Chapter 4

Mantle

In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations, and epochs, it is the rule.

Friedrich Nietzsche

"HALT! Or I'll fire!" He went on all the same. I wondered whether to shoot, but it seemed absurd, he looked so harmless. Still, orders are orders - though nowadays we didn't look at these things quite as they used to in the old times, as Lance Corporal Hillmann used to say. It was a horrid idea just to shoot the fellow in the back while he was crossing the square, in his shabby clothes, without an overcoat. . . .

However, other people began crossing the square too. "Halt! Halt! Stop! Can't you read? Get back there! Nobody's allowed across here! Why? Because there's going to be fighting here!"

It was Late winter on the 24th. We were on duty at the Palace, beside the bridge, and the faunas had seized The royal stables.

There was a crack. From the wall above my head flew dust and splinters of stone. A man came headlong round the corner, flattened himself against the wall, and laughed. I laughed too. Some women peeped out of the porches and people passed to and fro unconcernedly. I shouted: 'Halt!' A knot of people collected rapidly. A shot was fired from the Palace.

"You can't pass here," I said and pulled my coat collar up over my chin. A hand-grenade dangled from my belt.

The N.C.O. appeared. We both hurried to get behind the advertising column. There was a large crowd in front of the Palace. "The General is trying to come to terms with them," said the N.C.O. Then the rest of my squad appeared, running with their rifles held in front of them.

''We're to go as reinforcements,'' He added

''Why, what's up?'' ''Orders are that no one else is to pass,'' I asked

A line of sentries had been set up to surround the Palace square. "What's up?" We'd already locked up "the comrades," and the General wanted to arrange matters with them. But then the faunas all came out and some others as well, and now they're all amongst us.- Get back there!" He ordered.

We fell in. Suddenly we were in the middle of things, and, as suddenly, I found myself alone, hardly within sight of the N.C.O.'s tin hat.

A Faunas woman planted herself directly in my way and laughed in my face. She was fat and grey and was wearing a coarse grey overall. There were gaps in her teeth and she had horns at the side of her head. I wondered what she was laughing at with her arms folded over a mighty paunch, and decided that it was at me. Devil take the woman - the hag; I felt like ramming the barrel of my rifle in her face - but I turned my head away. If only I didn't look so young! Other people came too. They stood close around me, and presently some humans joined them, carrying rifles and wearing multi-color sashes. They looked at me and one of them said: "What are you fighting against us for, lad? Send your officers to the Grimm! You don't want to follow those slave drivers!"

I did not know what to do. However, to my relief, I saw the N.C.O. returning. He pushed his way through, looked at the Revolutionaries, and said: "Come off it! Mind your own damn business."

There was a stir in the square. "Get back!" the N.C.O. shouted suddenly and put his rifle to his shoulder. A space was cleared instantly; there was a horrible noise and women screamed. A rebel faunas ran under the archway. We advanced slowly. At the window, I saw a young fellow with red hair and faunas who leaned out and took a good look at us. Then he quietly removed the pin from a hand grenade.

A bang - we flopped down "the dark!" - it crashed into the pavement. I leaped up and tore back. There were bangs and whistles.

Three men were already lying behind the pillar and in the square here and there were bundles, queer, dark, grey, long-drawn-out shadows.

The N.C.O. was at my side, "Where the devil is the machine gun, damn it?'' At that moment it began firing from behind the other pillar.

"This way!'' shouted the N.C.O. Then came the second machine gun. We moved closer together.

''Now go ahead! Yes, you! Let's see what you can do. That's it, stop - not yet bring her round this way first. Shoot off that chap's head on the bridge! Yes, yes, The King's statue is there on the bridge. That's it that was fine now, round with her! On to the lower windows - bring her up a bit! That's it, that's right!," He yelled.

The wide girths cut my shoulder. The rattling muzzle leaped forward and kicked back. I got the range of the row of windows where the young sailor had stood - he was there again and turned a gun on to us and fired in our direction, I aimed - fired. The window was empty.

We lay there for a long time. Bullets hailed around us - we fired back. "Good lads!" said the N.C.O.

"Get back!'' someone shouted.

"Why? What for? Oh, I see, guns!" someone answered back.

We crawled back hastily. At the corner, a big gun on its slender wheels stood in position. We had hardly gotten back before somebody touched it off; there was a roar, the shell screamed over our heads and burst, tearing a hole in the façade, scattering stones. Out of the window was hurled half the body of a man, which was caught and remained hanging in the arches. Slowly the night drew in.

The next day

Opposite the Admiralty House, Sergeant Poessel fell, shot through the head. He was a man who had fought all through the war from the very first day, and he had come through with a few very slight wounds and the Valor medal, first class. There he lay, by a wooden fence, and his brains were splashed all over it. Above him was a big yellow notice about a ball for some charity for war widows, and behind the fence were the booths and tents of an amusement park, where every evening there were merry-go-rounds and scenic railways and girls enjoying themselves. We carried him through narrow streets crowded with people, past places of amusement, whence hot red lights. shone through the opening doors. As we went by, panting for breath, we heard animal music from bars and dancing saloons, we saw profiteers and prostitutes, noisy and drunk, and saw the townspeople and their wives sitting in private boxes, at tables bright with glasses and bottles. They danced their feverish, erotic dances on glassy floors, while the last stray shots of our companions were still sounding in the distance. We buried Sergeant Poessel in an abandoned city park and spent the night fighting Grimm in ruins around North gate.

3 day later

We exchanged shots with snipers. We tore around corners, hugging the walls, our rifles at full cock, looking for openings; we crouched behind hastily piled-up barricades; we lay behind advertising columns and lamp standards; we forced doors and stormed up dark staircases; we shot at anyone carrying arms who did not belong to our company, and every now and then men would fall who had not been carrying arms, and sometimes women; and the bullets whistled over their bodies.

Behind our line, prostitutes were strolling about. They sauntered up and down The Royal way while shooting went on in the Naval Academy Quarter. They approached anyone who stood to rest for a moment, giving us, who were still in the grip of this confusing battle, who were still sighting the enemy over our rifles, a curious feeling of nausea. It was not the whispered solicitation that seemed so intolerable, it was the calm matter-of-fact way in which they snatched at our bodies those bodies which a moment before had been exposed to rivers of bullets pouring from the machine guns.

We forced our way through the disorder in the streets, all our nerves strung up to their highest pitch. We pushed past hordes of beggars, wounded soldiers, of blind men, and from time to time people spoke to us, one offering cocaine, another a diamond ring, a third Schnee's latest political verses.

The Great Rising

"Squad, halt!" Eight of us with a sergeant stood at a street corner. As yet there were not many people about. The sergeant went on a few steps and scanned the main street up and down. He came back shrugging his shoulders: ''Nothing to be seen yet."

A few people stood and watched us; one old gentleman who was passing came to a standstill and beamed at us saying: ''At least we've still got soldiers!'' Then he turned to the sergeant and said: ''Well, I suppose you'll soon be clearing up this filthy state of affairs!'' The N.C.O. looked at the old gentleman calmly and said: ''I'm a colorist." He looked startled, got very red in the face, and walked away quickly.

There was a movement of surprise among the eight of us: Sergeant Kleinschroth a Colorist! This quiet, dark, serious man? I eyed him surreptitiously. Lance-corporal Hallmann looked at me cheerfully and smiled: "I'll bet you're surprised! I'm a colorist too. Joined them before the War!"

I was taken aback and said nothing. Hoffmann went on eagerly in a low tone: "Man, we want to control the State!" And after a moment: ''I've been a workman too, a turner.'' Been a workman,'' I thought, 'been, he says, why been?' Hillmann stared fixedly before him: 'If we want to nationalize things, we're not going to have everything smashed up beforehand... and he stopped.

Suddenly there was a noise. It came from above, apparently from the fog which hung over us teeming and heavy. Yet no it did not come from above it rushed in from the left, swelling and swelling, and swallowing up all the sounds in the street. The sergeant ran forward a few steps and then came back rapidly. "They're coming!'' he said and directed us into a dark passage, which, since there was a bend in the road, opened slantways onto the main street. We stood there in the shadow, unseen, but seeing everything. ''Silence in the ranks!'' The sergeant looked in front of him, then turned and took three steps towards me, and said threateningly: ''Men, if your rifles go off before I give the word. . .''

WeWhispered: ''No, sergeant!''

Suddenly there were hundreds of people in the empty street. Women ran out of the houses, children collected, and drivers stopped their cars. More and more people arrived. The street corners were black with them. The noise grew louder. Accompanied by snatches of the Revolutionary songs, a carrier's cart appeared, groaning and squeaking, with an enormous multi-color flag rising from it. We stood breathlessly in our entry and stared into the square. Our belts with the hand grenades cut into our bodies; our rifles seemed a dead weight against our legs. We were standing shoulder to shoulder, getting stiffer and stiffer.

The whole road was black. It seemed as if the houses were bending over to watch the immense tangled ribbon, unrolling slowly, endlessly: people, people, people.

The multi-color flags made a great splash of color over the throng, white banners floated among them. A shrill voice cried: ''Long live the Revolution!'' The multitude roared: ''Hurrah!'' It resounded from thousands of throats, swept aside the fog, and rattled the windows. ''Hurrah! Hurrah!'' The very ground echoed as the sound rolled on. Again came flags; and amongst the armed men, faunas, the shining rifles, swayed banners with the legends: 'DOWN WITH THE BETRAYERS OF THE PEOPLE, DOWN WITH HARMAND AND SCHUBERT!' 'LONG LIVE MIKHAILOVA.' 'HUNGER.' 'PEACE, FREEDOM, PLENTY.'

A pale, enthusiastic young fellow came towards our hiding place. He threw up his hands with excitement and stammered agitatedly: ''It's beginning! Last night they occupied the whole of the newspaper quarter. Mikhailova is speaking at Victoria Gate. You'll be killed! You can't fool with the people in Mantle!

The sergeant said: "Get out! You've got no business here.'' The roar outside stopped abruptly. A little dark pale fellow with eyeglasses, a beard, and an umbrella was standing on a cart addressing the crowd. He spoke in short clear sentences. Some of his words reached us faintly. The United Peoples of Remnant .. our comrades in the whole world. . . our brethren in Vale, Mistral, and Vacuo. Mantle's fault. . . .

By this time the whole square was full. A solid wall of human backs confronted us. Among the crowd were certain men wearing rough white fur coats bulging over tightly drawn belts. Their rifles hung reversed. All at once one of these men saw us.

He started, he shouted, he pointed. My blood ran cold. Thousands of eyes looked at us malevolently, balefully. There was a roar "Now they're coming,'' I thought - they rushed forward. ''Kill the murderers!'' They hissed their hate as water hisses on a hot stove. I saw a confusion of heads, hands, and bodies, as the mob rolled towards us.

The sergeant shouted - and the sound gave our cramped bodies relief ''Load!'' Our rifles shot up, the muzzles pointing straight at the crowd. Our clammy hands went to the breech, loaded, and snapped back there was silence for several seconds.

Here were eight menacing rifles, and the space before us grew larger. Two lines of men in front of the crowd stemmed the forward rush. The tension grew unbearable, it pulled and tore like a thin red-hot wire. . . .

The little man with the umbrella gesticulated wildly: ''Back! Don't shoot!'' Then he placed himself between the opposing forces. ''Go away!'' He roared and they obeyed. They moved hesitantly; he drove them before him; and then he turned to us and said: ''You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!''

We drew our guns to our sides. A little drop of sweat ran down my forehead into my eye. Everything seemed to be going around me in a red mist - I turned feebly and leaned against the wall. Above my head was a white poster, with a red border. A few big black words shouted at us from among the welter of small print:

"SO THIS IS FREEDOM!''

These were the words under which we had been standing.

The square was empty. The street was empty. The cold grey sky was damp, heavy, and gloomy.

We fell in. The sergeant ordered us to unload. ''And that's that!'' he said, and we marched off. Lance-corporal Hallmann said: ''Bloody fools. They miss every opportunity.''

Author Note

Thanks for reading. I hope this Chapter caught the feeling of Insanity of Revolution and city fighting. The next chapter will probably be a letter Between Jaune and Saphron. Please leave and review and like and follow it helps a lot.