david_agranoff's review against another edition
4.0
Matheson is well know for his twilight zones, and other genre pieces. this semi-autobiograhical novel inspired by Matheson's duty in WW II is powerful stuff. His skills with suspense are well used but ultimately this novel men who could barely be considered adults have to deal with war.
jeremyhornik's review against another edition
4.0
I like Matheson.
This is a terribly violent story of a callow, alienated 18-year-old who drops in as a replacement in December 1944. It's gory and violent, sure, but it's really about the damage that just being in the war does. What they used to call a "psychological" novel, I think. Apparently, it's autobiographical. I think it would have to be... I think it would be hard to write that way about a soldier in combat and the shock and trauma of it without having been fairly close to it yourself. Someone said, "It's impossible to make an unromantic war movie." This one is about as unromantic as I can imagine.
This is the first time in fiction I've read about soldiers who don't shoot their weapons. Apparently it's pretty common in war for some soldiers never to shoot at all. I'd read about it in S.L.A. Marshall's book, but I hadn't seen anything about it in fiction. That's what I mean... I think you had to have been in it to write this unromantic a book.
This is a terribly violent story of a callow, alienated 18-year-old who drops in as a replacement in December 1944. It's gory and violent, sure, but it's really about the damage that just being in the war does. What they used to call a "psychological" novel, I think. Apparently, it's autobiographical. I think it would have to be... I think it would be hard to write that way about a soldier in combat and the shock and trauma of it without having been fairly close to it yourself. Someone said, "It's impossible to make an unromantic war movie." This one is about as unromantic as I can imagine.
This is the first time in fiction I've read about soldiers who don't shoot their weapons. Apparently it's pretty common in war for some soldiers never to shoot at all. I'd read about it in S.L.A. Marshall's book, but I hadn't seen anything about it in fiction. That's what I mean... I think you had to have been in it to write this unromantic a book.
hi_im_marci's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
emotional
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
ericwelch's review
4.0
This book, follows a small platoon during two weeks in December, 1944, through the eyes of Ernest Hackermeyer, an 18-year-old replacement, just over the French border in Germany. “Hack” soon shows an aptitude, or at least a recklessness, with regard to fighting, and Cooley, the platoon sergeant, a much older man takes Hack under his wing, soon promoting him to assistant squad leader after the death of his other corporal. It’s not fun: cold, wet, moving back and forth, seeing little of the big picture, seemingly fighting for the same area over and over, having nothing to do but clean weapons.
"Wish I was a crab sometimes," he said. "Nice and warm down here. Lots of places for houses too." Finally he sighed. "Aw, you can't catch them," he said. He grimaced and drew in a quick breath. "Look like real crabs though," he said."
"What exciting comestible do you prepare, Hackermeyer?" "Huh?" "What's cooking?" "Pork and egg yolk." Guthrie blew out smoke. "Baby poo," he said. Hackermeyer didn't know what he meant until he opened the can.”
The intermittent shelling and its effect on the troops is vividly portrayed.
"More shells exploded. Hackermeyer felt as if the deafening bursts would crush his skull in. Suddenly, he realized that the cotton had fallen from his right ear. He looked around for it, then gave up and jammed the end of a gloved finger into his ear instead. Overhead, the mortar shells screamed shrilly as they fluttered downward. Infrequently, one of them passed through the latticework of boughs and exploded on the ground. . . "Now he noticed the colorless slime that was dripping from the lacerated tree trunks. As if many men had blown their noses on them. Hackermeyer's gaze moved dumbly from tree to tree. He couldn't stop because he knew that he was looking at all that remained of Linstrom. His stomach started heaving as nausea bubbled in him. Abruptly he remembered what he'd said when Linstrom had asked how close the shells could come.”
Cooley, Hack’s sergeant, is much older -- and wiser -- than the recruits, fresh as replacements, and he has a son in Guadalcanal so he despairs every time another 18-year-old replacement joins the platoon. He sees Hack has a son-figure, but worries that Hack, after only a week at the front, has become manic for killing Germans. Hack, who had lost his father at a young age, wants nothing better than to please Cooley, a sees him as a father figure, but then when Cooley orders him to do something, takes it as a criticism and he despairs of being unable to please the sergeant.
"Nope." Cooley shook his head once more. "I'll tell you what you got to relate, and it ain't weapons to the ground. It's one guy to another guy. You got to teach a man what he can expect from his buddies in combat. If he knows that, it don't matter if the ground ain't worth anything or if his weapon don't even work. He'll still know what the score is." Cooley picked up his new hand. "How do you teach soldiers human nature? . . . He paused. "Look, Hack," he said. "I know I told you it's your job to kill Krauts. It is-and you're doing a hell of a job. But ... well, you got to watch out you don't get so-fired up about it you can't stop. It's a job, Hack, not a way of life, if you know what I mean." Cooley spat to one side. "Let's face it, son," he said. "When we kill, we ain't men, we're animals.”
Matheson, before he began writing science fiction, served as a replacement infantryman and fifteen years after the war wrote this to document his experiences. This was his first novel and some of the characters seem stereotypical, but they work as seen through the eyes of Hack. Cooley is perhaps a bit almost too good to be true, the omnipotent and omnipresent sergeant, but his character fits also. The true horror is that we older folks send off children to fight our battles. Probably one of the most authentic appearing books to come out of WW II. I Would rank it up with the [b:The Naked and the Dead|12467|The Naked and the Dead|Norman Mailer|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1276221820s/12467.jpg|2223651].
"Wish I was a crab sometimes," he said. "Nice and warm down here. Lots of places for houses too." Finally he sighed. "Aw, you can't catch them," he said. He grimaced and drew in a quick breath. "Look like real crabs though," he said."
"What exciting comestible do you prepare, Hackermeyer?" "Huh?" "What's cooking?" "Pork and egg yolk." Guthrie blew out smoke. "Baby poo," he said. Hackermeyer didn't know what he meant until he opened the can.”
The intermittent shelling and its effect on the troops is vividly portrayed.
"More shells exploded. Hackermeyer felt as if the deafening bursts would crush his skull in. Suddenly, he realized that the cotton had fallen from his right ear. He looked around for it, then gave up and jammed the end of a gloved finger into his ear instead. Overhead, the mortar shells screamed shrilly as they fluttered downward. Infrequently, one of them passed through the latticework of boughs and exploded on the ground. . . "Now he noticed the colorless slime that was dripping from the lacerated tree trunks. As if many men had blown their noses on them. Hackermeyer's gaze moved dumbly from tree to tree. He couldn't stop because he knew that he was looking at all that remained of Linstrom. His stomach started heaving as nausea bubbled in him. Abruptly he remembered what he'd said when Linstrom had asked how close the shells could come.”
Cooley, Hack’s sergeant, is much older -- and wiser -- than the recruits, fresh as replacements, and he has a son in Guadalcanal so he despairs every time another 18-year-old replacement joins the platoon. He sees Hack has a son-figure, but worries that Hack, after only a week at the front, has become manic for killing Germans. Hack, who had lost his father at a young age, wants nothing better than to please Cooley, a sees him as a father figure, but then when Cooley orders him to do something, takes it as a criticism and he despairs of being unable to please the sergeant.
"Nope." Cooley shook his head once more. "I'll tell you what you got to relate, and it ain't weapons to the ground. It's one guy to another guy. You got to teach a man what he can expect from his buddies in combat. If he knows that, it don't matter if the ground ain't worth anything or if his weapon don't even work. He'll still know what the score is." Cooley picked up his new hand. "How do you teach soldiers human nature? . . . He paused. "Look, Hack," he said. "I know I told you it's your job to kill Krauts. It is-and you're doing a hell of a job. But ... well, you got to watch out you don't get so-fired up about it you can't stop. It's a job, Hack, not a way of life, if you know what I mean." Cooley spat to one side. "Let's face it, son," he said. "When we kill, we ain't men, we're animals.”
Matheson, before he began writing science fiction, served as a replacement infantryman and fifteen years after the war wrote this to document his experiences. This was his first novel and some of the characters seem stereotypical, but they work as seen through the eyes of Hack. Cooley is perhaps a bit almost too good to be true, the omnipotent and omnipresent sergeant, but his character fits also. The true horror is that we older folks send off children to fight our battles. Probably one of the most authentic appearing books to come out of WW II. I Would rank it up with the [b:The Naked and the Dead|12467|The Naked and the Dead|Norman Mailer|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1276221820s/12467.jpg|2223651].
rosseroo's review
4.0
Before Matheson became a prolific writer of science fiction stories, novels, Twilight Zone episodes, and films, he served as a replacement infantryman in World War II. Some fifteen years later, he set down his experiences as a novel about a teenager sent to the front lines for the Allied advance into Germany. The story covers the first two weeks of Private Everett Hackermeyer's war, as he joins an understrength squad under the leadership of a grizzled Sergeant who acts as a father figure. But having been abandoned by his drunk father to be raised by his nasty uncle, Hackermeyer has no conception of what a father figure is, or really of what it means when people are nice to him. The result is that when thrown into the tight camaraderie of small unit combat, Hackermeyer is often confused, and retreats into his head to analyze the meaning behind every gesture and phrase directed at him.
He survives his initial baptism by fire, and accidentally discovers that he has an actual talent for killing the enemy. The question becomes, will he be able to operate as a good soldier, or will his inner demons lead him into increasingly risky and bloodthirsty acts? He's a bit of a stock character, the poor kid raised by wolves and never given a chance, who blossoms under a firm and wise guiding hand. But his mental issues keep him from becoming the kind of everyman hero common to World War II stories. His fellow privates are also somewhat stock figures: the sardonic joker/college boy from California, the bumbling idiot, the religious nut, and so on. The Sergeant is an incredibly cliche figure, who even offers Hackermeyer a job on his ranch, should they ever make it back home. These character deficiencies aside, the book is notable for its ability to put the reader in the middle of the terror and tedium that was World War II. The descriptions of shelling are truly horrific, and the chaos of small scale combat really comes to life. Matheson clearly pulls no punches in his description of what it meant to be on the front line, and the fear that inspired.
I read this at the same time as watching the "Band of Brothers" miniseries, and found it very complementary. Both do an excellent job at showing the mix of boredom and horror that infantrymen faced, however this book emphasizes how utterly alone each man is on the battlefield, while the miniseries (per its title), emphasizes the camaraderie. Ultimately the book is somewhat cliche across the board, but still well worth reading if you're interested in World War II.
He survives his initial baptism by fire, and accidentally discovers that he has an actual talent for killing the enemy. The question becomes, will he be able to operate as a good soldier, or will his inner demons lead him into increasingly risky and bloodthirsty acts? He's a bit of a stock character, the poor kid raised by wolves and never given a chance, who blossoms under a firm and wise guiding hand. But his mental issues keep him from becoming the kind of everyman hero common to World War II stories. His fellow privates are also somewhat stock figures: the sardonic joker/college boy from California, the bumbling idiot, the religious nut, and so on. The Sergeant is an incredibly cliche figure, who even offers Hackermeyer a job on his ranch, should they ever make it back home. These character deficiencies aside, the book is notable for its ability to put the reader in the middle of the terror and tedium that was World War II. The descriptions of shelling are truly horrific, and the chaos of small scale combat really comes to life. Matheson clearly pulls no punches in his description of what it meant to be on the front line, and the fear that inspired.
I read this at the same time as watching the "Band of Brothers" miniseries, and found it very complementary. Both do an excellent job at showing the mix of boredom and horror that infantrymen faced, however this book emphasizes how utterly alone each man is on the battlefield, while the miniseries (per its title), emphasizes the camaraderie. Ultimately the book is somewhat cliche across the board, but still well worth reading if you're interested in World War II.
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