Chapter 19 unfolds in the music room of Werner Noth’s now-dwindling home, where a young Resi, no older than ten, sits with her dachshund on her lap. She is bundled in thick winter clothing, looking out at the walled orchard, preparing for the inevitable departure of the wagon train. This event symbolizes a harsh, cold reality devoid of warmth, leaving Resi in a state of emotional numbness. As she gazes into the orchard, her mittens are removed, and she absentmindedly pets her dog, which, due to a wartime diet, is frail, hairless, and immobile. The dog’s condition appears almost amphibious, further highlighting the desolation of the situation. Resi’s tenderness toward the dog sharply contrasts with the chilling way she acknowledges the grim circumstances that surround her, underscoring the emotional distance she has developed as a result of the horrors of war.

Previously, Resi had called the narrator an American spy, causing him discomfort around her, but now he notices something unsettling about her resemblance to his late wife, Helga. As the interaction progresses, Resi bluntly announces that it is time to kill her dog. Caught off guard, the narrator hesitates but explains that her father had asked him to perform the deed. What is most disturbing is Resi’s calm acceptance of the situation; she shows no emotion or regret, almost as if the idea of death has become mundane. The chilling nature of the conversation is marked by the detachment Resi exhibits as she contemplates the end of her pet’s life. This casual attitude towards such violence exposes the harrowing effects war has had on the innocence of a child, whose understanding of death is far too pragmatic for her age.

As the conversation continues, it becomes evident that Resi has already accepted the idea of death itself. She anticipates her own demise with unsettling calm, expressing a belief that nothing truly hurts when one ceases to exist. Her unsettling outlook on life and death is further highlighted when she confesses that she had never really liked her dog and believes it will be better off dead. This cold reasoning contrasts sharply with the emotional detachment she exhibits when confessing a sudden and disturbing admiration for the narrator. This moment, particularly the connection she makes with him, adds an eerie weight to the conversation, as Resi appears to be trying to find some kind of human connection in an environment overwhelmed by loss. Her fixation on a bleak, uncertain future is both poignant and chilling, as she seems to view death as simply another mundane event in a world that no longer offers hope.

The tension escalates when the narrator, after this unsettling conversation, decides to carry out the task Resi has set before him. He takes the dog outside into the snow-covered orchard, preparing to shoot it with a small pistol. The cold, indifferent nature of the setting adds to the cruelty of the act, and the silence that follows as Resi and others watch only serves to deepen the emotional weight of the moment. In a disturbing turn, an old soldier present shows a morbid curiosity toward the act, illustrating how war desensitizes people to the loss of life, making acts of violence seem almost routine. When the dog dies quietly, the reality of the situation becomes grotesque, forcing the narrator to consider whether a burial is necessary, wondering if leaving it to the elements would be just as fitting. This chapter starkly portrays the loss of innocence, the normalization of brutality in times of war, and the disconcerting acceptance of death, whether human or animal. Through the lens of a child’s detachment and the narrator’s reluctant participation, the narrative explores how war erodes emotional connection and numbs individuals to the sanctity of life.