Detached from home and the normal ambitions and concerns of a man of twenty, Paul ponders a play and some verse he left in his desk and realizes that his generation has “become a waste land.” He thinks about Müller’s pragmatic request for the boots, which Kemmerich will obviously never need again. Paul recalls how his group of twenty classmates, their plans for the future still in the formative stages, enlisted with the district commandant. After three weeks of basic training, their caustic victimizing by their drill instructor, Himmelstoss, deflates any romance the military ever held for them. Under Himmelstoss, they tolerate demeaning harassment, such as remaking beds, sweeping snow, softening stiff boot leather, performing guard duty on consecutive Sundays, and crawling on their bellies in mud. Paul and Albert, who usually bear the brunt of Himmelstoss’ ill humor, challenge his power by dumping excrement on his legs. The act breaks his tyrannical hold over them, yet Paul explains that basic training suits the needs of a soldier by strengthening brotherhood and rendering them “hard, suspicious, pitiless, vicious, tough. . . .”
Returning to Kemmerich’s bedside, Paul tries to boost his friend’s morale. Having discovered the amputation of his leg, Kemmerich fears that he will die without achieving his ambition to become a head-forester. Paul, who observes Kemmerich’s childlike nature, regrets his friend’s impending death and vainly tries to encourage Kemmerich to return to Klosterberg for convalescence. An hour later, as Kemmerich begins to gasp, Paul begs an overworked surgeon for help, and then returns with an orderly to find his friend dead. Paul collects Kemmerich’s belongings, unties his identification tag, and delivers the boots to Müller. They conclude the evening with sausage, hot tea, and rum.
