HBO’s The Pacific, Episode 7

Oh, thank god there are only three episodes left. And with it being final week of classes this semester – combined with allergies/sinus infection – I’m behind posting schedule again (at least you get this before Episode 8, right?).

I realized most of the way through Episode 7 – around the time that Snafu was skipping rocks into the dead enemy’s open skull – that this episode, at least, is all about questioning the mythology of The Good War.

….now, on further reflection, I would say that they’ve been trying to do that all along, and that perhaps this is the problem. How do you tell a story that respects veteran’s sacrifices for their country, honors the memory of those that fought and died, portray the enemy as a legitimate threat (and someone to rally against – let’s face it: your audience has to feel what’s at stake in battle, yes?), and yet still portray the reality of the atrocities that all parties involved participated in over the course of the war.

In my experience – particularly with the world history course I helped teach last fall (“The World in World War II”) – debunking the myth of WW2 as “the good war” isn’t necessarily new. We do this every time we Americans sit down and reflect on things like the internment of Japanese-Americans, for example.

But perhaps we don’t do enough of this. And perhaps, as important a message as that is to convey – perhaps debunking the myth of the good war has become the undoing of The Pacific. (That, likely combined with the disparate figures who tend to remain very disconnected from one another, meaning we have little to no continuity across personal perspectives each week. For example, we spent several weeks with Leckie, and now he’s virtually gone – just as I really started to like him.)

This seems, more than anything else, to be both cause and problem. It’s immensely difficult to rewrite such a major mythos of American history. It’s immensely important on the same token, however. But do it wrong, and you alienate the people you tried to honor. Do it right, and you may sacrifice your ability to tell a really strong, important, and useful story.

Hanks and Spielberg may have succeeded in casting doubt on the “good war” story, but at what cost?

Why I Don’t Fear The Job Search

I’ve spent a long time actually being worried and stressed about the job search. For many years, I didn’t worry, but in the past two years, as I began to progress through dissertation writing, I became increasingly worried about the job search, the state of the job market, and all those things that come with it.

I am officially going on the market this fall, and a few months ago, that idea was a frightening prospect. How could it not be, when every January we’re deluged with the latest horror stories of how there are no jobs and interviews are scarce and we’re all essentially screwed because the job market’s a crapshoot, and OMG, WHAT DO WE DO NOW???

And I think Tenured Radical said it best in January 2009 when she told stressed-out applicants to stop going to all the gloom-and-doom AHA sessions about job searching and “go home and write instead.”

I’ve tried to take the various advice pieces to heart. And to be honest, I’ve known about the difficulties of the field since I started. My philosophy has always been to prepare myself to the best of my ability…and then we’ll see what happens. I’m confident in the steps I’ve taken to get where I am today.

Next, of course, is the hard part: the letter-writing, the application preps, the waiting, the dissertation finishing, and all that jazz. Since my first year of grad school, I’ve had a deal with myself to submit at least one abstract to a conference each year. My theory was that this would force me to work on communicating my ideas to “the public” (whatever I envisioned that to be – namely, someone other than me). Opening yourself for public criticism, even if that’s just an anonymous conference committee somewhere, is a big step – or at least it was for me, and I assume it is for many people.

I like to think that this process – which has led to a conference presentation each year of my graduate school career, at major organization conferences and small grad student conferences – will help me in JOB QUEST 2010/11.

Hey, I kinda like that name!

Today we have a job search workshop in our department. This means I answered four questions of the types of things you’d put in a cover letter, submitted my CV, and turned in a syllabus I wrote. This afternoon, three faculty members will rip apart these materials so that I can become better at communicating this essential information. And you know what?

I’m excited about that!

I realized last week that I’m not scared. I’m not stressed, I’m not worried. I’m excited to hear what they have to say. And this has led me to the point where I realize that I’m not letting myself fear the job search. Why should I? Whatever will happen will happen.

I say this not in a cocky manner, but rather a matter-of-fact: stress will only make the process worse. Stress will not help me write a better cover letter or a better abstract, and it won’t help me deliver a polished dissertation. Taking my time and working carefully – those are the steps that will be most useful to me.

So everything starts today. I’m also meeting with my advisors and other faculty, setting appointments with the career counselor and The Teaching Center, and seeking out help wherever I can get it.

JOB QUEST 2010/11? Bring it on! I’m ready and excited for this newest challenge.

HBO’s The Pacific, Episode 6

It’s not a good sign about a miniseries when your viewers are tired of the whole thing just over halfway through. Watching The Pacific these days mostly feels like a weekly chore.

This week’s episode was all about watching Sledge handle his first time in battle. Now, we’ve already seen this – remember Episode 1? Let’s not pretend that those guys were battle-hardened. No, this episode served primarily to remind us – halfway through the series – that even though some of us may be used to the fighting (even vicariously, as viewers), the new folks had to figure out how to work through the process.

Also this week, we get a nugget of “Great Philosophical Advice” to Sledge, coming from one of the commanders (or someone with more authority than Sledge) at the end of the battle. Really, are you going to insult our intelligence with the whole “war is hell” mantra and pretend to offer some grand philosophical insight to make it all better?

That was trite. It was perhaps the most trite moment of the series so far.

Mostly, I spend the episodes reflecting on why I’m dissatisfied with the storytelling. On a technical level – and by that, I mean the special effects and the battle scenes – the series is great. But on a storytelling and personal level, it’s consistently lacking.

My latest conclusion got me thinking again about this issue of how we tell war stories (which I know I’ve discussed before). I’m wondering now: in this post-9/11 world, where we’ve been a country with heavy military involvement overseas for nearly a decade now, combined with the home front mixed-feelings about the conflicts (yet insistence on supporting the troops, no matter what you think about the war) -

maybe telling stories the “old way” no longer works. There’s something very “old-fashioned” to me about how the stories in The Pacific are being told. This is not, to my mind, a reflection on the original sources being used (the books by Leckie and Sledge, etc). This is also not to say, “oh, look, World War II – it was so different way back then!” – because actually, I think there are still many similarities to How We Do War.

But I think there are several things going on with this series that handicap it and prevent it from being a great work. And I think that has to do with relying on an old model of how we understand war and how we tell war stories.

Most Americans these days, even if we do not know anyone currently in the military, have a very vibrant understanding of What War Is. This is a marked contrast from the men and women who entered World War II – they had no conception of what war might be, aside from perhaps family stories about WW1.

In contrast, we’re bombarded daily by media images and stories. We can imagine the front lines easily, and we’ve seen the trauma war produces on bodies because such images are much more readily available to us as consumers of information. We also know how propaganda can help us imagine an enemy and provoke (in some cases) reactions to that enemy.

War is not new to any of us. But the story that Spielberg and Hanks are trying to give us seems old-fashioned in its telling, an almost quaint, “ooh look, war is horrible!” idea that just doesn’t shock or awe anymore.

In the past decade – unfortunately – we’ve become much more savvy cultural consumers of conflict. I think that this calls for rethinking how we tell war stories and what we want people to understand about wars past.  We have to re-imagine how we tell these stories.

I don’t have answers, but that’s the start.

Those Who Served

I’ve talked about my oral history interviews recently, but on Monday I had the honor of attending an American Legion Banquet. The national commander was in town, and the members of the local women’s Post acted as hosts. They invited me to come along, so I did, reaching outside my comfort zone to meet new people and see a little bit more about what all this is about.

The image above is from the POW-MIA ceremony, something I’d only heard about the week before and had never had the privilege to see. All American Legion events include this, which is meant to honor POWs and MIAs. The Honor Guard team marches slowly to a table set for one, each carrying a hat from one of the service branches (Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines, and Coast Guard).

They stand around the table and slowly rotate the brims of the hats to face them, then set the hats gently around the small circular table. Four of the members head to the side and stand at attention, while the fifth remains at the table to draw attention to the items there.

The POW-MIA table includes a plate with a slice of lemon and a pinch of salt, an inverted wine glass, a vase with a rose, and a candle that the Honor Guard lights. At the end, everyone takes a moment of silence.

It’s hard to really explain the experience and to do it justice. It was incredibly beautiful and moving, and I wished I had my camera (fortunately, my phone has one).

It was an amazing evening. I felt honored to get a glimpse into this organization and these women’s participation. And although I came in a little worried that I would know only one person, I was surprised at the number of people I did recognize or had spoken to – like Rose, the Korean War vet who saw me across the room and waved excitedly. And the ladies at the table with me, including Tori, my main contact, and Lowry, one of the other main figures in the organization (I forget official titles).

And I got to meet Melanie, a fun and fascinating Army vet who I got to interview two days later. It was great to connect after two weeks of playing phone tag, and it made me even more excited for our meeting later in the week.

Finally, there were the women I met: Mary Jane, a World War II Coast Guard vet who came in her uniform!, making everyone envious of her ability to still fit into it. And then there’s Esther, who, at 95, is still living a very busy life – too busy, often, to come to the Legion meetings! She and I will meet later this month, and the stories she told me Monday were a fantastic taste into what I might hear about her WW2 and Korean War service.

These are the women I’m coming to know, and these are the reasons why I’ve come to love oral history. Archives are wonderful, but making these connections and hearing the history firsthand from those who served? That, I think, is

HBO’s The Pacific, Episode 5

Hey look, I’m on time this week! And I promise that this show won’t be the only thing I write about this week. But for now, it’s all you get.

Halfway through the miniseries. Let’s see, two weeks ago was how we tell war stories (and “boys will be boys!”); last week was war is hell; and this week, well, this week – in case we’d forgotten – is a reminder of what it’s like to be thrown into the fire for the first time.

Which brings us up to TWO characters I now care about: Leckie and Sledge (AKA Jurassic Park Kid). Oh, plus the character I hate – the one Marine who just wants to give Sledge a hard time (and threw up in the transport coming off the boat).

Ho hum. We’ve seen this all before. I’ll continue to give Hanks and Spielberg props for excellent battle scenes, and the acting is fabulous. But aside from that, this war as degenerated into stereotypes. Basilone, back in the states, woos pretty women while on his War Bond tour after getting that Medal of Honor a few episodes ago. He gives advice to new recruits (“Listen to your NCOs.” …’What’s an NCO?’) and his little brother (the “don’t try to be brave and stupid!” line). He’s apparently having great sex because women like war heroes.

Yes, the women here are stereotypes, too, when they even exist. The nurses were practically invisible in last week’s episode, the woman with Basilone totally embodies the “victory-girl-have-sex-with-anyone” idea, and the poor lass in Australia, well, she was the most interesting (and probably the smartest, giving Leckie the old shove-off – er, kiss-off, I suppose). The TV Guide piece on the show a couple of months ago told me that we’d get at least one Woman Marine, but I haven’t seen anything of her yet (and frankly, she’ll only show up stateside, since WMs only served in the continental US during WW2).

Next week, it looks like we get the poor mother perspective, too.

By  now, it’s same-old, same-old. We know what to expect. Boys will shoot guns, they’ll get wounded, they’ll die. They’ll desecrate dead enemy bodies (which apparently must be shown, because yes, this happened and yes, we have to distinguish the “good Americans” from the “war-torn Americans” who just can’t deal with it anymore.) They’ll mess with each other and try to get the girl. They’ll become deeply affected by the time they spend in the Pacific.

But when will you show me a side of war we haven’t yet  seen? What good is it to spend so long working on such a major show and then give us only stereotypes and hollow figures? If this was a way to honor these veterans’ sacrifices, I’d argue instead that you’re diminishing them.

HBO’s The Pacific, Episode 4

If you’re following along at home, you’ll have noted that (A) I’m behind on my “regular” posting schedule and (B)I’m WAY behind on posting my thoughts on last Sunday’s episode. Last week, computer issues limited my access to this blog, then I was out of town. I hope to rectify this posting problem soon!

If Episode 3 was about how we tell war stories, then Episode 4 of The Pacific – which I finally caught up on yesterday – might be best characterized as a lesson in how war is hell.

But haven’t we seen all this before? This time, it’s Marines going a little crazy in the South Pacific. And as Hanks and Spielberg want to make clear, it’s a combination of the realities of combat and surviving the wet season on southern Pacific islands, where mud up to your ankles, constant rain, and bugs will wreck havoc on you.

I say none of this to diminish these veterans’ stories and experiences. They sacrificed so much in that war, and they deserve our respect and recognition for their hard efforts.

On the one hand, The Pacific offers an important, little-remembered perspective on World War II. American schoolchildren know all about the war in Europe. In third grade, I was learning about Ann Frank and getting my first tastes of the Holocaust. By high school, I felt pretty familiar with the European theater of war. Of the Pacific theater, we know mostly about Pearl Harbor – and even most of our knowledge of that (let’s face it) comes from things like film. (or at least my knowledge, for a long time.)

What I struggle with in The Pacific is that the story feels old, not new. This mini-series – so far – offers us nothing new in the way of how we remember, understand, or speak of war. The only things “new” are the venue (the Pacific theater) and the enemy (the Japanese). But we are no closer to understanding the enemy or even the venue. We see Americans, isolated in the middle of nowhere (except for that Australian respite). We see men writing letters home. We hear them use shorthand that most casual viewers have probably never heard, like “ETO” and “NCO”.

Just who IS the audience for this miniseries after all? Veterans themselves? Sure, that’s great. Their children and grandchildren, the American public at large? These are the people I envision watching this, wanting to learn. My grandfathers served in the Pacific, and I know nothing about their service – I’m sure plenty of other people also want to learn such stories that they’ve missed out on hearing.

And yet, The Pacific alienates civilians as often as it tries to draw them in. The Hanks voiceovers and the introductory oral histories are paltry attempts to draw connections for the viewer. These attempt to give context, but really, they don’t seem to add much (do we really have to buy the expensive companion materials to fully understand what’s going on?).

Further, the characters are fairly bland – aside from Leckie (who seems to be referred to as “Lucky,” but it’s always a bit unclear), I don’t really care about any of them so far with the potential exception of the kid from Jurassic Park who finally got INTO the Marines in last week’s episode.

I want more, Hanks and Spielberg. Where’s the heart? Where’s the connection?  But more importantly – can we stop with the cliches already?