Quotes About Survival

Albert, what would you do if it were suddenly peace-time again?" "There won't be any peace-time," says Albert bluntly. "Well, but if—" persists Müller, "what would you do?" "Clear out of this!" growls Kropp. "Of course. And then what?" "Get drunk," says Albert. "Don't talk rot, I mean seriously—" "So do I," says Kropp, "what else should a man do?

Nobody taught us at school how to light a cigarette in a rainstorm, or how it is still possible to make a fire even with soaking wet wood – or that the best place to stick a bayonet is into the belly, because it can't get jammed in there, the way it can in the ribs.

Night again. We are deadened by the strain—a deadly tension that scrapes along one's spine like a gapped knife. Our legs refuse to move, our hands tremble, our bodies are a thin skin stretched painfully over repressed madness, over an almost irresistible, bursting roar. We have neither flesh nor muscles any longer, we dare not look at one another for fear of some miscalculable thing. So we shut our teeth—it will end—it will end—perhaps we will come through.

Was erwarten sie von uns, wenn eine Zeit kommt, wo kein Krieg ist? Jahre hindurch war unsere Beschäftigung Töten - es war unser erster Beruf im Dasein. Unser Wissen vom Leben beschränkt sich auf den Tod. Was soll danach noch geschehen? Und was soll aus uns werden?

We get back pretty well. There is no further attack by the enemy. We lie for an hour panting and resting before anyone speaks. We are so completely played out that in spite of our great hunger we do not think of the provisions. Then gradually we become something like men again.

Well, she can go to hell with her whispering and her words. You believe in a miracle, but really it just comes down to loaves of bread.

Terror can be endured so long as a man simply ducks; - but it kills, if a man thinks about it.

It is the second night," he said. "The dangerous night. The charm of the unknown is gone and the charm of familiarity has not yet come. We'll survive it.

They were living corpses and died like flies in frost. The Small camp was full of them. They were broken and lost and nothing could save them—not even freedom.

Biz art?k o eski tasas?zlar deÄŸiliz; biz ÅŸimdi müthiÅŸ vurdumduymaz olduk. ÖlmeyeceÄŸiz ama yaÅŸayacak m?y?z? Kimsesiz çocuklar gibi b?rak?lm??, yaÅŸl? insanlar gibi görmüÅŸ geçirmiÅŸiz; kabay?z, üzgünüz, sat?htay?z... galiba mahvolmuÅŸuz.

the shelling is stronger than everything. It wipes out the sensibilities, I merely crawl still farther under the coffin, it shall protect me, though Death himself lies in it.

And this I know: all these things that now, while we are still in the war, sink down in us like a stone, after the war shall waken again, and then shall begin the disentanglement of life and death.

Many slept crouching and the lucky one was he whose bedfellows died in the evening. They were then carried away, and for one night he could stretch out until new arrivals came.

As usual in times of war, fear, and affliction, the individual human being had ceased to exist; only one thing counted: a valid passport.

What do they expect of us if a time ever comes when the war is over? Through the years our business has been killing;-it was our first calling in life. Our knowledge of life is limited to death. What will happen afterwards? And what shall come out of us?

Granaten, Gasschwaden und Tankflottillen - Zerstampfen, Zerfressen, Tod. Ruhr, Grippe, Typhus - Würgen, Verbrennen, Tod. Graben, Lazarett, Massengrab - mehr Möglichkeiten gibt es nicht.

M?su nol?d?t? atmi?a ir siets. T? grib izdz?vot. Un izdz?vot var tikai aizmirstot.

In Wirklichkeit vergessen wir nichts. Solange wir hier im Felde sein müssen, sinken die Fronttage, wenn sie vorbei sind, wie Steine in uns hinunter, weil sie zu schwer sind, um sofort darüber nachdenken zu können.

Shortly after the war Valentin had come into a little money, and had been drinking it ever since. He considered it his duty to celebrate his good luck in having come out alive. It was nothing to him that that was now several years ago. One could never celebrate it enough, he used to explain. He was one of those with an uncanny memory of the war. The rest of us had forgotten many things; but he remembered every day and every hour.

It keeps them going, staves off the evil day when they will be alone. And to be alone, really alone, without illusion, that way lies madness—and suicide.

It will try simply to tell of a generation of men who, even though they may have escaped shells, were destroyed by the war." - Paul Baumer

We march up, moody or good-tempered soldiers - we reach the zone where the front begins and become on the instant human animals.

At school nobody ever taught us how to light a cigarette in a storm of rain, nor how a fire could be made with wet wood - nor that it is best to stick a bayonet in the belly because there it doesn't get jammed, as it does in the ribs.

We have become wild beasts. We do not fight, we defend ourselves against annihilation.