Paul Fussell, 1924–2012

The grouchy scholar who saw irony in war

“I entered the war when I was 19,” literary and cultural critic Paul Fussell once wrote, “and I have been in it ever since.” Sent to France as a second lieutenant in late 1944, he saw his rifle platoon decimated by chilling cold and the shells of ragged, retreating Germans. On March 15, 1945, he was crouching behind a machine gunner who “was struck in the heart, and out of the holes in the back of his field jacket flew little clouds of tissue, blood, and powdered cloth.” The same day, Fussell himself was hit by shell fragments in the back and legs, and his combat days were over. In all his later works, Fussell wrote, “the voice that’s audible is that of the pissed-off infantryman.”

Born in Pasadena, Calif., the son of a corporate lawyer, Fussell grew up in a “stultifying upper-middle-class milieu” that he was keen to reject, said the Los Angeles Times. After the war, he graduated from Pomona College, and then earned a doctorate in English at Harvard before taking up teaching at Connecticut College, Rutgers, and the University of Pennsylvania. “He wrote conventional academic books—on poetry, Walt Whitman, and Samuel Johnson—before creating what he later termed his ‘accidental masterpiece,’ the study of World War I’s cultural impact.”

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