I
find myself caught at an odd crossroads; I certainly don't know many others
of my bleeding heart liberal ilk that secretly devour books on military
sniping when no one else is looking. Consequently, I don't have the
chance to compare notes with anyone else to see how they interpret the
odd, mawkish but heady soup of fictionalized military non-fiction.
Marine Sniper covers the life and career of Gunnery Sargeant Carlos Hathcock who not only racked up a stunning 93 kills in Vietnam but also had a confirmed kill at well over a mile away (2500 yards) and was also one of the initial instructors at the USMC Sniper-Scout school; all of which combines to give him a rep somewhere just south of being the Patron Saint of Snipers.
Unsurprisingly, Henderson gives Hathcock a treatment that runs the gamut from respectful to reverent, which I didn't mind half as much as Henderson's rampant fictionalizing technique--unlikely exposition is freely put in the mouths of conversing characters, flashbacks to Hathcock's pre-Vietnam past are presented as an actual chain of memories Hathcock has during the course of a day in the field--all of which is done just to make things as dramatic and readable as possible. Which, as any author would tell you, is generally the idea. But Henderson is a clumsy and simplistic stylist who generally takes the most obvious approach to each challenge of Hathcock's story, of which there are several. Hathcock gave his all to the Marine Corps, only to be medically discharged two months short of what would have been his chance to retire at twenty years with honors and a much larger pension. Henderson covers the territory quickly, with only the slightest paragraph or two covering Hathcock's bitterness, and with every Marine officer getting a full chance to justify this unbelievably callous act. Short shift is also given to Hathcock's wife, who not only had to deal with an absent military husband, but finding out from a newspaper story that her husband was a sniper in Vietnam with an enormous price on his head, but also was mistakenly given news of Hathcock's death. And how about the tragedy, almost a capital 'T' tragedy, that a man of supreme willpower, able to force his body to lie still in an uncomfortable position in brutal heat for hours on end while being devoured by jungle insects, develops MS and finds himself unable to control his body or its reaction to heat and cold? How lousy and sucky is that? We can only guess because Henderson skims right over it.
In short, Henderson's respectful storytelling carves away anything that fiction can be used to examine--the actual cost we pay for the lives we live--but keeps the tricks of fiction for nice easy reading (and writing). Which I find kinda wrong, and also gives the book the sort of uneven mix of gentlemanly discretion and overly familiar presumption that I'm used to finding, actually, in those porn digests sold in shrinkwrapped packs at skeezy liquor stores.
Which brings me back to my dilemna--nobody sits around and over-analyzes liquor store porn, and everyone would make fun of the person who did. The only thing people want to know about porn (if they want to know anything at all) is if it was "hot." So, after all this bashing of Henderson's writing, I have to admit that, qualms aside, I really enjoyed reading Marine Sniper. In fact, I forced myself to put it down after finishing each chapter just so I could make it last longer. Henderson does action very well, and educates us as to how a sniper thinks and fights, so that several of Hathcock's assignments are genuinely riveting. Henderson spends a lot of time setting up a fascinating situation--Hathcock's duel of wits with "The Apache," a female Vietnamese sniper who captures and tortures American soldiers--that, real life being what it is, doesn't pay off half as well as the set-up. But the sniper/counter-sniper duel that Hathcock and his spotter have later with a bounty hunting sniper is an extraordinary battle that Henderson recounts superbly. There are also some assassination missions that, although again suffering from Henderson's refusal to think about what they mean, are suspenseful and were great vicarious thrills up until I remembered they actually happened. Then I just felt guilty and icky.
Overall, Marine Sniper is pretty good for what it is. It's only when you measure it by what it's not (and the way it clunkily points to what it could be) that it disappoints. I tentatively, guiltily recommend it.
All written material on these pages is © 2001 by Jeff Lester. With the exception of non-profit distribution, all other rights are reserved.