Эрнст Юнгер - A German Officer in Occupied Paris - The War Journals, 1941-1945

The Judas tree and the particular tint it lends to the palette of spring. Its pink hue verges on coral red and is bolder than that of the peach blossom, the pink hawthorn, and the chestnut trees. It is also more carnal.

Dreams last night about trilobites that I purchased in the institute of Rinne, the Leipzig mineralogist. I bought them from a catalogue and took the incomplete ones as casts, which were molded with extraordinary care, partly of pure gold and partly of red shellac. Like all my paleontological dreams, this one was particularly concise. In the morning Clemens Podewils paid me a visit. He had accompanied Rommel on one of the inspection tours that he has been carrying out along the Atlantic coast. There is something classical in his attempt to see as many soldiers as possible before the action. The marshal is preparing his defense of the shore: “Our adversary must be destroyed on the water.” This is in keeping with his calling up the reserves.

The landing is on everyone’s mind; the German Command as well as the French believe that it will happen in the next few days. But what advantages could this bring to the English? They are like bankers who derive certain profit from the vagaries of the war in the East. Why should they abandon this highly lucrative role? American wishes notwithstanding, there could be many reasons: Russia could become too strong or too weak. Russia could threaten to negotiate. The existence of Kniébolo militates against this: As long as he is in power, he serves as the glue in any coalition against Germany. He is the sort of person who, in Goethe’s words, “stirs up the universe against himself.”

The situation for Germany is not desperate yet—but how disgusting it is to watch the drama.

Nighttime bombing raids and fierce defensive fire. Agents had predicted four in the morning as the beginning of the invasion.

Finished reading Passe-Temps by Léautaud. Writers can be as different as fish, birds, and insects are from one another. What we want to see and enjoy in their work is the secure mastery of their medium. This is true in Léautaud’s case. Among the French, Chamfort is like him, as Lichtenberg is among the Germans. I note the following quotation: “ Être grave dans sa jeunesse, cela se paie souvent par une nouvelle jeunesse dans l’âge mûr .” [Seriousness in youth often leads to new youthfulness in mature adulthood.]

Coming from Rousseau, we can learn from him how confessions may be served up without sauce. In doing so, you expose yourself to the danger of cynicism. For that, the book is a treasure trove. Furthermore, in a Russian combat manual, Partisan’s Handbook , third edition of 1942, in the chapter on “Reconnaissance,” we read the sentence “Enemy corpses must be camouflaged ”—a clever euphemism for “buried.”

Boring conference on Avenue Van-Dyck. But I had the good fortune that there was a huge horse chestnut tree outside the windows in full bloom. In the noonday radiance, I saw this tree for the first time. Its blossoms seemed to lose color in poor light; then they take on a dull brownish flesh tone. But in full sunlight, their bright coral red hue now stands out against the blue sky. Yet even in the shade, they stand there so vividly, set against the green foliage as though fashioned from rose wax. Later, when they wilt, the petals fall so thickly that they form a deep dark red-colored ring around the trunk. Stripped of its petal dress, the tree produces yet one more lovely sight.

The subject focused on our implementation of battalions from the Caucasus. Major Reese and I have been put in charge of these troops under the command of the ilitary commandant. A tedious and unpleasant business, but thank God General von Niedermayer’s Eastern experts are responsible for the technical side. The general has enlisted huge numbers from among prisoners of war. When these men are kept in occupied territory, all kinds of abuses occur, and these are then, naturally, on our heads. In the Métro, the Parisians now gaze in astonishment at Mongols in German uniform. Yellow tribes of ants are being absorbed. Guarding them calls for particular expertise. In addition to the informers whose identity is known to the units, there are others that the boss consults only in secret, and they are monitored by a third party. Organizational systems like this fall outside our usual norms; they would be impossible if we did not have despotic powers. As a result, new types are showing up among the officers. Niedermayer himself is extremely remarkable. During the World War, he fomented riots in Persia or Afghanistan; I recall Stapel characterizing him as a German Lawrence. [148] Reference to T. E. Lawrence, “of Arabia.” In the Caucasus, I saw pictures of him standing among hundreds of Asians. He combines expertise in geographical, ethnographic, and strategic knowledge and affinities.

In the afternoon, went with Horst and Podewils to visit General Speidel in La Roche-Guyon. We ate together and then took a walk through the park and drank a bottle of wine in the most ancient part of the castle, beneath the Norman parapets.

In the coming action (the signs of which are growing more and more obvious), Speidel will be the decisive mind on the German side. It is good to see that he does not share the manners of other chiefs on the General Staff, whom one sees retreating to their rooms late at night with thick folders full of documents. In his vicinity tranquility tends to be the norm, producing that dead calm appropriate for the axle of the great wheel, the eye of the cyclone. I observe him while he sits at his desk admiring a flower, or making an observation about the Seine Valley, which we can see below us with its meadows and trees in bloom. The telephone rings; he lifts the receiver and puts it back after making a quick decision:

“A tank division is not a trucking company; requisition one of those.”

“What? The Führer cannot judge that.”

In the village the wisteria is in bloom, as well as the white stars of clematis, lilac, the golden rain tree; the first roses, more luxuriant than ever. Enjoying their colors and aromas, we strolled along the garden borders. Speidel quotes the verse from Platen:

[Whoever has gazed on beauty…] [149] The first line of Platen’s poem, “Tristan” (1825). It continues: “is at the mercy of death.”

And then makes one of those utterances that befits a field marshal who is supposed to have oracular powers: “By autumn the war in Europe will be over.”

Read further in the Book of Revelation. This contains one of the greatest insights of the unmediated perception of the construction of the cosmos. Along with it, strange currents appear—such as those that are beginning to break down the rigid symbolism of the ancient Orient. Butterflies with wings bearing eye-spot-patterns emerge from their Egyptian, Babylonian pupal state to return to the splendid glories of their origins. That feature still introduces confusion to the selection today, as if we were witnessing the most exalted transformations. Here one senses the tremendous bifurcations—not a decisive battle, no rise or fall of empires—just one that places display at the center. Above kings and their deeds, there stands the prophet.

Only those marked with God’s seal upon their brows shall escape the great destruction that has been foretold.

I read in this journal during the afternoon. In light of the precarious situation, I had given Hanne Menzel portions of the text to copy, and in the entry from 10 January 1942, I found that I recorded I had seen my dear, departed father in a dream. It is still strange that he died exactly one year later, namely during the night of 10 January 1943. At that hour I saw him in spirit, that is to say, when I was awake. I saw his eyes in the night sky gazing at me more meaningfully and with greater radiance than ever during my lifetime.