Paul Fussell and the Thin Red Line of War

The Real War

Fussell notes well that “the real war was tragic and ironic beyond the power of any literary or philosophic analysis to suggest”—mainly because it was not the “Good” War that the propagandists made it out to be for America. America identified itself as the leading power—yet its technology lagged behind the Germans. It relied on sweetening of the war, through songs and films like South Pacific, to turn it into something that Americans could celebrate. But the defining characteristics of “real war” according to Fussell are that it is not pretty, people suffer and suffer badly, and there is no real happy ending or thing to celebrate. Fussell considers it necessary to define it in this manner because we must understand reality if we are to engage with reality—and the reality of war is that it is not a Hollywood musical. War is war; it tears limb from limb; it tears apart homes and communities; it alters irrevocably the futures of all involved; it can be more destructive than any stage 4 hurricane or monster of a tornado. War is slaughter; and, yes, there may be acts of courage and nobility that shine through in war—but war itself is a horrifying thing, and that reality needs to be understood.

Real war is gruesome. Fussell goes into great detail to explain just how gruesome it can get—from walking “for hundreds of yards at a time, stepping on nothing but dead and decaying flesh” to the destruction of Hiroshima to the bombing of Dresden and so many more examples that it becomes almost sickly repetitive. The point is that America was able to celebrate WW2 as the “good” war because it saw none of the actual horrors. American ignorance was preserved by censored images and books about the war. Fussell points out that even in the “popular collections of photographs, like Collier's Photographic History of World War ll, Ronald Heiferman's World War II, A.J.P. Taylor's History of World War II, and Charles Herridge's Pictorial History of World War II” there was no indication of the kind of horrific dismemberment that soldiers routinely encounter in war. Everything was more or less sanitized. Americans could see only swagger, good cheer, confidence, and stout-heartedness in the images of the war: a blown off face; a missing leg; a mutilated torso; a pile of guts; bodies floating in the sea; body parts blown to kingdom come—those could not be shown. Showing that would make war seem too real, too ugly, too hideous. It could cause people to second guess the purpose, the objective, the mission—whether it was actually really worth it. And for a country that has been in perpetual war mode for more than a century, such a presentation simply cannot be allowed.

Why is it necessary to define war in real terms? Because it is a real problem. War is not a solution—it is a punishment, a plague, a perpetual evil that seems impossible to get rid of in our current age. Yet, we never see it in media the way real soldiers see it in real life. We get the sanitized version and thus don’t think twice about it when our politicians and leaders decide to launch yet another war against another people or group or country somewhere in the world. We don’t think twice about it when billions upon billions of dollars are sent overseas along with billions of dollars’ worth of weapons so that countries like Ukraine can continue to fight a losing battle against an enemy we clearly do not even understand (as Tucker Carlson’s interview with Putin recently showed—or as Oliver Stone’s showed before that). We don’t think twice about all the proxy wars going on, with soldiers who are not even American fighting and dying for what must surely be American (or corporate or ethnic) interests. Fussell is absolutely correct in stating that real war has to be defined in real terms—because it is a real reality that few far from the front lines seem to understand.

I have read some of Waugh’s Sword of Honor trilogy and some of Jones’ Thin Red Line. I have seen Malick’s adaptation of the latter novel. I understand the boredom of war. Fussell is right, though, in that we also need to see the horror of war. That is why I recommend Hellstorm—people should see it, should see what the other side went through in WW2, should see what the mainstream media does not set out for them to see on a platter. That is why I am reading Degrelle’s Eastern Front, too, at times, when I get a chance. He lived to tell about it, and tell about it he does. It is through eyes like his that you get a sense of real war. It is like reading Storm of Steel about WW1. Real eyes. Real fighting. Real war. We do not often contemplate the reality of these things. We live in our own sanitized bubbles, safe spaces—protected from anything we don’t like. But let an author like Degrelle take you up to the very front lines and see what he experienced—the bitter bitter cold; the hand-to-hand combat; the sacrifices; the deaths, the toll—it is something that you never forget. Tucker is right to despise those calling for more war in the Middle East, as he has done recently on camera. He is right to say that he does not want his draft-age children being called up to fight a war that has nothing to do with his own country. The reality of war is far to grisly to take these things lightly—and thus he calls out Haley and Shapiro for acting as though it were nothing but just another day at the office. War is not that. War is the forever alteration of all things present—in a brutal, often terrifying way. Degrelle managed it with good cheer and vigor because he was sustained by his own deep spirituality and faith. Who today has such conviction or sense of a higher power guiding and protecting them in such situations? Any war fought by Americans today would open the door to shrieking, raving lunacy, as our own culture has rotted out from the inside from too much dalliance with unreality.

Thus, Fussell’s point is spot on. He sees and says exactly what needs to be seen and said. Those who have experienced war directly typically tell a different tale from the Hollywood propagandists and from the media machine that wants a simple sanitized narrative put out. I like Malick’s adaptation of The Thin Red Line because it captures both the boredom and the sudden onset of violence and slaughter that real war can be. It also captures the spiritual dimension that needs to be realized if one is going to rise above this problem of war. The hero in Malick’s film is played by Jim Caviezel. Mel Gibson saw his performance (so he has said) and knew this was the guy he wanted to play the Christ—point being that Malick understood that the only way out of this problem of war is through faith—and Degrelle actually says the same thing in his book The Burning Souls. War is hell, as the saying goes. But one can avoid it with a little grace—not lies and obfuscation. Truth comes from God. Lies don’t. Telling lies about war will not help us to avoid war or rise above it in the future. Telling the truth about war is the first step to peace.