"War" by Sebastian Junger

In trying to develop an approach to review this book, the process plagued me with the problem I often discover in reviewing non-fiction books: many times they are structured in a non-linear fashion.  Absent that narrative aspect to the story, I struggle over where I should begin so as to communicate what the book does say.

The interest I carry in this book is obvious – or, at least, it should be.  Despite my lack of service in the military, and despite a rather spotty athletic record during my youthful high school years, being born male in gender I still retain that uniquely male characteristic of being drawn toward the exhibition of power.

It is the challenge of overcoming a physical barrier, a physical threat to one’s safety, physical intimidation from an adversary: the raw power required draws males on all levels.  It breathes within our makeup; it pulls us closer to help realize our potential.  That inbred natural hunger drives us firmly towards fellowship with other men, bonding us into units, where we discover and learn just how great a mountain our combined strength can level to the ground.

Thus, ‘War’ caught my attention – a very ‘guy’ thing.

Yet with that much said, my beginning into this book ran horribly counter to such a hope.  I saw undisciplined young men (more teenage boys dragged from the football practice fields than any examples of disciplined fighting warriors) who seemed more interested in presenting their bodies as living canvas for any tattoo artist in the neighborhood, more foul in their language than the clichéd ‘cussed like a drunken sailor’ mantra, and more lacking in any real focus as to why they were, where they were, and what they were meant to achieve.  This began to smell like the typical liberal journalist rant against the war.  “Bring the troops home!”  “Unjust war.”  Blah, blah, blah…

Because of that faulty impression early on, I nearly chose to abandon this book – something I never do – caring not to hear another secularist diatribe against war and the “imperialism” of the American military blowing up civilians – women and children especially.  However, fortunately, I continued my read; and as I delved further into the story, my perception gradually changed.  So much so, I now, happily, repudiate all prior comments, judging this book on erroneous standards.  I permitted my prior knowledge of journalists and Hollywood types alike, who universally abandoned all pretense of objectivity, spouting instead their ideologically driven political bent, to govern my own objectivity when it comes to assessing a new work.

Sebastian Junger avoids this trap.  He writes his story absent any political ideology.  He assesses his experiences without any agenda in mind.  In my view, he walked into being imbedded with the military unit as a clean slate – completely open-minded – listening to and hearing all opinions and beliefs.  Such a position reigns as far more valuable to the people desiring to understand this new warfare, hoping to comprehend the world of the soldier, looking to develop some level of simpatico with the Afghani people than anything where one political ideology attempts to destroy another.

The men Junger writes about, I saw them as a team of Wild West gunslingers, sent into the quiet village of humble farmers, fighting to rid them of a the raiding band of thieves stealing their crops.  Indeed, much of this story can be viewed in the styles of classic westerns like ‘The Magnificent Seven’.  Some of the men could fill the shoes of Clint Eastwood’s ‘the Man with No Name’ character.  This book could be detailing a scenario overseas highly reminiscent of our own era between the close of the Civil War and the beginning of the industrial revolution.  The expansion west opened vast stretches of land where lawlessness was the norm.  Is our own past that much different than the current present of the Afghani people?

Naturally, every scenario is different – different people, different time, different places on the globe.  Yet, in my assessment, viewing this current conflict through the prism of history, where if we fail to learn its lessons we are doomed to repeat them, the western theme seems to apply.  Granted, military discipline is required; and it puzzled me when Junger writes of soldiers who seemed to run counter to what it takes to fashion an effective fighting unit.  Both George Washington and George Patton whipped the men in their command into effective shape to win their respective wars.  But on the opposite side of the equation (two sides exist to every story) the example of Civil War generals Robert E. Lee and Ulysses S. Grant stands.  No two differing styles of soldiering could one ever compare and contrast.  Grant was rough and tumble – hard around the edges, unimpressive in his demeanor; Lee was the picture of nobility, a regal portrait of honor wherever people saw him.  Both men were highly regarded and immensely successful at the challenges faced.

Therefore, the only conclusion to draw is room exists for differing styles of soldiering.  Washington sought an army of men who fought together as a unit.  Junger writes of a particular ambush where ‘fighting as a unit’ was absolute if survival was to be attained.  When attacked, the man had to respond immediately and with a concerted choreography in fighting back.  The ‘what’s best for me’ attitude of the individual, if ever considered, the men would die.  Men would advance; others would cover them with fire; it was a ballet of sorts, where everyone knew their part and played it to perfection.

One criticism I came away with, and it has nothing to do with the book itself was the seemingly lack of any concerted strategy, which may reflect back upon the western theme.  The men went out on patrols.  They conducted various operations.  But where is the strategy in rooting out the Taliban, the enemy, for good so as to turn over to the Afghani people who believe in freedom, a free country?  All I could detect was a mentality of going out on patrol, waiting for the enemy to strike, (which came across as putting the military out as bait), calling in the Apache helicopters to wipe them out, and hoping the hearts and minds campaign with the townspeople will  actually yield more fruit.

This was another interesting point Junger develops.  The military could go into an area, take a hill, assume control of the physical terrain, but if they did not carry the hearts of the people who resided in that area, the physical terrain occupied meant practically nothing.  This was part of the psychology of war Junger explores throughout the text.  Fascinating reading for the mind wishing to delve deeper.

In my naïve non-military thinking, I would presume a general, or any soul in command, would look to discern the enemy’s strongholds, send the military into those places to wipe them out, take the territory permanently away from the insurgent population through an exhibition of overwhelming force only an enemy with an absolute death wish would ever consider opposing, and after ten years manage control of the country. 

Currently, no one seems to exercise any control.

Where lies the end game?  Americans prefer a goal in which to shoot for, a prize awaiting their claim – I presume all peoples do.  Yet, here there is no goal to attain for the soldiers to win; there is no victory to shout from the hilltops.  When the war is over, will any celebrations erupt?   In WWII, it was to march into Germany and get Hitler.  In the Civil War, it was to capture Lee’s army.  What is it in Afghanistan?

Junger never really spends much time, if any, on this issue; and it is a minor point that serves only as a burr under my own saddle.  His focus holds steadfast upon the men themselves, the brotherhood that develops in this bonding – a brotherhood he finds himself equally swept into as a part.  It is that sense of purpose in being immersed into a group of men; and through this, Junger develops a radical theory that runs counter to the standard politically thought of our current time regarding war.

If one has never experienced battle.  If one believes everything heard in the news, and implicitly trusts the politicians of our government as authorities on whatever issues they espouse, one would assume the view of the military and war in an extremely negative light, viewing any action as solely a defensive measure engaged in upon the home soil.  One would view identify soldiers as extremely capable in the military sophistication weaponry has become today; one would see those who are enlisted to fight, as extremely disciplined and focused in military protocol.

One would never see the warriors Junger presents in this book, men who are fighters like the men of old, when battle was as much a part of one’s life as football season is every fall and winter. 

They are not the cowards the media, and the press, and the politicians would indirectly portray them as.  They do not fear death – though they face it every other day.  The fear they have – and this turns the entire matter of PTSD on its head – is letting their buddies down.  The trauma many of them experience is from the disconnect is from the brotherhood of which they are a part.

Naturally, fear of the battle, of death lingering on the end of the next bullet to zing your direction, it is reality in the hearts of some men who face these circumstances.  Junger touches on this when he relates a tale of the failure rate of paratroopers in WWII.  The more timid a man was in jumping from the platform in training, the more likely failure was to result when the real thing occurred.  But this reality amongst soldiers sent into the fray to fight and to kill, it is so minor a thing.  To raise it to a level of prominence, as if it was a major consideration on how to address issues in the American military, is to totally disregard the reality for which the military – in any country - exists.  Men bonded together into a brotherhood can level mountains and change the course of rivers; they can rescue the townspeople from bandits and guarantee freedom to the enslaved of a dictator.  They can do miraculous things in this march of freedom if only they are allowed the room, and blessed with the trust of a country that bestows upon them absolute faith, to do so.