Death Squad is even better than the series' opening salvo, War Against the Mafia. Suspenseful, action-packed, and meaningful in showing how a band of brothers answer a comrade's call to come together for a common cause.
The story also shows the rootlessness and restlessness of Vietnam vets. I enjoyed the recruitment scenes when Mack Bolan is rounding up old friends and finding so many of them idling and dissipating. These men returned from 'Nam and failed to find a foothold in the world. Pendleton includes a commentary on this situation in a scene where one cop laments how the talents of Bolan and his Death Squad are being wasted: "Think of what they could, with those brains and energies, if they--"
"What could they do?" Lyons asked, quietly interrupting. "I mean, really, what could they do? They became men in a different sort of world--entirely different." (135)
Scholars of the Vietnam War will probably overlook The Executioner novels, which is unfortunate because they boast insights and a valuable perspective on the returning vet.
But lest one think the novel is a tract on the plight of soldiers coming home, it's anything but. The action is unrelenting. Pendleton deftly switches scenes between Bolan and his ten-man Death Squad plotting their attacks, the cops planning their strategy, and the mobsters plotting theirs. For the reader, knowing what all three parties are planning to do heightens the suspense to where it's difficult not to flip a few pages ahead to assure oneself all turns out well.
Pendleton is writing men's adventure fiction, but that doesn't mean it's just mindless violence piled upon carnage and conflagrations. He exceeds expectations for characterization. Sgt. Carl Lyons, for example, is well defined. We see him as the professional cop at work, but also as the harried husband grocery shopping and worried his wife will be angry if he forgot something, and as the loving Dad to his young son Tommy. Pendleton provides the reader just enough to make him three-dimensional and a character worth caring about.
Captain "Big Tim" Braddock, head of the special squash-Bolan Hardcase task force, is drawn a little more sketchily, but we get sufficient glimpses of him to know he's a good guy committed to upholding the law. When Bolan's Blackfoot Indian comrade Tom "Bloodbrother" Loudelk infiltrates Police HQ unbeknownst to the powers that be, Braddock calls him "sir." Bad cop Rickert reveals his toxic prejudice when he calls out his captain, "That's twentieth century, eh? Saying 'sir' to a wetback?"
"That's right," Braddock replied through tight lips. "A citizen is a citizen, and every one of them rates a 'sir' in this building--until they're booked, anyway. And he wasn't a wetback. I'd say Cherokee or Navajo. That's about as citizen as you can get." (107)
Just this short exchange reveals a lot about the characters. That Pendleton does it so deftly and imperceptibly, weaving it seamlessly into the narrative, is a testimony to his talent.
The outcome of the climactic scene was not wholly unexpected, but nonetheless proved moving. And if Bolan's grand escape and deus ex machina appearance stretched credulity at the end, it was just too cool to quibble over. I thoroughly enjoyed this book forst line to last. It sets the bar high for all the Pendleton-penned Bolan adventures to come.