I recently read the analog to this book, "With the Old Breed" by Eugene Sledge, about many of the same Marine engagements in the South Pacific during WWII. I thought "HFMP" would be a rehash of the same, but its told by a different kind of writer: While Sledge is thoughtful, simple in his prose, and sees most things through a moral lens, Robert Leckie is profane, writes brilliantly, and celebrates situational morality: he and his fellow jarheads carouse callously in Melbourne; steal from each other in combat; display no sensitivity to death; fake illness to be removed from combat; and bitterly hate both the enemy and their own officers. Nevertheless, both are truly powerful. The myth of the "greatest generation" has been flogged ad nauseum and I've partaken in it (my own father flew B-24s in the Palaus), but after these two fine books, I see these men more as they truly were: young scared soldiers who were asked to do the most terrible things mankind is capable of (sometimes wilfully, sadly), and they were necessarily scarred thereby. Sledge went on to a quiet life as a college biology professor; Leckie became a prolific novelist (40 or more). Both survived into their 80s and both, from what I've gathered, were fine, upstanding men after the War.But only Sledge's weaknesses were not hardened by the War. He entered the Marines an honest, good boy, experienced horror, rejected it as best he could, and left it behind when the War was over. He "never put the uniform on again."From Leckie's book, I wonder: Was he able to do the same? Unless his book is full of hyperbole (which I doubt; he and "Sledgehammer" were in the same conflict on Peleliu), his casual acceptance of the brutality in which they engaged HAD to have devastating longterm consequences for his own life.There is no GOOD war, from the soldier-on-the-ground's perspective; the only good war is a short war where you survive and Robert Leckie suffered through the entire, endless Pacific campaign. My heart goes out to his suffering, privations, and the inevitable damage he suffered; indeed, Leckie himself wonders in the book who was hurt more: those who died or those who lived. Yet his own moral failings (which undoubtedly preceded the War) reveal his lack of true understanding of the conflict: the book's epilogue is a meditation about the wrongfulness of the atom bomb, yet Leckie had to know the projected American casualty rates had we invaded Japan itself -- Leckie might have been one of the men on those beaches facing tens of thousands of fanatical emperor-worshipers. His lack of comprehension that the atom bomb saved untold American AND Japanese lives betrays a moral blindness that is the root cause of his many smaller moral failings he so eagerly and definitively recounts in the book. In addition, HFMP was published more than ten years after the end of WWII and the horror of the atom bomb had kept the peace until then. It still keeps the peace today; our conflicts are sporadic and small. There are no wars anymore where 7000 men die in a fortnight.True, war still exists and probably always will. I don't believe in the "perfectablility" of man and therefore have little hope he will improve drastically in my lifetime. Leckie and Sledge saw the proof of this in dramatic, unforgettable terms and both lived to tell about it. Both men exhibited courage and honor, but only Sledge proved that War doesn't always bring out the worst in a man as well.Nevertheless, this book is HIGHLY RECOMMENDED for the serious student of WWII, or any war for that matter.
Leckie on one of his first horrifying nights in the jungles of Guadalcanal:"I had not looked into its foliage before the darkness and now I fancied it infested with Japanese. Everything and all the world became my enemy, and soon my very body betrayed me and became my foe. My leg became creeping Japanese, and then the other leg. My arms, too, and then my head.My heart was alone. It was me. I was my heart.It lay quivering, I lay quivering, in that rotten hole while the darkness gathered and all creation conspired for my heart.How long? I lay for an eternity. There was no time. Time had disintegrated in that black void. There was only emptiness, and that is Something; there was only being: there was only consciousness.Like the light that comes up suddenly in a darkened theatre, daylight came quickly. Dawn came, and so my-self came back to myself. I could see the pale outlines of my comrades to right and left, and I marveled to see how tame my tree could be, how unforbidding could be its branches.I know now why men light fires."After reading and enjoying Sedge’s With The Old Breed, Leckie’s Helmet For My Pillow was not a disappointment. As different as the two authors are, their stories are remarkably similar in a few regards.Neither men write about how many Japanese they kill. They both, in detail, write about the first time they think kill. Neither do they write down the most offensive vulgar words, but rather hint in a clever way what is actually being said.They do not give anyone’s real name. For example, a Lieutenant that graduated from an upper-crest university is Ivy-League; a medaled track star, Runner.They both have nothing but disgust for the rear-echelon, the Army, incompetent officers, and those that were drafted. They especially dislike the rear-echelon souvenir hunters and officers that take their hard-earned mementos under false pretenses.Leckie and Sledge both quickly come to the conclusion that they’re expendable. As a result, they resort to amusing minor shenanigans to make life more comfortable, their number one target: stealing from the Army and rear-echelon.If you’re looking for a chronological read, start with Leckie and then read Sledge. Leckie’s memoir begins with him, in the fourth paragraph, being circumcised, at the age of 21, just after Pearl Harbor so he can join the Marines. Leckie’s very candid writing takes him from Parris Island, to San Francisco, to Guadalcanal, to Australia, to Cape Gloucester, Pavuvu, and then finishes at Peleliu, where Sledge’s story begins as he joins the Guadalcanal veterans on Pavuvu as a replacement before the invasion of Peleliu. Sledge then goes on to describe Peleliu and Okinawa in great detail. Leckie, a northerner and 30-cal machine gunner, is a handful for his superior officers. Leckie never rises above the rank of Private First Class; as a matter of fact he has it taken away from him four times after a handful of alcohol-fused incidents, which leads him to the proudly self-proclaimed honor of a hard-fighting, hard-drinking, Marine Brig-rat. Leckie’s descriptions of battle are not as good as Sledge’s, however, his antics between fighting and utter disdain for officers makes for great reading. Leckie, according to Wikipedia, wrote forty books and died in December of 2001; Professor E.B. Sledge died in March of 2001.HBO’s The Pacific will be different from Band of Brothers. The Pacific will be extremely violent. And better.
Do You like book Helmet For My Pillow (2001)?
This book combines the raw grittiness of war as experienced up close and personal with the introspection of a man who doesn't simply experience the war, but tries to understand it.This book definitely changed my understanding of WWII. I no longer believe that the US was patriotically united as one, moving in joyous lockstep towards victory. This is partially because Leckie returns repeatedly to the theme that the war inspired no songs from Americans. The songs Leckie and his comrades sang were borrowed from either WWI or from the Allies.Additionally, I understand better why men in combat fight for their comrades - not to defeat the enemy or serve their country. The truth dawns on Leckie on Guadalcanal - he is expendable. A man who knows he is expendable loses his spirit for the fight, and latches on to the support of his comrades - or goes mad.Leckie shares his full military experience - including that of the tyranny of military officers who have near-total control of a man. In the words of one officer, Leckie was "too smart." He learned the ways that a man could preserve his independence and fight back against the tyranny. Unfortunately, there are only small victories in such a fight; Leckie was a known "brig rat."Finally, Leckie shares a very deep perspective on the atomic bomb. He was in a unique situation to appreciate what the "mushroom cloud" meant for him as a marine who might be called on to fight more, and as someone who had survived bombings and bombardment.I believe Robert Leckie was preserved by God so that we could know the truth about WWII. This book will satisfy both the boy or young man who wishes to learn about real combat, along with the more mature reader who demands deeper truth artistically communicated.
—Dan Walker
Helmet for My Pillow follows the author Robert Leckie's true journey through the pacific during World War II. Written by the man himself, he recalls what it was like to become one with fighting and live in the poorest conditions soldiers knew at the time. The story covers the day he was sworn in as a marine to the day he stopped fighting. He makes friends along the way and passes time by giving everyone around him names like "chuckler", "white-man", and "the gay texan". He also loses friends and talks about what that meant to him. If you are looking for a first hand book then you will really like this one. Leckie goes into great detail about everything he experienced while in the Marines. It's amazing that he can remember all of what he wrote but then again, war can be a life changing experience and the things he's seen and gone through could change anyone's life. I thought it was a solid book but I gave it a 4/5 because it did get slow at times. The action packed chapters were enough to get me through the whole book and he does a very good job of portraying his feelings through out it all. One thing to note, he uses a lot of big vocabulary so have a dictionary handy if you're not big on words. Over all it is a good book and I recommend it to anyone who's interested in first hand stories about World War II.
—Wyatt
The Pacific Theatre in World War II is not as well known to armchair historians for a number of reasons, among them the much larger collection of works about the war in Europe. Toss in the non-linear aspect of campaigns, which hopped from obscure island to island. On top of that, the brutality of the fighting and the racial/racist dynamic of fighting the Japanese versus Germans who looked just like Uncle Joe make the Pacific War a dark, dark topic.I came across Leckie's book by virtue of watching HBO's The Pacific series a couple of years back. Leckie is played by the brooding James Badge Dale, if you watched that production. Much of the HBO storyline comes from this book, which is Leckie's story of his life from induction through boot camp at Parris Island and then on to fighting in the Pacific. Leckie is unusual, an intellectual and writer who volunteers for the front-line job of a Marine scout and machine gunner. His book is easy to read yet deeply profound about life as a young marine, struggling among other young men, trying to make sense of the military, of life, and of the hellish jungles of Guadalcanal and Peleliu. It's a war book about killing and patrols and campaigns, but also one about being thrown in the brig, sybaritic shore leave in Australia, and the thievery and corner cutting required to keep the First marines in food and comfort, such as could be had in those awful places.Leckie had respect for his enemy, and some of the most effective anti-war statements I've ever read are passages in this book where he recalls the cold-stone sadness of dead bodies sprawled about, a man's hand, severed, no longer a divine spark.This book will allow you to taste, smell, and feel what it was like for the brave young men who beat back the Japanese Empire, fighting atoll to island, far from the hoopla. Bless Robert Leckie, who could have served honorably in the rear echelon, but chose to fight up front: "Keep it up, America, keep telling your youth that mud and danger are only fit for intellectual pigs. Keep saying that only the stupid are fit to sacrifice, that America must be defended by the low-brow and enjoyed by the high-brow. Keep vaunting head over heart, and soon the head will arrive at the complete folly of any kind of fight and meekly surrender the treasure to the first bandit with enough heart to demand it."
—Rob Maynard
