[[ Free kindle ]] In StahlgewitternAuthor Ernst Jünger – Gsagency.co

I couldn t help associating this WWI memoir with what I ve read recently, particularly Speedboat and Sleepless Nights, that wouldn t seem related at all on the surface but definitely shared a sense of fragmented cohesion, or cohesive fragmentation This one and those two novels by late 70s NYC intellectual women offer minimal to zero plot and characterization but excel thanks to unique voice, setting, and perception vibe Storms of Steel is just as fractured as Speedboat, with just as many fleeting human encounters but this is differentiated of course by the ever present possibility of a bullet in the eye, shrapnel severing an essential artery, excessive inhalation of chlorine gas, on and on Also, as far as I know, Renata Adler never shot an enemy soldier about to capture her as she lay on her back, bleeding, after a bullet punctured her lung Junger was mentioned a few times in the fifth part of 2666 and last year I read and loved All Quiet on the Western Front and also earlier this year read some Imre Kert sz Holocaust related books those were the forces at play before reading After reading, the single lingering impression beyond war is hell is luck In a concentration camp or in the trenches, death is always there, horrors unimaginable in peacetime are everywhere out in the open, and there s really no way to ensure survival He s developed elevated anticipation for incoming bombs and makes many of the right moves at the right time but so often the same move a minute later would ve meant death Junger is wounded six times and comes away with twenty serious scars entry and exit wounds and each one, if his body contorted another way or if the trajectory of the shell or bullet had been just a little different this book never would ve been written, let alone read 100 years later A century later, it s still read because it s gripping, so clearly describes the storms and stresses of battle and the times of quiet in between, and it does so without much theorizing or hand wringing or editorializing about humanity For the most part, it s a feat of dramatization He shows courage, mercy, passion, suffering, cowardliness, rage, companionship, sympathy, on and on His respect for the enemy is remarkable and his impressions of near death moments, when he thought that death was finally upon him and felt something like lightness and happiness and harmony with the world, noticed how all the pebbles on the ground around him were perfectly and intricately patterned, are reassuring somehow And when he does generalize about humanity it s always welcomed and well phrased Michael Hofmann is a top translator of course loved his The Radetzky March Sometimes the language seemed to carry excessive British slang, a few times to the point of not making sense or seeming like a word was missing, but as with Berlin Alexanderplatz, I m sure Hofmann was accurately rendering or at least relaying a sense of old timey German slang in the original As with Holocaust novel memoirs, books like this are good for your perspective the general takeaway, despite the daily fresh hell of the news, is that things could be worse these days Imagine everything devastated, every church steeple razed so not to help enemy artillery set its sights, every old tree shattered, little girls in pools of their own blood laid out on the front steps of well to do houses, rats everywhere, and the airor less at all times alive with deadly projectiles I m sure if the current president were to read this or have it read to him , he d come away with bloodlustthan hunger for ever lasting peace. An oddly jaunty memoir of the Western Front, characterised by what J nger describes somewhere as his strange mood of melancholy exultation I am surprised so many people have found his prose clean , sparse , unemotional I thought the opposite, that it was rather over literary in many places not overwritten exactly, but with touches of a grand Romantic sensibility that I haven t found in English or French writers of the First World War The white ball of a shrapnel shell melted far off, suffusing the grey December sky The breath of battle blew across to us, and we shuddered Did we sense that almost all of us some sooner, some later were to be consumed by it, on days when the dark grumbling yonder would crash over our heads like an incessant thunder In the heat of battle, where Barbusse and Genevoix feel a nauseated horror, J nger instead feels an almost visionary excitement even a twinge of arousal Where Sassoon and Manning lament the loss or corruption of their entire generation, J nger merely comments with apparent approbation that over four years, the fire smelted an ever purer, ever bolder warriorhood.It s all very slightly off putting and the tone is quite hard to judge, despite the newness of this translation from Michael Hofmann He Hofmann spends a lot of time in his introduction denigrating his predecessor Basil Creighton s version of 1929 this is not a classy move, particularly when I wouldn t call his own translation especially fluent though I m sure there are fewer direct errors There are many odd word choices like grunt for soldier, which to my ears is very American and anyway wasn t used before the 1960s and repeatedly using splinter to describe a huge piece of shrapnel that can pierce a man s chest gives, I think, the wrong impression Most of all, there is a lot of that awkward juxtaposition between high and low register that is the hallmark of translationese A lark ascends its trilling gets on my wick.Hofmann knows his subject, though, and his introductory essay has some interesting comments that contextualise Storm of Steel what an appropriately George RR Martinesque title that is He makes the intriguing and, I think, convincing suggestion that J nger s book has a natural epic form , as opposed to comparable accounts in English which are lyrical or dramatic There are indeed many moments here that you might fairly call Homeric, not least in their tone of gung ho excitement and considering this helped me clarify what it was I disliked about the book.Because isn t it the case that the epic form, with its tendency to revel in the glory of war, is in some sense fundamentally dishonest and,to the point, isn t that precisely one of the lessons that the First World War taught us Expecting a Marinetti like vociferation, an avant garde hymn to mechanical war, I initially found J nger s narrative a little flat In The Great War and Modern Memory Paul Fussell makes J nger sound entertainingly gauche, a gas goggled steampunk berserker with a will to power prose style I was bored by the 100 pages preceding chapter 7, Guillemont, whose evocation of the Battle of the Somme finally hooked me A runner from a W rttemberg regiment reported to me to guide my platoon to the famous town of Combles, where we were to be held in reserve for the time being He was the first German soldier I saw in a steel helmet, and he straightaway struck me as a denizen of a new and far harsher world Sitting next to him in a roadside ditch, I questioned him avidly about the state of the position, and got from him a grey tale of days hunkered in craters, with no outside contact or communications lines, of incessant attacks, fields of corpses and crazy thirst, of the wounded left to die, andof the same The impassive features under the rim of the steel helmet and the monotonous voice accompanied by the noise of the battle made a ghostly impression on us A few days had put their stamp on the runner, who was to escort us into the realm of flame, setting him inexpressibly apart from us If a man falls, he is left to die No one can help No one knows if he ll return alive Every day we re attacked, but they won t get through Everyone knows this is about life and death Nothing was left in his voice but equanimity, apathy fire had burned everything else out of it It s men like that you need for fighting.That J nger sees the runner as one of the men you need for fighting instead of a pitiable hollow man is pretty characteristic Storm of Steel may not be a Futurist manifesto, but neither is it a rueful anti war meditation, with the Western Front as a stereotyped literary inferno where Europe is dying and no one is right J nger is far from elated by the infernal engines plowing the landscape and vaporizing whole platoons but he doesn t think they cancel his chivalric gymnastic idea of soldiering His war remains an arena of individual dash, a tournament of gallants Even in these frightful moments, something droll could happen A man next to me pulled his rifle to his cheek and pretended to shoot at a rabbit that suddenly came bounding through our lines It all happened so abruptly, I had to laugh Nothing is ever so terrible that some bold and amusing fellow can t trump it Storm of Steel was published in 1920 and retained, through numerous revisions this translation uses the final, 1961 edition , much of Lt J nger s apolitical, athletic euphoria in battle, his consummately personal drive to win His enemy isn t the British Empire or the French Republic he seeks out and kills the men in the opposite trench, the opposing team a year before war broke out, J nger was in the French army he ran away from school, from the straitened routine of well to do bourgeois, and joined the Foreign Legion Bruce Chatwin called J nger s persona an aesthete in the center of a tornado, quoting Stendahl another soldier writer adventurer To that I would add a teenage Quixote pursuing a private errand through the battle royale of empires, an incarnation of bardic archaisms amid industrial global war Storm of Steel is shaped as a saga J nger consistently favors legendary parallels Lobbing grenades while storming British trenches is just updated swordplay, really Then you hurled your own bomb, and leaped forward One barely glanced at the crumpled body of one s opponent he was finished, and a new duel was commencing The exchange of hand grenades reminded me of fencing with foils you need to jump and stretch, almost as in ballet It s the deadliest of duels, as it variably ends with one or other of the participants being blown to smithereens Or both.He says his personal attendant, Vinke, followed me into battle like the squires of yore he also scraped J nger clean after he stumbled into a puddle of someone else s panic diarrhea Strolling about in the radiant and narcotic lush blooming May of 1917 J nger reflects mystically It s easier to go into battle against such a setting than in cold wintry weather The simple soul is convinced here that his life is deeply embedded in nature, and that his death is no end.With sacks of grenades strapped across his chest, he led one of the teams of storm troops that stove in the British lines in March 1918, as part of Ludendorff s last ditch gamble to defeat the Allies before fast arriving fresh American troops could tip the balance J nger gestures only vaguely at the strategic momentousness of the Michael Offensive and gives it afabulous title The Great Battle Storm of Steel stops in September 1918 not with Germany s impending defeat, but with J nger s own apotheosis as a warrior The last line of the book is the text of a telegram he received in hospital His Majesty the Kaiser has bestowed on you the order pour le M rite In the name of the whole division, I congratulate you The Kaiser, who is two months from abdication and exile the Croix pour le M rite, established by Frederick the Great, and the highest award available to servants of the dying Kaiserreich J nger was one of the last to win it, and when he died in 1998, the latest surviving recipient.The first 100 pages of Storm of Steel bored me, hence the 3 stars, but the remainder is thrilling I wasn t surprised to read that the bookish half blind young Borges, with his cult of gaucho knife fights and macabre tangos, adored J nger s stylish, violent, essentially cold blooded testament In the afternoons, the village was under bombardment from all sorts of weapons and calibers In spite of the danger, I was always loath to leave the attic window of the house, because it was an exciting sight, watching units and individual messengers hurrying across the field of fire, often hurling themselves to the ground, while the earth whirled and spat to the left and right of them Peeping over destiny s shoulder like that to see her hand, it s easy to become negligent and risk one s own life.Of course, J nger gives off a strong whiff of Fascism Walter Benjamin dismissed his nationalist writings of the 1920s as sinister runic humbug J nger s archaic airs bear a family resemblance to the programmatic primitivism of the nuttier avant garde and the Nazis, and Hitler craved his prestigious endorsement but the same solipsism that allowed J nger to fight the Great War as a personal quest kept him out of mass politics, however much he condemned the Weimar Republic and dreamt of a rearmed Germany also, he was not an anti Semite With the profits of the bestselling Storm of Steel he bought a rural retreat and pursued entomological researches he was fond of ard beetles His situation in the 1930s was that of an internal migr We recomfortable with the Soviet version Oblique and private opposition to Hitler we read as cowardice, especially in someone with J nger s untouchable prestigeand access to Hitler, and skill with weapons From 1938 he was vaguely associated with plots against Hitler, though Clive James says he was never an active conspirator, he thought he was doing his duty to civilized values merely by despising Hitler The thought of killing him did not occur In 1939 he published an allegorical attack on Nazism, On the Marble Cliffs, which was suppressed In 1940 he rejoined the army, and was dismissed 1944 for his closeness to the ringleaders of the Stauffenberg plot He spent most of the war years in Occupied Paris, indulging his biblio and oenophilia, dining with Andr Gide and composing the diaries that in Chatwin s judgment combine acute observation and an anesthetized sensibility in the strangest literary production of the Second World War, stranger by far get this than anything by C line or Malaparte If that weren t enough to pique my interest AC and Chris Sastre have given me some idea of the strangeness of C line and Malaparte J nger s prewar notebooks of secret dissent and war diaries recur throughout James s Cultural Amnesia, as loci classici of the crisis of humanism When intellectuals conspire to undermine vulgar democracy in favour of a refined dream, it might seem unfair to condemn them for failing to foresee the subsequent nightmare And Moeller, though outstandingly qualified, was only one among many But there were too many that was the point Too many well read men combined to prepare the way for a pitiless hoodlum who despised them, and they even came to value him for being a hoodlum for lacking scruples, for being a drum of nature Among the revolutionary conservative intellectuals, J nger is the real tragic figure He saw the light, but too late In his notebooks he gradually de emphasized his call for conservative revolution led by men who had been transformed in their being by the experience of World War I In 1943, in Paris, he was told the news about the extermination camps, and finally reached the conclusion that he had been staving off since the collapse of the Weimar Republic he had helped to undermine one of the men whose being had been transformed by their experience of the Great War was Adolf Hitler The quality J nger valued most had turned out to be the only one he shared with the man he most despised. This is probably the cheeriest war memoir ever While J nger occasionally remembers to throw in the the requisite oh the horrors of war comment, most of the time it is clear he is having a blast Based on his other hobbies travel, hunting, joining the French Foreign Legion, dangerous political conversation, taking all available drugs he seems to have quite the adrenaline junkie Kind of amazing that he lived to over a hundred Appearances can be deceiving this man is totally stealing your hash and LSD if you don t keep an eye on him And then possibly your car, which he may crash while trying to hunt mountain lions without a license. War means the destruction of the enemy without scruple and by any means War is the harshest of all trades, and the masters of it can only entertain humane feelings so long as they do no harm. Ernst J nger was a born soldier neither risk averse nor foolhardy, able to command the loyalty of others and to follow orders without question, able to fight without malice and kill without scruple These are his captivating memoirs of his service in the First World War.The consensus of posterity regarding this war is that it was bloody, tragic, and ultimately inconclusive the exemplar of a brutal, pointless war Erich Maria Remarque, who fought on the same side and on the same front as J nger albeit farbriefly writes of his experience with trauma and disgust Yet J nger s memoirs, equally as bloody as All Quiet on the Western Front, are strangely warm and cheery A born soldier, he felt right at home.As regards the basic experiences of the war, J nger s memoirs cover all the bases bloody hand to hand combat, endless artillery shelling, taking cover in shell holes and scrambling to put on one s gas mask, swarms of flying shrapnel and bullets, and death forever prowling But out of this basic fabric of experiences J nger weaves a heroic and even jaunty tale, a battle narrative of gallantry and daring Each soldier, in J nger s archaizing eyes, is a knight locked in a gentlemanly joust with an enemy, motivated by duty and honor I often wondered whether this quaint way of viewing the war was some kind of subtle psychological defense mechanism, shutting out its horrors with a chivalrous fantasy but J nger seems to have carried this perspective with him before the fight even began.In many ways J nger reminds me of Patrick Leigh Fermor Both war heroes, both adrenaline junkies, both of a seemingly inexhaustible vitality Leigh Fermor lived to 96, J nger to 104 and both obscenely well educated, these two authors tend to see life as a legend J nger s prose has none of Remarque s cinematographic immediacy By comparison his writing is highly stylized, like a Byzantine mosaic or Homeric verse Admittedly, this istrue of the first half than the second, which becomes quite thrilling In any case it takes a special kind of person to compare an artillery bombardment to a witch s cauldron, or to motivate oneself in battle by quoting a verse from Ariosto.The ending of the book contains, in brief, some of J nger s thoughts on the significance of the war Clausewitz s famous aphorism, that war is politics by other means, seems to have been lost on J nger For him the war s value was not in accomplishing any concrete objective which was, in any case, foiled for Germany but in hardening the fighting men You might say that, for J nger, the war was valuable for its own sake The extreme circumstances of war roused in the soldiers an equally extreme dedication to an ideal beyond themselves, the ability to yield themselves completely to their Fatherland and he thought that future generations would look on the soldiers much as saints And so, strange as it may sound, I learned from these very four years of schooling in force and in all the fantastic extravagance of material warfare, that life has no depth of meaning except when it is pledged for an ideal, and that there are ideals in comparison with which the life of an individual and even of a people has no weight. Personally I find this view disturbing, as I m sure many do The nationalistic dreams of Kaisers are nothing in comparison with even one life In any case I think history has amply proven J nger mistaken in just a few years, the very hardening anvil of war he praised led to another, evendeadly war under a regime which J nger himself despised And whatever we may think of the heroism displayed by individual soldiers, it is outweighed by the sheer horror of it all I also must say that I am incredulous that someone who lost so many friends and comrades and who himself narrowly escaped death, getting wounded 14 times could talk in such fanciful, romantic, and vague terms about the lessons of the war and again I wonder, was this some kind of defense mechanism In sum, this must be one of the oddest war memoirs ever published, equal parts exciting, off putting, and exacerbating For those interested in the First World War, certainly it is required reading. Funny how everyone has heard of ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT, but hardly anyone recognizes that other major German language battlefield novel of the First World War, STORM OF STEEL, in German In Stahlgewittern 1920 Of course, ALL QUIET is resolutely pacifist while STORM is not it s an in your face battle story, not unlike Norman Mailer s breakthrough novel The Naked and the Dead twenty six years later It is relatively apolitical, unlike author Ernst J nger s later leanings in the late Twenties, when Germany s Weimar Republik was obviously struggling, he opined that he hated Democracy like the plague and remained an ardent Nationalist There is that to consider if latent political factors are enough to put you off On the other hand STORM OF STEEL is gripping, with only brief breathers from the emotional and physical brutality of war A plus for intermediate students of German is that, since the novel is short and not rife in Modernist technique in the way of, say, Thomas Mann s MAGIC MOUNTAIN, it makes a fairly accessible read in its original language It is worth noting that the real Ernst J nger must have made his peace with Democracy on some level, because he lived in the Federal Republic of Germany Western Germany until his death at age 102 Photos The author as a young man and in later years This has to be the best bit of WW1 writing I ve experienced so far I ve often maintained that the Great War was the last major conflict in which the combatants regarded the foe with a certain amount of respect and chivalrous conduct They were equals at arms, with neither side having an ungodly edge in technology, as we see today Junger was typical of young officers of the time, whether they wore the grey or khaki he was keen to fight, and did so energetically His aggressive nature can be deduced from the way he kitted himself out for battle P.168 I had got together some kit appropriate to the sort of work I meant to be doing across my chest, two sandbags, each containing four stick bombs, impact fuses on the left, delay on the right, in my right tunic pocket an 08 pistol on a long cord, in my right trouser pocket a little Mauser pistol, in my left tunic pocket five egg hand grenades, in the left trouser pocket luminous compass and whistle, in my belt spring hooks for pulling out the pins, plus bowie knife and wire cutters in my inside tunic pocket I carried a full wallet with my home address, in my right back pocket, a flat flask of cherry brandy Junger is not all business, however, and is quick to note humorous or ironical situations Many passages are tinged with a bit of sardonic humour I m sure his colleagues and underlings were somewhat chagrined to find Junger did not mind calling them by name, as in the case of this unfortunate fellowIn the platoon left of us, Sergeant Hock, the unfortunate rat catcher of Monchy, aimed to discharge a white flare, picked up the wrong flare, and instead sent up a red barrage light, which was taken up in all quarters Straight away our own artillery opened up, and it was a joy to behold One shell after another came yowling down out of the sky and showered the field ahead of us in a fountain of shards and sparks on impact A mixture of dust, stale gases and the reek of flung carcasses brewed up from the craters After this orgy of destruction, the shelling quickly flooded back to its previous levels One man s slip of the hand had got the whole titanic machinery of war rolling During his days in the trenches, Junger and his troops would face French, Indian, and Scots regiments at various times Prisoners were usually treated humanely, and often troops did not fire on stretcher bearers from the other side With all that amiable co operation going around, one wonders why they didn t just drop the guns and go for a beer Junger ponders that himself, in regarding a Brit soldier he had killed p.219Outside it lay my British soldier, littlethan 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 cae of you or me anyI often thought back on him andwith 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 I am happy to enthusiastically recommend this book to anyone, not only war buffs Junger is an excellent writer and this book is one I will read over and over again, it s just that good. Tevfik Turan evirisiyle sonbaharda yay ml yoruz M thi bir kitap I have often lamented the lack of German World War I perspectives Erich Maria Remarque aside, I usually read works by British and French scholars, memoirists, diarists, and novelists Fortunately here is a fine memoir translated from the German by the esteemed Michael Hofmann I like its very flat spare prose Everything is simply allowed to stand for itself bravery, death, corpses, blood, shrapnel, friendship, dreams Plainly declarative, there is no unnecessary coloration, no prolixity, no subtext, little in the way of moral judgement After reading Robert Graves s Goodbye to All That about the efficiency of the German trenches, I found it fascinating to get a sense of how those fortifications were built and how they functioned Niall Ferguson in The Pity of War goes on at some length about the greater efficiency of German soldiers than their opponents J nger has here provided at least one example the Germans simply didn t have the resources munitions, for example that the Entente Powers had They had to dowith less, and did so Hundreds of British soldiers were running forward through a flat communications trench, little troubled by the weak gunfire we were able to direct at them The scene was indicative of the inequality of resources with which we had to fight Had we essayed the same thing, our units would have been shot to pieces in a matter of minutes.Author Ernst J nger was nineteen, the proverbial ephebe, when he went to the front He was at first an enlisted man in the infantry who after a brief convalescence was commissioned an ensign and given responsibility for a platoon He was frequently on the frontlines during the early years, responsible for his short stretch of the line, his poor comrades dropping all around him like flies I suppose the oddest moments are when the tone becomes madcap, devil may care, despite the storm of steel. J nger was wounded with varying degrees of severity fourteen times by his count, except for the last time he was afterward always sent back to the front Such travails you would think might sour a man, yet the attitude he evinced toward the British, which his soldiers shared, was anything but ungentlemanly The British sargeant practically had both legs sheered off by hand grenade splinters even so, with stoical calm, he kept his pipe clenched between his teeth to the end This incident, like all our other encounters with the Britishers, left us pleasantly impressed by their bravery and manliness.In the Introduction to the book translator Michael Hofmann quotes Gide who wrote in his diary Ernst J nger s book on the 1914 War, Storm of Steel, is without question the finest book on war that I know utterly honest, truthful, in good faith I would agree It is the finest book on World War I from the German perspective that I know It also represents an utterly obsolete means of statecraft War s elimination will only happen by way of the collective will of all of us I ask you therefore to please sign the Charter for Compassion Thank you. A Memoir Of Astonishing Power, Savagery, And Ashen Lyricism, Storm Of Steel Illuminates Not Only The Horrors But Also The Fascination Of Total War, Seen Through The Eyes Of An Ordinary German Soldier Young, Tough, Patriotic, But Also Disturbingly Self Aware, J Nger Exulted In The Great War, Which He Saw Not Just As A Great National Conflict, But Importantly As A Unique Personal Struggle Leading Raiding Parties, Defending Trenches Against Murderous British Incursions, Simply Enduring As Shells Tore His Comrades Apart, J Nger Kept Testing Himself, Braced For The Death That Will Mark His FailurePublished Shortly After The War S End, Storm Of Steel Was A Worldwide Bestseller And Can Now Be Rediscovered Through Michael Hofmann S Brilliant New Translation