The Pacific: Better Than Band of Brothers?

The miniseries you never knew was there. Based on memoirs.

Three men. One, a courageous man whose actions in battle still echo across time.

One, who never should have even wanted to go to a war, but did anyway, and almost paid for it with his soul.

And another, whose bravery should have become legend like the first man, who yet survived to return home. And then daring to become something far better than his dreams, the imaginings of a lonely man, covered in mud and filth, writing letters he never meant to send to a woman he barely knew. And was now a world away.

The characters are real: Robert Leckie, Eugene B. Sledge, John Basilone.

During the Second World War, the story of the United States Marines gets overlooked in these days of short attention spans and lack of meaningful education in these United States.

History teachers have to stick with increasingly bare outlines lacking much text within. To get anything more, one must rely on websites or, more preferably, books collecting dust at a local library.

The usual case with the United States is a shameful one. All veterans of war and veterans in general are looked at with uncaring eyes, treated with a heart-rending lack of respect or the slightest bit of gratitude. They are our heroes, the men and women who served us in war and in peace, earning little pay, getting little in return, sometimes not even V.A. benefits. It is very dishonorable, the treatment they get.

One might think it was not always like this. But whatever you read or hear about any war you randomly pick, yes, it was always like this.

An argument can be made that returning veterans of the Vietnam War got the treatment they deserved, but as bad as that was, thanks to politicians and the media, perhaps it’s not as isolated as the observer sees it. Truth is, the Vietnam vet was every bit as brave and as faithful as any other man or woman who served in war times. The 1960s weren’t kind to service veterans, and I’m truly ashamed of that. But it has happened to veterans after every war. It always will. World War Two was no different.

The Pacific, executive-produced by Hanks and Spielberg, who did Band of Brothers, is the first of two companion series for the landmark 2001 series. The next just aired on Apple TV and was centered on the war fought in the skies over Europe. Since I haven’t the means to access the series, I’ll skip it. Besides, the critics didn’t like as much, and that’s fine with me.

In the first episode, we see the men, two going off to war, one saying goodbye to his best friend but unable to go because of a heart murmur. In episode two, we see Pfc. Bob Leckie and Gny Sgt. John Basilone on Guadalcanal, in the fight for an airfield, taking on a ceaseless charge of Japanese infantry. Basilone mans a .30 Browning machine gun, the early model with a water-cooled barrel. The jackets on these outdated weapons became searingly hot, and in more than one case, the Japanese managed to hit these water chambers and cause the barrels to overheat. But even with the water jacket intact, the weapon was an amazing piece of equipment. It could be fired constantly, and a 3-man crew feeding the ammo contained on cloth belts and assisting in calling shots and clearing jams were highly effective.

Henderson Field was of strategic importance to both sides, and the Marines were not about to give it up. To get to the field, the Japanese infantry had to cross water, which caused them to slow down and bottleneck to just such a degree that these machine guns tore them apart: on the night of 21 August 1942, the First Marines held a position on the bank. One three-man crew consisted of assistant gunner Albert Schmid. At one point, the gunner was killed by the surging Japanese, and Schmid took his position. He fired continually even after the water jacket was hit, and his gun’s barrel glowed like steel under a cutting torch. Knowing that meant utilizing short instead of long bursts of fire, and despite being wounded by a grenade, and being blinded as well, Schmid stayed at the gun, reloading and firing it by himself at first, then with assistance. What he did that night was and is legendary, worthy of a Homerian epic. He made Herakles look like a boy.

When the attacks ceased, two hundred enemy lay dead in front of him. Only one survivor escaped without a wound; the rest of the survivors suffered various injuries. It’s on the record that the Japanese commander killed himself for his dishonor.

John Basilone, another member of First Marines, had to move his machine gun, and with the heat of the barrel, he received 3rd degree burns on his hands and arms, because he had to cradle the barrel. He was credited with 83 confirmed kills, but he didn’t stop there. He shot several enemies while running, an extraordinary feat. He also ran for ammo and even dodged hostile fire to pull down a pile of bodies consisting of enemy KIA. It was his time to be a hero, an inspiration to his comrades, a hero who would go down in history as a Medal of Honor recipient. Col. Chesty Puller awarded the medal, which comes from the Commander in Chief, the US President, not Congress. There is not, nor has there ever been, any such thing as “the congressional medal of honor”. It is the Medal of Honor, period.

In Episode three, we see the troops, weary and filthy, docking in Melbourne to a wharf lined with cheering people, streamers, and pomp. Leckie begins a romance only to be dumped because she gets attached and is sure she will be heartbroken when he never comes back. But Leckie, despite a drinking binge and being broken in rank, recovers and continues to write letters to Vera, the girl who lived across the street while they both grew up.

Eugene Sledge finally enters training after his father, a doctor, tells him that the murmur is gone. But his father treated returning WWI veterans, and he tells his son that it wasn’t the physical wounds he treated that haunts him to this day. It was that look in their eyes, he says with a soft southern drawl, “…what I saw was that their souls had been lost. I couldn’t bear to look at you and see no spark in your eyes. That would break my heart.”

Stop. Because I really have to say, I wish I’d had a father like him.

In the 5th episode, Eugene gets a typical rude reception by veterans when he joins them. One of them, known as Snafu, plays a prank, a fairly mean yet mild one, on the new arrivals, but in the next episode, he starts to coach the new guys, although harshly. Sledge sees him prying gold off the teeth of a dead Japanese soldier, casually explaining that gold is thirty dollars an ounce. Taken aback, Pfc Eugene Sledge says nothing. In the next episode, Leckie returns to action after a hospital stay for enuresis, or, a problem with urinary incontinence. He’s hit by shrapnel while assaulting an enemy airfield on Peleliu, another in the island hopping campaign that never made sense to me. Its point was to save casualties by skipping over islands that could be bypassed without giving up strategic targets that mattered more. In gaining air superiority, islands with airfields were necessary targets. We concentrated on those. Had anyone in high command known what Peleliu would coast, they would have skipped that hellish place, too. It was here that “Gunny,” a WWI veteran, who was part of the Old Guard and an inspiration to the men, finally broke. He later told Sledge, “Ain’t never seen nothing like that. That was horrible. I’m ready to hang it up after that.” This scene is from Eugene’s book, and it isn’t shown. But we do see the thousand-yard stare, the trembling, the loss of humanity he has suffered. And, as I’ve seen that look with my own eyes, I can tell that it’s both heartbreaking and terrifying to see.

While charging against withering fire across the airfield, Snafu falls, disoriented and unable to get up. Eugene grabs him, and they make it to cover. It’s the beginning of a bond that will be mutually beneficial. As the unfeeling Snafu is an inspiration to Eugene afterward to lose his own humanity, Snafu will eventually pull himself back to humanity by being around Sledge. While on a route march, Snafu asks Eugene if he’s got a smoke. He gets one and says, “Thanks, Sledgehammer.” His new nickname.

Episode 8 sees John Basilone return to duty. He’s tired of Jane Grey and room service. He gets permission to train recruits and, meanwhile, falls in love with and marries Lena. He ships out to lead his men on Iwo but is killed the first day.

Next is Okinawa. A taste of what an invasion of Japan would be like?

Not even close. But it is a terrible ordeal. I’m not going any further than to say that this episode (9) is where Eugene gives up his humanity and even attacks a Japanese POW. He’s threatened with court-martial but seethes. It is only at the end when he’s faced with a cruel choice that he manages to make a very moving decision and emerges reunited with his soul. Of course, Snafu has a part in it, seeing Sledgehammer becoming like himself and intervening.

I found episode 10 to be a very moving conclusion to the series. Unlike Band of Brothers, we get to see some good, some sad, and utterly heartbreaking outcomes as they all return home.

We don’t get to see Snafu being met at the train station; he vanishes into the crowd with his dufflebag. We see Lena Basilone visit John’s parents, giving his father John’s Medal of Honor. Then Bob Leckie, who seems to adjust quickly, asks Vera for a date. He tells her about the letters he wrote, but she tells him that she never got them. He tells her he didn’t mail them because he didn’t think he would make it. She asks if she can read them now, and he says they didn’t survive the weather, but she presses him. “What were they like?”

“Best stuff I ever wrote,” he says, and it’s magic. They’re falling in love.

Eugene does not fare as well. His father hears him mumbling his nightmares out loud at night, and in a very poignant scene, he takes a seat outside of the door. He silently weeps for his boy.

He tries to take Gene dove hunting, but Eugene just can’t even nanage carrying the rifle. A few paces behind his father, he breaks down, dropping the rifle and falling to his knees, sobbing. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” he says. His father bends and puts his arms around him and softly says, “You don’t have to apologize to me,”

Eugene can’t work. He’s hurt, and he knows it. He does try to apply for college. This is what happened:

Although it’s said that the series lost money, it has a cult status today thanks to reaction videos. It maintains its historic accuracy and is often much more moving than any other depiction of the war in other motion pictures I’ve seen. Currently still available on HBO/Max, this is something everyone should see.

Is it really on any par with Band of Brothers?

I leave the answer to you. But it’s  worthy of a look. Whether you’re a first-time watcher or not doesn’t matter. Go ahead and watch it again.

As for myself? I love both of these series, but I have a bit of bias toward The Pacific. It’s darker than Band, with a grotesqueness that made me laugh, cry, and everything in between. The weapons, vehicles, uniforms, everything is here. I believe that there’s no need to compare Band with Pacific, but this series has the home front depicted, and to me, that’s a plus. You get where these guys are coming from.

An honorable mention goes out to William Sadler for his portrayal of Chesty Puller, a hero and still one of the most decorated Marines in history. The actors did an amazing job of convincing me that I was witnessing actual history.

Note: This is what I’ve been doing lately, watching TV and reading, just trying to keep my mind busy. I haven’t anything new to report about my health, so there’s no reason to bring it up except that whatever happens, it’s fine. I’ll be okay. As always,  thanks for stopping in, and may God bless.