Alfred Neumann: War: Sad, hate-filled, hopeless and God-forsaken

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Anti-war essays, poems, short stories and literary excerpts

Alfred Neumann: Selections on war

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Alfred Neumann
From The Friends of the People (1940)
Translated by Nora Wydenbruck

…Pierre saw that the military zone did not content itself with making bivouacs and fortifying walls; mercilessly it was wielding…the elements – fire and earthquake and the flood of destruction. It seemed as though a pitiless autumn had blighted the high beautiful unoffending trees, because they stood in the way of some mysterious purpose – not only had their branches been broken and denuded of their leaves, but the trunks had been maimed, struck by lightning, splintered and split. And as if this rage against the innocent trees were not enough, the lightnings of the zone had struck the houses and rent them asunder, the earthquakes of the zone had seized them from below and shaken them until they burst, shamelessly revealing their intimate secrets, and so they were left to stand, ravaged and dismembered. And even this was not enough, for there was also the fire, tawny-yellow pillars of dense smoke rose up everywhere, from houses and woods, brewing a poisonous mist that covered the horizon. The air was loud with the muffled thunder of the blastings. Nor was this all; for even though the murdered trees cried out to God alone – and that one could not hear – the burnt and flayed houses were a part of human life, but human suffering was still lacking,

And now they came, the evacuees of the military zone, in omnibuses, landaus, farmcarts and oxcarts, in every conveyance on wheels that could roll towards the city, and could convey human beings and human possessions, hastily slaughtered cattle, chickens and rabbits that were still alive, crowded together in moving cages, even the hastily harvested fruits of the suburban soil, the kitchen gardens and the orchards. They came on all the roads and paths that led to the barriers and behind the walls, away from the zone of death; and between them and those who came towards them, the columns of soldiers and workmen who were marching into the zone, there was enmity – not a noisy, exuberant enmity, but a sad hatred as between unhappy brothers. For everything was sad, hate-filled and hopeless like the horrible military zone, and even the enmity seemed second-hand. It was neither revolution nor war, murderous though the means it employed might be, it was the prelude to war, the defence against the enemy, who appeared to be almighty and invisible like God, like a prejudiced God behind the military zone and the pall of smoke on the horizon, who had left the world one knew.

The world one knew had been forsaken by God.