In Pharoah's Army is not your typical Vietnam kill pulp. Wolff's memoir as an Army Special Forces officer explores the nooks and crannies of the wartime experience not related to combat. The kinetic stuff is saved for brief, violent moments. It's a remarkable book, the first war memoir I read before knowing the genre. Wolff's other works, like The Barracks Thief and This Boy's Life, show his ability to use self-deprecation. In Pharoah's Army, the narrator lacks the courage to admit incompetence and is willing to be killed or get others killed to avoid humiliation. He takes us on a hapless, malingering, and tragic journey. He's the antithesis of today's Special Forces stereotype and the polar opposite of a war lit hero archetype. Unlike Catch-22's Yossarian, he's accessible. The memoir is essayistic, with chapters that can stand alone. It's divided into three sections: pre-, during-, and post-Tet Offensive. The prose is deft, the narration restrained, and the narrative arcs controlled. It's Wolff in the tradition of This Boy's Life, but now the boy has gone to war. The time elapsed between Wolff's deployment in 1968 and publication in 1994 is significant. In the past decade, war writers of my generation produce memoirs within five years. I don't know the reason, but it's worth noting. Some stories need more time to marinate, while others need less. This one is just right after a quarter-century of ripening.
*Note: this review also appears on my website*