“In our imaginations, war is the name we give to the extremes of violence in our lives, the dark dividing opposite of the connecting myth, which we call love. War enacts the great antagonisms of history, the agonies of nations; but it also offers metaphors for those other antagonisms, the private battles of our private lives, our conflicts with one another and with the world, and with ourselves.”
 
Samuel Hynes knows war personally: he served as a Marine Corps pilot in the Pacific Theater during World War II, receiving the Distinguished Flying Cross. He has spent his life balancing two careers: pilot and professor of literature. Hynes has written a number of major works of literary criticism, as well as a war-memoir, Flights of Passage, and several books about the World Wars. His writing is sharp, lucid, and has provided some of the most expert, detailed, and empathetic accounts of a disappearing generation of fighters and writers.
            On War and Writing offers for the first time a selection of Hynes’s essays and introductions that explore the traditions of war writing from the twentieth century to the present. Hynes takes as a given that war itself—the battlefield uproar of actual combat—is unimaginable for those who weren’t there, yet we have never been able to turn away from it. We want to know what war is really like: for a soldier on the Somme; a submariner in the Pacific; a bomber pilot over Germany; a tank commander in the Libyan desert. To learn, we turn again and again to the memories of those who were there, and to the imaginations of those who weren’t, but are poets, or filmmakers, or painters, who give us a sense of these experiences that we can’t possibly know.
           The essays in this book range from the personal (Hynes’s experience working with documentary master Ken Burns, his recollections of his own days as a combat pilot) to the critical (explorations of the works of writers and artists such as Thomas Hardy, E. E. Cummings, and Cecil Day-Lewis). What we ultimately see in On War and Writing is not military history, not the plans of generals, but the feelings of war, as young men expressed them in journals and poems, and old men remembered them in later years—men like Samuel Hynes.

An Attack by an American Infantry Company During World War I and Its Aftermath
 “Who can explain the feelings or thoughts of a soldier during the last few minutes before a battle? He fixes his bayonet, sees that his rifle is working properly, loads it, turns the safety lock, doing a dozen things, automatically from force of training. Just a faint trace of nervousness. . . . A few of us were think­ing of a wife and children hoping if it was our turn to ‘Go West,’ that the folks back home would not feel too badly.”—from Other Men’s Lives
Receiving orders in March 1917 to report for active service in the European war, Capt. William J. Reddan and his New Jersey National Guard unit joined the 29th Infantry Division of the U.S. Army. Following training for “Over There,” which included maneuvering under live machine gun and grenade fire and constant bayonet drills, Reddan assumed command of Company B, 114th Infantry—two hundred officers and men. Arriving in France in June 1918, Reddan and his company entered the frontline trenches along the Alsace front in August. Fighting side by side with the French, the 114th conducted patrols in “no man’s land,” repulsed attacks, and endured artillery and chemical barrages. Toward the end of September, the regiment was moved by truck to a new sector: the Argonne Forest. Here, Reddan and his company would be part of the Meuse-Argonne offensive, the largest in the history of the U.S. Army. This final Allied assault would last until the Armistice, November 11, 1918, and claim the most American lives of the war. On October 12, Reddan and the rest of the 114th Infantry were ordered to take a German position that was supposed to offer little resistance; instead, Reddan watched in horror as his company was destroyed: of his two hundred officers and men, only thirteen survived the ordeal. Wounded by both shrapnel and gas, Reddan was evacuated to a field hospital and did not return to his unit until after peace was declared.
Written in 1936, Other Men’s Lives: Experiences of a Doughboy, 1917–1919 recounts the complete story of Reddan’s company in the World War, including the true story of what happened in that tragic October battle as well as the political aftermath that sought to exonerate the upper command who had bungled the operation.