"The Profession" by Steve Pressfield

The Profession
By Steven Pressfield
Crown Publishers, 2011, $ 25.00
ISBN # 978-0-385-52873-3

It’s 2032 and the world is still at war in the Middle East and Central Asia. Iran is in flames, uprisings in Saudi Arabia, and a coup in Tajikistan. Still a geopolitical mess of oil – religion – politics – corruption; it seems the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Or perhaps not, as the fighting and dying has changed from the proud Marines and soldiers of today to paramilitary forces fighting under private banners and funded by the likes of ExxonMobil, BP, Credit Suisse, and Lukoil - a not-unthinkable scenario where a mixture of Blackwater, private enterprise, and national interests fight and scheme for supplies of oil, food, and raw materials.

Author and former-Marine Steve Pressfield’s newest book “The Profession” lives up to his reputation for combining gripping action with intellect and principle. Following his “Honor-Courage-Commitment” theme honed in “Gates of Fire” and “The Afghan Campaign,” Pressfield uses one of the protagonists in the story as his narrator and tell the story of conflict in the 2030’s from his boots-on-the-ground level.

The storyteller is one Gilbert "Gent" Gentilhomme, a former Marine serving under his former Marine commander, Gen James Salter. Both are mercenaries; highly paid warriors who still live by the bonds they learned as Marines. War, be it either conventional war, peacekeeping in Africa, or quelling rebellions in Central Asia, is more than just a series of violent incidents and as in his prior books, Pressfield introduces the reader to combat-related concepts of loyalty, love, and fidelity.

It’s difficult to decide on good and evil when war is being fought by surrogates, and in the “The Profession”, both Gent and Salter find their straight-forward, hard-charging Marine background at odds with the nuances of their current situation.

Similar to those Marines who fought the Sunni’s in Ramadi in 2005-2006, yet found them to be allies in 2008, Gent seeks safety and solace with his fellow troops, while trusting Salter to deal with big picture geopolitics and those dubious sorts of despots and oligarchs.

Pressfield’s clearly done his research on the complexities of today’s 3-block war, including an embed in Marja last year and the intricacies of international politics. “The Profession” blends an opening action sequence as brutal as any RT Michigan ambush with a renegade mercenary army later invading and seizing a sovereign state – a not impossible scenario perhaps taken from Blackwater’s 2004-2005 thoughts buying ships, forming a MEU, and being hired by the United Nations.

A combination of nuance and incredible violence, “The Profession” remains a story of loyalty; of Gent and his men, but more important, Gent and Salter to each other. But it’s these bonds of loyalty and love, sharpened in their Marine Corps training and ethos, that Pressfield uses in his surprising ending in which Salter stretches
“Honor-Courage-Commitment” to its absolute limit. Honor and Commitment: to your fellow Marine, to your country, or to who or whom?

Highly recommended!

Noble Warrior; The Story of MajGen James Livingston; USMC-Medal of Honor

Noble Warrior; The story of MajGen James Livingston, USMC, Medal of Honor
By James E. Livingston, with Colin Heaton and Anne-Marie Lewis
Zenith Press, 2010, U.S. $28.00
ISBN # 978-0-7603-3807-0

So few Medals of Honor; yet so many are awarded for those quick and usually fatal decisions made in combat; so many citations are of those young Marines who threw themselves on a hand grenade or charged a pillbox. With some 70% of Medals of Honor awarded posthumously, it is rare to have the opportunity to learn about the action from the Marine himself.

“Noble Warrior; The story of MajGen James E. Livingston, USMC (ret), Medal of Honor” provides a unique window into the world of a Medal of Honor awardee who is both a survivor and an officer. An autobiography written with experienced military authors Colin Heaton and Ann-Marie Lewis, MajGen James Livingston’s book gives the reader a look at the man behind the medal. From enlisting in the Marine Corps to fighting in Vietnam to his post-combat career, Noble Warrior is a well-written book that begins to shed light on the life of a most interesting Marine.

Not quite a depression baby; Livingston was born just months prior to the start of WW2 in rural Georgia. With his family economically better off than most, he relates how his parents were unique in ignoring the segregationist practices so prevalent at that time, and how those beliefs carried over to his Marine Corps years. “I always believed,” he wrote, “in what Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said…that a man ‘should be judged by the content of his character and not by the color of his skin.’ This was never truer than on the field of battle, and it is one of the great hallmarks of our beloved Marine Corps”

This was a unique code of ethics for a Georgia boy during those turbulent times, and equally unique was his father’s pushing him off the farm in order to obtain a college degree. Perhaps not so surprising was his joining the Marine Corps, in his eyes ‘the most aggressive outfit,’ Soon Livingston received his commission as a 2nd Lieutenant, sent to Camp Pendleton, and deployed on a southeast Asian float. After a second cruise, Livingston threatened to resign if he was not given command, so he was shipped to Vietnam as commanding officer of Echo Company, 2nd Bn, 4th Marines. The die was cast.

Just weeks earlier, Echo had suffered 60% casualties and Livingston made certain that any casualties suffered in the future would not be due to slipshod training. A hard-charger even by Marine standards, Livingston explains his rationale for the never-ending and sometimes ruthless training programs for which he was known “I led by example,” he wrote, “and was always shaved, had my gear in order, and was always in the front of a fight or PT run. You have to lead from the front…anyone can shout orders from the rear, but I would not want to follow such “leaders” into harm’s way either.” Sound policy as he led his Marines during the firefights so prevalent in pre-Tet Offensive’s Quang Tri Province.

Most actions resulting in a Medal of Honor are short in duration; Noble Warrior recounts how Livingston earned his during the pitched battle at Dai Do. Written in an understated style that belies the intensity of the fight, Livingston narrates how an understrength battalion landing team found itself locked in a three-day battle against 7,000 experienced North Vietnamese regulars.

With Golf 2/4 finding unexpectedly heavy resistance when assaulting Dai Do, Livingston’s Echo Co was ordered to assist. After their first two attacks stalled, he personally led the reserves in a charge that broke the enemy lines. Although wounded twice, Livingston directed his Marines in killing the remaining NVA fighting from their bunkers. Only 35 of more than 100 Marines remained combat-effective.

Yet the fight was far from finished. Hearing that Hotel 2/4 was pinned down by numerically superior NVA forces, Livingston moved the remainder of Echo to Hotel’s position where he led the merged companies in yet another charge. After an hour of hand-to-hand fighting, the Marines owned the field…for the moment.

Later in the day the reinforced NVA attacked in force, so Livingston ordered supporting fires and smoke in order to bring the Marines out in a phased withdrawal. Wounded for the third time, he was firing at the NVA when two Marines dragged him out.

Recovering from his wounds, Livingston returned to Vietnam, and under the command of Col Al Gray (later Gen, CMC), was involved in the desperate evacuation of Americans and Vietnamese as Saigon fell in 1975.

Retiring from the Marine Corps in 1995, Noble Warrior further describes how Livingston went on to a successful public service career. Written in a blunt and unyielding style that co-authors Heaton and Lewis wisely left unchanged, “Noble Warrior; The story of MajGen James E. Livingston, USMC (ret), Medal of Honor” is well worth reading.

Senator's Son

There is truth, and there is 'The Truth', and in "Senator's Son", former Marine officer and combat veteran Luke Larson gives us the latter.

Based on his two tours in Ramadi, Larson gives the reader a peek into the world of the junior Marine officer on his first combat tour...age early 20's, highly trained and motivated - and worried spitless that he won't measure up to Chesty Puller, Alexander Vandergrift, John Yancy, and all the other awesome Marines whom he'd studied at TBS and earlier.

Larson brings the reader into his world as the young lieutenants plan their missions, interact with the Marines in their commands, relate with their families back stateside, and all the while worrying how to win a battle in which he's not even sure who is the enemy.

His writing is crisp, clear, and very, very honest; if the reader is upset by the directness and earthy humor of young men at war...then stick to watching M*A*S*H re-runs.

And for those of us who spent time in Ramadi...his mentions of OPVA, Route Michigan, Snake Pit, and 17th St Station are dead-on accurate...you can give this book to your children in 20 years and say "I was there; this is what it was like."

This is Larson's first book. Let's hope we see more from him. Bravo Zulu, Marine - Well Done !!

"Inside Story of Pat Tillman" by Jon Krakauer

Jon Krakauer's Inside Story of Pat Tillman

"Into Thin Air" author Jon Krakauer goes behind the scenes to uncover the life and death of Pat Tillman in his latest book, "Where Men Win Glory"

By JEFFREY A. TRACHTENBERG
Wall Street Journal

Shortly after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, football player Pat Tillman walked away from a lucrative contract offered by the Arizona Cardinals and instead joined the Army.

In his fifth book, "Where Men Win Glory," journalist Jon Krakauer explains why, broadening Mr. Tillman's story by weaving in an account of America's deepening involvement with Iraq, Pakistan and Afghanistan. He also details how Mr. Tillman was cut down by friendly fire in Afghanistan on April 22, 2004, and examines the disturbing aftermath.

Mr. Krakauer, 55 years old, has long been attracted to risk-takers. In "Into the Wild," he profiled Christopher McCandless, a young adventurer who starved to death in Alaska; and in "Into Thin Air," he chronicled a group of mountain climbers who tackled Mount Everest with heartbreaking results.

In many ways, Pat Tillman became the public face of a new generation's commitment to country and service. In addition to being a superb athlete, he was an iconoclast -- a free-thinker who read widely and admired those who challenged the status quo. After enlisting in the summer of 2002, he joined the United States Army Rangers, where he relished the grueling training program. He died at the age of 27.

The cause of Mr. Tillman's death was not at first accurately reported by the military, leading Mr. Tillman's family to allege that a cover-up had taken place. A Defense Department investigation later found that senior Army officers gave misleading information about the circumstances surrounding Mr. Tillman's death, but that there was no criminal wrongdoing in the shooting and no high-level cover-up. A congressional investigation was inconclusive on whether senior White House and Defense officials were involved in releasing information about Mr. Tillman's death.

Q - Wall Street Journal (WSJ): Mr. Tillman never publicly discussed why he joined the Army. What were his reasons?

Krakauer: He had an old-fashioned sense of duty, masculine honor and masculine pride. He really believed after 9/11 that the United States needed to go to war against al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden. That he had a lucrative contract didn't mean he should be excused from that duty. He felt he could contribute significantly to the war effort and make a difference. He was also drawn by the challenge. Proving himself in combat under fire resonated with him. He came from a family with a history of military service. But it wasn't simply duty to his country. It was a mix of complicated emotions.

Q- WSJ: You note that the military has always had difficulty acknowledging casualties from friendly fire. How did this situation differ?

Krakauer: The Bush administration placed more emphasis on spinning the war, on managing perceptions of the war, than on waging it well. It seemed like the Bush administration launched a propaganda campaign almost unprecedented in modern times. That's different to me. Most friendly fire incidents aren't investigated properly because of neglect or a natural inclination to cover up the embarrassing fact that they killed one of their own. You don't normally see the feverish manipulation of information that you saw with Tillman. Instantly, everyone knew it was friendly fire. But within hours, by sworn testimony, a move was made to give him a Silver Star. That's not typical in a friendly fire situation. All the forensic evidence, including his uniform and journal, were burned. This was an extraordinary case of manipulation of public perception, which is what the Bush administration specialized in.

Q - WSJ: Are you certain that the events surrounding Mr. Tillman's final hours unfolded exactly as you've described them?

Krakauer: Yes, I'm quite confident. It took a lot of time and effort. I've been working on this book for three-and-a-half to four years, and it's been a long, difficult haul. It's the most challenging book I've written. I tried very hard to get this right. I sent chapters in full to every soldier that I interviewed and quoted so that they could see their quotes. A lot of these soldiers don't share my political views. It was a risk, but it created real benefits in terms of accuracy. I also read 3,000 or 4,000 pages of testimony.

Q - WSJ: If you were able to report this, why didn't government investigators dig more deeply?

Krakauer: They were able. They didn't want to. Their conclusions weren't based on a reading of the facts. They didn't want to find out the worst. It's the opposite of a criminal prosecution or a plane crash investigation. Military investigations are designed not to find anyone guilty. And you can't investigate up the chain of command, which is a huge impediment.

Q - WSJ: You report that Mr. Tillman could have likely left the Army after serving in Iraq after 18 months. Why did he stay?

Krakauer: He was very unhappy in the Army. He knew his wife was miserable. But his sense of honor didn't let him consider it. He made a three-year commitment and he wanted to live up to it. That was his point of view, and it was entirely in keeping with his character. It didn't surprise anyone who knew him well.

Q - WSJ: You end the book with a gloomy visit to Afghanistan in early 2007. What did Mr. Tillman's sacrifice mean?

Krakauer: It didn't mean anything. It speaks to the mythology of war and how we glorify it for our national interests. There is nothing glamorous or romantic about war. It's mostly about random pointless death and misery. And that's what his death tells us. It reminds me that the good aren't rewarded, there's no such thing as karma. Maybe it says something about the dangers of any sort of idealism that isn't tempered by pragmatism or experience.

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See "Taking Chance' on HBO, 21 Feb

MOVIE REVIEW
Taking Chance
By David J. Danelo
USNI's "Proceedings", Feb 2009

"Taking Chance" written by Ross Katz and Michael Strobl. Directed by Ross Katz. Starring Kevin Bacon and Blanche Baker. HBO Films. February 2009.

Hollywood illustrates some military stories distastefully, particularly when politics leaves veracity open to debate. HBO’s Taking Chance, a tale of devotion to fallen warriors, is not one of them.

This honorable, poignant, and dignified rendering of Marine Corps Lieutenant Colonel Michael Strobl’s escort of a Marine slain in Iraq pays tribute not only to those who have died in battle, but also to all who bear witness to their final journey home.

It’s usually the duty of the casualty assistance calls officer to come face-to-face
with a grieving parent and attempt simultaneously to explain death and honor life on
a grateful nation’s behalf. In 2004, Lieutenant Colonel Strobl (played by Kevin Bacon) paused from churning out personnel reports at Quantico and volunteered to shoulder a portion of that burden himself. As depicted by Mr. Bacon, Strobl is guilt-stricken that he is neither in the fight nor doing a greater part to support Marines in harm’s way.

Recalling the actor’s 1992 portrayal of Captain Jack Ross in A Few Good Men, viewers may struggle to imagine anyone other than Bacon in this role. The psychological
juxtaposition of (Captain) Bacon thundering away at a witness in a courtroom
16 years ago with (Lieutenant Colonel) Bacon wrapping up a less-than-eventful
twilight tour adds another layer of realism to his present character. No matter how many degrees of separation he may be from the real thing, Kevin Bacon is to Marine officers as Al Pacino is to Sicilian dons.

The journey itself is predictable: we immediately know what happened to then-Private First Class Chance Phelps (his promotion warrant to lance corporal arrived after his death), we know where he is going, and we know the reason. Less certain, however, is Strobl’s internal compass, which is what keeps the film interesting, even engrossing. “What about you? What’s your deal?” asks a curly-haired civilian teenager while transporting Strobl from Dover to Philadelphia International Airport. “My deal is . . . complicated,” the officer replies. The reverse winds up
to be just as true: the young driver had signed up for casualty duty after two of his high school pals were sent to Iraq, yet he struggles to relate to Strobl’s passion and enthusiasm for the martial calling.

Stroble's reactions to the civilian interactions - most are respectful, others awkward— sustain Taking Chance’s dramatic thread. Strobl smiles thinly and nods after being upgraded to first class by a tearyeyed flight attendant, then stares down a TSA employee who badgers him about his bag of metal objects (PFC Phelps’s personal effects) and his metal-spangled Service Green Alpha uniform jacket. At each stop along the way—Philadelphia, Minneapolis, Billings—pilots, luggage handlers, and travelers place caps and hands over hearts, pausing to pay homage. As the hearse from Rafferty’s Funeral Home snakes through the arid mountain passes of Montana into Wyoming, carsand trucks turn on headlights, eventually forming an impromptu funeral procession led by an 18-wheeler.

The film strikes two particular emotional chords. First, Marines love each other. The
brotherhood is sometimes distilled into more antiseptic phrases, such as “fierce
devotion to duty.” The film avoids hollow sentimentality and instead conveys the
depth of enduring affection and fraternity that goes with wearing the uniform. More significant, Americans love that Marines love each other. We “support the troops,”
in part, because all of us—military or civilian—long for human connections of
such profundity and self-sacrifice that they would transcend death. The pudgy businessman and spindly cowgirl whose hands cover their hearts affirm as citizens that the Marine who died risked his fate on their behalf. And, rightly, they love him for it.

These are not new notions, but HBO’s restrained, exemplary illustration of them
makes this a striking film. Taking Chance has already been nominated for the Grand
Jury Prize at the 2009 Sundance Film Festival; it should also be considered for other
awards. Even if it receives no formal recognition, the film deserves praise for depicting the squared-away nobility and solemn grandeur of America’s relationship with her Marines. Make no mistake: Lance Corporal Chance Phelps would be proud of this film.

Mr. Danelo served in Iraq as a Marine captain in 2004. A frequent contributor to Proceedings, he is the author of Blood Stripes: The Grunt’s View of the War in Iraq (Stackpole Books, 2006). Mr. Danelo was wounded near Fallujah three days before Lance Corporal Chance Phelps was killed.