'Devoured by his own dogs.'
When Svejk learnt later about this tragic event he said:
'It gives me a headache to think how they are going to put all his pieces together when the day of the last judgement comes.'
7
Svejk Goes to the War
At the time when the forests on the river Raab in Galicia saw the Austrian armies fleeing across the river and when down in Serbia one after the other of the Austrian divisions were taken with their pants down and got the walloping they had long deserved, the Austrian Ministry of War suddenly remembered Svejk. Why, even he might help to get the Monarchy out of the mess.
When they brought Svejk the order to report within a week for a medical examination on Strelecky Ostrov, he happened to be lying in bed, stricken once more by rheumatism.
Mrs Muller was making coffee for him in the kitchen.
'Mrs Muller,' Svej k called softly from his room, 'Mrs Muller, come here for a moment.'
When the charwoman stood by his bed, Svejk repeated in the same soft voice:
'Sit down, Mrs Muller.'
There was something mysterious and solemn in his voice.
When she had sat down, Svejk drew himself up in bed and announced:
'I'm going to the war!'
'Holy Mother!' shrieked Mrs Muller.
'What ever are you going to do there?'
'Fight,' answered Svejk in sepulchral tones.
'Things are going very badly for Austria.
Up above they're already creeping on us at Cracow and down below on Hungary.
They're crushing us like a steam-roller on all sides and that's why they're calling me up.
I read you yesterday from the newspaper, didn't I, that dark clouds were enveloping our dear fatherland.'
'But you can't move.'
'That doesn't matter, Mrs Muller, I shall go to the war in a bathchair.
You know that confectioner round the corner?
Well, he has just the right kind of bathchair.
Years ago he used to push his lame and wicked old grandfather about in it in the fresh air.
Mrs Muller, you're going to push me to the war in that bathchair.'
Mrs Muller burst into tears:
'Oh dear, sir, shouldn't I run for the doctor?'
'You'll not run anywhere, Mrs Muller.
Except for my legs I'm completely sound cannon-fodder, and at a time when things are going badly for Austria every cripple must be at his post.
Just go on making the coffee.'
And while Mrs Muller, tear-stained and distraught, poured the coffee through the strainer, the good soldier Svejk started singing in bed:
'General Windischgriitz as the cock did crow Unfurled his banner and charged the foe.
Rataplan, rataplan, rataplan.
Charged the foe and brandished his sword Calling to Mary, Mother of the Lord.
Rataplan, rataplan, rataplan.'
The panic-stricken Mrs Muller under the impact of this aweinspiring war-song forgot about the coffee and trembling in every limb listened in horror as the good soldier Svejk continued to sing in bed:
'With Mary Mother and bridges four, Piedmont, strengthen your posts for war.
Rataplan, rataplan, rataplan.
At Solferino there was battle and slaughter, Piles of corpses and blood like water. Rataplan, rataplan, rataplan.
Arms and legs flying in the air, For the brave 18th were fighting there.
Rataplan, rataplan, rataplan.
Boys of the 18th, don't lose heart!
There's money behind in the baggage cart.
Rata plan, rata plan, rata plan.'
'For God's sake, sir, please!' came the piteous voice from the kitchen, but Svejk was already ending his war-song:
'Money in the cart and wenches in the van I What a life for a military man!
Rata plan, rata plan, rata plan.'
Mrs Muller burst out of the door and rushed for the doctor.