A Farewell To Arms, Ernest Hemingway

A FAREWELLTO ARMS

BOOK ONE
BOOK TWO
BOOK THREE
BOOK FOUR
BOOK FIVE

BOOK ONE

1

In thelate summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains. In the bed of the river there were pebbles and boulders, dry and white in the sun, and the water was clear and swiftly movingand blue in the channels. Troops went by the house and down the road and the dust they raised powdered the leaves of the trees. The trunks of the trees too were dusty and theleaves fell early that year and we saw the troops marching along the road and thedust rising and leaves, stirred by the breeze, falling andthe soldiers marchingand afterward theroad bare and white except for the leaves.

The plain was rich with crops; there were many orchards of fruit trees and beyond the plain the mountains were brown and bare. There was fighting in the mountains and at night we could see the flashes from the artillery. In the dark it was like summer lightning, but the nights were cool and there was not the feeling of a storm coming.

Sometimes in the dark we heard the troops marching underthe window and guns going past pulled by motor­tractors. There was much traffic at night and many mules on the roads with boxes of ammunition on each sideof their pack­saddles and gray motor trucks that carried men, and other trucks with loads covered with canvas that moved slowerin the traffic. There were big guns too that passed in theday drawn by tractors, the long barrels of the guns covered with green branches and greenleafy branches and vines laid over the tractors. To the north we couldlook across a valley and see a forest of chestnut trees and behind it another mountain on this sideof theriver.

There was fighting for that mountain too, but it was not successful, andin the fall when the rains came the leaves all fell from the chestnut trees andthebranches were bare and the trunks black with rain.The vineyards were thin and bare­branched too and all the country wet and brown and dead with the autumn. There were mists over the river and clouds on the mountain and the trucks splashed mud on the road and the troops were muddy and wet in their capes; their rifles were wet and under their capes the two leather cartridge­boxes on the front of the belts, gray leatherboxes heavy with the packs of clips of thin, long 6.5 mm. cartridges, bulged forward under the capes so that the men, passing on theroad, marched as though they were sixmonths gone with child.

There were small gray motor cars that passed going very fast; usually there was an officer on the seat with the driver and more officers in theback seat. They splashed more mud than the camions even and if oneof theofficers in the back was very small and sitting between two generals, he himself so small that you could not seehis face but only the top of his cap and his narrow back, andif the car went especially fast it was probably the King. He livedin Udine and came out in this way nearly every day to seehow things were going, and things went very badly.

At the start of the winter came the permanent rain and with therain came the cholera. But it was checked and in the end only seven thousand died of it in the army.

2

The next yearthere were many victories. Themountain that was beyondthe valley and thehillside where the chestnut forest grewwas captured and there were victories beyond the plain on the plateau to the south and we crossed theriverin August and lived in a housein Gorizia that had a fountain and many thick shady trees in a walled garden and a wistaria vine purple on the side of the house. Now the fighting was in thenext mountains beyond and was not a mile away. The town was very nice andourhouse was very fine. Theriverran behind us and the town had been captured very handsomely but the mountains beyond it could not be taken and I was very glad the Austrians seemed to want to come back to the town some time, if the war should end, because they did not bombard it to destroy it but only a little in a military way.

People lived on in it and there were hospitals and cafés and artillery up sidestreets and two bawdy houses, one for troops and one forofficers, and with the end of the summer, the cool nights, the fightingin the mountains beyond the town, the shell­marked iron of the railway bridge, the smashed tunnel by the river where the fighting had been, the trees aroundthe square and the long avenue of trees thatled to the square; thesewith there being girls in thetown, the King passing in his motor car, sometimes now seeing his face and little long necked body and gray beard like a goat’s chin tuft; all these with the suddeninteriors of houses that hadlost a wall through shelling, with plaster and rubble in theirgardens and sometimes in the street, and the whole thing going wellon theCarso made the fall very different from the last fall when we had beenin the country. The war was changed too.

The forest of oak trees onthe mountain beyond the town was gone. The forest had been green in the summerwhen we had come into thetown but now there were the stumps and the broken trunks and the groundtorn up, and one day at the end of the fall when I was out where the oak forest had been I saw a cloud coming over the mountain. It came very fast and the sun went a dull yellow and then everything was gray and the sky was covered and the cloud came on down themountain and suddenly we were in it and it was snow. The snow slanted across the wind, the bare ground was covered, the stumps of trees projected, there was snow on the guns and there were paths in the snow going back to the latrines behindtrenches.

Later, below in the town, I watched the snow falling, looking out of the window of the bawdy house, the house for officers, where I sat with a friend and two glasses drinking a bottle of Asti, and,looking out at the snow falling slowly and heavily, we knew it was all over for that year. Up the river the mountains had not been taken; none of the mountains beyond the river hadbeen taken. That was all left for next year. My friend saw the priest from ourmess goingby in the street, walkingcarefully in the slush, and pounded on the window to attract his attention. The priest looked up. He saw us and smiled.

My friend motioned for him to come in. Thepriest shook his head and went on. That night in the mess after the spaghetti course, which every one ate very quickly and seriously, lifting the spaghetti on the fork until theloose strands hung clear then lowering it into the mouth, or else using a continuouslift and suckinginto the mouth, helpingourselves to wine from the grass­coveredgallon flask; it swung in a metal cradle and you pulled the neck ofthe flask down with the forefingerand the wine, clear red, tannic andlovely, poured out into the glass held with the same hand; after this course, the captain commenced picking on the priest.

The priest was young and blushed easily and wore a uniform like the rest of us but with a cross in dark red velvet above the left breast pocket of his gray tunic. The captain spoke pidgin Italian for my doubtful benefit, in orderthat I might understand perfectly, that nothing should belost.

«Priest to­day with girls,» the captain said looking at the priest and at me. The priest smiled and blushed and shook his head. This captain baited him often.
«Not true?» asked the captain. «To­day I see priest with girls.» «No,» said the priest. The other officers were amused at the baiting.
«Priest not withgirls,» went on the captain. «Priest never with girls,» he explained to me. He took my glass and filledit, lookingat my eyes all the time, but not losing sight of the priest.

«Priest every night five against one.» Every one at the table laughed. «You understand? Priestevery night five against one.» He made a gesture and laughed loudly. The priest accepted it as a joke.
«The Pope wants the Austrians to win the war,» the major said. «He loves Franz Joseph. That’s where the money comes from. I am an atheist.»
«Did you ever read the ‘Black Pig’?»asked the lieutenant. «I will get you a copy. It was that which shook my faith.»
«It is a filthy and vile book,» said the priest. «You do not really like it.»
«It is very valuable,» said the lieutenant. «It tells you about thosepriests. You will like it,» he said to me. I smiled at the priest and he smiledback across the candle­light. «Don’t you read it,» he said.

«I will getit for you,» said the lieutenant.
«All thinking men are atheists,» the major said. «I do not believein the Free Masons however.»
«I believein the Free Masons,» thelieutenant said. «It is a noble organization.» Some one came in and as the door opened I could see the snow falling.
«There willbe no more offensive now that thesnow has come,» I said.
«Certainly not,» said the major. «You should go onleave. You should go to Rome, Naples, Sicily­­»
«He should visit Amalfi,» said thelieutenant.»Iwill write you cards to my family in Amalfi. They willlove youlike a son.»
«He should go to Palermo.» «He ought to