"We could go and get deloused, anyway," Kropp then suggests.
I am not very enthusiastic because it doesn't do one's clothes any good and a man is lousy again inside two hours.
But when we have considered the picture once more, I declare myself willing.
I go even farther.
"We might see if we could get a clean shirt as well–––"
"Socks might be better," says Albert, not without reason.
"Yes, socks too perhaps.
Let's go and explore a bit."
Then Leer and Tjaden stroll up; they look at the poster and immediately the conversation becomes smutty.
Leer was the first of our class to have intercourse, and he gave stirring details of it.
After his fashion he enjoys himself over the picture, and Tjaden supports him nobly.
It does not distress us exactly.
Who isn't smutty is no soldier; it merely does not suit us at the moment, so we edge away and march off to the de-lousing station with the same feeling as if it were a swell gentlemen's outfitters.
The houses in which we are billeted lie near the canal.
On the other side of the canal there are ponds flanked with poplars;—on the other side of the canal there are women too.
The houses on our side have been abandoned.
On the other side though one occasionally sees inhabitants.
In the evening we go swimming.
Three women come strolling along the bank.
They walk slowly and don't look away, although we have no bathing suits.
Leer calls out to them.
They laugh and stop to watch us.
We fling remarks at them in broken French, anything that comes into our heads, hastily and all jumbled together, anything to detain them.
They are not specially wonderful pieces, but then where are such to be had about here?
There is one slim little brunette, her teeth gleam when she laughs.
She has quick movements, her dress swings loosely about her legs.
Although the water is cold we are very jovial and do our best to interest them so that they will stay.
We try to make jokes and they answer with things we cannot understand; we laugh and beckon.
Tjaden is more crafty.
He runs into the house, gets a loaf of army bread and holds it up.
That produces a great effect.
They nod and beckon us to come over.
But we don't dare to do that.
It is forbidden to cross to the opposite bank.
There are sentries on all the bridges.
It's impossible without a pass.
So we indicate that they should come over to us; but they shake their heads and point to the bridge. They are not allowed to pass either.
They turn back and walk slowly down the canal, keeping along the towpath all the way.
We accompany them swimming.
After a few hundred yards they turn off and point to a house that stands a little distance away among the trees and shrubbery.
Leer asks if they live there.
They laugh—sure, that's their house.
We call out to them that we would like to come, sometime when the guards cannot see us.
At night.
To-night.
They raise their hands, put them together, rest their faces on them and shut their eyes.
They understand.
The slim brunette does a two-step.
The blonde girl twitters:
"Bread—good–––"