All Quiet on the Western Front / На Западном фронте без перемен. Книга для чтения на английском языке

The shell hole is gaping in front of me. I fix my eyes on it, grasping at it almost physically, I have to get to it in one jump.

Then I feel a blow in the face, and a hand grabs me by the shoulder – has the dead man come back to life? The hand shakes me, I turn my head, and in a flash of light that lasts only a second I find myself looking into Katczinsky’s face. His mouth is wide open and he is bellowing, but I can’t hear anything; he shakes me and comes closer; the noise ebbs for a moment and I can make out his voice: �Gas – gaaas – gaaaaas – pass it on[105 - pass it on – передай дальше]!’

I pull out my gas-mask case… Someone is lying a little way away from me.

All I can think of is that I’ve got to tell him: �Gaaas… gaaaas.’

I shout, crawl across to him, hit at him with the gas-mask case but he doesn’t notice – I do it again, and then again – he only ducks – it is one of the new recruits – I look despairingly at Kat, who has his mask on already – I tear mine out of the case, my helmet is knocked aside as I get the mask over my face, I reach the man and his gas-mask case is by my hand, so I get hold of the mask and shove it over his head – he grabs it, I let go, and with a sudden jolt I am lying in the shell hole.

The dull thud of the gas shells is mixed in with the sharp noise of the high explosives. In between the explosions a bell rings the warning, gongs and metal rattles spread the word – Gas – gas – gaas…

There is a noise as someone drops behind me, once, twice.

I wipe the window of my gas-mask clear of condensation. It is Kat, Kropp and somebody else. There are four of us lying here, tensed and waiting, breathing as shallowly as we can[106 - breathing as shallowly as we can – стараемся дышать как можно реже].

The first few minutes with the mask tell you whether you will live or die. Is it airtight? I know the terrible sights from the field hospital, soldiers who have been gassed, choking for days on end as they spew up their burned-out lungs, bit by bit.

I breathe carefully, with my mouth pressed against the mouthpiece. By now the gas is snaking over the ground and sinking into all the hollows. It insinuates itself into our shell hole wriggling its way in like a broad, soft jellyfish. I give Kat a nudge: it is better to crawl out and lie up on top rather than here, where the gas concentrates itself the most. But we can’t.