The War I Always Wanted
The Illusion of Glory and the Reality of War
By Brandon Friedman
Zenith Press
St. Paul, MN, 2007
I was a raving storm trooper, but I was humiliatingly petrified of death. I wanted to fight, but I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I wanted to be a hero and I didn’t care if I was [a] hero. I felt alive inside, but disconnected from everyone. I loved my family and friends and I didn’t care if I ever saw them again.
I was suffering from emotional whiplash.
From the beginning, humans have struggled to make sense of the seeming randomness of individual life events by creating a structure upon which to hang them and assimilate them.. Often this takes the form of explanatory religious stories, family tales and national myths. When personal experience collides head-on with the master narrative of a culture, the result is disorienting and painful; aligning one’s own version of reality to the previously unquestioned storyline can make or break a personality. Something’s got to give – either personal reality gets whitewashed, or the underlying assumptive story arc is revised.
Nowhere is this dissonance more jarring than in the crucible of war, in which fantasies of personal heroism and clean, rational military plans confront the blood, smoke, fear and chaos of a real battlefield. The "emotional whiplash" Brandon Friedman so eloquently describes in The War I Always Wanted has been a mainstay of serious art for a long while now, addressed in Stephen Crane’s The Red Badge of Courage and Tim O’Brien’s haunting The Things They Carried as well as in films such as Apocalypse Now and Born on the Fourth of July.
What makes Friedman’s book worth a deep look is not just the subject matter, two tours in Afghanistan and Iraq. After all, Paul Rieckhoff in Chasing Ghosts had a story shaped by similar experiences of house raids, boredom, confusion and moments of pure terror. Rieckhoff’s story was told in a less chronologically challenging manner than Friedman’s, with a polish and distance. The rough edges in Chasing Ghosts are rubbed smoother and the backdrop of darkness is more artistically filled in.
The War I Always Wanted, on the other hand, is rough and jangled. Flashbacks abound, as Friedman, an infantry platoon leader in the famed 101st Airborne, patrols Baghdad on his second tour while experiencing terrifying intrusions from his first assignment to Operation Anaconda in Afghanistan. The narrative structure, in this case, is part of the message, underscoring and heightening the events recounted in the book itself. Personalities from the separate units come and go, incidents from the past breathe right down the neck of those set in the present. There is a raw and real jagged feel to Friedman’s telling of his story, approaching the boundaries of near real-time dispatches, both from the external Middle East front and the internal personal changes going on within him.