It is horrible, but it is absolutely the truth.
"Here I have been in action, I have fought, they have seen me under
fire," [Footnote: On m'a vu au feu.] he continued; "but when will it all
end? I think, never. And my strength and energy have already begun to
flag. Then I had imagined la guerre, la vie de camp; but it isn't at all
what I see, in a sheepskin jacket, dirty linen, soldier's boots, and you
go out in ambuscade, and the whole night long lie in the ditch with some
Antonof reduced to the ranks for drunkenness, and any minute from behind
the bush may come a rifle-shot and hit you or Antonof,--it's all the
same which. That is not bravery; it's horrible, c'est affreux, it's
killing!" [Footnote: Ca tue]
"Well, you can be promoted a non-commissioned officer for this campaign,
and next year an ensign," said I.
"Yes, it may be: they promised me that in two years, and it's not up
yet. What would those two years amount to, if I knew any one! You can
imagine this life with Pavel Dmitrievitch; cards, low jokes, drinking
all the time; if you wish to tell anything that is weighing on your
mind, you would not be understood, or you would be laughed at: they talk
with you, not for the sake of sharing a thought, but to get something
funny out of you.
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