Read the remark on the Western Front without change. Erich Remarque - All Quiet on the Western Front

No change on the Western Front

This book is neither an accusation nor a confession. This is only an attempt to tell about the generation that was destroyed by the war, about those who became its victims, even if they escaped from the shells.

We are standing nine kilometers from the front line. Yesterday we were replaced; Now our stomachs are full of beans and meat, and we all walk around full and satisfied. Even for dinner, everyone got a full pot; On top of that, we get a double portion of bread and sausage - in a word, we live well. This hasn’t happened to us for a long time: our kitchen god with his crimson, like a tomato, bald head himself offers us more food; he waves the ladle, inviting passers-by, and pours out hefty portions to them. He still won’t empty his “squeaker,” and this drives him into despair. Tjaden and Müller obtained several basins from somewhere and filled them to the brim - in reserve. Tjaden did it out of gluttony, Müller out of caution. Where everything that Tjaden eats goes is a mystery to all of us. He still remains as skinny as a herring.

But the most important thing is that the smoke was also given out in double portions. Each person had ten cigars, twenty cigarettes and two bars of chewing tobacco. Overall, pretty decent. I exchanged Katchinsky’s cigarettes for my tobacco, so now I have forty in total. You can last one day.

But, strictly speaking, we are not entitled to all this at all. The management is not capable of such generosity. We were just lucky.

Two weeks ago we were sent to the front line to relieve another unit. It was quite calm in our area, so by the day of our return the captain received allowances according to the usual distribution and ordered to cook for a company of one hundred and fifty people. But just on the last day, the British suddenly brought up their heavy “meat grinders”, most unpleasant things, and beat them on our trenches for so long that we suffered heavy losses, and only eighty people returned from the front line.

We arrived at the rear at night and immediately stretched out on our bunks to first get a good night's sleep; Katchinsky is right: the war would not be so bad if only one could sleep more. You never get much sleep on the front line, and two weeks drag on for a long time.

When the first of us began to crawl out of the barracks, it was already midday. Half an hour later, we grabbed our pots and gathered at the “squeaker” dear to our hearts, which smelled of something rich and tasty. Of course, the first in line were those who always had the biggest appetite: short Albert Kropp, the brightest head in our company and, probably for this reason, only recently promoted to corporal; Muller the Fifth, who still carries textbooks with him and dreams of passing preferential exams: under hurricane fire, he crams the laws of physics; Leer, who wears a thick beard and has a weakness for girls from brothels for officers: he swears that there is an order in the army obliging these girls to wear silk underwear, and to take a bath before receiving visitors with the rank of captain and above; the fourth is me, Paul Bäumer. All four were nineteen years old, all four went to the front from the same class.

Immediately behind us are our friends: Tjaden, a mechanic, a frail young man of the same age as us, the most gluttonous soldier in the company - for food he sits thin and slender, and after eating, he stands up pot-bellied, like a sucked bug; Haye Westhus, also our age, a peat worker who can freely take a loaf of bread in his hand and ask: “Well, guess what’s in my fist?”; Detering, a peasant who thinks only about his farm and his wife; and, finally, Stanislav Katchinsky, the soul of our squad, a man with character, smart and cunning - he is forty years old, he has a sallow face, blue eyes, sloping shoulders and an extraordinary sense of smell about when the shelling will begin, where you can get food and how It's best to hide from your superiors.

Our section headed the line that formed near the kitchen. We began to get impatient as the unsuspecting cook was still waiting for something.

Finally Katchinsky shouted to him:

- Well, open up your glutton, Heinrich! And so you can see that the beans are cooked!

The cook shook his head sleepily:

- Let everyone gather first.

Tjaden grinned:

- And we are all here!

The cook still didn't notice anything:

- Hold your pocket wider! Where are the others?

- They are not on your payroll today! Some are in the infirmary, and some are in the ground!

Upon learning of what had happened, the kitchen god was struck down. He was even shaken:

- And I cooked for a hundred and fifty people!

Kropp poked him in the side with his fist.

“That means we’ll eat our fill at least once.” Come on, start the distribution!

At that moment, a sudden thought struck Tjaden. His face, sharp as a mouse, lit up, his eyes squinted slyly, his cheekbones began to play, and he came closer:

- Heinrich, my friend, so you got bread for a hundred and fifty people?

The dumbfounded cook nodded absently.

Tjaden grabbed him by the chest:

- And sausage too?

The cook nodded again with his head as purple as a tomato. Tjaden's jaw dropped:

- And tobacco?

- Well, yes, that's it.

Tjaden turned to us, his face beaming:

- Damn it, that's lucky! After all, now everything will go to us! It will be - just wait! – that’s right, exactly two servings per nose!

But then the Tomato came to life again and said:

- It won’t work that way.

Now we, too, shook off our sleep and squeezed closer.

- Hey, carrot, why won’t it work? – asked Katchinsky.

- Yes, because eighty is not one hundred and fifty!

“But we’ll show you how to do it,” Muller grumbled.

“You’ll get the soup, so be it, but I’ll give you bread and sausage only for eighty,” Tomato continued to persist.

Katchinsky lost his temper:

“I wish I could send you to the front line just once!” You received food not for eighty people, but for the second company, that’s it. And you will give them away! The second company is us.

We took Pomodoro into circulation. Everyone disliked him: more than once, through his fault, lunch or dinner ended up in our trenches cold, very late, since even with the most insignificant fire he did not dare to move closer with his cauldron and our food bearers had to crawl much further than their brothers from other mouths. Here is Bulke from the first company, he was much better. Although he was as fat as a hamster, if necessary, he dragged his kitchen almost to the very front.

We were in a very belligerent mood, and, probably, things would have come to a fight if the company commander had not appeared at the scene. Having learned what we were arguing about, he only said:

- Yes, yesterday we had big losses...

Then he looked into the cauldron:

– And the beans seem to be quite good.

The tomato nodded:

- With lard and beef.

The lieutenant looked at us. He understood what we were thinking. In general, he understood a lot - after all, he himself came from our midst: he came to the company as a non-commissioned officer. He lifted the lid of the cauldron again and sniffed. As he left, he said:

- Bring me a plate too. And distribute portions for everyone. Why should good things disappear?

Tomato's face took on a stupid expression. Tjaden danced around him:

- It’s okay, this won’t hurt you! He imagines that he is in charge of the entire quartermaster service. Now get started, old rat, and make sure you don’t miscalculate!..

- Get lost, hanged man! - Tomato hissed. He was ready to burst with anger; everything that happened could not fit into his head, he did not understand what was going on in this world. And as if wanting to show that now everything was the same to him, he himself distributed another half a pound of artificial honey to his brother.

Today turned out to be a good day indeed. Even the mail arrived; almost everyone received several letters and newspapers. Now we slowly wander to the meadow behind the barracks. Kropp carries a round margarine barrel lid under his arm.

This book is neither an accusation nor a confession. This is only an attempt to tell about the generation that was destroyed by the war, about those who became its victims, even if they escaped from the shells.

But, strictly speaking, we are not entitled to all this at all. The management is not capable of such generosity. We were just lucky.

When the first of us began to crawl out of the barracks, it was already midday. Half an hour later, we grabbed our pots and gathered at the “squeaker” dear to our hearts, which smelled of something rich and tasty. Of course, the first in line were those who always had the biggest appetite: short Albert Kropp, the brightest head in our company and, probably for this reason, only recently promoted to corporal; Muller the Fifth, who still carries textbooks with him and dreams of passing preferential exams; under hurricane fire he crams the laws of physics; Leer, who wears a full beard and has a weakness for girls from brothels for officers; he swears that there is an army order obliging these girls to wear silk underwear, and to take a bath before receiving visitors with the rank of captain and above; the fourth is me, Paul Bäumer. All four were nineteen years old, all four went to the front from the same class.

Immediately behind us are our friends: Tjaden, a mechanic, a frail young man of the same age as us, the most gluttonous soldier in the company - he sits down for food thin and slender, and after eating, he stands up pot-bellied, like a sucked bug; Haye Westhus, also our age, is a peat worker who can freely take a loaf of bread in his hand and ask: Well, guess what’s in my fist? "; Detering, a peasant who thinks only about his farm and his wife; and, finally, Stanislav Katchinsky, the soul of our squad, a man of character, smart and cunning - he is forty years old, he has a sallow face, blue eyes, sloping shoulders, and an extraordinary sense of smell about when the shelling will begin, where he can get hold of food and What's the best way to hide from your boss?

Our section headed the line that formed near the kitchen. We began to get impatient as the unsuspecting cook was still waiting for something.

Finally Katchinsky shouted to him:

- Well, open up your glutton, Heinrich! And so you can see that the beans are cooked!

The cook shook his head sleepily:

- Let everyone gather first.

Tjaden grinned:

- And we are all here! The cook still didn't notice anything:

- Hold your pocket wider! Where are the others?

- They are not on your payroll today! Some are in the infirmary, and some are in the ground!

Upon learning of what had happened, the kitchen god was struck down. He was even shaken:

- And I cooked for a hundred and fifty people! Kropp poked him in the side with his fist.

“That means we’ll eat our fill at least once.” Come on, start the distribution!

At that moment, a sudden thought struck Tjaden. His face, sharp as a mouse, lit up, his eyes squinted slyly, his cheekbones began to play, and he came closer:

- Heinrich, my friend, so you got bread for a hundred and fifty people?

The dumbfounded cook nodded absently.

Tjaden grabbed him by the chest:

- And sausage too? The cook nodded again with his head as purple as a tomato. Tjaden's jaw dropped:

- And tobacco?

- Well, yes, that's it.

Tjaden turned to us, his face beaming:

- Damn it, that's lucky! After all, now everything will go to us! It will be - just wait! – that’s right, exactly two servings per nose!

But then the Tomato came to life again and said:

- It won’t work that way.

Now we, too, shook off our sleep and squeezed closer.

- Hey, carrot, why won’t it work? – asked Katchinsky.

- Yes, because eighty is not one hundred and fifty!

“But we’ll show you how to do it,” Muller grumbled.

“You’ll get the soup, so be it, but I’ll give you bread and sausage only for eighty,” Tomato continued to persist.

Katchinsky lost his temper:

“I wish I could send you to the front line just once!” You received food not for eighty people, but for the second company, that’s it. And you will give them away! The second company is us.

We took Pomodoro into circulation. Everyone disliked him: more than once, through his fault, lunch or dinner ended up in our trenches cold, very late, since even with the most insignificant fire he did not dare to move closer with his cauldron, and our food bearers had to crawl much further than theirs. brothers from other companies. Here is Bulke from the first company, he was much better. Although he was as fat as a hamster, if necessary, he dragged his kitchen almost to the very front.

We were in a very belligerent mood, and things would probably have come to a fight if the company commander had not appeared at the scene. Having learned what we were arguing about, he only said:

- Yes, yesterday we had big losses...

Then he looked into the cauldron:

– And the beans seem to be quite good.

The tomato nodded:

- With lard and beef.

The novel All Quiet on the Western Front was published in 1929. Many publishers doubted his success - he was too frank and uncharacteristic of the ideology of glorification of Germany, which lost the First World War, that existed in society at that time. Erich Maria Remarque, who volunteered for the war in 1916, in his work was not so much the author as a merciless witness of what he saw on the European battlefields. Honestly, simply, without unnecessary emotions, but with merciless cruelty, the author described all the horrors of the war that irrevocably destroyed his generation. “All Quiet on the Western Front” is a novel not about heroes, but about victims, among whom Remarque counts both young people who died and those who escaped from shells.

Main characters works - yesterday's schoolchildren, like the author, who went to the front as volunteers (students of the same class - Paul Beumer, Albert Kropp, Müller, Leer, Franz Kemmerich), and their older comrades (the mechanic Tjaden, the peat worker Haye Westhus, the peasant Detering, Stanislav Katchinsky, who knows how to get out of any situation) - they don’t so much live and fight as they try to escape from death. Young people who fell for the bait of teacher propaganda quickly realized that war is not an opportunity to valiantly serve their homeland, but the most ordinary massacre, in which there is nothing heroic and humane.

The first artillery shelling immediately put everything in its place - the authority of the teachers collapsed, taking with it the worldview that they instilled. On the battlefield, everything that the heroes were taught in school turned out to be unnecessary: physical laws were replaced by the laws of life, which consist in the knowledge of “how to light a cigarette in the rain and wind” and what’s the best way... to kill - “It is best to strike with a bayonet in the stomach, and not in the ribs, because the bayonet does not get stuck in the stomach”.

The First World War not only divided nations - it severed the internal connection between two generations: while "parents" they also wrote articles and made speeches about heroism, "children" passed through hospitals and dying people; while "parents" still placed service to the state above all else, "children" already knew that there is nothing stronger than the fear of death. According to Paul, awareness of this truth did not make any of them "neither a rebel, nor a deserter, nor a coward", but it gave them a terrible insight.

Internal changes in the heroes began to occur even at the stage of barracks drill, which consisted of meaningless trumping, standing at attention, pacing, taking guard duty, turning right and left, clicking heels and constant abuse and nagging. Preparation for war made young men “callous, distrustful, ruthless, vindictive, rude”- the war showed them that these were the qualities they needed in order to survive. Barracks training developed future soldiers “a strong feeling of mutual cohesion, always ready to be translated into action”- the war turned him into "the only good thing" what she could give to humanity - "partnership" . But at the time of the beginning of the novel, only twelve people remained from former classmates instead of twenty: seven had already been killed, four were wounded, one ended up in an insane asylum, and at the time of its completion - no one. Remarque left everyone on the battlefield, including his main character, Paul Bäumer, whose philosophical reasoning constantly broke into the fabric of the narrative in order to explain to the reader the essence of what was happening, understandable only to a soldier.

The war for the heroes of “All Quiet on the Western Front” takes place in three art spaces: at the forefront, at the front and in the rear. The worst thing is where shells are constantly exploding, and attacks are replaced by counterattacks, where flares burst "rain of white, green and red stars", and the wounded horses scream so terribly, as if the whole world was dying with them. There, in this "ominous whirlpool" which draws a person in, "paralyzing all resistance", the only "friend, brother and mother" For a soldier, the earth becomes, because it is in its folds, depressions and hollows that one can hide, obeying the only instinct possible on the battlefield - the instinct of the beast. Where life depends only on chance, and death awaits a person at every step, anything is possible - hiding in coffins torn apart by bombs, killing your own to save them from suffering, regretting bread eaten by rats, listening to people screaming in pain for several days in a row. a dying man who cannot be found on the battlefield.

The rear part of the front is a borderline space between military and civilian life: there is a place for simple human joys - reading newspapers, playing cards, talking with friends, but all this one way or another passes under the sign of something ingrained in the blood of every soldier "coarsening". A shared restroom, theft of food, the expectation of comfortable boots passed from hero to hero as they are wounded and die - completely natural things for those who are used to fighting for their existence.

The vacation given to Paul Bäumer and his immersion into the space of peaceful existence finally convince the hero that people like him will never be able to return back. Eighteen-year-old boys, just getting acquainted with life and beginning to love it, were forced to shoot at it and hit themselves right in the heart. For people of the older generation who have strong ties to the past (wives, children, professions, interests), the war is a painful, but still temporary break in life; for the young, it is a stormy stream that easily tore them out of the shaky soil of parental love and children's rooms. with bookshelves and carried it to who knows where.

The pointlessness of war, in which one person must kill another just because someone from above told them that they were enemies, forever cut off yesterday’s schoolchildren’s faith in human aspirations and progress. They believe only in war, so they have no place in peaceful life. They believe only in death, which sooner or later everything ends, so they have no place in life as such. The “Lost Generation” has nothing to talk about with their parents, who know the war from rumors and newspapers; The “lost generation” will never pass on their sad experience to those who come after them. You can only learn what war is in the trenches; the whole truth about it can only be told in a work of art.

In the novel “All Quiet on the Western Front,” one of the most characteristic works of literature of the “lost generation,” Remarque depicted everyday life at the front, which preserved for soldiers only elementary forms of solidarity that united them in the face of death.

Erich Maria Remarque

No change on the Western Front

I

We are standing nine kilometers from the front line. Yesterday we were replaced; Now our stomachs are full of beans and meat, and we all walk around full and satisfied. Even for dinner, everyone got a full pot; In addition, we get a double portion of bread and sausage - in a word, we live well. This hasn’t happened to us for a long time: our kitchen god with his crimson, like a tomato, bald head himself offers us more food; he waves the ladle, inviting passers-by, and pours out hefty portions to them. He still won’t empty his “squeaker,” and this drives him into despair. Tjaden and Müller obtained several basins from somewhere and filled them to the brim - in reserve. Tjaden did it out of gluttony, Müller out of caution. Where everything that Tjaden eats goes is a mystery to all of us. He still remains as skinny as a herring.

But, strictly speaking, we are not entitled to all this at all. The management is not capable of such generosity. We were just lucky.

When the first of us began to crawl out of the barracks, it was already midday. Half an hour later, we grabbed our pots and gathered at the “squeaker” dear to our hearts, which smelled of something rich and tasty. Of course, the first in line were those who always had the biggest appetite: short Albert Kropp, the brightest head in our company and, probably for this reason, only recently promoted to corporal; Muller the Fifth, who still carries textbooks with him and dreams of passing preferential exams; under hurricane fire he crams the laws of physics; Leer, who wears a full beard and has a weakness for girls from brothels for officers; he swears that there is an army order obliging these girls to wear silk underwear, and to take a bath before receiving visitors with the rank of captain and above; the fourth is me, Paul Bäumer. All four were nineteen years old, all four went to the front from the same class.

Immediately behind us are our friends: Tjaden, a mechanic, a frail young man of the same age as us, the most gluttonous soldier in the company - for food he sits thin and slender, and after eating, he stands up pot-bellied, like a sucked bug; Haye Westhus, also our age, a peat worker who can freely take a loaf of bread in his hand and ask: “Well, guess what’s in my fist?”; Detering, a peasant who thinks only about his farm and his wife; and, finally, Stanislav Katchinsky, the soul of our squad, a man with character, smart and cunning - he is forty years old, he has a sallow face, blue eyes, sloping shoulders, and an extraordinary sense of smell about when the shelling will begin, where he can get hold of food and What's the best way to hide from your boss?

“War spares no one.” This is true. Whether it is a defender or an aggressor, a soldier or a civilian, no one, looking into the face of death, will remain the same. No one is prepared for the horrors of war. Perhaps this is what Erich Remarque, the author of the work “All Quiet on the Western Front,” wanted to say.

History of the novel

There was a lot of controversy surrounding this work. Therefore, it would be correct to start with the history of the birth of the novel before presenting a summary. “All Quiet on the Western Front” Erich Maria Remarque wrote as a participant in those terrible events.

He went to the front in the early summer of 1917. Remarque spent several weeks on the front line, was wounded in August and remained in the hospital until the end of the war. But all the time he corresponded with his friend Georg Middendorf, who remained in position.

Remarque asked to report in as much detail as possible about life at the front and did not hide the fact that he wanted to write a book about the war. The summary begins with these events (“All Quiet on the Western Front”). Fragments of the novel contain a cruel but real picture of the terrible trials that befell the soldiers.

The war ended, but the lives of none of them returned to their previous course.

The company is resting

In the first chapter, the author shows the real life of soldiers - unheroic, terrifying. He emphasizes the extent to which the cruelty of war changes people - moral principles are lost, values are lost. This is the generation that was destroyed by the war, even those who escaped the shells. The novel “All Quiet on the Western Front” begins with these words.

Rested soldiers go to breakfast. The cook prepared food for the entire company - 150 people. They want to take extra helpings of their fallen comrades. The main concern of the cook is not to give out anything beyond the norm. And only after a heated argument and the intervention of the company commander does the cook distribute all the food.

Kemmerich, one of Paul's classmates, was hospitalized with a thigh wound. The friends go to the infirmary, where they are informed that the guy’s leg has been amputated. Muller, seeing his strong English boots, argues that a one-legged man does not need them. The wounded man writhes in unbearable pain, and, in exchange for cigarettes, his friends persuade one of the orderlies to give their friend an injection of morphine. They left there with heavy hearts.

Kantorek, their teacher who persuaded them to join the army, sent them a pompous letter. He calls them “iron youth.” But the guys are no longer touched by words about patriotism. They unanimously accuse the class teacher of exposing them to the horrors of war. This is how the first chapter ends. Its summary. “All Quiet on the Western Front” reveals chapter by chapter the characters, feelings, aspirations, and dreams of these young guys who find themselves face to face with the war.

Death of a friend

Paul recalls his life before the war. As a student, he wrote poetry. Now he feels empty and cynical. All this seems so far away to him. Pre-war life is a vague, unrealistic dream that has no relation to the world created by the war. Paul feels completely cut off from humanity.

At school they were taught that patriotism requires the suppression of individuality and personality. Paul's platoon was trained by Himmelstoss. The former postman was a small, stocky man who tirelessly humiliated his recruits. Paul and his friends hated Himmelstoss. But Paul now knows that those humiliations and discipline toughened them up and probably helped them survive.

Kemmerich is close to death. He is saddened by the fact that he will never become the chief forester, as he dreamed. Paul sits next to his friend, comforting him and assuring him that he will get better and return home. Kemmerich says he is giving his boots to Müller. He becomes ill, and Paul goes to look for a doctor. When he returns, his friend is already dead. The body is immediately removed from the bed to make room.

It would seem that the summary of the second chapter ended with what cynical words. “All Quiet on the Western Front,” from chapter 4 of the novel, will reveal the true essence of the war. Once you come into contact with it, a person will not remain the same. War hardens, makes you indifferent - to orders, to blood, to death. She will never leave a person, but will always be with him - in memory, in body, in soul.

Young replenishment

A group of recruits arrives at the company. They are a year younger than Paul and his friends, which makes them feel like grizzled veterans. There is not enough food and blankets. Paul and his friends remember the barracks where they were recruits with longing. Himmelstoss's humiliations seem idyllic compared to real war. The guys remember the drill in the barracks and discuss the war.

Tjaden arrives and excitedly reports that Himmelstoss has arrived at the front. They remember his bullying and decide to take revenge on him. One night, as he was returning from the pub, they threw bedclothes over his head, took off his trousers and beat him with a whip, muffling his screams with a pillow. They retreated so quickly that Himmelstoss never found out who his offenders were.

Night shelling

The company is sent at night to the front line for sapper work. Paul reflects that for a soldier the land takes on a new meaning at the front: it saves him. Here ancient animal instincts awaken, which save many people if you obey them without hesitation. At the front, the instinct of the beast awakens in men, Paul argues. He understands how much a person degrades, surviving in inhuman conditions. This is clearly evident from the summary of “All Quiet on the Western Front.”

Chapter 4 will shed light on what it was like for young, unexamined boys to find themselves at the front. During the shelling, a recruit lies next to Paul, clinging to him, as if seeking protection. When the shots died down a little, he admitted with horror that he had defecated in his pants. Paul explains to the boy that many soldiers face this problem. You can hear the painful neighing of wounded horses struggling in agony. The soldiers finish them off, saving them from suffering.

The shelling begins with renewed vigor. Paul crawled out of his hiding place and saw that the same boy who was clinging to him out of fear was seriously wounded.

Terrifying reality

The fifth chapter begins with a description of the unsanitary living conditions at the front. The soldiers sit, stripped to the waist, crushing lice and discussing what they will do after the war. They calculated that out of twenty people from their class, only twelve remained. Seven are dead, four are wounded, and one has gone mad. They mockingly repeat the questions that Kantorek asked them at school. Paul has no idea what he will do after the war. Kropp concludes that the war has destroyed everything. They cannot believe in anything other than war.

The fighting continues

The company is sent to the front line. Their path lies through the school, along the facade of which there are brand new coffins. Hundreds of coffins. The soldiers joke about this. But on the front line it turns out that the enemy has received reinforcements. Everyone is in a depressed mood. Night and day pass in tense anticipation. They sit in trenches where disgusting fat rats scurry about.

The soldier has no choice but to wait. Days pass before the earth begins to shake with explosions. Almost nothing remained of their trench. Trial by fire is too much of a shock for new recruits. One of them became furious and tried to escape. Apparently he's gone crazy. The soldiers tie him up, but the other recruit manages to escape.

Another night has passed. Suddenly the nearby explosions stop. The enemy begins to attack. German soldiers repulse the attack and reach enemy positions. All around are the screams and groans of the wounded, mutilated corpses. Paul and his comrades need to return. But before doing this, they greedily grab cans of stew and note that the enemy has much better conditions than them.

Paul reminisces about the past. These memories hurt. Suddenly the fire fell on their positions with renewed force. Chemical attacks claim the lives of many. They die a painful, slow death from suffocation. Everyone runs out of their hiding places. But Himmelstoss hides in a trench and pretends to be wounded. Paul tries to drive him out with blows and threats.

There are explosions all around, and it seems that the whole earth is bleeding. New soldiers are brought in to replace them. The commander calls their company to the vehicles. The roll call begins. Of the 150 people, thirty-two remained.

After reading the summary of “All Quiet on the Western Front,” we see that the company twice suffers huge losses. The heroes of the novel return to duty. But the worst thing is another war. War against degradation, against stupidity. War with yourself. But here victory is not always on your side.

Paul goes home

The company is sent to the rear, where it will be reorganized. Having experienced horror before the battles, Himmelstoss tries to “rehabilitate himself” - he gets good food for the soldiers and an easy job. Away from the trenches they try to joke. But the humor becomes too bitter and dark.

Paul gets seventeen days of vacation. In six weeks he must report to the training unit, and then to the front. He wonders how many of his friends will survive during this time. Paul arrives in his hometown and sees that the civilian population is starving. He learns from his sister that his mother has cancer. Relatives ask Paul how things are going at the front. But he doesn't have enough words to describe all this horror.

Paul sits in his bedroom with his books and paintings, trying to bring back his childhood feelings and desires, but the memories are only shadows. His identity as a soldier is the only thing he has now. The end of the holiday approaches, and Paul visits the mother of Kemmerich's deceased friend. She wants to know how he died. Paul lies to her that her son died without suffering or pain.

Mother sits with Paul in the bedroom all last night. He pretends to be asleep, but notices that his mother is in severe pain. He makes her go to bed. Paul returns to his room, and from the surge of feelings, from hopelessness, he squeezes the iron bars of the bed and thinks that it would be better if he had not come. It only got worse. Sheer pain - from pity for her mother, for herself, from the realization that there is no end to this horror.

Camp with prisoners of war

Paul arrives at the training unit. There is a prisoner of war camp next to their barracks. Russian prisoners stealthily walk around their barracks and rummage through waste bins. Paul cannot understand what they find there. They are starving, but Paul notes that the prisoners treat each other like brothers. They are in such a pitiful situation that Paul has no reason to hate them.

Prisoners are dying every day. Russians bury several people at a time. Paul sees the terrible conditions they are in, but pushes away thoughts of pity so as not to lose his composure. He shares cigarettes with prisoners. One of them found out that Paul played the piano and began to play the violin. She sounds thin and lonely, and this makes her even more sad.

Return to duty

Paul arrives at the location and finds his friends alive and unharmed. He shares with them the food he brought. While waiting for the Kaiser to arrive, the soldiers are tortured with drills and work. They were given new clothes, which were immediately taken away after his departure.

Paul volunteers to gather information about enemy forces. The area is being shelled with machine guns. A flare flashes above Paul, and he realizes that he must lie still. Footsteps were heard, and someone's heavy body fell on him. Paul reacts with lightning speed - strikes with a dagger.

Paul cannot watch the enemy he wounded die. He crawls over to him, bandages his wounds and gives water to their flasks. A few hours later he dies. Paul finds letters in his wallet, a photo of a woman and a little girl. From the documents, he guessed that it was a French soldier.

Paul talks to the dead soldier and explains that he did not want to kill him. Every word he reads plunges Paul into a feeling of guilt and pain. He rewrites the address and decides to send money to his family. Paul promises that if he remains alive, he will do everything to ensure that this never happens again.

Three weeks feast

Paul and his friends guard a food warehouse in an abandoned village. They decided to use this time with pleasure. They covered the floor in the dugout with mattresses from abandoned houses. We got eggs and fresh butter. They caught two piglets that miraculously survived. Potatoes, carrots, and young peas were found in the fields. And they arranged a feast for themselves.

A well-fed life lasted three weeks. After which they were evacuated to a neighboring village. The enemy began shelling, Kropp and Paul were wounded. They are picked up by an ambulance, which is full of wounded. They are operated on in the infirmary and sent by train to the hospital.

One of the nurses had difficulty persuading Paul to lie down on the snow-white sheets. He is not yet ready to return to the fold of civilization. Dirty clothes and lice make him feel uncomfortable here. Classmates are sent to a Catholic hospital.

Soldiers die in hospital every day. Kropp's entire leg is amputated. He says he will shoot himself. Paul thinks that the hospital is the best place to learn what war is like. He wonders what awaits his generation after the war.

Paul receives leave to recover at home. Leaving for the front and parting with your mother is even more difficult than the first time. She is even weaker than before. This is the summary of the tenth chapter. “All Quiet on the Western Front” is a story that covers not only military operations, but also the behavior of heroes on the battlefield.

The novel reveals how, facing death and cruelty every day, Paul begins to feel uncomfortable in peaceful life. He rushes about, trying to find peace of mind at home, next to his family. But nothing comes of it. Deep down, he understands that he will never find him again.

Terrible losses

The war rages, but the German army is noticeably weakening. Paul stopped counting the days and weeks that went by in battle. The pre-war years are “no longer valid” because they have ceased to mean anything. The life of a soldier is a constant avoidance of death. They reduce you to the level of mindless animals, because instinct is the best weapon against an inexorable mortal danger. This helps them survive.

Spring. The food is bad. The soldiers were emaciated and hungry. Detering brought a cherry blossom branch and remembered the house. He soon deserts. They caught him and caught him. No one heard anything more about him.

Muller is killed. Leer was wounded in the thigh and is bleeding. Berting was wounded in the chest, Kat - in the shin. Paul drags the wounded Kat on himself, they talk. Exhausted, Paul stops. The orderlies come up and say that Kat is dead. Paul did not notice that his comrade was wounded in the head. Paul doesn't remember anything else.

Defeat is inevitable

Autumn. 1918 Paul is the only one of his classmates who survived. Bloody battles continue. The United States joins the enemy. Everyone understands that Germany's defeat is inevitable.

After being gassed, Paul rests for two weeks. He sits under a tree and imagines how he will return home. He gets scared. He thinks that they will all return as living corpses. Shells of people, empty inside, tired, lost hope. Paul finds this thought hard to bear. He feels that his own life has been irrevocably destroyed.

Paul was killed in October. On an unusually quiet peaceful day. When he was turned over, his face was calm, as if to say that he was glad that everything ended this way. At this time, a report was transmitted from the front line: “No change on the Western Front.”

The meaning of the novel

The First World War made adjustments to world politics, became a catalyst for revolution and the collapse of empires. These changes affected everyone's lives. About war, suffering, friendship - this is exactly what the author wanted to say. This is clearly shown in the summary.

Remarque wrote “All Quiet on the Western Front” in 1929. The subsequent World Wars were bloodier and more brutal. Therefore, the theme raised by Remarque in the novel was continued in his subsequent books and in the works of other writers.

Undoubtedly, this novel is a grandiose event in the arena of world literature of the 20th century. This work not only sparked debate about its literary merits, but also caused enormous political resonance.

The novel is one of the hundred must-read books. The work requires not only an emotional attitude, but also a philosophical one. This is evidenced by the style and manner of narration, the author’s style and summary. “All Quiet on the Western Front,” as some sources testify, is second only to the Bible in terms of circulation and readability.