Disclaimer: All Quiet on the Western Front belongs to Erich Maria Remarque.
Timeline: This takes place at the very end, right before Paul's death.
A/N: I love this book and could not resist writing this. It was rather hard to write; a bit depressing. It is written in Paul's POV. Enjoy.
It is very quiet here on the Western Front. The air is still and cold. I sit here in the trenches. None of us speak. We just watch as the French make their way towards us slowly. We know that they are coming; we can feel them. We do not speak. Death has touched us recently and we have no desire to converse.
The first bomb is heard; the first shots fired. They break the silence. The sudden sound feels me with fear. It makes me think of my fallen comrades. I think of Kemmerich's death. I think about Kat. I think about everybody who I have served with.
The bombardment stops, only for a moment, allowing mother earth to once again be calm. I have time to think; time to feel. I feel hungry. I think again of Kat. If he were here, he would find us food. "Real bread, by God, and still hot too?" I remember asking Kat one day when he miraculously brought food to sustain us. But he is gone now.
I remember thinking, "All is as usual. Only the Militia man Stanislaus Katczinsky has died. I know nothing more." And I did know nothing more; still do I know nothing. Only that all of those that I cared about in the trenches are gone; dead. The field is lonely now. I am lonely.
And as the shelling starts again, breaking the perfect quiet of the Front, I realize that I will soon join them. I see the fire raining on us now, and know that I will soon be dead. I lay in the trench, ready to join them; ready to join my comrades; my friends; my brothers. All is quiet on the Western Front.
-Paul Baumer
October, 1918
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