Chapter 29 Visit Cement - or Mysterious, Savage, Boring

For three weeks we performed night after night in the historic bullet-proof shelter of Metz, a city founded by the Romans and later housed by the Guards.We did the same show in Nancy for two weeks.Chalon-sur-Marne received us with hospitality for a week.Oscar's tongue could already spit out a few French words.In Reims, you can also see the devastation caused by the First World War.The stone animals of the world famous cathedral, annoyingly and endlessly spraying water onto the paving stones.The meaning of this sentence is: It rains every day in Reims, and it rains at night.However, in Paris, we encountered a bright and warm September.I could spend my nineteenth birthday strolling along the pier with Roswithal on my arm.Although I had seen this metropolis on postcards from Petty Officer Fritz Truczynski, Paris did not disappoint me at all.Roswitha and I stood under the Eiffel Tower for the first time, we—I am ninety-four centimeters tall, she is ninety-nine centimeters—looking up, the two of us, arm in arm, conscious for the first time To our greatness and uniqueness.We kiss in the street, but that's not new in Paris.How wonderful it is to communicate with art and history!I, always on Roswithal's arm, visited the Church of the Wounded Soldiers, and I spoke in Napoleon's language in memory of the great but not very tall Emperor, who was therefore of our own kind.At the tomb of the second Friedrich (who was not a giant either), Napoleon said: "If he had lived, we would not be standing here!" Whispering softly: "If this Corsican had lived, we wouldn't be standing here, we wouldn't be kissing under bridges, on the docks, on the sidewalks of Paris."

-------- ① Refers to Friedrich II (1712~1786), King of Prussia, also translated as Frederick the Great. We performed with other troupes at Prior Hall and the Sarah Bernhardt Theatre.Quickly acclimatizing to the big-city scene, Oskar refined his repertoire to suit the fastidious tastes of the occupying forces in Paris.No longer do I sing of breaking common, vulgar German beer bottles, no, I sing of the gracefully curved vases and fruit bowls picked out from the palaces of France and blown into mist.My programs are grounded in scientific theories arranged from a cultural-historical perspective.The symbolic unit of the system is a characteristic of human thinking. Its application, starting from the glass cups of the Louis XIV era, turned the glass products of the Louis XV era into glass dust.I thought of the Revolutionary era, with violent emotion, the goblets of the unfortunate Louis XVI and his beheaded Marie Antoinette.I ruined a little more Louis-Philippe stuff, and ended up fighting a juvenile glass fantasy of the Third Republic.

Although the army-gray masses in the front row of the main hall and on each floor did not understand that my performance was arranged according to the historical process, they regarded the glass shards as ordinary glass shards and applauded. However, occasionally there were officers from the Imperial General Staff And journalists, who appreciate my sense of history in addition to shards of glass.After an official show for commanders, we were introduced to an academic in uniform who complimented my art.I am especially indebted to the correspondent of one of the leading daily newspapers of the Empire, who is now in this city on the Seine, and who is worthy of being an expert on France.He hinted that I was aware of some small errors in my program, but not stylistic flaws.We spend the winter in Paris.We were invited to stay in a first-class hotel, and I didn't want to keep quiet about it. Roswitha by my side had tested and confirmed the advantages of the French bed throughout the long winter.Is Oscar happy in Paris?Has he forgotten his hometown lover Maria, Matzerath, Gretchen and Alexander Scheffler, his son Kurt and his grandmother Anna Koljacek?

I haven't forgotten them, but I don't miss any of them either.So instead of sending home military postcards and giving them any sign that I'm alive, I'm offering them the opportunity to live without me for a year; What is interesting is how the relationship between the family group has been adjusted in my absence.On the street, during performances, I also sometimes look for familiar features on the faces of soldiers.Perhaps Fritz Truczynski or Axel Mischke had been transferred to Paris from the Eastern Front, Oskar thought, and once or twice he thought he recognized Maria's handsome brother among a group of foot soldiers, Actually not, army gray confuses people!

Only the Eiffel Tower makes nostalgia germinate in my heart.This is not to say that I have climbed up this iron tower and looked out into the distance to arouse longing for home.In his imagination, Oscar often climbed the tower printed on the postcard. If he really climbed up, the natural rights would sign a contract and form a country.Rousseau thinks that the nation comes into being, and that can only make me feel like climbing down a tower in disappointment.At the foot of the Eiffel Tower, there is no Rosewither, I am alone, standing or squatting under the curved pedestal of this metal structure, this closed vault that allows me to see around, but closed, But it became the hood that my grandmother Anna could hide everything.When I sat under the Eiffel Tower, I sat under my grandmother's four skirts, the training ground became Kashube's potato field, and an October rain in Paris slanted tirelessly to Bissau and Between Ramkao.On days like this, I smell all of Paris, including the Underground, a slightly hazy buttery smell.I became taciturn and brooding all the time, and Roswitha was attentive to me, and she noticed my pain because she was the sensitive type.

In April 1944—news of the successful shortening of the front came from all the fronts—we were ordered to pack our actors' bags, leave Paris, and go to the Atlantic Wall to condolences.Bebra's frontline troupe begins its tour in Le Havre.I think Bebra is taciturn and in a trance.Although he never made a mistake in his performance and entertained the audience as always, his old Narcesian face became glazed as soon as the curtain fell.At first, I saw him as a jealous man, and what was worse, I even saw him as a general defeated by my youthful strength.Roswitha told me in a low voice that my judgment was wrong; but she didn't know the details, she only said that several officers came to Bebra after the performance and closed the door to talk in secret.It seems that this master wants to give up his inner exile and is planning some specific action. It seems that the blood of his ancestor Prince Eugene has the upper hand in him again.Bebra's various plots alienated him from us and implicated him in a wide range of relationships.Oskar's relationship with Roswitha, who had once been his, could only induce a weary smile on his wrinkled face.When he—it was in Trouville, we were staying at the Hotel de la Retreat—intruded into the dressing room we shared and saw us huddled on the carpet, he waved his hand as a sign that he didn't mind.We were trying to get rid of each other, but he said to the vanity mirror: "Have fun, children, kiss, tomorrow we will visit cement, and the day after tomorrow cement powder will rustle between your lips, and it will spoil your interest in kissing." of!"

This was in June, 1944.In the meantime, we traveled all the way from Vizcaya to the Atlantic Wall in Holland.But we were mostly in the hinterland, and we didn't see much of those legendary bunkers. It was only in Trouville that we performed on the coast for the first time.We were suggested to visit the Atlantic Wall.Bebra accepted.Last show at Trouville.At night, we came to the small village of Bavin, four kilometers behind the coastal dunes in front of Caen.They arranged for us to spend the night at a farmer's house.Lots of grass, bushes, apple trees.An cider schnapps called Calvado is brewed here.We tasted it and slept soundly afterwards.Cool air came in through the windows, and the frogs in the pond croaked until dawn.There are frogs that can beat drums.I fell asleep listening to their drums and reminded myself: It's time for you to go home, Oscar, soon your son Kurt will be three years old, you must give him a drum, which you promised to give him ah!Oskar, the tormented father, told himself this hour after hour.When he woke up, he touched his side and confirmed that his Laguna lay there, and he smelled her: Laguna had a light scent of cinnamon, crushed cloves and nutmeg; before Christmas Eve, She smelled like roasted spices, and that smell lasted well into the summer.

Early in the morning, an armored vehicle drove up to the farmhouse.At the gate of the courtyard, we all felt a bit chilly.Early in the morning, cool, against the wind blowing from the sea is a universal spirit that is Absolute.It is thought as well as purpose and will, and we chatted for a while.Get in: Bebra, Laguna, Felix and Kitty, Oskar and that Lieutenant Herzog, who's coming to take us to his artillery battery west of Kaburg. When I say Normandy is green, I mean to avoid talking about the white and white cattle.They chew cud on the dew-drenched, misty meadows to the left and right of the straight road, indifferent to our armored vehicles, the decks of which would have turned out of shame had they not been painted with a protective paint. into red.Poplars, hedgerows, creeping bushes, the first big, stupid seaside hotels were empty, their shutters rattling in the wind.The armored vehicle turned into the avenue, and we got out of the vehicle and hurriedly followed the lieutenant—who showed a little exaggerated respect to Captain Bebra—behind, across the dunes, facing a sea breeze that carried sand and the sound of the waves.

This is not the gentle Baltic, bottle-green, sobbing like a girl, waiting for me.The Atlantic is practicing its old trick: charge when the tide rises, retreat when the tide falls. Next, we see it, cement.We can watch it, touch it, and it remains motionless. "Attention!" Someone inside the cement shouted Chinese philosophical terms. ① refers to destiny. "Poetry Zhou Song": "Haotian has a destiny." Then a person as tall as a tree jumped out of the bunker.The bunker, shaped like a flatback turtle, was set between two sand dunes called Daura Seven, and watched the ebb and flow of the tide, using embrasure holes, observation slots, and exposed small-bore gun barrels as eyes.The man who got out was Sergeant Lankers, and he reported to Lieutenant Herzog and our Captain Bebra.

Lankers: (salute) Daura Seven, a sergeant, and four soldiers.There are no special circumstances! Herzog: Thank you!Please rest easy, Sergeant Lankers. —You heard me, Mr. Captain, there are no special circumstances.This has been the case for many years. Bebra: There is always ebb and flow!A show of nature! Herzog: That's what keeps our troops busy.It is for this reason that we build bunkers one by one.We are within range of each other.We had to blow up some bunkers to make room for new concrete. Bebra: (knocking on the cement, his front-line theater troupe members also knocking on the cement with him) Does Mr. Lieutenant believe in cement?

Herzog: "Believe" may not be the right word.We don't believe in almost anything here anymore.What do you say, Lankers? Lankers: Yes, Mr. Lieutenant, I don't believe in anything anymore. Bebra: But they are stirring and tamping. Herzog: I have complete confidence in you, Captain.To tell you the truth, we are also gaining experience.I didn't know anything about architecture before, and when I was in college, I started fighting.I hope that the knowledge I have now gained in cement processing will come in handy after the war.At home, everything had to be rebuilt. ——Come closer and take a closer look at the cement. (Bebra and his team stick their noses to the cement.) See what?shell!There are everywhere in front of the door.Just take it and mix it in.Stones, shells, sand, cement... I don't need to say anything more, Mr. Captain.You're an artist and an actor, and you'll see for yourself what's going on.Lankers!Tell Mr. Captain we rammed something into the bunker. Lankers: Yes, Mr. Lieutenant!Tell Mr. Captain we rammed something into the bunker.We sealed the puppies under concrete, and there was a puppy buried in the foundation of every bunker. Bebra's members: a puppy! Lankers: Soon there wasn't even a puppy left in the stretch from Caen to Le Havre. Bebra's team members: Not even a puppy! Lankers: That's how we work hard. Bellab's team members: Such a hard work! Lankers: I have to catch the kitten soon. Bebra's team members: Meow! Lankers: But cats are not the same as puppies.So we want to start doing that right away here. Bebra's members: a grand show! (They applaud.) Lankers: We rehearse enough.If the puppy catches all... Bebra's team members: Ah! Lankers: ...we can no longer build bunkers.Because cats mean bad luck. Bebra's team members: Meow, meow! Lankers: If Mr. Captain would like to hear a little bit about why we buried puppies... Bebra's team members: Puppy! Lankers: All I can say is: I don't believe this. Bebra's team members: Bah! Lankers: However, most of the partners here are from rural areas.In the countryside, this is still the case today: when you build a house, a storehouse, or a village church, you always have to bury something alive, and... Herzog: Enough, Lankers.Please rest easy.You have heard, Mr. Captain, that on the lines of the Atlantic Wall there is so-called superstition.It's exactly the same as in your theatre, no one is allowed to whistle before the first performance, and the actors spit on each other's shoulders before the show begins... Bebra's team members: Bah, bah, bah! (Spit on each other's shoulders.) Herzog: Don't be kidding!We have to keep the soldiers happy.Recently, they also changed their tricks, installing shell mosaics and cement decorative patterns at the exit of the bunker, following the orders of the highest authorities, and tolerated this matter.Soldiers always have something to do.My boss got a headache when he saw these cement curves, so I said to him: Mr. Major, cement curves are better than mental curves.We Germans are amateur craftsmen.You can't deny this! Bebra: Let the troops at the Atlantic Wall relax, aren't we also working for it now... Bebra's troupe: Bebra's frontline theater troupe will sing for you, perform for you, and help you win the final victory! Herzog: You and your regiment have seen it.However, the troupe alone is not enough.For the most part we still have to rely on ourselves and try to help ourselves as best we can.Lankers, what do you say? Lankers: Yes, Mr. Lieutenant, do your best to help yourself! Herzog: You see, that's how it is! —Excuse me, Mr. Captain!I still have to go to Daura 4 and Daura 5.You can slowly visit this cement bar, Qizhong has its own famous hall.Lanx will let you see everything... Lankers: See everything, Mr. Lieutenant! (Herzog and Bebra salute. Herzog exits from the right. So far Laguna, Oscar, Felix and Kitty who were staying behind Bebra jumped out Come.Oscar with his tin drum, Laguna with a food basket, Philly Kex and Kitty climbed to the concrete roof of the bunker and began doing acrobatics there. Oscar and Roswitha were playing in the sand next to the bunker with a bucket and spade, Shows that they are in love with each other, and cheers and teases Felix and Kitty. ) Bebra: (Looking at the bunker comprehensively, lazily) Please tell me, Sergeant Lanx, what was your original occupation? Lankers: Painter ①, Mr. Captain, but this was a long time ago. -------- ①The term "painter" in German refers to both painters, plasterers, and art painters.Hereinafter, "a craftsman who paints a plane" refers to a painter or a plasterer. Bebra: You said that you are a craftsman who paints planes. Lankers: I also paint planes, Mr. Captain, but it is more of an art painting. Bebra: Listen, listen!That is to say, you try to follow in the footsteps of Rembrandt, and maybe Velázquez? Lankers: Something in between. Bebra: My God!Do you need to mix cement, tamp cement, guard cement here? — You should have participated in the campaign.War Painter is exactly what we need! Lankers: I'm no expert on this, Mr. Captain.I drew too obliquely for today's taste. —Mr. Captain, can I give the sergeant a cigarette? (Bebra hands him a cigarette.) Bebra: Do you mean that the tilt is new? Lankers: What do you mean by fashion?Tilting was new for a long time before they arrived with cement. Bebra: Is that so? Lankers: Yes. Bebra: You apply the paint thick and thick, even with a spatula? Lankers: I also draw like this.I rubbed it with my thumb, fully automated, and stuck nails and buttons in the middle, and for a while before 1933, I stuck barbed wire to cinnabar and got good press.They still hang in the home of a private Swiss collector, a soap factory owner. Bebra: This war, this terrible war!You're tamping cement today!To rent out your talents for building fortifications!Naturally, Leonardo and Michelangelo did the same thing in their day.When no one commissioned them to paint a Madonna, they designed armaments and built castles. -------- ① Refers to Leonardo da Vinci, a master of the Renaissance era. Lankers: You are right!There is always a vacancy somewhere.A true artist always has to express himself.If Mr. Captain will look at the decorations above the entrance to the bunker, they are here before us. Bebra: (After doing a thorough research) It's amazing!What a rich form!What a rigorous expression! Lankers: You can call this style the structural layer. Bebra: Does your work, this relief or painting, have a title? Lankers: I just said: the structural layer, in my opinion, is also called the inclined structural layer.This is a new style.No one has done it before. Bebra: However, because you are the creator, you should give this work an unambiguous title... Lankers: Title, what's the use of the title?Titles are only required if art exhibitions are being held and cataloged. Bebra: You are too modest, Lankers.Stop thinking of me as a captain and as a friend of art.Want cigarettes? (Ranks takes one.) What do you think? Lankers: That would be great if you said so. — Lankers thought about it this way: when the war is over.Once the war was over—in one way or another—the bunker remained, as there always was a bunker, even if everything else was destroyed.Then, that time came!I mean, those centuries are coming—(He pockets the cigarette.) Can you have another cigarette, Mr. Captain?thanks! —the centuries come and go like nothing happened.But the bunker remains, just as the pyramids always remain.Then, one fine day, a so-called archaeologist came and thought to himself: What an art-poor era was then, between the First and the Seventh World Wars!Dead gray cement, now and then amateurish, clumsy, rustic curves visible above the bunker entrance—then he bumps into my Dowra Four, Dowra Five, Dowra Number Six, Daura Seven, looked at my slanted structure and said to himself: Look carefully.really interesting.Magical, aggressive, yet oozing with intelligence, I would almost say.Here a genius, perhaps the only genius of the twentieth century, expresses himself, clearly and for all generations. ——Does this work also have a surname?Will there be a signature that reveals to us who the master is? ——Mr. Captain, if you look carefully and tilt your head, you will be able to see that between the rough sloping layers of the structure there are... Bebra: My glasses.Help me, Lanx! Lankers: Well, here are the words: Herbert Lankers, AD 1944.Title: Mysterious, Savage, Boring. Bebra: You gave our century a name. Lankers: You understand! Bebra: After 500 years or 1000 years, when people are doing restoration work, they may find some dog bones. Lankers: That only strengthens my headline. Bebra: (excitedly) What about time, what about us, my dear friend, if our work doesn't... Look at Felix and Kitty, my acrobats.They do gymnastics on concrete. Kitty: (It's been a while since a piece of paper has been passed between Roswitha and Oskar, and between Felix and Kitty, and written on. Kitty slightly Saxon Accent) You see, Mr. Bebra, we can do anything on cement. (She runs on her little hands.) Felix: No one has ever done it on concrete before. (He plays once.) Kitty: We really need such a stage. Felix: It's just a little windy up there. Kitty: So it's not as hot and it doesn't stink like all the movie theaters. (She tangles her body into a knot.) Felix: We even came up with a poem on it. Kitty: Who do you mean by "we"?It was Oscar Nello who came up with it, and Rosweta Laguna. Felix: The poem doesn't rhyme and we helped. Kitty: There is one word missing, add it and the poem will be done. Felix: Oscar Nello wants to know, what are those poles on the beach called. Kitty: Because he's going to put it in poetry. Felix: Otherwise, something important is missing from the poem. Kitty: Tell us, sir!What are these rods called? Felix: Maybe he is not allowed to speak, for fear of spreading it to the ears of the enemy. Kitty: We sure as hell don't spread the word. Felix: It's just for art. Kitty: Alcanello put so much thought into it. Felix: He has good handwriting, Zutlin. Kitty: I should like to know where he learned it. Felix: He just doesn't know what those poles are called. Lankers: If Mr. Captain allows, I will speak. Bebra: As long as it has nothing to do with the secrets that determine the outcome of a war. Felix: But Oscar Nairo must know. Kitty: Otherwise, the poem wouldn't be possible. Roswitha: And we are all so curious. Bebra: You tell us, this is an order. Lankers: Well, this is what we set up against the tanks and landing craft that might come, because they look like asparagus, so we call them Rommel asparagus. Felix: Rommel ①... -------- ① Rommel (189-1944), Marshal of Nazi Germany, once led the African Army to fight in North Africa. After the defeat, he served as the director of defense on the Western Front to cope with the upcoming landing plan of the Allied forces. Kitty: ...asparagus?Is that the right word, Oscar Nello? Oscar: Just right! (He writes the word down on a piece of paper and hands the poem to Kitty on top of the bunker. She tangles tighter and reads the following lines as if she were reading a poem from a grade school textbook.) Kitty: On the Atlantic Wall Still tamping cement, fully armed, Rommel asparagus, the teeth also camouflage, But already on the way back to Tudou Township, They eat fish on Fridays, with poached eggs, Potatoes boiled in brine for the Sunday table: We are approaching the Biedermeier fashion! -------- ① Biedermeier was originally a funny character in Ludwig Aichroth's poem "Bidermeier's Singing Pleasure", and later refers to narrow-minded, mediocre citizens and their customs. Inside the barbed wire is where we sleep, Digging landmines happened in the hut, While dreaming of the National Pavilion and Flower Corridor, There is also a refrigerator, and the drip nozzle should be beautiful and generous: We are approaching Biedermeier fashion! Some have to tear a mother's heart, Some people have to eat weeds, -------- ① As the saying goes, it means "into the soil". The ghost still wears a silk parachute, His sloppy knitting clothes for himself, Pluck the feathers of the peacock and heron to make up for yourself: We are approaching the Biedermeier fashion. (Everyone applauds, and Lankers also applauds.) Lankers: The tide is ebbing now. Roswitha: It's time for breakfast! (She rocks a large food basket decorated with streamers and fake flowers.) Kitty: OK, let's have a picnic here! Felix: Nature whets our appetites! Rosweta: Ah, eat, divine action, you unite peoples, at breakfast time! Bebra: We dine on cement.So we have a solid foundation! (All but Lankers climb into the bunker. Roswitha spreads a bright embroidered tablecloth. She takes little poufs with green ornaments and tassels from an inexhaustible basket. A small parasol, rose-tinted green, set out a small gramophone with a microphone. Small plates, spoons, knives, egg cups, and napkins were distributed.) Felix: I'd like some liver pate! Kitty: Do we still have the roe we salvaged from Stalingrad? Oscar: You shouldn't have such a thick Danish butter, Rosewitha! Bebra: My son, you are right to worry about her lines. Roswitha: But I find it delicious and good for me.I really miss the big whipped cream cake that the Air Force treated us to in Copenhagen! Bebra: The Dutch chocolate is still hot in the thermos. Kitty: I'm obsessed with American cookie jars. Rosweta: Cookies are only good with South African ginger jam. Oscar: Don't be so greedy, Roswitha, please don't! Roswitha: You yourself are eating several finger-thick slices of horrible English corned beef! Bebra: Boss, can you also have a thin slice of raisin bread with Mirabieri plum sauce? Lankers: It's fine if I'm not on duty, Mr. Captain. Roswitha: Then give him orders! Kitty: Yes, give him orders! Bebra: Sergeant Lankers, I order you a meal: a piece of raisin bread with French Mirabelli plum sauce, soft-boiled Danish eggs, Soviet roe and a small bowl of authentic Dutch chocolate! Lankers: Yes, Mr. Captain, dinner. (He then sits down on top of the bunker.) Bebra: Don't we have a cushion for the boss to sit on? Oscar: He can take mine, I sit on the drums. Roswitha: Don't catch a cold, baby!There's danger in cement, and you're not used to it. Kitty: He can use mine.I want to tie a few knots on my body, and the honey bun will slide down more smoothly. Felix: Stay by the tablecloth, don't you let the honey stain the concrete.This is a breach of defense! (Everyone giggles.) Bebra: Ah, the sea breeze is refreshing. Rosweta: Goodbye. Bebra: Stretch your mind. Rosewitha: Stretch. Bebra: Escape the shell of conscience. Rosweta: Shelling out. Bebra: The soul is exposed. Rosweta: Looking at the sea, people also become beautiful! Bebra: Look free, spread your wings... Rosweta: Spread your wings and fly... Bebra: Fly away from here, across the sea, the sea is endless... Sergeant Lankers, I see five black things on the beach. Kitty: I saw that too.Take five umbrellas! Felix: Six. Kitty: Five!One, two, three, four, five! Lankers: This is Sister Lythieux.They were evacuated from there with their kindergarten children. Kitty: But I don't see a child!Only five umbrellas were seen. Lankers: They left the children in the village, in Bavent, and at low tide they sometimes came to pick shells and crabs hanging among Rommel's asparagus. Kitty: Poor thing! Rosewitha: Let's get them some corned beef and tinned cookies! Oscar: Oscar suggested giving them raisin bread with mirabelle plum jam, and it was Friday and the nuns fasted corned beef. Kitty: They're running!Take the umbrella as a sail and raise it! Lankers: After they've picked enough, it's always like this.In the fore is the novice Agnetta, a very young little thing, and still confused! — Mr. Captain, can you give the sergeant another cigarette?thank you very much! —The fat man behind is Abbot Shorastika, and she doesn't follow.It would probably be against the rules for her not to play on the beach. (Nuns run in the background with umbrellas. Roswitha turns on the phonograph and sounds "Petersburg Sleigh Bells."The nuns danced and cheered. ) Agnetta: Yo ho!Sister Sholas Ticum! Scholastica: Agneta!Sister Agnetham! Agnetta: Yo ho!Sister Sholas Ticum! Shorastika: Come back, my boy!Sister Agnetham! Agnetta: I can't come back!Where does it take me! Scholastika: Then pray for your return, sister! Agnetta: For a woman full of pain? Scholastika: For a merciful woman! Agnetta: For a woman full of joy? Scholastika: Pray, Sister Agnetham! Agnetta: The more I pray, the farther I run! Scholastica: (voice fades away) Agnetta!Sister Agnetham! Agnetta: Yo ho!Sister Sholas Ticum! (The nuns disappear. Only occasionally their umbrellas pop up in the background. LP Finished.The military telephone next to the entrance to the bunker rang.Lanx from the top of the bunker Jump up and down, pick up the receiver.The rest continued to eat. ) Roswitha: Even here, in the infinite nature, there must be a telephone! Lankers: Daura Seven.Sergeant Lankers. Herzog: (Walking up from the right side with a telephone receiver and dragging wires, constantly stopping, talking into the phone.) Are you asleep, Sergeant Lankers!There was movement ahead of Dora Seven.Can be clearly identified! Lankers: Those are the nuns, Mr. Lieutenant. Herzog: What is the nun doing here?What if it's not a nun? Lankers: It's a nun.can be clearly identified. Herzog: You've never heard of camouflage, huh?Never heard of a fifth column, huh?This is what the British have done for hundreds of years.They came with Bibles and suddenly opened fire. Lankers: They are picking crabs, Mr. Lieutenant... Herzog: Clear the beach immediately, understand? Lankers: Yes, Mr. Lieutenant.However, they are here to pick crabs. Herzog: Get behind the machine gun and fire hard, Sergeant Lankers! Lankers: What if they're just here to pick crabs?Now that the tide is falling, they are for kindergarten... Herzog: I order you... Lankers: Yes, Mr. Lieutenant! (Ranks enters the bunker. Herzog exits to the right with the phone in hand.) Oscar: Rosweta, cover your ears, you're going to shoot, like in the weekly newsreels. Kitty: Oh, it's scary!I need to wrap myself tighter. Bebra: I also believe that we will hear something soon. Felix: Keep playing the gramophone!It's better to dilute it! (He plays the gramophone and the record sings "The Great Delusional." Machine guns rattle to slow, drawn-out tragic music. Roswitha covers her ears. Felix does a handstand. In the background, Five nuns fly into the sky with umbrellas. The record jams, spins, then stops. Felix does a handstand. Kitty untangles her body. Roswitha hurriedly removes the tablecloth and leftovers from breakfast. Put it in the food basket. Oscar and Bebra help her. Everyone leaves the top of the bunker. Lanx appears at the entrance of the bunker.) Lankers: Mr. Captain, maybe you can give the sergeant a cigarette! Bebra: (His team members stand behind him in fear) Boss, you have smoked too much. Bebra's team members: I smoked too much! Lankers: It's all about the cement, Mr. Captain. Bebra: What if one day there is no more cement? Bebra's regiment: No more cement. Lankers: Cement is immortal, Mr. Captain.Just us and our cigarettes... Bebra: I understand, I understand, with the smoke, we dissipate. Bebra's team members: (down slowly) With the smoke! Bebra: People will come to visit this cement within a thousand years. Bebra's team members: Within a thousand years! Bebra: Dog bones will also be found. Bebra's team members: the dog's small bones. 贝布拉：还有它们在水泥里的倾斜结构层。 贝布拉的团员：神秘，野蛮，无聊！ （只剩下抽烟的兰克斯一个人。） 尽管奥斯卡在水泥上进早餐时很少说话或者几乎不说话，但他仍然记下了在大西洋壁垒的这席谈话，而这些话正是在进犯①前夜讲的。那位上士兼水泥艺术画家兰克斯，我们也将同他重逢，但要等到专写战后时期和今天处于兴旺时期的毕德迈耶尔的时候。 -------- ①指盟军进攻欧陆，在诺曼底登陆。 那辆装甲车还一直在海滨林阴道上等着我们。海尔佐格中尉大步赶来，找到了他受命保护的这一伙人。他上气不接下气地为方才那件小小事件向贝布拉道歉。“封锁区就是封锁区嘛！”他说着搀扶女士们上车，又对驾驶员作了若干指示。装甲车驶回巴文特。我们必须加快赶路，几乎没有时间用午餐，因为两点钟我们在雅致的诺曼宫的骑士厅有一场演出，这座小宫殿坐落在村口白杨树林后面。 我们总算还有半个小时可以调试灯光，随后奥斯卡击鼓拉幕。我们在为士官和士兵演出。多次爆发出粗野的笑声。我们尽量夸张。我唱碎一只夜壶，里面装着几根维也纳小香肠和芥末。贝布拉扮演小丑，化妆得很浓，为打碎的小夜壶痛哭流涕，从碎片堆里拣出香肠，抹上芥末，吃下肚去，逗得那些军灰色大兵捧腹大笑。基蒂和菲利克斯一段时间以来总穿皮短裤、戴蒂罗尔小帽出场，这使他们的杂技表演尤具特色。罗丝维塔身着银色紧身连衣裙，手戴浅绿色卷边手套，微型脚穿一双金线交织的凉鞋，淡蓝色的眼睑下垂，用她那梦游女的地中海声音证明她那万无一失的魔力。我已经讲过，奥斯卡不用装扮。我戴着我那顶绣有“皇家海轮赛德利茨号”字样的旧水手帽，身穿海军蓝衬衫，外面是金色锚形钮扣外套，下面露出齐膝短裤，卷口齐膝长统袜套在穿旧了的系带靴里。再就是那面红白相间的铁皮鼓，同它一模一样的鼓还有五面，放在我的演员行囊里作为后备。 晚上，我们又为军官和卡堡通讯处的闪电姑娘们演出。罗丝维塔有点神经质，虽说没有出错，但表演到一半时却戴上了蓝框太阳眼镜，操起了另一个声调，在预言时把话说得更直了。譬如说，她对一个苍白的、由于窘迫而傲慢无礼的闪电姑娘讲，她同她的上司私通。我听了这番宣示觉得不愉快，但大厅里一片笑声，因为那位上司无疑正坐在这位闪电姑娘身边。 演出结束后，住在诺曼宫里的团参谋部军官还举行了宴会。贝布拉、基蒂和菲利克斯留下了，拉古娜和奥斯卡则不引人注目地告辞而去。两人上床，在过了这变化太多的一天之后，倒下便睡着了，直到次日清晨五点左右，才被刚开始的进犯闹醒。 关于进犯，我有什么可以向诸君报道的呢？在我们这个地段，在奥恩河口，加拿大部队登陆了。必须撤离巴文特。我们已经收拾好行李。我们将同团部一起转移。在诺曼宫院里停着一辆热气腾腾的摩托化军厨车。罗丝维塔让我替她取一杯咖啡来，因为她未曾用早餐。我有点不耐烦，担心会赶不上我们乘的那辆卡车，便拒绝了，对她的态度也有些粗暴。她便自己跳下卡车，拿着小锅，登着高跟鞋，向军厨车跑去。她刚巧来到热气腾腾的早餐咖啡前，从军舰上射来的一发炮弹也同时落在那里。 啊，罗丝维塔，我不知道你有多大年纪，只知道你身高九十九公分，地中海借你的嘴讲话，你散发着栓皮和肉豆蔻的气味，你能够看透所有的人的心；只不过你不去洞察你自己的心，要不然的话，你就会待在我的身边，不会去取那太烫的咖啡了！ 在利西厄克斯，贝布拉为我们搞到一份去柏林的命令。当他在司令部门口见到我们时，他自罗丝维塔去世后第一次开口说话：“我们这些矮人和丑角不应该到为巨人们夯实的水泥上面去跳舞！如果我们待在台底下，无人理会，那该多好！” 到了柏林，我同贝布拉分手。“缺了你的罗丝维塔，你何苦再待在防空洞里！”他露出了薄如蜘蛛网的微笑，吻了我的前额，派持有公务旅行证明的菲利克斯和基蒂一直把我送到但泽车站，还把演员行囊里剩下的五面鼓统统送给了我。我在这样的照料下，又一如既往地带着我的书，于一九四四年六月十一日，在我的儿子三岁生日前一天抵达了我的故乡。这座城市还一直没有被破坏，像在中世纪那样，一小时又一小时地响着各种不同的教堂高耸的塔楼上大小不一的钟发出的喧闹声。