The world of Stephen Crane's fiction is a cruel and lonely place. Man's environment shows no sympathy or concern for man; in the middle of a battle in The Red Badge of Courage “Nature had quietly continued its golden process in the midst of so many devils” (89). Crane frequently anthropomorphizes the natural world and makes it an agent actively working against human survival. From the beginning of “The Open Boat,” the waves are seen as “unjustly and barbarously steep and high” (225), as if the waves themselves had murderous intent. During the battle of The Red Badge of Courage, the trees of the forest stretched out in front of Henry and “forbade him to pass.” After his previous hostility, this new resistance from the forest filled him with a beautiful bitterness” (104). But more pervasive than the mortal feeling of opposition to nature is the mortal feeling of opposition to other men. Crane describes the Darwinian struggle of men as the confrontation of one man against another, not only for the preservation of his life, but also for the preservation of his self-esteem. Henry finds hope of escaping this condition in the traditional notion that “man becomes another thing in battle,” more selfless and connected to his comrades (73). But the few moments in Crane's stories where individuals rise above their own self-preservation are not the typically heroic moments of battle. Crane revises the meaning of the heroic by allowing selfishness to persist throughout combat. Only when his characters are confronted with the absolute helplessness of another human do they rise above themselves. In these dark situations, the characters remember their more fundamental opposition to nature. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an original essay Even before Henry enters the army, his relationship with other humans is defined by antagonism. His mother asked him not to join the army and so he enlisted. He announces his commitment to his mother “with hesitation” (47), suggesting a conscious desire to hurt her by exaggerating the ease of his decision. The moments before his departure are not marked by tender communion, but rather by a strange irritation. The silent antagonism intensifies as Henry reaches his camp. The relationship between the veterans and the new recruits is not explained in pedagogical language, but as in so many naturalistic relationships, the veterans are predators and Henry is the "prey" (51). When the men enter into battle, the reader expects this antagonism to subside, hoping with Henry that “man [will] become something else in battle.” At first, the youth's fantasies seem to come true as he feels himself beginning to coalesce “into a common personality dominated by a single desire” (84). But from the first moment the troops find themselves confronted with a viable enemy, Henry “loses the sense of security” (93). The threat to his self-preservation drives him to flee from battle, and as his worst fear is confirmed, his sense of antagonism returns with gusto. As he runs, he calls his comrades “methodical idiots!” Machine-like fools” (95). It is obvious that the understanding of his own weakness pushes him to denigrate everyone around him, for the sake of psychological preservation. This particular sense of self-preservation creates an antagonism that persists throughout the rest of the battles; “he felt great anger towards his comrades” (99) because he feels that they were always trying to crush his own self-esteem. The shared nature of this antagonism is evident from the almost constant fighting in Union camps, even after successful campaigns. On the battlefield, when the enemy is supposed to be the men in gray, the anger is rather directed "against his officer" (179), or in another situation, "riveted on the one who, not knowing him, l 'had called'. a mule driver” (183); the officers, rather than shouting encouragement, let out blasphemous insults against the men. Even the most seemingly heroic moment, when Henry grabs the falling color guard's flag, is defined by antagonism, as Henry and his friend "shake at it, big and furious... the youth and his friend had a little fight." on the flag” (181), in an effort to secure the glory of carrying the flag for himself. Crane chose war as a venue for exploring human nature, suggesting his fundamental belief in antagonism as the fundamental state of humanity. Yet there are times when humans rise above this antagonism engendering self-preservation. These are not moments of battle where the feeling of a common hope and project unites men. Instead, these moments come in the face of utter hope and helplessness. The most memorable moment comes moments before Jim Conklin's death. As Henry sees the hopelessness of Jim's situation, "he strove to express his loyalty, but could only make fantastic gestures" (112). Unlike his antagonistic relationship with all the other soldiers up to this point, Henry is now willing to do anything for Jim. Henry never believes he can save Jim, he sadly says "I'll take care of you! I swear to God, I will!" (112), but he never dares to utter that common refrain of battlefield literature: “everything will be fine with you.” He is silently aware of Jim's inevitable death, and although it has never been explained as such, it is precisely this understanding that distinguishes this moment from all other moments in which Henry retains his antagonistic sense of self- preservation. This interpretation is supported by Henry's lack of altruism until the next time he is faced with helplessness. Henry further transcends his solipsism when he comes upon a column of men who have burst “from their coats and equipment as from a tangle.” As they moved towards Henry, he "forgot that he was engaged in the struggle against the universe", forgot the reproaches with his comrades to which he had returned immediately after Jim's death, and "looked at the men with agony ". Henry's ability to move beyond his selfish concerns comes not from a sense of shared hope among men, but rather from his recognition of the army as "powerless" (130). The men of “The Open Boat” seem to have found a lasting sense of camaraderie in their own company. Men constantly and happily sacrifice sleep and comfort to give other men a break from rowing. But this feeling of altruism does not arise from a sense of collective enterprise, but rather from a pervasive sense of despair. Antagonism only sets in on the boat when they come into contact with a source of hope. When they approach a small lighthouse, the first man-made structure, they see "four sullen men sitting in the boat and surpassing records for coining epithets" (235). This moment of hope is said to sharpen their minds, and "to their sharpened minds it was easy to conjure up images of all manner of incompetence and blindness and, indeed, cowardice": (236). When they see again.