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Selected by the Modern Library as one of the 100 best novels of all time

, an American classic, is one of the world’s great antiwar books. Centering on the infamous firebombing of Dresden, Billy Pilgrim’s odyssey through time reflects the mythic journey of our own fractured lives as we search for meaning in what we fear most.


Chapter One

All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true. One guy I knew really was shot in Dresden for taking a teapot that wasn't his. Another guy I knew really did threaten to have his personal enemies killed by hired gunmen after the war. And so on. I've changed all the names.

I really did go back to Dresden with Guggenheim money (God love it) in 1967. It looked a lot like Dayton, Ohio, more open spaces than Dayton has. There must be tons of human bone meal in the ground.

I went back there with an old war buddy, Bernard V. O'Hare, and we made friends with a cab driver, who took us to the slaughterhouse where we had been locked up at night as prisoners of war. His name was Gerhard Müller. He told us that he was a prisoner of the Americans for a while. We asked him how it was to live under Communism, and he said that it was terrible at first, because everybody had to work so hard, and because there wasn't much shelter or food or clothing. But things were much better now. He had a pleasant little apartment, and his daughter was getting an excellent education. His mother was incinerated in the Dresden fire-storm. So it goes.

He sent O'Hare a postcard at Christmastime, and here is what it said:

"I wish you and your family also as to your friend Merry Christmas and a happy New Year and I hope that we'll meet again in a world of peace and freedom in the taxi cab if the accident will."

I like that very much: "If the accident will."

I would hate to tell you what this lousy little book cost me in money and anxiety and time. When I got home from the Second World War twenty-three years ago, I thought it would be easy for me to write about the destruction of Dresden, since all I would have to do would be to report what I had seen. And I thought, too, that it would be a masterpiece or at least make me a lot of money, since the subject was so big.

But not many words about Dresden came from my mind then -- not enough of them to make a book, anyway. And not many words come now, either, when I have become an old fart with his memories and his Pall Malls, with his sons full grown.

I think of how useless the Dresden part of my memory has been, and yet how tempting Dresden has been to write about, and I am reminded of the famous limerick:

There was a young man from Stamboul, Who soliloquized thus to his tool: "You took all my wealth And you ruined my health, And now you won't pee, you old fool."

And I'm reminded, too, of the song that goes:

My name is Yon Yonson, I work in Wisconsin, I work in a lumbermill there. The people I meet when I walk down the street, They say, "What's your name?" And I say, My name is Yon Yonson, I work in Wisconsin..."

And so on to infinity.

Over the years, people I've met have often asked me what I'm working on, and I've usually replied that the main thing was a book about Dresden.

I said that to Harrison Starr, the movie-maker, one time, and he raised his eyebrows and inquired, "Is it an anti-war book?"

"Yes," I said. "I guess."

"You know what I say to people when I hear they're writing anti-war books?"

"No. What do you say, Harrison Starr?"

"I say, 'Why don't you write an anti-glacier book instead?' "

What he meant, of course, was that there would always be wars, that they were as easy to stop as glaciers. I believe that, too.

And even if wars didn't keep coming like glaciers, there would still be plain old death.

When I was somewhat younger, working on my famous Dresden book, I asked an old war buddy named Bernard V. O'Hare if I could come to see him. He was a district attorney in Pennsylvania. I was a writer on Cape Cod. We had been privates in the war, infantry scouts. We had never expected to make any money after the war, but we were doing quite well.

I had the Bell Telephone Company find him for me. They are wonderful that way. I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone. I get drunk, and I drive my wife away with a breath like mustard gas and roses. And then, speaking gravely and elegantly into the telephone, I ask the telephone operators to connect me with this friend or that one, from whom I have not heard in years.

I got O'Hare on the line in this way. He is short and I am tall. We were Mutt and Jeff in the war. We were captured together in the war. I told him who I was on the telephone. He had no trouble believing it. He was up. He was reading. Everybody else in his house was asleep.

"Listen--" I said, "I'm writing this book about Dresden. I'd like some help remembering stuff. I wonder if I could come down and see you, and we could drink and talk and remember."

He was unenthusiastic. He said he couldn't remember much. He told me, though, to come ahead.

"I think the climax of the book will be the execution of poor old Edgar Derby," I said. "The irony is so great. A whole city gets burned down, and thousands and thousands of people are killed. And then this one American foot soldier is arrested in the ruins for taking a teapot. And he's given a regular trial, and then he's shot by a firing squad."

"Um," said O'Hare.

"Don't you think that's really where the climax should come?"

"I don't know anything about it," he said. "That's your trade, not mine."

As a trafficker in climaxes and thrills and characterization and wonderful dialogue and suspense and confrontations, I had outlined the Dresden story many times. The best outline I ever made, or anyway the prettiest one, was on the back of a roll of wallpaper.

I used my daughter's crayons, a different color for each main character. One end of the wallpaper was the beginning of the story, and the other end was the end, and then there was all that middle part, which was the middle. And the blue line met the red line and then the yellow line, and the yellow line stopped because the character represented by the yellow line was dead. And so on. The destruction of Dresden was represented by a vertical band of orange cross-hatching, and all the lines that were still alive passed through it, came out the other side.

The end, where all the lines stopped, was a beetfield on the Elbe, outside of Halle. The rain was coming down. The war in Europe had been over for a couple of weeks. We were formed in ranks, with Russian soldiers guarding us -- Englishmen, Americans, Dutchmen, Belgians, Frenchmen, Canadians, South Africans, New Zealanders, Australians, thousands of us about to stop being prisoners of war.

And on the other side of the field were thousands of Russians and Poles and Yugoslavians and so on guarded by American soldiers. An exchange was made there in the rain -- one for one. O'Hare and I climbed into the back of an American truck with a lot of others. O'Hare didn't have any souvenirs. Almost everybody else did. I had a ceremonial Luftwaffe saber, still do. The rabid little American I call Paul Lazzaro in this book had about a quart of diamonds and emeralds and rubies and so on. He had taken these from dead people in the cellars of Dresden. So it goes.

An idiotic Englishman, who had lost all his teeth somewhere, had his souvenir in a canvas bag. The bag was resting on my insteps. He would peek into the bag every now and then, and he would roll his eyes and swivel his scrawny neck, trying to catch people looking covetously at his bag. And he would bounce the bag on my insteps.

I thought this bouncing was accidental. But I was mistaken. He had to show somebody what was in the bag, and he had decided he could trust me. He caught my eye, winked, opened the bag. There was a plaster model of the Eiffel Tower in there. It was painted gold. It had a clock in it.

"There's a smashin' thing," he said.

And we were flown to a rest camp in France, where we were fed chocolate malted milkshakes and other rich foods until we were all covered with baby fat. Then we were sent home, and I married a pretty girl who was covered with baby fat, too.

And we had babies.

And they're all grown up now, and I'm an old fart with his memories and his Pall Malls. My name is Yon Yonson, I work in Wisconsin, I work in a lumbermill there.

Sometimes I try to call up old girl friends on the telephone late at night, after my wife has gone to bed. "Operator, I wonder if you could give me the number of a Mrs. So-and-So. I think she lives at such-and-such."

"I'm sorry, sir. There is no such listing."

"Thanks, Operator. Thanks just the same."

And I let the dog out, or I let him in, and we talk some. I let him know I like him, and he lets me know he likes me. He doesn't mind the smell of mustard gas and roses.

"You're all right, Sandy," I'll say to the dog. "You know that, Sandy? You're O.K."

Sometimes I'll turn on the radio and listen to a talk program from Boston or New York. I can't stand recorded music if I've been drinking a good deal.

Sooner or later I go to bed, and my wife asks me what time it is. She always has to know the time. Sometimes I don't know, and I say, "Search me."

I think about my education sometimes. I went to the University of Chicago for a while after the Second World War. I was a student in the Department of Anthropology. At that time, they were teaching that there was absolutely no difference between anybody. They may be teaching that still.

Another thing they taught was that nobody was ridiculous or bad or disgusting. Shortly before my father died, he said to me, "You know -- you never wrote a story with a villain in it."

I told him that was one of the things I learned in college after the war.

While I was studying to be an anthropologist, I was also working as a police reporter for the famous Chicago City News Bureau for twenty-eight dollars a week. One time they switched me from the night shift to the day shift, so I worked sixteen hours straight. We were supported by all the newspapers in town, and the AP and the UP and all that. And we would cover the courts and the police stations and the Fire Department and the Coast Guard out on Lake Michigan and all that. We were connected to the institutions that supported us by means of pneumatic tubes which ran under the streets of Chicago.

Reporters would telephone in stories to writers wearing headphones, and the writers would stencil the stories on mimeograph sheets. The stories were mimeographed and stuffed into the brass and velvet cartridges which the pneumatic tubes ate. The very toughest reporters and writers were women who had taken over the jobs of men who'd gone to war.

And the first story I covered I had to dictate over the telephone to one of those beastly girls. It was about a young veteran who had taken a job running an old-fashioned elevator in an office building. The elevator door on the first floor was ornamental iron lace. Iron ivy snaked in and out of the holes. There was an iron twig with two iron lovebirds perched upon it.

This veteran decided to take his car into the basement, and he closed the door and started down, but his wedding ring was caught in all the ornaments. So he was hoisted into the air and the floor of the car went down, dropped out from under him, and the top of the car squashed him. So it goes.

So I phoned this in, and the woman who was going to cut the stencil asked me, "What did his wife say?"

"She doesn't know yet," I said. "It just happened."

"Call her up and get a statement."


"Tell her you're Captain Finn of the Police Department. Say you have some sad news. Give her the news, and see what she says."

So I did. She said about what you would expect her to say. There was a baby. And so on.

When I got back to the office, the woman writer asked me, just for her own information, what the squashed guy had looked like when he was squashed.

I told her.

"Did it bother you?" she said. She was eating a Three Musketeers Candy Bar.

"Heck no, Nancy," I said. "I've seen lots worse than that in the war."

Even then I was supposedly writing a book about Dresden. It wasn't a famous air raid back then in America. Not many Americans knew how much worse it had been than Hiroshima, for instance. I didn't know that, either. There hadn't been much publicity.

I happened to tell a University of Chicago professor at a cocktail party about the raid as I had seen it, about the book I would write. He was a member of a thing called The Committee on Social Thought. And he told me about the concentration camps, and about how the Germans had made soap and candles out of the fat of dead Jews and so on.

All I could say was, "I know, I know. I know."

World War Two had certainly made everybody very tough. And I became a public relations man for General Electric in Schenectady, New York, and a volunteer fireman in the village of Alplaus, where I bought my first home. My boss there was one of the toughest guys I ever hope to meet. He had been a lieutenant colonel in public relations in Baltimore. While I was in Schenectady he joined the Dutch Reformed Church, which is a very tough church, indeed.

He used to ask me sneeringly sometimes why I hadn't been an officer, as though I'd done something wrong.

My wife and I had lost our baby fat. Those were our scrawny years. We had a lot of scrawny veterans and their scrawny wives for friends. The nicest veterans in Schenectady, I thought, the kindest and funniest ones, the ones who hated war the most, were the ones who'd really fought.

I wrote the Air Force back then, asking for details about the raid on Dresden, who ordered it, how many planes did it, why they did it, what desirable results there had been and so on. I was answered by a man who, like myself, was in public relations. He said that he was sorry, but that the information was top secret still.

I read the letter out loud to my wife, and I said, "Secret? My God -- from whom?"

We were United World Federalists back then. I don't know what we are now. Telephoners, I guess. We telephone a lot -- or I do, anyway, late at night.

A couple of weeks after I telephoned my old war buddy, Bernard V. O'Hare, I really did go to see him. That must have been in 1964 or so -- whatever the last year was for the New York World's Fair. Eheu, fugaces labuntur anni. My name is Yon Yonson. There was a young man from Stamboul.

I took two little girls with me, my daughter, Nanny, and her best friend, Allison Mitchell. They had never been off Cape Cod before. When we saw a river, we had to stop so they could stand by it and think about it for a while. They had never seen water in that long and narrow, unsalted form before. The river was the Hudson. There were carp in there and we saw them. They were as big as atomic submarines.

We saw waterfalls, too, streams jumping off cliffs into the valley of the Delaware. There were lots of things to stop and see -- and then it was time to go, always time to go. The little girls were wearing white party dresses and black party shoes, so strangers would know at once how nice they were. "Time to go, girls," I'd say. And we would go.

And the sun went down, and we had supper in an Italian place, and then I knocked on the front door of the beautiful stone house of Bernard V. O'Hare. I was carrying a bottle of Irish whiskey like a dinner bell.

I met his nice wife, Mary, to whom I dedicate this book. I dedicate it to Gerhard Müller, the Dresden taxi driver, too. Mary O'Hare is a trained nurse, which is a lovely thing for a woman to be.

Mary admired the two little girls I'd brought, mixed them in with her own children, sent them all upstairs to play games and watch television. It was only after the children were gone that I sensed that Mary didn't like me or didn't like something about the night. She was polite but chilly.

"It's a nice cozy house you have here," I said, and it really was.

"I've fixed up a place where you can talk and not be bothered," she said.

"Good," I said, and I imagined two leather chairs near a fire in a paneled room, where two old soldiers could drink and talk. But she took us into the kitchen. She had put two straight-backed chairs at a kitchen table with a white porcelain top. That table top was screaming with reflected light from a two-hundred-watt bulb overhead. Mary had prepared an operating room. She put only one glass on it, which was for me. She explained that O'Hare couldn't drink the hard stuff since the war.

So we sat down. O'Hare was embarrassed, but he wouldn't tell me what was wrong. I couldn't imagine what it was about me that could burn up Mary so. I was a family man. I'd been married only once. I wasn't a drunk. I hadn't done her husband any dirt in the war.

She fixed herself a Coca-Cola, made a lot of noise banging the ice-cube tray in the stainless steel sink. Then she went into another part of the house. But she wouldn't sit still. She was moving all over the house, opening and shutting doors, even moving furniture around to work off anger.

I asked O'Hare what I'd said or done to make her act that way.

"It's all right," he said. "Don't worry about it. It doesn't have anything to do with you." That was kind of him. He was lying. It had everything to do with me.

So we tried to ignore Mary and remember the war. I took a couple of belts of the booze I'd brought. We would chuckle or grin sometimes, as though war stories were coming back, but neither one of us could remember anything good. O'Hare remembered one guy who got into a lot of wine in Dresden, before it was bombed, and we had to take him home in a wheelbarrow. It wasn't much to write a book about. I remembered two Russian soldiers who had looted a clock factory. They had a horse-drawn wagon full of clocks. They were happy and drunk. They were smoking huge cigarettes they had rolled in newspaper.

was about it for memories, and Mary was still making noise. She finally came out in the kitchen again for another Coke. She took another tray of ice cubes from the refrigerator, banged it in the sink, even though there was already plenty of ice out.

Then she turned to me, let me see how angry she was, and that the anger was for me. She had been talking to herself, so what she said was a fragment of a much larger conversation. "You were just babies then!" she said.

"What?" I said.

"You were just babies in the war -- like the ones upstairs!"

I nodded that this was true. We had been foolish virgins in the war, right at the end of childhood.

"But you're not going to write it that way, are you." This wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

"I -- I don't know," I said.

"Well, I know," she said. "You'll pretend you were men instead of babies, and you'll be played in the movies by Frank Sinatra and John Wayne or some of those other glamorous, war-loving, dirty old men. And war will look just wonderful, so we'll have a lot more of them. And they'll be fought by babies like the babies upstairs."

So then I understood. It was war that made her so angry. She didn't want her babies or anybody else's babies killed in wars. And she thought wars were partly encouraged by books and movies.

So I held up my right hand and I made her a promise: "Mary," I said, "I don't think this book of mine is ever going to be finished. I must have written five thousand pages by now, and thrown them all away. If I ever do finish it, though, I give you my word of honor: there won't be a part for Frank Sinatra or John Wayne.

"I tell you what," I said, "I'll call it 'The Children's Crusade.' "

She was my friend after that.

O'Hare and I gave up on remembering, went into the living room, talked about other things. We became curious about the real Children's Crusade, so O'Hare looked it up in a book he had, Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds, by Charles Mackay, LL. D. It was first published in London in 1841.

Mackay had a low opinion of all Crusades. The Children's Crusade struck him as only slightly more sordid than the ten Crusades for grown-ups. O'Hare read this handsome passage out loud:

History in her solemn page informs us that the crusaders were but ignorant and savage men, that their motives were those of bigotry unmitigated, and that their pathway was one of blood and tears. Romance, on the other hand, dilates upon their piety and heroism, and portrays, in her most glowing and impassioned hues, their virtue and magnanimity, the imperishable honor they acquired for themselves, and the great services they rendered to Christianity.

And then O'Hare read this: Now what was the grand result of all these struggles? Europe expended millions of her treasures, and the blood of two million of her people; and a handful of quarrelsome knights retained possession of Palestine for about one hundred years!

Mackay told us that the Children's Crusade started in 1213, when two monks got the idea of raising armies of children in Germany and France, and selling them in North Africa as slaves. Thirty thousand children volunteered, thinking they were going to Palestine. They were no doubt idle and deserted children who generally swarm in great cities, nurtured on vice and daring, said Mackay, and ready for anything.

Pope Innocent the Third thought they were going to Palestine, too, and he was thrilled. "These children are awake while we are asleep!" he said.
Most of the children were shipped out of Marseilles, and about half of them drowned in shipwrecks. The other half got to North Africa where they were sold.

Through a misunderstanding, some children reported for duty at Genoa, where no slave ships were waiting. They were fed and sheltered and questioned kindly by good people there -- then given a little money and a lot of advice and sent back home.

"Hooray for the good people of Genoa," said Mary O'Hare.

I slept that night in one of the children's bedrooms. O'Hare had put a book for me on the bedside table. It was Dresden, History, Stage and Gallery, by Mary Endell. It was published in 1908, and its introduction began:

It is hoped that this little book will make itself useful. It attempts to give to an English-reading public a bird's-eye view of how Dresden came to look as it does, architecturally; of how it expanded musically, through the genius of a few men, to its present bloom; and it calls attention to certain permanent landmarks in art that make its Gallery the resort of those seeking lasting impressions.

I read some history further on:

Now, in 1760, Dresden underwent siege by the Prussians. On the fifteenth of July began the cannonade. The Picture-Gallery took fire. Many of the paintings had been transported to the Königstein, but some were seriously injured by splinters of bombshells,
-- notably Francia's "Baptism of Christ." Furthermore, the stately Kreuzkirche tower, from which the enemy's movements had been watched day and night, stood in flames. It later succumbed. In sturdy contrast with the pitiful fate of the Kreuzkirche, stood the Frauenkirche, from the curves of whose stone dome the Prussian bombs rebounded like rain. Friederich was obliged finally to give up the siege, because he learned of the fall of Glatz, the critical point of his new conquests. "We must be off to Silesia, so that we do not lose everything."

The devastation of Dresden was boundless. When Goethe as a young student visited the city, he still found sad ruins: "Von der Kuppel der Frauenkirche sah ich diese leidigen Trümmer zwischen die schöne städtische Ordnung hineingesät; da rühmte mir der Küster die Kunst des Baumeisters, welcher Kirche und Kuppel auf einen so unerwünschten Fall schon eingerichtet und bombenfesterbaut hatte. Der gute Sakristan deutete mir alsdann auf Ruinene nach allen Seiten und sagte bedenklich lakonisch: Das hat der Feind gethan!"

The two little girls and I crossed the Delaware River where George Washington had crossed it, the next morning. We went to the New York World's Fair, saw what the past had been like, according to the Ford Motor Car Company and Walt Disney, saw what the future would be like, according to General Motors.

And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.

I taught creative writing in the famous Writers Workshop at the University of Iowa for a couple of years after that. I got into some perfectly beautiful trouble, got out of it again. I taught in the afternoons. In the mornings I wrote. I was not to be disturbed. I was working on my famous book about Dresden.

And somewhere in there a nice man named Seymour Lawrence gave me a three-book contract, and I said, "O.K., the first of the three will be my famous book about Dresden."

The friends of Seymour Lawrence call him "Sam." And I say to Sam now: "Sam -- here's the book."

It is so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds.

And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like "Poo-tee-weet?"

I have told my sons that they are not under any circumstances to take part in massacres, and that the news of massacres of enemies is not to fill them with satisfaction or glee.

I have also told them not to work for companies which make massacre machinery, and to express contempt for people who think we need machinery like that.

As I've said: I recently went back to Dresden with my friend O'Hare. We had a million laughs in Hamburg and West Berlin and East Berlin and Vienna and Salzburg and Helsinki, and in Leningrad, too. It was very good for me, because I saw a lot of authentic backgrounds for made-up stories which I will write later on. One of them will be "Russian Baroque" and another will be "No Kissing" and another will be "Dollar Bar" and another will be "If the Accident Will," and so on.

And so on.

There was a Lufthansa plane that was supposed to fly from Philadelphia to Boston to Frankfurt. O'Hare was supposed to get on in Philadelphia and I was supposed to get on in Boston, and off we'd go. But Boston was socked in, so the plane flew straight to Frankfurt from Philadelphia. And I became a non-person in the Boston fog, and Lufthansa put me in a limousine with some other non-persons and sent us to a motel for a non-night.

The time would not pass. Somebody was playing with the clocks, and not only with the electric clocks, but the wind-up kind, too. The second hand on my watch would twitch once, and a year would pass, and then it would twitch again.

There was nothing I could do about it. As an Earthling, I had to believe whatever clocks said -- and calendars.

I had two books with me, which I'd meant to read on the plane. One was Words for the Wind, by Theodore Roethke, and this is what I found in there:

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go.

My other book was Erika Ostrovsky's Céline and His Vision. Céline was a brave French soldier in the First World War -- until his skull was cracked. After that he couldn't sleep, and there were noises in his head. He became a doctor, and he treated poor people in the daytime, and he wrote grotesque novels all night. No art is possible without a dance with death, he wrote.

The truth is death, he wrote. I've fought nicely against it as long as I could... danced with it, festooned it, waltzed it around... decorated it with streamers, titillated it...

Time obsessed him. Miss Ostrovsky reminded me of the amazing scene in Death on the Installment Plan where Céline wants to stop the bustling of a street crowd. He screams on paper, Make them stop... don't let them move anymore at all... There, make them freeze... once and for all!... So that they won't disappear anymore!

I looked through the Gideon Bible in my motel room for tales of great destruction. The sun was risen upon the Earth when Lot entered into Zo-ar, I read. Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of Heaven; and He overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground.

So it goes.

Those were vile people in both those cities, as is well known. The world was better off without them.

And Lot's wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human.

So she was turned to a pillar of salt. So it goes.

People aren't supposed to look back. I'm certainly not going to do it anymore.

I've finished my war book now. The next one I write is going to be fun.

This one is a failure, and had to be, since it was written by a pillar of salt. It begins like this:


Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time.

It ends like this:

Kurt Vonnegut

About Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut - Slaughterhouse-Five

Photo © Rosemary Carroll

Kurt Vonnegut was a master of contemporary American literature. His black humor, satiric voice, and incomparable imagination first captured America’s attention in The Sirens of Titan in 1959 and established him, in the words of The New York Times, as “a true artist” with the publication of Cat’s Cradle in 1963. He was, as Graham Greene declared, “one of the best living American writers.” Mr. Vonnegut passed away in April 2007.


“Poignant and hilarious, threaded with compassion and, behind everything, the cataract of a thundering moral statement.”—Boston Globe

Very tough and very funny . . . sad and delightful . . . very Vonnegut.”—New York Times

“Splendid art . . . a funny book at which you are not permitted to laugh, a sad book without tears.”—Life
Teachers Guide

Teacher's Guide


Note to Teachers

Slaughterhouse-Five is the semi-autobiographical account of the fire bombing of Dresden, Germany by the British and American air forces in the February of 1945. The destruction of this non-military city so late in the war is still very controversial, and that controversy is central to Vonnegut’s book.

Historical Background
By February of 1945, Dresden was one of the few major German cities that had not been bombed in the Allied campaign to break German morale by targeting entire cities and towns. It had become a major refuge for civilians fleeing the advance of the Soviet Army across Eastern Europe. It was also the home of American POWs who, like Vonnegut, had been captured during the Battle of the Bulge. Although there were no obvious military targets in Dresden, allied commanders later suggested that the city was an important communications link between the German armies in eastern and western Europe. Critics of the raid maintain that the lack of military significance and the inflated population were reasons not to target Dresden. Some historians suggest that the fire-bombing of Dresden was ordered as revenge for the V-2 rocket attacks on London late in the war.

The raid was carried out over three days, with the Royal Air Force leading the first wave with incendiary bombs that created a firestorm in the city. Over the next two days, the American Air Force followed up with strafing raids on the survivors. No accurate casualty reports exist because of the firestorm, but estimates range from a low of thirty-five thousand deaths (the figure offered by the Allies) to over one hundred thousand (the figure offered by the Germans). Regardless of the actual number of casualties, the firebombing of Dresden obviously ranks with the atomic attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki as atrocities of World War II.

About the Book
Published at the height of the Vietnam War in 1969, Slaughterhouse-Five is considered by many critics to be Vonnegut’s greatest work. It includes all of the elements that readers expect from Vonnegut: humor, satire, social criticism, and pacifism. The novel is the result of what Vonnegut describes as a twenty-three year struggle to write a book about the firebombing of Dresden, Germany which he witnessed as an American POW incarcerated in a former slaughterhouse. Perhaps not surprisingly, Vonnegut emerged from the experience an avowed pacifist.

Students who are unfamiliar with Vonnegut’s work may find the format of the novel a bit disconcerting. Vonnegut combines science fiction, autobiography, historical fiction, and modern satire in a “jumbled” depiction of the life of Billy Pilgrim. Billy, like Vonnegut, experiences the destruction of Dresden, and, as with Vonnegut, it is the defining moment of his life. Unlike the author, he also experiences time travel or coming “unstuck in time,” and abduction by aliens from the planet Tralfamadore. Because of Billy’s unique view of time, the story is told through a seemingly random recounting of the events of Billy’s life. Thus, the reader comes “unstuck in time” along with Billy.

In 1969, the United States was reeling from the growing violence of the anti-war and civil rights movements. The country had witnessed the assassination of two leaders who were considered icons of peace and hope for a better society, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy. It is not surprising that in this atmosphere, Vonnegut’s novel gained an almost cult-like following among the generation that rejected what it saw as the materialism and shallowness of American society. Billy Pilgrim’s apparent acceptance of fate–he responds to every mention of death with the phrase “so it goes”–actually illustrates Vonnegut’s opposition to blind acceptance of socially acceptable cruelty. This opposition is ilustrated in his depiction of the massacre at Dresden, and in Barbara’s joy in stripping her father of his dignity “in the name of love.”

Slaughterhouse-Five remains an effective indictment of the least attractive characteristics of human society. Ultimately, Vonnegut’s criticisms are still valid in the twenty-first century.

About the Author
Kurt Vonnegut was a self-described “fourth-generation German-American…who…witnessed the fire-bombing of Dresden, Germany…and survived to tell the tale.” He was a member of what Tom Brokaw has immortalized as “the greatest generation” who experienced childhood during the Great Depression, young adulthood during World War II, and who saw its values challenged in the Sixties and Seventies.

Vonnegut was born in 1922 in Indianapolis, Indiana. His family suffered financial losses during the Depression, a fact that led to his mother’s eventual suicide. While a student, he wrote for both his high school and college newspapers. He attended Cornell University and the Carnegie Institute of Technology (Carnegie-Mellon), before enlisting in the army. In 1944, he was captured at the Battle of Bulge and imprisoned in Dresden, Germany. In February of 1945, the Allies bombed the city of Dresden, destroying most of the city and killing tens of thousands.

After the war, Vonnegut married and worked in journalism and public relations. His first works were published in the 1950s, but were dismissed as lightweight science fiction. He finally achieved critical acclaim with the publication of Cat’s Cradle, God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater, and Slaughterhouse-Five in the 1960s. The anti-war themes of Vonnegut’s work made him particularly popular with the counter-culture movement of the Vietnam Era.

Vonnegut’s last book, a collection of autobiographical essays entitled A Man Without A Country, was published in 2005.

He died due to injuries from a fall in 2007.

Teaching Ideas
Slaughterhouse-Five is appropriate for study in high school or college English, creative writing, or history classes. In any genre-based English class, the novel can be used as an example of the use of plot, character, and setting to communicate the theme. The text can also be useful in a study of literary techniques such as irony and satire. Obviously, the novel would be appropriate in American literature classes as an example of modern American literature and a reflection of the historical context in which the work was produced.

Students of the art of writing can benefit from an analysis of the mechanics of Slaughterhouse-Five. Vonnegut’s use of repetition, humor, and vernacular give his work a unique flavor. The style in which the book is written, moving from one time and place to another with no apparent organization, illustrates the view of time that Vonnegut seeks to present. Vonnegut also introduces many new techniques in his writing that no doubt influence other writers.

Students of history can also benefit from the historical aspects of the novel. Although it is disjointed, Slaughterhouse-Five provides a realistic account of the experiences of an American POW and the devastation of the fire-bombing of Dresden, a seldom studied aspect of World War II. It is also a reflection of the social attitudes of the Vietnam era in which it was written. Slaughterhouse-Five can legitimately be used in a study of the authenticity of historical novels.

Because of the liberal use of mature language, sexual situations, and violence, Slaughterhouse-Five should be studied by older high school or college students.

Discussion and Writing

Chapter 1

The author discusses the false starts and dead ends that he experienced in his twenty-three year struggle to write a book about the fire bombing of Dresden which he experienced as a prisoner of the Germans at the end of World War II.
Identify vocabulary — Guggenheim money
Identify characters — author, Bernard V. O’Hare, Gerhard Muller, Harrison Starr, Edgar Derby, Paul Lazzaro, Mary O’Hare
1.What aspects of the book does the author insist really happened?
2.How did the author find O’Hare?
3.What souvenirs does he recall the American POWs bringing out of Germany?
4.What does the author do to entertain himself late at night? Why can’t he sleep?
5.What did the author learn in college after the war?
6.What jobs did the author have after the war?
7.What fatal accident did he cover?
8.What difference does the author see in the veterans who “really fought” and the veterans who had office jobs? Why do you think this difference exists?
9.What response does the author get when he tries to get information about the Dresden raid from the Air Force?
10.Who originally said, “Eheu, fugaces labuntur anni”? What does this phrase mean in English?
11.Why is Mary “polite but chilly”?
12.What happened during the real Children’s Crusade?
13.Why is the book “so short and jumbled and jangled”?
14.Why does the author say that the book “was written by a pillar of salt”?

Chapter 2
The reader is introduced to the main character, Billy Pilgrim. The chapter introduces the concept of coming “unstuck in time” and tells the main events of Billy’s life, emphasizing the events leading up to his capture by the German army at the end of World War II.
Identify characters — Billy Pilgrim, Barbara, Robert, Roland Weary, Valencia
1.What does the author mean when he says that Billy “has come unstuck in time”?
2.What are the major events of Billy’s life depicted in this chapter?
3.What is Tralfamadore? What happens to Billy there?
4.How does Billy describe the Tralfamadorians?
5.What ability do the Tralfamadorians have that Earthlings do not?
6.What is the origin of the phrase, “so it goes”?
7.Describe Billy’s war experience up to his capture?
8.How is he captured? With whom?
9.When and how did Billy first come unstuck in time? Describe the experience.
10.Why does Weary try to beat Billy?

Chapter 3
Billy travels back and forth in time from his experiences as a POW in Europe to post-war Ilium, New York on the eve of his daughter’s wedding.
Identify vocabulary — “mopping up”, androgyne
Identify characters — Wild Bob
1.Describe the German force that captured Billy. What does that force tell us about Germany at the end of the war?
2.What happens to the scouts?
3.Why does the German photographer take a picture of Billy’s and Weary’s feet?
4.Why does the photographer stage a picture of Billy’s capture?
5.What are the two causes of the destruction that Billy drives through on his way to the Lions Club meeting?
6.What does Billy’s encounter with the Marine major tell us about Billy’s approach to life?
7.Why does the doctor tell Billy to take a nap everyday? What do you think caused Billy’s malady?
8.Describe the German reserves whom the captured Americans passed. How do they compare to the group that captured Billy?
9.Describe the conditions on the trains that transported the prisoners. Describe the car that housed the railroad guards.
10.Why does Vonnegut refer to the prisoners on the trains as “human beings”?

Chapter 4
Billy is captured by the Tralfamadorians on his daughter’s wedding night. While being transported on their flying saucer, he travels in time back to the prisoner train in 1945 Germany.
Identify characters — Edgar Derby, Paul Lazzaro, the Tralfamadorians
1.What does Billy do to occupy his time before the aliens come?
2.How does the message of the war movie change when it is viewed backwards?
3.How is Billy lifted into the flying saucer?
4.How do the Tralfamadorians answer when Billy asks “why me?”
5.Why do the other POWs refuse to let Billy sleep near them?
6.What does Weary tell the other men in his car before he dies?
7.What processes do the Americans go through when they arrive at the camp?

Chapter 5
Billy continues to move in time between World War II, Tralfamadore, his time in the psychiatric ward of a veterans’ hospital, and his marriage.
Identify vocabulary —rodomontades
Identify characters — Eliot Rosewater, Kilgore Trout, Valencia Merble, Mr. and Mrs.
Lance Rumfoord, Howard W. Campbell, Jr., Professor Bertram
Copeland Rumfoord
1.What does the way Tralfamadorians view the universe and Earthlings tell us about their concept of time?
2.Is there a similarity between the format of Vonnegut’s novel and the description of Tralfamadorian novels? Explain.
3.Describe the English POWs that Billy and the Americans encounter.
4.What was the main ingredient of the candles and soap used at the welcoming dinner for the American POWs?
5.Why do the British POWs send Billy to the hospital shed?
6.What is Billy introduced to in the veterans’ hospital?
7.Why does science fiction appeal to Billy and Rosewater?
8.Why is Billy upset by his mother?
9.In his novel, The Gospel from Outer Space, what does Kilgore Trout say is the message of the gospels? How do the aliens change that message?
10.Describe Billy’s habitat in the Tralfamadorian zoo.
11.What do the Tralfamadorians suggest Earthlings should learn to do?
12.What epitaph does Billy think of on his wedding night?
13.What does Campbell write about American POWs in Germany?
14.Why does the widowed mother think Billy is “going crazy”?

Chapter 6
Billy and the other American POWs are transferred to Dresden as contract labor. Billy describes his own death.
1.What is the source of the animal magnetism Billy feels in the prison hospital shed?
2.What does Lazzaro say is the sweetest thing in life? What story does he tell to prove his point?
3.What advice does Lazzaro give Billy?
4.How does Billy die?
5.What positive attributes of Dresden does the Englishman share with the American POWs?
6.How is Edgar Derby elected head American?
7.To what does the author compare his first view of Dresden?
8.Describe the Americans’ arrival in Dresden.
9.Describe the Americans’ “home away from home.”

Chapter 7
While Billy is in a hospital in Vermont recovering from injuries sustained in a plane crash, he travels through time back to Dresden in 1945.
Identify characters — Werner Gluck
1.Describe the plane crash in which Billy is injured.
2.What do Billy, Gluck, and Derby discover in the first building they enter while looking for the slaughterhouse kitchen?
3.What does the war widow in the kitchen think of Billy, Gluck, and Derby?
4.What work was assigned to the Americans in Dresden?
5.How do the Americans get vitamins and minerals?

Chapter 8
Billy travels from the slaughterhouse to his meeting with Kilgore Trout, his anniversary party, and back to the fire bombing of Dresden.
Identify vocabulary — nacreous
Identify characters — Howard W. Campbell, Jr., Kilgore Trout, Maggie White, Montana
1.Why does Campbell visit the American POWs?
2.How does Derby respond to Campbell?
3.How does Billy meet Trout?
4.What does Trout’s story about robots say about the bombing of Dresden?
5.What two ‘lies’ does Trout tell Maggie White?
6.How does Billy react to the barbershop quartet? Why?
7.How does Billy describe Dresden after the fire-bombing?
8.What do the American fighter planes do after the fire-bombing?
9.What do the Americans find in the suburb of Dresden?

Chapter 9
While in the hospital in Vermont recovering from the plane crash, Billy discusses Dresden with another patient. He then travels in time to Dresden and to Tralfamadore.
Identify vocabulary — epigraph
Identify characters — Bertram Copeland Rumfoord, Lily Rumfoord
1.How does Valencia die?
2.What justifications and critiques of the fire-bombing of Dresden does Rumfoord read?
3.What did the old man in Billy’s past think about old age?
4.How had the army improved Robert?
5.What is Professor Rumfoord’s opinion of Billy?
6.What might Billy choose as his happiest moment? Why?
7.What is the only thing Billy cries about in the war?
8.Why is the epigraph of the book Away In A Manger?
9.What is Professor Rumfoord’s opinion of the raid on Dresden?
10.What two acquaintances does Billy indirectly encounter in the “tawdry bookstore”? How?
11.What happens to Billy on the New York radio show?

Chapter 10
Billy and the other POWs are used by the Germans to exhume corpses after the fire-bombing.
1.What does the author describe as one of his nicest moments?
2.What does the author mean by the term corpse mine?
3.How does the Maori POW die?
4.What new technique for disposing of the corpses is devised?
5.Why do the Germans leave?
6.What does the bird say to Billy Pilgrim? Why?

1.After reading the book, why do you think that Vonnegut dedicated his novel to Mary O’Hare and Gerhard Muller?
2.Why does Vonnegut choose to write a “jumbled and jangled” war book?
3.What is the significance of the phrase “so it goes”?
4.What is the significance of the bird cry “poo-tee-weet”?
5.Explain the subtitle, The Children’s Crusade or a Dirty Dance With Death.
6.Discuss the major themes of Slaughterhouse-Five?
7.How does Vonnegut use time to communicate his themes?
8.Discuss the use of irony in the novel.
9.Are we intended to believe Billy’s tales of Tralfamadore or are we, like Barbara, supposed to assume that Tralfamadore is a figment of Billy’s post-brain-damaged imagination?

Class Activities
1.Billy’s life is presented in a “jumbled and jangled” fashion. Have students construct a timeline of the important events in Billy’s life. Looking at the chronology, are there cause and effect relationships that explain Billy’s character?
2.Research and report to the class on the history of Dresden, Germany before and after World War II, during the Cold War, and since the fall of communism in Eastern Europe.
3.Draw a map of the city of Dresden in 1945 and indicate the areas targeted by the Allied raid.
4.Identify phrases, events, characters, etc. from the book that communicate Vonnegut’s criticisms of post-World War II American society.
5.Using Vonnegut’s descriptions, present character sketches (both visual and verbal) of the main characters. For example, what does the fact that he is a member of the John Birch Society tell us about Billy’s father-in-law?
6. Research Vonnegut’s military career, and use a plot map to compare it to Billy Pilgrim’s.
7.Produce visual representations of the Tralfamadorians, their space ship, and Billy’s home in the zoo on Tralfamadore.
8.Play a recording of The Ballad of the Green Beret by Barry Sadler. How does the image of the Green Beret portrayed in the song compare to the image presented by Vonnegut in his descriptions of Robert?

Beyond the Book
1.The themes of free will and fatalism appear in Slaughterhouse-Five. Research these concepts in other cultures and civilizations. What similarities and differences do you find?
2.Slaughterhouse-Five was written at the height of the Vietnam War. How did Vonnegut’s experiences at Dresden and America’s involvement in Vietnam contribute to the anti-war message of the book?
3.Research opposing views of the fire-bombing of Dresden. Was it militarily necessary?
4.Research the arguments of the current movement against the war in Iraq. Are there similarities between these protesters’ position and the attitudes expressed by Vonnegut in Slaughterhouse-Five?
5.Interview veterans of World War II and other wars. How do their attitudes and experiences compare to Vonnegut’s. What is universal in the experience of war? What varies depending on the specific conflict?
6.Examine Vonnegut’s later publications of graphic illustrations. How do his illustrations promote the same themes as his novels?
7.Read descriptions of other atrocities of World War II such as Hiroshima by John Hersey, Night by Elie Wiesel, Mila 18 by Leon Uris, and The Winds of War and War and Remembrance by Herman Wouk. Compare these events to the fire- bombing of Dresden.
8.Read other works by Vonnegut. What themes, settings, and characters run through his novels?
9.Slaughterhouse-Five is among the most frequently banned works in American literature. Why do you think this is the case? Research reactions to the book and compare it to reactions to other controversial works of art.
10.Vonnegut closes his last book, A Man Without a Country ,with an original poem called “Requiem” which ends with these lines:
When the last living thing
has died on account of us,
how poetical it would be
if Earth could say,
in a voice floating up
from the floor
of the Grand Canyon,
“It is done.”
People did not like it here.
How does this poem communicate and reinforce the themes of Slaughterhouse-Five?

For Further Reading
Other works by Kurt Vonnegut
Breakfast of Champions
Cat’s Cradle
God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater
The Sirens of Titan
Welcome to the Monkey House
Works with similar themes
Hiroshima by John Heresy
Diary of Anne Frank
Mila 18
by Leon Uris
Winds of War by Herman Wouk
War and Remembrance by Herman Wouk
The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien
All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque
Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo
Fox Girl by Nara Okja Keller
Night by Elie Wiesel
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
The Painted Bird by Jerzy Kosinski
The Man In the Gray Flannel Suit by Sloan Wilson
Rabbit Run by John Updike
Goodbye, Columbus by Philip Roth

About this Guide
Susan Corley teaches high school history in South Carolina. Her experience is with many different levels of students in grades 9-12. She has also taught high school English and served as an adjunct for local colleges.

Download a PDF of the Teacher's Guide

  • Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
  • January 12, 1999
  • Fiction - Literary
  • Dial Press Trade Paperback
  • $16.00
  • 9780385333849

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