Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Two Wars, Two Men

The Korean War and the Vietnam War are two of America’s darkest hours. Both wars, while not total defeats, were also far from total victory. David Halberstam’s The Coldest Winter and Neil Sheehan’s A Bright Shining Lie take a look at Korea and Vietnam respectively to show just what went wrong for the world’s superpower. In many cases, the mistakes of Korea were reflected in the mistakes of Vietnam. Most interestingly, both authors chose to look at the war through the perspective of the man they found most influential to the course of the war - in Halberstam’s case, General Douglas MacArthur, and for Sheehan, John Paul Vann.
Both Halberstam and Sheehan worked in Vietnam during the early days of the war as correspondents. They witnessed first-hand the incompetencies and trials of a war abroad, and surely this experience led them both to write about America’s Asian land wars. Both men are not afraid to portray the ugliest sides of the conflict, never hesitating to criticize the men they feel are responsible for the chaos. They are fascinating accounts that will satisfy the needs of any reader with an interest in military history.
David Halberstam’s The Coldest Winter covers the major battles of the Korean War, but the work focuses mostly on the politics behind the battle. Countless chapters are devoted to the infighting among Communist leaders in China, North Korea, and the Soviet Union, as well as the factionalism back in the United States, where the China Lobby and general fear of Communism played a huge role in the way President Harry Truman was forced to operate. Other books on Korea may choose to focus on the battles and military mistakes themselves, but Halberstam shows the true reasoning behind the war. The Washington Post’s Stanley Weintraub, an expert on George Bernard Shaw, notes that this lack of linear structure best serves a story so heavily influenced by politician’s back home.
At the heart of this story, however, is General Douglas MacArthur, a man deeply loved by the American people for his success in World War II. A cult of personality developed around MacArthur, making him almost untouchable to even the President of the United States. MacArthur was given complete control of the war, even when his own ideas greatly conflicted with the reality on the ground. In a display of his own hubris, MacArthur claimed that the Chinese would be so impressed by an amphibious landing at Inchon that they would back down and refuse to intervene, leaving the North Koreans to be crushed. The initial success of the landing against all odds again contributed to the mystique of MacArthur. When intelligence reports indicated that thousands of Chinese were moving in the north, MacArthur simply manipulated the details to make it go away. As a result, the American troops were divided, understaffed, improperly clothed, and completely unprepared when the Chinese finally struck. They were forced to hastily retreat back south, leading to the death of thousands. Halberstam’s position on MacArthur is clear as he coldly notes that MacArthur never spent “a night in the field in Korea”. It isn’t until Truman finally fires MacArthur that the war can finally get back on track to a simple stalemate. Halberstam ends his story over a year before the war is formally drawn to a close, reflecting the true impact of MacArthur on the war.
It seems that America did not learn from her mistakes. Those same causes for failure - ignoring the men of the ground with the best look at the war combined with the sense of superiority over an Asian race - would be seen yet again in the Vietnam War, according to Neil Sheehan. Sheehan tells the story of John Paul Vann, an adviser to the Saigon regime, whose rare, insightful understanding of the war in Vietnam seemed almost ahead of his time. From the earliest days of the war, Vann was skeptical of the Saigon regime and the American military command’s overwhelming confidence. For him, the problems existed within the Saigon regime, not the war itself. When he couldn’t bring about the change he wanted through ordinary means, he went through the Saigon Press Corps, which included Neil Sheehan and David Halberstam, in order to show the incompetencies to the American public. While his superiors saw him as a nuisance, Vann quickly gained the respect of the men he was commanding because of his energy, dedication, and bravery. His ability to act under pressure and create real action made him a hero until his tour of duty ended in April of 1963.
Sheehan is not simply in awe of the man who shaped his early reporting career. As noted by Ronald Steel of The New York Times, part of what makes Sheehan’s writing so engaging is his ability to portray Vann as a complex, human character. The man who rose up against all odds in a poor and dysfunctional Norfolk family still possessed many flaws. He cheated on his wife frequently, once with an underage girl. While the military cleared him of all charges, Sheehan speculates that this event may have kept Vann from moving up the military chain any higher. Vann also kept two Vietnamese mistresses, one of whom he got pregnant. Sheehan does not seem to draw his own conclusions about a man he obviously admired, but whose flaws cannot be ignored. This character portrayal is perhaps the greatest difference between Sheehan and Halberstam’s books. While Halberstam’s MacArthur is almost a villain, Sheehan’s Vann is simply a regular man, with both good and bad characteristics.
Perhaps it is because of these issues back home that Vann was so drawn to return to Vietnam, this time as civilian officer with AID.  Here, he finds true way to win the war - winning over the peasants. The peasants were regarded as expendable by both the Americans and the Saigon regime, who did not hesitate to destroy their homes or kill them. As a result, the peasant population was far more inclined to side with the Viet Cong. Vann proposed that in order to win the war, the peasants should be provided with food, resources, and educations to show them that Saigon and the Americans were truly on their side. As a Deputy for CORDS, Vann attempted these reforms on a small scale. However, the vast corruption within the Saigon government made this nearly impossible.
Vann died in a freak helicopter accident before the war’s end. His funeral, held at Arlington National Cemetery in 1972, brought together ideological enemies to mourn a man so widely admired. Sheehan attended as well, and the service inspired him to spend 16 years compiling A Bright Shining Lie. The research is evident in Sheehan’s amazing portrayals of war, men, and government in vivid detail.
Both books are clear portrayals of the wars they describe. Their authors, influenced by seeing war up close and personal, aimed to tell the true story behind these conflicts. Rather than focusing on the linear structures and moving battle to battle, they discussed the real stories of the men and politics who shaped the war. The results are two fascinating, detailed, and emotional histories of the American military abroad. While America cannot change its past, we can learn from these mistakes. The Coldest Winter and A Bright and Shining Lie are both portray two unique men in two unique wars, yet the stories ring eerily similar.