EVEN THE MOVIES say "War is hell". What the movies rarely tell us is that war is ugly. Surely, we all understand, at least abstractly, the ethical ambivalence involved in ending life for the sake of the living. Still, for generations of Americans raised on hazy memories of "righteous" wars from the War of Independence down to World War II, these incidentals are trivial stacked against the glory of our supposed war-time causes. Suffering merely humbles the victor, makes his triumph more noble, more admirable. It entitles him to his booty. Political and social questions aside, this points up what troubles Americans most about our entanglement in Indochina; we are losing, and no matter how it is presented, the Vietnam war seems anti-moral and anti-aesthetic.
Herein also lies the difficulty in capturing the texture of the Vietnam fiasco in poetry. A poetry of praise is inconceivable. A poetry of moral indignation would be selfrighteous and deal too gloriously with its inglorious subject. An ideological poetry would obscure the human essence of all that is poetic.
Michael Casey, the winner of the 1972 Yale Younger Poets Award, is perhaps the first American poet to deal successfully with the Vietnam War; he is the first to capture with candor, humor, freshness of insight, a careful eye for detail, and an exceptionally attentive ear for language the thoroughly human fabric of a war from which most of us are physically and, too often, emotionally far removed. A former base guard and highway patrolman in Vietnam, Casey witnessed little of the action from which heroic yarns are spun. Rather, he saw in combat and heard expressed the neuroses of belligerent officers, the fears and daily preoccupations of draftees and enlisted men, and the perpetual, decidedly, mundane struggle of Vietnamese peasants and their children to live and to grow amidst the never-ending holocaust. The very title of his book Obscenities underscores the accuracy of his perspective; however cruel or blackly comic the words or actions he records, we are constantly aware of their idiosyncratic relationship to the human spirit.
Besides the general virtues of his attitude as a poet. Casey exhibits three distinctive assets throughout his work: an abundance of impression mixed with a frugality of expression, an uncanny ability to recreate atmosphere through the faithful reproduction of speech, and a willingness to avoid taking himself in his role as an observer too seriously. The last is particularly important because Casey's writing comes closer to reportage than to philosophy. His tone is only occasionally reflective, and he is careful not to aggrandize his subject by allowing his own role to loom too large.
"KNOWLEDGE" is a good example of how, with a brief but pointedly accurate portrayal of soldiers' language, Casey transmits the fears and pretensions of which much of military life is made:
When the Command Sergeant Major
Asks ya somethin
Don't get nervous or scairt
Don't get flustrated...
The same insight stands out in "Sierra Tango" ("s" and "t" in the phonetic radio alphabet) in its juxtaposition of official and informal tones:
Such reprehensible conduct
Merited subject ride
To Provost Marshal's Office
Where subject was cited
And released to unit
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