not to Turkey
Event ID: 370
Categories:
05 June 1917
Source ID: 10
‘Conscientiously as his forerunner, his lad, the good Menzke, arrived here early in the morning at six o’clock. In response to my astonished question as to why he was already coming back, he said: ‘We didn’t like it with the Austrians.’ Amused by this categorical refusal, I investigated further and learnt that cigarette and luggage difficulties had led the good man to this assessment. The situation is probably different for Manfred; it has become increasingly difficult for him to separate himself from the front and his squadron, he is homesick for it. I could imagine that the ever-increasing reports of the numerical superiority of the English in the air had made Manfred feel responsible and were the real reason why he interrupted his relaxing and interesting trip to Turkey in Vienna. He would never allow himself to rest as long as the German positions were still overshadowed by enemy aircraft squadrons. While Menzke enjoyed a hearty breakfast in the kitchen, he told the girls, who always enjoyed being entertained by him, stories from the front and about his cavalry captain. The two of them had probably experienced a lot together, including many hunting adventures, sitting on boars on moonlit nights in enemy territory, in the winter forest. A black bolt came shooting out of the thicket – a jet of fire and a bang – the snow dusted off the trees and the black man was thrown into the bushes with a thud. ‘The cavalry captain never misses, there’s no such thing,’ says Menzke, hitting the edge of the plate with the back of his knife to emphasise his point. ‘He’s the purest marksman.’ And then, with a vivacity that is a rarity in his heavy peasant manner, he recounts how he once had to impale a dozen bottles on sticks on the park wall in the rest quarters, which the cavalry captain then shot in rapid succession with his pistol, at a distance of thirty to forty metres, without missing a single bottle. ‘There won’t be another cavalry captain like mine,’ Menzke emphasises once again. ‘He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t smoke. He once said to me: ‘Menzke, don’t smoke so much, it’ll only make you old and bent-legged.’ And he was right, wasn’t he?’ The girls didn’t find this news very interesting, they wanted to hear about exciting aerial battles; but Menzke never lets himself be swayed from his chosen direction. ‘You know,’ he said, chewing his cud, ’in the old days, when we were still in Russia, it was nicer, with the patrols and all. I just didn’t like hauling water.’ – Why, the giggling voices ask. – Menzke: ‘The cavalry captain always wants to bathe, at least once a day, that’s harmful, isn’t it? There wasn’t much water in Russia; at first we were by a lake, but then we came to a real wasteland, all sand. So we made our own bathing establishment. Very simple: a trestle, a barrel at the top with a hole in the floor and a tin can with holes nailed underneath. A flap with a cord on it – and the Russian shower was ready. Only once, I filled it with bog water and the lieutenant, who was standing naked under the shower, looked like he’d been doused with chocolate. There might have been a little tinder there.’ ‘Well, but otherwise…’ With this conciliatory remark, Menzke wants to indicate that he is quite happy with his cavalry captain. It’s just strange that he needs so little sleep. He, Menzke, thinks nothing of such a way of life. He would like to get a few good hours’ sleep after a strenuous night on the high seat or in the aeroplane, but when he has made his bed nice and inviting, the cavalry captain only says, ’Menzke, shut up, I’m not tired at all.’ ‘But otherwise… as I said, we have a lot of fun with the dog, our flying dog, Moritz. We still have him from Ostend. When he was little, he slept in bed with the cavalry captain, but later that was no longer possible, he was like a middle calf. And he’s clever, I tell you… When foreign gentlemen come to us on the airfield, he puts his paws on their shoulders from behind and takes off their hats. There’s always something to laugh about. In general, don’t think that we live in the field like a bunch of mourners, there’s no such thing. The cavalry captain can be damn funny. Once there was someone with a paintbrush who wanted to paint the cavalry captain, but he didn’t feel like it because a famous professor had already painted him. Well, and – what can I tell you – the painter was terribly anxious. Whenever there was a bit of a bang, he crawled into the mouse hole. That’s when the officers had a bit of fun. They set off a firecracker in front of his little house and shouted: ‘Alarm! Alarm!’ and the bucket of cold water came down his neck. Haha… I think it was the funny Lieutenant Wolff, he’s always up to pranks like that.’ The otherwise taciturn Menzke spoke in this tone and became quite talkative.’
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