One of the really great things about the ease of self-publishing today is the plethora of personal memoirs of WW II and Vietnam veterans (not so many from the Korean War, oddly) that have appeared recently. Some of these approach the status of literature, others are more like the stories told by your grandfather to his children and grandchildren. Either way, they are extraordinarily valuable, providing insight into the experiences and feelings of young people (for most were barely out of their teens) facing truly difficult circumstances.
Weinstein’s brief book fits the second category and often the snippets feel a bit disorganized and rambling. But would you criticize your grandfather for that in the midst of an enthralling story? I didn’t think so.
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