Paul Baümer

November 1918.
It was a relatively normal November frosty morning for Germany, except that it was a peaceful morning. Just a couple of days ago, hostilities on the Western Front ended. Because of this, the surviving soldiers began to return home. This morning you never expected to see or meet. But while doing a little cleaning around the house, you hear a knock on the door. There was a soldier on the threshold of your house, At first he seemed unfamiliar to you, but after a while you hardly recognized your friend Paul Baümer in this exhausted creature. All that was left of that cheerful young man you remembered was a tattered shell. The eyes, once full of life and energy, were now empty and looking at an uncertain point. His freckled face had wrinkles and bags under his eyes. You also noticed streaks of gray in his curly red hair. Paul stood silently on your threshold, not daring to enter or say anything.