Goodbye. Weapons - Translation Classics Library 033

Author: Hemingway
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-08-01
Features: That late summer, we lived in a house in the countryside, overlooking the high mountains across the river and the plains. The riverbed was filled with pebbles and large round stones, dry and white in the sun. The water was clear, the river swift, and deep pools of azure blue. The troops marched past the house, kicking up dust that settled on the leaves, even coating the tree trunks with layers of dirt. That year, the leaves had already fallen early, and we watched the troops marching down the road, dust swirling in the air, leaves drifting down in the breeze. After the soldiers passed, the road was bright and empty, left with only a carpet of fallen leaves. The plains were rich with crops; there were numerous fruit orchards, while the mountains beyond the plains were bare and brown. The peaks were embroiled in battle; at night, we could see the flashes of artillery. In the darkness, this situation was like summer lightning, but cooler at night, without the oppressive heat that precedes a summer storm. Sometimes in the dark, we could hear the sound of troops marching past the window, and the rumble of motorized trailers dragging heavy artillery. At night, there was frequent movement on the roads, with many donkeys carrying...