In private conversation in the canteen Diederich confided in his superiors that military life filled him with enthusiasm. "To be swallowed up in a great init," he would say. He would ask for nothing better In the world than to stay in the army. He was sincere, but that did not prevent him, when they were exercising in the parade ground that afternoon, from having no other wish than to he down in his grave and die. The uniform which was cut to fit closely, for reasons of smartness, became a real instrument of torture after eating. It was no consolation that the captain appeared unspeakably warlike and daring as he gave his commands from his horse, when one could feel the undigested soup slopping about in one's stomach as one ran around breathlessly. The enthusiasm which Diederich was fully prepared to feel was tempered by his personal hardships. His foot was aching again, and Diederich waited for the pain in the anxious hope, mixed with self-contempt, that it would get worse, so bad that he could not go route marching again. Perhaps he might not even have to exercise any more in the barrack square, and they would have to give him his discharge.
Things came to the point where he called one Sunday on the father of one of his college friends, who was an advisory member of the Medical Council. Red with shame Diederich confessed that he had come to ask for his support. He loved the army, the whole system, and would gladly follow that career. He would be part of a great mechanism, an element in its strength, so to speak, and would always know what he had to do, which was a delightful feeling. But now his foot was paining him. "I can't let it go so far until it is useless. After all, I have to support my mother and sisters." The doctor examined him. "The Neo-Teutons for ever." said he. "It so happens your surgeon-major is a friend of mine." That fact was known to Diederich through his friend. He took his leave full of anxious hope.
The effect of this hope was that he could hardly stand the next morning. He reported sick. "Who are you? and why do you bother me?"—And the medical officer looked him over. "You look as fit as a fiddle and your waist line has diminished." But Diederich stood to attention and remained sick. The officer in charge had to come and make an examination. When the foot was uncovered the latter declared that if he did not light a cigar he would be ill. Still, he could find nothing wrong with the foot. The doctor pushed him impatiently from the chair. "Fit for duty, that's all, dismissed"—and Diederich was released. In the middle of drill he gave a sudden cry and collapsed. He was taken into the sick ward for slight cases where there was nothing to eat and a powerful smell of humanity. In this place it was difficult for the volunteers to procure their own food, and he got none of the other men's rations. Driven by hunger he reported himself cured. Cut off from all human protection, and from all the social privileges of civil life, he wore a gloomy look. But one morning, when he had lost all hope, he was called away from drill to the room of the surgeon-major-general. This important official wished to examine him. He spoke in an embarrassing, human kind of way, and then broke again into military gruffness which was not any more calculated to put one at one's ease. He too seemed to find nothing definite, but the result of his examination sounded somewhat different. Diederich was only to carry on "temporarily" until further notice. "With a foot like that…"
A few days later a hospital orderly came to Diederich and took an impression of this fateful foot on black paper. Diederich was ordered to wait in the consulting-room. The surgeonmajor happened to be passing and took the opportunity to express his complete contempt. "The foot is not even flat! all it wants is to be washed!" Just then the door was pushed open and the surgeon-major-general made his entry with his cap on his head. His step was firmer and surer than usual, he looked neither to the right nor to the left, stood silently in front of his subordinate, and glared gloomily and severely at his cap. The latter was embarrassed. He obviously found himself in a position which did not permit the usual comradeship of colleagues. But he realised the situation, took off his cap and stood at attention. His superior then showed him the paper with the tracing of Diederich's foot, spoke to him in a low tone but with an emphasis which commanded him to see something that was not there. The surgeon-major blinked alternately at his commanding officer, at Diederich and at the paper. Then he clicked his heels; he had seen what he was ordered to see.
When the major-general had gone, the major approached Diederich. With a slight smile of understanding he said politely:
"Of course, the case was clear from the beginning. Because of the men we had to … you understand, discipline.…"
Diederich stood at attention as a sign that he understood.
"But," continued the major, "I need hardly say I knew how your case stood."
Diederich thought: "If you didn't know it before you know it now." Aloud he said: "I trust you will pardon me for asking, sir, but shall I not be allowed to continue my service?"
"I cannot guarantee that," said the doctor, turning away.
From that time on Diederich was relieved of heavy duty. He went for no more route marches. His conduct in barracks was all the more friendly and willing. At roll-call in the evening the captain came from the mess, with a cigar in his mouth and slightly tipsy, to confine to cells those who had wiped their boots instead of polishing them. He never found fault with Diederich. On the other hand, he vented his righteous wrath all the more severely on a volunteer who, now in his third month, had to sleep in the men's dormitory as a punishment because he had not slept there, but at home, during his first fortnight's service. He had had at the time fourteen degrees of fever and would probably have died if he had done his duty. Well, let him die! The captain's face assumed an expression of proud satisfaction every time he looked at this volunteer. Standing in the background, small and unnoticed, Diederich thought: "You see, my boy, the Neo-Teutons and an Advisory Member of the Medical Council are more useful than fourteen degrees of fever. …" As far as he was concerned the official formalities were one day happily fulfilled, and Sergeant Vanselow informed him that he had received his release. Diederich's eyes at once filled with tears and he shook his hand warmly.
"Just my luck for a thing like that to happen to me, and I had"—he sobbed—"such a happy time."
Then he found himself outside in the street.
He remained at home four whole weeks and studied hard. When he went out to meals he looked round anxiously lest an acquaintance should see him. Finally he felt he would have to show himself to the Neo-Teutons. He assumed a challenging attitude.
"Until you have been in the army you have no idea what it's like. There, I can tell you, you see the world from a very different standpoint. I would have stayed altogether, my qualifications were so excellent that my superior officers advised me to do so. But then"—here he stared moodily in front of him—"came the accident with the horse. That is the result of being too good a soldier. The captain used to get some one to drive in his dog-cart to exercise the horse, and that is how the accident happened. Of course I did not nurse my foot properly and resumed duty too soon. The thing got very much worse, and the doctor advised me to prepare my relatives for the worst."—The words came sharply and with manly restraint.—"You should have seen the captain; he came to see me himself every day, after the long marches, just as he was, with his uniform covered with dust. During those days of suffering we became real comrades. Here, I still have one of his cigars. When he had to confess that the doctor had decided to send me away, I assure you it was one of those moments in a man's life which he can never forget. Both the captain and I had tears in our eyes." The whole company was deeply moved. Diederich looked bravely around at them.
"Well, now I suppose I must try and find my way back into civilian life. Your health."
He continued to cram and on Saturdays he drank with the Neo-Teutons. Wiebel also turned up. He had become an assistant judge, on the way to becoming a state's attorney, and could only talk of "subversive tendencies," "enemies of the fatherland" and "Christian socialist ideas." He explained to the freshmen that the time had come to take politics seriously. He knew it was considered vulgar, but their opponents made it necessary. Real feudal aristocrats, like his friend, von Barnim, were in the movement. Herr von Barnim would shortly honour the Neo-Teutons with his company.
When he came he won all hearts, for he treated them as equals. He had dark, closely cropped hair, the manner of a conscientious bureaucrat, and spoke in matter-of-fact