In his novel Peace Richard Bausch explores the nature of violence in an already violent setting. The choice of title is an interesting and fleeting one since this is a story that takes place during the latter part of World War II in northern Italy. The story revolves around three American soldiers who must decide where their moral compass lies, at what point does killing become murder and how does one live with these acts of violence. They are faced with the dilemma of doing their duty yet feeling culpability for their actions.
Is it a particular act of brutality when the commanding officer of a unit of soldiers shoots and kills the woman a German soldier had been hiding with? The German soldier had taken the men by surprise and killed two, before paying with his own life when they returned fire. The woman, a prostitute and probably German, too, in anger and repulsion fights to get free throwing curses at the men. So the Sergeant aims and fires. And the image of the dead German soldier and especially the woman follow the men through the remainder of the story. Perhaps haunt is a better word to use.
Corporal Marson is ordered to take two soldiers, Asch and Joyner, on a recon mission. Marson is slightly older with a wife and baby daughter he has never seen back home. Asch, Jewish, is constantly at odds with Joyner whose belligerent and racist attitude is like sandpaper that grates on the men. An already dismal day filled with endless cold rain turns even darker when the hill they begin to climb stretches out into a mountain. The frigid cold becomes bitter when wind and snow arrive. They are guided by an elderly Italian man whose loyalty they soon begin to question when they encounter German soldiers and then a sniper. It seems as though the war and maybe even world itself begins to press in on the men and conspires against them as they trudge ever upwards.
For a war novel this felt like a surprisingly quiet sort of story, aside from the profanity-laced dialogue whipped out rapid-fire and increasingly intense as emotions and ire were raised. There are no battlefield scenes, not much blood, though a fair amount of suspense in its own way. It's the sort of story, however, you begin peeling back with each new development bringing to light what's inside. Each conversation and thought shedding a little more light on the inconsistencies Bausch raises in the face of war and its futility.
"Like I said, you might've noticed that two of us got it when she fell out of that cart."
"She didn't do the shooting. For all we know she was a refugee, a victim."
"She was a Nazi man. They don't like Jews. That's your people, isn't it?"
******
"Otherwise, we're no different than they are."
Perhaps that's the crux of the story. Knowing where to draw the line between necessity and humanity.
"The waiting was changing him, emptying him, draining all the human elements, as if the spirit were bleeding."
As the men file up the hill and the day darkens to night their thoughts, though it's primarily Corporal Marson whose story this is, are filled with images of home and of their first days on Sardinia before the war became real and the invasion of the mainland began (but by then the Italians had capitulated and the Germans began their retreat). But the cold and the pain and especially the fear numb the men. Fear of what they'll find on the other side when they get over the top and fear of death, fear of whoever it is that has them in their crosshair. The choices they must make in order to survive bring to sharp relief the questions they ask after the murder of the woman. The peace of the title, when it finally comes, is a tenuous condition. During war it's fleeting at best.
I'd never read Bausch before this, hadn't even thought of reading him as a matter of fact, but I'm glad I did. He's published almost as many short story collections as novels, and this spare and slender story feels almost novella-like--a short story expanded. He seems to come at the subject of war from a different perspective than other writers I've read for the readalong (or maybe it's just his approach that feels different). It's not an epic story, even quite narrow in its view, but for all that the issues he raises are very good ones. He deals in shades of grey, however. This is a story that asks far more questions than offers answers. There are few resolutions at the end, but Marson feels more grounded and even a little closer to home at least momentarily.
You can read Caroline's take on the story here. October's book is The Violin of Auschwitz by Maria Angels Anglada who is a Catalan author.