Since Iraq, the discussion of American war has once again become highly politicized. The conversations are rarely about war itself anymore; they are about the political forces and rhetoric surrounding it- people are looking to media pundits to explain it to them instead of to soldiers. It’s almost hard to remember the time when I studied war and warfare objectively; so all consuming is the political debate over what Iraq means to America and its politicians.

Frederick Downs’ The Killing Zone, My Life in the Vietnam War will strip the political lenses off your face and plunge you mercilessly into the Vietnam War experience, detaching you from the meaningless promises of presidential candidates and instead connecting you to the visceral experiences and true costs of war- that part of humanity where men wake up each day to kill each other.

Simply put, Downs’ honesty and economy of words are completely arresting. The book runs full-bore into the jungle and delivers an account of the war that is jolting, forthright, and painful. Consumed by uncertainty, the reader will undoubtedly find himself cringing with anticipation, waiting for the enemy to surprise the narrator in what must be a tiny facsimile of the writer’s own fear.

The Killing Zone is bursting with the sights, sounds, and smells of what I believe is the most important and relevant war to American troops today. Insurgency, political strife, civil war- it’s all here. But when you read this book, you won’t be thinking about how it relates to Iraq- in fact, you’ll forget what Iraq is or why you care about it. Instead, you’ll feel like a visitor traveling scared at the center of Downs’ platoon, looking for booby traps and listening for brush breaking underfoot. The only thing you will consider while reading this book is how anyone survived long enough to write it. You will read it quickly, rushing to make it through alive. This is war and this is the way it should be studied.

Special thanks to Brendan Curry at WW Norton for the review sample.

When I was a boot lieutenant, Fields of Fire by James Webb was considered one of the quintessential books for new officers to read but I had heard it was out of print and I didn’t look for it. I remember discussing it briefly with my friend Matt, a Marine tanker and insatiable reader. He had praised it but with a condition, if I recall correctly. In Marines’ terms, it wasn’t moto- slang for motivating or inspiring. It was real, he said, and dark.

James Webb, once a Marine officer (decorated Vietnam Vet), Secretary of the Navy, counsel to Congress, novelist, and screenwriter, is now best known as the freshman democratic senator from Virginia. I finally got around to reading the book last month and I wish I had read it back when I’d first heard about it.

Webb wrote Fields of Fire in 1978 and it’s as relevant as ever today. An historical fiction about a platoon of Marines in the An Hoa valley during 1969, the novel is well crafted, completely authentic, and built on page after page of lean narration and sumptuous dialogue. The book makes you believe the unbelievable- the mysterious, the magical- the incomprehensible events of war. In some ways it’s a reportage that integrates a fairy tale.

Indeed there are countless lessons for young officers (as I was promised) but there are broader insights about war and the warrior class in America that are still timely even after the implementation of the all-volunteer force- from commentary about who’s fighting our wars to why they fight them and how that experience separates them from regular Americans. The book masterfully balances a discussion of what draws young Americans to serve and fight, and how they reconcile war’s meaning.

If there were a college class on the Iraq war, Cobra II: The Inside Story of the Invasion and Occupation of Iraq would be the textbook. This is by far the most well written and even-handed account of the Iraq War. Written as historical text, the book highlights the undercurrents that led America to invasion, including faulty intelligence, strategic breakdowns, and ideological battles of will. The authors dedicate a substantial portion of the book to archiving the breakdowns in post-war planning within the Bush Administration, in particular, those stemming from an effort to avoid prolonged nation building: the Department of Defense accepted the responsibility for post-war Iraq instead of the Department of State.

Comprehensive and thorough in their research, the authors leave no stone unturned when crafting this record of the 2003 invasion. Most compelling in the book is the detail Gordon and Trainor provide in presenting the Iraqi planning and strategy. After interviewing senior Iraqi officers and others intimately familiar with Saddam Hussein’s planning process, the authors demonstrate that while the Iraqi defensive plan for holding off a large American force was fundamentally flawed, it nonetheless planted the seeds for the ongoing insurgency.

In the end, Gordon and Trainor keep their personal point of view close to the vest. They become critical of the invasion only at the end when they posit the five failures the United States experienced during the invasion: 1. The Misreading of the Foe, 2. The Over reliance on Technological Advancement, 3. The Failure to Adapt to Developments on the Battlefield, 4. The Dysfunction of American Military Structures, and 5. The Bush Administration's Disdain for Nation-Building.

Our country is becoming weary from the war in Iraq, and polls show that most citizens would choose to ignore rather then relive the same frustrations they have felt for the past five years. For veterans, I see this book as a way to reflect on the blur that this war has been. But more importantly, Cobra II has quickly become the standard historical account for the Iraq war, and with the authors’ reputations as renown professional reporter and warrior, respectively, coupled with their incredibly detailed research, the book’s status is deserved. If you often opine about the Iraq war and haven’t yet read this book, you are doing yourself and the people listening to you a disservice.

The one thing about the Iraq war that most Americans agree on is that our troops deserve unconditional support. But because of this, most contemporary commentary about these troops is blinded by our unconditional devotion. Most Americans think that watching the nightly news gives them a complete understanding of our troops and what they’re fighting for. But in reality, most Americans are confused by our 21st Century warriors- their complexity and independence defies stereotypes. Evan Wright’s Generation Kill: Devil Dogs, Iceman, Captain America, and the New Face of American War intelligently describes who is fighting this war, and why they are fighting it. This insightful book provides a unique look at the Iraq war- specifically in that it delivers the most poignant description yet offered of the young troops fighting in Iraq today.

Wright introduces the good, the bad, and the ugly of the officer, staff non-commissioned officer (SNCO), and enlisted ranks. He writes about the best troops, like Sgt. Colbert who leads his men in the deliberate and exacting manner of a brain surgeon, his every move calculated and driven towards completing the mission. He also gives us “Captain America” and “Encino Man”, who embody the absolute worst behavior present in a certain percentage of uniformed leaders. Through it all, Wright never fails to give the ground truth in the relationships and bonds between troops- for good or bad- spawned out of war.

This book is the best portrayal of the modern young American warrior that I’ve read so far. America’s new breed of troops is tech-savvy, unapologetically individual, intensely driven, fiercely intelligent, and heroically unselfish. Often times covered in tattoos or dressed in baggy clothes while out of uniform, many of these troops elicit leering looks of suspicion from the upper crust of our society who don’t recognize them from the cable news glory-hour.

You cannot bullshit these troops- with their incredible life experiences they’ll see right through you. Luckily for his readers, Wright sees right through them and gives us the best available account of this new breed of warrior. If you want to support the troops, this book will help you understand whom you’re supporting.

This autobiographical account chronicles the adventures of a group of cadets at the Virginia Military Institute (VMI) on a mission to play an elaborate prank on rival college The Citadel. The story is engrossing and fluidly written in honest, accessible, and thoughtful prose. The reader is slowly introduced to the history, culture, and language of VMI through the building Jeep story, during the telling of which, Judge reflects lucidly on his relationship with the institution and its impact on his life.

Most interesting to me is the deep look that Judge gives readers into the duality of emotion that service members often feel about their continuous sacrifice. Judge’s experiences at VMI and in the Marine Corps- two impressive, honor-laden legacies- made him stronger, filled him with pride and satisfaction, and helped him build bonds with friends in trials-by-fire that were deeper than any he'd ever had. And at the same time, these institutions are both monsters- bureaucratic, fickle, sometimes abusive, and always all-consuming- being a part of them can literally suck the life out of you. It’s hard to describe what this push-pull dichotomy feels like in real life, but Judge does it masterfully.

The other aspect of this book that I find fascinating is the way Judge pulls back the curtains on his own fears, insecurities, and desires to show the psychological forces at work that drive so many of us to become warriors. In thinking about my own metamorphosis, I identify with many of the emotions and thoughts he describes, and I can see the same insecurities and motivations reflecting in the faces of so many other warriors I’ve served with. This disclosure gives the book credibility, depth, and dimension.

This book is at once an engaging social history of the impressive and peculiar Virginia Military Institute, a gripping coming-of-age narrative, and most impressively, an incredibly insightful look at the psychology that drives young men to become warriors and that which pervades the duality of serving something so much greater than yourself.

Full Disclosure / Admin Notes: The author, J. Michael Judge, is a close friend of mine and a former peer from my first battalion. He has published this book out of his own pocket and all profits are being donated to the Ryan Doltz Scholarship Fund. Ryan, one of the cadets profiled in the book, was killed in Iraq in 2004. You can buy the book here. See also: Book Site.