In Another Country

“In the fall the war was always there, but we did not go to it any more.”

The reader does not have to wait long before the author reveals the two “countries” in his title. The first line of the story explains that the war was there but “we” didn’t go there. We have moved somewhere else, to another country, and he is going to talk about that country now.

“The doctor came up to the machine where I was sitting and said: ‘What did you like best to do before the war? Did you practice a sport?’

I said: ‘Yes, football.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘You will be able to play football again better than ever.’”

The doctor engages with the American narrator to try to make sure he has a positive attitude toward the machines. The doctor wants the patient to believe it will work, and this exchange seems to have gone pretty well. It is probably true because the narrator’s leg has not been totally destroyed.

“The major held the photograph with his good hand and looked at it very carefully. ‘A wound?’ he asked.

‘An industrial accident,’ the doctor said.

‘Very interesting, very interesting,’ the major said, and handed it back to the doctor.

‘You have confidence?’

‘No,’ said the major.”

The doctor has continued on to the next machine to encourage the major. This time the outcome is not as successful as in the previous quote because the major’s hand is very disfigured. The major is not cajoled into becoming optimistic about it. He responds with the simple truth that he does not believe the machines will work for him.

“The people hated us because we were officers, and from a wine-shop some one called out, ‘A basso gli ufficiali!’ as we passed.”

The people hated the war, the politicians who caused it, and the generals who lead troops to their doom. The officers were distrusted because they ordered the men into battle, and perhaps did not even go forward themselves. Hemingway did not translate the taunt, which makes it seem like something that came from the mouth of an Italian. It means ‘‘Down with officers,” or “To hell with the officers.”

“We only knew then that there was always the war, but that we were not going to it any more.”

This is an example of repetition used to intensify the message that the action and characters have left one country (the war) and are now “in another country” (being rehabilitated in Milan). The words are a version of those used in the first sentence of the story and reflect the same thought as the title of the story.

“The tall boy with a very pale face who was to be a lawyer had been a lieutenant of Arditi and had three medals of the sort we each had only one of. He had lived a very long time with death and was a little detached.”

Hemingway omits a great deal, but the reader has clues to put together a picture of the young man if the reader is willing to work it out. The boy is well educated (since he is perhaps pale from studying and wants to be a lawyer). He also is an officer and not a common soldier. The best clue requires research because his unit is called Arditi in Italian. English readers might not know this word means “the daring ones” and refers to commandoes who would sprint to the enemy trenches, throw in grenades, and then jump in to fight hand-to-hand to the death. The Arditi had very high casualties, and this young lieutenant has been medaled three times. It is no wonder he is “detached” toward the American narrator.

“We felt held together by there being something that had happened that they, the people who disliked us, did not understand.”

Even though there are differences between the soldiers, they are united by the fact that they are officers wounded in battle. That is enough to make them at least half-like each other, and so they will show a united front toward the people who do not like them. After all, those people did not have the experience of war.

“The girls at the Cova were very patriotic, and I found that the most patriotic people in Italy were the café girls—and I believe they are still patriotic.”

A veteran of the Napoleonic Wars founded Café Cova in 1817, and in times of trouble and war, it always welcomed soldiers. The narrator may imply that interacting with the young women at the café could lead to more than conversation. The term “patriotic” seems literal rather than being a euphemism for promiscuity, yet the narrator’s clipped and spare manner of expression makes interpretation difficult. Readers are left to wonder why “café girls” should be unusually patriotic and how they expressed that patriotism to the soldiers. Café Cova moved from its spacious location next to the opera house in Milan in 1950, but it is still in operation.

“The boys at first were very polite about my medals and asked me what I had done to get them. I showed them the papers, which were written in very beautiful language and full of fratellanza and abnegazione, but which really said, with the adjectives removed, that I had been given the medals because I was an American. After that their manner changed a little toward me, although I was their friend against outsiders.”

It is telling that the narrator had his citation papers with him in the café as if he planned to share them. The Arditi’s medals were clearly for valor and bravery under fire. When the citation’s Italian words are translated, one learns the narrator’s citation talks about “feelings of brotherhood” and the “selflessness” of coming to join the Italians in their fight. The Italians do not dislike him, but his bravery seems less distinguished than theirs, so their attitude changes somewhat.

“I was never ashamed of the ribbons, though, and sometimes after the cocktail hour, I would imagine myself having done all the things they had done to get their medals; but walking home at night through the empty streets with the cold wind and all the shops closed, trying to keep near the street lights, I knew that I would never have done such things, and I was very much afraid to die, and often lay in bed at night by myself, afraid to die and wondering how I would be when I went back to the front again.”

Hemingway employs a technique close to a “stream of consciousness,” with thoughts flying unfiltered through the mind of the narrator after he has had a few drinks and goes home to bed. It is a long single sentence. (By contrast, the opening paragraph of the story is about the same length, but it contains six sentences.) This passage reads as an uncontrolled outpouring of emotional thoughts by the narrator.

“The three with medals were like hunting-hawks; and I was not a hawk, although I might seem a hawk to those who had never hunted.”

The officers in Milan won metals by fighting aggressively against the enemy. They were like hawks swooping down from the sky on their prey. If the narrator had the same experience as the young Hemingway (readers are not told exactly how the narrator was wounded), he might have been hit by fragments from an exploding artillery shell. That would not make him a hawk. Those who had never been in battle might not know the difference, but the narrator does.

“‘Are you married?’

‘No, but I hope to be.’

‘The more of a fool you are,’ he said. He seemed very angry. ‘A man must not marry.’

‘Why, Signor Maggiore?’

‘Don’t call me “Signor Maggiore.’’’

‘Why must not a man marry?’

‘He cannot marry. He cannot marry,’ he said angrily. ‘If he is to lose everything, he should not place himself in a position to lose that. He should not place himself in a position to lose. He should find things he cannot lose.’”

This is the climax of the story, where it becomes clear that Hemingway is writing not only about war but also about marriage. He was writing the story as his first marriage was breaking up, and he was upset, even though he was the one who decided to leave. Rather than describe what happens, Hemingway lets the scene unfold through dialogue so the reader can hear what is said at the moment of crisis. The author uses repetition to add intensity to the conversation.

“‘I am utterly unable to resign myself,’ he said and choked. And then crying, his head looking up at nothing, carrying himself straight and soldierly, with tears on both his cheeks and biting his lips, he walked past the machines and out the door.”

If the story were made into a movie, these lines would give both the dialogue and the stage directions to the actor. This battle-hardened great fencer is crying. Finally, he turns and walks away because he cannot say anymore. Hemingway’s iceberg technique reaches an apex at which dialogue and commentary cease, and the meaning of the passage is conveyed by the mere act of walking “out the door.”