One of the odd things about America's long and fruitless military operations in Iraq is that most Americans don't know a great deal about it. What I mean by saying that is this: I can go to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and show you around the battlefield there, point out all of the major landmarks, and tell you where both forces were arrayed and what kind of weapons they fought with and how many people died. And that battle was a hundred and fifty years ago, and everyone who fought in it is long dead. I probably know ten times more detail about Gettysburg (or Vicksburg, or Shiloh, or the Somme, or Pearl Harbor) than I know about any single battle of the Iraq war, even though the Iraq war was fought in my lifetime, and I have access to the world's greatest repository of information here on my couch, through my battered old Dell laptop.
Why is that?
I don't have one good answer. Part of it is that the Iraq war happened on the far side of the world, in unfamiliar territory. Part of it is that there isn't a great deal of easily-digested popular history that has come out of the war--and certainly no great movies, although those may come. Part of it is that there is so much else to distract us from the events of that war. And part of it--I am just saying this for me, now--is that maybe I haven't been as good a citizen as I could have been with respect to that war.
But one element that makes the Iraq war so hard to grapple with is its sameness. The old adage is that if you are not the lead dog pulling the dog sled, the scenery doesn't vary much--and being very far back in this particular pack, the mental scenery I have of the war has a great deal of sameness--mortar attacks and IED explosions and suicide bombers, following each other in a semi-random progression, with the pattern broken by a helicopter crash here and there, or the capture of an important prisoner. There is an indistinctness about the whole thing, half-remembered news stories, soldiers coming home over and over to be greeted by happy families and excited dogs, other soldiers coming home with brain injuries, or in flag-draped coffins, and all of this going on for years without a victory, or a parade, or whatever it was that the soldiers were over there fighting for in the first place.
So BRAVE DEEDS, the second novel by Iraq vet David Abrams, does two brave things. It tells the story of a day in Iraq, but not a day like any day. It is, for the six soldiers who experience it, fundamentally different for two reasons. It is different not because one of their comrades has died, but because they defy orders to travel across Baghdad to his indifferent funeral. And in doing so, the six soldiers manage to proceed from one incredibly stupid mistake to another. (It is one thing to remember that FUBAR and SNAFU are military terms, but the screw-ups here are on a plane above even that.) This is helpful from a structural perspective, not only because it avoids some of the listlessness inherent in Abrams's earlier novel, FOBBIT, but because it propels the story forward to a logical conclusion.
The other brave thing is entirely literary. BRAVE DEEDS is told from the perspective of the squad--the whole squad, a "hive-mind" of all six soldiers together. The narrative does alight on the individual squad members from time to time--the cowardly radioman, the dutiful corporal, the murderous slacker--but never stays with any of them for very long. BRAVE DEEDS is--and I don't mean this in the pejorative meaning of the word--a collectivist novel, told from a six-headed perspective, and it is pitched at just the appropriate level of disorientation. Abrams compares his squad to a bug, traveling across an alien landscape, and the reader gets a necessarily distorted fly-eye view of the journey.
I stress this, because I found myself asking myself who the actual narrator was--whether one of the six soldiers will step up and become the hero of the piece and save the day. I was, frankly, hoping to find that there was a likable, relatable character in the group. But no such luck; Abrams is not about to let us off that easy. This is not a novel that provides easy thrills or cheap grace, and it is all the better for it.
BRAVE DEEDS is a thoroughly honest and unsparing look at six (very) ordinary Americans thrown into the chaos of wartime Baghdad. Abrams tells his story with hard-earned authenticity and brutal honesty. It is a sharply-edged look at a war that few of us wanted to look at while it was happening.