“They saw the dead hobo again. He was frozen stiff in the weeds beside the track. He was in a fetal position, trying even in death to nestle like a spoon with others. There were no others now. He was nestling with thin air and cinders. Somebody had taken his boots. His bare feet were blue and ivory. It was all right, somehow, his being dead. So it goes.”Pg. 148
I’ll be majoring in forensics over the course of my college years, and I know my career choice will put me face-to-face with corpses, death, and unfairness. It’s a decision that I decided for myself, but Billy did not choose that life. He did not choose to be thrown into war. He did not choose to witness such monstrosities. He never asked to watch his comrades be murdered, their rotting bodies left to the elements with no one to care about their lifelessness. He never asked to be starved, to be treated as if he wasn’t even human.
“Heart-breaking” seems to a word that comes to my mind a lot while reading this book.
Back in WWII, Billy and the other prisoners of war are being transported to Dresden, where they will spend their time in “Schlachthof-fünf.” Slaughterhouse-Five. Billy and the rest are told that they “needn’t worry about bombs…Dresden is an open city”(146). It’s numbly ironic.
I know the character of Billy Pilgrim is a parallel to the author Kurt Vonnegut, so reading the novel is like following the actual events of WWII. It’s like seeing everything first hand. It’s visualizing the dead bodies, blood, torture, mistreatment and all the other horrific cards that are dealt in war. It’s made me more grateful than anyone could ever know. I pray I never have to live through a war, and I pray I never have to send my son off to one.
Not too much happened this chapter. It was a fairly short chapter, too! I’m going to move onto chapter seven now! I’ll keep y’all updated. See you next post!