When Lieutenant Frederic Henry chooses to write home, all he imparts is "I am well" (31). The truth is, he is not well at all. War has hollowed him. He tries to fill this vacuum inside of himself with alcohol, sex with prostitutes, and crude jokes with other soldiers. As an American in the Italian army, he’s an outsider when it comes to both Italian patriotism as well as Italian criticism of the war. He has been caught up in the war, like a pawn on a chess board. War has made him passive. In the opening scenes, his description of the army makes it seem as if he is watching it all as a bystander, at least at first. He naively thinks his role as an ambulance driver will keep him safe; this illusion isn’t shattered until artillery shatters his leg. But even before then, he has seen the cold brutality of this war, a carnage that has stripped him of all of his illusions.

This war experience has made him afraid of his thoughts and where they will lead to, so he tries to cut off thoughts and focus on his immediate transitory needs. This leads to a detached type of storytelling.