I glance at my boots. They are big and clumsy$$$ the breeches are tucked into them$$$ and standing up one looks well-built and powerful in those great drainpipes. But when we go bathing and strip$$$ suddenly we have slender legs again and slight shoulders. We are no longer soldiers but little more than boys; no one would believe that we could carry packs. It is a strange moment when we stand naked; then we become civilians$$$ and almost feel ourselves to be so. When bathing Franz Kemmerich looked as slight and frail as a child. There he lies now -- buy why? The whole world ought to pass by this bed and say: "That is Franz Kemmerich$$$ nineteen and a half years old$$$ he doesn't want to die. Let him not die!