Cautiously Paul leaves and snakes his way forward. Now "intelligent fear" and "heightened caution" are guiding him. Momentarily confused, he does not recognize the best direction. The light of the rockets keep him paralyzed and, as he describes it, "A shell crashes. . . . bombardment. . . . Machine-guns rattle." He has made his way, despite his fear, to a large crater and lies with his legs in water up to his belly. Soon the attack will start and he will pretend to be dead. Pulling out a small dagger just in case someone ends up in the hole with him, he senses that shells of his own side fall near him, making him furious that he might be killed by friendly fire. However, Paul realizes that if his own side makes a counter raid, he will be saved. Sure enough, they seem to repulse the attack.
Just as Paul is about to leave, a body falls on him in the dark. He strikes at it madly and it convulses and collapses. Wanting to leave, Paul must wait because machine-gun fire pins him down. Light increases and he can feel the wet, sticky blood on his hands. He wipes it off with mud and figures his company has given up on finding him. Morning light breaks and the body moves, a man with a small, pointed beard. Not dead, he is staring at Paul in terror, and Paul tries to reassure him by whispering, "No, no." Paul uses a handkerchief to collect water for the man and gives him a drink. Unbuttoning the man's tunic, Paul discovers three wounds and decides, as he bandages the man, that it is only a matter of time before the man dies. If he had a revolver, he would shoot the man mercifully, but he does not, so he must listen to the man's gasps for breath for hours. Around three o'clock in the afternoon, the man breathes his last breath, and the silence is worse than the groans. This is the first time Paul has killed a man in hand-to-hand combat. All is chance in war.
