The members of the commission, however, were remarkably divided in their conclusions about Svejk.
Half of them insisted that Svejk was 'a half-wit', while the other half insisted he was a scoundrel who was trying to make fun of the war.
'It'll be a bloody miracle,' roared the chairman of the commission at Svejk, 'if we don't get the better of you.'
Svejk looked at the whole commission with the godlike composure of an innocent child.
The senior staff doctor came up close to Svejk:
'I'd like to know, you swine, what you're thinking about now?'
'Humbly report, sir, I don't think at all.'
'Himmeldonnerwetter,' bawled one of the members of the commission, rattling his sabre.
'So he doesn't think at all.
Why in God's name don't you think, you Siamese elephant?'
'Humbly report, I don't think because that's forbidden to soldiers on duty.
When I was in the 91st regiment some years ago our captain always used to say
"A soldier mustn't think for himself. His superiors do it for him.
As soon as a soldier begins to think he's no longer a soldier but a dirty, lousy civilian.
Thinking doesn't get you anywhere ... " '
'Shut your mug!' the chairman of the commission interrupted Svejk in fury.
'We know all about you already.
The swine thinks he'll be taken for a genuine idiot. You're not an idiot at all, Svejk. You're cunning, you're foxy, you're a scoundrel, you're a hooligan, you're a lousy bastard, do you understand ... ? '
'Humbly report, sir, I understand.'
'I've already told you to shut your mug.
Did you hear?'
'Humbly report, sir, I heard that I must shut my mug.'
'Himmelherrgott, then shut it! When I've given you orders, you know very well that you must stop talking rot!'
'Humbly report, sir, I know well I must stop talking rot.'
The military gentlemen exchanged glances and called the sergeantmajor:
'Take this man to the office,' said the senior staff doctor pointing to Svejk, 'and wait for our announcement and report.
At the garrison they'll knock all this drivel out of his head.
The feiiow's as fit as a fiddle. He's only shamming and into the bargain he talks rot and tries to make fun of his superiors.
He thinks they're only here for his amusement and that the whole war's a joke, a laughing matter. At the garrison, Svejk, they'll soon show you that war's no picnic.'
Svejk went off with the sergeant-major to the office and on the way through the courtyard hummed to himself:
'I always thought That war was fun. A week or two And home I'd run ...
And while in the office the duty officer was bellowing at Svejk that bastards like him ought to be shot, in the wards upstairs the commission was making short shrift with the malingerers.
Of seventy patients only two got through.
One had had a leg torn off by a shell and the other suffered from genuine bone decay.
These two were the only ones who did not hear the word 'Taugliclz '.
All the others, including even the three dying of consumption, were certified fit for service at the front, whereupon the senior staff doctor did not deny himself the opportunity of making a speech.
His speech was interlarded with the most variegated oaths and was brief in content.
They were all swine and dung and only if they were to fight valiantly for His Imperial Majesty would they be fit to return to human society and after the war be forgiven for having tried to get out of military service and been malingerers.
He himself however didn't believe that this would happen and thought the gallows were in store for them all.
A youngish army doctor whose soul was still pure and uncorrupted asked the senior staff doctor if he might say a few words too.
His speech distinguished itself from that of his superior by its optimism and naivety.
He spoke in German.
He dwelt long on the fact that each of them who was leaving the hospital to join their regiments at the front must be conqueror and knight.
He was convinced they would be skilful in handling their weapons on the battlefield and honourable in all their dealings in war and in private life. They would be unconquerable warriors, mindful of the glory of Radetzky and Prince Eugene of Savoy. With their blood they would fertilize the vast fields of glory of the monarchy and victoriously accomplish the task to which history had predestined them.
With fearless courage, despising their lives, they would charge forward under the bullet-ridden ensigns of their regiments towards new glories and new victories.
Later in the corridor the senior staff doctor said to this naive man:
'My dear colleague, I can assure you it's all a complete waste of time.
Why, not even Radetzky or your Prince Eugene of Savoy could make soldiers out of bastards like them.
Whether you speak to them like an angel or a devil, it all comes to the same thing.
They're a gang of crooks.'