
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
There have to be as many angles about war, specifically WWII, as there are people who were involved. I have read A LOT of literature about concentration camps, occupation, relocation, and hiding of Jews during WWII, but not a lot about the soldiers themselves. This book follows two soldiers in Africa and Italy toward the end of WWII. What you realize is that even without the sadistic Nazis, barbed wire, or cruel depravations, war is brutal. It is a machine and the soldiers are cogs that must run to keep up with it, or be spit out the other side. Morals, justice, and friendships have no place here--only the apathetic bureaucracy and political alignments matter and the soldiers are simply the tools being used.
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Life was a skin; It could be peeled away like strips of wallpaper with its coherent pattern. The soil wasn't that deep. A shell gored it and there was a rock beneath. Plants burned, uprooted. It could all be scraped off easily.
That was what it was like in battle: Things happened very far away or lethally close.