After relating the tale of a teacher who exhorted his students to enlist, Baumer states that "teachers always carry their feelings ready in their waistcoat pockets, and trot them out by the hour" (Remarque, All Quiet I. 15). Baumer admits that he, and others, were fooled by this rhetorical trickery. Parents, too, were not averse to using words to shame their sons into enlisting. "At that time even one's parents were ready with the word 'coward'" (Remarque, All Quiet I. 15). Remembering those days, Baumer asserts that, as a result of his war experiences, he has learned how shallow the use of these words was. Indeed, early in his enlistment, Baumer comprehends that although authority figures taught that duty to one's country is the greatest thing, we already knew that death-throes are stronger. But for all that, we were no mutineers, no deserters, no cowards--they were very free with these expressions. We loved our country as much as they; we went courageously into every action; but also we distinguished the false from true, we had suddenly learned to see. (Remarque, All Quiet I. 17) .
What Baumer and his comrades have learned is that the words and expressions used by the pillars of society do not reflect the reality of war and of one's participation in it. As the novel progresses, Baumer himself uses words in a similarly false fashion. .
A number of instances of Baumer's own misuse of language occur during an important episode in the novel--a period of leave when he visits his home town. This leave is disastrous for Baumer because he realizes that he can not communicate with the people on the home front because of his military experiences and their limited, or nonexistent, understanding of the war. .
When he first enters his house, for example, Baumer is overwhelmed at being home. His joy and relief are such that he cannot speak; he can only weep (Remarque, All Quiet VII. 140). When he and his mother greet each other, he realizes immediately that he has nothing to say to her: "We say very little and I am thankful that she asks nothing" (Remarque, All Quiet VII.
