Читать книгу All Quiet on the Western Front - Erich Maria Remarque - Страница 34

it is pitch dark. an uncertain red glow spreads along the skyline from one end to the other.

french rockets go up. they light up everything as bright as day with green, red and blue stars.

at regular intervals we ram in the iron stakes, and others spool off the barbed wire. I am not used to unrolling it and tear my hand.

after a few hours it is done, but there is still some time before the lorries come. most of us lie down and sleep.

I try, but it has turned out too chilly. I wake up from a deep sleep with a start, and don’t know where I am. am I crying? am I a child?

then I recognize the silhouette of katczinsky, the old veteran.

...mighty fine fireworks if they weren’t so dan-gerous.

that gave you a fright. it was only a nose-cap. it landed in the bushes over there...

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