Part memoir, part travelogue, part political treatise, Black
Virgin Mountain: A Return to Vietnam (Doubleday, 196 pp.,
$24), Larry Heinemann’s first nonfiction effort, is a stunning
work. It’s a creative look at the author’s eventful 1967-68 tour
in the Vietnam War with a 25th Infantry Division mechanized
infantry battalion. It’s also a meditation on two of his trips
to Vietnam in the early 1990s, as well as a strong indictment of
the politicians and generals who waged that war.
Heinemann’s
autobiographical Close Quarters (1977) is one of the most
under- appreciated in-county Vietnam War novels. His second
literary effort, Paco’s Story (1987), a biting tale of
the war’s brutal emotional aftermath, won the National Book
Award for fiction. We haven’t heard from Heinemann, in print,
since 1992 when his comic novel Cooler by the Lake came
out.
In his
latest effort, Heinemann offers a compelling narrative framed
around a trip he took to Vietnam in 1992 with fellow American
Vietnam veteran writers as guests of the Vietnam Writers
Association. Heinemann flashes back to his own tour, which
molded him from a nonpolitical son of the working class into a
disillusioned young antiwar soldier. The book’s title refers to
the culminating moment of Heinemann’s 1992 trip, when he climbed
Black Virgin Mountain (Nui Ba Den) and had an epiphany after
visiting the Ban Den Temple at the mountaintop. To wit: “I’m
home, I say to myself; I have arrived home; this place is
home.”
THE DEATH OF A MARINE
Jedwin
Smith’s Our Brother’s Keeper: My Family’s Journey Through
Vietnam Hell and Back (Wiley, 256 pp., $24.95) is a muscular
memoir that deals with the effects of the death of an American
Marine on his family. Smith, an Atlanta Journal-Constitution
editor, was twenty-two, the oldest of six children, when his
beloved younger brother, Jeff, died in Vietnam. The young Smith
served with F Co., 2nd Battalion, 4th Marines, and died after
being hit by a Viet Cong rocket during a firefight in Quang Tri
Province on March 7, 1968. Jeff Smith’s death tore his fragile
family apart.
His mother
retreated into severe alcoholism and an all-encompassing
fixation with the life of her favorite son, neglected her
children, and all but ruined her life. His father—a World War II
Marine beset by post-war emotional demons—left the family for
another woman. Jedwin Smith’s other siblings suffered severe and
lasting emotional problems. Smith himself married, had children,
and worked his way up the journalism ladder, but he also became
a self-destructive alcoholic. “After Jeff died, my
dysfunctionality took on extra dimensions,” he says. “Not only
did I thoroughly embrace alcohol, but I also became kind of
psychotic.” The book has a cathartic ending when the author and
two of Jeff Smith’s fellow Marines make a journey to Vietnam in
2001 to visit the spot where he died.
DUTY
BOUND
Quang Pham
came to the United States as a child with his mother and three
sisters just before the Vietnamese communists took over in April
1975. His father, a South Vietnamese Air Force pilot, stayed
behind. The son grew up in California, joined the U.S. Marines,
and served in the first Persian Gulf War as a helicopter pilot.
The father spent 12 years in a re-education camp. A Sense of
Duty: My Father, My American Journey (Presidio/Ballantine,
266 pp., $24.95), Quang Pham’s well-told memoir, is the story of
father and son.
The
author’s mother spoke no English and had no resources when she
arrived
in California. She struggled mightily, learned the language,
found work, and educated her children. The emotional pressures
were high, though, and eventually ended her marriage. The author
had a rough time assimilating. Joining the Marines presented its
own problems, including anti-Asian racism. The author’s father
nearly died in the re-education camps. His life improved
measurably after immigrating to the United States, but he never
reached anything close to what the family had before 1975.
Quang Pham
tells his story bluntly, without disguising his hatred of the
Vietnamese communists and his criticism of American politicians
whom he believes abandoned South Vietnam. He’s also a critic of
the American antiwar movement and the American news media.
DRAMA IN
BLACK & WHITE
Retired
National Guard Gen. Ezell Ware, Jr., has an eye-opening life
story to tell and does a first-rate job with the help of
journalist Joel Engel in By Duty Bound: Survival and
Redemption in a Time of War (Dutton, 352 pp., $23.95). The
book’s most riveting segments are Ezell’s depiction of growing
up dirt poor and black in racist rural Mississippi in the 1950s
and his stirring recounting of the three weeks he and another
Army helicopter pilot spent evading the enemy in the jungles of
South Vietnam after they were shot down.
Ware
alternates chronological chapters with short chapters sketching
the hellish journey he experienced avoiding the enemy and nearly
starving to death on the ground in Vietnam. Adding to the drama,
Ware discovered that his fellow pilot—who suffered a severe leg
wound—was a card-carrying Ku Klux Klan member. Ware also offers
an evocative recounting of his eventful, combat-heavy first
Vietnam War tour, when he was one of the few black pilots with
the Army’s 61st Helicopter Assault Company.
Ezell’s
political analysis of the Vietnam War is not one of the book’s
strong points. A self-proclaimed “lifer,” Ezell clings to the
all-but-dismissed Domino Theory, claiming that if the United
States hadn’t intervened in Vietnam, “the imperial communist
powers” would “have continued to grab countries.”
NONFICTION IN BRIEF
Lori
Grinker includes a chapter on the wars in Indochina in her
starkly effective AfterWar: Veterans from a World in Conflict
(de.Mo, 247 pp., $47.50), a series of photos and interviews with
veterans from two dozen conflicts around the globe. Grinker, an
internationally acclaimed photographer, provides penetrating
color photos of the veterans, many of whom were severely
wounded. The book, Bill Moyers said, “is one of the most
compelling visual projects that I have seen on the subject of
war and peace.” Several of the photos were on exhibition at the
United Nations earlier this year. For more info, go to
www.afterwar.com
Allan
Richman includes a wry humorous chapter on his year in Vietnam
in Fork It Over: The Intrepid Adventures of a Professional
Eater (HarperCollins, 324 pp., $24.95), an engaging memoir
that concentrates on the side benefits of being the
award-winning culinary critic for GQ magazine. Richmond served
at Camp Davies near Saigon as executive officer with the U.S.
Army Harbor Craft Company. “There’s something I should confess
about my year in Vietnam,” he says. “I gained weight while I was
there.”
The next time the topic of in-country versus Vietnam-era service
comes
up, take a glance at Cold War Clashes: Confronting Communism,
1945-1991 (VFW Magazine, 172 pp., $18, paperback), an
informative, well-illustrated look at little-known engagements,
covert operations, and other clashes on land, sea, and in the
air that took place before, during, and after the American war
in Vietnam. The book, edited by long-time VFW Magazine
editor Richard K. Kolb, includes interviews with veterans and an
honor roll of the 382 Americans killed by hostile action during
that time. For more info, e-mail
shanson@vfw.org
James H.
Wilbanks’ Abandoning Vietnam: How America Left and South
Vietnam Lost Its War (University Press of Kansas, 384 pp.,
$39.95) is a deeply researched, well-written analysis that
focuses primarily on military matters during the Vietnamization
of the war under President Nixon and how that policy led to the
communist victory in 1975. The author, a professor of Combat
Studies at the Army’s Command and General Staff College at Fort
Leavenworth, is a retired Army infantry officer who fought in
Vietnam during the 1972 NVA Easter Offensive.
Sylvia
Ellis, who teaches history at England’s University of
Northumbria, examines an often neglected but important foreign
policy aspect of the Vietnam War in Britain, America, and the
Vietnam War (Praeger, 298 pp., $74.95). Her topic is how the
two nations’ longtime “special relationship” never led to
British support of the war. Ellis looks primarily at the
administrations of Lyndon Johnson and Harold Wilson during the
big buildup of American forces in 1965-66, and shows how the
strong disagreement over the war did not have a strong negative
impact on overall relations between the two longtime allies.
Before
there was the Battle of the Ia Drang Valley, there was Operation
Starlite, the August 1965 battle fought by U.S. Marines against
the 1st Viet Cong Regiment in northern I Corps. That American
victory in the war’s first large engagement is the subject of
Otto Lehrack’s First Battle: Operation Starlite and the
Beginning of the Blood Debt in Vietnam (Casemate, 256 pp.,
$32.95). Lehrack, a two-tour former Marine, did a large amount
of research, including interviewing veterans of both sides, in
this well- written account. Lehrack also looks at the
repercussions of Gen. Westmoreland’s decision to adopt his
ill-fated search-and-destroy strategy rather than the Marine
Corps’ hearts-and-minds pacification policies.
Few people
have as much experience treating the emotional wounds of the
Vietnam War as does Raymond Monsour Scurfield. He served a
1968-69 tour as an Army social work officer on a psychiatric
team at the 98th Medical Detachment in Nha Trang, and he later
worked for the VA for 25 years, directing PTSD mental-health
programs in several cities. Scurfield puts that wealth of
knowledge into A Vietnam Trilogy: Veterans and Post-Traumatic
Stress, 1968, 1989, 2000 (Algora, 232 pp., $29.95,
hardcover; $22.95, paper), an edifying look at the emotional
impact of the Vietnam War aimed at explaining PTSD and helping
those who suffer from it.
Seattle
journalist Rick Anderson uses the example of Vietnam veteran Joe
Hooper, who essentially drank himself to death in 1979, as a
taking-off point in Home Front: The Government’s War on
Soldiers (Clarity Press, 200 pp., $14.95, paper), a stinging
indictment of the government’s treatment of veterans of our most
recent wars. Hooper, a Medal of Honor recipient, is the subject
of a massive biography, Looking for a Hero: Staff Sergeant
Joe Ronnie Hooper and the Vietnam War (University of
Nebraska, 688 pp., $29.95), by Peter Maslowski and Don Winslow.
The book also includes the authors’ opinions on the war and its
aftermath, including their puzzling contention that the
“veterans’ lobby” helps veterans receive VA benefits for faked
PTSD. VSOs are to blame, they say, for enabling veterans to
become “a privileged class with their own extensive welfare
system.” That statement, at the very least, is character
assassination against all veterans who put their lives on the
line for our nation.
Peter S.
Temes uses the Vietnam War as a sometimes touchstone in The
Just War: An American Reflection on the Morality of War in Our
Time (Ivan R. Dee, 217 pp., $17.95, paper), a meditation on
the principle of waging necessary war. Soldier Talk: The
Vietnam War in Oral Narrative (University of Indiana, 240
pp., $49.95, hardcover; $21.95, paper) is a collection of ten
essays by academicians on several areas of Nam War lit,
including poetry, oral histories, the African-American
experience, and women. Editors Paul Budra and Michael Zeitlin
include essays in which voices of veterans closest to the
fighting do the talking.
Art and Lee Beltrone’s Vietnam Graffiti: Messages from a
Forgotten Troopship (Howell, 89 pp., $19.95) is the story in
words (by Art) and pictures (by Lee) of a large trove of
graffiti and drawings scrawled by Nam-bound GIs on the canvas
undersides of their berths in the General Nelson M. Walker,
a P-2 troopship that last saw active duty in 1968 taking U.S.
soldiers and Marines to Vietnam. The book also contains a
history of the ship. As for the canvases on the rotting,
decommissioned ship, the Belrones turned them over to several
museums.