Classic book review: A Bright Shining Lie
The lies one man told himself about the Vietnam War.
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At the end, however, he had invested so much of himself that he lost anything resembling objectivity and at last was consumed with the idea of victory.Skip to next paragraph
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As Sheehan puts it, Vann "lost his compass.'' At this point he was an accurate incarnation of the military effort in Vietnam, haunted by the specter of failure, ready to sacrifice anything, and inwardly questioning all of the previously unquestionable truths that the entire war was based on with the fear they might evaporate at this late date.
The degeneration of this man into a stubborn liar and a bloody-minded war lover had its roots in the degeneration of his character. He was capable of cruel deceits and betrayals of friends and family members. These were explained away in his own mind as justified by a far larger and more important end.
He was, as the song of the time said, "knee deep in the Big Muddy," and made the decision that he might as well push on as go back. He became reckless and began to believe in his own invincibility. But his career ended in a mere accident, a helicopter crash in foggy weather.
As a history, "A Bright Shining Lie'' is not as expository or as clear as Stanley Karnow's "Vietnam: A History,'' or James William Gibson's "The Perfect War'' (which is in my opinion the best text), but as reading material it is unparalleled. Sheehan is still a reporter, and his style is deceptively flat.
Yet his descriptions of the carnage and mayhem are more than sufficiently evocative, especially if you were there.
Vann's last days, in one swirling battle after another, are an uncontested "page-turner,'' as they say in the novel business. The details are sometimes astounding.
For example, after the crash in which he was killed, a patrol of South Vietnamese soldiers was sent out into the night to inspect. It was dangerous territory, but Vann was a man who had given most of his life to the defense of South Vietnam. They found his body and carried it back, but minus his watch, wallet, and class ring, which they took. So much for the glory of war.
The book will take its place as one of the milestones in the literature about the war. In spots, Sheehan is more complimentary about the character of the American military in Vietnam than he would be had he been a soldier.
He still has a fascination with military matters that outside observers have, a fascination curable only by a year in the ranks. He tries to be fair to the various players – he is writing about a man he considered a friend.
The friend is not here to defend himself, and Sheehan stops short of making stronger conclusions. This may be the effect of time, or it may be the experienced reporter's earnest efforts to seek objectivity in the face of passion, but readers will wonder and despair that all these events could have happened, and that the reputation and future of this country could fall into the hands of men like John Paul Vann.
I never knew Vann, but I knew people like him. They thought there were problems that could be solved by killing, and my memory of them has always seemed to be a warning.
In these times, a readable book about the Vietnam war, like any clear warning, is worth its weight in life.
Jeff Danziger is a former Monitor editorial cartoonist.