"Human nerves quickly get accustomed to the most unusual conditions and circumstances and I noticed that quite a number of men actually fell asleep from sheer exhaustion in the trenches, in spite of the roaring of the cannon about us and the whizzing of shrapnel over our heads"
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War doesn’t just kill; it recalibrates the body’s definition of “normal.” Kreisler’s line lands with the quiet authority of someone trained to hear everything. As a composer and virtuoso, he’s a professional sensor, a man whose life depends on fine gradations of sound and tension. That’s what makes the image so punishing: the roar of cannon and the whizz of shrapnel should be unbearable, yet the nervous system learns to file it under background noise. The intent isn’t to dramatize heroism. It’s to record a biological fact that reads like moral horror: adaptability can look a lot like surrender.
The subtext is that exhaustion becomes its own anesthetic, and in the trenches, even terror is a stimulus you can habituate to. “Actually fell asleep” carries a note of disbelief, as if Kreisler is surprised not by courage but by the body’s ruthless pragmatism. Sleep here isn’t peace; it’s collapse, a temporary truce forced by depleted reserves. The line also implicates modern warfare’s industrial scale: when danger is constant, the psyche can’t sustain constant alarm. It chooses numbness.
Context sharpens the cynicism. A celebrated cultural figure ends up cataloging how quickly civilization’s refinements fall away under artillery fire. The trench becomes a grim conservatory where the lesson is not aesthetics but endurance, and the most “unusual conditions” are normalized with frightening speed. Kreisler is showing how war wins by rewriting what humans can tolerate.
The subtext is that exhaustion becomes its own anesthetic, and in the trenches, even terror is a stimulus you can habituate to. “Actually fell asleep” carries a note of disbelief, as if Kreisler is surprised not by courage but by the body’s ruthless pragmatism. Sleep here isn’t peace; it’s collapse, a temporary truce forced by depleted reserves. The line also implicates modern warfare’s industrial scale: when danger is constant, the psyche can’t sustain constant alarm. It chooses numbness.
Context sharpens the cynicism. A celebrated cultural figure ends up cataloging how quickly civilization’s refinements fall away under artillery fire. The trench becomes a grim conservatory where the lesson is not aesthetics but endurance, and the most “unusual conditions” are normalized with frightening speed. Kreisler is showing how war wins by rewriting what humans can tolerate.
Quote Details
| Topic | War |
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