Sebastian Junger. War. New York: Twelve, 2010.
As reviewed by Ted Odenwald
In early November, President Obama presented Army Staff Sergeant Salvatore Giunta with the Medal of Honor in recognition for a series of heroic actions while under heavy fire from the Taliban in Afghanistan. There are several aspects of this story that are riveting: the perilous situation of an American patrol in the so-called “Valley of Death”; the teamwork that allowed most of the members to survive while reacting with focus and determination; and the humble, self-effacing behavior of the recipient who claimed to be an ordinary person just doing his job. Readers of Sebastian Junger’s War will recognize the setting, the events, and perhaps even the personnel as background for Giunta’s story. Junger, a journalist “embedded” in the 2nd platoon of Battle Company of the 173rd Airborne Brigade, worked with a photographer for a full year (five months in hostile territory) to prepare a documentary film-and this book-revealing the nature of combat in the Korengal Valley of eastern Afghanistan.
Junger calls the Korengal Valley a “sort of Afghanistan of Afghanistan: too remote to conquer, too poor to intimidate, too autonomous to buy off.” The valley, “a small but extraordinarily violent slit in the foothills of the Hindu Kush mountains,” is characterized by 100 square kilometers of steep, rocky and wooded slopes which provide innumerable opportunities for ambushing and sniping. The American forces occupied several bases, “cheerless collection[s] of bunkers and c-wire and bee huts that stretched several hundred yards up a steep hillside.” Unusual forms of protection were the Hescoes, eight-foot cubed wire- basket barricades filled with 25 tons of rock and sand. The Americans also set up several outposts to provide security for the bases. Establishing these bases and outposts involved a continual jockeying for high locations. Consequently, the battle plan for controlling the valley became “a game of tactical leapfrog.” This inhospitable valley “was starting to acquire the reputation as a place that could alter your mind in terrible and irreversible ways.”
Apparently the valley had taken on important symbolic significance to both sides. Years earlier, a group of nineteen American commandoes had been killed in a firefight in which the enemy had been aided by locals. To the Taliban, the battle was the victory of a David over Goliath; to the Americans, it was a savage, treacherous attack. “For both sides the Korengal developed a logic of its own that sucked in more and more resources and lives until neither side could afford to walk away.”
Although the Taliban could not do any severe damage to the American forces who were settled in fortified bases, the Americans could not achieve their mission of cutting off enemy supply routes without launching patrols into dangerous territory or attempting to visit isolated villages, whose allegiances were at best inscrutable. The patrols were exhausting, even without combat, for each man carried at least 80 pounds, including 20 pounds of body armor and 50 pounds of gear, ammunition, and weapons. Though never carrying a weapon, Junger accompanied Americans on various patrols and unit maneuvers, often putting himself in harm’s way, but getting a deep understanding and appreciation for the military teams and their personnel.
Junger’s descriptions of the American soldier in the Korengal Valley are not stereotypical. These soldiers are different, perhaps because of their separation from the brass-perhaps because of their living in constant danger from all-out assaults and ambushes-perhaps because their home lives will have been disrupted for at least 15 months-perhaps because so many of their comrades have perished. The brigade has the reputation of being poorly disciplined; their attire on base was sloppy, or at least very casual-Junger observed men in sweat clothes, shorts, and unlaced boots firing at enemy positions. The platoon was known “for producing terrible garrison soldiers-men who drink and fight and get arrested for disorderly conduct and mayhem…,” often fighting among themselves on base, and initiating newly arriving members with a physical beating. But these men were also exceptionally well trained and were “extraordinarily good at war.”
Junger provides fascinating views of the nature of the warriors with whom he lived. They worked as a unit, understanding that war “…is about winning, which means killing the enemy in the most unequal terms possible.” A unit in combat must fight using a type of choreography, which “requires that each man make decisions based not on what’s best for him, but what’s best for the group. If everyone does that, most of the group survives. If no one does, most of the group dies. That, in essence, is combat.” Many of the soldiers found that combat brought about an addictive adrenaline rush while building an “insanely compelling” desire to “defend the tribe.” “Collective defense can be so compelling-so addictive…–that eventually it becomes the rationale for why the group exists in the first place.”
One of the great ironies that Junger discovered in follow-up visits with discharged soldiers was that they actually missed what should have been the worst experience of their lives. They missed living in an environment “where everything is important and nothing is taken for granted…where human relations are entirely governed by whether you can trust the other person with your life.”
Junger’s work sheds light on the world in which a Sergeant Giunta could emerge as a hero claiming that he was just an ordinary soldier. He had fought in a world where “…the willingness to die for another person is a form of love that even religions fail to inspire, and the experience of it changes a person profoundly.” The author witnessed a world in which the platoon was the soldier’s faith, “…a greater cause that, if you focused on it entirely, made your fears go away…As a soldier , the thing you were most scared of was failing your brothers when they needed you, and compared to that, dying was easy. Dying was over with. Cowardice lingered forever.”
Ted Odenwald and his wife, Shirley have lived in Oakland for 40 years. He taught HS English at Glen Rock High School for all of those years plus one more. Now he is enjoying time spent with his family, singing in the North Jersey Chorus and quenching his wanderlust. Ted is also the Worship Leader at the Ramapo Valley Baptist Church in Oakland.