When through the tender veil of the early morning mist the Niederwald Monument gleamed down upon us in the gentle first rays of the sun, the old Watch on the Rhine roared out of the endless transport train into the morning sky, and I felt as though my heart would burst.

Hitler describes the first battle in which he fought (at Ypres in October 1914) in similarly poetic, rapturous terms:

And then came a damp, cold night in Flanders, through which we marched in silence, and when the day began to emerge from the mists, suddenly an iron greeting came whizzing at us over our heads, and with a sharp report sent the little pellets flying between our ranks, ripping up the wet ground; but even before the little cloud had passed, from two hundred throats the first hurrah rose to meet the first messenger of death.

Then a crackling and a roaring, a singing and a howling began, and with feverish eyes each one of us was drawn forward, faster and faster, until suddenly past turnip fields and hedges the fight began, the fight of man against man.

Then, according to Hitler, from a distance the “strains of a song reached our ears, coming closer and closer, leaping from company to company.” Just as “Death plunged a busy hand into our ranks, the song reached us too and we passed it along:  ‘Deutschland, Deutschland ueber Alles, ueber Alles in der Welt!’ (‘Germany, Germany over all! Over everything in the world!’)”

Warfare, for Hitler, was bound to the idea of “Germany.” Because of Germany, Hitler willingly went into battle. Since battle occurred in the name of Germany, Hitler tolerated the mutilation and death of his comrades. Hitler’s relationship with Germany constitutes the beginning and end point of everything that occurred in Nazi Germany.

But isn’t this the case always and everywhere in the modern world? Wars are fought in the name of countries. People die and kill for their nations. The terms “war” and “nation” are inextricably intertwined. It’s very, very difficult to wage war without the backing of a “nation.”

If one wishes to understand “war,” one must understand the meaning of the word, “nation.” “Nation” is the independent variable and “war” the dependent.

In Mein Kampf, Hitler wrote about the return of his regiment to Ypres in July 1917, site of the first battle in which he fought in 1914. He recalled the first battle:

In October and November of 1914, we had there received our baptism of fire. Fatherland love in our heart and songs on our lips, our young regiments had gone into the battle as to a dance. The most precious blood there sacrificed itself joyfully, in the faith that it was preserving the independence and freedom of the fatherland.

In July, 1917, Hitler says, he and his regiment had “set forth for the second time” on the “ground that was sacred to us.” In this ground, the best comrades “slumbered still almost children” who had “run to their death with gleaming eyes for the one true fatherland.”

Hitler’s ideas were banal. He was a nationalist. Everything he did begins and ends with his attachment to Germany. His regiment went into battle with “Fatherland love in our heart.” His young comrades sacrificed themselves in the faith that they were preserving the “independence and freedom of the fatherland.”

On the other hand, one does perceive something different about Hitler—when he writes that his young regiment had gone into battle “as to a dance;” that the most precious blood had sacrificed itself “joyfully;” and that his comrades had run to their deaths with “gleaming eyes.” Here we witness nationalism beyond the call of duty.

How are we to understand the power of these phrases, “our country” or “the nation”: the hold they had upon Hitler—and the hold they have on us to this very day?

Hitler fanatically embraced the most ordinary politic ideas. His ideology was an exaggerated form of the normal. He carried these ideas to an extreme, bizarre conclusion.