Napoleon Bonaparte thrashed the Prussian army on several occasions, most notably at Jena-Auerstedt.

Smarting from the defeat, in 1814 the Prussians recognized that it was difficult for any one general, however talented, to defeat a military genius like Napoleon.  But a team of men, a colloquy of experts, each bringing more expertise to bear than a single man like Napoleon was likely to have, could give the general in the field their skills as needed.  Their combined talents could create a “collective genius” that could out-plan, out-organize, and out-fight a Napoleon.

This, the General Staff concept, may not have been born in Prussia, but it was perfected there.  The General Staff lasted until the end of the Second World War and allowed Germany to wield, man-for-man, one of the greatest war machines in history.  Which came with its own set of tragedies, but that’s for a different essay.

I’m here to talk about heroism.  I think the simplest definition of a hero is someone who risks their own life for the benefit of others.  When a fictional hero is imagined, we often think of the classic “a man, alone” scenario.  Or woman, alone.  Western gunmen, barbarian adventurers, licensed-to-kill agents, ship captains pushed by sail or warp drive — I’m very partial to stories in this model, that of the John W. Campbell competent-man hero.  Then there are the anti-heroes, those who, for one reason or another, don’t fit in with their society as a whole but whose actions often benefit it in the end.  Some might argue that there’s a third branch of heroism, the unwilling hero — an ordinary person thrown into extraordinary circumstances.  Hitchcock often built stories around this concept as in The Man Who Knew Too Much or North By Northwest.  Most of the time these morph into traditional heroes, for at some point they’re allowed to chose between safety and pursing a greater good.

In heroic fiction, perhaps the rarest sort of hero is a group where the whole is greater than the sum of the individuals.  Rather than an individual risking all to face a threat, a team of individuals come together — becoming a pack instead of a herd, if you will.  A group of characters risking all in pursuit of a common goal is a thread that appears in everything from Bible epics to Tolkien to grim Georges Clouzot thrillers.

This form of group heroism was best featured in my favorite fantasy novel, 1972’s Watership Down.  It features as heroic characters the most unlikely creatures on earth: ordinary warren rabbits.

Watership Down is really three novels.  In the first part, a visionary rabbit named Fiver foresees his warren’s destruction, and a group of young male rabbits, mostly outsiders unhappy with their lot, decide to follow Fiver and his brother Hazel to a new warren.  Eventually they reach the place of Fiver’s visions, a high down in Berkshire, and it finally occurs to them (like the founders of Rome) that they need some females.  Their search for their Sabines takes them to another warren some distance away called Efrafa, a highly militarized rabbit society under a huge warlord rabbit named General Woundwort.  A failed attempt at diplomacy proves that the warren is badly overcrowded with plenty of discontented does.

Like Napoleon, General Woundwort is more than any one can handle.  He’s huge and willing to fight not just other rabbits, but the usual predators of his kind.  He’ll take on anything but a fox.  He’s put together a frighteningly efficient team of rabbits to help him control Efrafa. They’ve already conquered one nearby warren and have standing orders to round up any rabbits they find wandering nearby and impress them into the Efrafan organization.  They send out patrols looking for a chance to find someone to fight.  Even the usual predators have learned to keep clear of the aggressive Efrafans.

He’s designed Efrafa so disease doesn’t spread easily (Myoxomatosis is called “the White Blindness” and is a major terror to any Chief Rabbit).  It’s practically invisible to men and easily defended against predators, but this requires a degree of regimentation contrary to the nature of rabbits, and there’s a good deal of discontent because of the overcrowding and rules on being above ground.  Attempts to run away will draw attention and predators, so punishments for trying to leave the warren are severe.  The comparison to Napoleon is apt, he’s a warlord with a rare drive and genius, undefeated in the field and unchallenged at home.

The rabbits of Watership Down are a comparative handful when set against the Efrafan monolith. But they each have a valuable strength or skill. Bigwig is the strongest of the bunch, a champion fighter. In a less inspired tale he would probably be the hero of the piece and Chief Rabbit.  Fiver has his visions which guide the rabbits in the right course to take, though sometimes his statements aren’t immediately clear. Dandelion is the fastest runner and also a storyteller. The rabbits draw strength from Dandelion’s stories of El-ahrairrah (“the Prince of a Thousand Enemies”), the mythic rabbit folk-hero. Blackberry is a rabbit of amazing intelligence, Bluebell can cheer everyone with a joke, tiny Pipkin is always willing to pitch in and do his best despite his size, and Captain Holly is a former chief of owsla (the rabbit version of a military/police organization charged with a warren’s security) at their former warren who knows a great deal of fieldcraft, strategy, and possesses more than a normal rabbit’s share of common sense.  An unlikely hero named Hazel leads them.  He’s not undersized but no one would consider him physically impressive, and the insights of brighter rabbits like Fiver and Blackberry often leave him muddled until he can see their ideas put into practice.  For a hero he doesn’t appear to have any great quality at first impressions, but again and again throughout the novel Hazel exhibits what might be the rarest of all qualities in a rabbit: courage.  He’s always first into a strange and forbidding wood, puts himself in physical jeopardy to divert the attention of enemies so that his rabbits can steal away in safety, and is willing to go alone into an enemy camp to speak to a group of rabbits planning to tear him to pieces.

The rabbits of Watership Down find they must get some does or see their new warren they’ve risked so much for dwindle and die.  By combining Hazel’s leadership, Fiver’s insight, Bigwig’s strength and fighting ability, Blackberry’s innovative wit with the efforts of the rest, their actions as a “pack” can overcome even so formidable a rabbit as General Woundwort.  Watership Down is a beautiful tribute to group heroics and should ring true to anyone who’s ever been part of a team that accomplished what at first seemed impossible.