I too am yearning for warmth, for something human in this eerie desolation. At night, the landscape emanates a curious cold; a sort of emotional cold. It makes you start to shiver when you cross an unoccupied part of the trench that is reserved for sentries; and if you cross the wire entanglements, and set foot in no man's land, the shivering intensifies to a faint, teeth-rattling unease. The novelists haven't done justice to this teeth-chattering; there's nothing dramatic about it, it's more like having a feeble electric current applied to you. Most of the time you're just as unaware of it as you are of talking in your sleep at night. And, for another thing, it stops the moment anything actually happens.
~ From Storm of Steel by Ernst Jünger, p. 44