Explore "A Time to Love and a Time to Die" by Erich Maria Remarque on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THEY no longer knew one another. They could not even recognize the uniforms. Often it was only by the helmets and the voices and the language that they knew they belonged together. The trenches had long since caved in. An irregular line of shell holes and bunkers was the front. It changed constantly. There was no longer anything there but rain and uproar and night and the light of the explosions and the flying mud. The sky had fallen. Stormoviks had shattered it. Rain poured down with it the star shells and the bombs and the grenades.
Searchlights harried the torn clouds like white dogs. Antiaircraft fire shattered through the uproar of the quivering horizon. Blazing airplanes came shooting down and the golden hail of tracer bullets flew after them in a sheaf that disappeared into infinity. Parachute flares hung in indeterminate space and disappeared as though in deep water. Then the drum fire began again.