Tim Page is an Englishman who was addicted to the adrenalin rush that he fed by the action of the Vietnam War. He was a photographer, taking some of the greatest pictures of the war, and of the numerous books that he produced, one, Requiem, is a fitting memorial to the photographers who died in Vietnam. Due to his need to be "where the action was" he was wounded three times; the last time the doctor who first saw him wrote him off for dead. Dexter Filkins was also where the action was, at the very "front," in Afghanistan, the WTC on 9-11, and Iraq for almost four years, and took certainly more chances than Page--some, seemingly for no reason at all--like jogging in Baghdad during the period of kidnappings and suicide bombers. He managed to draw "three cards to an inside straight" on more than one occasion; he was never wounded. Filkins' book is an important one--he pushed the envelop to the breaking point on far too many occasions, and was thus able to see and report on matters that virtually no one else has. As a conscript I knew the adrenalin rush also, but never enjoyed it; and I had the time to ponder those who voluntarily sought it, like Page and Filkins, whose reportage was from a vastly different perspective. Filkins confirms that difference on page 227: "As an American--as someone who could leave Iraq anytime I wanted--I sometimes found myself taking cheap thrills from my brushes with death." A particular image seems to capture that difference: it is from the movie "Dr. Zhavigo." World War One has just been declared, and there is an image of young Russians throwing their straw hats into the air, happy to join the war, the great adventure. The wiser half-brother of Zhavigo stands to the side, perturbed by the joyous madness, and says: "Happy men don't enlist."
Filkins tells his involvement in America's most recent wars as a series of vignettes. I disagree with the reviewers that say he "just reports the facts," and does not philosophize and analyze. Starting around a third through the book, he does allow numerous personal comments and judgments. For example, from page 115, he discusses the two conversations that were occurring in Iraq, the one in which the Iraqis were telling the Americans what they wanted to hear, the other between the Iraqis themselves. On page 130 he does a twist to the same theme: "The Iraqis lied to the Americans, no question. But the worst lies were the ones the Americans told themselves." In terms of the effects of American military actions in searching Iraqi villages, Filkins makes the point (on page 153) that others have about the Vietnam War: "The Americans were making enemies faster than they could kill them." Another echo from the Vietnam War is the exaggeration of the body count (p 206): "Still, it was a curiosity that we had seen so few bodies. The generals were reporting hundreds of dead, thousands even... but we weren't seeing many." Adding to the "Iraq is Arabic for Vietnam" theme, on page 312-14 he relates how the Marines took the Saddam Hospital in Ramadi, bringing the Iraqis in only after it was secure, and seeing it "spun" in the Baghdad version of the 5 o'clock follies: "This Iraqi Army-lead operation will deny the insurgents use of the Saddam Hospital." Finally, in terms of judgments, it would be hard to beat: "It was in the Green Zone that I would think the war was lost." (p230) .I do agree with some other reviewers that the book is episodic, (typical, all too often, of accounts by journalists) and disjointed. At one point he goes back a year and a half. The chapter that he lists all the Iraqi opposition units seems to make as much sense as a catalog of American battalions in the war. But still, some chapters were enjoyable gems, such as the one entitled, suitably enough, "Proteus," on that slick character, Chalabi; another good chapter was "The Madhi," on Muqtada Sadr. And the ending, searching for Gertrude Bell's grave was all too fitting, and very well done.
I do not feel this book deserves a full 5-stars, like the book of another courageous journalist, Neil Sheehan. Several statements and claims I am uneasy with, some certainly seem apocryphal. Take the story of the "Saudi women" flying to Kandahar, on page 43. Filkins later in the book while in Iraq admits he understands very little Arabic. So, the only way he could have obtained this story is through his "Afghan interpreter," Farid. Clearly Arabic was not Farid's first language, maybe not even his fourth. How well did he understand Arabic? Was he just telling Filkins a nice tale that he might want to hear? How many Arab jihadis were married? How many took their wives to war with them? How many would say: "I could be shopping in Paris..." Ah! Like the Iraqis who told the Americans what they wanted to hear, Farid almost certainly spun a tale with "good journalistic copy." I was also uneasy with the amount of driving around Iraq Filkins did during the invasion, with no mention of an interpreter, or guides, and even: "I pulled up to the gates of the presidential palace in Tikrit just before the marines." (p104). I was equally uneasy with "The Labyrinth," the kidnapping of Jill Carroll. Filkens feels obligated to tell the American Embassy about his contact, and where she might be, but then won't reveal the requested phone number.
And then there were the "dogs that didn't bark;" what was missing. Four years in Iraq, during the period of the Abu Ghraib prison scandals, yet virtually no mention of same, and certainly no interviews with the perpetrators or the victims, which might have helped connect some dots with the insurgency. To what degree did Filkins feel constrained in what he reported? Americans don't like the word "censorship" in reference to their own media, but what degree of "guidance" did he receive from his editors? Did he ever file a "story that was too hot to handle"? Not mentioned. By in large, Filkins "supports the troops." They are usually portrayed as heroic, or at least "just doing their job," and no doubt, many are, but what of the others, the ones who have become thoroughly disillusioned with the mission? And to what degree is the military dependent on non-Americans to fill its ranks?
As was said about Alexander Werth's book on the Soviet effort during WW II, a better account will almost certainly not be produced, essentially because he was the man there at the time, with the contacts. The same will be said of Filkins' book, but for all our sakes, it could have been better if he had been a bit more skeptical, and addressed some of the "missing" issues.
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