James Webb [Webb - Fields of Fire

In swift, flexible prose that does everything he asks of itincluding a whiff of hilarious farce just to show he can do itWebb gives us an extraordinary range of acutely observed people, not one a stereotype, and as many different ways of looking at that miserable war Fields of Fire is a stunner.
Newsweek

James Webb has rehabilitated the idea of the American heronot John Wayne, to be sure, but every man, caught up in circumstances beyond his control, surviving the blood, dreck, and absurdity with dignity and even a certain elan. Fields of Fire is an antiwar book, yes, but not naively, dumbly anti-soldier or anti-American Webb pulls off the scabs and looks directly, unflinchingly on the open wounds of the Sixties.
Philadelphia Inquirer

Webbs book has the unmistakable sound of truth acquired the hard way. His men hate the war; it is a lethal fact cut adrift from personal sense. Yet they understand that its profound insanity, its blood and oblivion, have in some way made them fall in love with battle and with each other.
Time

A rich, sweeping epic of a novel an absolute winner.
Nelson DeMille

Powerfully compelling and moving historical fiction of a high order hypnotic storytelling mesmerizing.
Publishers Weekly (starred review)

This compelling, fascinating exercise of historical fiction proves, again, that Jim Webb is as fine a novelist as he was a Marine. Enough said.
George F. Will

James Webb offers it all a page-turning tour de force that examines our morality and makes us question what we ourselves would have done.
Nicholas Sparks, author of The Notebook and Message in a Bottle

With The Emperors General, Jim Webb cements his reputation as an extraordinarily gifted storyteller. He excels in mining the rich veins of history to invest his fiction with the drama of great events, and to set a grand stage on which his protagonist must reconcile the call of duty and the demands of his conscience. An engrossing, moving, and splendid book.
Senator John McCain

A seamless tapestry of history and fiction a truly enthralling work.
The Hartford Courant

An insightful account of a part of history that still lives with us today An excellent addition to anyones collection of World War II fiction.
Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

This edition contains the complete text of the original edition.
NOT ONE WORD HAS BEEN OMITTED .

FIELDS OF FIRE
A Bantam Book
PUBLISHING HISTORY

Prentice-Hall, Inc. edition published 1978. First Bantam mass market edition published 1979. Pocket Books edition published 1991. Military Book Club Commemorative Edition published 1998. Bluejacket Books edition published 2000. Bantam mass market edition / September 2001.

Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following (in the order they appear in the text) for permission to reprint previously published song lyrics:

Earl Barton Music Co., Inc.: Specified lines from the song Neon Rainbow, by Wayne Thompson. Copyright 1967 by Earl Barton Music, Inc. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission.

Gypsy Boy Music, Inc.: Specified words from the song Until Its Time for You to Go, by Buffy Sainte-Marie. Copyright 1965, 1973 by Gypsy Boy Music, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

From the song These Eyes, by Burton Cummings and Randy Bachman. Copyright 1969 by Cirrus Music. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Cedarwood Publishing Co.: Specified lines from Ruby (Dont Take Your Love to Town), by Mel Tillis. Copyright 1966 by Cedarwood Publishing Co. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Tuna Fish Music Co.: Specified lines from the song And When I Die, by Laura Nyro. Copyright 1969 by Tuna Fish Music Co. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Jondora Music: Specified lines from the song Bad Moon Rising, by John Fogerty. Copyright 1969 by Jondora Music. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

ResWot Tunes, Inc.: Specified lines from the song Behind Blue Eyes, by Peter Townshend. Copyright 1971 by ResWot Tunes, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

All rights reserved.
Copyright 1978 by James Webb.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 78-21182.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
publisher. For information address: Bantam Books.

eISBN: 978-0-307-48477-2

Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words Bantam Books and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, New York, New York.

v3.1_r1

Map of the An Hoa Basin by Gary Lee Webb

And who are the young men we are asking to go into action against such solid odds? Youve met them. You know. They are the best we have. But they are not McNamaras sons, or Bundys. I doubt theyre yours. And they know theyre at the end of the pipeline. That no one cares. They know.

an anonymous general to correspondent Arthur Hadley

Hodges sat against a wet, grassy paddy dike and lazily stirred a can of Beef and Potatoes with a dirty plastic spoon. Raindrops popped and sizzled as they pelted the tiny stove in front of him, which he had made by punching holes in another C-ration tin. His eyes were sunken, his face gaunt and bearded. He dragged mechanically on a muddy cigarette, mindless of the stream of water that was pouring off his helmet down the back of his neck. There was no way to avoid the rain. His body was crinkly from it and he didnt care anymore.

Snake approached and sat on the dike, at Hodges shoulder. He took off his glasses and absently wiped mud off one lense, using his skivvy shirt. He put them back on without examining the wiped lense.

Across the paddy to their front, in the mist of a rain-drenched treeline, a group of dark-clothed figures hastened into a stone pagoda. The tanks turret followed the shadowed apparitions, its long 90-millimeter gun tube pointing toward the trees like an ominous finger. The turret halted and the tube exploded and in one quick moment a White Phosphorus shell erupted inside the pagoda, having been shot expertly through the door. Thick white smoke rushed from every opening of the pagoda, and mixed with the low rain-mist.

Snake nodded, lighting a cigarette. Get some, tank. Half a dozen crispy critters in there, now.

Hodges grunted. Fucking tank.

Ahhh, Lieutenant. Snake continued to stare absently at the shrouded treeline. More gooners than I ever seen. We could really be in the hurt locker tonight.

Thats what I mean. Fucking tank.

Snake shifted his gaze to the treadless tank that had anchored them in such an indefensible position. It sat like a wounded mastodon in the middle of the exposed paddy. The company was digging a perimeter around it, to protect it. Senators pissed off again.