Paul notes that not many old-timers are left. Peace talks never really happen. He has fourteen days' rest from swallowing gas and he is contemplative. He is flooded by feelings – "greed of life, love of home, yearning of the blood, intoxication of deliverance" (12.4).
He knows that if he and his fellow soldiers return home now, there will be no glory, that he will be isolated and not understood.
He stands up bravely after this train of thought, as if now fully ready to face Death, to lose to it: "Let the months and years come, they bring me nothing more […] I am so alone, and so without hope that I can confront them without fear" (12.10).
The last paragraphs of the book are just a must-read:
[Paul] fell in October 1918, on a day that was so quiet and still on the whole front, that the army report confined itself to the single sentence: All quiet on the Western Front.
He had fallen forward and lay on the earth as though sleeping. Turning him over one saw that he could not have suffered long; his face had an expression of calm, as though almost glad the end had come.