Writer on the Western Front without change. Remarque “All Quiet on the Western Front”

They were torn out of their usual life... They were thrown into the bloody mud of war... Once upon a time they were young men learning to live and think. Now they are cannon fodder. Soldiers. And they learn to survive and not think. Thousands and thousands will forever die on the fields of the First World War. Thousands and thousands of those who returned will still regret that they did not lie down with the dead. But for now, there is still no change on the western front...

* * *

The given introductory fragment of the book All Quiet on the Western Front (Erich Maria Remarque, 1929) provided by our book partner - the company liters.

New additions have arrived. The empty spaces on the bunks are filled, and soon there is not a single empty mattress with straw in the barracks. Some of the new arrivals are old-timers, but in addition to them, twenty-five young people were sent to us from front-line transit points. They are almost a year younger than us. Kropp pushes me:

-Have you seen these babies yet?

I nod. We assume a proud, self-satisfied appearance, shave in the yard, walk with our hands in our pockets, glance at the new recruits and feel like old servants.

Katchinsky joins us. We walk around the stables and approach the newcomers, who are just getting gas masks and coffee for breakfast. Kat asks one of the youngest:

- Well, I guess you haven’t eaten anything useful for a long time?

The newcomer winces:

- For breakfast - rutabaga cakes, for lunch - rutabaga vinaigrette, for dinner - rutabaga cutlets with rutabaga salad.

Katchinsky whistles with the air of an expert.

- Rutabaga cakes? You are lucky, because now they are making bread from sawdust. What do you say about the beans, would you like some?

The guy is thrown into the paint:

– There’s no point in kidding me.

Katchinsky is laconic:

- Take the pot...

We follow him with curiosity. He leads us to a barrel standing near his mattress. The barrel is indeed almost filled with beans and beef. Katchinsky stands in front of him, as important as a general, and says:

- Well, come on! It's not good for a soldier to yawn!

We are amazed.

- Wow, Kat! And where did you get this? - I ask.

“Tomato was glad that I saved him the trouble.” I gave him three pieces of parachute silk for this. So, beans and cold food are all you need, huh?

With the air of a benefactor, he gives the boy a portion and says:

“If you come here again, you will have a bowler hat in your right hand, and a cigar or a handful of tobacco in your left hand.” It's clear?

Then he turns to us:

- Of course, I won’t take anything from you.

Katchinsky is an absolutely irreplaceable person - he has some kind of sixth sense. People like him are everywhere, but you can never recognize them in advance. Each company has one, or even two soldiers from this breed. Katchinsky is the most wily of everyone I know. By profession he seems to be a shoemaker, but that’s not the point - he knows all the crafts. It's good to be friends with him. Kropp and I are friends with him, Haye Westhus can also be considered part of our company. However, he is more of an executive body: when some business comes up that requires strong fists, he works according to Kata’s instructions. For this he gets his share.

Here we arrive, for example, at night in a completely unfamiliar area, in some miserable town, upon seeing which it immediately becomes clear that everything here has long been taken away except the walls. We are given overnight accommodation in an unlit building of a small factory, temporarily converted into barracks. There are beds in it, or rather, wooden frames on which wire mesh is stretched.

Sleeping on this mesh is tough. We have nothing to put under us - we need blankets to cover ourselves. The raincoat is too thin.

Kat finds out the situation and says to Haya Westhus:

- Come on, come with me.

They go to the city, although it is completely unfamiliar to them. After about half an hour they return, holding huge armfuls of straw in their hands. Kat found a stable, and there was straw in it. Now we’ll sleep well, and we could go to bed, but our stomachs are churning from hunger.

Kropp asks some artilleryman who has been standing here with his unit for a long time:

- Is there a canteen around here somewhere?

The artilleryman laughs:

- Look what you want! You can roll a ball here. Here you won't even get a crust of bread.

– What, none of the locals live here anymore?

The artilleryman spits:

- Why, some people stayed. Only they themselves work at each boiler and beg.

It's bad. Apparently, we’ll have to tighten the belt and wait until the morning when they drop off food.

But then I see that Kat is putting on his cap, and I ask:

-Where are you going, Kat?

- Scout the area. Maybe we can squeeze something out.

He slowly goes out into the street.

The artilleryman grins:

- Squeeze, squeeze! Be careful not to overstrain yourself!

In complete disappointment, we collapse on our beds and are already thinking about whether to gobble up a piece from the emergency supply. But this seems too risky to us. Then we try to take it out on a dream.

Kropp breaks off the cigarette and gives me half. Tjaden talks about beans with lard, a dish that is so popular in his native land. He curses those who cook them without the pods. First of all, you need to cook everything together - potatoes, beans and lard - in no case separately. Someone grumpily remarks that if Tjaden doesn’t shut up now, he will make bean porridge out of him. After this, the spacious workshop becomes quiet and calm. Only a few candles flicker in the necks of bottles and an artilleryman spits from time to time.

We are already starting to doze off, when suddenly the door opens and Kat appears on the threshold. At first it seems to me that I am seeing a dream: he has two loaves of bread under his arm, and in his hand is a blood-stained bag of horse meat.

The artilleryman drops the pipe from his mouth. He feels the bread:

– Indeed, real bread, and warm at that!

Kat is not going to expand on this topic. He brought bread, and the rest doesn't matter. I am sure that if he were dropped off in the desert, he would have a dinner of dates, roast and wine within an hour.

He briefly says to Haya:

- Chop some wood!

Then he pulls a frying pan from under his jacket and takes out a handful of salt and even a piece of fat from his pocket - he has not forgotten anything. Haye makes a fire on the floor. Firewood crackles loudly in the empty workshop. We get out of bed.

The artilleryman hesitates. He is thinking about expressing his admiration - maybe then he will get something too. But Katchinsky doesn’t even look at the artilleryman, he’s just an empty place for him. He leaves, muttering curses.

Kat knows a way to fry horse meat to make it soft. You can’t put it on the frying pan right away, otherwise it will be tough. First you need to boil it in water. With knives in hand, we squat around the fire and eat our fill.

This is our Kat. If there was a place in the world where it was possible to get something edible only once a year for one hour, then it was at that hour that, as if on a whim, he would put on his cap, hit the road and, rushing, as if following a compass , straight to the target, I would have found this food.

He finds everything: when it’s cold, he finds a stove and firewood, he looks for hay and straw, tables and chairs, but above all, food. This is some kind of mystery, he pulls it all out as if from underground, as if by magic. He outdid himself when he produced four cans of lobster. However, we would prefer a piece of lard to them.

We lay down near the barracks, on the sunny side. Smells like tar, summer and sweaty feet.

Kat is sitting next to me; he is never averse to talking. Today we were forced to practice for an hour - we learned to salute, as Tjaden casually saluted to some major. Kat still can't forget this. He states:

“You’ll see, we’ll lose the war because we know how to trump too well.”

Kropp approaches us. Barefoot, with his pants rolled up, he strides like a crane. He washed his socks and lays them on the grass to dry. Kat looks at the sky, emits a loud sound and thoughtfully explains:

– This sigh came from the pea.

Kropp and Kat enter into a discussion. At the same time, they bet on a bottle of beer on the outcome of the air battle that is now being played out above us.

Kat firmly adheres to his opinion, which he, like an old joker soldier, expresses in poetic form: “If everyone were equal, there would be no war in the world.”

In contrast to Kathu, Kropp is a philosopher. He suggests that when war is declared, there should be a kind of public festival, with music and entrance fees, like a bullfight. Then the ministers and generals of the warring countries should enter the arena in panties, armed with clubs, and let them fight each other. Whoever survives will declare his country the winner. It would be simpler and fairer than what is being done here, where the wrong people are fighting each other.

Kropp's proposal is a success. Then the conversation gradually turns to drill in the barracks.

At the same time, I remember one picture. Hot afternoon in the barracks yard. The heat hangs motionless over the parade ground. The barracks seemed to have died out. Everybody sleeps. You can only hear the drummers practicing; they are located somewhere nearby and are drumming ineptly, monotonously, stupidly. A wonderful triad: midday heat, barracks yard and drum roll!

The windows of the barracks are empty and dark. Here and there soldiers' trousers are drying on the windowsills. You look at these windows with lust. It's cool in the barracks now.

Oh, the dark, stuffy barracks with your iron cots, checkered blankets, high lockers and benches standing in front of them! Even you can become desirable; Moreover: here, at the front, you are illuminated by the reflection of a fabulously distant homeland and home, you, closets, saturated with the fumes of sleepers and their clothes, smelling of stale food and tobacco smoke!

Katchinsky paints them sparingly and with great enthusiasm. What we wouldn't give to go back there! After all, we don’t even dare to think about anything more...

And small arms classes in the early morning hours: “What does a 1998 model rifle consist of?” And gymnastics classes in the afternoon: “Whoever plays the piano is a step forward. Right shoulder forward - step march. Report to the kitchen that you have arrived to peel potatoes.”

We revel in the memories. Suddenly Kropp laughs and says:

- There is a transfer in Lein.

This was our corporal's favorite game. Leine is a junction station. To prevent our vacationers from getting lost on its path, Himmelstoss taught us in the barracks how to make a transfer. We had to learn that if you want to change from a long-distance train to a local one at Leina, you have to go through a tunnel. Each of us stood to the left of our bunk, which represented this tunnel. Then the command was given: “There is a transfer at Lane!” - and everyone crawled under the bunks to the other side with the speed of lightning. We practiced this for hours...

Meanwhile, the German airplane was shot down. He falls like a comet, trailing a tail of smoke behind him. Kropp lost a bottle of beer on this and reluctantly counts out the money.

“And when Himmelstoss was a postman, he must have been a modest man,” I said, after Albert had gotten over his disappointment, “but as soon as he became a non-commissioned officer, he turned into a flayer.” How does this work?

This question stirred up Kropp:

– And not only Himmelstoss, this happens to many people. As soon as they receive stripes or a saber, they immediately become completely different people, as if they had drunk too much concrete.

“It’s all in the uniform,” I suggest.

“Yes, in general, something like that,” says Kat, preparing to give a whole speech, “but that’s not the reason to look for.” You see, if you teach a dog to eat potatoes, and then give him a piece of meat, he will still grab the meat, because it is in his blood. And if you give a person a piece of power, the same thing will happen to him: he will grab onto it. This happens naturally, because man as such is, first and foremost, a beast, and unless he has a layer of decency on top, it’s like a crust of bread on which lard has been spread. The whole point of military service is that one has power over another. The only bad thing is that everyone has too much of it; a non-commissioned officer can drive a private, a lieutenant - a non-commissioned officer, a captain - a lieutenant, so much so that a person can go crazy. And since each of them knows that this is his right, he develops such habits. Take the simplest example: we’re coming back from training and we’re as tired as dogs. And then the command: “Sing!” Of course, we sing in such a way that it’s sickening to listen to: everyone is glad that at least they can still carry a rifle. And now the company was turned around and, as punishment, they were forced to study for another hour. On the way back, the command again: “Sing!” – and this time we sing for real. What's the point in all this? Yes, the company commander just put it his way, because he has power. No one will say anything to him about this; on the contrary, everyone considers him a real officer. But this is still a small thing, they are not even inventing such things to show off our brother. And so I ask you: who, in what civilian position, even in the highest rank, can afford something like this, without risking that they will punch him in the face? This can only be done in the army! And this, you know, will turn anyone’s head! And the smaller a person was in civilian life, the more questions are asked here.

“Well, yes, as they say, discipline is needed,” Kropp casually inserts.

“They’ll always find something to complain about,” Kat grumbles. - Well, maybe that’s how it should be. But you just can’t mock people. But try to explain all this to some mechanic, farm laborer, or working person in general, try to explain this to a simple infantryman - and there are more of them here - he only sees that he is being skinned for three times, and then he will be sent to the front, and he understands perfectly what is needed and what is not needed. If a simple soldier here on the front line holds on so steadfastly, I’ll tell you, it’s simply amazing! That is simply amazing!

Everyone agrees, since each of us knows that drill ends only in the trenches, but already a few kilometers from the front line it begins again, and begins with the most ridiculous things - with trumping and pacing. A soldier must be occupied with something at all costs, this is an iron law.

But then Tjaden appears, red spots on his face. He is so excited that he even stutters. Beaming with joy, he says, clearly pronouncing each syllable:

- Himmelstoss is coming to us. He was sent to the front.

... Tjaden has a special hatred for Himmelstoss, because during our stay in the barracks camp Himmelstoss “educated” him in his own way. Tjaden urinates on himself, this sin happens to him at night, in his sleep. Himmelstoss categorically declared that this was just laziness, and found an excellent remedy, quite worthy of its inventor, to heal Tjaden.

Himmelstoss found another soldier in a nearby barracks, suffering from the same illness, named Kinderfather, and transferred him to Tjaden. In the barracks there were ordinary army bunks, two-tiered, with wire mesh. Himmelstoss placed Tjaden and Kindervater so that one of them got the top place, the other the bottom. It is clear that the person lying below had a hard time. But the next evening they had to change places: the one lying below moved upstairs, and thus retribution was accomplished. Himmelstoss called this self-education.

It was a mean, albeit witty, invention. Unfortunately, nothing came of it, since the premise turned out to be incorrect: in both cases, the matter was not explained by laziness. In order to understand this, it was enough to look at their sallow skin. It ended with one of them sleeping on the floor every night. At the same time, he could easily catch a cold...

Meanwhile, Haye also sat down with us. He winks at me and lovingly rubs his paw. Together with him we experienced the most wonderful day of our soldier’s life. This was on the eve of our departure to the front. We were assigned to one of the regiments with a multi-digit number, but first we were called back to the garrison for equipment, but we were sent not to the assembly point, but to other barracks. The next day we had to leave early in the morning. In the evening we got together to get even with Himmelstoss. Several months ago we vowed to each other to do this. Kropp went even further in his plans: he decided that after the war he would go to serve in the postal department, so that later, when Himmelstoss was again a postman, he would become its boss. He enthusiastically pictured to himself how he would be taught at school. That is why Himmelstoss could not break us; we always counted on the fact that sooner or later he would fall into our hands, at least at the end of the war.

For now, we decided to give him a good beating. What special can they do to us for this if he doesn’t recognize us, and we’re leaving tomorrow morning anyway?

We already knew the pub where he sat every evening. When he returned from there to the barracks, he had to walk along an unlit road where there were no houses. There we lay in wait for him, hiding behind a pile of stones. I took my bedding with me. We were trembling with impatience. What if he won't be alone? Finally we heard his steps - we had already studied them, because we heard them so often in the mornings, when the barracks door swung open and the orderlies shouted at the top of their lungs: “Get up!”

- One? – Kropp whispered.

Tjaden and I sneaked around the stones.

The buckle on Himmelstoss’s belt was already sparkling. Apparently, the non-commissioned officer was a little tipsy: he was singing. Suspecting nothing, he walked past us.

We grabbed the bedding, threw it over, silently jumped on Himmelstoss from behind, and sharply pulled the ends so that he, standing in the white sack, could not raise his arms. The song stopped.

Another moment, and Haye Westhus was near Himmelstoss. With his elbows spread wide, he threw us away - he so wanted to be first. Savoring every movement, he struck a pose, stretched out his long arm, like a semaphore, with a huge palm, like a shovel, and moved the bag so hard that this blow could kill a bull.

Himmelstoss tumbled, flew five meters away and screamed obscenities. But we thought about this in advance: we had a pillow with us. Haye sat down, put the pillow on his lap, grabbed Himmelstoss by the place where his head should be, and pressed it to the pillow. The non-commissioned officer's voice immediately became muffled. From time to time Haye let him catch his breath, and then the mooing for a minute turned into a magnificent ringing cry, which immediately weakened again to a squeak.

Then Tjaden unfastened Himmelstoss's suspenders and pulled down his pants. Tjaden held the whip in his teeth. Then he stood up and started working with his hands.

It was a wondrous picture: Himmelstoss lying on the ground, bending over him and holding his head in Haye’s lap, with a devilish smile on his face and his mouth open with pleasure, then shuddering striped underpants on crooked legs, performing the most intricate movements under their lowered pants, and Above them, in the pose of a woodcutter, is the tireless Tjaden. In the end we had to force him away, otherwise we would never have gotten our turn.

Finally, Haye brought Himmelstoss back to his feet and concluded with another individual number. Swinging his right hand almost to the sky, as if about to grab a handful of stars, he slapped Himmelstoss across the face. Himmelstoss tipped over on his back. Haye picked him up again, brought him to his original position and, showing a high level of accuracy, rolled him a second one - this time with his left hand. Himmelstoss howled and, getting down on all fours, ran away. His striped postman's butt glowed in the moonlight.

We retreated at a trot.

Haye looked around again and said with satisfaction, angrily and somewhat mysteriously:

– Bloody revenge is like blood sausage.

In essence, Himmelstoss should have rejoiced: after all, his words that people should always mutually educate each other did not go in vain, they were applied to himself. We turned out to be intelligent students and learned his method well.

He never found out who arranged this surprise for him. True, at the same time he purchased a bedding, which we no longer found at the scene when we looked there a few hours later.

The events of that evening were the reason that, when we left for the front the next morning, we behaved quite bravely. An old man with a flowing, thick beard was so moved by our appearance that he called us young heroes.

"All Quiet on the Western Front"(German) Im Westen nichts Neues) - the famous novel by Erich Maria Remarque, published in 1929. In the preface the author says: “This book is neither an accusation nor a confession. This is only an attempt to tell about the generation that was destroyed by the war, about those who became its victims, even if they escaped from the shells.”

The anti-war novel tells about all the experiences seen at the front by the young soldier Paul Bäumer, as well as his front-line comrades in the First World War. Like Ernest Hemingway, Remarque used the concept of “lost generation” to describe young people who, due to the mental trauma they received in the war, were unable to settle into civilian life. Remarque's work thus stood in sharp contradiction with the right-wing conservative military literature that prevailed during the era of the Weimar Republic, which, as a rule, tried to justify the war lost by Germany and glorify its soldiers.

Remarque describes the events of the war from the perspective of a simple soldier.

History of creation

The writer offered his manuscript “All Quiet on the Western Front” to the most authoritative and famous publisher in the Weimar Republic, Samuel Fischer. Fisher confirmed the high literary quality of the text, but refused publication on the grounds that in 1928 no one would want to read a book about the First World War. Fischer later admitted that this was one of the most significant mistakes of his career.

Following the advice of his friend, Remarque brought the text of the novel to the publishing house Haus Ullstein, where, by order of the company's management, it was accepted for publication. On August 29, 1928, a contract was signed. But the publisher was also not entirely sure that such a specific novel about the First World War would be a success. The contract contained a clause according to which, if the novel was not successful, the author must work off the costs of publication as a journalist. To be on the safe side, the publishing house provided advance copies of the novel to various categories of readers, including veterans of the First World War. As a result of critical comments from readers and literary scholars, Remarque is urged to revise the text, especially some particularly critical statements about the war. A copy of the manuscript that was in the New Yorker speaks about the serious adjustments to the novel made by the author. For example, the latest edition lacks the following text:

We killed people and made war; we cannot forget about this, because we are at an age when thoughts and actions had the strongest connection with each other. We are not hypocrites, we are not timid, we are not burghers, we keep our eyes open and do not close our eyes. We don’t justify anything by necessity, idea, Motherland - we fought people and killed them, people we didn’t know and who did nothing to us; what will happen when we return to our previous relationships and confront people who interfere with us and hinder us?<…>What should we do with the goals that are offered to us? Only memories and my vacation days convinced me that the dual, artificial, invented order called “society” cannot calm us down and will not give us anything. We will remain isolated and we will grow, we will try; some will be quiet, while others will not want to part with their weapons.

Original text(German)

Wir haben Menschen getötet und Krieg geführt; Das ist für uns nicht zu vergessen, denn wir sind in dem Alter, wo Gedanke und Tat wohl die stärkste Beziehung zueinander haben. Wir sind nicht verlogen, nicht ängstlich, nicht bürgerglich, wir sehen mit beiden Augen und schließen sie nicht. Wir entschuldigen nichts mit Notwendigkeit, mit Ideen, mit Staatsgründen, wir haben Menschen bekämpft und getötet, die wir nicht kannten, die uns nichts taten; was wird geschehen, wenn wir zurückkommen in frühere Verhältnisse und Menschen gegenüberstehen, die uns hemmen, hinder und stützen wollen?<…>Was wollen wir mit diesen Zielen anfangen, die man uns bietet? Nur die Erinnerung und meine Urlaubstage haben mich schon überzeugt, daß die halbe, geflickte, künstliche Ordnung, die man Gesellschaft nennt, uns nicht beschwichtigen und umgreifen kann. Wir werden isoliert bleiben und aufwachsen, wir werden uns Mühe geben, manche werden still werden und manche die Waffen nicht weglegen wollen.

Translation by Mikhail Matveev

Finally, in the fall of 1928, the final version of the manuscript appeared. November 8, 1928, on the eve of the tenth anniversary of the armistice, Berlin newspaper "Vossische Zeitung", part of the Haus Ullstein concern, publishes a “preliminary text” of the novel. The author of “All Quiet on the Western Front” appears to the reader as an ordinary soldier, without any literary experience, who describes his experiences of the war in order to “speak out” and free himself from mental trauma. The introduction to the publication was as follows:

Vossische Zeitung feels “obligated” to open this “authentic”, free and thus “genuine” documentary account of the war.

Original text(German)

Die Vossische Zeitung fühle sich „verpflichtet“, diesen „authentischen“, tendenzlosen und damit „wahren“ dokumentarischen über den Krieg zu veröffentlichen.

Translation by Mikhail Matveev

This is how the legend about the origin of the novel’s text and its author arose. On November 10, 1928, excerpts of the novel began to be published in the newspaper. The success exceeded the wildest expectations of the Haus Ullstein concern - the newspaper's circulation increased several times, the editor received a huge number of letters from readers admiring such an “unvarnished portrayal of the war.”

At the time of the book's release on January 29, 1929, there were approximately 30,000 pre-orders, which forced the concern to print the novel in several printing houses at once. All Quiet on the Western Front became Germany's best-selling book of all time. As of May 7, 1929, 500 thousand copies of the book had been published. The book version of the novel was published in 1929, after which it was translated into 26 languages, including Russian, in the same year. The most famous translation into Russian is by Yuri Afonkin.

Main characters

Paul Beumer- the main character on whose behalf the story is told. At the age of 19, Paul was voluntarily drafted (like his entire class) into the German army and sent to the Western Front, where he had to face the harsh realities of military life. Killed in October 1918.

Albert Kropp- Paul’s classmate, who served with him in the same company. At the beginning of the novel, Paul describes him as follows: “short Albert Kropp is the brightest head in our company.” Lost my leg. Was sent to the rear.

Muller the Fifth- Paul’s classmate, who served with him in the same company. At the beginning of the novel, Paul describes him as follows: “... still carries textbooks with him and dreams of passing preferential exams; under hurricane fire he crams the laws of physics.” He was killed by a flare that hit him in the stomach.

Leer- Paul’s classmate, who served with him in the same company. At the beginning of the novel, Paul describes him as follows: “wears a thick beard and has a weakness for girls.” The same fragment that tore off Bertinka’s chin rips open Leer’s thigh. Dies from loss of blood.

Franz Kemmerich- Paul’s classmate, who served with him in the same company. At the very beginning of the novel, he is seriously injured, leading to the amputation of his leg. A few days after the operation, Kemmerich dies.

Joseph Boehm- Beumer's classmate. Bem was the only one from the class who did not want to volunteer for the army, despite Kantorek's patriotic speeches. However, under the influence of his class teacher and loved ones, he enlisted in the army. Bem was one of the first to die, two months before the official draft deadline.

Stanislav Katchinsky (Kat)- served with Beumer in the same company. At the beginning of the novel, Paul describes him as follows: “the soul of our squad, a man with character, smart and cunning - he is forty years old, he has a sallow face, blue eyes, sloping shoulders and an extraordinary nose for when the shelling will begin, where he can to get hold of food and how best to hide from the authorities.” The example of Katchinsky clearly shows the difference between adult soldiers who have extensive life experience behind them, and young soldiers for whom war is their whole life. He was wounded in the leg, shattering the tibia. Paul managed to take him to the orderlies, but on the way Kat was wounded in the head and died.

Tjaden- one of Bäumer’s non-school friends, who served with him in the same company. At the beginning of the novel, Paul describes him as follows: “a mechanic, a frail young man of the same age as us, the most gluttonous soldier in the company - he sits down for food thin and slender, and after eating, he stands up pot-bellied like a sucked bug.” He has urinary system disorders, which is why he sometimes pees in his sleep. His fate is not exactly known. Most likely, he survived the war and married the daughter of the owner of a horse meat store. But he may have died shortly before the end of the war.

Haye Westhus- one of Bäumer’s friends, who served with him in the same company. At the beginning of the novel, Paul describes him as follows: “our peer, a peat worker, who can freely take a loaf of bread in his hand and ask, “Well, guess what’s in my fist?” Tall, strong, not particularly smart, but a young man with a good sense of humor. He was taken out from under the fire with a torn back. He died.

Detering- one of Bäumer’s non-school friends, who served with him in the same company. At the beginning of the novel, Paul describes him as follows: “a peasant who thinks only about his farm and his wife.” Deserted to Germany. Was caught. Further fate is unknown.

Kantorek- class teacher of Paul, Leer, Müller, Kropp, Kemmerich and Böhm. At the beginning of the novel, Paul describes him as follows: “a stern little man in a gray frock coat, with a face like a mouse.” Kantorek was an ardent supporter of the war and encouraged all his students to volunteer for the war. Later he volunteered himself. Further fate is unknown.

Bertink- Paul's company commander. Treats his subordinates well and is loved by them. Paul describes him as follows: “a real front-line soldier, one of those officers who are always ahead of any obstacle.” While saving the company from a flamethrower, he received a through wound in the chest. My chin was torn off by a shrapnel. Dies in the same battle.

Himmelstoss- commander of the department in which Bäumer and his friends underwent military training. Paul describes him as follows: “He was reputed to be the most ferocious tyrant in our barracks and was proud of it. A small, stocky man who had served for twelve years, with a bright red, curled mustache, a former postman.” He was especially cruel to Kropp, Tjaden, Bäumer and Westhus. Later he was sent to the front in Paul's company, where he tried to make amends.

Joseph Hamacher- one of the patients of the Catholic hospital in which Paul Beumer and Albert Kropp were temporarily housed. He is well versed in the work of the hospital, and, in addition, has “absolution of sins.” This certificate, issued to him after being shot in the head, confirms that at times he is insane. However, Hamacher is psychologically completely healthy, and uses the evidence to his advantage.

Film adaptations

• The work has been filmed several times.
• American film No change on the Western Front() director Lewis Milestone received an Oscar.
• In 1979, director Delbert Mann made a television version of the film. No change on the Western Front.
• In 1983, famous singer Elton John wrote an anti-war song of the same name related to the film.
• Film .

Soviet writer Nikolai Brykin wrote a novel about the First World War (1975), entitled " Changes on the Eastern Front».

Links

• Im Westen nichts Neues in German in the philologist's library E-Lingvo.net
• All Quiet on the Western Front in the Maxim Moshkov Library

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No change on the Western Front- From German: Im Westen nichts Neues. Russian translation (translator Yu. N. Lfonkina) of the title of the novel by the German writer Erich Maria Remarque (1898 1970) about the First World War. This phrase was often found in German reports from the theater of war... Dictionary of popular words and expressions

This book is neither an accusation nor a confession. This is only an attempt to talk about the generation that was destroyed by the war, about those who became its

A victim, even if he escaped the shells.

We are standing nine kilometers from the front line. Yesterday we were replaced; Now our stomachs are full of beans and meat, and we all walk around full and satisfied.
Even for dinner, everyone got a full pot; In addition, we get a double portion of bread and sausage - in a word, we live well. Such a

This hasn’t happened to us in a long time: our kitchen god with his crimson, like a tomato, bald head himself offers us more food; he waves a ladle,

He calls out to those passing by and gives them hefty portions. He still won’t empty his “squeaker,” and this drives him into despair. Tjaden and Müller

We got hold of several basins from somewhere and filled them to the brim - in reserve.
Tjaden did it out of gluttony, Müller out of caution. Where everything that Tjaden eats goes is a mystery to all of us. He doesn't care

Remains as skinny as a herring.
But the most important thing is that the smoke was also given out in double portions. Each person has ten cigars, twenty cigarettes and two bars of chewing gum.

Tobacco. Overall, pretty decent. I exchanged Katchinsky’s cigarettes for my tobacco, so now I have forty in total. To last one day

Can.
But, strictly speaking, we are not entitled to all this at all. The management is not capable of such generosity. We were just lucky.
Two weeks ago we were sent to the front line to relieve another unit. It was quite calm in our area, so by the day of our return

The captain received allowances according to the usual distribution and ordered to cook for a company of one hundred and fifty people. But just on the last day

The British suddenly threw up their heavy “meat grinders”, very unpleasant things, and beat them on our trenches for so long that we suffered heavy

There were casualties, and only eighty people returned from the front line.
We arrived at the rear at night and immediately stretched out on our bunks to first get a good night's sleep; Katchinsky is right: it wouldn’t be like this in war

It's bad, if only I could sleep more. You never get much sleep on the front line, and two weeks drag on for a long time.
When the first of us began to crawl out of the barracks, it was already midday. Half an hour later we grabbed our bowlers and gathered at our dear

The heart of the “squeaker”, which smelled of something rich and tasty. Of course, those with the biggest appetites were first in line:

Short Albert Kropp, the brightest head in our company and, probably, that’s why he was only recently promoted to corporal; Muller the Fifth, who before

He still carries textbooks with him and dreams of passing preferential exams; under hurricane fire he crams the laws of physics; Leer who wears a broad

He has a beard and has a weakness for girls from brothels for officers; he swears that there is an army order obliging these girls to wear silk

Linen, and before receiving visitors with the rank of captain and above - take a bath; the fourth is me, Paul Bäumer. All four are nineteen years old, all

Four went to the front from the same class.
Immediately behind us are our friends: Tjaden, a mechanic, a frail young man of the same age as us, the most gluttonous soldier in the company - he sits down to eat

Thin and slender, and after eating, he stands up pot-bellied, like a sucking bug; Haye Westhus, also our age, is a peat worker who can freely

Take a loaf of bread in your hand and ask: Well, guess what’s in my fist? "; Detering, a peasant who thinks only about his farm

And about his wife; and, finally, Stanislav Katchinsky, the soul of our department, a man of character, smart and cunning - he is forty years old, he has

A sallow face, blue eyes, sloping shoulders, and an extraordinary sense of smell about when the shelling will begin, where you can get food and how best to

Just to hide from the authorities.

This book is neither an accusation nor a confession. This is only an attempt to tell about the generation that was destroyed by the war, about those who became its victims, even if they escaped from the shells.

We are standing nine kilometers from the front line. Yesterday we were replaced; Now our stomachs are full of beans and meat, and we all walk around full and satisfied. Even for dinner, everyone got a full pot; In addition, we get a double portion of bread and sausage - in a word, we live well. This hasn’t happened to us for a long time: our kitchen god with his crimson, like a tomato, bald head himself offers us more food; he waves the ladle, inviting passers-by, and pours out hefty portions to them. He still won’t empty his “squeaker,” and this drives him into despair. Tjaden and Müller obtained several basins from somewhere and filled them to the brim - in reserve. Tjaden did it out of gluttony, Müller out of caution. Where everything that Tjaden eats goes is a mystery to all of us. He still remains as skinny as a herring.

But the most important thing is that the smoke was also given out in double portions. Each person had ten cigars, twenty cigarettes and two bars of chewing tobacco. Overall, pretty decent. I exchanged Katchinsky’s cigarettes for my tobacco, so now I have forty in total. You can last one day.

But, strictly speaking, we are not entitled to all this at all. The management is not capable of such generosity. We were just lucky.

Two weeks ago we were sent to the front line to relieve another unit. It was quite calm in our area, so by the day of our return the captain received allowances according to the usual distribution and ordered to cook for a company of one hundred and fifty people. But just on the last day, the British suddenly brought up their heavy “meat grinders”, most unpleasant things, and beat them on our trenches for so long that we suffered heavy losses, and only eighty people returned from the front line.

We arrived at the rear at night and immediately stretched out on our bunks to first get a good night's sleep; Katchinsky is right: the war would not be so bad if only one could sleep more. You never get much sleep on the front line, and two weeks drag on for a long time.

When the first of us began to crawl out of the barracks, it was already midday. Half an hour later, we grabbed our pots and gathered at the “squeaker” dear to our hearts, which smelled of something rich and tasty. Of course, the first in line were those who always had the biggest appetite: short Albert Kropp, the brightest head in our company and, probably for this reason, only recently promoted to corporal; Muller the Fifth, who still carries textbooks with him and dreams of passing preferential exams; under hurricane fire he crams the laws of physics; Leer, who wears a full beard and has a weakness for girls from brothels for officers; he swears that there is an army order obliging these girls to wear silk underwear, and to take a bath before receiving visitors with the rank of captain and above; the fourth is me, Paul Bäumer. All four were nineteen years old, all four went to the front from the same class.

Immediately behind us are our friends: Tjaden, a mechanic, a frail young man of the same age as us, the most gluttonous soldier in the company - for food he sits thin and slender, and after eating, he stands up pot-bellied, like a sucked bug; Haye Westhus, also our age, is a peat worker who can freely take a loaf of bread in his hand and ask: Well, guess what’s in my fist? "; Detering, a peasant who thinks only about his farm and his wife; and, finally, Stanislav Katchinsky, the soul of our squad, a man with character, smart and cunning - he is forty years old, he has a sallow face, blue eyes, sloping shoulders, and an extraordinary sense of smell about when the shelling will begin, where he can get hold of food and What's the best way to hide from your boss?

Our section headed the line that formed near the kitchen. We began to get impatient as the unsuspecting cook was still waiting for something.

Finally Katchinsky shouted to him:

Well, open up your glutton, Heinrich! And so you can see that the beans are cooked!

The cook shook his head sleepily:

Let everyone gather first.

Tjaden grinned:

And we are all here! The cook still didn't notice anything:

Hold your pocket wider! Where are the others?

They are not on your payroll today! Some are in the infirmary, and some are in the ground!

Upon learning of what had happened, the kitchen god was struck down. He was even shaken:

And I cooked for a hundred and fifty people! Kropp poked him in the side with his fist.

So, at least once we'll eat our fill. Come on, start the distribution!

At that moment, a sudden thought struck Tjaden. His face, sharp as a mouse, lit up, his eyes squinted slyly, his cheekbones began to play, and he came closer:

Heinrich, my friend, so you got bread for a hundred and fifty people?

The dumbfounded cook nodded absently.

Tjaden grabbed him by the chest:

And sausage too? The cook nodded again with his head as purple as a tomato. Tjaden's jaw dropped:

And tobacco?

Well, yes, that's it.

Tjaden turned to us, his face beaming:

Damn it, that's lucky! After all, now everything will go to us! It will be - wait for it! - that’s right, exactly two servings per nose!

But then the Tomato came to life again and said:

It won't work that way.

Now we, too, shook off our sleep and squeezed closer.

Hey you, carrot, why won't it work? - asked Katchinsky.

Yes, because eighty is not one hundred and fifty!

“But we’ll show you how to do it,” Muller grumbled.

You’ll get the soup, so be it, but I’ll only give you bread and sausage for eighty,” Tomato continued to persist.

Katchinsky lost his temper:

I wish I could send you to the front line just once! You received food not for eighty people, but for the second company, that’s it. And you will give them away! The second company is us.

We took Pomodoro into circulation. Everyone disliked him: more than once, through his fault, lunch or dinner ended up in our trenches cold, very late, since even with the most insignificant fire he did not dare to move closer with his cauldron, and our food bearers had to crawl much further than theirs. brothers from other companies. Here is Bulke from the first company, he was much better. Although he was as fat as a hamster, if necessary, he dragged his kitchen almost to the very front.

We were in a very belligerent mood, and things would probably have come to a fight if the company commander had not appeared at the scene. Having learned what we were arguing about, he only said:

Yes, yesterday we had big losses...

Then he looked into the cauldron:

And the beans seem to be quite good.

The tomato nodded:

With lard and beef.

The lieutenant looked at us. He understood what we were thinking. In general, he understood a lot - after all, he himself came from our midst: he came to the company as a non-commissioned officer. He lifted the lid of the cauldron again and sniffed. As he left, he said:

Bring me a plate too. And distribute portions for everyone. Why should good things disappear?

Tomato's face took on a stupid expression. Tjaden danced around him:

It’s okay, it won’t hurt you! He imagines that he is in charge of the entire quartermaster service. Now get started, old rat, and make sure you don’t miscalculate!..

Get lost, hanged man! - Tomato hissed. He was ready to burst with anger; everything that happened could not fit into his head, he did not understand what was going on in this world. And as if wanting to show that now everything was the same to him, he himself distributed another half a pound of artificial honey to his brother.

Today turned out to be a good day indeed. Even the mail arrived; almost everyone received several letters and newspapers. Now we slowly wander to the meadow behind the barracks. Kropp carries a round margarine barrel lid under his arm.

On the right edge of the meadow there is a large soldiers' latrine - a well-built structure under a roof. However, it is of interest only to recruits who have not yet learned to benefit from everything. We are looking for something better for ourselves. The fact is that here and there in the meadow there are single cabins intended for the same purpose. These are quadrangular boxes, neat, made entirely of boards, closed on all sides, with a magnificent, very comfortable seat. They have handles on the sides so the booths can be moved.

“War spares no one.” This is true. Whether it is a defender or an aggressor, a soldier or a civilian, no one, looking into the face of death, will remain the same. No one is prepared for the horrors of war. Perhaps this is what Erich Remarque, the author of the work “All Quiet on the Western Front,” wanted to say.

History of the novel

There was a lot of controversy surrounding this work. Therefore, it would be correct to start with the history of the birth of the novel before presenting a summary. “All Quiet on the Western Front” Erich Maria Remarque wrote as a participant in those terrible events.

He went to the front in the early summer of 1917. Remarque spent several weeks on the front line, was wounded in August and remained in the hospital until the end of the war. But all the time he corresponded with his friend Georg Middendorf, who remained in position.

Remarque asked to report in as much detail as possible about life at the front and did not hide the fact that he wanted to write a book about the war. The summary begins with these events (“All Quiet on the Western Front”). Fragments of the novel contain a cruel but real picture of the terrible trials that befell the soldiers.

The war ended, but the lives of none of them returned to their previous course.

The company is resting

In the first chapter, the author shows the real life of soldiers - unheroic, terrifying. He emphasizes the extent to which the cruelty of war changes people - moral principles are lost, values ​​are lost. This is the generation that was destroyed by the war, even those who escaped the shells. The novel “All Quiet on the Western Front” begins with these words.

Rested soldiers go to breakfast. The cook prepared food for the entire company - 150 people. They want to take extra helpings of their fallen comrades. The main concern of the cook is not to give out anything beyond the norm. And only after a heated argument and the intervention of the company commander does the cook distribute all the food.

Kemmerich, one of Paul's classmates, was hospitalized with a thigh wound. The friends go to the infirmary, where they are informed that the guy’s leg has been amputated. Muller, seeing his strong English boots, argues that a one-legged man does not need them. The wounded man writhes in unbearable pain, and, in exchange for cigarettes, his friends persuade one of the orderlies to give their friend an injection of morphine. They left there with heavy hearts.

Kantorek, their teacher who persuaded them to join the army, sent them a pompous letter. He calls them “iron youth.” But the guys are no longer touched by words about patriotism. They unanimously accuse the class teacher of exposing them to the horrors of war. This is how the first chapter ends. Its summary. “All Quiet on the Western Front” reveals chapter by chapter the characters, feelings, aspirations, and dreams of these young guys who find themselves face to face with the war.

Death of a friend

Paul remembers his life before the war. As a student, he wrote poetry. Now he feels empty and cynical. All this seems so far away to him. Pre-war life is a vague, unrealistic dream that has no relation to the world created by the war. Paul feels completely cut off from humanity.

At school they were taught that patriotism requires the suppression of individuality and personality. Paul's platoon was trained by Himmelstoss. The former postman was a small, stocky man who tirelessly humiliated his recruits. Paul and his friends hated Himmelstoss. But Paul now knows that those humiliations and discipline toughened them up and probably helped them survive.

Kemmerich is close to death. He is saddened by the fact that he will never become the chief forester, as he dreamed. Paul sits next to his friend, comforting him and assuring him that he will get better and return home. Kemmerich says he is giving his boots to Müller. He becomes ill, and Paul goes to look for a doctor. When he returns, his friend is already dead. The body is immediately removed from the bed to make room.

It would seem that the summary of the second chapter ended with what cynical words. “All Quiet on the Western Front,” from chapter 4 of the novel, will reveal the true essence of the war. Once you come into contact with it, a person will not remain the same. War hardens, makes you indifferent - to orders, to blood, to death. She will never leave a person, but will always be with him - in memory, in body, in soul.

Young replenishment

A group of recruits arrives at the company. They are a year younger than Paul and his friends, which makes them feel like grizzled veterans. There is not enough food and blankets. Paul and his friends remember the barracks where they were recruits with longing. Himmelstoss's humiliations seem idyllic compared to real war. The guys remember the drill in the barracks and discuss the war.

Tjaden arrives and excitedly reports that Himmelstoss has arrived at the front. They remember his bullying and decide to take revenge on him. One night, as he was returning from the pub, they threw bedclothes over his head, took off his trousers and beat him with a whip, muffling his screams with a pillow. They retreated so quickly that Himmelstoss never found out who his offenders were.

Night shelling

The company is sent at night to the front line for sapper work. Paul reflects that for a soldier the land takes on a new meaning at the front: it saves him. Here ancient animal instincts awaken, which save many people if you obey them without hesitation. At the front, the instinct of the beast awakens in men, Paul argues. He understands how much a person degrades, surviving in inhuman conditions. This is clearly evident from the summary of “All Quiet on the Western Front.”

Chapter 4 will shed light on what it was like for young, unexamined boys to find themselves at the front. During the shelling, a recruit lies next to Paul, clinging to him, as if seeking protection. When the shots died down a little, he admitted with horror that he had defecated in his pants. Paul explains to the boy that many soldiers face this problem. You can hear the painful neighing of wounded horses struggling in agony. The soldiers finish them off, saving them from suffering.

The shelling begins with renewed vigor. Paul crawled out of his hiding place and saw that the same boy who was clinging to him out of fear was seriously wounded.

Terrifying reality

The fifth chapter begins with a description of the unsanitary living conditions at the front. The soldiers sit, stripped to the waist, crushing lice and discussing what they will do after the war. They calculated that out of twenty people from their class, only twelve remained. Seven are dead, four are wounded, and one has gone mad. They mockingly repeat the questions that Kantorek asked them at school. Paul has no idea what he will do after the war. Kropp concludes that the war has destroyed everything. They cannot believe in anything other than war.

The fighting continues

The company is sent to the front line. Their path lies through the school, along the facade of which there are brand new coffins. Hundreds of coffins. The soldiers joke about this. But on the front line it turns out that the enemy has received reinforcements. Everyone is in a depressed mood. Night and day pass in tense anticipation. They sit in trenches where disgusting fat rats scurry about.

The soldier has no choice but to wait. Days pass before the earth begins to shake with explosions. Almost nothing remained of their trench. Trial by fire is too much of a shock for new recruits. One of them became furious and tried to escape. Apparently he's gone crazy. The soldiers tie him up, but the other recruit manages to escape.

Another night has passed. Suddenly the nearby explosions stop. The enemy begins to attack. German soldiers repulse the attack and reach enemy positions. All around are the screams and groans of the wounded, mutilated corpses. Paul and his comrades need to return. But before doing this, they greedily grab cans of stew and note that the enemy has much better conditions than them.

Paul reminisces about the past. These memories hurt. Suddenly the fire fell on their positions with renewed force. Chemical attacks claim the lives of many. They die a painful, slow death from suffocation. Everyone runs out of their hiding places. But Himmelstoss hides in a trench and pretends to be wounded. Paul tries to drive him out with blows and threats.

There are explosions all around, and it seems that the whole earth is bleeding. New soldiers are brought in to replace them. The commander calls their company to the vehicles. The roll call begins. Of the 150 people, thirty-two remained.

After reading the summary of “All Quiet on the Western Front,” we see that the company twice suffers huge losses. The heroes of the novel return to duty. But the worst thing is another war. War against degradation, against stupidity. War with yourself. But here victory is not always on your side.

Paul goes home

The company is sent to the rear, where it will be reorganized. Having experienced horror before the battles, Himmelstoss tries to “rehabilitate himself” - he gets good food for the soldiers and an easy job. Away from the trenches they try to joke. But the humor becomes too bitter and dark.

Paul gets seventeen days of vacation. In six weeks he must report to the training unit, and then to the front. He wonders how many of his friends will survive during this time. Paul arrives in his hometown and sees that the civilian population is starving. He learns from his sister that his mother has cancer. Relatives ask Paul how things are going at the front. But he doesn't have enough words to describe all this horror.

Paul sits in his bedroom with his books and paintings, trying to bring back his childhood feelings and desires, but the memories are only shadows. His identity as a soldier is the only thing he has now. The end of the holiday approaches, and Paul visits the mother of Kemmerich's deceased friend. She wants to know how he died. Paul lies to her that her son died without suffering or pain.

Mother sits with Paul in the bedroom all last night. He pretends to be asleep, but notices that his mother is in severe pain. He makes her go to bed. Paul returns to his room, and from the surge of feelings, from hopelessness, he squeezes the iron bars of the bed and thinks that it would be better if he had not come. It only got worse. Sheer pain - from pity for her mother, for herself, from the realization that there is no end to this horror.

Camp with prisoners of war

Paul arrives at the training unit. There is a prisoner of war camp next to their barracks. Russian prisoners stealthily walk around their barracks and rummage through waste bins. Paul cannot understand what they find there. They are starving, but Paul notes that the prisoners treat each other like brothers. They are in such a pitiful situation that Paul has no reason to hate them.

Prisoners are dying every day. Russians bury several people at a time. Paul sees the terrible conditions they are in, but pushes away thoughts of pity so as not to lose his composure. He shares cigarettes with prisoners. One of them found out that Paul played the piano and began to play the violin. She sounds thin and lonely, and this makes her even more sad.

Return to duty

Paul arrives at the location and finds his friends alive and unharmed. He shares with them the food he brought. While waiting for the Kaiser to arrive, the soldiers are tortured with drills and work. They were given new clothes, which were immediately taken away after his departure.

Paul volunteers to gather information about enemy forces. The area is being shelled with machine guns. A flare flashes above Paul, and he realizes that he must lie still. Footsteps were heard, and someone's heavy body fell on him. Paul reacts with lightning speed - strikes with a dagger.

Paul cannot watch the enemy he wounded die. He crawls over to him, bandages his wounds and gives water to their flasks. A few hours later he dies. Paul finds letters in his wallet, a photo of a woman and a little girl. From the documents, he guessed that it was a French soldier.

Paul talks to the dead soldier and explains that he did not want to kill him. Every word he reads plunges Paul into a feeling of guilt and pain. He rewrites the address and decides to send money to his family. Paul promises that if he remains alive, he will do everything to ensure that this never happens again.

Three weeks feast

Paul and his friends guard a food warehouse in an abandoned village. They decided to use this time with pleasure. They covered the floor in the dugout with mattresses from abandoned houses. We got eggs and fresh butter. They caught two piglets that miraculously survived. Potatoes, carrots, and young peas were found in the fields. And they arranged a feast for themselves.

A well-fed life lasted three weeks. After which they were evacuated to a neighboring village. The enemy began shelling, Kropp and Paul were wounded. They are picked up by an ambulance, which is full of wounded. They are operated on in the infirmary and sent by train to the hospital.

One of the nurses had difficulty persuading Paul to lie down on the snow-white sheets. He is not yet ready to return to the fold of civilization. Dirty clothes and lice make him feel uncomfortable here. Classmates are sent to a Catholic hospital.

Soldiers die in hospital every day. Kropp's entire leg is amputated. He says he will shoot himself. Paul thinks that the hospital is the best place to learn what war is like. He wonders what awaits his generation after the war.

Paul receives leave to recover at home. Leaving for the front and parting with your mother is even more difficult than the first time. She is even weaker than before. This is the summary of the tenth chapter. “All Quiet on the Western Front” is a story that covers not only military operations, but also the behavior of heroes on the battlefield.

The novel reveals how, facing death and cruelty every day, Paul begins to feel uncomfortable in peaceful life. He rushes about, trying to find peace of mind at home, next to his family. But nothing comes of it. Deep down, he understands that he will never find him again.

Terrible losses

The war rages, but the German army is noticeably weakening. Paul stopped counting the days and weeks that went by in battle. The pre-war years are “no longer valid” because they have ceased to mean anything. The life of a soldier is a constant avoidance of death. They reduce you to the level of mindless animals, because instinct is the best weapon against an inexorable mortal danger. This helps them survive.

Spring. The food is bad. The soldiers were emaciated and hungry. Detering brought a cherry blossom branch and remembered the house. He soon deserts. They caught him and caught him. No one heard anything more about him.

Muller is killed. Leer was wounded in the thigh and is bleeding. Berting was wounded in the chest, Kat - in the shin. Paul drags the wounded Kat on himself, they talk. Exhausted, Paul stops. The orderlies come up and say that Kat is dead. Paul did not notice that his comrade was wounded in the head. Paul doesn't remember anything else.

Defeat is inevitable

Autumn. 1918 Paul is the only one of his classmates who survived. Bloody battles continue. The United States joins the enemy. Everyone understands that Germany's defeat is inevitable.

After being gassed, Paul rests for two weeks. He sits under a tree and imagines how he will return home. He gets scared. He thinks that they will all return as living corpses. Shells of people, empty inside, tired, lost hope. Paul finds this thought hard to bear. He feels that his own life has been irrevocably destroyed.

Paul was killed in October. On an unusually quiet peaceful day. When he was turned over, his face was calm, as if to say that he was glad that everything ended this way. At this time, a report was transmitted from the front line: “No change on the Western Front.”

The meaning of the novel

The First World War made adjustments to world politics, became a catalyst for revolution and the collapse of empires. These changes affected everyone's lives. About war, suffering, friendship - this is exactly what the author wanted to say. This is clearly shown in the summary.

Remarque wrote “All Quiet on the Western Front” in 1929. The subsequent World Wars were bloodier and more brutal. Therefore, the theme raised by Remarque in the novel was continued in his subsequent books and in the works of other writers.

Undoubtedly, this novel is a grandiose event in the arena of world literature of the 20th century. This work not only sparked debate about its literary merits, but also caused enormous political resonance.

The novel is one of the hundred must-read books. The work requires not only an emotional attitude, but also a philosophical one. This is evidenced by the style and manner of narration, the author’s style and summary. “All Quiet on the Western Front,” as some sources testify, is second only to the Bible in terms of circulation and readability.