The War: An Intimate History, 1941-1945, by Geoffrey C. Ward, with an Introduction by Ken Burns.  Knopf, $50 (451p) ISBN 978-0-307-26283-7

This evocative coffee-table book is the companion volume to acclaimed documentary filmmaker Ken Burns' upcoming PBS series of the same title.  (The 7-part, 15-hour series premiers on September 23.)  

Burns chooses a bottoms-up approach in telling the story of World War II—the "greatest cataclysm in history" and a worldwide conflict that claimed an estimated 50-60 million lives.  Instead of focusing on the "great men" like FDR, Churchill, Stalin, and Eisenhower, Burns views the war from the combined perspective of some fifty ordinary Americans from four geographically-diverse communities: Luverne, Minn., Sacramento, Calif., Waterbury, Conn., and Mobile, Ala. 

It was almost inevitable — especially given Burns' politically-correct agenda — that this "democratic" format would overlook some important subset of the population.  Inevitably, and controversially, he overlooked the nation's largest minority: Latinos.   And, they have been vocal, and rightfully so, in their protest. 

Burns' decision to make the production more personal and less universal makes for better storytelling than history.  The approach allows readers — and viewers of the series — to follow ordinary Americans throughout the war and get to know them intimately: an experience that will heighten interest by personalizing the experience. 

Among the two-score citizens portrayed are Marines Sid Phillips and Eugene Sledge in the Pacific; G.I. Babe Ciarlo and fighter pilot Quentin Aanenson in Europe, and Emma Belle Petcher holding down the home front back home in Alabama.

Phillips and Sledge, best friends in high school in Mobile, are later re-united as Marines in the Pacific.  Between them, they survive some of the fiercest fighting in the theater: Guadalcanal, Tarawa, and Okinawa.  Sledge comes home to eventually write perhaps the most powerful memoir of the war: With the Old Breed.

Ciarlo, the son of Italian immigrants from Waterbury, fought — and ultimately died — with the Third Infantry Division in Italy.  At one point, he was only twenty-five miles from his father's birthplace. 

Aanenson, a farm boy from Laverne, became a fighter pilot with the Ninth Army Air Force.  He saw his best friends perish in combat, crash-landed his own crippled aircraft, and somehow survived the war. 

Petcher, a seventeen-year-old from rural Alabama, joined the exodus to Mobile to find work in the defense factories that sprung up there. 

Their stories — and the two-score others — along with hundreds of photographs give The War an intimate feel that should connect with readers of the book and viewers of the series.  

Quotable

"Combat leaves an indelible mark on those who are forced to endure it... Until the millennium arrives and countries cease to enslave others it will be necessary to accept one's responsibilities to, and to be willing to make sacrifices for, one's country, as my comrades did." — Eugene B. Sledge

Paperback Tip:  On September 15, the Naval Institute Press released a new paperback edition of Stuart I. Rochester and Frederick Kiley's landmark study Honor Bound: American Prisoners of War in Southeast Asia, 1961-1973 ($34.95, 706p, ISBN 978-1-59114-738-1). 

Drawing on official records, media accounts, and extensive interviews with former prisoners, the authors fashion an authoritative and comprehensive study of the treatment of American POWs in Southeast Asia (Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia) from 1961-1973.  But, don't be misled by the authors' scholarly credentials and workmanlike approach to the subject.   Theirs is first and foremost a searing and unforgettable portrait of unimaginable suffering and inhuman heroism. 

In all, there were 771 U.S. servicemen captured and deterred during the Vietnam era.  Of those 113 died in captivity, and 658 were eventually repatriated.  The authors are quick to note that there was "no single, monolithic PW experience."  Some experienced harsher conditions and treatment than others, and a few regrettably chose to collaborate with the enemy. 

The overwhelming majority, however, acquitted themselves with honor and many exhibited a heroism that defies reason, if not description.  A few of them — James Stockdale and Jeremiah Denton, for example — are still remembered by some, but others — like Marine Capt. Donald Cook and Air Force Lt. Lance Sijan — are virtually anonymous outside the military subculture.  That is a shame and a tragedy.  Theirs are the kinds of stories that a grateful and proud nation should enshrine in its collective memory.

Cook's and Sijan's resistance is legendary.  Despite serious injury and cruel torture, they refused to yield so much as an inch.  Both ultimately died in captivity and both earned the nation's highest honor for heroism: the Medal of Honor.   

In an era when the word "hero" is carelessly tossed about, Honor Bound shows the true face of heroism. 

In a political climate where honorable men are vilified (General Betray-Us) for partisan gain, Honor Bound should be required reading.