" You really don't want to live in this guy's head for 254 unremarkable pages. The sub-title says that this is "a marine's chronicle of the gulf war and other battles" but the book is really only about the marine - Swofford. Not the Marine Corps, not the war. The incidents portrayed are nothing more than backdrop for Swofford to talk about himself -his self-pity and his sense of superiority to others. No matter what Swofford claims to be talking about, the only thing that he really talks about is himself - Consider these two accounts: the first we hear of his girlfriend while he is in the gulf, is when he suspects she is cheating on him. We have no idea who she is, how they met, what she looks like or even what he thinks of her - he merely mentions that he is sure she is cheating because she works in a hotel and claims to "have a good friend". The incident is not about infidelity but about how easy it is for Swofford to play the victim and feel sorry for himself. This is pretty much true of all people in the book. Second example: a friend from the Marine Corps dies back home after serving his commitment. Swofford creates a chapter not about his friend, or grief or insights or revelations about how those might affect him. All his observations are about how he knew the deceased better than the mother and how pathetic the mother is because she didn't really know her son the way Swofford knew him. Not once does he consider that the mother may have known another side of her son, one not shown to a buddy in the corps. Getting into a rough bar fight after the funeral he observes of the strangers in the bar that "those men had actually shown Troy more respect than his family and friends becasue the family and friends had loved Troy and with their selfishness and love had wanted him to again be a part of their world." This sounds more like territorial posseviness - who gets to claim the memory of the deceased - the mom or the other marine who wants him to belong to his own world instead. Swofford shallowly doesn't even see he is doing just what he blamed the mom for. Though he is quick to let you know he carries around books like "Myth of Sisyphus" or "Portable Nietzche", the books are also mere props - ways to show his superiority but the subtly and refelction required to understand these books never comes out. No woman in the book comes out well - they are either there as "pay for" or as girlfriends or wives who will almost certainly cheat on you. While Swofford is capable of writing a sentance and even portraying anectodotes, the book as a whole lacks cohesiveness or depth and becomes monotonous - sort of like he makes the Marine Corps sound - drinking, womanizing, self-pity and rude behavoir in an endless cycle. The only real war going on in this book is that Swofford can't decide if he hates himself or feels superior to everyone else or both.
Upon reading the book, one is asked to believe that scout/sniper platoons are populated with the dregs of the Marine Corps. He doesn't see fit to introduce one character without mentioning the criminal offense that landed that new sniper in his STA platoon. One new indoc had been busted for lusting after a colonel's daughter, another for theft and fraud - throughout the book he describes in depth his own kleptomaniacal, homicidal, suicidal and adolescently sexual compulsions. In short, he never grew up, and hates the Marine Corps for trying to make him do so. His attempts to put his MOS in historical context take up about a page - he briefly explains the origin of the word "ghillie", opines that in World War I German snipers shot from open positions on the battlefield, and that Marines used night vision technology to kill significant numbers of Japanese in the Battle for Okinawa. (They did?) He never gets around to describing his training in much detail, and while he occasionally graces us with a description of the sniper's hardware, it is done merely to illustrate the criminal absurdity of giving great power to simple men.
The author's references to supposedly accurate memories come off often as too contrived and on several occasions simply impossible. For example, he describes the chewing out of an unwilling non-rate by his platoon sergeant as ending with "because I'm an E-6 and you're an E-3!" There is no way that any self-respecting Staff Sergeant in the Marine Corps would ever refer to himself as an "E-6" to a Lance Corporal, especially during an ass-chewing. Never, not even in the Wing.
Professor Swofford's contradictions, both practical and literal, abound. He smugly reflects repeatedly on the elite nature of STA, and then dismisses almost all of his platoon members as psychological loose cannons, thieves, beggars, drunkards, lazy, slovenly, untrustworthy slackers. He describes in haughty, offended detail the obscenities bellowed at him in boot camp, then proceeds to fill the entire book with language that one would not at all expect of a professor of literature. This book is inconsistent and devoid of significance, especially in a post-9/11 world. It is brimming, however, with scatological insight, impotent paranoia, decadent navel contemplation.
On one thing he was consistent, however. The author urinated on himself in boot camp while a DI yelled at him, and he did so again while being shelled in the Gulf War. Obviously, his bladder cannot be trusted under stress. We should all get down on bended knee and thank God he never had to actually shoot anyone. In one memorable, though overwrought anecdote, the author depicts in exquisitely revolting detail his time on the crapper-burning detail in the desert. All Marines well know that when in the field, or in a tent city, the least qualified, most undisciplined platoon members would be selected for this choice assignment. For this duty he was well chosen indeed, though apparently he never came to appreciate the lesson in having been given the assignment.
1. He should have written the book as a novel (preferably a humorous novel). It would have been more believable and less irritating. Of course, as a novel it would not have made a best seller list.
2. He tried too hard for shock value. I was not at all shocked, but was, as above, irritated.
3. The scout/snipers I was familiar with were, in general, somewhat more intelligent than the run-of-the-mill infantrymen, were motivated and respectful, spent most of their time doing map work for the S-2, and generally bitched and moaned when the H&S CO Gunny made them do things like stand CP security. They certainly were not the supermen that Swofford makes them out to be. In addition, my experience was that there really isn't much need or use for snipers in a Marine Corps infantry battalion.
4. I generally dislike and am suspicious of anyone who deliberately knocks the common rifleman, particularly when he is a staff pogue who has never experienced the day-to-day grind of living in the muck and the mud. Swofford spent most of his time in "the rear" and some in the "rear rear".
5. I really distrust people who for one reason or another think that someone with a particular talent or specialty is a cut above the normal Marine.
6. There are far too many tidbits he offers that simply could not have been true.
7. His book is much like Oliver Stone's Platoon - a compilation of anecdotes, hearsay, metaphors and other such apocrypha all neatly compressed into a narrow time frame and presented as a personal experience.
8. I particularly dislike the (universally false) presentation of all officers as complete jerks. For example, I do not know a single officer or stereotype of one who would tell the Marine cleaning a 4-holer to replace a drum right now so that the officer could use the 4-holer. Too, as a member of the battalion staff, Swofford would not have developed such disdain toward all officers, or if he did, would not have lasted long as a STA member.
9. Virtually all the sex [stuff] is overdone and thrown in for, as above, shock value. I suppose Swofford thinks it represents some sort of realism, but most of the stories he relates are the sort that are bantered about in jest. To have us believe that in 1989 (post Tailgate) some Marine [engaged] a broad on the hood of a jitney while it was being driven out the gate at Olongapo (and didn't get court martialed and discharged) is a real stretch. Besides, jitneys probably weren't allowed aboard the base.
10. As near as I can tell, Swofford received "incoming" on two occasions during his 4-day war, none of it being small arms fire. While being on the receiving end of a few artillery rounds or RPGs is an interesting experience, there is absolutely nothing that compares to having several thousand AK-47 or other small arms rounds shot directly at your forehead by a couple hundred guys only a few meters away. His being "nearly killed" by a booby trap is a ridiculous effort at a claim to fame. I am "nearly killed" every time I drive down the highway.
11. The highest of his touted "decorations" is the Combat Action Ribbon; some of the ordinary 0311s he disparages might wonder how he earned it.
12. So he saw a bunch of dead bodies. Big deal.
13. He must have been a big, self-centered jerk at the University of Iowa Writers' Workshop.
14. His book is filled with lies. All too many of them. They are not just exaggerations. Twice within the book he discusses inveterate liars, one being a fellow STA Marine, and the other being himself. There no doubt is something Freudian going on there.
15. Swofford has some real personality problems. His continuous reliance on sex stories goes beyond normality. There is something fishy underneath it all. He needs to grow up emotionally so that he can present immature emotions with some authority.
16. Swofford is at best an ordinary writer, certainly not gifted. "
— Jerome, 1/28/2014