Storm of Steel

In December 1914, Ernst Jünger and his fellow soldiers get out of a train in Bazancourt, a town in Champagne, France. They are filled with amazement as they listen to the sounds of the warfront. Coming from various civilian backgrounds, the young men have bonded during their training. Having grown up relatively sheltered, they are “enraptured by war” and ready for danger. They expect the war to be “manly” and to give them the “extraordinary” experience they crave.

The group marches to the village of Orainville, the base for the 73rd Rifles. The dilapidated village is mostly made up of bearded, idle veterans. After a night in a barn, Jünger is assigned to the 9th Company.

During breakfast, the soldiers hear explosions in the distance, and everyone rushes outside. Jünger doesn’t understand why other men are ducking while running. Then he sees a contorted figure wailing for help as he is carried into the Red Cross building. It turns out that a shell burst has caused 13 fatalities. The event makes a strong impression on Jünger. He even has auditory hallucinations, causing him to mistake the sound of a passing cart for the sound of another incoming shell.

Jünger soon learns that his habit of jumpiness will stay with him throughout the war. Even the sound of a dropped book or a random shout can be heart-stopping. Any unusual occurrence causes Death to “leap […] with hand upraised.”

That evening, the company marches through isolated woods to their battle station, a forester’s house, where they’re divided into platoons. Then they load their guns and march to the front. Jünger recalls the dark, single-file journey as being marked by a “strange mood of melancholy exaltation.” At last they drop into a communication trench, where Jünger accompanies an older soldier to a sentry post, watching the front until dawn.

This is only the beginning of a demanding routine in which the men of the platoon seldom get to sleep for more than two hours per night. Once the January rains set in, the long hours of sentry duty become a torment. During the day, the men catch what rest they can, in between duties like trench repairs and running for food or coffee. Most of the young men “ha[ve] only a nodding acquaintance with real work,” so the demands of platoon life hit them especially hard. In addition, the veterans give the newcomers a hard time.

Within a short time of joining the regiment, the men become disillusioned. There’s none of the danger they’d hoped for—just dirty work, boredom, and little sleep. They look forward to an attack, but the front is at a standstill, as men on both sides lie low in increasingly elaborate defensive trenches.

In 1915, trench warfare is still a novelty. Much energy is poured into keeping watch, digging, and repairing trenches, but much of this proves later to be unnecessary. Jünger argues that the size of the trenches isn’t what’s important, it’s “the courage and condition of the men behind them.” In fact, the depth of these early trenches might have caused the men to become defensive and overcautious in their mindset.

Jünger tells of an incident that almost brought his career to an end in January 1915. One day, while on outdoor sentry duty, he wrapped a blanket around his head—against regulations—and set his rifle down in a bush. When he reached for his rifle upon hearing a noise, he discovered that it was missing. The duty officer had taken it away. As punishment, the officer sent Jünger on watch closer to the French lines, armed only with a pickaxe. But he survived, and on February 4, the regiment marched back to Bazancourt, relieved of their position in the trenches.