Storm of Steel

Some thoughts about Ernst Jünger and courage

How men react to hardship is one of the major factors differentiating them. When I look outside my window and see a cold breeze or a little slushy snow, I think about how rotten my lot in life is. When someone gives me a dirty look on the street, I have an inner monologue begin about what an awful piece of shit that person is and how I hope they die, which can go on all day if not reigned in.

In the World War I memoir Storm of Steel, Jünger is wounded something like 12 times. When recovering in a hospital, he longs to be back fighting in battle again. He watches friends and comrades die at the hands of the British, but when he writes about encounters with these enemy soldiers he compliments their ferocity and manliness.

Throughout the war, it was always my endeavour to view my opponent without animus, and to form an opinion of him as a man on the basis of the courage he showed. I would always try and seek him out in combat and kill him, and I expected nothing else from him. But never did I entertain mean thoughts of him. When prisoners fell into my hands, later on, I felt responsible for their safety, and would always do everything in my power for them.

Courage is another of the major traits that separates men. At a certain level, it can’t be faked. Let me tell you something: if I were giving a speech and a bullet whizzed so close to me that my ear was bleeding, not only would I not stand up and shout “fight, fight, fight,” but I would never leave my house again. If I were in the trenches of the first world war, I would likewise be quivering in the earthworks, following dangerous orders only because of the fear of my commanding officer's own gun.

Years ago, I read All Quiet on the Western Front, and what was portrayed within was a world I could relate to. A world in which the cruelty and seemingly random horrors of war are not the background noise from which heroism and true courage emerge, but insurmountable and crushing events which do permanent damage even to those unscathed. (There was a fairly recent Netflix adaptation that made bizarre changes to the structure of the story. I don’t recommend it.) Storm of Steel affected me much more deeply.

There is a temptation for men like myself to imagine that our lack of whatever you want to call it (toughness, manliness, etc.) is because of our sensitivity, and that this somehow makes us superior. But despite it’s often matter-of-fact tone, Storm of Steel is written with a clarity of thought and keenness that the most soft-handed indoor men can rarely reach. And when Jünger chooses to tell you of his tender moments, the words are devastating.

Down below lay the ruins of Vraucourt. In front of it we could see the flashing muzzles of an artillery battery whose men took flight as our first wave approached and they came under fire. The occupants of a row of dugouts along the side of the path also ran away. I encountered one such as he was just about to leave the last one.

Along with a couple of men from my company who had hooked up with me, I proceeded down the path. To the right of it was a fortified line, from where we came under heavy fire. We retreated to the first of the dugouts, over which the bullets of both sides were soon flying back and forth. It looked as though it had been a base for messengers and bicyclists attached to the artillery. Outside it lay my British soldier, little more than a boy, who had been hit in the temple. He lay there, looking quite relaxed. I forced myself to look closely at him. It wasn’t a case of ‘you or me’ any more. I often thought back on him; and more with the passing of the years. The state, which relieves us of our responsibility, cannot take away our remorse; and we must exercise it. Sorrow, regret, pursued me deep into my dreams.

(emphasis added)

Courage also means the courage to take on the horror, and allow yourself to feel it without excuses.

I have a reading list prepared for this year, and already I want to deviate to read more of Jünger’s work. Whether I do or not, my next short “book report” will be on Delicious Tacos’ The Pussy.