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mburnamfink 's review for:
Platoon Leader: A Memoir of Command in Combat
by James R. McDonough
Platoon Leader is one of the starker Vietnam War memoirs I've read, with a particular focus on the difficulties of small unit command. McDonough graduated from West Point in 1969 and after Airborne, Ranger, and Jungle Warfare schools, joined the 173d Airborne Infantry Brigade, where his assignment was to defend a strategic hamlet along the South China Sea about halfway between Saigon and Da Nang.
McDonough's first job was to win the respect of his men, which he decided to do by focusing on tactical proficiency and aggressiveness. The platoon, just above half of its nominal strength of 40 soldiers, would patrol aggressively. McDonough would be on at least every third patrol. 20 square kilometers is both not a terribly large area (rough estimate, a 2 mile walk in any direction from the platoon outpost), and also a tremendously large place to defend with a platoon. The men were the usual mix of jokers, slackers, newbies, and killers. In one rather tense initial moment, McDonough torched a private's marijuana stash, and the soldier "accidentally" fired his M79 at the McDonough's back. McDonough literally hoisted the man up with the muzzle of an M16 under his chin. McDonough's command, and learning how to use their strengths and mitigate their weaknesses, is the core of the book.
Combat is another major focus. Death is sudden, violent, utterly random. McDonough was wounded early in his tour by a landmine and avoided major injury only by a chance turn to the left at a critical moment. In defensive positions, the platoon could pour out incredible firepower and take little more than shrapnel scratches. But on patrol, a man could die in seconds; cut down by a burst of machine gun fire or a booby trap. Worse was that lingering of mortal wounds, body pulped and heart still beating. War is a bloody business, no management, just killing.
Loneliness in command is a third subject. McDonough had to maintain a distance from his men, to show as little weakness as possible. He had no peers. The Vietnamese Regional Forces commander in the village was useless. His company commander was passive, even cowardly, and the other platoons were separated by miles and barred areas of operation to prevent friendly fire. And yet that distance was vital to keep from becoming a monster, to restrain violence from civilians as much as was possible (not much at all).
The finale of the book is the grim realization of what "political warfare" means. The Viet Cong are deadly shadows who mostly use terror attacks against other Vietnamese. An elderly widow who traded C rations for her ad hoc orphanage is brutally murdered. One of the platoon's Kit Carson scouts, a VC defector, loses his family in an attack. The war cuts through families, with VC and ARVN in the same household. Any illusion that this might restrain the violence is lost in the finale, as the Viet Cong attack the town the platoon is protecting and the strategic hamlet is destroyed in the ensuing battle.
Americans aren't the only people who can destroy a village to save it.
McDonough's first job was to win the respect of his men, which he decided to do by focusing on tactical proficiency and aggressiveness. The platoon, just above half of its nominal strength of 40 soldiers, would patrol aggressively. McDonough would be on at least every third patrol. 20 square kilometers is both not a terribly large area (rough estimate, a 2 mile walk in any direction from the platoon outpost), and also a tremendously large place to defend with a platoon. The men were the usual mix of jokers, slackers, newbies, and killers. In one rather tense initial moment, McDonough torched a private's marijuana stash, and the soldier "accidentally" fired his M79 at the McDonough's back. McDonough literally hoisted the man up with the muzzle of an M16 under his chin. McDonough's command, and learning how to use their strengths and mitigate their weaknesses, is the core of the book.
Combat is another major focus. Death is sudden, violent, utterly random. McDonough was wounded early in his tour by a landmine and avoided major injury only by a chance turn to the left at a critical moment. In defensive positions, the platoon could pour out incredible firepower and take little more than shrapnel scratches. But on patrol, a man could die in seconds; cut down by a burst of machine gun fire or a booby trap. Worse was that lingering of mortal wounds, body pulped and heart still beating. War is a bloody business, no management, just killing.
Loneliness in command is a third subject. McDonough had to maintain a distance from his men, to show as little weakness as possible. He had no peers. The Vietnamese Regional Forces commander in the village was useless. His company commander was passive, even cowardly, and the other platoons were separated by miles and barred areas of operation to prevent friendly fire. And yet that distance was vital to keep from becoming a monster, to restrain violence from civilians as much as was possible (not much at all).
The finale of the book is the grim realization of what "political warfare" means. The Viet Cong are deadly shadows who mostly use terror attacks against other Vietnamese. An elderly widow who traded C rations for her ad hoc orphanage is brutally murdered. One of the platoon's Kit Carson scouts, a VC defector, loses his family in an attack. The war cuts through families, with VC and ARVN in the same household. Any illusion that this might restrain the violence is lost in the finale, as the Viet Cong attack the town the platoon is protecting and the strategic hamlet is destroyed in the ensuing battle.
Americans aren't the only people who can destroy a village to save it.