A SWEDISH UNIVERSITY STUDENT

In the Napoleonic era, when Denmark was threatened and Romanticism was all the rage, there was no shortage of passionate young Swedes, especially university students, who did not hesitate to volunteer for the war across the Öresund.
This snippet by Helena Nyblom deals with one of those who never lived through the conflict. A lively and cheerful young man who, during the Danish campaign, could no longer bear to stay studying and writing in Lund or Uppsala:

»...det skulle vara rart att ha en kamrat att trösta sig med, när 
studierna bli för tunga.», sade han.Baltimor till universitetet för att studera...
Om Baltimor hängde allt för länge med näsan över läroboken...
När Baltimor var ute i kamratsällskap och i dryckeslag...
... sådana kamrater, som Baltimor senare kom under fund med voro av rätta sorten. 
Det hände en gång, att Baltimor låg ganska sjuk.
... allt, vad doktorn företog sig, och när den 
gamla städerskan, som skötte den sjuke, pysslade om honom...
Men då hände det, att Baltimor en dag tog ned alla 
sina böcker, packade sina koffertar, och gjorde sig färdig 
att resa.
Baltimor sade:

»Jag skall ut och slåss. Jag skall ner till Danmark och hjälpa dem 

att försvara sitt land. Men jag kommer nog igen.»

Veckor och månader gingo.

Äntligen kom han, men han kom icke levande. 

Han hade fallit som en hjälte i kriget, och nu kom han i 
sin kista för att begravas i sin fädernejord.

Den dag han sänktes ned i graven, stodo hans vänner 
och kamrater och sjöngo sitt avsked för honom.

»Han studerade vid universitetet.
Men då den unge mannen faller i kriget...»

CLAUDIA'S DREAM OF THE CASUALTIES OF WAR

From Selma Lagerlöf, "Den heliga Veronikas svetteduk."
There are a series of dreams that Pontius Pilate's wife Claudia had on Holy Thursday night.
Two of them captivated me: one of the insane (being an aspie myself, I am interested in the subject of psychic imbalance in literature) and one of the casualties of war (there's my pacifist vein and my battlefield Romanticism, at odds but peacefully coexisting still). The former was in the previous post. The latter is this one:


När hon nu väl hade vaknat, satte hon sig upp i bädden 
och sade till sig själv: 

— Jag vill inte drömma mer. Nu vill jag hålla mig 
vaken hela natten, så att jag må slippa att se mer av detta 
förfärliga. 

Men nästan i samma ögonblick, som hön hade tänkt detta, 
hade sömnen blivit henne övermäktig på nytt, och hon hade 
lagt ner sitt huvud på kudden och insomnat. 

Åter hade hon drömt, att hon satt på taket av sitt hus, 
och hennes lilla son sprang fram och tillbaka där uppe och 
lekte med en boll. 

Då hörde hon en röst, som sade till henne: 

— Gå fram till balustraden, som omger taket, och se 
vilka de är, som står och väntar på din gård! 

Men hon, som drömde, sade till sig själv: 

— Jag har sett nog mycket elände denna natt. Jag kan 
inte stå ut med mer. Jag vill förbliva där jag är. 

I detsamma kastade hennes son sin boll, så att den föll 
utanför balustraden, och barnet skyndade fram och klättrade 
upp på räckverket. Då blev hon rädd. Hon sprang fram och 
grep om barnet. 

Men därvid kom hon att kasta ögonen neråt, och än en 
gång såg hon, att gården var full av människor. 

Men där på gården funnos alla de av jordens människor, 
som hade blivit sårade i krig. De kommo med sönderskurna 
kroppar, med borthuggna lemmar och med stora, öppna sår, 
ur vilka blodet flödade, så att hela gården var övergjuten 
därav. 

Och jämte dessa trängde sig där alla de av jordens 
människor, som hade förlorat sina kära på slagfältet. Det var 
de föräldralösa, som sörjde sina försvarare, och de unga 
kvinnorna, som ropade efter sina älskade, och de gamla, 
som suckade efter sina söner. 

De främsta bland dem trängde sig mot dörren, och 
portvakten kom som förut och öppnade. 

Han frågade alla dessa, som hade blivit sårade i fejder 
och strider: 

— Vad söker ni i detta hus? 

Och de svarade: 

— Vi söker den stora profeten av Nasaret, som ska 
förbjuda krig och örlog och föra freden till jorden. Vi söker 
honom, som ska omforma spjuten till liar och svärden till 
vingårdsknivar. 

Då svarade slaven en smula otåligt: 

— Kom nu inga flera och plåga mig! Jag har redan sagt 
det nog många gånger. Den stora profeten finns inte här. 
Pilatus har dödat honom. 

Därpå stängde han porten. Men hon, som drömde, tänkte 
på all den jämmer, som nu skulle komma. 

— Jag vill inte höra den, sade hon och rusade bort från 
balustraden. 

I detsamma hade hon vaknat. Och då hade hon funnit, att 
hon i skrämseln hade sprungit ur sin bädd och ner på det 
kalla stengolvet. 

WARFARE IN ALLEGORICAL TALES: DUCHENE

The following article contains extracts from Chapter Nine of The Magician's Elephant, by Kate DiCamillo. The character who is killed in action is the leading sibling characters' father, surnamed Duchene, rank unknown (officer, non-com, or private?).

The story takes place "at the end of the century before last," id est, the end of the nineteenth century, in a Ruritanian setting, a kingdom ruled by a queen, with a Nordic/Central European climate (it snows in winter), and about a decade after the end of the war that claimed the Duchene father's life.

Mr. Duchene, rank unknown, was a young military man, loving and fond of his wife and children. Eldest son Peter and his guardian, veteran and wartime companion of Duchene's Vilna Lutz (now a decrepit elderly veteran with a prosthetic wooden foot, who speaks always in military jargon), still admire him greatly, referring to him as "a soldier brave and true":

COLOUR CODE:
Countess Quintet, aristocrat
Vilna Lutz, elderly and deranged war veteran
Peter Augustus Duchesne, Duchesne's son and Vilna's ward
Iddo, former regimental pet

"At least with a war, there are well-dressed heroes capable of making interesting conversation."

And there was a time when he had worked carrying messages and letters and plans across battlefields, transferring information from one officer of Her Majesty’s army to another.

And then one day, on a battlefield near Modegnel, through the horses and soldiers and tents,

forever running, carrying a letter, a map, battle plans, some piece of paper that would win the war, if only he could arrive with it in time.

Vilna Lutz’s fever receded, and his words began again to make a dull and unremarkable and decidedly military sense. He had risen from his bed and trimmed his beard to a fine point and was seated on the floor. He was placing a collection of lead soldiers in the pattern of a famous battle.

"As you can see, this was a particularly brilliant strategy on the part of General Von Flickenhamenger, and he executed it with a great deal of grace and bravery, bringing these soldiers from here to here, thereby performing a flanking manoeuvre that was entirely unexpected and exceedingly elegant and devastating. One cannot help but admire the genius of it. Do you admire it?"

 “This is important. This is the work of your father I am speaking of. This is a man’s work.”

about his father in a field full of mud, a bayonet wound in his side. about his father bleeding. about him dying.

Instead it (soldiering) seemed like foolishness – a horrible, terrible, nightmarish foolishness.

“As I was saying, as I was illuminating, as I was elucidating, yes, these men, these brave, brave soldiers, under the direct orders of the brilliant General Von Flickenhamenger, came around from behind. They outflanked the enemy. And that, ultimately, is how the battle was won. Does that make sense?”

 "We were speaking of battles, you and I. We were speaking of the brilliance of generals and the bravery of foot soldiers.” Vilna Lutz beat his wooden foot against the floorboards. “Battles and bravery and strategy, that is what we were speaking of.”

who would and could become a soldier like your father, a man I admired.

"soldiering is a useless and pointless thing.”

of him on the battlefield, bleeding to death.

and battlefields 

He was a soldier, and he died on the battlefield. Vilna Lutz served with him and fought beside him. He was his friend. He came to deliver the news of my father’s death.

When my mother heard the news, the baby started to come: my sister, Adele.

ILLUSTRATION

(The death of Duchene was not illustrated by Yoko Tanaka in the edition meant for most languages. This illustration is from a prized Russian edition, illustrated by I. Oleynukova)


EXTRA ON STUDY FOR THE BOOK

(Peter's and Adele's father) was a soldier killed during a battle.
(Peter tells) the story of his father dying on the battlefield and Vilna Lutz bringing the news to them.

Peter's and Adele's father was killed in a war;

Adele Duchene is a young girl that is an orphan, because her father died in a war and her mother soon died after she was born.

Peter's and Adele's father had been killed in the war 

 the mood of a place haunted by a recent, unnamed war. 

who has lost his father to war,

an aging war veteran who took him in after his father was killed in action,

His dad was killed in war, and his mum was killed giving birth to his sister.  She went into early labor with his sister b/c she was so distraught over hearing that her husband died.  I would imagine hearing such news would be difficult and would cause a lot of stress emotionally on your body. 

Vilna Lutz - a comrade of his dead father who was "a soldier, brave and true".




Flashcard

bayonet

a dagger at the end of a rifle

IN MEMORIAM

To all the casualties of the wars in Westeros (and Essos)