“Just poems about spring and that”

On guard duty in a trench, Schlump hears “the call of nature.” He cannot desert his post. And all he has for paper is a “slim volume of poetry.” By a sign reading Infantry Regiment X—Infantry Regiment Y, he leaves “a different, far less glorious marker”:


Hans Herbert Grimm, Schlump. 1928. Trans. Jamie Bullock (New York: New York Review Books, 2016).

Also from this novel
Food fight : “Headed for the Front” : “A few sacks of peas”