Must salute officers

The rule that soldiers must salute officers is one of the most visible and bitterly resented instruments of military discipline in All Quiet on the Western Front. Enforced with mechanical rigidity in rear areas, it becomes a symbol of the army's obsession with form over substance, a system that the front-line soldiers learn to obey, manipulate, and ultimately despise.

Training and the Cult of Saluting

The rule is first impressed upon Paul Bäumer and his classmates during their ten weeks of basic training, where they learn that "a bright button is weightier than four volumes of Schopenhauer" and that the army's real curriculum consists of "salutes, springing to attention, parade-marches, presenting arms, right wheel, left wheel, clicking the heels, insults, and a thousand pettifogging details." Corporal Himmelstoss, the "terror of Klosterberg," embodies this system: a small, vindictive postman in civilian life, he uses his authority to torment recruits, forcing them to stand at attention in hard frost without gloves for a quarter of an hour at a stretch while he watches for the slightest movement of their bare fingers on the steel barrel of the rifle. The rule is not about respect but about power—as Katczinsky observes, "if you give a man a little bit of authority he behaves just the same way, he snaps at it too." The army is built on this principle: "one man must always have power over the other." The saluting rule is the most visible daily expression of that hierarchy.

The Rule Under Fire: Meaninglessness at the Front

Once the soldiers reach the front, the saluting rule loses all practical meaning. Under bombardment, there is no time for ceremony; survival depends on instinct and mutual trust, not on clicking heels. When Himmelstoss himself arrives at the front, he quickly discovers that "the front-line isn't a parade ground." The soldiers openly defy him: Tjaden refuses to stand up when ordered, and Kropp sarcastically points to the anti-aircraft shells and says, "Next time, when you go up with us, before they die the fellows will come up to you, click their heels, and ask stiffly: 'Please may I go? Please may I hop it? We've been waiting here a long time for someone like you.'" The absurdity of demanding a formal salute from men who have just survived a barrage is not lost on anyone. The rule persists only in the rear, where officers who have never seen combat can still enforce it.

Paul's Leave: The Rule as Alienation

The most painful demonstration of the rule's power comes during Paul's leave. Walking home through his own town, lost in thought, he fails to notice a major and is immediately berated: "Can't you salute?" Paul apologizes, but the major is not satisfied. He demands Paul's name and regiment, then commands: "Twenty paces backwards, double march!" Paul, knowing his leave depends on compliance, obeys—doubling back, marching up, springing to a stiff salute six paces away and maintaining it until he is six paces beyond. The major then "affably gives me to understand that for once he is pleased to put mercy before justice." Paul pretends to be grateful, but the encounter ruins his evening. He goes home and throws his uniform into a corner. The rule, enforced by a fat, red-faced officer who has never been near the front, drives home the gulf between the world of the rear and the reality of the trenches. Paul realizes he no longer belongs in this "foreign world" where such rituals still matter.

Subversion and the Limits of the Rule

Despite its power, the rule is not absolute. The soldiers find ways to subvert it. When Himmelstoss tries to use it against them at the front, they simply ignore him or answer with sarcasm. The company commander, Lieutenant Bertinck, understands the situation and sides with the men, lecturing Himmelstoss that "the front isn't a parade-ground." The rule is also bent by those with connections: Mittelstaedt, who has power over his former schoolmaster Kantorek, uses the saluting rule to humiliate him, forcing him to stand at attention and obey commands. The rule is a weapon, and whoever holds rank can wield it—but at the front, rank alone is not enough. The men respect officers like Bertinck, who lead from the front, not those who demand salutes from a safe distance.

The Rule as Symptom of a Broken System

The saluting rule is not an isolated regulation; it is a symptom of the army's deeper dysfunction. Katczinsky argues that the war is being lost "because we can salute too well." The obsession with form over function, with discipline over humanity, is what makes the army a machine that grinds down its own men. The rule exists to maintain a hierarchy that has no place in the reality of modern warfare. It is a relic of a world that has been shattered by the first bombardment. The soldiers know this, but they cannot escape it. They must salute, or face punishment. And so they do, with bitter irony, knowing that the men who demand the salute are often the ones who have never heard a shell whistle.