The Desert
"The sky was the same dry, cloudless, washed out shade of blue it had been ever since they'd arrived in this desolate part of the peninsula. By noon the temperature would climb well beyond one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. In this oppressive climate, the Marines typically spent their days under whatever shade they could find to escape the suffocating heat. The nights, when the air cooled down a modest twenty to thirty degrees, were reserved for digging the defensive lines ever deeper and for training missions. They'd been told not to expect any rain until late November, or maybe even December..."
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case 2:
content = "Suicide
"The sun rose a few more degrees above the horizon and the color of the sand outside gradually turned from gray to pale yellow. Stenner laid the rifle upside down on his lap. He stared at the empty magazine well. He’d been here before, but something insignificant had distracted him. Last week it was an unexpected breeze, the week before a chirping bird. The magazine clip sat beside him, three rounds already nestled inside, one atop the other. Stenner slid the magazine into the rectangular well and it clicked in place. He pulled back the charging handle. The oiled bolt slid back, it’s face anxiously waiting to grip the first round. He let go of the handle and the bolt shot forward with a loud, metallic clack. This was where he knew it would get awkward..."
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case 3:
content = "The Colonel
"Stone rose from his desk and came around to greet Grant with a firm handshake. His drawn face and sinewy neck resembled a long distance runner’s and his forearms were thick and firm. Affixed on the left breast of his crisply starched camouflage blouse were two metal insignia, a scuba diver’s badge and gold paratrooper wings. They’d been polished so many times that it was difficult to distinguish the engraved contours that were once etched on their faces. The colonel had obviously spent some time in a reconnaissance unit. A dark tan slightly concealed the creases that spread like webs from the corners of his eyes. His closely cropped mat of black hair was trimmed across a wizened brow and his nose looked as if it had been broken at least once..."
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case 4:
content = "The Veteran
"Rick Dooley had spent twenty-five years in the Corps and was in the twilight of his career. He was the senior representative of the men in the ranks and a trusted confidante to Stone. Dooley was forty-seven, but had the wizened face and chapped hands of a much older man. His upper body was still tight and strong and thick from years of humping a pack and lifting weights. Dooley, like Stone, had served with Marine infantry in South Vietnam during the war. He was a vestige of what some called “The Old Corps”, a time when discipline was frequently meted out with an NCO’s fist. He often spoke of character, rather than self esteem, and he had little patience for the kindler and gentler ways of today’s supposedly enlightened leadership."
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case 5:
content = "The Platoon
"There was plenty of attitude in this bunch. Some of it was merely false bravado, some of it quiet confidence, but much of it was rife with cockiness borne out of teenage fear and apprehension..."
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case 6:
content = "The Sergeants
"The four of them sat in the warm sand next to one another...Their faces were the color and texture of rough leather covered with a three-day growth of beard. Their tired, bloodshot eyes, the deep creases between their eyebrows, and the lines along their foreheads were testimony to the stress and weariness of many months spent away from the comforts of home and family. Having already seen some of the worst parts of the world, they were not nearly as impressed as their younger subordinates with the novelty of this latest deployment. And after a year of working alongside one another, there was a good natured, sarcastic casualness to their conversation and slackness in their posture..."
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case 7:
content = "Mutiny
"So maybe all the talk about fragging O’Leary was just baseless bluster, but what if it wasn’t? Grant didn’t want to take that chance. Their lives would soon be in this guy’s hands. It was nearing 2200. Perry, Moore, and Allen were dead asleep. He noticed Boyd standing outside the hooch, waiting for him. They walked over to Robert’s side of the hill. Hartford and Glenn were already there. The rain was falling harder and faster..."
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case 8:
content = "The Battle
"Snowstorm, Snowstorm", said an emphatic voice over the radio: incoming enemy artillery. Grant saw the ground a few yards ahead erupt in thin plumes of smoke and puffs of sand from Iraqi mortar and artillery rounds. He watched the explosions creep closer and closer until they were detonating in the soft sand along the company’s flanks. Inside 3-3, the men mistook the nearby concussions for engineers’ line charges. Larson asked Evans to find out when the lanes were going to be cleared. Evans tapped Grant’s boot. “Hey sir, when’re they gonna be finished with the line charges?” he yelled. Grant realized Evans had no idea what was happening less than a hundred yards from the vehicle. “Those aren’t line charges, it’s incoming…theirs, not ours!” he replied...Ferrill was beginning to feel confident they would clear the second belt without incident when a radio message shattered the relative calm. "FLASH, FLASH, FLASH! NBC ONE REPORT: FOX VEHICLE DETECTS POSSIBLE NERVE AND BLISTER AGENT VICINITY LANE RED ONE." Ferrill quickly got on the battalion frequency. “All units go to MOPP Four immediately.” Then he and everyone else in the track grabbed their gas masks and pulled them on."
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default:
content = "The Desert
"The sky was the same dry, cloudless, washed out shade of blue it had been ever since they'd arrived in this desolate part of the peninsula. By noon the temperature would climb well beyond one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. In this oppressive climate, the Marines typically spent their days under whatever shade they could find to escape the suffocating heat. The nights, when the air cooled down a modest twenty to thirty degrees, were reserved for digging the defensive lines ever deeper and for training missions. They'd been told not to expect any rain until late November, or maybe even December..."
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text0 ='Book Review by Bill Hudgines
Published in Semper Fi, The Magazine of the Marine Corps League (May/June 2007)
Breach
By Brooks Tucker, Authorhouse
Breach is about more than just the drive across the Kuwait-Saudi Arabia border in Operation Desert Storm. While it literally refers to “breaching” the border and the Iraqi minefields protecting it, the book contains numerous kinds of breaches – of trust, of unit cohesion, of discipline, of a possibly much larger failure to care for the veterans. Some of these have tragic consequences, while others show Marines overcoming and mending these breaks.
"; text3 ="Tucker’s novel, the first about combat Marines in the Persian Gulf War, deserves to be called “gritty” – the desert’s ever-present dust and sand are ever-present in the story. We feel it in the Marines sleeping bags and clothes, taste it in their food, see it on their sweaty, unshaven faces. As Marines have always done, they adapt and go on about their business.
"; text4 ="Tucker should know: now a Major in the Marine Reserves, he was an infantry-unit leader in the Persian Gulf War. To the TV-viewing public, Desert Storm served as a showcase for the increasingly sophisticated electronic systems and weapons available in the American arsenal. Tucker’s focus on the grunts’ experiences, however, makes it clear that for the warriors on the battlefield, their enemies include the four classical elements – Earth, Air, Fire and Water.
"; text5 ="Breach follows a Marine Company deployed to Saudi Arabia in 1990 as part of Operation Desert Shield and later, Desert Storm. The novel begins with a shocking twist that leads to a young Lieutenant, Grant Walker, being offered a second chance at commanding troops in the field. With diary-like detail, much of the rest of the book follows the unit as they train for desert warfare and combat boredom, fatigue and stress.
"; text6 ="Tucker takes us along as the Marines hump heavy packs on days-long maneuvers, dealing with scorching daytime temperatures and frosty nights and erratic rainstorms that soak gear and turn the powdery dust into greasy mud. We watch them deal with the boredom of repetitive training exercises, learning the skills they will need if Iraq refuses to leave Kuwait of its own accord.
"; text7 ="Like deployed Marines of the past, these young men go weeks without showers or food other than MREs. They put up their hooches and dig bunkers and sleeping holes, gripe and play practical jokes and spin rumors about the officers, the next move, the possibility of war.
"; text8 ="Aided by his highly competent sergeants, Walker works tirelessly to motivate his men and earn their trust. As a good officer, his heart is with his men, and he shares all their discomforts, tedium and anxieties.
"; text9 ="In its detailed descriptions of life in the field, training exercises and military thinking, Breach often reads like a how-to memoir for young officers. It is so detailed that a reader unfamiliar with military tactics may tend to just take the accuracy of the description for granted and move on. Tucker overcomes this by bringing the technical overview down to the ground infantry level as the action unfolds, especially in the dash across the border.
"; text10="Without giving away the ending, I wish Tucker had devoted a few chapters to following some of the main characters after Desert Storm. The final chapter gives a too-brief overview that contrasts sharply with his attention to detail in the preceding narrative.
"; text11="Written before the recent disclosures of inadequate medical treatment for veterans at Walter Reed Army Hospital and Veterans Administration facilities, Breach glancingly touches on the controversy about the health of Operation Desert Storm veterans. Something like a quarter of U.S. troops who took part in the operation have been listed as permanently disabled by the VA. A number of them developed illnesses or symptoms whose causes are not clear. For Tucker, and for his novel, this sad, slowly unfolding legacy of the Persian Gulf War seems to reveal yet another breach – in this case, a breach of faith that our government agencies will do what’s right to honor the service and sacrifice of his comrades.
"; text12="– Bill Hudgins
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