Rigadoon by Louis-ferdinand & Manheim Celine

these officers are family men . . . they show us photographs . . . their wives . . . their children . . . nice respectable staff officers . . . I won't ask them any questions . . . where they're from? . . . they'll tell me after a while . . . anyway, I recognize all branches of service, artillery, air force, quartermaster . . . I bet they speak French . . . but right now they don't feel like it . . .or don't dare . . . our captain of engineers dares . . . guess he has permission . . . nobody seems to be missing, they've all come back . . . the whole staff . . . the Marshal? . . . nobody says a word . . . did he fall off the tender? . . . he was sitting on top of the coke . . . not a word out of us! we've been to school! . . . silence is the thing! and getting this train started! . . . choo! choo! by golly, we're off! . . . well, pretty near . . . they're trying . . . front . . . and rear. . . there she goes for real! . . .
    "Say, aren't we moving?"
    "We're out of the tunnel . . ."
    "Bravo, Captain!"
    I'm not going to start looking doubtful.
    "Bravo! . . . bravo! . . ."
    It seems they've repaired the roadbed and the planes haven't come back . . .
    "They'll be here in five minutes . . ."
    He must know.
    "We'll be far away!"
    I say it good and loud . . . I want them to hear me! as long as it's the O.K.W. car . . . and we're in it! the least we can do is show morale! . . . the baby in between us is laughing . . . anyway trying to . . . good-natured kid, healthy, not a bawler . . . he laughs at our "kitchie coos" . . . but what really sends him is when the train starts to move . . . no diapers or towels, no use undressing him . . . what do you know! Lili's rummaging . . . she finds three shirts under a cushion . . . wonder who they belong to? . . . anyway, we're going to change him . . . "kitchie coo!" . . . this Captain Hoffmann knows his stuff, if the train isn't blown up we'll be in Fürth about noon . . . forty miles . . . oh, he guarantees nothing! . . . the R.A.F. patrols must have seen us coming out of the tunnel, with our two puffing locomotives front and back, volcanoes of soot . . . if they don't blast us, it means they're not interested! the worst part for us isn't the darkness but the smarting in the eyes and not being able to tell through the window holes whether it's mountains or what . . . at least we're out of the tunnel . . . there must be country outside . . . ah, a bridge! . . . I think . . . the others are just as blind as I am, I mean Lili and Le Vig . . . rubbing their eyes, that makes them worse . . . the Captain has put on his special glasses, gas equipment, he'd known what to expect . . . I ask him . . .
    "Was that tunnel long?"
    "Two thousand and twelve feet . . ."
    "You've got doctors in Fürth?"
    "Anything you want in Fürth . . . but first we've got to get there . . ."
    "Of course! . . . Of course!"
    The tracks seem to be in good shape . . . I suppose the Marauders or whatever they are have other fish . . . you can hear them up there, way up . . . we're going downhill . . . pretty fast, I think . . . very fast for us, this train I mean . . . I'm wondering about those Baltavian women and kids hiking back to Leipzig . . .
    "You think they're there by now?"
    "No!"
    Categoric! . . . we're still rolling . . . but slowing down . . . a platform . . . it's Fürth . . . buried in soot! the brakes! . . . a sign . . . sure enough! . . . this station hasn't been hit . . . I don't think . . . Wartesaal . . . waiting room . . . I'm blinking pretty bad, but I see it! I'm sure . . . I ask the others, they see it too . . . ah, nurses! . . . right there . . . the minute we stop . . . Captain Hoffmann wants service! . . .
    "Schnell! Schnell!"
    Our pollywog . . . on the sofa! . . . Lili picks him up and hands him to me . . . and I pass him on to a deaconess . . . must be . . . you know, one of their Protestant nuns . . . Leipzig must have notified them . . . and here they are! . . . they wrap him up and take him away! . .