Storm of Steel

While recuperating at home, Jünger’s father suggests that he become a gentleman-cadet, so, once recovered, he reports for another training course, graduating as an ensign. The emphasis of his training is on moving across terrain in small groups. He rejoins his regiment in Douchy, France, in September 1915. Just as they arrive in Douchy, a shell explodes in front of his small troop of reservists, and Jünger has the opportunity to put his skills to work on the spot, leading the others into the village by means of a long detour.

Douchy becomes a beloved place of rest and recuperation for the men of the 73rd. Douchy had previously been a quiet rural village, but now, “like a great parasitical growth,” it has “sprouted an army town.” Its former civilian identity is scarcely detectable, as the remaining French population has been relegated to a corner of the village. The village’s young people must report each morning for a work detail, and the soldiers rarely encounter other locals.

Less than an hour’s march away is the captured village of Monchy-au-Bois, where the regiment’s reserve companies are staying. The surrounding countryside is silent and mostly devoid of life. Jünger observes the mix of the debris of war and the remains of civilian life—battered toys, books, and household items among broken weapons, trenches, and even human bodies. In such surroundings, even a warrior is reduced to morose thoughts.

The front line forms a semicircle around Monchy. In order to reach it, one travels through a “sap,” or communication trench, that zigzags in a perpendicular direction to the front. It takes about 15 minutes to reach the support trench, and then one reaches the firing trench. More than a mere ditch, the firing trench is 10 or 20 feet deep and contains sentry platforms from which a marksman can fire toward the front. In front of the trench is a barbed wire entanglement meant to halt an attacker. It’s often entwined with weeds and wildflowers, among which partridges and larks often thrive.

The trench often contains dugouts, in which soldiers can rest. They are actual living quarters with ceilings and walls, and though they’re technically padded against artillery fire, they can become death-traps. Jünger describes the trench as a whole as “a secret hive of industry and watchfulness.” At the same time, living underground lends itself to a kind of boredom.

Along with the rest of the 6th Company, Jünger joins C Sector, the regiment’s most forward sector on the line. Jünger describes a typical day in the trenches. It begins at dusk. During tedious sentry duty, rat-hunting is a favored pastime. Men chat quietly about their lives, hopes, and desires to stave off the cold and boredom. Occasionally, one fires a round in the direction of an unidentified sound coming from the opposite trench. At some places on the line, the two trenches are close enough for a sentry to become familiar with his enemy counterpart’s cough or singing voice.

After two hours are up, a sentry is relieved of duty and may have a chance to read the newspaper or nap. Jünger covers two more wearisome sentry duties before dawn, then drinks coffee and gives his platoon that day’s tasks, which are often repairs needed around the trenches. For such tasks, the men rely on one another’s skills and trades. The day is punctuated by lunch, a nap, and additional sentry duty. In the event that a sentry is shot, the man is matter-of-factly bandaged and carried off, the puddle of his blood quickly covered with earth. At teatime, Jünger, as ensign, often joins senior officers for a formal tea. Some days, his “pen-pushing” duties almost make him long for an artillery barrage.