"
Marschner's voice failed him again for a moment. His teeth chattered.
His whole body trembled as he stammered:
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself? A soldier doesn't fire at helpless,
wounded men. Remember that!"
Weixler went white.
"I beg to inform you, Captain, that the one who was near our trench was
hiding the others from us. I couldn't spare him." Then, with a sudden
explosion of anger, he added defiantly: "Besides, I thought we had quite
enough hungry mouths at home as it is."
The captain jumped at him like a snapping dog and stamped his foot and
roared:
"I'm not interested in what you think. I forbid you to shoot at the
wounded! As long as I am commanding officer here every wounded man shall
be held sacred, whether he tries to get to us or to return to the enemy.
Do you understand me?"
The lieutenant drew himself up haughtily.
"In that case I must take the liberty, sir, of begging you to hand me
that order in writing. I consider it my duty to inflict as much injury
upon the enemy as possible. A man that I let off to-day may be cured and
come back two months later and perhaps kill ten of my comrades."
For a moment the two men stood still, staring at each other as though
about to engage in mortal combat. Then Marschner nodded his head almost
imperceptibly, and said in a toneless voice:
"You shall have it in writing."
He swung on his heel and left.
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