One Bullet Away: The Making of a Marine Officer
by Nathaniel Fick
Houghton Mifflin

Just about everyone who reads this memoir will agree: Nathaniel Fick is one tough dude. In "One Bullet Away: The Making of a Marine Officer," Fick recounts, with great candor, what it took to become an officer in the United States Marine Corps and what it was like to take that training to the ground when the Marine's First Reconnaissance Battalion invaded Iraq in the spring of 2003. He endured some of the most challenging military training in the world, roared around Iraq in an open humvee and slept in shallow "Ranger graves." He challenged his superiors, called in air strikes and distributed food to grateful civilians. He made life and death decisions. He killed.

Fick's writing is clear and conversational, and he displays terrific skill at recalling emotions in a fresh and lucid way. His intelligence shines through — no surprise, given Fick has an undergraduate degree from Dartmouth and is now in a joint-degree program at the Harvard Business School and the Kennedy School of Government. It is an interesting juxtaposition: a highly astute young man from the insular world of the Ivy League trades in his books and becomes a warrior with the most effective killing force on the planet. It's a familiar and romantic story — the gentleman-warrior, the scholar-soldier, capable of both brutality and of writing a best-selling book.

And brutality there is, in abundance. The war scenes Fick sketches are deeply upsetting, perhaps none more so than those involving wounded Iraqi children and the frustration and guilt the Marines feel for being unable to control this carnage. But there is something else unsettling about the book, beyond the violence. At its core, it's missing the very thing that one would expect from someone of Fick's intellect and ability. That is, namely, some deep reflection on the value of the war itself and of the author's place in the larger conflict. I read with the hope that Fick would devote at least a few pages to his personal thoughts regarding the legality of the war, its worth, and its effectiveness. Most of all, I hoped he would discuss, with the same candor he displayed in writing about combat, the way in which he resolved those feelings with the reality of his service obligations. Did he agree with the war? If not, how did he justify his participation in it? Did he take issue with the way the political leadership used the military? Was the cost worth the benefit? Is it still? Most importantly: does he feel he did the right thing?

Instead of these hard questions, Fick provides an easy answer: he is serving his country; his country is a democracy with elected leaders; these leaders are elected in order to enact the popular will; and the American military serves at their behest. True? At least in theory. Satisfactory? Not really. And instead of trying to tackle the question of whether the war was the right thing to do, he skirts it, writing: "I hope life improves for the people of Afghanistan and Iraq, but that's not why we did it. We fought for each other. I am proud." But what about the larger context? What if the invasion of Iraq turns out to be a terrible mistake? If history proves that the United States acted foolishly, with disastrous consequences? Would Fick feel any remorse for his part in the war? Would he still be proud?

Maybe Fick went to war because he had to, and now either cannot or will not question if it was worth the cost. As he makes abundantly clear, Marines, even smart, well-educated Marines, are not afforded the luxury of self-reflection or deep soul searching. They are trained to inflict lethal force on the battlefield, and no matter what one thinks of this war, there is no denying that Fick and his men did this with great skill, courage and dignity.

More than anything, Fick is to be admired for that — for facing death with humility simply because it was what his country asked of him. We should all be grateful our military has men of such of caliber. I for one, however, wish Fick's talents had been aimed at another cause, one that would have allowed him to address the hard questions, and which would have left him with no doubt as to the answers.

— Nate Wood (wood.nathan.a@gmail.com)