dan collier

I’ve been impressed since I first noticed Jim Webb, the current junior Senator from Virginia, during his run for his Senate seat. While I don’t agree with all of his politics, he seems more of a plain-spoken man with good intentions than the average politician.

The recent article on Jim Webb in the New York Review of Books sparked my interest in his writing, and I recently finished Fields of Fire. Webb, a highly decorated combat Marine in Vietnam, wrote Fields of Fire in 1979 as a fictionalized account of the real war that was fought by men dying for nameless hills in endless jungle only to give them up a day or two later.

In the excerpt below, a newly arrived Lieutenant Hodges (a central character) is being briefed by a battle-scarred Major prior to his deployment to his troops in the bush. I think it both gives the flavor of Webb’s writing and a synopsis of his view of the war:

The Major offered Hodges a small, challenging smile. “They go wild, Lieutenant. And there’s nothing you can do about it. You’ll go wild, too. Wild as hell. You spend a month in the bush and you’re not a Marine anymore. Hell. You’re not even a goddamn person. There’s no tents, no barbed wire, no hot food, no jeeps or trucks, no clean clothes. Nothing. You’re an animal. It gets so that it’s natural to squat when you take a shit. You get ringworm and hookworm and gooksores. You roll around in your own filth. You forget how bad you smell. Dead people, guts in the goddamn dirt, miserable civilians, it all gets sort of boring. You cry when your friends are killed, but a new friend comes in on the helicopter a few days later, and the dead friend becomes enshrined, a martyr to friendship. You teach the new friend about him, and you all remember him. It’s very romantic.”

“It doesn’t sound romantic.” [replied Hodges]

“That’s after a month. Or two. But Lieutenant. When you do it for six, or nine, or even longer, by Christ, you’ll never shake it. The bush gets in your blood and you hate anyone who hasn’t fermented in his own stench for months, or stood inside a dirt hole all night, waiting to kill a man who’s trying to kill him first.”

Major Otto scrutinized Hodges. “Oh, yeah. I’ve done a lot of thinking about it. That’s something a grunt isn’t supposed to do.” He chuckled again, a sort of dry bark. “But what else can a man do in An Hoa? Oh. And An Hoa. It becomes an oasis. You like An Hoa, Lieutenant?”

“I hate it.”

“You’ll like it when you get back to it from the bush, I guarantee. So. What kind of person can take it, for months on end?”

Hodges felt uneasy. He had expected the Major to wave the flag and talk about Iwo Jima, then send him aboard a resupply helicopter with fire in his heart.

“Someone who is very dedicated, sir. Either that or someone who is very crazy.”

“Well, there you are. That’s it in a nutshell. You just hit the nail on the goddamn head.”

Fields of Fire has been well reviewed by critics and grunts for its detailed account of a story told many times over. As one may expect in a book about the US Marines by a US Marine, the book does fail to offer a realistic picture of the Vietnamese as a people fighting colonialism and occupation. But I’ve seen many of the Hollywood movies, read a handful of books, and heard my share of Vietnam War stories. If I was going to recommend one book or movie about the American war in Viet Nam, it would be Fields of Fire.

books & foreign affairs posted by: dan  @  18 Jun 2008 22:36 | Comments (0)

I met Henry, he was 4 days old. He’s awesome.

my photo & photos posted by: dan  @  14 Jun 2008 13:59 | Comments (0)

The start of the day for a fishing boat in Boston Harbor, taken from Fish Pier St on June 13, 2008 at 5:27 AM.

my photo & photos posted by: dan  @  14 Jun 2008 13:56 | Comments (0)

The first photo is from the Great Blue Hill observatory in Milton, MA. It was around 6:30 AM as I walked the half mile trail up the hill and I crossed paths with a whitetail buck, doe and fawn on the way.

The next photo was taken from Wollaston Beach, Quincy.

Both photos taken June 13, 2008.

my photo & photos posted by: dan  @  14 Jun 2008 13:51 | Comments (0)

As I prepare to move abroad in July, to a locale not yet chosen, I have been rereading the works of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Emerson is among the Old Masters that I reread for familiar wisdom, along with Lao Tzu and Hunter S. Thompson, but I last read RWE at length during the summer of 2001 as I prepared to move back to the US from Stockholm. The ease with which Emerson dismisses society’s judgements is inspiring as I hear the complaints politely rephrased as questions from people who are already happy or secure with their station and location in life. I admit I might not even realize if I found such a place, but I’ll definitely know when it is time to move on.

So here are some passages I found too good not to post:

A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — ‘Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.’ — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.

Self-Reliance

In this kingdom of illusions we grope eagerly for stays and foundations. There is none but a strict and faithful dealing at home, and a severe barring out of all duplicity or illusion there. Whatever games are played with us, we must play no games with ourselves, but deal in our privacy with the last honesty and truth. I look upon the simple and childish virtues of veracity and honesty as the root of all that is sublime in character. Speak as you think, be what you are, pay your debts of all kinds….

There is no chance, and no anarchy, in the universe. All is system and gradation. Every god is there sitting in his sphere. The young mortal enters the hall of the firmament: there is he alone with them alone, they pouring on him benedictions and gifts, and beckoning him up to their thrones. On the instant, and incessantly, fall snow-storms of illusions. He fancies himself in a vast crowd which sways this way and that, and whose movement and doings he must obey: he fancies himself poor, orphaned, insignificant. The mad crowd drives hither and thither, now furiously commanding this thing to be done, now that. What is he that he should resist their will, and think or act for himself? Every moment, new changes, and new showers of deceptions, to baffle and distract him. And when, by and by, for an instant, the air clears, and the cloud lifts a little, there are the gods still sitting around him on their thrones, — they alone with him alone.

Illusions

books & ideas posted by: dan  @  11 Jun 2008 7:57 | Comment (1)

Around 10 days ago, my sister-in-law Charlotta and her husband Fredrik had their first child, a beautiful healthy baby girl they named Lenore. Here she is:

This morning, my sister Kerry and her husband Jim had their first child, a beautiful healthy baby boy they’re planning to name Henry. Here he is:

And not to be forgotten in the overflow of cuteness, my baby - Jackimo - turned 6 on May 30. Here he is with his equally adorable sister, awoken early for presents and birthday songs in bed:

my photo & photos posted by: dan  @  09 Jun 2008 9:42 | Comment (1)