Hugh Ambrose: The Pacific

Honoring his father and mine

Hugh Ambrose, best-selling author of "The Pacific" at a recent Barnes & Noble book signing. Mr. Marshall's girlfriend manages such events at her B&N location, and if you're wondering about the success of his book, note the sold-out shelves behind him.

My father was a Navy veteran of World War II in the Pacific and I'm very grateful that my autographed copy of "The Pacific" says: "To G.L., in honor of your father. Hugh."

Hugh Ambrose knows something about honoring fathers. His dad, Stephen, was a giant in historical literature, and so even though he did me a dandy favor with the signature, it was going to be the writer and editor in me that actually read his book. Nothing personal, but when I start a book, I want it to be good -- and not somebody just cashing in on his name (and that means you, Jimmy Buffett).

I'm pleased to report the son is doing fine. I rolled right through it. "The Pacific" is very well crafted. His dad would be proud.

* * *

The Tidewater area of Virginia is a company town, though not in the normal sense of a town surrounding a paper or steel mill. The company here is the Navy. There are more uniformed active military here than anyplace else in America, and tens of thousands of veterans.

Which makes for a crowd right up Ambrose's alley.

At this signing there were veterans, old veterans, really old veterans, children of veterans -- even young men planning to join the Marines after finishing school. There were moments of real emotion, a thanking of Mr. Ambrose for honoring these men and what they had to go through. There was also a fair degree of sheepishness; a lot of people have made HBO a budget cut in these tough economic times, which made the book more accessible than the 10-part mini-series.

For those watching it on HBO, I'd like to add one thing, and it concerns what happens when one of those brave young Marines go down.

It was folks like my dad who were sewing the body bags.

***

The USS Rigel was a supply and repair ship, so while Charlie Marshall got to see some of the great battlefields of the Pacific, he was normally there well after the shooting had stopped. His war had more to do with sewing machines than machine guns, but his training served him well. Guy could fix anything -- a handy skill after a battle -- and he spent time sewing up hospital tents, tarps and yes, body bags.

Decades after sailing into the Leyte Gulf (Gen. Douglas MacArthur had made good on his vow to return in late 1944) you could still hear the awe in his voice, the looking out over miles of landscape, thousands of trees, and not seeing a single green leaf. Seeing that every living green thing had been blasted away. Made quite an impression on a kid from the green hollows of Kentucky.

My father never talked much about the war, which is certainly understandable when you think of all the grief represented in the cotton and/or canvas bags he produced. I know he enjoyed his time in Sydney, Australia (and I still have, and can still wear, the dress uniform he got while there) and he thought New Zealand was the most beautiful place on Earth. But in terms of specifics, pretty much nothing.

He was, however, a real student of history and many a time when I was a kid, he'd point me in the direction of our encyclopedias and say "Look it up." The encyclopedias had come from a grocery store promotion, and being quite poor at the time, the promotion ran out before my family could get a complete set.

I have a feeling Hugh Ambrose had similar love-of-history moments with his father, except that he wasn't out of luck if the topic fell between S and Z.

***

As a matter of writing as a craft, it's very important that the audience know more than the character (think of all the horror movies where folks yell "Don't open that door!") This is a particular challenge for Mr. Ambrose, who is working from memoirs, diaries and contemporaneous accounts. In the fog of war, his characters don't know the big picture and it would be unfaithful to the story to let big-picture omniscience leak in. Mr. Ambrose does a really deft job at keeping things in the present even though that present is many, many years ago. Okinawa is particularly breath-taking in its grimness.

Thanks to his skill in researching real stories from real people, great little insights come through, insights that would make Stephen Ambrose proud. One of the characters arrives in Pearl Harbor four months after the infamous attack:

"It looked like the bombs had just exploded. Six inches of oil covered the water. It stank. It stuck to everything."

I've been reading about World War II for decades, and it never occurred to me how long it would have taken to clean up after the attack. That is, until this -- and that, my friend, is what a good writer of history is supposed to do. You think of Pearl Harbor in World War II and you think of khaki uniforms and grey ships and thousands of people scurrying around saluting -- not a body of water that looks like the Santa Barbara oil spill.

Thank you, Mr. Ambrose. Not only for the autograph, but for a really good piece of work.

-30-

When Mr. Marshall hears nitwit Texas politicians talk about seceding from the union, he wishes more people studied and appreciated history -- especially the best 256 words ever written.

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