized. •
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A l-ARIiW 1:1-1.
TO ARMS
lirnol 1 k’lnin^vvay
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First publisfud in • . 2929
Second impression Novefnher . • , 1929
Third imprcssioti November * • 2929
Fourth impression December . • .1929
Reissued in Florin Books . . ♦ 2932
Second impression Septentber. . • 1933
Third impression Noxtember * • ♦ 1933
Fourth impression April • • • 2934
F$/lh impression Nox'cntber . , • 1934
Published in Penguin Books July . . 1935
Second impression August . « 1935
Third impression October • « » 2935
Foufih impression March • • . 2936
Fifth impression August • . « 1936
Made and Printed in Great Britain for Penguin Books Limited by Dutlex & Tanner Ltd.» Frome and London
None of the characters in this book is a living person, nor are the units or military organizations mentioned actual units or organizations.
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Accession No.
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Accession No.
i' Ernest Hemingway
is an American by birth but spends a great deal of his time on the Continent. He is a devotee of bull-fighting and wrote the classic on this subject in * Death In the Afternoon.’ His other publi¬ cations include ‘ The Torrents of Spring.’ ' Fiesta,’ ‘ Win¬ ner Take Nothing’ and ‘Men Without Women.’
^OOK ONE
CHAPTER I
In the late summer of that year we lived in a house m a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains. In the bed of the river there were pebbles and boulders, dry and white in the sun, and the water was clear and swiftly moving and blue in the channels. Troops went by the house and down the road and the dust they raised powdered the leaves of the trees. The trunks of the trees too were dusty and the leaves fell early that year and we saw the-.troops marching along the road and the dust rising and leaves, stirred by the breeze, falling and the soldiers marching and afterwards the road bare and white except for the leaves.
The plain was rich with crops ; there were many orchards of fruit trees and beyond the plain the mountains were bro\vn and bare. There was fighting in the mountains and at night we could see the flashes ' from the artillery. the dark it was like summer lightning, but the n^hts were cool and there was not the feeUng of a slorm coming. .. r
Sometimes in the dark we heard the troops march¬ ing under the window and guns going past pulled by motor-tractors. There was much traffic at night and many mules on the roads with boxes of ammunition on each side of their pack-saddles and grey motor-trucks that carried men, and other trucks with loads covered with c^vas that moved slower in the traffic. There were big guns too that passed in the day drawn by tractors, the long barrels of the guns covered with
green leafy branches and vines laid over the tractors. To the north, we could look
see_aTorest of ch^tnut XltSS. .and ^o^r jmo^tam on this side ofjl^ river.
■9 ' “Ai''-
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
There was fighting for that mountain too, but it was not successful, and in the fall when the rains came fhe leaves all fell from the chestnut trees and the branches were bare and the trunks black with rain. The vine¬ yards were thin and bare-branched too and all the country wet and brown and dead with thp flntnmn There were mists over the river and clouds on the mountain and the trucks splashed mud on the roads, and the troops were muddy and wet in their capes ; their rifles were wet and under their capes the two leather cartridge-boxes on the front of the belts, grey leather boxes heavy with the packs of clips of thin, long 6-*^ mm. cartridges^ bulged forward under the capes so that the men, passing on the road, marched as though they were six months gone with child.
There were small grey motor-cars that passed going very fast ; usually there was an officer on the seat with the driver and more officers in the back seat. They splashed more mud than the camions even and if one of the officers in the back was very small and between two generals, he himself so small that you could noF see his face but only the top of his cap and his narrow back, and if the car went especially fast it was probably the King, lived in Udine and came out in this way nearly every day to see how things were going, and things went very badly.
At the start of the winter came the permanent rain and with the rain came the cholera. But it was checked and in the end only seven thousand -died 'Of it in the army.
CHAPTER II
The next year there were many victories. The mountain that was beyond the valley and tl^e hillside where the chestnut forest grew was captured and there were victories beyond the plain on the plateau to the south and we crossed the river in August and lived in a house in^orizia that had a fountain and many thick
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
shady trees in a walled garden and a wistaria vine purple on the side of the house." Now the fighting was in the next mountains beyond and was not a mile away. The town was very nice and our house was very fine. The river ran behind us and the town had been captured very handsomely but the mountains beyond it could not be taken and I was very glad the Austrians seemed to want to come back to the town some time, if the war should end, because they did not bombard it to destroy it but only a little in a military way. People lived on in -it and there were ^ hospit^ and cafes and artillery up side streets and two bawdy-houses, one for troops and one for officers, and with the end of the summer, the cool nights, the fight¬ ing in the mountains beyond the town, the shell- marked iron of the railway bridge, the smashed tunnel by the river where the fighting had been, the trees around the square and the long avenue of trees that led to the square ; these with there being girls in the town, the King passing in his motor-car, sometimes now seeing his face and little long-necked body and grey beard like a goat's chin-tuft ; all these with the sudden interiors of houses that had lost a wall through shelling, with plaster and rubble in their gardens and sometimes in the street, and the whole thing going well on the Carso made the fall very different from the last fall when we had been in the country. The war was changed too.
The forest of oak trees on the mountain beyond the town was gone. The forest had been green in the summer when we had come into the town but now there were the stumps and the broken trunks and the ground tom up, and one day at the end of the fall when I was out where the oak forest had been I saw a Cloud coming over the mountain* It came very fast •sand the sun went a dull yellow and then everything was grey and the sky was covered and the cloud c^e on down the mountain and suddenly we were in was snow. The snow slanted across the the bare ground was covered, the stumps of trees projected, there was snow on the guns and there
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
were paths in the snow going back to the latrines behind trenches.
Later, below in the town, I watched the snow fall¬ ing, looking out of the window of the bawdy-house, the house for officers, where I sat with a friend and two glasses drinking a bottle of Asti, and, looking out at the snow falling slowly and heavily, we knew it was all over for that year. Up the river the mountains had not been taken ; none of the mountains beyoiKl the river had been taken. That was all left for next year. My friend saw the priest from our mess going by in the street, walking carefully in the slush, and pounded on the window to attract his attention. The priest looked up. He saw us and smiled. (^My friend motioned for him to come in."^ The priest shook his head and went on. That night in the mess after the spaghetti course, -which every one ate very quickly and seriously, lifting the spaghetti on the fork until the loose strands hung clear then lowering it into the mouth, or else using a continuous lift and sucking into the mouth, helping ourselves to wine from the grass-covered gallon flask ; it swung in a metal cradle and you pulled the neck of the flask down with the forefinger and the wine, clear red, tannic and lovely, poured out into the glass held with the same hand ; after this course, the captain commenced picking on the priest.
The priest was young and blushed easily and wore a uniform like the rest of us but with a cross in dark red velvet above the left breast-pocket of his grey tunic. The captain spoke pidgin Italian for my doubtful benefit, in order that I might understand perfectly, that nothing should be lost.
" Priest to-day with girls," the captain said looking at the priest and at me. The priest smiled and blushed and shook his head. This captain baited him often.
" Not true ? " asked the captain. " To-day I see priest with girls."
" No," said the priest. The other officers were amused at the baiting.
" Priest not with girls," went on the captain.
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“ Priest never with girk." he explained to me. He took my glass and filled it, looking at my eyes all the time, but not losing sight of the pr^.
“Priest every night five against one.” Every one at the table laughed. “ You understand ? Priest every night five ag^nst one.” He made a gesture and laughed loudly. fThe priest accepted it as a joke. J
“The Pope wants the Austrians to win the war,” the major said. ” He loves Franz Joseph. That’s where the money comes from. I am an atheist.”
“Did you ever read the Black Pigi “ asked the lieutenant. “ I will get you a copy. It was that which shook my faith.”
“ It is a filthy and vile book,” said the priest.
“ You do not re^y like it.”
“ It is very valuable,” said the lieutenant. “ It tells you about those priests. You will like it,” he said to me. I smiled at the priest and he smiled back across the candlelight. “ Don’t you read it,” he said.
“ I will get it for you,” said the lieutenant.
"All thinking men are atheists,” the major said. “I do not believe in the Freemasons, however.”
"I believe in the Freemasons,” the lieutenant said. ”It is a noble organization.” Someone came in and as the door opened I could see the snow falling.
“ There will be no more offensive now that the snow has come,” I said.
“Certainly not,” said the major. “You should go on leave. You should go to Rome, Naples, Sicily - ”
" He should visit Amalfi,” said the lieutenant. “ I will write you cards to my family in Amalfi. They will love you like a son.”
“ He should go to Palermo.”
‘‘ He ought to go to Capri.”
/ I would like you to see Abruzzi and visit my • family at Capracotta,” said the priest.
Listen to him talk about the Abruzzi. There’s
more snov^there than here. He doesn’t want to see
pea^ts. Let him go to centres of culture and civilization.”
He should have fine girls. I will give you the
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
addresses of places in Naples. Beautiful young girls — accompanied by their mothers. Ha! Ha I Hal”
He looked at the priest and shouted, ” Every night priest five against one ! ” They all laughed again.
“You must go on leave at once,” the major said.
" I would hkc to go with you and show you things,” the lieutenant said.
” When you come back bring a phonograph.”
” Bring good opera disks.”
” Bring Caruso.”
” Don’t bring Caruso. He bellows.”
” Don’t you wish you could bellow like him ? ”
” He bellows. I say he bellows I ”
*' I would Uke you to go to Abruzzi,” the priest said. The others were shouting. “ There is good hunting. You would like the people and though it is cold it is clear and dry. You could stay with my family. My father is a famous hunter.”
“Come on,” said the captain. “We go whore¬ house before it shuts.”
“ Good night,” I said to the priest.
“ Good night,” he said.
CHAPTER III
When I came back to the front we still lived in that town. There were many more guns in the country around and the spring had come. The fields were green and there were small green shoots on the vines, the trees along the road had small leaves and a breeze came from the sea. I saw the town with the hill and the old castle above it in a cup in the hills with the mountains beyond, brown mountains with a little green on their slopes. In the town there were more guns, there were some new hospitals, you met British men and sometimes women, on the street, and a few more houses had been hit by shell-fire. It was warm and like the spring and I walked down tlie alleyway of trees, warmed from the sun on the wall, and found we
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
Still lived in tKe same house and that it all looked the same as when I had left it. The door was open, there was a soldier sitting on a bench outside in the sun, an ambulance was waiting by the side door and inside the door, as I went in, there was the smell of marble floors and hospital. It was all as I had left it except that now it was spring. I looked in the door of the big room and saw the major sitting at his desk, the window open and the sunlight coming into the room. He did not see me and I did not know whether to go in and report or go upstairs first and clean up. I decided to go on upstairs.
The room I shared with the lieutenant Rinaldi looked out on the courtyard. The window was open, my bed was made up with blankets and my things hung on the wall, the gas-mask in an oblong tin can, the steel helmet on the same peg. At the foot of the bed was my flat trunk, and my winter boots, the leather shiny with oil, were on the trunk. My Austrian sniper’s rifle with its blued octagon barrel and the lovely dark walnut, cheek-fitted, schutzen stock, hung over the two beds. The telescope that fitted it was, I remembered, locked in the trunk. The lieutenant, Rinaldi, lay asleep on the other bed. He woke when he heard me in the room and sat up.
“ Ciaou 1 " he said. “ What kind of time did you have ? ”
“ Magnificent."
We shook hands and he put his arm around my neck and kissed me.
" Oughf,” I said.
'* You’re dirty,” he said. ” You ought to wash. Where did you go and what did you do ? Tell me everything at once.”
” I went everywhere. Milan, Florence, Rome, Naples, Villa San Giovanni, Messina, Taormina — ”
“You talk like a time-table. Did you have any beautiful adventures ? ”
“ Yes ”
*; Where ? ”
“ Milano, Firenze, Roma, Napoli - ”
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“ That’s enough. Tell me really what was the best.”
“ In Milano.”
^ ” That was because it was first. Where did you
meet her ? In the Cova ? WTiere did you go ? How did you feel ? Tell me everything at once. Did you stay all night ? ”
" Yes.”
" That’s nothing. Here now we have beautiful girls. New girls never been to the front before.”
” Wonderful.”
. "You don't believe me? We will go now this afternoon and see. And in the town we have beautiful English girls. I am now in love with Miss Barkley. I will take you to call. I will probably marry Miss Barkley.”
” I have to get washed and report. Doesn't any¬ body work now ? ”
“ Since you are gone we have nothing but frost- ! bites, chilblains, jaundice, gonorrhoea, self-inflicted '1 wounds, pneumonia and hard and soft chancres. T Every week someone gets wounded by rock fragments. There are a few real wounded. Next week the war starts again. Perhaps it starts again. They say so. Do you think I would do right to marry Miss Barkley — after the war of course ? ”
'' Absolutely,” I said and poured the basin full of water.
” To-night you will tell me everything,” said Rinaldi. ” Now I must go back to sleep to be fresh and beautiful for Miss Barkley.”
I took off my tunic and shirt and washed in the cold water in the basin. While I rubbed myself with a towel I looked around the room and out the window and at Rinaldi lying with his eyes closed on the bed. He was good-looking, was my age, and he came from Amalfi. He loved being a surgeon and we were great friends. While I was looking at him he opened his eyes.
” Have you any money ? ”
” Yes.”
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A FAREWELL TO ARTOIS
“ I^an me fifty lire.”
I dried my hands and took out my pocket-book from the inside of my tunic hanging on the wall. Rinaldi took the note, folded it vrithout rising from the bed and slid it in his breeches pocket. He smiled, ” 1 must make on Miss Barkley the impression of a man of sufficient wealth. You are my great atid good friend and financial protector.”
" Go to heU,” I said.
That night at the mess I sat next to the priest and he was disappointed and suddenly hurt that I had not gone to the Abruzzi. He had written to his father that I was coming and they had made preparations.
I myself felt as badly as he did and could not under¬ stand why I had not gone. It was what I bad wanted to do and I tried to explain how one thing had led to another and finally he saw it and understood that I h^ really wanted to go and it was almost all right.
I had drunk much wine and afterwards coffee and Strega and I explained, winefully, how we did not do the things we wanted to do ; we never did such things.
We two were talking while the others argued. I had wanted to go to Abruzzi. I had gone to no place where the roads were frozen and hard as iron, where it was clear, cold and dry and the snow was dry and powdery and hare-tracks in the snow and the peasants took ofi their hats and called you Lord and there was good hunting. I had gone to no such place but to the smoke of caf4s and nights when the room whirled and you needed to look at the wall to make it stop, nights in bed, drunk, when you knew that that was all there was, and the strange excitement of w'aking and not knowing who it was with you, and the world all unreal in the dark and so exciting that you must resume I yagain u^nowing and not caring in the night, sure
i c ^ ^ ^ caring.
Su(Wenly to care very much and to sleep, to wake I with it sometimes morning and all that had been there I §0^® and everything sharp and hard and clear ^d i sometimes a dispute about the cost. Sometimes still pleasant and fond and warm and breakfast and lunch.
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
Sometimes all niceness gone and glad to get out on the street but always another day starting and then another night. I tried to tell about the night and the difference between the night and the day and how the night was better unless the day was very clean and cold and I could not tell it : as I cannot tell it now. But if you have had it you know. He had not had it but he understood that I had really wanted to go to the Abruzzi but had not gone and w^ were still 1 friends, with niany tastes alike, but with the difference ! b^weeji -us. He h^ always known what I did not know and what, when I learned it, I was always able to forget. But I did not know that then, although I learned it later. In the meantime we were all at the mess, the meal was finished, and the argument went on. We two stopped talking and the captain shouted, “ Priest not happy. Priest not happy without girls.”
“ I am happy,” said the priest.
“ Priest not happy. Priest wants Austrians to win the war,” the captain said. The others listened. The priest shook his head.
"No.” he said.
“ Priest wants us never to attack. Don't you want us never to attack ? ”
" No. If there is a war I suppose we must attack.”
“ Must attack. Shall attack ! ”
The priest nodded.
" Leave him alone,” the major said. " He's all right.”
" He can't do anything about it anyway,” the captain said. We all got up and left the table.
CHAPTER IV
The battery in the next garden woke me in the morning and I saw the sun coming through the window and got out of the bed. I went to the window and looked out. The gravel paths were moist and the grass was wet with dew. The
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
battery fired twice and the air came each time like a blow and shook the window and made the front of my gramas flap. I could not see the guns but they were evidently firing directly over us. It was a nuisance to have them there but it was a comfort that they were no bigger. As I looked out at the garden I heard a motor-truck starting on the road. I dressed, went downstairs, had some coffee in the kitchen and went out to the garage.
Ten cars were lined up side by side under the long shed. They were top-heavy, blunt-nosed ambulances, painted grey and built like moving vans. The mechanics were working on one out in the yard. Three others were up in the mountains at dressing- stations.
“ Do they ever shell that battery ? " I asked one of the mechanics.
“ No, Signor Tenente. It is protected by the Httle hill.”
“ How’s everything ? ”
“ Not so bad. This machine is no good but the others march.” He stopped working and smiled. “ Were you on permission ? ”
” Yes.”
He wiped his hands on his jumper and grinned. ” You have a good time ? ” The others all grinned too.
” Fine,” I said. ” What’s the matter with this machine ? ’ ’
“It’s no good. One thing after another.”
“What's the matter now? ”
“New rings.”
I left them working, the car looking disgraced and empty with the engine open and parts spread on the work-bench, and went in under the shed and looked at ea^ of the cars. They were moderately clean, a few freshly washed, the others dusty. I looked at ^e ty^ carefully, looking for cuts or stone bruises, liverythmg seemed in good condition. It evidently made no difference whether I was there to look after things or not, I had imagined that the condition of tne cars, whether or not things were obtainable, the
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
smooth functioning of the business of removing wounded and sick from the dressing-stations, hauling them back from the mountains to the clearing-station and then distributing them to the hospitals named on their papers, depended to a considerable extent on myself. Evidently it did not matter whether I was there or not.
" Has there been any trouble getting parts ? " I asked the sergeant mechanic.
“No, Signor Tenente."
" Where is the gasolene park now ? ”
" At the same place."
'' Good," I said and went back to the house and drank another bowl of coffee at the mess table. The coffee was a pale grey and sweet with condensed milk. Outside the \vindow it was a lovely spring morning. There was that beginning of a feeling of dryness in the nose that meant the day would be hot later on. That day I visited the posts in the mountains and was back in town late in the afternoon.
The whole thing seemed to run better while I was away. The offensive was going to start again I heard. The division for which we worked were to attack at a place up the river and the major told me that I would see about the posts for during the attack. The attack would cross the river up above the narrow gorge and spread up the hillside. The posts for the cars would have to be as near the river as they could get and keep covered. They would, of course, be selected by the infantry but we were supposed to work it out. It was one of those things that gave you a false feeling of soldiering. f I was very dusty and dirty and went up to my room ■ to wash. Rinaldi was sitting on the bed with a copy of Hugo's English grammar. He was dressed, wore his black boots, and his hair shone.
“Splendid," he ' said when he saw me. “You will come with me to see Miss Barkley ? "
" No."
“ Yes. You \vill please come and make me a good impression on her."
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“All right. Wait till I get cleaned up.”
“Wash up and come as you are.”
I washed, brushed my hair and we started.
“ Wait a minute,” Rinaldi said. " Perhaps we should have a drink.” He opened his trunk and took out a bottle.
“ Not Strega,” I said.
“ No. Grappa.”
“AU right.”
He poured two glasses and we touched them, first fingers extended. The grappa was very strong.
“ Another ? ”
“ All right,” I said. We drank the second grappa, Rinaldi put away the bottle and we went down the stairs. It was hot walking through the town but the sun was starting to go down and it was very pleasant. The British hospit^ . w^-A. bis_ vjUS- built . by Germ^s Miss Barkley was
in the garden. Another nurse was with her. We saw their white uniforms through the trees and walked toward them. Rinaldi saluted. I saluted too but more moderately.
“ How do you do ? ” Miss Barkley said. “ You’re not an Italian are you ? ”
“ Oh. no.”
Rinaldi was talking with the other nurse. They were laughing.
“What an odd thing — to be in the Italian army,”
“ It’s not really the army. It's only the ambulance.”
“ It’s very odd though. Why did you do it ? ”
I don't know,” I said. “ There isn't always an explanation for everything.” , ; ^
I was brought up to think there/ i was.'^ - - — ^ - ''
^ That's awfully nice.”
“ Do we have to go on and talk this wav ? ”
No,” I said. ^
That’s a relief. Isn’t it ? ”
“What is the stick?” I asked. Miss Barkley was quite- tall. She wore ^Yhat semed to me to be
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
a nurse’s uniform, was blonde and had a tawny skin and grey eyes. I thought she was very beautiful. She was carrying a thin rattan stick like a toy riding- crop, bound in leather.
“It belonged to a boy who was killed last year.”
" I'm awfully sorry."
“ He was a very nice boy. He was going to
marry me and he was killed on the Somme."
“It was a ghastly show."
“ Were you there ? "
“ No."
“ I’ve heard about it," she said. " There’s not
really any war of that sort down here. They sent me
the little stick. His mother sent it to me. They
returned it with his things."
“ Had you been engaged long ? ”
“ Eight years. We grew up together."
“ And why didn't you marry ? "
“ I don’t know,” she said. “ I was a fool not to. I could have given him that anyway. But I thought it would be bad for him."
“ I see."
“ Have you ever loved anyone ? "
“ No," I said.
We sat down on a bench, and I looked at her.
“ You have beautiful hair," I said.
“ Do you like it ? "
" Very much."
“ I was going to cut it all off when he died."
“No."
“ I wanted to do something for him. You see I didn’t care about the other thing and he could have had it all. He could have had anything he wanted if I had known. I would have married him or anything. I know all about it now. But then he wanted to go to war and I didn't know."
I did not say anything.
“ I didn't know about anything then. I thought it would be worse for him. I thought perhaps he couldn't stand it and then of course he was killed and that was the end of it."
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ti
it
“ 1 don’t know-."
"Oh. yes,” she said. "That’s the end of it.”
We looked at Rinaldi talking with the other nurse. " What was her name ? ”
"Ferguson. Helen Ferguson. Your friend is a doctor, isn't he ? ”
Yes. He’s very good.”
That’s splendid. You rarely find anyone any good thi<; close to the front. This is close to the fiont, isn’t it ? ”
" Quite.”
" It’s a silly front,” she said. " But it's very beautiful. Are they going to have an offensive ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ Then we’ll have to work. There’s no work now.” “ Have you done nursing long ? ”
" Since the end of fifteen. I started when he did. I remember having a silly idea he might come to the hospital, where I was. With a sabre cut, I suppose, and a bandage around his head. Or shot through the shoulder. Something picturesque.”
"This is the picturesque front,” I said.
" Yes,” she said. " People can’t realize what France is like. If they did it couldn’t ail go on. He didn’t have a sabre cut. They blew him all to bits.” I didn’t say anything.
*' Do you suppose it will always go on ? ”
What’s to stop it ? ”
It will crack somewhere.”
We'll crack. We’ll crack in France. They can t go on doing things like' the Somme and not crack.”
"They won’t crack here,” I said.
" You think not ? ”
No. They did very well last summer.” cra(^ crack,” she said. " Anybody may
The Germans too.”
.,_,_No,” she said. " I think not.”
• ^®nt over towards Rinaldi and Miss Ferguson.
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“ You love Italy ? ” Rinaldi asked Miss Ferguson in English.
“ Quite weU.”
'' No understand/’ Rinaldi shook his head.
“ Bastante bene,” I translated, He shook his head.
” That is not good. You love England ? ”
“Not too well. I’m Scottish, you see.”
Rinaldi looked at me blankly.
” She’s Scottish, so she loves Scotland better than England,” I said in Italian.
“ But Scotland is England.”
I translated this for Miss Ferguson.
” Pas encore.” said Miss Ferguson.
“ Not reaUy ? ”
“ Never. We do not like the English.”
” Not like the English ? Not like Miss Barkley ? ”
“ Oh, that’s different. She's partly Scottish too. You mustn’t take everything so hterally.”
After a while we said good night and left. Walk¬ ing home Rinaldi said, “ Miss Barkley prefers you to me. That is very clear. But the little Scottish one is very nice.”
“Very,” I said. I had not noticed her. “You Uke her ? ”
“No,” said Rinaldi.
CHAPTER V
The next afternoon I went to call on Miss Barkley again. She was not in the garden and I went to the side door of the villa where the ambulances drove up. Inside I saw the head nurse, who said Miss Barkley was on duty — “ there's a war on, you know.”
I said I knew.
“ You’re the American in the Italian army ? ” she asked.
“ Yes, ma’am.”
“ How did you happen to do that ? Why didn’t you join up with us ? ”
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
" I don’t know,” I said. ” Could I join now ? ”
” I’m afraid not now. Tell me. Why did you join up with the Italians ? ”
“I was in Italy,” I said, “and I spoke Italian.”
“ Oh,” she .said. “ I’m learning it. It's a beauti¬ ful language.”
" Somebody said you should be able to learn it in two weeks.”
“ Oh, I’ll not learn it in two weeks. I’ve studied it for months now. You may come and see her after seven o'clock if you wish. She'll be off then. But don’t bring a lot of Italians.”
" Not even for the beautiful language ? ”
“ No. Nor for the beautiful uniforms.”
“ Good evening,” I said.
“ A rivederci, Tenente.”
“ A rivederla.” I saluted and went out. It was iinpossible to salute foreigners as an Italian, without embarrassment. The Italian salute . never... seemed ■ made Tor export. .
The day had" been hot. I had been up the river to the bridge-head at jlava. It was there that the offensive was to begin. It had been impossible to advance on the far side the year before because there was only one road leading down from the pass to the pontoon bridge and it was under machine-gun and shell fire for nearly a mile. It was not wide enough either to carry all the transport for an offensive and the Austrians could make a shambles out of it. But the Italians had crossed and spread out a little way on the far side to hold about a mile and a half on the Austrian side of the i-iver. It was a nasty place and the Austrians should not have let them hold it. I suppose it was mutual tolerance because the Austrians still kept a bridge-head further down the river. The Austrian trenches were above on the hillside only a few yards from the Italian lines. There had been a Uttle town but it was all rubble. There was what left of a railway station and a smashed permanent
ridge that could not be repaired and used because it was m plain sight. /^“-n
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
I went along the narrow road down towards the river, left the car at the dressing-station under the hill, crossed the pontoon bridge, which was protected by a shoulder of the mountain, and went through the trenches in the smashed-down town and along the edge of the slope. Everybody was in the dugouts. There were racks of rockets standing to be touched off to call for help from the artillery or to signal with if the telephone wires were cut. It was quiet, hot and dirty. I looked across the wire at the Austrian lines. Nobody was in sight. I had a drink with a captain that I knew in one of the dugouts and went back across the bridge.
A new wide road was being finished that would go over the mountain and zigzag down to the bridge. When this road was finished the offensive would start. It came down through the forest in sharp turns. The system was to bring everything down the new road and take the empty trucks, carts and loaded ambulances and all returning traffic up the old narrow road. The dressing-station was on the 'Austrian side of the river under the edge of the hill and stretcher-bearers would bring the wounded back across the pontoon bridge. It would be the same when the offensive started. As far as I could make out the last mile or so of the new road where it started to level out would be able to be shelled steadily by the Austrians. It looked as though it might be a mess. But I found a place where the cars would be sheltered after they had passed that last bad-looking bit and could wait for the wounded to be brought across the pontoon bridge. I would have liked to drive over the new road but it was not yet finished. It looked wide and well made with a good grade and the turns looked very impressive where you could see them through openings in the forest on the mountain-side. The cars would be all right with their good metal-to-metal brakes and anyway, coming down, they would not be loaded. I drove back up the narrow road.
Two carabinieri held the car up. A shell had
26
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
fallen and while we waited three others fell up the road. They were seventy-sevens and came with a whishing rush of air, a hard bright burst and flash and then grey smoke that blew across the road. The carabinieri waved us to go on. Passing where the shells had landed I avoided the small broken places and smelled the liigh explosive and the smell of blasted clay and stone and freshly-shattered flint. I drove back to Gorizia and our viUa and, as I said, went to call on Miss Barkley, who was on duty.
At dinner I ate very quickly and left for the villa where the British had their hospital. It was really very large and beautiful and there were fine trees in the grounds. Miss Barkley was sitting on a bench in the garden. Miss Ferguson was with her. They seemed glad to see me and in a little while Miss Ferguson excused herself and went away.
“ rU leave you two,” she said. ” You get along very well without me.”
” Don’t go, Helen,” Miss Barkley said.
“I'd really rather. Tmust write some letters.”
” Good night,” I said.
” Good night, Mr. Henry.*’
“ Don’t write anything that will bother the censor.”
*' Dfn’t worry. I only write about what a beautiful place we live in and how brave the Italians are.”
“That way you’ll be decorated.”
That will be nice. Good night, Catherine.” lU see you in a little while,” Miss Barkley said. Miss Ferguson walked away in the dark.
“ She's nice,” I said.jpe
'' Oh, yes, she's very nice. She's a nurse.”
^ Aren’t you a nurse? ”
*'Oh, no. I'm something called a V.A.D. We work very hard but no one trusts us.”
"Why not?”
«« don’t trust us when there’s nothing going
^ they trust us.”
What is the difference ? ”
27
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
" A nurse is like a doctor. It takes a long time to be. A V.A.D. is a short cut.”
” I see.”
” The Italians didn’t want women so near the front. So we're all on very special behaviour. We don’t go out.”
" I can come here though.”
” Oh, yes. We're not cloistered.”
“ Let's drop the war.”
"It’s very hard. There's no place to drop it.”
" Let's drop it asiywa.y”
" AU right.”
We looked at each other in the dark. I thought
unro:
her arm.
put my
" No,” she said. I kept my arm where it was.
" Why not ? ”
"No.”
“Yes,” I said. "Please.” I leaned forward in the dark to kiss her and there was a sharp stinging flash. She had slapped my face hard. Her hand had hit my nose and eyes, and tears came in my eyes from the reflex.
"I’m so sorry,” she said. I felt I had a certain advantage.
" You were quite right.”
" I'm dreadfully sorry,” she said. " I just couldn't stand the nurse's-evening-off aspect of it. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I did hurt you, didn't I ? ”
She was looking at me in the dark. I was angry and yet certain, seeing it all ahead like the moves in a chess game.
" You did exactly right,” I said. " I don’t mind at aU.”
" Poor man.”
" You see I've been leading a sort of a funny hfe. And I never even talk English. And then you are so very beautiful.” I looked at her.
" You don’t need to say a lot of nonsense. I said I was sorry. We do get along.”
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
" Yes, I said. " And we have gotten away from the war.”
She laughed. It was the first time I had ever heard her laugh. I watched her face.
" You are sweet," she said.
"No, I'm not."
"Yes. You are a dear. I’d be glad to kiss you if you don’t mind.”
I looked in her eyes and put my arm around her as I had before and kissed her. I kissed lier hard and held her tight and tried to open her lips ; they were closed tight. I was still angry and as I held her suddenly she shivered. I held her close against couW feel her heart beating and lier lips ope!!?a and her head went back against my hand and then she was crying on my shoulder.
Oh, darling," she said. " You will be good to me, won't you ? ”
What the hell, I thought. I stroked her hair and patted her shoulder. She was crying.
„ 'vill, won’t you?” She looked up at me.
because we re going to have a strange life."
After a whQe I walked with her to the door of the
w^i • s^went upstairs to the room. Rinaldi w^ lymg on his bed. He looked at me.
^ bo you make progress with Miss Barkley ? "
We are. friends."
T pleasant air of a dog in heat.”
1 ^d not understand the word.
Of a what ? ”
He explained.
who^^^" ^ pleasant air of a dog
say tiwuU-ina fv tt* ^ while we would
say insultmg thmgs." He laughed.
„ Good night,” I said. ^
^od night, Uttle puppy."
into the dJ?k^
candle, lit it and went on
29
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
CHAPTER VI
I WAS away for two days at the posts. When I got home it was too late and I did not see Miss Barkley until the next evening. She was not in the garden and I had to wait in the office of the hospital until she came down. There were many marble busts on painted wooden pillars along the walls of the room they used for an office. The hall too, that the office opened on, was lined with them. They had the complete marble quality of all looking alike. Sculpture had always seemed a dull business — still bronzes looked like something. But marble busts all looked like a cemetery. There was one fine cemetery though — the one at Pisa. Genoa was the place to see the bad marbles. This had been the villa of a very wealthy German and the busts must have cost him plenty. I wondered who had done them and how much he got. I tried to make out whether they were members of the family or what ; but they were all uniformly classical. You could not tell anything about them.
I sat on a chair and held my cap. We were supposed, to wear steel helmets even in Gorizia but they were uncomfortable and too theatricaTin a town where the exilian inhabitants had not been evacuated. I wore one when we went up to the posts, and carried an English gas-mask. We were just beginning to get some of them. They were a real mask. Also we were required to wear an automatic pistol ; even doctors and sanitary officers. I felt it against the back of the chair. You were liable to arrest if you did not have one worn in plain sight. Rinaldi carried a holster stuffed with toilet paper. I wore a real one and felt like a gunman until I practised firing it. It was an Astra 7-65 calibre with a short barrel and it jumped so sharply when you let it off that there was no question of hitting anything. I practised with it, holding below the target and trying
30
to master the jerk of the ridiculous short barrel until I could hit within a yard of where I aimed at twenty paces and then the ridiculousness of carrying a pistol at all came over me and I soon forgot it and carried it flopping against the small of my back with no feeling at all except a vague sort of shame when I met English-speaking people. I sat now in the chair and an orderly of some sort looked at me dis¬ approvingly from behind a desk while I looked at the marble floor, the pillars with the marble busts, and the frescoes on the wall and waited for Miss Barkley. The frescoes were not bad. Any frescoes were good when they started to peel and flake off.
I saw Catherine Barkley coming down the hall, and stood up. She did not seem t^ walking toward me but she looked very lovely.
“Good evening, Mr. Henry," she said. '
“ How do you do ? " I said. The orderly was listening behind the desk.
“ Shall we sit here or go out in the garden ? "
“Let’s go out. It’s much cooler."
I walked behind her out into the garden, the orderly looking after us. When we were out on the gravel onye she said, “ Wh^ have you been ? "
“I’ve been out on' post."
“ You couldn’t have sent me a note ? "
“ No,” I said. " Not very well. I thought I was coming back."
“ You ought to have let me know, darling."
We were off the driveway, walking under the trees. I took her hands, then stopped and kissed her.
“ Isn’t there anywhere we can go ? "
No,” she said. “ We have to just walk here. You ve been away a long time."
This is the third day. But Tm back now.”
She looked at me. “ And do you love me ? "
Yes.”
You did ^y you loved me, didn’t you ? "
. , Yes, I lied. “ I love you." I had not said it before.
“ And you call me Catherine ? ”
31
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
Catherine.” We walked on a way and we stopped under a tree.
*' Say, ‘ I've come back to Catherine in the night.’ ”
” I’ve come back to Catherine in the night.”
Oh, darling, you have come back, haven’t vou ? ”
” Yes.”
” I love you so and it’s been awful. You won’t tro away ? ”
" No. I’ll always come back.”
” Oh, I love you so. Please put your hand there again.”
” It’s not been away.” I turned her so I could see her face when I kissed her and I saw that her eyes were shut. I kissed both her shut eyes. I thought she was probably a little crazy. It was all right if she was. I did not care what I was getting into. This was better than going every evening to the house for officers where the girls climbed all over you and put your cap on backward as a sign of affection between their trips upstairs with brother officers. I knew I did not love Catherine Barkley nor had any idea of loving her. This was a game, like bridge, in which you said things instead of playing cards. Like bridge you had to pretend you were playing for money or playing for some stakes. Nobody had mentioned what the stakes v/ere. It was all right with me.
” I wish there was some place we could go,” I said. I was experiencing the masculine difficulty of making love very long standing up.
” There isn’t any place,” she said. She came back from wherever she had been.
” We might sit there just for a little while.”
We sat on the flat stone bench and I held Catherine Barkley’s hand. She would not let me put my arm around her.
" Are you very tired ? ” she asked.
“No.”
She looked down at the grass.
“ This is a rotten game jye play, isn’t it ? ”
“ What game ? ’
32
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
Don't be dull.”
“ I'm not, on purpose.”
“ You’re a nice boy,” she said. ” And you play it as well as you know how. But it's a rotten game.”
“ Do you always know what people think ? ”
“Not always. But I do with you. You don’t have to pretend you love me. That's over for the evening. Is there anything you’d like to talk about ? ”
" But I do love you.”
“ Please let’s not lie when we don't have to. I had a very fine little show and I'm all right now. You see I'm not mad and I'm not gone off. It's only a little sometimes.”
I pressed her hand. “ Dear Catherine.”
” It sounds very funny now — Catherine. You don't pronounce it very much alike. But you're very nice. You're a very good boy.”
‘I That's what the priest said.”
” Yes, you're very good. And you will come and see me ? ”
” Of course.”
“And you don’t have to say you love me. That's all over for a while.” She stood up and put out her hand. “ Good night.”
I wanted to kiss her.
“ No,” she said. ” I’m awfully tired.”
“Kiss me, though,” I said.
“ I’m a^vfully tired, darling.”
“ Kiss me.”
“ Do you want to very much ? ”
“ Yes.”
^ n 1^ * T , . . away suddenly. " No.
^od mght, please, darling.” We walked to the aoor and I saw her go in and down the hall. I liked to watch her move. She went on down the haU. I
orsrsA It wos a hot night and there was a
fl ^ mountains. I watched
the flashes on San Gabriele.
of the Villa Rossa. The shutters p but it was still going on inside. Somebody
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
was singing. I went on home. Rinaldi came in while I was undressing.
“ Ah, ha ! " he said. “ It does not go so well. Baby is puzzled."
" Where have you been ? "
" At the Villa Rossa. It was very edifying, baby. We all sang. Where have you been ? ”
" Calling on the British."
" Thank God I did not become involved with the British."
CHAPTER VII
1 CAME back the next afternoon from our first .mountain post and stopped the car at the smistamento where the wounded and sick were sorted by their papers and the papers marked for the different hospitals. I had been driving and I sat in the car and the driver took the papers in. It was a hot day and the sky was very bright and blue and the road was white and dusty. I sat in the high seat of the Fiat and thought about nothing. A regiment went by in the road and I watched them pass. The men were hot and sweating. Some wore their steel helmets but most of them carried them slung from their packs. Most of the helmets were too big and came down almost over the ears of the men who wore them. The ofi&cers all wore helmets ; better-fitting helmets. It was half of the Brigata Basilicata. I identified them by their red and white striped collar mark. There were stragglers going by long after the regiment had passed — men who could not keep up with their platoons. They were sweaty, dusty and tired. Some looked pretty bad. A soldier came along after the last of the stragglers. He was walking with a limp. He stopped and sat down beside the road. I got down and went over.
" What’s the matter ? **
34
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
He looked at me, then stood up.
“ I'm going on.”
" What's the trouble ? ”
“ — the war.”
“ What’s wrong with your leg ? ”
"It’s not my leg. I got a rupture.”
"Why don’t you ride with the transport?” I asked. " Why don’t you go to the hospital ? ”
" They won’t let me. The lieutenant said I slipped the truss on purpose.”
“ Let me feel it.”
“ It’s way out.”
" Which side is it on ? ”
" Here.”
I felt it.
"Cough,” I said.
I’m afraid it will make it bigger. It’s twice as big as it was this morning.”
" Sit down,” I said. " As soon as I get the papers on these wounded I’ll take you along the road and drop you with your medical officers.”
“ He’ll say I did it on purpose.”
" They can’t do anything,” I said. " It’s not a wound. You’ve had it before, haven’t you ? ”
" But I lost the truss.”
" They’ll send you to a hospital.”
" Can’t I stay here, Tenente ? ”
"No. I haven’t any papers for you.”
The driver came out of the door with the papers for the wounded in the car.
Four for 105. Two for 132,” he said. They hospitals beyond the river,
drive, I said. I helped the soldier with the rapture up on the seat with us.
You speak English ? ” he asked.
Sure.”
How you like this goddam war ? ”
Rotten.”
rotten. ^ ‘‘"s
" Were you in the States ? ”
35
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“ Sure. In Pittsburg. I knew you was an American.”
” Don’t I talk Italian good enough ? ”
” I knew you was an American all right.”
” Another American,” said the driver in Italian, looking at the hernia man.
” Listen, lootenant. Do you have to take me to that regiment ? ”
" Yes.”
" Because the captain doctor knew I had this rupture. I threw away the goddam truss so it would get bad and I wouldn't have to go to the line again.”
"I see.”
” Couldn’t you take me no place else ? ”
” If it was closer to the front I could take you to a first medical post. But back here you've got to have papers.”
” If I go back they’ll make me get operated on and then they'll put me in the line all the time.”
I thought it over.
” You wouldn't want to go in the line all the time, would you ? ” he asked.
” No.”
” Jesus Christ, ain’t this a goddam war ? ”
“Listen,” I said. “You get out and fall down by the road and get a bump on your head and I'll pick you up on our way back and take you to a hospital. We’ll stop by the road here, Aldo.” We stopped at the side of the road. I helped him down.
“ ru be right here, lieutenant,” he said.
“So long,” I said. We went on and passed the regiment about a mile aliead, then crossed the river, cloudy with snow water and running fast through the spiles of the bridge, to ride along the road across the plain and deliver the wounded at the two hospitals.
I drove coming back and went fast with the empty car to find the man from Pittsburg. First we passed the regiment, hotter and slower than ever : then the stragglers. Then we saw a horse ambulance stopped by the road. Two men were lifting the hernia man
36
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
to put him in. They had come back for him. He shook his head at me. His helmet was off and his forehead was bleeding below the hair line. His nose was skinned and there was dust on the bloody patch and dust in his hair.
“ Look at the bump, lieutenant ! " he shouted. “ Nothing to do. They come back for me."
When I got back to the villa it was five o'clock and I went out where we washed the cars, to take a shower. Then I made out my report in my room, sitting in my trousers and an undershirt in front of the open window. In two days the offensive was to start and I would go with the cars to Plava. It was a long time since I had written to the States and I knew I should write but I had let it go so long that it was almost impossible to write now. There was nothing to write about. I sent a couple of army Zona di Guerra post-cards, crossing out everything except I am well. That should handle them. Those post-cards would be very fine in America ; strange and mysterious. This was a strange and mysterious war zone but I supposed it was quite well run and grim compared to other wars with the Austrians. The Austrian army was created to give Napoleon victories ; any Napoleon. I wish we had a Napoleon, but instead we had II Generale Cadoma, fat and prosperous, and Vittorio Emmanuele, the tiny man with the long thin neck and the goat beard. Over on the right they had the Duke of Aosta. Maybe he was too good-looking to be a great general but he looked like a man. Lots of them would have liked him to be king. He looked like a king. He was the King s uncle and commanded the third army. We were m the second army. There were some British batteries up with the third army. I had met two gunners from that lot, in Milan. They were very lUce and we had a big evening. They were big and shy and embarrassed and very appreciative together
?k happened. I wished that I was witli
the Bntish. It would have been much simpler. Still
37
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
I would probably have been kiUed. Not in this ambulance business. Yes, even in the ambulance business. British ambulance drivers were killed sometimes. Well. I knew I would not be killed. Not in this war. It did not have anything to do with me. It seemed no more dangerous to me myself than war in the movies. I wished to God it was over though. Maybe it would finish this summer. Maybe the Austrians would crack. They had always cracked in other wars. What was the matter with this war ? Everybody said the French were through. Rinaldi said that the French had mutinied and troops marched on Paris. I asked him what happened and he said, “ Oh, they stopped them." I wanted to go to Austria without war. I wanted to go to the Black Forest. I wanted to go to the Hartz Mountains. Where were the Hartz Mountains anyway ? They were fighting in the Carpathians. I did not want to go there anyway. It might be good though. I could go to Spain if there was no war. The sun was going do\vn and the day was cooling off. After supper I would go and see Catherine Barkley. I wished she were here now. I wished I were in Milan with her. I would like to eat at the Cova and then walk down the Via Manzoni in the hot evening and cross over and turn off along the canal and go to the hotel with Catherine Barkley. Maybe she would. Maybe she would pretend that I was her boy that was killed and we would go in the front door and the porter would take off his cap and I would stop at the concierge's desk and ask for the key and she would stand by the elevator and then we would get in the elevator and it would go up very slowly click¬ ing at all the floors and then our floor and the boy would open the door and stand there and she would step out and I w’ould step out and w'e would walk down the hall and I would put the key in the door and open it and go in and then take down the telephone and ask them to send a bottle of capri bianco in a silver bucket full of ice and you would hear the ice against the pail coming down the
38
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
corridor and the boy would knock and I would say leave it outside the door please. Because we would not wear any clothes because it was so hot and the window open and the swallows flying over the roofs of the houses and when it was dark afterward and you went to the window very small bats hunting over the houses and close down over the trees and we
would drink the capri and the door locked and it hot and only a sheet and the whole night and we would both love each other all night in the hot night in Milan. That was how it ought to be. I would eat quickly and go and see Catherine Barkley.
They talked too much at the mess and I drank wine because to-night we were not all brothers unless I drank a little and talked with the priest about Archbishop Ireland who was, it seemed, a noble man
and with whose injustice, the injustices he had received and in which I participated as an American, and of wliich I had never heard, I feigned acquaintance. It would have been impolite not to have known some¬ thing of them when I had listened to such a splendid explanation of their causes which were, after all, it seemed, misunderstandings. I thought he had a fine name and he came from Minnp5^a .wliich made a lovely name: Ireland of Minnesota, Ireland of Wisconsm, Ireland of Michigan. VVhat made it pretty was that it sounded like Island. No, that waOTt it. There was more to it than that. Yes, father. That is true, father. Perhaps, father. No, father. WeU, maybe yes, father. You know more
Jj. ^ father. The priest was good but diUl. The officers were not good but duU. The King was good but dull. The wine was bad but not dull It j
took the enamel off vour teeth and left it on thp rooT I of your moutK 7
And the priest was locked up,” Rocca said, ” be¬ muse they found the three per cent, bonds on his ^rson. It was m France, of course. Here they
He denied all the five per cent, bonds. This took place at B^zires. I was tW and reading of it in the
.-39^
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
paper went to the jail and asked to see the priest. It was quite evident, he had stolen the bonds.”
” I don’t believe a word of this,” Rinaldi said.
” Just as you like,” Rocca said. “ But I am tell¬ ing it for our priest here. It is very informative. He is a priest ; he will appreciate it.”
The priest smiled. “Go on,” he said. “I am listening.”
” Of course some of the bonds were not accoimted for but the priest had all of the three per cent, bonds and several local obligations, I forget exactly what they were. So I went to the jail, now this is the point of the story, and I stood outside his cell and 1 said as though I were going to confession, ‘ Bless me, father, for vou have sinned.’ ”
There was great laughter from everybody.
” And what did he say ? ” asked the priest. Rocca ignored this and went on to explain the joke to me. ” You see the point, don’t you ? ” It seemed it was a very funny joke if you understood it properly. They poured me more wine and I told the story about the English private soldier who was placed under the shower-bath. Then the major told the story of the eleven Czechoslovaks and the Hungarian co^oral. After some more wine I told the story of the jockey who found the penny. The major said there was an Italian story something like that about the duchess who could not sleep at night. At this point the priest left and I told the story about the travelling salesman w’ho arrived at five o’clock in the morning at Marseilles when the mistral was blowing. The major said he had heard a report that I could drink. I denied this. He said it was true and by the corpse of Bacchus we would test whether it was true or not. Not Bacchus. I said. Not Bacchus. Yes, Bacchus, he said. I should drink cup for cup and glass for glass with Bassi Fillipo Vincenza. Bassi said no that was no test because he had already drunk twice as much as I. I said that w'as a foul lie and, Bacchus or no Bacchus, Fillipo Vincenza Bassi or Bassi Fillipo Vincenza had never touched a drop all evening
40
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
and what was his name anj^vay ? He said was my name Federico Enrico or Enrico Federico ? I said let the best man win, Bacchus barred, and the major started us with red ^vine in mugs. Half-way through the \vine I did not want any more. I remembered where I was going.
“ Bassi wins," I said. "He’s a better man than I am. I have to go."
"He does really,” said Rinaldi. "He has a rendezvous. I know all about it."
" I have to go."
Another night," said Bassi. " Another night when you feel stronger." He slapped me on the shoulder. There were lighted candles on the table. All the officers were very happy. " Good night, gentlemen," I said.
Rinaldi went out with me. We stood outside the door on the path and he said, " You'd better not go up there drunk.”
" I'm not drunk, Rinin. Really."
" You’d better chew some coffee."
" Nonsense."
"ru get some, baby. You walk up and down." He came back with a handful of roasted coffee beans.
" Chew those, baby, and God be with vou.”
“ Bacchus," I said.
" m walk down with you."
" I’m perfectly all right."
We w^ed along together through the tovvn and I chewed the cofSee. At the gate of the driveway that led up to the British villa, Rinaldi said good night, ^od night,- I said. -Why don't you come
He shook his head. "No," he said. “I like the simpler pleasures."
„ coffee beans."
Nothing, baby. Nothing."
I started down the driveway. The outlines of the cypresses that lined it were sharp and clear. I looked
41
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
I sat in the reception hall of the villa waiting for Catherine Barkley to come down. Someone was coming down the hallway. I stood up, but it was not Catherine. It was Miss Ferguson.
“ Hello,” she said. ” Catherine asked me to tell you she was sorry she couldn't see you this evening.”
” I'm so sorry. I hope she's not ill.”
” She’s not awfully well.”
” Will you tell her how sorry I am ? ”
" Yes, I will.”
” Do you think it would be any good to try and see her to-morrow ? ”
“Yes, I do.”
“Thank you very much,” I said. “Good night.'
I went out the door and suddenly I felt lonely and empty. I had treated seeing Catherine very lightly, I had gotten somewhat drunk and had nearly forgotten to come, but when I could not see her there I was feeling lonely and hollow.
CHAPTER VIII
The next afternoon we heard there was to be an attack up the river that night and that we were to take four cars there. Nobody knew anything about it although they all spoke with great positiveness and strategical ^owledge. I was riding in the first car and as we passed the entry to the British hospital I told the driver to stop. The other cars pulled up. I got out and told the drivers to go on and that if we had not caught up to them at the junction of the road to Cormons to wait there. I hurried up the driveway and inside the reception hall I asked for Miss Barkley.
“ She's on duty.”
“ Could I see her just for a moment ? ”
They sent an orderly to see and she came back with him.
42
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
" I stopped to ask if you were better. They told me you were on duty, so I asked to see you.”
“I’m quite well,” she said. “I think the heat knocked me over yesterday.”
” I have to go.”
” I'll just step outside the door a minute.”
” And you're all right ? ” I asked outside.
” Yes, darling. Are you coming to-night ? ”
” No. I’m leaving now for a show up above Plava.”
"A show? ”
" I don’t think it’s anything.”
” And you’ll be back ? ”
"To-morrow.”
She was unclasping something from her neck. She put it in my hand. " It’s a Saint Anthony,” she said. " And come to-morrow night.’
" You’re not a Catholic, are you ? ”
" No. But they say a Saint Anthony's very useful.”
" I’ll take care of him for you. Good-bye.”
" No,” she said, " not good-bye.”
"All right.”
“Be a good boy and be careful. No, you can’t kiss me here. You can't.”
"All right.”
I looked back and saw her standing on the steps. She waved and I kissed my hand and held it out. She waved again and then I was out of the driveway and climbing up into the seat of the ambulance and we started. The Saint Anthony was in a little white met^ capsule. I opened the capsule and spilled him out mto my hand.
'' Saint Anthony ? ” asked the driver.
Yes.”
” I have one.” His right hand left the wheel and opened a button on his tunic and puUed it out from under his shirt.
" See ? ”
L , Saint Anthony back in the capsule,
spiued the thm gold chain together and put it all in my breast pocket.
43
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
You don’t wear him ? "
"No.”
" It's better to wear him. That’s what it’s for.”
" All right,” I said. I undid the clasp of the gold chain and put it around my neck and clasped it. The saint hung down on the outside of my uniform and I undid the throat of my tunic, unbuttoned the shirt collar and dropped him in under the shirt. I felt him in his metal box against my chest while we drove. Then I forgot about him. After I was wounded I never found him. Someone probably got it at one of the dressing-stations.
We drove fast when we were over the bridge and soon we saw the dust of the other cars ahead down the road. The road curved and we saw the three cars looking quite small, the dust rising from the wheels and going off through the trees. We caught them and passed them and turned off on a road that climbed up into the hills. Driving in convoy is not unpleasant if you are the first car and I settled back in the seat and watched the country. We were in the foot-hills on the near side of the river and as the road mounted there were the high mountains off to the north with snow still on the tops. I looked back and saw the three cars all climbing, spaced by the interval of their dust. We passed a long column of loaded mules, the drivers walking along beside the mules wearing red fezes. They were bersaglieri.
Beyond the mule train the road was empty and we climbed through the hills and then went down over the shoulder of a long hill into a river-valley. There were trees along both sides of the road and through the right line of trees I saw the river, the water clear, fast and shallow. The river was low and there were stretches of sand and pebbles with a narrow channel of water and sometimes the water spread like a sheen over the pebbly bed. Close to the bank I saw deep pools, the water blue like the sky. I saw arched stone bridges over the river where tracks turned off from the road and we passed stone farm¬ houses with pear trees candelabraed against their
44
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
south walls and low stone walls in the fields. The road went up the valley a long way and tlien we turned off and commenced to climb into the hills again. The road climbed steeply, going up and back and forth through chestnut woods to level finally along a ridge. I could look down through the woods and see, far below, with the sun on it, the line of the river that separated the two armies. We w'cnt along the rough new military road that followed the crest of the ridge and I looked to the north at the two ranges of mountains, green and dark to the snow¬ line and then white and lovely in the sun. Then, as the road mounted along the ridge, I saw a third range of mountains, higher snow mountains, that looked chalky white and furrowed, with strange planes, and then there were mountains far off beyond all these, that you could hardly tell if you really saw. Those were all the Austrians' mountains and we had nothing like them. Ahead there was a rounded turn-off in the road to the right and looking down I could see the road dropping through the trees. There were troops on this road and motor trucks and mules with mo^tain-guns and as we went down, keeping to the side, I could see the river far down below, the line of ties and rails running along it, the old bndge where the railway crossed to the other side and across, under a hill beyond the river, the broken ho^es of the little town that was to be taken.
It was nearly^ dark when we came down and turned on to the road that ran beside the river.
%
CHAPTER IX
I™ crowded and there were screens of
^ on both sides and mat¬ tes or® at
bare deared space where the railway station had
45
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
- J > «V
been. The road here was below the level of the river bank and all along the side of the sunken road there were holes dug in the bank with infantry in them. The sun was going down and looking up along the bank as we drove I saw the Austrian observation balloons above the hills on the other side dark against the sunset. We parked the cars beyond a brickyard. The ovens and some deep holes had been equipped as dressing-stations. There were three doctors that I knew. I talked with the major and learned that when it should start and our cars should be loaded we would drive them back along the screened road and up to the main road along the ridge where there would be a post and other cars to clear tliem. He hoped the road would not jam. It was a one-road show. The road was screcirfH" be¬ cause it was in sight of the Austrians across the river. Here at the brickyard we were sheltered from rifle or machine-gun fire by the river bank. There was one smashed bridge across the river. They were going to put over another bridge when the bombardment started and some troops were to cross at the shallows up above at the bend of the river. The major was a little man with upturned moustaches. He had been in the war in Libya and wore two wound-stripes. He said that if the thing went well he would see that I was decorated. I said I hoped it would go well but that he was too kind. I asked him if there was a big dugout where the drivers could stay and he sent a soldier to show me. I went with him and found the dugout, which was very good. The drivers were pleased with it and I left them there. The major asked me • to have a drink with him and two other officers. We drank rum and it was very friendly. Outside it was get¬ ting dark. I asked what time the attack was to be and they said as soon as it was dark. I went back to the drivers. They were sitting in the dugout talking and when I came in they stopped. I gave them each a package of cigarettes, Macedonias, loosely packed cigarettes that spilled tobacco and
46
I
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
needed to have the ends twisted before you smoked them. Manera lit his lighter and passed it around. The lighter was shaped like a Fiat radiator. I told them what I had heard.
*' Why didn’t we see the post when we came down ? ” Passini asked.
“ It was just beyond where we turned off.”
” That road will be a dirty mess,” Manera said.
” They'll shell hell out of us.”
” Probably.”
” What about eating, lieutenant ? We won’t get a chance to eat after this thing starts."
” I’ll go and see now,” I said.
“You want us to stay here or can we look around ? ”
” Better stay here.”
I went back to the major’s dugout and he said the field kitchen would be along and the drivers could come and get their stew. He would loan them mess tins if they did not have them. I said I thought they had them, I went back and told the drivers I would get them as soon as the food came. Manera said he hoped it would come before the bombardment started. They were silent until I went out. They were all mechanics and hated the war.
I went out to look at the cars and see what was going on, and then came back and sat down in the dugout with the four drivers. We sat on the ground with our backs against the wall and smoked. Out¬ side It was nearly dark. The earth of the dugout was warm and dry and I let my shoulders back agamst the wall, sitting on the small of my back and relaxed.
” Who goes to the attack ? ” asked Gavuzzh Bersaglieri."
” All bersaglieri ? ”
'* I think so.”
attaj"^^ enough troops here for a real
attention from where the
real attack will be.
47
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“ Do the men know that who attack ? "
“ I don’t think so.”
” Of course they don't,” Manera said. “ They wouldn’t attack if they did.”
" Yes they would,” Passini said. ” Bersaglieri are fools.”
” They are brave and have good discipline,” I said.
"They are big through the chest by measurement, and healthy. But they are still fools.”
"The granatieri are tall,” Manera said. This was a joke. They all laughed.
” Were you there, Tenente, when they wouldn't attack and they shot every tenth man ? ”
"No.”
"It is true. They lined them up afterward and took every tenth man. Carabinieri shot them.”
" Carabinieri,” said Passini, and spat on the floor.
" But those grenadiers ; all over six feet. They wouldn’t attack.”
" If everybody would not attack the war would be over,” Manera said.
"It wasn't that way with the granatieri. They were afraid. The officers aU came from such good families.”
" Some of the officers went alone.”
"A sergeant shot two officers who would not get out.”
" Some troops went out.”
" Those that went out were not lingd up when they took the tenth men.”
" One of those shot by the carabinieri is from my town,” Passini said. " He was a big smart tall boy to be in the granatieri. Always in Rome. Always with the girls. Always with the carabinieri.” He laughed. "Now they have a guard outside his^-'i house with a bayonet and nobody can come to see his mother and father and sisters and his father loses his civil rights and cannot even vote. They are all without law to protect them. Anybody can take their property.”
48
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
soldiers
it
a
” If it wasn’t that that happens to their families nobody would go to the attack.”
“ Yes. Alpini would. These V.E. would. Some bersaglieri.”
“ Bersaglieri have run too. Now they try to forget it.”
” You should not let us talk this way, Tenente. Ewiva I’esercito ! ” Passini said sarcastically.
“I know how you talk,” I said. “But as long
as you drive the cars and behave - ”
" — and don’t talk so other officers can hear,” Manera finished.
“I believe we should get the war over,” I said. “ It would not finish it if one side stopped fighting. It would only be worse if we stopped fighting.”
“It could not be worse,” Passini said respect¬ fully. “There is nothing worse than war.”
Defeat is worse.”
I do not believe it,” Passini said still respect- fuUy. “What is defeat? You go home.”
“ They come after you. They take your home. They take your sisters.”
‘ I don’t believe it,” Passini said. “ They can’t
do that to everybody. Let everybody defend his
home. Let them keep their sisters in the house.”
They h^g you. They come and make you be a
soldier again. Not in the auto-ambulance, in the mfantry.”
« can’t hang every one.”
outside nation can’t make you be a ^5, Manera said. “At the first battle you all
Like the Tchecos.”
anything about being conquered and so you think it is not bad.”
'^ic Passini said, " we understand you let
Wf^ in There is nothing as bad as war.
W K auto-ambulance cannot even reahze at all
thZ bad it is
anything to stop it because they go crazy. There are some people who never realize.
‘ 49
4t
U
44
44
41
44
There are people who are afraid of their officers. It is with them that war is made.”
I know it is bad but we must finish it.”
It doesn’t finish. There is no finish to a war.” Yes there is.”
V Passini shook his head.
yf " War is not won by victory. What if we take p San Gabriele ? What if we take the Carso and ^^IWonfalcone and Trieste ? Where are we then ? Did you see all the far mountains to-day ? Do you think we could take all them too ? Only if the Austrians stop fighting. One side must stop fighting. Why don't we stop fighting ? If they come down into Italy they get tired and go away. They have their own country. But no, instead there is a war.” You’re an orator.”
We think. We read. We are not peasants. We are mechanics. But even the peasants know better than to believe in a war. Everybody hates this war.”
” There is a class that controls a country that is stupid and docs not realize anything and never can. That is why we have this war.”
” Also they make money out of it.”
“Most of them don't,” said Passini. “They are too stupid. They do it for nothing. For stupidity.”
“ We must shut up,” said Manera. " We talk too much even for the Tenente.”
” He likes it,” said Passini. ” We will convert him.”
” But now we will shut up,” Manera said.
” Do we eat yet, Tenente ? ” Gavuzzi asked.
“I will go and see,” I said. Gordini stood up and went outside with me.
” Is there anything I can do, Tenente ? Can I help in any way ? ” He was the quietest one of the four.
“ Come with me if you want,” I said, ” and we’ll
see.
Tt was dark outside and the long light from the searchlights was moving over the mountains. There
SO
0
I" U
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
were big searchlights on that front mounted on camions that you passed sometimes on the roads at night, close behind the lines, the camion stopped a little off the road, an ofl&cer directing the liglit and the crew scared. We crossed the brickyard, and stopped at the main dressing-station. There was a little shelter of green branches outside over the entrance and in the dark the night wind rustled the leaves dried by the sun. Inside there was a light. The major was at the telephone sitting on a box. One of the medical captains said the attack had been put forward an hour. He offered me a glass of cognac. I looked at the board tables, the instruments shining in the light, the basins and the stoppered bottles. Gordini stood behind me. The major got up from the telephone.
“ It starts now,” he said. " It has been put back again.”
I looked outside, it was dark and the Austrian
searchlights were moving on the mountains behind us. It was quiet for a moment still, then from all the guns behind us the bombardment started.
"Savoia,” said the major.
"About the soup, major,” I said. He did not he^ me. I repeated it.
" It hasn’t come up.”
A sheil came in and burst outside in the brick- y^d. Another burst and in the noise you could hear the smaller noise of the brick and dirt raining down.
What IS there to eat ? ”
"inf a little pasta asciutta,” the major said.
1 11 take what you can give me.”
to an orderly who went out of
*^ack with a metal basin of odd cooked macaroni. I handed it to Gordini. Have you any cheese ? ”
grudgingly to the orderly who
auartpr again and came out with a
^ a white cheese.
« V ^ very much,” I said, xoud better not go out.”
1
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
Outside something was set do^vn beside the entrance. One of the two men who had carried it looked in.
“Bring him in,” said the major. “ WTiat's the matter with you ? Do you want us to come outside and get him ? ”
The two stretcher-bearers picked up the man under the arms and by the legs and brought him in.
" Slit the tunic,” the major said.
He held a forceps with some gauze in the end. The two captains took off their coats. “ Get out of here,” the major said to the two stretcher-bearers.
“Come on,” I said to Gordini.
“ You better wait until the shelling is over,” the major said over his shoulder.
“ They want to eat,” I said.
“ As you wish.”
Outside we ran across the brickyard. A shell burst short near the river bank. Then there was one that we did not hear coming until the sudden rush. We both went flat and with the flash and bump of the burst and the smell heard the singing off of the frag¬ ments and the rattle of falling brick. Gordini got up and ran for the dugout. I was after him, holding the cheese, its smooth surface covered with brick dust. Inside the dugout were the three drivers sitting against the wall, smoking.
“ Here, you patriots,” I said.
“ How are the cars ? ” Manera asked.
“ AU right.”
“ Did they scare you, Tenente ? ”
“ You’re damned right,” I said.
I took out my knife, opened it, wiped oft the blade and pared off the dirty outside surface of the cheese. Gavuzzi handed me the basin of macaroni.
“ Start in to eat, Tenente.”
” No,” I said. “ Put it on the floor. We’ll all eat.”
“ There are no forks.”
" What the hell,” I said in English.
I cut the cheese into pieces and laid them on the
52
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
macaroni. " Sit down to it,” I said. They sat down and waited. I put thumb and fingers into tlie macaroni and lifted. A mass loosened.
“Lift it high, Tenente.”
I lifted it to arm’s length and the strands cleared. I lowered it into the mouth, sucked and snapped in tlie ends, and chewed, then took a bite of cheese, chewed, and then a drink of the wine. It tasted of rusty metal. I handed the canteen back to Passini.
“ It's rotten,” he said. “ It’s been in there too long. I had it in the car.”
They were all eating, holding their chins close over the basin, tipping their heads back, sucking in the ends. I took another mouthful and some cheese and a rinse of wine. Something landed outside that shook the earth.
Four hundred twenty or minnenwerfer,” Gavuzzi said.
There aren’t any four hundred twenties in the mountains,” I said.
Skoda guns. I’ve seen the holes.” Three hundred fives.”
We went on eating. There was a cough, a noise i^e a railway engine starting and then an explosion that shook the earth again.
“This isn’t a deep dugout,” Passini said.
.. xr ^ trench-mortar.”
Ves, sir.”
swallow of ^ cheese and took a
co^h fh other noise I heard a
SwA chuh-chuh<huh-chuh-then
open and ^ as a blast-furnace door is swung
mv^rlthMrn ^ t.reathe but
out of ^ ^sh bodUy
time bo2v / ^ the
myself anJ ^ °^t swiftly, all of
and ins^H nf died. Then I floated.
breatKd I fdt myself sUde back. I
1 was DacK. The ground was tom up
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
and in front of my head there was a splintered beam of wood. In the jolt of my head I heard somebody crying. I thought somebody was screaming. I tried to move but I could not move. I heard the machine- guns and rifles firing across the river and all along the river. There was a great splashing and I saw the star-shells go up and burst and float whitely and rockets going up and heard the bombs, all this in a moment, and then I heard close to me someone saying, “ Mama mia I Oh, mama mia ! " I pulled and twisted and got my legs loose finally and turned around and touched him. It was Passini and when I touched him he screamed. His legs were toward me and I saw in the dark and the light that they were both smashed above the knee. One leg was gone and the other was held by tendons and part of the trouser and the stump twitched and jerked as though it were not connected^ He bit his arm and moaned, “ Oh, mamma niia, mamma mia," then, " Dio ti salvi, Maria, Dio ti salvi, Maria. Oh, Jesus shoot me. Christ shoot me, Mama mia, mama mia, oh purest lovely Mary shoot me. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Oh Jesus lovely Mary stop it. Oh oh oh oh," then choking, " Mamma mamma mia." Then he was quiet, biting his arm, the stump of his leg twitching.
" Portaferiti ! " I shouted, holding my hands cupped. "Portaferiti!" I tried to get closer to Passini to try to put a tourniquet on the legs but I could not move. I tried again and my legs moved a little. I could pull backward along with my arms and elbows, Passini was quiet now. I sat beside him, undid my tunic and tried to rip tlie tail of my shirt. It would not rip and I bit the edge of the cloth to start it. Then I thought of his puttees. I had on wool stockings but Passini wore puttees. All the drivers wore puttees. But Passini had only one leg. I unwound the puttee and while I was doing it I saw there was no need to try and make a tourniquet be¬ cause he was dead already. I made sure he was dead. There were three others to locate. I sat up straight and as I did so something inside my head moved like
54
4(
4i
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
the weights on a doll's eyes and it hit me inside behind my eyeballs. My legs felt warm and wet and my shoes were wet and warm inside. I knew that I was hit and leaned over and put my hand on my knee. My knee wasn’t there. My hand went in and my knee was' down on my shin. I wiped my hand on my shirt and another floating light came very slowly down and I looked at my leg and was very afraid. “Oh, God,” I said, "get me out of here.” I knew, however, that there had been three others. There were four drivers. Passini was dead. That left three. Someone took hold of me under the arms and somebody else lifted my legs.
There are three others,” I said. " One is dead.” It’s Manera. We went for a stretcher but there wasn’t any. How are you, Tenente ? ”
“ WTiere are Gordini and Gavuzzi ? ”
Gordini's at the post getting bandaged. Gavuzzi has your legs. Hold on to my neck, Tenente. Are you badly hit ? ”
'■ In the leg. How is Gordini ? ”
Hes all right. It was a big trench-mortar shell.”
“ Passini’s dead.”
“ Yes. He’s dead.”
A shell fell close and they both dropped to the ground and dropped me. "I'm sorry, Tenente,” said Manera. " Hang on to my neck.”
If you drop me again.”
' It was because we were scared.
Are you unwounded ? ”
We are both wounded a little.
Can Gordini drive ? ”
" I don’t think so.”
pos?^^ dropped me once more before we reached the
;; You sons of bitches,” I said.
won’t Manera said. ”We
wont ^op you again.”
ffroun*?^« ^ ^ the
broueht ^*^^7 carried wounded in and
brought them out. I could see the light come out
55
ft
ff
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
from the dressing-station when the curtain opened and they brought someone in or out. The dead were oft to one side. The doctors were working with their sleeves up to their shoulders and were red as butchers. There were not enough stretchers. Some of the wounded were noisy but most were quiet. The wind blew the leaves in the bower over the door of the dressing-station and the night was getting cold. Stretcher-bearers came in all the time, put their stretchers down, unloaded them and went away. As soon as I got to tlie dressing-station Manera brought a medical sergeant out and he put bandages on both my legs. He said there was so much dirt bIo\vn into the wound that there had not been much haemorrhage. They would take me as soon as possible. He went back inside. Gordini could not drive, Manera said. His shoulder was smashed and his head was hurt. He had not felt bad but now the shoulder had stiffened. He was sitting up beside one of the brick walls. Manera and Gavuzzi each went off with a load of wounded. They could drive all right. The British had come with three ambulances and they had two men on each ambulance. One of their drivers came over to me, brought by Gordini who looked very white and sick. The Britisher
leaned over. „
Are you hit badly ? ” he asked. He was a tall
man and wore steel-rimmed spectacles.
“ In the legs."
" It's not serious, I hope. Will you have a
cigarette ? ”
" Thanks."
" They tell me you've lost two drivers.
" Yes. One killed and the fellow that brought
^ " What rotten luck. Would you like us to take the
" That’s what I wanted to ask you.
" We’d take quite good care of them and return
them to the Villa. 206, aren't you ? "
" Yes.”
56
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
" It's a charming place. I’ve seen you about. They tell me you’re an American.”
“ Yes.”
” I’m English.”
” No 1 ”
” Yes, English. Did you think I was Italian ? There were some Italians with one of our units.”
” It would be fine if you would take the cars,” I said.
“We’ll be most careful of them.” He straightened up. “ This chap of yours was very anxious for me to see you.” He patted Gordini on the shoulder. Gordini winced and smiled. The Englishman broke into voluble and perfect Italian. “ Now everything is arranged. I’ve seen your Tenente. We will take over the two cais. You won’t worry now.” He broke off. “ I must do something about getting you out of here. I'll see the medical wallahs. We'll take you back with us.”
He walked across to the dressing-station, stepping carefully among the wounded. I saw the blanket open, the light came out and he went in.
He will look after you, Tenente,” Gordini said.
“ How are you. Franco ? ”
” I am all right.” He sat down beside me. In a
moment the blanket in front of the dressing-station
opened and two stretcher-bearers came out followed by
the tall Englishman. He brought them over to me.
T American Tenente,” he said in
Italian.
I d rather wait,” I said. “ There are much worse wounded than me. I'm all right.”
” Come, . come,” he said. “ Don’t be a bloody
in Italian : “ Lift him very carefully bout the legs. His legs are very painful. He is the egitunate son of President Wilson.” They picked me p tod took me into the dressing-room. Inside they inftV on all the tables. The little major
forced inrious. He recognized me and waved a
“ ^ va bien ? ”
57
A FAREWELL TO ARMS “ Ca va.”
" I have brought him in,” the tall Englishman said in Italian. " The only son of the American Ambassador. He will be here until you are ready to take him. Then I shall take him with my first load.” He bent over me. ” I’ll look up their adjutant to do your papers and it will all go much faster.” He stooped to go under the doorway and went out. The major was unhooking the forceps now, dropping them in a basin. I followed his hands with my eyes. Now he was bandaging. Then the stretcher-bearers took the man off the table.
” I’ll take the American Tenente,” one of the captains said. They lifted me on to the table. It was hard and slippery. There were many strong smells, chemical smells and the sweet smell of blood. They took off my trousers and the medical captain commenced dictating to the sergeant-adjutant while he worked, ” Multiple superficial wounds of the left and right thigh and left and right knee and right foot. Profound wounds of right knee and foot. Lacerations of the scalp ” — he probed — (Does that hurt ?) (Christ, yes !) ” with possible fracture of the skull. Incurred in the line of duty. That’s what keeps you from being court-martialled for self-inflicted wounds,” he said. ” Would you like a drink of brandy ? How did you run into this thing anyway ? Wliat were you trying to do ? Commit suicide ? Anti-tetanus please, and mark a cross on both legs. Thank you. I'll clean this up a little, wash it out, and put on a dressing. Your blood coagulates beautifully.”
The adjutant, looking up from the paper, "Wliat inflicted the wounds ? ”
The medical captain, " What hit you ? ”
Me, with the eyes shut, " A trench-mortar shell.” The captain, doing things that hurt sharply and severing tissue — " Are you sure ? ”
Me — trying to lie still and feeling my stomach flutter when the flesh was cut, " I think so.”
Captain doctor — (interested in something he was
58
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
finding), “Fragments of enemy trench-mortar shell. Now I'll probe for some of this if you like but it’s not necessary. I'll paint all this and — Docs that sting ? Good, that's nothing to how it will feel later. The pain hasn’t started yet. Bring him a glass of brandy. The shock dulls the pain ; but this is all right, you have nothing to worry about if it doesn’t infect and it rarely does now. How is your head ? “
“ It's very bad," I said.
“ Better not drink too much brandy then. If you’ve got a fracture you don't want inflammation. How does that feel ? "
Sweat ran all over me.
'■ Good Christ ! " I said.
" I guess you’ve got a fracture all right. I’ll wrap you up and don’t bounce your head around.” He bandaged, his hands moving very fast and the bandage coming taut and sure. “ All right, good luck and Vive la France.”
“ He’s an American,’’ one of the other captains said.
“ I thought you said he was a Frenchman. He
talks French,” the captain said. “I've known him
before. I always thought he was French.” He drank
a half tumbler of cognac. “ Bring on something
serious. Get some more of the anti-tetanus.” The
wptain waved to me. They lifted me and the blanket-
nap went across my face as we went out. Outside
the sergeant-adjutant knelt down beside me where I lay,
Name ? he asked softly. “ Middle name ? First
name Rank? Where bom? What class? mat
corps? and so on. “ I’m sony for your head, Tencnte.
it ■ , I’m sending you now with
the English ambulance.”
ThpV^ ^ you very much.”
inH had started
happening was without interest or nn ^ wWle the English ambulance came
sLm?p, ^ stretcher and lifted the
Thfrp to the ambulance level and shoved it in. on it ®^other stretcher by the side with a man whose nose I could see, waxy-looking, out of
• i >+
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
the bandages. He breathed very heavily. There were stretchers lifted and slid into the slings above. The tall English driver came around and looked in. “ I'll take it very easily,” he said. " I hope you'll be comfy.” I felt the engine start, felt him climb up into the front seat, felt the brake come off and the clutch go in, then we started. I lay still and let the pain ride.
As the ambulance climbed along the road, it was slow in the traffic, sometimes it stopped, some¬ times it backed on a turn, then finally it climbed quite fast. I felt something dripping. At first it dropped slowly and regularly, then it pattered into a stream. I shouted to the driver. He stopped the car and looked in through the hole behind lus seat.
”\Vliat is it?”
” The man on the stretcher over me has a haemorrhage. ”
” We’re not far from the top. I wouldn’t be able to get the stretcher out alone.” He started the car. The stream kept on. In the dark I could not see where it came from the canvas overhead. I tried to move sideways so that it did not fall on me. Where it had run down under my shirt it was warm and sticky. I was cold and my leg hurt so that it made me sick. After a while the stream from the stretcher above lessened and started to drip again and I heard and felt the canvas above move as the man on the stretcher settled more comfortably.
” How is he ? ” the Englisliinan called back.
” We’re almost up.”
‘‘He’s dead I think,” I said.
The drops fell very slowly, as they fall from an icicle after the sun has gone. It was cold in the car in the night as the road climbed. At the post on the top they took the stretcher out and put another in and we went on.
60
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
CHAPTER X
In the ward at the field hospital they told me a visitor was coming to see me in the afternoon. It was a hot day and there were many flies in the room. My orderly had cut paper into strips and tied the strips to a stick to make a brush that swished the flies away. I watched them settle on the ceiling. When he stopped swshing and fell asleep they came down and I blew them away and finally covered my face \vith my hands and slept too. It was very hot and when I woke my legs itched. I waked the orderly and he poured mineral water on the dressings. That made the bed damp and cool. Those of us that were awake talked across the ward. The afternoon was a quiet time. In the morning they came to each bed m turn, three men nurses and a doctor and picked you up out of bed and earned you into the dressing-room so that the beds could be made while we were having our wounds dressed. It was not a pleasant trip to the dressmg-room and I did not know until later that beds could be made with men in them. My orderly had finished pouring water and the bed felt cool and
^ scratch on the
brought m Rinaldi. He came in very fast wore gw'™ I “'V he
^ you tins It ^vas a bottle of mfmar Th#»
!?« ^ -^And good
thrmedleL^. ^ decorated. They want to get you
the brS^ ^ they can get only
^^at for ? "
you^OTovr-l wounded. They say if silver OthpmJ^'* heroic act you can get the
Till n
ppened. Did you do any heroic act ?
61
it
«
me
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“ No,” I said. ” I was blown up while we were eating cheese.”
” Be serious. You must have done something heroic either before or after. Remember carefully.”
” I did not.”
” Didn't you cany anybody on your back ? Gordini says you carried several people on your back but the medical major at the first post declares it is impossible. He has to sign the proposition for the citation.”
” I didn’t carry anybody. I couldn't move.”
" That doesn't matter,” said Rinaldi.
He took off his gloves.
” I think we can get you the silver. Didn't you refuse to be medically aided before the others ? ”
” Not very firmly.”
“That doesn’t matter. Look how you are wounded. Look at your valorous conduct in asking to go always to the first line. Besides, the operation was successful.”
” Did they cross the river all right ? ”
” Enormously. They take nearly a thousand prisoners. It's in the bulletin. Didn't you see it ? ”
“No.”
” I'll bring it to you. It is a successful coup de main.”
” How is everything ? ”
” Splendid. We are all splendid. Everybody is proud of you. Tell me just exactly how it happened.
I am positive you will get the silver. Go on, tell me. Tell me aU about it.” He paused and thought. ” Maybe you will get an English medal too. There was an English there. I'll go and see him and ask if he will recommend you. He ought to be able to do something. Do you suffer much ? Have a drink. Orderly, go get a corkscrew. Oh you should see what I did in the removal of three metres of small intestine and better now than ever. It is one for The Lancet. You do me a translation and I will send it to The Lancet. Every day I am better. Poor dear baby, how do you feel ? Where is that damn corkscrew ?
62
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
ii
You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffer¬ ing.” He slapped his gloves on the edge of tlie bed.
” Here is the corkscrew, Signor Tenentc,” the orderly said.
“Open the bottle. Bring a glass. Drink that, baby. How is your poor head ? I looked at your papers. You haven't any fracture. That major at the first post was a hog-butcher. I would take you and never hurt you. I never hurt anybody. I learn how to do it. Every day I learn to do things OTOOther and better. You must forgive me for talk¬ ing so much, baby. I am very moved to see you badly wounded. There, drink that. It's good. It cost fifteen lire. It ought to be good. Five stars. After I leave here I’ll go see that English and he’ll get you an English medal.”
" They don't give them like that.”
You are so modest. I will send the liaison officer. He can handle the English.”
“ Have you seen Miss Barkley > ” her ^ bring
How°“e‘thf 'girJ?
havel'^'cha'^ged V™'' /In •I''! T*"'
It is disgraceful Th/v ^
collides.” ' ^ ® old war
“ You don’t go at all > ”
should stay so long that th^v ^ ^^5;ace that they
a is jusrbid ®* eirls.
with no new girk.” ' alone at the war
63
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
I drank the cognac and felt it warm all the way down. Rinaldi poured another glass. He was quieter now. He held up the glass. "To your “Valorous wounds. To the silver medal. Tell me, baby, when you lie here all the time in the hot weather
don’t you get excited ?
" Sometimes."
" I can't imagine lying like that. I would go crazy."
" You are crazy."
" I wish you were back. No one to come in at night from adventures. No one to make fun of. No one to lend me money. No blood brother and room mate. Why do you get yourself wounded ? ”
" You can make fun of the priest.”
"That priest. It isn’t me that makes fun of him. It is the captain. I like him. If you must have a priest have that priest. He's coming to see you. He makes big preparations."
" I like him."
" Oh, I knew it. Sometimes I think you and he are a little that way. You know.”
"No, you don’t.”
" Yes, I do sometimes. A little that way like the number of the first regiment of the Brigata Ancona."
" Oh, go to hell."
He stood up and put on his gloves.
“ Oh. I love to tease you, baby. With your priest and your English girl, and really you are just like me underneath."
"No, I’m not."
" Yes, we are. You are really an Italian. AJl fira- ''I I and smoke and nothing inside. You only pretend to be ' American, we are brothers and we love each other." " Be good while I'm gone," I said.
"I will send Miss Barkley. You are better with her without me. You are purer and sweeter.”
" Oh, go to hell."
" I will send her. Your lovely cool goddess. Enelish goddess. My God, what would a man dp with worr^ likeHEH^ exce'^t .wors~Kp he^r^^hat ' else is an English woma^^d for? "
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“You are an ignorant foul-mouthed dago.”
“ A what ? "
“An ignorant wop.”
“ Wop. You are a frozen-faced . . . wop.”
" You are ignorant. Stupid.” I saw that word pricked him and kept on. “ Uninformed. In¬ experienced, stupid from inexperience.”
“Truly? I tell you something about your good women. Your goddesses. There is only one differ¬ ence between taking a girl who has always been good and a woman. With a girl it is painful. That's all I know.” He slapped the bed with his glove. “ And you never know if the girl will really like it.”
“ Don't get angry.”
“ I’m not angry. I just tell you, baby, for your own good. To save you trouble.”
“ That's the only difference ? ”
“ Yes. But millions of fools like you don’t know it.”
“ You were sweet to tell Tne.”
“ We won’t quarrel, baby. I love you too much. But don't be a fool.”
"No. -rU-be--wise'1ikrydu.”
"Don't be angry, baby. Laugh. Take a drink. I must go, really.”
" You're a good old boy.”
" Now you see. Underneath we are the same. We are war brothers. Kiss me good-bye.”
" You're sloppy. .
" No. I am just more affectionate.”
I felt his breath come toward me. “ Good-bye. I come to see you again soon.” His breath went away. 1 wont kiss you if you don’t want. I’ll send your
Lnghsh giri. Good-bye. baby. The cognac is under the bed. Get well soon.”
He was gone.
7
\
• »
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
CHAPTER XI
It was dusk when the priest came. They had brought the soup and afterward taken away the bowls, and I was lying looking at the rows of beds and out the window at the tree-top that moved a little in the evening breeze. The breeze came in through the window, and it was cooler with the even¬ ing. The flics were on the ceiling now and on the electric light bulbs that hung on wires. The lights were only turned on when someone was brought in at night or when something was being done. It made me feel yerr young to have the dark come after the > dusk and then remaim It^as like being put to^ed , ^tter early suppeiL- The orderly came down between the beds and stopped. Someone was with him. It was the priest. He stood there small, brown-faced, and embarrassed.
” How do you do } " he asked. He put some packages down by the bed, on the floor.
" AU right, father.”
He sat down in the chair that had been brought for Rinaldi and looked out of the window embarrassedly.
I noticed his face looked very tired.
” I can only stay a minute,” he said. ” It is late.”
” It’s not late. How is the mess ? ”
He smiled. “ I am still a great joke.” He sounded tired too. ” Thank God they are all well.
” I am so glad you are all right,” he said. ” I hope you don’t suffer.” He seemed very tired and I was not used to see him tired.
'' Not any more.”
” 1 miss you at the mess.”
” I wish I were there. I always enjoyed our talk¬ ing.”
” I brought you a few little tilings,” he said. He picked up the packages. ” This is mosquito netting. This is a bottle of vermouth. You like vermouth ? These are English papers
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
" Please open them.”
He was pleased and undid them. I held the mosquito netting in my hands. The vermouth he held up for me to see and then put it on the floor beside the bed. I held up one of the sheaf of English papers. I could read the headlines by turning it so the half- light from the window was on it. It was The News of the World.
” The others are illustrated,” he said.
” It will be a great happiness to read them. Where did you get them ? ”
” I sent for them to Mestre. I will have more.”
” You were very good to come, father. Will you drink a glass of vermouth ? ”
“Thank you. You keep it. It’s for you.”
“ No, drink a glass.”
“AH right. I will bring you more then.”
The orderly brought the glasses and opened the bottle. He broke off the cork and the end had to be shoved down into the bottle. I could see the priest was disappointed but he said, “ That’s all right. It’s no matter.”
" Here’s to your health, father.”
“ To your better health.”
Afterward he held the glass in his hand and we looked at one another. Sometimes we talked and were good friends but to-night it was difficult.
What s the matter, father? You seem verv tired.” ^
“ I am tired, but I have no right to be.”
“ It’s the heat.”
«« spring. I feel very low.” lou have the war disgust.”
“ No. But I hate the war.”
“ I don’t enjoy it.” I said. He shook his head and looked out of the window.
You do not mind it. You do not see it. You
I know you are wounded.”
^ lhat is an accident.”
” Still even wounded you do not see it. I can teU 1 do not see it myself, but I feel it a littie.”
67
“ WTien I was wounded we were talking about it. Passini was talking.”
Tile priest put down the glass. He was thinking about something else.
” I know them because I am like they are,” he said.
” You are dii?erent, though.”
” But really I am like they are.”
‘‘The officers don’t see anything.”
” Some of them do. Some are very delicate and feel worse than any of us.”
” They are mostly different.”
” It is not education or money. It is something else. Even if they had education or money men like Passini would not wish to be officers. I would not be an officer.”
” You rank as an officer. I am not an officer.”
” I am not really. You are not even an Italian. You are a foreigner. But you are nearer the officers than you are to the men.”
” What is the difference ? ”
” I cannot say it easily. There are people who would make war. In this country there are many like that. There are other people who would not make war.”
“But the first ones make them do it.”
” Yes.”
" And I help them.”
” You are a foreigner. You are a patriot.”
” And the ones who would not make war ? Can they stop it ? ”
” I do not know.”
He looked out of the window again. I watched his face.
” Have they ever been able to stop it ? ”
” They are not organized to stop things, and when they get organized their leaders sell them out.”
” Then it’s hopeless ? ”
‘ * It is never hopeless. But sometimes I cannot \ hopeT I try always to hVpe, but sometimes I cannot.”
” Maybe the war vwTTbe over.”
” I hope so.”
” What will you do then^ ”
iPlL
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
If it is possible I will return to the Abruzzi."
His brown face was suddenly very happy.
“ You love the Abruzzi ! ”
“ Yes, I love it very much."
“ You ought to go there then."
" I w’ould be too happy. If I could live there and love God and serve Him."
" And be respected," I said.
" Yes, and be respected. M’hy not ? "
" No reason not. You should be respected."
" It does not matter. But tliere in my country it is understood that a man may love God, It is not a dirty joke."
" I understand."
He looked at me and smiled.
“You understand, but you do not love God."
"No."
“ You do not love Him at all ? " he asked.
“ I am afraid of Him in the night sometimes."
“ You should love Him."
“ I don’t love much."
“ Yes," he said. “ You do. What you tell me about in the nights. That is not love. That is only passion and lust. When you love you wish to do things for. You wdsh to sacrifice for. You wish to serve."
“ I don’t love."
You will. I know you will. Then you will be happy."
I m happy. I’ve always been happy."
It is another thing. You cannot know about it unless you have it."
" Well," I said. “ If I ever get it I wiU teU you."
1 stay too long and talk too much.” He was womed that he really did.
No. Don’t go. How about loving women ? If i r^y loved some woman, would it be like that ? "
i don t know about that. I never loved any woman. ^
", ^^out your mother ? "
«• ^ nmst have loved my mother."
• Hid you always love God ? "
69
A FARE VI' ELL TO ARMS
“ Ever since I was a little boy.”
” Well,” I said. I did not know what to say. ” You are a line boy,” I said.
” I am a boy,” he said. '' But you call me father.”
“ That’s politeness.”
He smiled.
” I must go, really,” he said. ” You do not want me for anything ? ” he asked hopefully.
” No. Just to talk.”
” I will take your greetings to the mess.”
” Thank you for the many fine presents."
"Nothing."
" Come and see me again.”
" Yes. Good-bye.” He patted my hand.
" So long," I said in dialect.
" Ciaou,” he repeated.
It was dark in the room and the orderly, who had sat by the foot of the bed, got up and went out with him. I liked him very much and I hoped he would get back to the Abruzzi sometime. He had a rotten life in the mess and he was fine about it, but I thought how he would be in his own country. At Capracotta, he had told me, there were trout in the stream below the town. It was forbidden to play the flute at night. WTien the young men serenaded only the flute was forbidden. Why, I had asked. Because it was bad for the girls to hear the flute at night. The peasants all called you " Don ” and when you met them they took off their hats. His father hunted every day and stopped to eat at the houses of peasants. They were always honoured. For a foreigner to hunt he must present a certificate that he had never been arrested. There were bears on the Gran Sasso DTtalia, but it was a long way. Aquila was a fine town. It was cool in the summer at night, and the spring in Abruzzi was the most beautiful in Italy. But what was lovely was the fall to go hunting through the chestnut woods. The birds were all good because they fed on grapes, and you never took a lunch because the peasants were always honoured if you would eat with them at their houses. After a while I went to sleep.
70
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
CHAPTER XII
The rooiH was long with \vindows on the right-hand side and a door at the far end that went into the dressing-room. The rows of beds that mine was in faced the windows and another row, under the windows, faced the wall. If you lay on your left side you could see the dressing-room door. There was another door at the far end that people sometimes came in by. If anyone were going to die they put a screen around the bed so you could not see them die, blit only the shoes and puttees of doctors and men nurses showed under the bottom of the screen, and sometimes at the end there would be whispering. Then the priest would come out from behind the screen, and afterward the men nurses would go back behind the screen, to come out again carrying the one who was dead with a blanket over him down the corridor between the beds, and someone folded the screen and took it away.
That morning the major in charge of the ward asked me if I felt that I could travel the next day. I said I could. He said then they would ship me out early in the morning. He said I would be better off making the trip now before it got too hot.
When they lifted you up out of bed to carry you into the dressing-room you could look out of the window and see the new graves in the garden. A soldier sat outside the door that opened on to the garden, making crones and painting on them the names, rank, and regiment of the men who were buried in the garden. He also ran errands for the ward, and in his spare time made me a cigarette-lighter out of an empty Austrian rifle-cartridge. The doctors were very nice and seemed very capable. They were anxious to ship me to Milan, where there were better X-ray facilities and where, after the operation, I could take mechanico- therapy. I wanted to go to Milan too. They wanted to get us all out and back as far as possible because
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
all the beds were needed for the offensive, when it should start.
The night before I left the field hospital Rinaldi came in to see me with the major from our mess. They said that I would go to an American hospital in Milan that had just been installed. Some American ambulance units were to be sent down, and this hospital would look after them and any other Americans on service in Italy. There were many in the Red Cross. The States had declared war on Germany, but not on Austria.
The Italians were sure America would declare war on Austria too, and they were very excited about any Americans coming down, even the Red Cross. They asked me if I thought President Wilson would declare war on Austria and I said it was only a matter of days. I did not know what we had against Austria, but it seemed logical that they should declare war on her if they did on Germany. They asked me if we wojild declare war on Turkey. I said that was doubt¬ ful. Turkey, I said, was our national bird, but the joke translated so badly and they were so puzzled and suspicious that I said yes, we would probably declare war on Turkey. And on Bulgaria ? We had drunk several glasses of brandy and I said yes, by God, on Bulgaria too and on Japan. But, they said, Japan is an ally of England. You can’t trust the bloody English. The Japanese want Hawaii, I said. Where is Hawaii ? It is in the Pacific Ocean. Why do the Japanese want it ? They don’t really want it, I said. That is all talk. The Japanese are a wonderful little people, fond of dancing and light wines. Like the French, said the major. We will get Nice and Savoia from the French. We will get Corsica and all the Adriatic coastline, Rinaldi said. Italy will return to the splendours of Rome, said the major. I don’t like Rome, I said. It is hot and full of fleas. You don’t like Rome ? Yes, I love Rome. Rome is the mother of nations. I will never forget Romulus suck¬ ling the Tiber. What ? Nothing. Let’s all go to Rome. Let’s go to Rome to-night and never come
72
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
back. Rome is a beautiful city, said the major. The mother and father of nations, I said. Roma is feminine, said Rinaldi. It cannot be the father. Who is the father, then, the Holy Ghost ? Don't blaspheme. I wasn’t blaspheming, I was asking for information. You are drunk, baby. Who made me drunk ? I made you drunk, said the major. I made you drunk because I love you and because America is in the war. Up to the hilt, I said. You go away in the morning, baby, Rinaldi said. To Rome, I said. No, to Milan. To Milan, said the major, to the Crystal Palace, to the Cova, to Campari's, to Biffi’s, to the galleria. You lucky boy. To the Gran Italia, I said, where I will borrow money from George. To the Scala, said Rinaldi. You will go to the Scala. Every night, I said. You won’t be able to afford it every night, said the major.
^ The tickets are very expensive. I will draw a sight draft on my grandfather, I said. A what ? A sight draft. He has to pay or I go to jail. Mr. Cunningham at the bank does it. I live by sight drafts. Can a grandfather jail a patriotic grandson who is dying that Italy may live ? Live the American Garibaldi, said Rinaldi. Ewiva the sight drafts, I said. We must be quiet, said the major. Already we have been asked many times to be quiet. Do you go to-morrow reaUy, Federico ? He goes to the American hospital, I teU you, Rinaldi said. To the beautiful nurses. Not the nurses with beards of the held hospi^tal. Yes, yes, said the major, I know he goes to the Amencan hospital. I don’t mind their beards, I smd. If any man wants to raise a beard, let 1^. Why don’t you raise a beard. Signor Maggiore. It could not go into a gas-mask. ^ L Anything can go in a gas-
hLi We all know you
what will
Lior ^ SO. said the
S i becomes sentimental. Listen, I have a sur- pnse for you. Your English. You know ? The English
73
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
you go to see every night at their hospital ? She is going to Milan too. She goes with another to be at the American hospital. They had not got nurses yet from America. I talked to-day with the head of their riparto. They have too many women here at the front. They send some back. How do you like that, baby ? All right. Yes ? You go to live in a big city and have your English there to cuddle you. Why don’t I get wounded ? Maybe you will, I said. We must go, said the major. We ^ink and make noise and disturb Federico. Don't go. Yes, we must go. Good-bye. Good luck. Many things. Ciaou. Ciaou. Ciaou. Come back quickly, baby. Rinaldi kissed me. You smell of lysol. Good-bye, baby. Good-bye. Many things. The major patted my shoulder. They tiptoed out. I found I was quite drunk, but went to sleep.
The next day in the morning we left for Milan and arrived forty-eight hours later. It was a bad trip. We were side-tracked for a long time this side of Mestre and children came and peeked in. I got a little boy to go for a bottle of cognac, but he came back and said he could only get grappa. I told him to get it, and when it came I gave him the change and the man beside me and I got drunk and slept until past Vicenza, where I woke up and was very sick on the floor. It did not matter, because the man on that side had been very sick on the floor several times before. Afterward I thought I could not stand the thirst, and in the yards outside of Verona I called to a soldier who was walking up and down beside the train and he got me a drink of water. I woke Georgetti, the other boy who was drunk, and offered him some water. He said to pour it on his shoulder and went back to sleep. The soldier would not take the penny I offered him and brought me a pulpy orange. I sucked on that and spat out the pith and watched the soldier pass up and down past a freight- car outside, and after. a while the train gave a jerk and started.
74
^OOK TIVO
CHAPTER XIII
We got into Milan early in the morning and they unloaded us in the freight-yard. An ambulance took me to the American hospital. Riding in the ambulance on a stretcher I could not tell what part of the town we were passing through, but when they unloaded the stretcher I saw a market-olace and an
A
open wme shop with a girl sweeping out. They were
watering the street and it smelled of the early morning.
They put the stretcher down and went in. The porter
came out with them. He had grey moustaches, wore
a doorman's cap and was in his shirt-sleeves. The
stretcher would not go into the elevator, and they
discussed whether it was better to lift me off the
stretcher and go up in the elevator or carry the
stretcher up the stairs. I listened to them discussing
it. They decided on the elevator. They lifted me
from the stretcher. “Go easy," I said. “Take it softly.”
In the elevator we were crowded and as my legs
bent the pain was very bad. “ Straighten out the legs,” 1 said.
“We can't. Signor Tenente. There isn't room.”
Ine man who said this had his arm around me and
my arm was around his neck. His breath came in
my face metalUc with garUc and red wine.
Be gentle,” the other man said.
Son of a bitch, who isn't gentle.”
Be gentle, I say,” the man with my feet repeated. ^
of the elevator closed, and the grme shut and the fourth-floor button pushed by the
ro^^LwTy^ worried. The elevator
“ Heavy ? '* I asked the man with the garUc.
75
\ -f
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“Nothing,” he said. His face was sweating and he grunted. The elevator rose steadily and stopped. The man holding the feet opened the door and stepped out. We were on a balcony. There were several doors with brass knobs. The man carrying the feet pushed a button that rang a bell. We heard it inside the doors. No one came. Then the porter came up the stairs.
“ Where are they ? ” the stretcher-bearers asked.
“ I don’t know,” said the porter. “ They sleep downstairs.”
“ Get somebody.”
The porter rang the bell, then knocked on the door, then he opened the door and went in. When he came back there was an elderly woman wearing glasses with him. Her hair was loose and half-falling, and she wore a nurse's dress.
“I can’t understand,” she said. “I can’t under¬ stand Italian.”
"I can speak English,” I said. “They want to put me somewhere.”
“ None of the rooms are ready. There isn’t any patient expected.” She tucked at her hair and looked at me near-sightedly.
“ Show them any room where they can put me.”
“ I don’t know,” she said. " There’s no patient expected. I couldn’t put you in just any room.”
“ Any room will do,” I said. Then to the porter in Italian. “ Find an empty room.”
“They arc all empty,” said the porter. “You are the first patient." He held his cap in his hand and looked at the elderly nurse.
“ For Christ’s sweet sake take me to some room.” The pain had gone on and on with the legs bent, and I could feel it going in and out of the bone. The porter went in the door, followed by the grey-haired woman, then came hurrying back. “ Follow me,” he said. They carried me down a long hall-way and into a room with drawn blinds. It smelled of new furniture. There was a bed and a big wardrobe with a mirror. They laid me down on the bed.
76
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“ I can't put on sheets," the woman said. '' The sheets are locked up."
I did not speak to her. " There is money in my pocket," I said to the porter. " In the buttoned- do\vn pocket." The porter took out the money. The two stretcher-bearers stood beside the bed holding their caps. " Give them five lire apiece and five lire for yourself. My papers are in the other pocket. You may give them to the nurse."
The stretcher-bearers saluted and said thank you. " Good-bye," I said. " And many thanks." They saluted again and went out.
“Those papers," I said to the nurse, “describe my case and the treatment already given."
The woman picked them up and looked at them through her glasses. There were three papers and they were folded. “ I don’t know what to do," slie said. “ I can’t read Italian. I can’t do anything without the doctor's orders." She commenced to cry and put the papers in her apron pocket. " Are you an American ? " she asked crying.
^ ^ Please put the papers on the table by the
room. As I lay on the bed I could see the big mirror on the other side of the room, but could not see what it reflected. Tlie
porter stood by the bed. He had a nice face and was very kind.
T " SO." I said to him. " You can go too,"
I said to the nurse. “ What is your name ? "
^^Mrs. Walker."
sle^p^”'' I think I wiU go to
did not
^ ?°®Pdal. The mattress was firm and com- hannv !„ I wdhout moving, hardly breathing,
b^the “d found the bell on a cord
by tte bed and rang it, but nobody came. I went to
When I woke I looked around. There was sunHght
1
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
coming in through the shutters. I saw the big armoire, the bare walls and two chairs. My legs in the dirty bandages stuck straight out in the bed. I was careful not to move them. I was thirsty and I reached for the bell and pushed the button. I heard the door open and looked and it was a nurse. She looked young and pretty.
“ Good morning,” I said.
” Good morning,” she said and came over to the bed. ” We haven’t been able to get the doctor. He’s gone to Lake Como. No one knew there was a patient coming. What’s wrong with you, anyway ? ”
” I’m wounded. In the legs and feet and my head is hurt.”
” What’s your name ? ”
” Henry. Frederic Henry.”
” rU wash you up. But we can’t do anything to the dressings until the doctor comes.”
” Is Miss Barkley here ? ”
” No. There’s no one by that name here.”
” Who was the woman who cried when I came
in ? ”
The nurse laughed. “That’s Mrs. Walker. She was on niglit-duty and she’d been asleep. She wasn t expecting anyone.”
While we were talking she was undressing me, and when I was undressed, except for the bandages, she washed me, very gently and smoothly. The washing felt very good. There was a bandage on my head, but she washed all around the edge.
“Where were you wounded ? ”
“ On the Isonzo, north of Plava.”
“ Where is that ? ”
“North of Gorizia.”
I could see that none of the places meant anything to
her. , ,,
“ Do you have a lot of pain ? ’
“ No. Not much now.”
She put a thermometer in my mouth.
“The Italians put it under the arm,” I said.
“ Don’t talk.”
78
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
fM 6' t -
When she took the thermometer out she read it and then shook it.
“ What's the temperature ? "
"You’re not supposed to know that.”
" Tell me what it is.”
" It's almost normal.”
" I never have any fever. My legs are full of old iron too.”
" What do you mean ? ”
" They’re full of trench-mortar fragments, old screws and bed-springs and things.”
She shook her head and smiled.
" If you had any foreign bodies in your legs they would set up an inflammation and you’d have fever.”
"All right,” I said. " We’U see what comes out.”
She went out of the room and came back with the old nurse of the early morning. Together they made the bed with me in it. That was new to me and an admirable proceeding.
" Who is in charge here ? ”
■" Miss Van Cainpen.”
" How many nurses are there ? ”
" Just us two.”
" Won’t there be more ? ”
“ Some more are coming.”
“ When will they get here ? ”
I don't know. You ask a great many questions for a sick boy.”
"I'm not sick,” I said, " I'm wounded.”
They had finished making the bed and I lay with a
clean smooth sheet under me and another sheet over
me. Mrs. Walker went out and came back with a
pj^ama jacket. They put that on me and I felt very clean and dressed.
S I said. The nurse
giggled. " Could I have a drink of water ? ” I asked.
“ breakfast.”
breakfast. Can I have the shutters
opened, please ? ”
The light had been dim in the room and when the
1
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
shutters were opened it was bright sunlight, and I looked out on a balcony and beyond were the tiled roofs of houses and chimneys. I looked out over the tiled roofs and saw white clouds and the sky very blue.
“ Don’t you know when the other nurses are coming ? ”
“ Why ? Don’t we take good care of you ? ”
“ You’re very nice."
" Would you like to use the bedpan ? "
" I might try."
They helped me and held me up, but it was not any use. Aftenvard I lay and looked out the open doors on to the balcony.
" When does the doctor come ? "
" When he gets back. We've tried to telephone to Lake Como for him.”
"Aren’t there any other doctors?"
" He’s the doctor for the hospital."
Miss Gage brought a pitcher of w'ater and a glass. I drank three glasses and then they left me, and I looked out the window a while and went back to sleep. I ate some lunch and in the afternoon Miss Van Campen, the superintendent, came up to see me. She did not like me and I did not like her. She was small and neatly suspicious and too good for her posi¬ tion. She asked many questions and seemed to think it was somewhat disgraceful that I was with the Italians.
" Can I have wine with the meals ? " I asked her.
" Only if the doctor prescribes it.”
" I can’t have it until he comes ? "
" Absolutely not."
" You plan on having him come eventually ? ”
" We've telephoned him at Lake Como."
She went out and Miss Gage came back.
" Why were you rude to Miss Van Campen ? " she asked after she had done something for me very
skilfully. ^
" I didn't mean to be. But she was snooty.
She said you were domineering and rude."
80
44
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“ I wasn’t. But what’s the idea of a hospital without a doctor ? ”
"He’s coming. They’ve telephoned for liim to Lake Como."
" What does he do there ? Swim ? "
" No. He has a clinic there."
" Why don’t they get another doctor ? "
“ Hush I Hush 1 Be a good boy and he’ll come."
I sent for the porter and when he came I told him in Italian to get me a bottle of Cinzano at tlie wine shop, a fiasco of chianti and the evening papers. He went away and brought them wrapped in newspaper, unwrapped them, and then I asked him to draw the corks and put the wine and vermouth under the bed. They left me alone and I lay in bed and read the papers a while, the news from the front, and the list of dead officers v,ith their decorations, and tlieh reached down and brought up the bottle of Cinzano and held it straight up on my stomach— the cool glass against my stomach — and took little drinks, making rings on my stomach from holding the bottle there be¬ tween drinks, and watched it get dark outside over the roofs of the town. The swallows circled around and I watched them and the night hawks flying above tlie roofs, and drank the Cinzano. Miss Gage brought up a glass with some egg nog in it. I lowered the
vermouth bottle to the other side of the bed when she came in.
Miss Van Campen had some sherry put in this ’’ she said. “ You shouldn’t be rude to her. She’s not ^ung ^d this hospital is a big responsibility for her, Mre. Walkers too old and she's no use to her.”
bhes a splendid woman,” I said. "Thank her very much."
supper right away."
That s all nght," I said. "I'm not hungry.”
it the bed- ^ iittle of the supper, ^te^d It was dark outside and I could see the
searchlights moving in the sky. I watched for a while and then went to sleep. I slept
81
I
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
heavily, except once I woke sweating and scared and then went back to sleep, tiying to stay outside of my dream. I woke for good long before it was light and heard roosters crowing, and stayed on awake until it began to be light. I was tired and once it was really light I went back to sleep again.
CHAPTER XIV
It was bright sunlight in the room when I woke. I thought I was back at the front and stretched out in bed. My legs hurt me and I looked do\vn at them, still in the dirty bandages, and seeing them knew where I was. I reached up for the bell-cord and pushed the button. I heard it buzz down the hall and then someone coming on rubber soles along the hall. It was Miss Gage and she looked a little older in the bright sunlight and not so pretty.
“Good morning,” she said. “Did you have a good night ? “
“ Yes, thanks, very much,” I said. “ Can I have a barber ? ”
“ I came in to see you and you were asleep with this in the bed with you.”
She opened the armoire door and held up the ver¬ mouth bottle. It was nearly empty. “ I put the other bottle from under the bed in there too,” she said. “ Why didn't you ask me for a glass ? ”
“ I thought maybe you wouldn’t let me have it.”
“ I'd have had some with you.”
“ You’re a fine girl.”
“ It isn't good for you to drink alone,” she said. “ You mustn’t do it.”
“ All right.”
“ You're friend Miss Barkley's come,” she said.
“ Really ? ”
“Yes. I don’t like her.”
“ You will like her. She’s awfully nice.”
She shook her head. " I’m sure she’s fine. Can you move just a little to this side ? That s fine. 1 11
82
c» Si L
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
clean you up for breakfast.” She washed me with a cloth and soap and warm water. ^ ” Hold your shoulder up,” she said. ” That's fine.”
“Can I have the barber before breakfast ? ”
"ni send the porter for him.” She went out and came back. ” He's gone for him,” she said and dipped the cloth she held in the basin of water.
The barber came with the porter. He was a man of about fifty, with an upturned moustache. Miss Gage was finished with me and went out, and the barber lathered my face and shaved. He was very solemn and refrained from talking.
“ What's the matter ? Don't you know any news ? ” I asked.
“ What news ? ”
” Any news. What's happened in the town ? ”
” It is time of war,” he said. ” The enemy's i’ari.
' J) are ever^hcgel!! ^ ”
I looked up at him. ” Please hold your face still,” he said and went on shaving. ” I will tell nothing.”
” ^Vhat’s the matter with you ? ” I asked.
“I am an Italian. I \vill not communicate with the enemy.”
I let it go at that. If he was crazy, the sooner I could get out from under the razor the better. Once I tried to get a good look at him. “ Beware,” he said.
The razor is sharp.”
I paid him when it was over and tipped him half a lira. He returned the coins.
“I will not. I am not at the front. But I am an Italian.”
” Get to hell out of here.”
“With your permission,” he said and wrapped his razors in newspaper. He went out leaving the five copper coins on the table beside the bed. I rang the bell. Miss Gage came in. ” Would you ask the porter to come, please ? ”
” AH right.”
The porter came in. He was trying to keep from laughing.
Is that barber crazy
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
"No, signorino. He made a mistake. He doesn’t understand very well and he thought I said you were an Austrian officer."
;; Oh," I said.
" Ho, ho, ho I " the porter laughed. " He was funny. One move from you, he said, and he would have - " He drew his forefinger across his throat.
"Ho, ho, ho!" He tried to keep from laughing. " When I teU him you were not an Austrian. Ho, ho, ho I "
" Ho, ho, ho I " I said bitterly. " How funny if he would cut my throat. Ho, ho, ho ! ”
" No, signorino. No, no. hie was so frightened of an Austrian. Ho, ho, ho."
" Ho, ho, ho I " I said. " Get out of here 1 "
He went out and I heard him laughing in the hall. I heard someone coming down the hallway. I looked toward the door. It was Catherine Barkley.
She came in the room and over to the bed.
" Hello, darling," she said. She looked fresh and young and very beautiful. I thought I had never seen anyone so beautiful.
"Hello," I said. When— I- saw- her I was,m love with her. Everything turned oveF inside of me. She look^ toward the door, saw there was no one, then she sat on the side of the bed and leaned over and kissed me. I pulled her do^vn and kissed her and felt her heart beating.
" You sweet," I said. " Weren't you wonderful to come here ? "
" It wasn't very hard. It may be hard to stay."
" You've got to stay," I said. " Oh, you're wonderful.” I was crazy about her. I could not believe she was really there and held her tight to me.
" You mustn’t," she said. " You’re not well enough.”
" Yes. I am. Come on."
" No. You're not strong enough.”
" Yes. I am. Yes. Please."
84
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
" You do love me ? ”
“ I really love you. I’m crazy about you. Come on, please.”
” Feel our hearts beating ? ”
“ I don’t care about our hearts. I want you. I’m just mad about you.”
“ You really love me ? ”
” Don’t keep on saying that. Come on. Please, please, Catherine.”
” All right, but only for a minute.”
” AU right.” I said. ” Shut the door.”
” You can’t. You shouldn’t - ”
” Come on. Don’t talk. Please come on.”
Catherine sat in a chair by the bed. The door was open into the hall. The wildness was gone and I felt finer than I had ever felt.
She asked, ” Now do you believe I love you ? ”
” Oh, you’re lovely," I said. ” You've got to stay.
They can’t send you away. I’m crazy in love with you.”
^ “We’ll have to be a\vfully careful. That was just madness. We can't do that.”
“ We can at night.”
“We’U have to be awfully careful. You’ll have to be careful in front of other peoDle.”
“ I will.”
me! lon’t you ®
that® "^at
more to ^ ‘0 do anything
more to you. I have to go now. darling. reaUy.’’
Come back nght away." ^
“ I'll come when I can."
Good-bye.”
"Good-bye, sweet.”
in love'^^h ^ wanted to fall
the room of the hospital in Milan and all sorts of
85
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
things went through my head, and finally Miss Gage came in.
“ The doctor’s coming,” she said. ” He telephoned from Lake Como.”
” When does he get here ? ”
" He’ll be here this afternoon.”
CHAPTER XV
Nothing happened until afternoon. The doctor was a thin quiet little man who seemed disturbed by the war. He took out a number of small steel splinters from my thighs with delicate and refined distaste. He used a local anesthetic called something or other “snow,” which froze the tissue and avoided pain until the probe, the scalpel or the forceps got below the frozen portion. The anesthetized area was clearly defined by the patient, and after a time the doctor's fragile delicacy was exhausted and he said it would be better to have an X-ray. Probing was unsatisfactory, he said.
The X-ray was taken at the Ospedale Maggiore, and the doctor who did it was excitable, efficient and cheerful. It was arranged, by holding up the shoulders, that the patient should see personally some of the larger foreign bodies through the machine.
The plates were to be sent over. The doctor requested me to write in his pocket notebook, my name, and regiment, and some sentiment. He declared that the foreign bodies were ugly, nasty, brutal. The Austrians were sons of bitches. How many had I killed ? I had not killed any, but I was anxious to please — and I said I had killed plenty. Miss Gage was with me and the doctor put his arm around her and said she was more beautiful than Cleopatra. Did she understand that ? Cleopatra the former queen of Egypt. Yes, by God she was. We returned to the little hospital in the ambulance, and after a while and much lifting I was upstairs and in bed again. The plates came that afternoon ; the doctor had said by
86
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
God he would have them that afternoon and he did. Catherine Barkley showed them to me. They were in red envelopes and she took them out of the envelopes and held them up to the light and we both looked.
" That’s your right leg,” she said, then put the plate back in the envelope. “This is your left.”
‘‘Put them away,” I said, "and come over to the bed.”
” I can’t,” she said. “ I just brought them in for a second to show you.”
She went out and I lay there. It was a hot after¬ noon and I was sick of lying in bed. I sent the porter for the papers, all the papers he could get.
Before he came back three doctors came into the room. I have noticed that doctors who fail in the practice of medicine have a tendency to seek one an¬ other's company and aid in consultation. A doctor who cannot take out your appendix properly will recommend to you a doctor who will be unable to remove your tonsils with success. These were three such doctors.
” This is the young man,” said the house doctor with the delicate hands.
“ How do you do ? ” said the tall gaunt doctor with the beard. The third doctor, who carried the X-ray plates in their red envelopes, said nothing.
Remove the dressings ? ” questioned the bearded doctor.
Certainly. Remove the dressings, please, nurse,” the house doctor said to Miss Gage. Miss Gage removed the dressings. I looked down at the legs.
ui ^ hospital they had the look of not too ireshly ground hamburger steak. Now they were c^ted and the knee was swollen and discoloured, and the wlf sunken, but there was no pus.
Very dean,” said the house doctor. “ Very clc^ and nice,”
, said the doctor with the beard. The third
Qoctor looked over the house doctor's shoulder.
Please move the knee,” said the bearded doctor.
I can’t.”
87
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“ Test the articulation ? ” the bearded doctor questioned. He had a stripe beside the three stars on his sleeve. That meant he was a first captain.
“ Certainly/’ the house doctor said. Two of them took hold of my right leg very gingerly and bent it.
“ That hurts,” I said.
” Yes, yes. A little further, doctor.”
“ That's enough. That's as far as it goes," I said.
” Partial articulation,” said the first captain. He straightened up. ” May I see the plates again, please, doctor ? ” The third doctor handed him one of the plates. ” No. The left leg, please.”
” That is the left leg, doctor.”
“ You are right. I was looking from a different angle.” He returned the plate. The other plate he examined for some time. “You see, doctor?” he pointed to one of the foreign bodies which showed spherical and clear against the light. They examined the plate for some time.
” Only one thing I can say,” the first captain with the beard said. “It is a question of time. Three months, sLx months probably.”
“ Certainly the synoveal fluid must re-form.”
“ Certainly. It is a question of time. I could not conscientiously open a knee like that before the pro¬ jectile was encysted.”
“ I agree with you, doctor.”
“ Six months for what ? ” I asked.
“ Six months for the projectile to encyst before the knee can be opened safely.”
“ I don’t believe it,” I said.
“ Do you want to keep your knee, young man ? ”
“ No,” I said.
“ What ? ”
“ I want it cut off,” I said. “ so I can wear a hook
0^ A U 1 0
” Wliat do you mean ? A hook i
“ He is joking ” said the house doctor. He patted my shoulder very delicately. " He wants to keep his knee. This is a very brave young man. He has been proposed for the sUver medal of valour.
88
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“ All my felicitations," said the first captain. He shook my hand. " I can only say that to be on the safe side you should wait at least six months before opening such a knee. You are welcome of course to another opinion."
"Thank you very much," I said. " I value your opinion."
The first captain looked at his watch.
"We must go," he said. "All my best wishes."
"All my best wishes and many thanks," I said. I shook hands with the third doctor, Capitan Varini- Tenente Enry, and they all three went out of the room.
" Miss Gage," I called. She came in. " Please ask the house doctor to come back a minute."
He came in holding his cap and stood by the bed. " Did you wish to see me ? "
" Yes. I can’t wait six months to be operated on. My God, doctor, did you ever stay in bed six months ? "
You won’t be in bed all the time. You must first have the wounds exposed to the sun. Then after- w^d you can be on crutches."
,, months and then have an operation ? "
k n foreign bodies must
be aUowed to encyst and the synoveal fluid will re-
safe to open up the knee."
*k i. really think yourself I will have to wait
that long ?
“ That is the safe way.”
;; Wo is that first captain ? "
^ He is a very exceUent surgeon of Milan."
, He s a first captain, isn’t he ? "
“ T ?’ excellent surgeon."
If he w« = ’’y ^ captain.
what ^ I know
captain is, doctor.”
have ^ rather
“ r™ sufgeon I know.”
'• r surgeon see it ? ”
BareU?^;i:j„'^ Dr.
39
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
" Could you ask another surgeon to come and see it?"
" I will ask Valentini to come."
" Who is he ? "
" He is a surgeon of the Ospedale Maggiore."
" Good. I appreciate it very much. You under¬ stand, doctor, I couldn’t stay in bed six months."
"You would not be in bed. You would first take a sun cure. Then you could have light exercise. Then when it was encysted we would operate."
" But I can’t wait six months.”
The doctor spread his delicate fingers on the cap he held and smiled. " You are in such a hurry to get back to the front ? "
" Why not ? "
" It is very beautiful," he said. " You are a noble young man." He stooped over and kissed me very delicately on the forehead. " I will send for Valentini. Do not worry and excite yourself. Be a good boy.”
" Will you have a drink ? " I asked.
"No thank you. I never drink alcohol.”
" Just have one." I rang for the porter to bring glasses.
" No. Thank you. They are waiting for me."
" Good-bye,” I said.
" Good-bye."
Two hours later Dr. Valentini came into the room. He was in a great hurry and the points of his moustache stood straight up. He was a major, his face was tanned, and he laughed all the time.
" How did you do it, this rotten thing ? " he asked. "Let me see the plates. Yes. Yes. That’s it. You look healthy as a goat. Who’s the pretty girl ? Is she your girl ? I thought so. Isn't this a bloody war ? How does that feel ? You are a fine boy. I’ll make vou better than new. Does that hurt ? YoiTbet ' it hurts. How they love to hurt you, these doctors. \^at have they done for you so far ? Can’t that girl talk Italian ? She should Jeam. What a lovely girl.
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
I could teach her. I will be a patient here myself. No, but I will do all your maternity work free. Does she understand that ? She will make you a fine boy. A fine blonde like she is. That's fijie. That’s all right. What a lovely girl. Ask her if she eats supper with me. No, I don’t take her away from you. Thank you. Thank you very much, miss. That’s all.”
That’s all I want to know.” He patted me on the shoulder. ” Leave the dressings off.”
” Will you have a drink. Dr. Valentini ? ”
“A drink? Certainly. I will have ten drinks. Where are they ? ”
In the armoire. Miss Barkley will get the bottle.” Cheery oh. Cheery oh to you, miss. What a lovely girl ! I will bring you better cognac than that. He wiped his moustache.
” When do you think it can be operated on ? ” To-morrow morning. Not before. Your stomach must be emptied. You must be washed out. I will the old lady downstairs and leave instructions, tjood-bye. I see you to-morrow. I’U bring you better
r!5!!f K "^ou are very comfortable here,
rn Un^„ to-morrow. Get a good sleep,
mm f waved from the doorway, his
tace was
hpno ^ There was a star in a box on his sleeve because he was a major.
CHAPTER XVI
Irthlf Ld the open
watched the S^ht over which we
was dark in the roofs of the town. It
night over the tZ^a^dThVb
but hunted in ^ ‘^^t was not frightened.
We lay and wa^che°d’'him
us, beiu^^we Uy so ^ Aftl
a searchlight com^e on and tfa^^he^S^
91
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
across the sky and then go off and it was dark again. A breeze came in the night, and we heard the men of the anti-aircraft gun on the next roof talking. It was cool and they were putting on their capes. I worried in the night about someone coming up, but Catherine said they were all asleep. Once in the night we went to sleep and when I woke she was not there, but I heard her coming along the hall and the door opened and she came back to the bed and said it was all right, she had been downstairs and they were all asleep. She had been outside Miss Van Campen’s door and heard her breathing in her sleep. She brought crackers and we ate them and drank some vermouth. We were very hungry, but she said that would all have to be gotten out of me in the morning. I went to sleep again in the morning when it was light and when I was awake I found she was gone again. She came in looking fresh and lovely and sat on the bed, and the sun rose while I had the thermo¬ meter in my mouth, and we smelled the dew on the roofs and then the coffee of the men at the gun on the next roof.
" I wish we could go for a walk,” Catherine said.
“ I'd wheel you if we had a chair.”
" How would I get into the chair ? ”
” We’d do it.”
” We could go out to the park and have breakfast out-doors.” I looked out the open doorway.
” What we'll really do,” she said, ” is get you ready for your friend, Dr. Valentini.”
” I thought he was grand.”
” I didn’t like him as much as you did. But I imagine he’s very good.”
” Come back to bed, Catherine, please," I said.
” I can't. Didn’t we have a lovely night? "
” And can you be on night-duty to-night ? ”
” I probably will. But you won’t want me.”
“Yes, I will.”
“ No, you won’t. You’ve never been operated on. You don't know how you'll be.”
" I’ll be aU right.”
92
(VL/
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
4f
44
44
You’ll be sick and I won’t be anything to you." Come back then now."
No,” she said. " I have to do the chart, darling, and fix you up.”
" You don't really love me or you’d come back again.”
You’re such a silly boy.” She kissed me. "That's all right for the chart. Your temperature’s always normal. You’ve such a lovely temperature." You’ve got a lovely everything."
Oh, no. You have the lovely temperature. I’m aw^y proud of your temperature."
Maybe all our children will have fine tempera¬ tures."
Our children will probably have beastly temperatures."
ValeSS”^ you have to do to get me ready for
Not much. But quite unpleasant.”
,, I wish you didn’t have to do it."
T'r« ^ ^ anyone else to touch you.
" Walker ? ”
44
44
44
ta
There*'mf,t'L '"any nurses here now.
away ™Tur“ “
They';vm'J[^llThte Je
“ go too."
well qu^ily*^\axSe and”
‘^^d^^n go somewhere."
on
Maybe the war will be over. It can't always go Ih get weU,” I said. " Valentini wiU fix me."
93
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
He should with those moustaches. And, darling, when you’re going under the ether, just think about something else — not us. Because people get very blabby under an anaesthetic.”
” What should I think about ? ”
“ Anything. Anything but us. Think about your people. Or even any other girl.”
" No.”
” Say your prayers then. That ought to create a splendid impression.”
” Maybe I won’t talk.”
” That's true. Often people don't talk."
" I won’t talk.”
” Don't brag, darling. Please don’t brag. You’re so sweet and you don’t have to brag.”
" I won’t talk a word.”
“ Now you’re bragging, darling. You know you don’t need to brag. Just start your prayers or poetry or something when they tell you to breathe deeply. You’ll be lovely that way and I’U be so proud of you. I’m very proud of you anyway. You have such a lovely temperature, and you sleep like a little boy with your arm around the pillow and think it's me. Or is it some other girl ? Some fine Italian girl ? ”
“ It’s you.”
” Of course it's me. Oh, I do love you, and Valentini will make you a fine leg. I'm glad I don’t have to watch it.”
"And you’ll be on night-duty to-night.”
" Yes. But you won’t care.”
" You wait and see.”
" There, darling. Now you’re all clean inside and out. Tell me. How many people have you ever loved ? ”
" Nobody.”
" Not even me ? ”
" Yes, you.”
" How many others really ? ”
" None.”
" How many have you — how do you say it ? — stayed with ? ”
94
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“None.”
” You're lying to me.”
” Yes.”
“ It’s all right. Keep right on lying to me. That’s what I want you to do. Were they pretty ? ”
” I never stayed with anyone.”
“That’s right. Were they very attractive? ”
“ I don't know anything about it.”
“You’re just mine. That’s true and you’ve never belonged to anyone else. But I don’t care if you have. I'm not afraid of them. But don't tell me about them. When a man stays with a girl when does she say how much it costs ? ”
“ I don’t know.”
“ Of course not. Does she say she loves him ? Tell me that. I want to know that.”
" Yes. If he wants her to.”
“ Does he say he loves her ? Tell me, please. It's important.”
“ He does if he wants to.”
” But you never did ? Really ? ”
“No.”
“ Not really ? Tell me the truth.”
“No.” I Ued.
wouldn't,” she said. “ I knew you wouldn’t. Oh, I love you, darling.”
Outside the sun was up over the roofs and I could see the points of the cathedral with the sunUght on
the^doctor^^ outside and waiting for
^ said. “ She says just
what he wants her to ? ” ’’
“ Not always.”
do^h^ - say just what you wish and I’U other ^11^ and then you will never want any
hannUv^^T'S^ me very
want and fh ^
^ be a great success, won't I ? ”
all“rl!^dy “> <»“
now that you’re
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
" Come to the bed again."
'' All right. rU come."
''Oh, darlmg, darling, darling," I said.
You see," she said. “ I do anything you want.” " You’re so lovely.”
" I'm afraid I’m not very good at it vet."
;; You’re lovely.”
I want what you want. There isn't any me any more. Just what you want."
" You sweet."
" I’m good. Aren't I good ? You don't want any other girls, do you ? ”
" No."
" You see ? I'm good. I do what you want."
CHAPTER XVII
When I was awake after the operation I had not been away. You do not go away. They only choke you. It is not like dying, it is just a chemical choking, so you do not feel, and afterward you might as well have been drunk except that when you throw up nothing comes but bile and you do not feel better afterward. I saw sandbags at the end of the bed. They were on pipes that came out of the cast. After a while I saw Miss Gage and she said, " How is it now ? ”
"Better,” I said.
" He did a wonderful job on your knee.”
" How long did it take ? ”
" Two hours and a half.”
" Did I say anything silly ? ”
"Not a thing. Don't talk. Just be quiet.”
I was sick and Catherine was right. It did not make any difference who was on night-duty.
There were three other patients in the hospital now, a thin boy in the Red Cross from Georgia with malaria, a nice boy, also thin, from New York, with
96
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
malaria and jaundice, and a fine boy who had tried to unscrew the fuse-cap from a combination shrapnel and high explosive shell for a souvenir. This was a shrapnel shell used by the Austrians in the mountains with a nose-cap which went on after the burst and exploded on contact.
Catherine Barkley was ^eatly liked by the nurses because she would do night-duty indefinitely. She had quite a little work with the malaria people ; the boy who had unscrewed the nose-cap was a friend of ours and never rang at night unless it was necessary, but between the times of working we were together. I loved her very much and she loved me. I slept iii the daytime and we wrote notes during the day when we were awake and sent them by Ferguson. Ferguson was a fine girl. I never learned anything about her «cept that she had a brother in the Fifty-Second Division and a brother in Mesopotamia and she was veiy good to Catherine Barkley.
" Will you come to our wedding, Fergy ? " I said to her once.
" You’ll never get married."
" We will.”
No you won’t."
" Why not ? "
you'll many."
^ We never fight."
" You’ve time yet."
" We don’t fight."
peopTe^do. they‘"j“n-t
^ht youtwo R.?* ^
Y«."s ‘ ‘"f' w"'“ •" «
;; We have a fine time." trouble" set her
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“ I won’t.”
” Mind you watch out. I don’t want her with any of these war babies.”
” You’re a fine girl, Fergy.”
*' I’m not. Don't try to flatter me. How does your leg feel ? ”
“Fine."
" How is your head ? ” She touched the top of it with her fingers. It was sensitive like a foot that had gone to sleep. “ It’s never bothered me.”
“ A bump like that could make you crazy. It never bothers you 7 ”
“No.”
” You're a lucky young man. Have you the letter done ? I’m going down.”
“ It’s here,” I said.
“ You ought to ask her not to do night-duty for a while. She's getting very tired.”
“All right. I will.”
“ I want to do it but she won’t let me. The others are glad to let her have it. You might give her just a little rest.”
“All right.”
“ Miss Van Campen spoke about you sleeping all the forenoons.”
“ She would.”
“ It would be better if you let her stay off nights a little while.”
“ I want her to.”
“ You do not. But if you would make her I’d respect you for it.”
” I’ll make her.”
“ I don’t believe it.” She took the note and went out. I rang the bell and in a little while Miss Gage came in.
“ What’s the matter ? ”
“ I just wanted to talk to you. Don’t you think Miss Barkley ought to go off night-duty for a while ? She looks awfully tired. Why does she stay on so long ? ”
Miss Gage looked at me.
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
“rm a friend of yours," she said. "You don't have to talk to me like that."
" WTiat do you mean ? "
" Don’t be silly. Was that all you wanted ? ”
" Do you want a vermouth ? ”
" All right. Then I have to go." She got out the bottle from the armoire and brought a glass
" You take the glass," I said. " I’ll drink out of the bottle."
Here’s to you," said Miss Gage.
"What did Van Campen say about me sleeping late in the mornings ? "
"She just jawed about it. She calls you our privileged patient."
“To hell with her."
“She isn’t mean," Miss Gage said. "She’s iust old and cranky. She never liked you."
that^^^’ ^ friend. Don’t forget
" You’re awfully damned nice."
, J* is nice. But I'm
your fnend. How does your leg feel > "
"Fine."
“ bring some cold mineral water to pour over
-■ Wrf outside."
You re awfully nice.
" Does it itch much ? "
" No. It's fine."
“ i;m yot "
" I know you are."
No you don't But you will some day."
— -
long journV. ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
CHAPTER XVIII
We had a lovely time that summer. When I could go out we rode in a carriage in the park. I remember the carriage, the horse going slowly, and up ahead the back of the driver with his varnished high hat, and Catherine Barkley sitting beside me. If we let our hands touch, just the side of my hand touching hers, we were excited. Afterward when I could get around on crutches we went to dinner at Bifi&’s or the Gran Italia and sat at the tables outside on the floor of the galleria. The waiters came in and out and there were people going by and candles with shades on the tablecloths, and after we decided that we liked the Gran Italia best, George, the head-waiter, saved us a table. He was a fine waiter and we let him order the meal while we looked at the people, and the great galleria in the dusk and each other. We drank dry white capri iced in a bucket * although we tried many of the other wines, fresa, barbera and the sweet white wines. They had no wine waiter because of the war and George would smile ashamedly when I asked about wines like fresa.
“ If you imagine a country that makes a wine be¬ cause it tastes like strawberries." he said.
" Why shouldn't it ? " Catherine asked. " It
sounds splendid."
" You try it, lady," said George, " if you want to. But let me bring a little bottle of margaux for the
Tenente."
" rU try it too, George."
" Sir, I can’t recommend you to. It doesn’t even taste like strawberries."
“It might.” said Catherine. "It would be
wonderful if it did." , , j
“ rU bring it," said George, "and when the lady
is satisfied I’ll take it away." . j..
It was not much of a wine. As he said it did not even taste like strawberries. We went back to capn.
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
One evening I was short of money and George loaned me a hundred lire. “That's all right, Tenente," he said. “ I know how it is. I know how a man gets short. If you or the lady need money I've always got money."
After dinner we walked through the galleria, past the other restaurants and the shops with their steel shutters down, and stopped at the little place where they sold sandwiches : ham and lettuce sandwiches and anchovy sandwiches made of very tiny brown glazed rolls and only about as long as your finger. They were to^ eat in the night when we were hungry. Then we got into an open carriage outside the galleria m front of the cathedral and rode to the hospital. At the door of the hospital the porter came out to help with the crutches. I paid the driver, and then we rode upstairs in the elevator. Catherine got off at the lower floor where the nurses lived and I went on up and went down the hall on crutches to my room * some¬ times I undressed and got into bed and sometimes I sat out on the balcony with my leg up on another chair and watched the swallows over the roofs and waited for Catherine. When she came upstairs it was as |hough she had been away on a long trip, and I
Sed crutches and
^led the basins and waited outside the doors or
Wend^ on whether they were
of ours or not, and when she had done all
m^room Aft T t '^^'oony outside
we^ a!l asletn 3 ^ ““ "'>'cn they
Te canteen *“'■0 ‘''oy would not call
St o^thl b d “''d 1 ‘>0'™. nnd she
she would (hn^do^^ suddenly
Md j ^ "O "''n'e I was doing it
^eet a^*^? ‘tfld^b thorn on^he
p4s anTit^''^ id^^n""'' ‘"he ourthe to
dropTer head ‘and “id\‘^°i!™ ®he would
and'^it ^ the it'
falls. ^ inside a tent or behind a
101
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
She had wonderfully beautiful hair and I would lie sometimes and watch her twisting it up in the light that came in the open door, and it shone even in the night as water shines sometimes just before it is really daylight. She had a lovely face and body and lovely smooth skin too. We wo^d be lying together and I would touch her cheeks and her forehead and under her eyes and her chin and throat with the tips of my fingers and say, “ Smooth as piano keys,” and she would stroke my chin with her finger and say, ” Smooth as emery paper and very hard on piano keys.”
"Is it rough ? ”
" No, darling. I was just making fun of you.”
It was lovely in the nights and if we could only touch each other we were happy. Besides all the big times we had many small ways of making love and we tried putting thoughts in the other one’s head while we were in different rooms. It seemed to work some¬ times but that was probably because we were thinking
the same thing anyway. ^
We said to each other that we were married the first day she had come to the hospital and we counted months from our wedding day. I wanted to be really married but Catherine said that if we were they would send her away and if we merely started on the formalities they would watch her and would break us up. We would have to be married under Italian law and the formalities were terrific. I wanted us to be married really because I worried about having a child if I thought about it, but we pretended to ourselves we were married and did not worry much and I suppose I enjoyed not being married, really. I know one night we talked about it and Catherine said, '' But, darling, they’d send me away.”
" Maybe they wouldn't.”
" They would. They'd send me home and then we would be apart until after the war.” i ,
'■ Td come on leave.”
** You couldn’t get to Scotland and back on a leave. Besides, I won't leave you. What good would it do
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A FAREWELL TO ARMS
to marry now ? We’re really married. I couldn’t be any more married.”
“ I only wanted to for you.”
'* There isn’t any me. I’m you. Don’t make up a separate me.”
” I thought girls always wanted to be married.”
” They do. But, darling, I am married. I’m married to you. Don't I make you a good wife ? ”
” You're a lovely wife.”
"You see, darling, I had one experience of waiting to be married.”
*' I don’t want to hear about it.”
“ You know I don’t love anyone but you. You shouldn’t mind because someone else loved me.”
” I do.”
“ You shouldn’t be jealous of someone who’s dead when you have everything.”
” No, but I don't want to hear about it.”
“Poor darling. And I know you’ve been with all kinds of girls and it doesn’t matter to me.”
" CouldJi’t we be married privately some way ?
Then if anything happened to me or if you had a child - ”
“ There’s no way to be married except by church or state. We are married privately. You see, darling, it would mean everything to me if I had any religion. But I haven’t any religion.”
“ You gave me the Saint Anthony.”
That was for luck. Someone gave it to me.
“ Then nothing worries you ? ”
"9nly being sent away from you. You’re mv reh^on. You're aU I’ve got.”
“ ^ marry you the day you say.”
^ you had to make an honest
woman pf me, darlmg. I’m a very honest woman, ^ou can t be ashamed of something if you’re onlv happy ^d proud of it. Aren’t you happy ? ” ^
someone else? ”
e\si(> T ^ won’t ever leave you for someone
else. I suppose all sorts of dreadful things wiU
103
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
happen to us. But you don’t have to worry about that.”
” I don’t. But I love you so much and you did love someone else before.”
” And what happened to him ? ”
” He died.”
” Yes, and if he hadn't I wouldn’t have met you. I'm not unfaithful, darling. I’ve plenty of faults but I’m very faithful. You’ll be sick of me I’ll be so faithful.”
” I’ll have to go back to the front pretty soon.”
” We won’t think about that until you go. You see I'm happy, darling, and we have a lovely time. I haven’t been happy for a long time and when I met you perhaps I was nearly crazy. Perhaps I was crazy. But now we’re happy and we love each other. Do let's please just be happy. You are happy, aren’t you ? Is there anything I do you don’t like ? Can I do anything to please you ? Would you like me to take down my hair ? Do you want to play ?
” Yes and come to bed.”
” All right. I’ll go and see the patients first.”
CHAPTER XIX
The summer went that way. I do not remember much about the days, except that tliey were hot and that there were many victories in the papers. I was very healthy and my legs healed quickly so that it was not very long after 1 was first on crutches before I was through with them and walking with a cane. Then I started treatments at the Ospedale Maggiore for bending the knees, mechanical treatments, baking in a box of mirrors with violet rays, massage, and baths I went over there afternoons, and aftenvard stopped at the caf^ and had a drink and read the papers. I did not roam around the town ; but wanted to get home to the hospital from the caf^. AU 1 wanted was to see Catherine. The rest of the tune
104
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
I was glad to kill. Mostly I slept in the mornings, and in the afternoons, sometimes, I went to the races, and late to the mechanical-therapy treatments. Some¬ times I stepped in at the Anglo-American Club and sat in a deep leather-cushioned chair in front of the window and read the magazines. They would not let us go out together when I was off crutches because it was unseemly for a nurse to be seen unchaperoned with a patient who did not look as though he needed attendance, so we were not together much in the afternoons ; although sometimes we could go out to dinner if Ferguson went along. Miss Van Campen had accepted the status that we were great friends because she got a great amount of work out of Catherine. She thought Catherine came from very good people and that prejudiced her in her favour finally. Miss Van Campen admired family very much and came from an e.xcellent family herself. The hospital was quite busy. too. and that kept lier occupied. It was a hot summer and I knew many people in Milan but always was anxious to get back home to the hospital as soon as the afternoon was over. At the front they were advancing on the Carso, they had taken Kuk across from Plava and were takmg the Bamsizza plateau. The West front did not sound so good. It looked as though the war were gomg on for a long time. We were in the war now but I thought it would take a year to get
them for
combat. Kext year would be a bad year or a Eood
^ount of men. I did not see how it could £o on
clSele aU the Bainsizza and Monte San
th7 Austrtn! mountains beyond for
me Austrians. I had seen them. All the hiehest
On the Carso they were
and swamps
AiJ^tria^s ^^on Napoleon would have whipped tL
fougM them ”^ver would have
them mountams. He would have let
ome down and whipped them around Verona
105
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
I
Still nobody was whipping anyone on the Western front. Perhaps wars weren’t won any more. Maybe they went on for ever. Maybe it was another Hundred Years' War. I put the paper back on the rack and left the club. I went down the steps care¬ fully and walked up the Via Manzoni. Outside the Gran Hotel I met old Meyers and his wife getting out of a carriage. They were coming back from the races. She was a big-busted woman in black satin. He was short and old, with a white moustache and walked flat-footed with a cane.
" How do you do ? How do you do ? ” She shook
hands.
" Hello,” said Meyers.
” How were the races ? ”
“ Fine. They were just lovely. I had three winners.”
■* How did you do ? ” I asked Meyers.
“All right. I had a winner.”
“ I never know how he does,” Mrs. Meyers said.
” He never tells me.” , tt l •
"I do all right,” Meyers said. He was beuig
cordial. ” You ought to come out.” While he talked you had the impression that he was not look¬ ing at you or that he mistook you for someone else.
“ I will,” I said.
” I’m coming up to the hospital to see you, Mrs. Meyers said. ” I have some things for my boys. You’re all my boys. You certainly are my dear
boys.”
■■ Tliey’U be glad to see you.
” Those dear boys. You too. You're one of my
boys.”
■* I have to get back,” I said.
" You give my love to all those dear boys. I ve got lots of things to bring. I've some fine Marsala
and cakes.” , ,, , , ,
“ Good-bye,” I said. ” They’U be awfully glad to
see you. ,
“Good-bye.” said Meyers. “You come around
to the galleria. You know where my table is. We’re
106
y
A FAREWELL TO ARMS
all there every afternoon.” I went on up the street. I wanted to buy something at the Cova to take to Catherine. Inside, at the Cova, I bought a bo.\ of chocolate and while the girl wrapped it up I walked over to the bar. There were a couple of British and some aviators. I had a martini alone, paid for it, picked up the box of chocolate at the outside counter and walked on home toward the hospital. Outside the