There’s a moment in all of James Lee Burke’s terrific Dave
Robicheaux detective novels in which our flawed hero—the
on-again, off-again Iberia Parish, Louisiana, sheriff’s
deputy—undergoes an awakening. In a flash, Dave overcomes
extreme adversity (most often of his own making), sees things
clearly, and moves on to solve a complex crime. That moment
comes about two-thirds through Burke’s thirteenth Robicheaux,
Crusader’s Cross (Simon & Schuster, 325 pp., $25.95),
another compelling thriller filled with evocative writing and
memorable characters.
The epiphany strikes when Dave, a
former Army LT with a persistent case of PTSD, falls off the
wagon, assaults a bad guy, and is hauled into a local jail. “I
felt like a man who had set fire to his own home in order to
warm up an unappetizing dinner,” Dave says just before he
flashes back to the incident that ended his Vietnam War tour.
While leading his men through double-canopy jungle, a booby trap
cut a PFC in half and “laced my side and thigh with shrapnel
that looked like twisted steel fingers,” Dave remembers. “I felt
myself float toward the canopy, then crash to the earth.”
His men, he thinks, could have left him to die, since he had led
them down the booby-trapped trail. “But that was not their way,”
Dave says. The men pulled him out of the jungle. “They carried
me all night, with no sleep, their arms straining against one
hundred eighty pounds of dead weight, while they humped their
own weapons and packs and radios and sweltered inside their flak
vests, their exposed skin a feast for mosquitoes that boiled out
of the elephant grass.” That’s when, Dave says, “I felt my
long-held fear of death finally use itself up and lift from my
soul the way ash floats off a dead fire.”
That was the light-bulb moment for Dave, and it’s significant
that it has to do with his tour of duty in Vietnam, a defining
period in his eventful life. “The dice had rolled out of the
cup,” he says, “and if the numerical sum on them was snake-eyes
or boxcars, the matter was out of my control, and that simple
conclusion about my lifespan on earth set me free.”
Dave is then set free by Burke to solve a vexing series of
murders with the help of his former New Orleans Police detective
buddy (and Nam vet) Clete Purcell. The case involves—as it
usually does for Dave—a cast of colorful underworld figures,
strange beautiful women, and murderous sociopaths. The action is
set amid the bayous of southern Louisiana and the mean streets
of New Orleans.
James Lee
Burke has been spinning out Dave Robicheaux detective thrillers
since 1987’s The Neon Rain. Few have been as satisfying
as Crusader’s Cross, a novel that holds up until the last
pages when the thrills end, the bad guys are unmasked, and Dave
lives on to fight evil (and his own demons) another day. You
can’t ask for more than that.
BLOODY
McCARTHY
A couple of years ago, a friend—who happens to be a Vietnam
veteran—strongly recommended a book, Cormac McCarthy’s Blood
Meridian, which was published in 1985. This was not just a
recommendation, mind you; the guy said it was the best book he’d
ever read. I’d never read McCarthy but knew his reputation as a
hard-hitting, award-winning literary novelist who set his tales
in the Wild West. His All the Pretty Horses won both the
National Book Critics Circle and National Book Awards in 1992.
I found
Blood Meridian lyrically written, but too dark and too
violent for my taste. Set along the Texas-Mexico border in the
1840s, the book chronicles the blood-soaked misadventures of a
14-year-old (called The Kid) who joins an unimaginably crude,
cruel band of thugs who rampage through the Southwest, killing
Apaches and turning their scalps in for bounty money from the
Mexican government.
McCarthy
(born Charles McCarthy in Rhode Island in 1933) has published
only one novel, Cities of the Plain, since 1998 when I
read Blood, but I had no interest in it. I did, however,
have a strong interest in his latest book, No Country for Old
Men (Knopf, 309 pp., $24.95). That’s because I’d read in a
pre-publication review that the story involved two Vietnam
veterans.
The world
that McCarthy creates in this depressing, violent story is
peopled with individuals who live in a reality filled with hit
men, broad-daylight gun fights, and multimillion-dollar drug
deals. The Vietnam veterans in the tale are Wells, a
professional hit man who served with the Special Forces, and
Moss, a good ole Texas boy who did three tours (1966-68) in Nam
with the “12th Infantry Battalion,” whatever that is supposed to
be. Why is it that hard-guy fictional Vietnam veterans always
seem to have served multiple tours and were either Green Berets,
SEALs, Rangers, or other special forces types?
Like a
character in a Hitchcock movie, Moss gets in way over his head
while minding his own business; in this case, when he’s out in
the middle of nowhere antelope hunting along the Rio Grande. He
winds up going on the lam with more than two million in unmarked
bills—and with two hit people on his and his wife’s trail. The
professional murderers are Wells and a grim, iron-muscled psycho
killer who has physical powers and mental abilities far beyond
those of mortal men. Many folks get terrorized, tortured, and
killed in McCarthy’s grim tale.
FICTION
IN BRIEF
The star of
Joseph Heywood’s Running Dark (Lyons Press, 304 pp.,
$19.95) is Grady Service, a Marine Vietnam veteran working as a
state conservation officer
in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula in 1975. Service finds too much
that reminds him of the war as he gets involved hip deep in a
violent revolt by local fishermen who flaunt the state’s fishing
and other laws. This is the fourth in Heywood’s Woods Cop
mystery series.
Eugene
Sullivan’s The Majority Rules (Forge, 398 pp., $24.95) is
a page-turning legal thriller set in Washington involving an
up-and-coming lawyer and a big-time federal judge. Sullivan is a
retired federal judge, USMA graduate, and Vietnam veteran who
served as an Airborne Ranger. Brit writer Colin Cotterrill’s
fast-paced The Coroner’s Lunch (Soho, 257 pp., $24) is a
mystery novel set in 1975 in Pathet-Lao-run Laos. It centers
around the quest of a 72-year-old state coroner to solve the
murders of three Vietnamese men.
John J.
Nance’s thriller, Saving Cascadia (Simon & Schuster, 352
pp., $25), involves a government seismologist and his uphill
battle to stave off a giant earthquake in the Pacific Northwest.
Nance, the author of 17 books, served as a U.S. Air Force pilot
in the Vietnam War and in Operation Desert Storm. For more info,
go to www.johnjnance.com
VVA member Tom Jones, who served in Vietnam in 1969-70, has
incorporated his wartime experiences into the autobiographical
novel Pride and Greed (PublishAmerica, 199 pp., $16.95,
paper).
Doan Le
first made her name in Vietnam as a film actress, scriptwriter,
and director, and then as a painter. Doan Le also is one of
Vietnam’s top fiction writers, the author of several acclaimed
novels and short story collections. The Cemetery of a Chua
Village and Other Stories (Curbstone, 192 pp., $14.95,
paper) is the first collection of her work to appear in English.
Translated by Rosemary Nguyen with additional translations by
Duong Tuong and Wayne Karlin, these stories are set in a rural
village in contemporary Vietnam.
MEMOIRS
Retired Air
Force pilot John T. Halliday took part in the “secret” war in
Laos soon after he reported for duty with the 606th Special
Operations Squadron at a USAF base in Thailand in 1970. Flying
Through Midnight: A Pilot’s Dramatic Story of His Secret
Missions Over Laos During the Vietnam War (Scribner, 432 pp.,
$27.50) is Halliday’s creatively written account of his part in
the Vietnam War. In it, Halliday makes liberal use of
reconstructed quotes, ellipses, and techno-pilot speak—so much
so that the book often reads more like a novel than a memoir.
The heart
of the book is Halliday’s spirited recreation of an astounding
crash landing he made at midnight on an unlit airstrip in
mountainous territory in Laos and how Halliday and his crew of
eight extricated themselves from a tense situation deep behind
enemy lines. Those actions earned him an Air Force Distinguished
Flying Cross. Among other things, Halliday and crew unexpectedly
ran into Vang Pao (whom the author refers to as “Bang-Pow”), the
general who commanded Hmong troops against the North Vietnamese
and Pathet Lao.
Jon Hovde,
who volunteered for the draft, arrived in Vietnam in October
1967
and was assigned to Company A, 4/23rd Mechanized of the Army’s
25th Infantry Division based in Cu Chi. On January 8, 1968, in
the Iron Triangle’s Ho Bo Woods, Hovde was severely wounded when
the APC he was driving hit an anti-tank mine. Or, as the Western
Union telegram to his parents two days later put it: “His
vehicle hit a hostile mine resulting in traumatic amputation of
his left leg above the knee, his left arm below the elbow and
the ring finger of his right hand.” Hovde’s memoir, Left for
Dead: A Second Life After Vietnam (University of Minnesota,
192 pp., $22.95), is a well-crafted look at his brief Vietnam
War tour and an uplifting recounting of his difficult, but
successful, readjustment to life back home.
Retired
USAF Lieutenant Col. Ed Cobleigh flew 375 F-4 Phantom
sorties—including more than a thousand hours of combat time—out
of Ubon Royal Thai Air Force Base during two Vietnam War tours
with the 433rd Tactical Fighter Wing (“Satan’s Angels”) and the
8th Tactical Fighter Wing (the “Wolfpack”). Cobleigh offers what
he describes as a “series of brief accounts of some of the most
significant aerial combat” in which he took part in his
well-written memoir, War for the Hell of It: A Fighter
Pilot’s View of the Vietnam War (Berkeley, 288 pp., $15,
paper).
Retired
USAF Col. Allan T. Stein began his military service in World War
II. Near the end, he did a 1966-67 tour in Vietnam as operations
officer for the 360th Tactical Electronic Warfare Squadron based
at Tan Son Nhut. Stein gives a by-the-numbers account of his
military career in Into the Wild Blue Yonder: My Life in the
Air Force (Texas A&M University, 200 pp., $29.95). It
includes his strong opinions about the American press corps in
the war. Much of the reporting, Stein says, “was self-serving
[by] reporters trying to make a name for themselves or bucking
for promotion.”
REFERENCE DESK
Three new
Jane’s high-quality paperback Recognition Guides from
Collins Reference, the state-of-the-art comprehensive
illustrated reference works crammed with data, include info on
Vietnam War military hardware. They are the fourth edition of
Jane’s Aircraft Recognition Guide (528 pp., $24.95) by
Gunter Endres and Michael J. Gething; Jane’s Vintage Aircraft
Recognition Guide (493 pp., $24.95) by Tony Holms; and the
fourth edition of Jane’s Guns Recognition Guide (464 pp.,
$24.95) by Ian Hogg and Terry J. Gander.
Schiffer
Military History has three new lavishly produced and highly
detailed titles dealing with Vietnam War military hardware:
LOACH!: The Story of the H-6/Model 500 Helicopter by Wayne
Mutza (144 pp., $29.95, paper); 50 Years of the U-2: The
Complete Illustrated History of the “Dragon Lady” by Chris
Pocock (440 pp., $69.95); and USAF F-4 and F-105 MiG Killers
of the Vietnam War by Donald J. McCarthy, Jr. (136 pp.,
$59.95). McCarthy served a 1966-67 tour with the USAF 3rd
Tactical Fighter Wing at Bien Hoa Air Base in Vietnam.
Robert
Cowley, the founding editor of Military History Quarterly,
has put together The Cold War: A Military History (Random
House, 478 pp., $27.95), a worthy collection of two dozen
essays. That includes eight dealing with the Vietnam War by
Douglas Porch, Williamson Murray (on Dien Bien Phu), Laura
Palmer (on Gen. Westmoreland), James Warren (on Khe Sanh),
Ronald Spector (on Kham Duc), Marilyn Elkins (on MIAs), Geoffrey
Norman, and Stephen Ambrose (on the 1972 Christmas bombing).
Brit
military writer Will Fowler’s The Special Forces Guide to
Escape and Evasion (St. Martin’s, 192 pp., $24.95) is an
illustrated, how-to for those of us who get stuck behind enemy
lines without a plan for getting home alive. Fowler includes
examples of helicopter extraction techniques used in the Vietnam
War, as well as details of the November 1970 Son Tay prison raid
in Vietnam—the one that didn’t find any POWs.