I started Acceptable Loss: An Infantry Soldier's Perspective with some misgivings. From the title, it looked like it would be a glorification of war. But Jorgenson writes about the experience of war with nuance.
He takes to soldiering in Vietnam with alacrity, volunteering for Long Range Reconnaissance Patrols, where Rangers are dropped close to NVA positions. They spend five days in the field, careful not to engage the enemy, trying to gather intelligence on NVA positions. With only five man crews, not engaging the enemy is all important. But things go wrong, of course, and Jorgenson is wounded in a firefight.
The reader gradually realizes that a nineteen year old in combat becomes less effective once wounded. The author can no longer be a LRRP. On his second assignment, he rescues downed helicopter crews. While with this crew, Jorgenson is wounded twice, totaling three times – three purple hearts. He wins the silver and bronze star. By the end of his tour he is running the camp's enlisted bar. His friends have rotated out, and he will be gone soon as well. The war is no longer his war.
It is hard not to see Jorgenson’s point: a war takes young men and woman, burns away their effectiveness, and then brings more young men and woman to replace them. Some are wounded, and other die - but all are stamped by the war. This cycle is particularly grim considering the overall tenor of the Vietnam War.
He takes to soldiering in Vietnam with alacrity, volunteering for Long Range Reconnaissance Patrols, where Rangers are dropped close to NVA positions. They spend five days in the field, careful not to engage the enemy, trying to gather intelligence on NVA positions. With only five man crews, not engaging the enemy is all important. But things go wrong, of course, and Jorgenson is wounded in a firefight.
The reader gradually realizes that a nineteen year old in combat becomes less effective once wounded. The author can no longer be a LRRP. On his second assignment, he rescues downed helicopter crews. While with this crew, Jorgenson is wounded twice, totaling three times – three purple hearts. He wins the silver and bronze star. By the end of his tour he is running the camp's enlisted bar. His friends have rotated out, and he will be gone soon as well. The war is no longer his war.
It is hard not to see Jorgenson’s point: a war takes young men and woman, burns away their effectiveness, and then brings more young men and woman to replace them. Some are wounded, and other die - but all are stamped by the war. This cycle is particularly grim considering the overall tenor of the Vietnam War.
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