Pitch perfect prose. An easy read because the singular event of the title is the only action. Your mind cannot wander because the events are elaborated and explored until the lemon has given up all its juice. It's as if Styron's written a paragraph for each step of the journey. You go through it with the soldiers. The ultimate irony is that at a certain point the journey I was taking as a reader started to seem pointless. Where was I going and why? At the end, I wondered why I'd begun. This pointlessness mimics the experience of the soldiers, but I guess I wanted more -- some resolution, some sense of climax, some sort of orgasm. I guess I wanted more of the following: Mannix was "a mass of scars" from war wounds. "But underneath his rebellion Culver knew Mannix -- like all of them -- was really resigned. Born into a generation of conformists, even Mannix was aware that his gestures were not symbolic, but individual, therefore hopeless, maybe even absurd, and that he was trapped like all of them in a predicament which one personal insurrection could, if anything, only make worse. 'You know,' he said once, 'I think I was really afraid just one time last war.' The phrase 'last war' had had, itself, a numb, resigned quality, in its lack of any particular inflection, like 'last weekend', or 'last movie I went to see'"(39). "He was not man enough to crap out, not man enough to disavow all his determination and endurance and suffering. He was not man enough, far less simply a free man; he was just a marine and would go on being a marine forever. The corruption begun years ago in his drill feet had climbed up, overtaken him, and begun to rot his brain" (74-5). This is a tragic book (not in any obvious ways) and a good one.