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The Last True Story I'll Ever Tell: An Accidental Soldier's Account of the War in Iraq
The only book about the war in Iraq by a soldier on the ground-destined to become a classic of war literature. John Crawford joined the Florida National Guard to pay for his college tuition-it had seemed a small sacrifice to give up one weekend a month and two weeks a year in exchange for a free education. But one semester short of graduating, and newly married, he was called to active duty-to serve in Kuwait, then on the front lines of the invasion of Iraq, and ultimately in Baghdad. While serving in Iraq, Crawford began writing short nonfiction stories, his account of what he and his fellow soldiers experienced in the war. At the urging of a journalist embedded with his unit, he began sending his pieces out of the country via an anonymous Internet e-mail account. In a voice at once raw and immediate, Crawford's work vividly chronicles the daily life of a young soldier in Iraq-the excitement, the horror, the anger, the tedium, the fear, the camaraderie. All together, the stories slowly uncover something more: the transformation of a group of young college students-innocents-into something entirely different. In the tradition of Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried, this haunting and powerful, brutal but compellingly honest book promises to become the lasting, personal literary account of the United States' involvement in Iraq.
219 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2005
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1702 people want to read
About the author
John Crawford
119 books9 followersSPC John Crawford is an American Iraq War veteran and writer originally from Palatka, Florida known for his bestselling memoir The Last True Story I'll Ever Tell, about his tour in Iraq.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 258 reviews
June 7, 2013
I have read The Last True Story I'll Ever Tell more than once and rather enjoyed and recognized portions of it. There is a great deal disparate opinion regarding this book and to some extent I'd say deservedly so. John Crawford was a young man who had previously served and in fact had been in the 101st Airborne Division. He did know what he was doing when he joined the Florida National Guard; with that in mind the portion of the title: " An Accidental Soldier's Account of the War in Iraq" is a bit disingenuous. There are things that take place that would definitely be considered dereliction of duty and would at the least lead to a well-deserved Article 15.
Much of the behavior of the soldiers is attributed to the classic triumvirate miseries of life in wartime: physical discomfort, battle stress and crushing boredom. Crawford is an able conduit for the way that this effects the men including himself. I strongly sympathize with much of what recounts, however as an intelligent and experienced soldier he fails to probe his own actions as deeply as he might have.
The loneliness, isolation and deprivation of warfare can make combatants selfless or selfish, can hone them to a sharp edge or dull the edge of duty. It seems that a failure of both leadership and individual initiative seems to permeate the unit. By it's very nature occupation duty is unpleasant and the soldiers in The Last True Story I'll Ever Tell seemed poorly suited to dealing with its caprices.
As a bright person, nearly having completed an Anthropology degree, it would have been interesting to see Crawford reflect more on the continuing of conflict and in which he was embroiled at the site of one of the cradles of civilization. He is largely incurious about the Iraqi people. Now there's a natural effect of distancing from the populace that is necessary as a soldier when dealing with a possibly hostile body of civilians. Additionally there can be a great price to be paid for any of the locals who are to friendly to the Americans. Wahlee a local business owner is thought of as an ally by some but is abused by a patrol that didn't know him and Leena who may have met with reprisals be her family or community do to seeming to friendly to the Americans.
I did enjoy this book but I found myself wondering if a truly great book was hidden beneath its surface.
Much of the behavior of the soldiers is attributed to the classic triumvirate miseries of life in wartime: physical discomfort, battle stress and crushing boredom. Crawford is an able conduit for the way that this effects the men including himself. I strongly sympathize with much of what recounts, however as an intelligent and experienced soldier he fails to probe his own actions as deeply as he might have.
The loneliness, isolation and deprivation of warfare can make combatants selfless or selfish, can hone them to a sharp edge or dull the edge of duty. It seems that a failure of both leadership and individual initiative seems to permeate the unit. By it's very nature occupation duty is unpleasant and the soldiers in The Last True Story I'll Ever Tell seemed poorly suited to dealing with its caprices.
As a bright person, nearly having completed an Anthropology degree, it would have been interesting to see Crawford reflect more on the continuing of conflict and in which he was embroiled at the site of one of the cradles of civilization. He is largely incurious about the Iraqi people. Now there's a natural effect of distancing from the populace that is necessary as a soldier when dealing with a possibly hostile body of civilians. Additionally there can be a great price to be paid for any of the locals who are to friendly to the Americans. Wahlee a local business owner is thought of as an ally by some but is abused by a patrol that didn't know him and Leena who may have met with reprisals be her family or community do to seeming to friendly to the Americans.
I did enjoy this book but I found myself wondering if a truly great book was hidden beneath its surface.
September 3, 2011
While I was reading the preface of this book, this was my exact thought: “Wow, this guy is pissed off. This is going to be good.”
I wasn’t wrong. This book is good. It is also gut-churning, heart-wrenching, and devastating. I was riveted. I could hardly put it down. Crawford was clearly very angry when he wrote it, and I don’t blame him. He joined the National Guard to earn money for college. He never expected to be sent to fight a war overseas (and in my opinion he never should have been; that’s not the intent of the National Guard). He received his orders for deployment while he was on his honeymoon, two credits shy of graduating college and less than a year from the end of his Guard contract. He ended up stuck in Iraq for more than a year.
Yeah, I’d be pretty angry too.
Luckily for us, the anger he felt led him to write in a clear, strong, and honest voice. This is no book about the glories of the war. Crawford is brutal in his honesty, even though the picture it paints doesn’t make him or his fellow soldiers look particularly good. There’s drug and alcohol abuse, plenty of stupid decisions, and a shockingly callous attitude toward the plight of the Iraqi people. You would think that this would make you end up hating these men, but I never felt that way. Crawford is such a deft writer that I totally understood where these men were coming from, why they would feel the way they did and why they acted that way.
This is an ugly book, and yet, in its ugliness, there’s exquisite beauty.
In general, I’m not particularly inclined to include warnings for books. You should know what you’re getting into when you read the description on the jacket. But I think this one warrants a few:
1. There is A LOT of swearing in this book. These are soldiers, people. Expect a lot of F-bombs.
2. There is some very, very graphic violence in this book. Be advised that if I’m warning you of this, it’s pretty bad.
3. This book does not have a happy ending. I can only hope that Crawford’s life has improved greatly since he wrote the epilogue.
I wasn’t wrong. This book is good. It is also gut-churning, heart-wrenching, and devastating. I was riveted. I could hardly put it down. Crawford was clearly very angry when he wrote it, and I don’t blame him. He joined the National Guard to earn money for college. He never expected to be sent to fight a war overseas (and in my opinion he never should have been; that’s not the intent of the National Guard). He received his orders for deployment while he was on his honeymoon, two credits shy of graduating college and less than a year from the end of his Guard contract. He ended up stuck in Iraq for more than a year.
Yeah, I’d be pretty angry too.
Luckily for us, the anger he felt led him to write in a clear, strong, and honest voice. This is no book about the glories of the war. Crawford is brutal in his honesty, even though the picture it paints doesn’t make him or his fellow soldiers look particularly good. There’s drug and alcohol abuse, plenty of stupid decisions, and a shockingly callous attitude toward the plight of the Iraqi people. You would think that this would make you end up hating these men, but I never felt that way. Crawford is such a deft writer that I totally understood where these men were coming from, why they would feel the way they did and why they acted that way.
This is an ugly book, and yet, in its ugliness, there’s exquisite beauty.
In general, I’m not particularly inclined to include warnings for books. You should know what you’re getting into when you read the description on the jacket. But I think this one warrants a few:
1. There is A LOT of swearing in this book. These are soldiers, people. Expect a lot of F-bombs.
2. There is some very, very graphic violence in this book. Be advised that if I’m warning you of this, it’s pretty bad.
3. This book does not have a happy ending. I can only hope that Crawford’s life has improved greatly since he wrote the epilogue.
February 3, 2013
If you ever for some reason stumble upon this review in the endless stream of comments to come. Thank you John Crawford for writing about your experience. I have friends that have served in the military and come back different (most of them not in a good way). I never pester them with questions about their experience because (as you put it well in your own words) I get the strong feeling that they are asked too often and telling true stories about horrible things that happened is not as fun as non-war storytelling.
To the wondering reader (should I read this?), I would say if you want a perspective into a typical soldier's experience in Baghdad than yes absolutely. There is minimal interjection of his political standpoint on war (not to say it's completely absent). It is not a work of fiction that is eloquently fabricated with intentional use of the English language and literary terms. In fact sometimes it is closer to the opposite, and by that I mean the dialogue-- even the narration at times-- is directly what you would get from the mouths of secular men in the Army (i.e. profane). If choice four letter words bug you, don't read this. If you want an elaborate, glorified war story, don't read this.
If you want a plain and simple peek into the daily life of a soldier in the Iraq war, read this.
To the wondering reader (should I read this?), I would say if you want a perspective into a typical soldier's experience in Baghdad than yes absolutely. There is minimal interjection of his political standpoint on war (not to say it's completely absent). It is not a work of fiction that is eloquently fabricated with intentional use of the English language and literary terms. In fact sometimes it is closer to the opposite, and by that I mean the dialogue-- even the narration at times-- is directly what you would get from the mouths of secular men in the Army (i.e. profane). If choice four letter words bug you, don't read this. If you want an elaborate, glorified war story, don't read this.
If you want a plain and simple peek into the daily life of a soldier in the Iraq war, read this.
January 11, 2008
John Crawford was newly married when his National Guard unit was shipped to Baghdad in time for the first wave of invasions in the most recent U.S. project against Iraq. As a member of the National Guard, he should have only been overseas for a couple of months. Instead, Crawford fought for over a year before being sent home. This book tells some of the things he experienced while stationed in Baghdad.
Crawford took his title from the fact that he never wants to tell another true story because they are too depressing and messed up. When he eventually did come home, no one understood what he had been through; he didn’t want to let them in on it. This is not a happy book: it is graphic, disturbing, and angry. But it is a necessary commentary on the recent steps of the United States. If you are anti-war, this book will help you feel justified. If you are pro-war (at least pro-this one), this book will not change your mind. But it will make you think.
Crawford took his title from the fact that he never wants to tell another true story because they are too depressing and messed up. When he eventually did come home, no one understood what he had been through; he didn’t want to let them in on it. This is not a happy book: it is graphic, disturbing, and angry. But it is a necessary commentary on the recent steps of the United States. If you are anti-war, this book will help you feel justified. If you are pro-war (at least pro-this one), this book will not change your mind. But it will make you think.
April 14, 2012
A collection of possibly quasi-fictive vignettes and memories of the author’s tour patrolling the streets of Baghdad for over a year. He’s an extremely bitter man, and I was struck by how entitled and selfish he paints himself, how little empathy he shows. Even the subtitle, “an accidental soldier,” is misleading: he wasn’t drafted, he signed up for the National Guard. If he didn’t think that made him a soldier, he’s an idiot.
But throughout the book, his behavior and attitudes are shocking. He knows and cares nothing for the culture, history or people of Iraq: this from an anthropology major (one who was, he informs the reader several times, “just two credits away from graduation,” as if that made a difference). His stories are straight out of Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket: these are not patriotic soldiers, or even devil-may-care kids out for violence and glory. They’re drug-taking, food-stealing, rule-breaking, apathetic clowns. Crawford’s stories condemn him again and again: he steals food from Iraqi refugee packets; he steals an Iraqi’s motorbike; he flirts with Iraqi women, getting one possibly thrown into the street as a whore; he befriends but does not protect a loyal Iraqi shopkeeper; he watches with glee a small boy about to be beaten by a gang. In short, he depicts himself as a truly terrible person, which makes his stories of incompetence, clueless superiors, and failure throughout the Army less credible and less moving.
But throughout the book, his behavior and attitudes are shocking. He knows and cares nothing for the culture, history or people of Iraq: this from an anthropology major (one who was, he informs the reader several times, “just two credits away from graduation,” as if that made a difference). His stories are straight out of Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket: these are not patriotic soldiers, or even devil-may-care kids out for violence and glory. They’re drug-taking, food-stealing, rule-breaking, apathetic clowns. Crawford’s stories condemn him again and again: he steals food from Iraqi refugee packets; he steals an Iraqi’s motorbike; he flirts with Iraqi women, getting one possibly thrown into the street as a whore; he befriends but does not protect a loyal Iraqi shopkeeper; he watches with glee a small boy about to be beaten by a gang. In short, he depicts himself as a truly terrible person, which makes his stories of incompetence, clueless superiors, and failure throughout the Army less credible and less moving.
June 23, 2009
I could see where Crawford might have been in a writing class and someone said, "Hey, you're writing about your experiences as a soldier in war? Here, read this-" and hands him a copy of Tim O'Brian's The Things They Carried. While the title of Crawford's book and his final chapter are strongly reminiscent of O'Brian's essay "How to Tell a True War Story," it lacks the artistry, the finesse, the ironic tone of O'Brian's work. Crawford is, to put it bluntly (and in his own words): "pissed off."
"You guys don't want to hear a war story. None of them make any fucking sense" (203) - these sentiments are not the only thing similar to "How to Tell a True War Story", so is the construction of the last chapter, as Crawford takes the reader with him to a seafood festival back home, showing the colorful characters who inhabit his North Florida hometown, and then after telling a harrowing story of shooting a young boy, WAKES UP (yes, you read that correctly) to discover that he's still back in Iraq and life is hell. It felt like a piece that was strongly worked over in writing class.
I wondered about the organization of this book - specifically, the title chapter ("The Last True Story I'll Ever Tell") was the last chapter, before the epilogue) and might have opened the book better than the way it currently opens.
The Last True Story... reads more like a diary - it's almost uniformly angry in tone and the acronyms used by the author are not explained. Places and terms are dropped onto the page; it's up to the reader to define them.
Something that I thought was interesting was the way Crawford reacts to people with Arabic appearances when he returns. He does not deny his irrational anger towards them. In one instance, he walks into a convenience store and immediately leaves when he sees that the proprietor is Arabic; in another moment, later in the book, he states "...every Arabic-looking person I saw gave me a funny feeling of anger inside..." (173).
While he is specific regarding the various indignities and dangers of serving in Iraq, he is far more vague when discussing his bride and what transpired between them (or with her) that left him alone and scrounging for food and shelter when he returned to the states. I suppose, though, the reader can create her own story.
There is nothing positive within the pages - no redemption, no happy endings for anyone, no upside.
"You guys don't want to hear a war story. None of them make any fucking sense" (203) - these sentiments are not the only thing similar to "How to Tell a True War Story", so is the construction of the last chapter, as Crawford takes the reader with him to a seafood festival back home, showing the colorful characters who inhabit his North Florida hometown, and then after telling a harrowing story of shooting a young boy, WAKES UP (yes, you read that correctly) to discover that he's still back in Iraq and life is hell. It felt like a piece that was strongly worked over in writing class.
I wondered about the organization of this book - specifically, the title chapter ("The Last True Story I'll Ever Tell") was the last chapter, before the epilogue) and might have opened the book better than the way it currently opens.
The Last True Story... reads more like a diary - it's almost uniformly angry in tone and the acronyms used by the author are not explained. Places and terms are dropped onto the page; it's up to the reader to define them.
Something that I thought was interesting was the way Crawford reacts to people with Arabic appearances when he returns. He does not deny his irrational anger towards them. In one instance, he walks into a convenience store and immediately leaves when he sees that the proprietor is Arabic; in another moment, later in the book, he states "...every Arabic-looking person I saw gave me a funny feeling of anger inside..." (173).
While he is specific regarding the various indignities and dangers of serving in Iraq, he is far more vague when discussing his bride and what transpired between them (or with her) that left him alone and scrounging for food and shelter when he returned to the states. I suppose, though, the reader can create her own story.
There is nothing positive within the pages - no redemption, no happy endings for anyone, no upside.
April 6, 2007
A heartbreakingly true account of a soldier's life in the current Iraq war. The author was a National Guardsman who expected to do the "two weeks a year" thing until he was called up to do security detail in Baghda; hence the "accidental soldier" of the title. The horrors he witnessed and the agony and fear he had to endure will be familiar to anyone who reads the paper, but his attention to detail and his pulse-pounding anecdotes bring his tale home. Ultimately, a damning anti-war tale without a happy ending.
February 8, 2018
This review is written on 18 February 2006 without having read any of the other reviews. I want to offer an opinion without being influenced by other readers. I won't be as insightful or thoughtful as they, as I am writing in a hurry, preparing to leave for Iraq myself in three days (but as a contractor), and -- full disclosure -- having just retired after 36 years in the US Army.
First, I salute John Crawford for having served in the Infantry and facing daily dangers in direct combat, neither of which I can say about myself, all my career a support weenie.
But Crawford couldn't be described as more debased if his worst enemy wrote this book. Consider some of the things he tells us about himself:
-- While pulling guard duty as a Reservist on night shift in Tallahassee, he and a friend "would sit inside a large army tent and play video games all night." A court martial offense.
-- For months, an Iraqi shopkeeper named Whalee risked his life giving Crawford and his friends a place to rest and get out of the sun. Crawford liked and respected him. Then: "Because of rotating schedules, not every soldier in the company got to know him. While we [Crawford's squad] were out patrolling the north sector, an American [an American? Why does he refer to a fellow soldier as "an American?"] in our company told him to come out of the store. Angry that he was being treated like a run-of-the-mill Iraqi, Whalee refused. After a heated argument, his head was crashed through the same window that he had once shot looters from." Why didn't Crawford give some thought to taking care of Whalee, leaving him a written endorsement to offer to other GIs patrolling the street? Why no expression of regret for the friend's unhappy end?
-- "We brought him [Whalee] pornography and he would slip us whiskey." Not just another court martial offense, but the height of poor judgment on so many counts.
I could go on, but what's the point. When Crawford tells us, with no apparent shame, about gorging on donated chocolate chip cookies intended for Iraqi refugee children, that he seeks out a young Iraqi woman, though he is married and what he is doing is obviously against both regulations and common sense (and later costs the young woman her home, maybe her life), we regret this callow young man ever wore a US Army uniform.
Crawford blames much of his disgust with the war, the Army, and the Iraqis on his being brought to Iraq as a Reservist, and kept there months after regular Army units went home. In return, he feels justified in cursing and insulting the Iraqi people to their face (so much for winning hearts and minds), slacking off in his military duties, using tiresome profanity to puff up his manhood, and in copping an attitude of "poor me."
I say again: I have not walked in his shoes. I never walked patrol in the streets of Baghdad.
But Crawford insults the honor of the many who did, and who did it while upholding Army values, as he emphatically did not.
First, I salute John Crawford for having served in the Infantry and facing daily dangers in direct combat, neither of which I can say about myself, all my career a support weenie.
But Crawford couldn't be described as more debased if his worst enemy wrote this book. Consider some of the things he tells us about himself:
-- While pulling guard duty as a Reservist on night shift in Tallahassee, he and a friend "would sit inside a large army tent and play video games all night." A court martial offense.
-- For months, an Iraqi shopkeeper named Whalee risked his life giving Crawford and his friends a place to rest and get out of the sun. Crawford liked and respected him. Then: "Because of rotating schedules, not every soldier in the company got to know him. While we [Crawford's squad] were out patrolling the north sector, an American [an American? Why does he refer to a fellow soldier as "an American?"] in our company told him to come out of the store. Angry that he was being treated like a run-of-the-mill Iraqi, Whalee refused. After a heated argument, his head was crashed through the same window that he had once shot looters from." Why didn't Crawford give some thought to taking care of Whalee, leaving him a written endorsement to offer to other GIs patrolling the street? Why no expression of regret for the friend's unhappy end?
-- "We brought him [Whalee] pornography and he would slip us whiskey." Not just another court martial offense, but the height of poor judgment on so many counts.
I could go on, but what's the point. When Crawford tells us, with no apparent shame, about gorging on donated chocolate chip cookies intended for Iraqi refugee children, that he seeks out a young Iraqi woman, though he is married and what he is doing is obviously against both regulations and common sense (and later costs the young woman her home, maybe her life), we regret this callow young man ever wore a US Army uniform.
Crawford blames much of his disgust with the war, the Army, and the Iraqis on his being brought to Iraq as a Reservist, and kept there months after regular Army units went home. In return, he feels justified in cursing and insulting the Iraqi people to their face (so much for winning hearts and minds), slacking off in his military duties, using tiresome profanity to puff up his manhood, and in copping an attitude of "poor me."
I say again: I have not walked in his shoes. I never walked patrol in the streets of Baghdad.
But Crawford insults the honor of the many who did, and who did it while upholding Army values, as he emphatically did not.
May 15, 2014
I really thought I would like this book. I really wanted to like this book. I had a really hard time actually finishing this book. I actually made myself finish it because I kept thinking "Surely at some point, it will be good." I generally enjoy personal memoirs, especially those who have been through something life-changing, such as going to war. Not this book! Firstly I disliked the overall negativity that permeated this book. Yes - I can understand some of his negative emotions towards the events that unfold, but I felt like he was mostly just complaining and people were paying to read him complain. I tried very hard to empathize with the author, but found it very hard considering his attitude and his actions during many of the events described in the book. His actions were often very irresponsible, dangerous and just plain stupid. So it was really hard to feel anything for him (except maybe a little disgust) and, therefore, very difficult to enjoy his memoir. Additionally, I felt that the "story" was too jumbled and didn't really flow. The memoir is just bits and pieces of his memories strung together as he chooses and I never felt like there was any rhyme or reason to what he included and how it was arranged. Definitely not a book I would recommend to anyone.
August 11, 2014
At the author states, "you know it is true because it turns your stomach." This is not a book about heroism and valor, it isn't about the people capturing Sadam or killing Bin Laden. It is a book about the reality of war from the perspective of those entrenched in it. While experiences differ, Crawford's experience was that of a person that was on the ground for over a year and really didn't see that our presence was making much of a difference. This, more than likely, shades his opinion and his stories. It is a very interesting book and I am glad that I listened to it.
August 31, 2013
The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell is a book of eighteen short stories about a young man from a small town in northeast Florida who fought the war in Iraq starting with the invasion to topple Saddam Hussein in 2003. The book was published in 2005 when many of us were just beginning to realize that this “war” might go on for some time. Young Americans who had come as warriors had become occupiers.
John Crawford is twenty-five and angry. He thought he had made a small commitment to the Florida National Guard in exchange for a free college education. Turns out he was wrong about “small.”
I have to remind myself that most of the people dying in the wars of my lifetime are young men in their twenties. When I was in my early twenties I was married and had a son. John was married and in Iraq carrying a gun. Big difference.
Crawford describes the type of men in the infantry.
I am among the uninitiated to war. What I know is from what I have read in books. I know mostly about Vietnam. That was my war, the one I didn’t go to the other side of the world to fight and die.
You could consider the book a F.A.Q. on Iraq.
Did you have Iraqi friends?
Talk about one of your assignments.
As your time in Iraq lengthened, what were you thinking?
Are you sure that this book is nonfiction? The title, The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell, made me wonder if the eighteen stories are true. Author John Crawford seems to answer that directly in the last paragraph.
While I was never there, I would say that this is a realistic view of what it was like in Iraq in 2003-04. It captures plenty of boredom and horror. Enough to make anyone glad to have never been there.
John Crawford doesn’t spend too much time writing about his experience when he came home from Iraq but he tells you enough to know that it was not pleasant: end of marriage, alcohol, serial housing evictions. Are there books about men who have been to war and happily look back upon their experience?
We are now watching the warring factions in Egypt and Syria and wondering “when will we ever learn”? We can all say, “We have not learned yet” and many say, “We never will.” This is a four star book that is the effort of one person to say, “War is not the answer!”
Here is the dedication at the front of the book:
John Crawford is twenty-five and angry. He thought he had made a small commitment to the Florida National Guard in exchange for a free college education. Turns out he was wrong about “small.”
I awoke every time it was my turn and I crossed the threshold of our perimeter into the city streets, wondering if my luck would run out as it had for my good friend when he emptied his brains into his Kevlar helmet on the side of a shit-infested street on the banks of the Tigris River.
I have to remind myself that most of the people dying in the wars of my lifetime are young men in their twenties. When I was in my early twenties I was married and had a son. John was married and in Iraq carrying a gun. Big difference.
Crawford describes the type of men in the infantry.
The infantry picks the man: men who do poorly in math, excel in athletics, drink a lot, love their mothers, fear their fathers; men who have something to prove or feel they have already proven it all. We were both proud and ashamed of what we were. The stepchildren of the army, infantrymen are like guard dogs at a rich man’s house. When people come to visit, the media, the USO, they lock us in the garage and tell us not to bark, but when the night falls and there is a noise outside, everyone is glad we’re there.
I am among the uninitiated to war. What I know is from what I have read in books. I know mostly about Vietnam. That was my war, the one I didn’t go to the other side of the world to fight and die.
You could consider the book a F.A.Q. on Iraq.
Did you have Iraqi friends?
Cum was only nine or ten years old, and his clothes hung loosely off of emaciated shoulders and arms. His hair was matted and dirty and in need of being cut. Yellow teeth broke up the gaps in his mouth. He was altogether a pitiful sight. . . . The kid was legitimately homeless. There was no rosy future in a capitalist Iraq for Cum; he was at the bottom of the world and everyone around him knew it.
. . .
Cum spoke virtually no English when we met, and even at the end, he could communicate only in a few broken phrases whose meaning was always unclear. . . . Our one-sided conversations made the days go faster. I would tell him about fishing in the St. Johns River with my father when I was his age, and he would tell me whatever it was he told me. Either way, he loved the company, and I guess I didn’t mind it too much either. Before long he was working for me. I’d give him money to go get us both lunch, and off he would scamper.
. . .
Before long, he had been adopted by the rest of the squad, too. . . . He was a good kid, but it took a while to realize how attached he had become to us. . . .
[Of course, the story does not have a happy ending.]
Talk about one of your assignments.
During the blistering summer of Bagdad, Alpha Company was tasked out with an additional duty. In the western edge of our sector was the old Ministry of Labor. It was a gutted six-story office building that recalled George Orwell’s 1984. The darkened offices and hallway were cluttered with all kinds of paperwork spilling out of pregnant file cabinets. Family photographs torn from the walls by looters lay on the ground like discarded baseball cards. Anything worth anything had been stolen, and what wasn’t had been destroyed for childish pleasure.
In the lot adjacent to the MOL was an old chemical plant that was suspected in the much-vaunted hunt for weapons of mass destruction. When the unit that had been there pulled out, we had to provide a presence to keep a semblance of order and of course safeguard the stockpiles of sarin gas that we were sure were buried just beneath the surface.
I’m not sure that there was any real priority to the chemical plant, as I never heard of any inspectors visiting the site, but occasionally the news cameras and visiting politicians would stop by to get footage of Iraq’s abandoned chemical machinery.
Important as our presence was, one thing is true about war: There is always more work than there are soldiers. Only two squads at a time were sent to the MOL. For one week, those eighteen soldiers would live in absolute squalor. Soldiers in combat can be absolutely disgusting, and the fact that we all at one time or another had minor bouts is dysentery didn’t help. The building was full of rotting feces. Piles of it, along with MRAE toilet paper, littered the floor. The heat had turned the building into an oven, and the smell was overpowering.
As your time in Iraq lengthened, what were you thinking?
While the occasional sniper fire from across the river did keep us honest, for the most part OP 1 was a dull way to spend the evening. It did allow for a lot of introspective thought, but when your life has turned to complete shit, you don’t really want to spend too much time thinking about it. Even the constant pondering about our homecoming had died out. We were never going home.
. . .
We knew what an AK-47 bullet sounds like when it zips unseen by our heads. We had heard the deafening blast of 155-millimeter rounds exploding near us. We knew the screams of the wounded and dying, and had seen the tears of men, of soldiers. I watched as we de-evolved into animals, and all this time there was a sinking feeling that we were changing from hunter to hunted.
Are you sure that this book is nonfiction? The title, The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell, made me wonder if the eighteen stories are true. Author John Crawford seems to answer that directly in the last paragraph.
This is a true story. You can tell because it makes your stomach turn. I am home now, and I will never again write a true story.
While I was never there, I would say that this is a realistic view of what it was like in Iraq in 2003-04. It captures plenty of boredom and horror. Enough to make anyone glad to have never been there.
John Crawford doesn’t spend too much time writing about his experience when he came home from Iraq but he tells you enough to know that it was not pleasant: end of marriage, alcohol, serial housing evictions. Are there books about men who have been to war and happily look back upon their experience?
Now, all I can say for sure is that I am no longer a college student, no longer illusioned by new love, and I don’t feel young anymore. My quiet optimism has been replaced by something darker, a kind of hatred – of what, I cannot even grasp or imagine.
. . .
I put out my cigarette and lit another one, sucking in a deep breath of poison, holding it, then letting it go. I couldn’t and wouldn’t tell him what was really going on. None of us talked about stuff like that. And as Bagdad slept beneath me, I tried to believe my own lies.
. . .
I went to the gas station yesterday to buy some cigarettes. An Arabic man was working behind the counter. He turned when he heard the door chime and gave me a broad smile. I walked out. I never wanted to hate anyone; it just sort of happens that way in a war.
We are now watching the warring factions in Egypt and Syria and wondering “when will we ever learn”? We can all say, “We have not learned yet” and many say, “We never will.” This is a four star book that is the effort of one person to say, “War is not the answer!”
Here is the dedication at the front of the book:
To the soldiers who, having scouted ahead,
stand alone knocking the dust from their boots
and waiting patiently for their comrades.
January 19, 2014
It hit me hard, this story of John Crawford's military posting in Iraq with the Florida National Guard. My own son happened to be in the Florida National Guard, joining in order to get his college education like John Crawford did, just a couple of years after John. At one point he was short-listed to be sent to either Iraq or Afghanistan, I forget which. He managed to slide out of that one and after reading John's story I can't tell you how glad I am of that. But you know, I do know other people who have been soldiers in Iraq and they came back in much better shape than John. It has to be such a personal thing, how one responds to being in a war zone and killing people and seeing friends killed. It didn't help that a 3 to 6 month posting turned into something like a year and a half, or that the country was a brutal, sewage filled hellhole filled with people who hate Americans. John Crawford lost his marriage during his tour or shortly thereafter, he had become addicted to Valium while in Iraq, he was sleeping on friend's couches when he returned. Active duty pay should have been pretty good but I guess that wasn't what John was lacking when he got back. I was really sad for him and can only hope he is doing better now.
January 7, 2010
A friend, Sean Coutain, gave me this book a couple years ago, and I didn't read it then because I was just back from Iraq and not interested. I finally picked it up last week and flew through it.
Crawford's experience was much different than mine. In part, because he was there at the start--it was the wild west and living conditions were at their most primitive. I had expected this book to be an indictment of the Iraq War, and maybe that's even what Crawford intended. Instead, however, I found it to be a gripping story told from the POV and in the salty vernacular of a lower enlisted soldier in the Florida National Guard. Unfortunately, the book confirms all negative things active duty soldiers have always believed about the National Guard. However, the problems don't stem from soldier quality; they stem from gutless leadership.
Crawford's world appears to be devoid of leadership. We enter his world after he is fully disillusioned, drug addled, and angry, and things only get worse from there.
Crawford's experience was much different than mine. In part, because he was there at the start--it was the wild west and living conditions were at their most primitive. I had expected this book to be an indictment of the Iraq War, and maybe that's even what Crawford intended. Instead, however, I found it to be a gripping story told from the POV and in the salty vernacular of a lower enlisted soldier in the Florida National Guard. Unfortunately, the book confirms all negative things active duty soldiers have always believed about the National Guard. However, the problems don't stem from soldier quality; they stem from gutless leadership.
Crawford's world appears to be devoid of leadership. We enter his world after he is fully disillusioned, drug addled, and angry, and things only get worse from there.
October 5, 2009
A poorly written collection of unrelated and pointless stories about a soldier's experiences in the War in Iraq. Maybe that's the point, that the war is random and pointless and we'll all be glad when it's over. (just like I was with this book. :)
December 7, 2017
Very good captivating story. Crawford outlines his time as a national guardsmen in iraq for a year in very descriptive detail that moves the book along smoothly.
January 10, 2022
author is kind of like Tucker Max in a warzone... except not as funny...
September 23, 2024
True story about the Iraq war told by a US soldier who saw and did it all. As you can imagine, not a book for the faint hearted. But sometimes the story has to be told. I enjoyed the straightforward way this was written with no punches pulled.
September 11, 2022
“Cold and miserable as we were, comfort was found in torturing the poor souls whom we came across.”
—Page 178, paperback, first full sentence.
What might I say? This mindset permeates the book, his experience in Baghdad, and his life, it seems. Why should I rebuttal something so purely horrible? So purely wrong? So purely evil?
Here’s what I can tell you: This is very much a book about day-to-day operations in Iraq rather than a memoir about experiencing a major event during the war.
I won’t comment on the writing or the structure (other reviewers already have), as the importance of all that dims in comparison to the troubling content of this memoir. War is ugly. It brings out the worst in humanity. But there have always been good soldiers, who handled the inhumane situation with respect and reticence, and bad soldiers, like John Crawford.
What I can tell you is that, essentially, the boy was bored, angry, subpar at his duties, and hateful towards all. He erratically drags us through it with him. It seems like he was involved in a few difficult, fervid events, but mostly he just kicked around a lot of dirt.
The only thing worthy of commentary is simply that the author has an absolute lack of morals and humanity. He borders on sociopathic. Though, I wonder, did he write in such a callous manner because he thought it made him look tough? Was he trying to be hard in front of his fellow soldiers, knowing they might read it? His friends? The world? Is this just a young boy’s ego trip? Who knows, who cares. He published it and put it out into the world as his truth, so here we are.
What we discover about this “soldier” is that he was drug addicted, hopeless, helpless, lying, inadequate, cheating, and egotistical. A total bottom-of-the-barrel type of man (boy? er, whatever).
Here’s a few quotes from John Crawford himself to provide clarity to my admonishment:
“You know I’d kill every man, woman, and child in Baghdad if it got me home twenty minutes earlier.”
“I lived for any excuse to deliver violence on them.” (He’s talking about civilian Iraqis here whom he acknowledges he is supposed to help liberate.)
When speaking to a mentally incapacitated child who clung to him while he was patrolling: “F*cking retarded and living in Iraq. What could be worse than that? God must really hate you, little girl.”
He tries to cheat on his wife, and in the process likely gets a young woman beaten and raped, if not murdered entirely. We don’t fully know the outcome because John doesn’t care enough to find out. He discovers her house has been torn apart after her male cousin finds out she’s been speaking with John regularly for a few weeks. After finding her home torn apart, John simply shrugs and gets back to kicking dirt.
Along with her, though, a young homeless boy of only 8 or 9 years old also goes missing. The young woman John flirted with took care of this homeless boy. This sweet homeless boy, who John earlier tells us that he looked forward to watching him get beat and bullied by older kids because it gave him some entertainment during his patrols. John tells us the little boys eyes “begged for help” but John just chuckles at the situation and says, “For all I cared, they could have the kid. I didn’t give a shit what happened to any of them.”
The boy called the girl his “big sister” and, according to John, he was very proud of her. And it was this homeless boys admiration of the big, “tough” John that got them both hurt. The homeless boy hung around John, seeking inclusion, purpose, and protection from the neighborhood bullies. He goes missing on the same day she does, John never mentions them again. Or seems to care.
It’s been almost two decades since John wrote all this. And John, I hope you’ve gotten bored one night and decided to browse through reviews of your memoir on Goodreads. And I hope you come across this because it is of the upmost importance that you know that when you wrote that you came home and your wife left you, and you ended up homeless, and you shook from drug withdrawal, and you drank yourself stupid, and you slept on couches, and you felt useless and worthless and minuscule, my heart soared with glee. You deserved every iota of pain and misery that you’ve ever experienced in your life. I hope you know that I seethe with crooked glee at the thought of your suffering, just like you did to those poor Iraqis who, unlike you, didn’t deserve it. See ya in hell, buddy. ;)
—Page 178, paperback, first full sentence.
What might I say? This mindset permeates the book, his experience in Baghdad, and his life, it seems. Why should I rebuttal something so purely horrible? So purely wrong? So purely evil?
Here’s what I can tell you: This is very much a book about day-to-day operations in Iraq rather than a memoir about experiencing a major event during the war.
I won’t comment on the writing or the structure (other reviewers already have), as the importance of all that dims in comparison to the troubling content of this memoir. War is ugly. It brings out the worst in humanity. But there have always been good soldiers, who handled the inhumane situation with respect and reticence, and bad soldiers, like John Crawford.
What I can tell you is that, essentially, the boy was bored, angry, subpar at his duties, and hateful towards all. He erratically drags us through it with him. It seems like he was involved in a few difficult, fervid events, but mostly he just kicked around a lot of dirt.
The only thing worthy of commentary is simply that the author has an absolute lack of morals and humanity. He borders on sociopathic. Though, I wonder, did he write in such a callous manner because he thought it made him look tough? Was he trying to be hard in front of his fellow soldiers, knowing they might read it? His friends? The world? Is this just a young boy’s ego trip? Who knows, who cares. He published it and put it out into the world as his truth, so here we are.
What we discover about this “soldier” is that he was drug addicted, hopeless, helpless, lying, inadequate, cheating, and egotistical. A total bottom-of-the-barrel type of man (boy? er, whatever).
Here’s a few quotes from John Crawford himself to provide clarity to my admonishment:
“You know I’d kill every man, woman, and child in Baghdad if it got me home twenty minutes earlier.”
“I lived for any excuse to deliver violence on them.” (He’s talking about civilian Iraqis here whom he acknowledges he is supposed to help liberate.)
When speaking to a mentally incapacitated child who clung to him while he was patrolling: “F*cking retarded and living in Iraq. What could be worse than that? God must really hate you, little girl.”
He tries to cheat on his wife, and in the process likely gets a young woman beaten and raped, if not murdered entirely. We don’t fully know the outcome because John doesn’t care enough to find out. He discovers her house has been torn apart after her male cousin finds out she’s been speaking with John regularly for a few weeks. After finding her home torn apart, John simply shrugs and gets back to kicking dirt.
Along with her, though, a young homeless boy of only 8 or 9 years old also goes missing. The young woman John flirted with took care of this homeless boy. This sweet homeless boy, who John earlier tells us that he looked forward to watching him get beat and bullied by older kids because it gave him some entertainment during his patrols. John tells us the little boys eyes “begged for help” but John just chuckles at the situation and says, “For all I cared, they could have the kid. I didn’t give a shit what happened to any of them.”
The boy called the girl his “big sister” and, according to John, he was very proud of her. And it was this homeless boys admiration of the big, “tough” John that got them both hurt. The homeless boy hung around John, seeking inclusion, purpose, and protection from the neighborhood bullies. He goes missing on the same day she does, John never mentions them again. Or seems to care.
It’s been almost two decades since John wrote all this. And John, I hope you’ve gotten bored one night and decided to browse through reviews of your memoir on Goodreads. And I hope you come across this because it is of the upmost importance that you know that when you wrote that you came home and your wife left you, and you ended up homeless, and you shook from drug withdrawal, and you drank yourself stupid, and you slept on couches, and you felt useless and worthless and minuscule, my heart soared with glee. You deserved every iota of pain and misery that you’ve ever experienced in your life. I hope you know that I seethe with crooked glee at the thought of your suffering, just like you did to those poor Iraqis who, unlike you, didn’t deserve it. See ya in hell, buddy. ;)
July 19, 2019
"You've been extended...Any questions?"
Somebody once said that war consists of long stretches of utter boredom punctuated with moments of sheer terror. John Crawford's engaging and haunting memoir is a testament to the truth of that adage. Here he is on what it feels like to patrol the streets of Baghdad:
"We were riding a crest of hatred two thousand years old in a storm that no one who hasn't experienced it can understand. We knew what an AK-47 bullet sounds like when it zips unseen by our heads. We had heard the deafening blast of 155-millimeter rounds exploding near us. We knew the screams of the wounded and dying, and had seen the tears of men, of soldiers. I watched as we de-evolved into animals, and all this time there as a sinking feeling that we were changing from hunter to hunted." (p. 119)
Specialist Crawford's memoir is also a testament to the waste of war, the stupidity of war and in particular the stupidity of the Bush administration's harebrained invasion and occupation of Iraq. Guess what a good chunk of Crawford's time was spent doing. Guarding a gas station in Baghdad. Irony? Yes, and guess how he felt about the "hajjis" and how they felt about him.
Don't bother. He got no flowers handed out to him by the "liberated." This wasn't the Champes Elysees in 1944. The boys didn't shout and the girls didn't turn out. And when Johnny did come marching home again there were no victory parades. In fact, it appears that Crawford's young bride told him that "things would have been better off if...[he] had just never come home." Despondent and alone, Crawford writes, "In reality, I agree with her." (p. 219)
The blinding sandstorms, the 130-degree heat in full combat gear, the filth and stench, the constant fear of being targeted by a sniper or blown up by an IED, the hatred in the eyes of the Iraqi people, the substandard, "Vietnam era" equipment, the incompetent leadership, the sheer lack of discernable purpose--all of this and more is what gnawed at Crawford's soul as he and his buddies from the Florida National Guard did their time for God and country--well, for something.
Why does this seem like Vietnam all over again? Crawford writes, "We were both proud and ashamed of what we were. The stepchildren of the army, infantrymen are like guard dogs at a rich man's house. When people come to visit, the media, the USO, they lock us in the garage and tell us not to bark, but when night falls and there is a noise outside, everyone is glad we're there." (p. 65)
Crawford lets us see the Iraqi people as he saw them on the streets, in the shops: the little kids begging and crawling on him, the diseased refuges with their gaunt, desperate faces, the girls with their flirty eyes, the men with their consummate hatred, the landscape of poverty and desolation, of excrement in the streets and the blinding sun. He writes:
"Occasionally, a young woman would pass by in her school-girl uniform and dare a slight smile, prompting catcalls. Most times they enjoyed the attention and would wink back or smile broadly, as long as there weren't any men near them. The language of sex is the same in every country." (p. 88)
So this is a young man's view of war. It is somehow a lyrical tale, strung out in vignettes of color, short stories about his buds and the hajjis, preciously written in a style both ordinary and poetic. I think Crawford had a splendid editor. I also think he is a talented writer. This is a good and disturbing read.
And I think he got it right. It WILL be like Vietnam all over again. It already is. Eventually the troops will come home, another thousand or so dead, another ten thousand maimed and wounded, screwed up for life; and then the Iraqis will get back to doing what they do, which I guess is killing each other until somebody's in charge, and everything will be just as it would have been if we had left yesterday or the day before--or never arrived.
--Dennis Littrell, author of the mystery novel, “Teddy and Teri”
Somebody once said that war consists of long stretches of utter boredom punctuated with moments of sheer terror. John Crawford's engaging and haunting memoir is a testament to the truth of that adage. Here he is on what it feels like to patrol the streets of Baghdad:
"We were riding a crest of hatred two thousand years old in a storm that no one who hasn't experienced it can understand. We knew what an AK-47 bullet sounds like when it zips unseen by our heads. We had heard the deafening blast of 155-millimeter rounds exploding near us. We knew the screams of the wounded and dying, and had seen the tears of men, of soldiers. I watched as we de-evolved into animals, and all this time there as a sinking feeling that we were changing from hunter to hunted." (p. 119)
Specialist Crawford's memoir is also a testament to the waste of war, the stupidity of war and in particular the stupidity of the Bush administration's harebrained invasion and occupation of Iraq. Guess what a good chunk of Crawford's time was spent doing. Guarding a gas station in Baghdad. Irony? Yes, and guess how he felt about the "hajjis" and how they felt about him.
Don't bother. He got no flowers handed out to him by the "liberated." This wasn't the Champes Elysees in 1944. The boys didn't shout and the girls didn't turn out. And when Johnny did come marching home again there were no victory parades. In fact, it appears that Crawford's young bride told him that "things would have been better off if...[he] had just never come home." Despondent and alone, Crawford writes, "In reality, I agree with her." (p. 219)
The blinding sandstorms, the 130-degree heat in full combat gear, the filth and stench, the constant fear of being targeted by a sniper or blown up by an IED, the hatred in the eyes of the Iraqi people, the substandard, "Vietnam era" equipment, the incompetent leadership, the sheer lack of discernable purpose--all of this and more is what gnawed at Crawford's soul as he and his buddies from the Florida National Guard did their time for God and country--well, for something.
Why does this seem like Vietnam all over again? Crawford writes, "We were both proud and ashamed of what we were. The stepchildren of the army, infantrymen are like guard dogs at a rich man's house. When people come to visit, the media, the USO, they lock us in the garage and tell us not to bark, but when night falls and there is a noise outside, everyone is glad we're there." (p. 65)
Crawford lets us see the Iraqi people as he saw them on the streets, in the shops: the little kids begging and crawling on him, the diseased refuges with their gaunt, desperate faces, the girls with their flirty eyes, the men with their consummate hatred, the landscape of poverty and desolation, of excrement in the streets and the blinding sun. He writes:
"Occasionally, a young woman would pass by in her school-girl uniform and dare a slight smile, prompting catcalls. Most times they enjoyed the attention and would wink back or smile broadly, as long as there weren't any men near them. The language of sex is the same in every country." (p. 88)
So this is a young man's view of war. It is somehow a lyrical tale, strung out in vignettes of color, short stories about his buds and the hajjis, preciously written in a style both ordinary and poetic. I think Crawford had a splendid editor. I also think he is a talented writer. This is a good and disturbing read.
And I think he got it right. It WILL be like Vietnam all over again. It already is. Eventually the troops will come home, another thousand or so dead, another ten thousand maimed and wounded, screwed up for life; and then the Iraqis will get back to doing what they do, which I guess is killing each other until somebody's in charge, and everything will be just as it would have been if we had left yesterday or the day before--or never arrived.
--Dennis Littrell, author of the mystery novel, “Teddy and Teri”
September 28, 2010
Book Review: The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell: An Accidental Soldier’s Account of the War in Iraq by John Crawford
“Hey Crawford, you got a piece of brain on your foot”. Florida National Guardsmen, John Crawford, was two credits away from graduation FSU. He was newly married and on his honeymoon when he was called to the front lines of the invasion force of Iraq. In between his patrols, he started writing stories about what happened to him and his squad. These stories became The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell: An Accidental Soldier’s Account of the War in Iraq. In this book review I will write why this book is worth five out of five stars because of its vivid portrayals of a squad in Iraq.
The book The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell: An Accidental Soldier’s Account of the War in Iraq draws the reader in with vivid descriptions of the Iraqi deserts, people, and patrols. In the book we see John Crawford changes from a somewhat innocent and relaxed college kid that wanted nothing to do with the war in Iraq, to a man who gets angry sometimes he sees a Middle Eastern person in America. He is changed through the events of the book one being “The one holding the rifle turned it towards me, it seemed so slow how he moved… They were silhouetted black against the sunset. The muzzle was almost on me… I applied pressure to the trigger. I don’t know if that was before or after I realized the rest of the rifle was missing. The trigger was gone as was the buttstock and bolt. Someone had killed a hajji there the day before and just ran over his rifle with their tract rendering it useless. That kid couldn’t have shot spitballs through ti even if he had wanted to.” (208) This change is evidenced in the quote “I rarely get into fights with people who I imagine are “eyeballing me” (219). Crawford also shows the reader vivid descriptions in “The wounded man lay in the fetal position, cradling his bloodied groin. The bullet had hit him on the head of his penis and run down his shaft. After it hit the pelvis, it curved around and exited though his testicle.” (120). This quote is interesting because Crawford had created a picture of a man after he had been shot in the penis.
I gave this book a five out of five because of its vivid portrayals of a squad in Iraq. These men whether they believe in the war is right or not, they still put their lives on the line in Iraq. I believe that this is an ultimate sacrifice that anyone can do for their country. John Crawford changed, that’s the simplest way to put it and that’s what war does to people, it changes them. He used to be a relaxed person and joined the National Guard so he could use their money to pay for college in exchange for two weeks a year. That is until he was called to do security details in Iraq (patrols). Through the book he is changed through the events of the book one being “He was looking at us, both eyes perfectly focused despite the fact that half his brain was all over the car. Just nevers, I thought. His nerves are popping and he’s already dead, like a snake after you cut of its head. But then his eyes shifted, first from me, then Pohl, then back to me.” (140). These kind of events that Crawford experienced will for sure change someone.
The book ends unceremoniously with Crawford recapping his life after the war. Overall the book was a great read and very engaging. Through its vivid portrayals of everyday life as a soldier in Iraq, John Crawford had written an unforgettable first hand encounter of Iraq and is a definite must read. I give The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell: An Accidental Soldier’s Account of the War in Iraq a five out of five stars.
“Hey Crawford, you got a piece of brain on your foot”. Florida National Guardsmen, John Crawford, was two credits away from graduation FSU. He was newly married and on his honeymoon when he was called to the front lines of the invasion force of Iraq. In between his patrols, he started writing stories about what happened to him and his squad. These stories became The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell: An Accidental Soldier’s Account of the War in Iraq. In this book review I will write why this book is worth five out of five stars because of its vivid portrayals of a squad in Iraq.
The book The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell: An Accidental Soldier’s Account of the War in Iraq draws the reader in with vivid descriptions of the Iraqi deserts, people, and patrols. In the book we see John Crawford changes from a somewhat innocent and relaxed college kid that wanted nothing to do with the war in Iraq, to a man who gets angry sometimes he sees a Middle Eastern person in America. He is changed through the events of the book one being “The one holding the rifle turned it towards me, it seemed so slow how he moved… They were silhouetted black against the sunset. The muzzle was almost on me… I applied pressure to the trigger. I don’t know if that was before or after I realized the rest of the rifle was missing. The trigger was gone as was the buttstock and bolt. Someone had killed a hajji there the day before and just ran over his rifle with their tract rendering it useless. That kid couldn’t have shot spitballs through ti even if he had wanted to.” (208) This change is evidenced in the quote “I rarely get into fights with people who I imagine are “eyeballing me” (219). Crawford also shows the reader vivid descriptions in “The wounded man lay in the fetal position, cradling his bloodied groin. The bullet had hit him on the head of his penis and run down his shaft. After it hit the pelvis, it curved around and exited though his testicle.” (120). This quote is interesting because Crawford had created a picture of a man after he had been shot in the penis.
I gave this book a five out of five because of its vivid portrayals of a squad in Iraq. These men whether they believe in the war is right or not, they still put their lives on the line in Iraq. I believe that this is an ultimate sacrifice that anyone can do for their country. John Crawford changed, that’s the simplest way to put it and that’s what war does to people, it changes them. He used to be a relaxed person and joined the National Guard so he could use their money to pay for college in exchange for two weeks a year. That is until he was called to do security details in Iraq (patrols). Through the book he is changed through the events of the book one being “He was looking at us, both eyes perfectly focused despite the fact that half his brain was all over the car. Just nevers, I thought. His nerves are popping and he’s already dead, like a snake after you cut of its head. But then his eyes shifted, first from me, then Pohl, then back to me.” (140). These kind of events that Crawford experienced will for sure change someone.
The book ends unceremoniously with Crawford recapping his life after the war. Overall the book was a great read and very engaging. Through its vivid portrayals of everyday life as a soldier in Iraq, John Crawford had written an unforgettable first hand encounter of Iraq and is a definite must read. I give The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell: An Accidental Soldier’s Account of the War in Iraq a five out of five stars.
Read
May 3, 2013The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell: An Accidental Soldier’s Account of the War in Iraq, by John Crawford, Narrated by Patrick Lawlor, Produced by Tantor Media, Downloaded from audible.com.
John Crawford joined the Florida National Guard to pay for his college tuition; it had seemed a small sacrifice to give up one weekend a month and two weeks a year in exchange for a free education. But one semester short of graduating, and newly married, he was called to active duty, to serve in Kuwait, then on the front lines of the invasion of Iraq, and ultimately in Baghdad. While serving in Iraq, Crawford began writing short nonfiction stories, his account of what he and his fellow soldiers experienced in the war. At the urging of a journalist embedded with his unit, he began sending his pieces out of the country via an anonymous Internet e-mail account. Crawford's work vividly chronicles the daily life of a young soldier in Iraq: the excitement, the horror, the anger,
the tedium, the fear, the camaraderie. Altogether, the stories slowly uncover something more: the transformation of a group of young college students,
innocents, into something entirely different. A sad reconstruction of a life change that left many Iraq war veterans, not only with physical injuries, but with disillusionment about the war itself and confusion about who we were there toprotect or save. An excellent book reminding me of some of the literature by Vietnam veterans after that war.
John Crawford joined the Florida National Guard to pay for his college tuition; it had seemed a small sacrifice to give up one weekend a month and two weeks a year in exchange for a free education. But one semester short of graduating, and newly married, he was called to active duty, to serve in Kuwait, then on the front lines of the invasion of Iraq, and ultimately in Baghdad. While serving in Iraq, Crawford began writing short nonfiction stories, his account of what he and his fellow soldiers experienced in the war. At the urging of a journalist embedded with his unit, he began sending his pieces out of the country via an anonymous Internet e-mail account. Crawford's work vividly chronicles the daily life of a young soldier in Iraq: the excitement, the horror, the anger,
the tedium, the fear, the camaraderie. Altogether, the stories slowly uncover something more: the transformation of a group of young college students,
innocents, into something entirely different. A sad reconstruction of a life change that left many Iraq war veterans, not only with physical injuries, but with disillusionment about the war itself and confusion about who we were there toprotect or save. An excellent book reminding me of some of the literature by Vietnam veterans after that war.
December 22, 2011
I know it’s a good book when I’m still thinking about it 10 days after I finished it. I was looking for brutal honesty and the raw emotional toll of war (not a factual history tome), and I got it in this book. Sometimes it was as much what WASN’T written as what was (the chapter near the end with the three young boys is a good example). That is a delicate balance for a writer and it was powerful. (Note: toning down the swear words and tightening up the sentence structure would have made it even more powerful by making it less distractive to read.)
I (like the author) joined the National Guard to help pay for college; the recruiters laughed off any suggestion that we’d actually be sent anywhere to fight. What do you expect an 18- or 20-year-old to believe? And when you are immersed in a culture, you tend to adopt that culture’s attitudes (especially when you’re young) – and the military IS a culture. I lost sight of some of the morals I’d been brought up with and I’d be willing to bet some of the author’s less tasteful characteristics may have been ‘exacerbated’ by this immersion too.
I would have liked to know more about who the author was before he went to war, and what happened when he returned home (perhaps that’s another book altogether?).
I (like the author) joined the National Guard to help pay for college; the recruiters laughed off any suggestion that we’d actually be sent anywhere to fight. What do you expect an 18- or 20-year-old to believe? And when you are immersed in a culture, you tend to adopt that culture’s attitudes (especially when you’re young) – and the military IS a culture. I lost sight of some of the morals I’d been brought up with and I’d be willing to bet some of the author’s less tasteful characteristics may have been ‘exacerbated’ by this immersion too.
I would have liked to know more about who the author was before he went to war, and what happened when he returned home (perhaps that’s another book altogether?).
April 10, 2014
The Last True Story I'll ever tell by John Crawford was a great book. This book is about a college kid who was also in the National Guard. Before John could finish college he was deployed to Iraq. In Iraq John writes and expresses how he feels. He learns that after telling his story he will never tell another one again. John being forced to go to Iraq made him a stronger person. Readers get to understand his experience a little better in Iraq and also see how he changes when he goes back home.
I liked everything about the book. It is really sad to see how much changes when you are gone for a long time. When John returns home he still watches and makes sure no one is going to attack. It is sad that the home you once had comfort in can also be one of your biggest problems. I cannot imagine being comfortable in a home and then coming back to it when it feels like it is in a city in Iraq. I think that John suffered from ptsd.
This book made me realize that someone always has it worse. I enjoyed the book a lot and every page was better then the last. If you are into a good true war story then you should read this book.
I liked everything about the book. It is really sad to see how much changes when you are gone for a long time. When John returns home he still watches and makes sure no one is going to attack. It is sad that the home you once had comfort in can also be one of your biggest problems. I cannot imagine being comfortable in a home and then coming back to it when it feels like it is in a city in Iraq. I think that John suffered from ptsd.
This book made me realize that someone always has it worse. I enjoyed the book a lot and every page was better then the last. If you are into a good true war story then you should read this book.
September 6, 2011
It is a well written series of stories and anecdotes of Crawford's time serving in the military. What really gets you about the book is his honest no bullshit assessment of the war, he isn't trying to demonize the military for ruining his life, or make him out to be a galavanting hero, he's just telling you stories, true stories, or if not true, at least ones that he believes. His stories aren't lost in military jargon, and are accessible whether this is your first military book or your 50th. The most difficult part about this read however is the fact that you know it doesn't have a happy ending, and that makes reading this book a little more like watching a car crash than anything else. Every time you finish a chapter you wonder are things just going to get worse from here, but every time you start the next one, you can't help but make it to the end. Crawford has talent as a writer and a storyteller, and while this may be the last true story he ever tells, I hope it's not the last story.
August 13, 2014
Crawford's account of his tour in Iraq is very different from Mark Owen's story about being a part of Seal Team 6. While the latter chooses a path and applies every ounce he has to fulfilling his dream, the former falls into war as a National Guard and endures an extended tour in a place he cannot stand.
Whether or not all of what Crawford tells is true, his tone is raw and sometimes angry. He doesn't hold back about little insurrections he and his fellow soldiers commit to relieve boredom or tension, the former seemingly rampant on patrols and sentry duties. Each chapter is a small story about a certain event or aspect of Crawford's tour, and collectively they describe an experience rife with frustration and moments of mortal danger. Reading this was sometimes like watching reality tv, where I wonder if people will actually commit the acts they suggest.
I looked up Crawford upon finishing his book, hoping to find out that he's doing ok. I still hope so.
Whether or not all of what Crawford tells is true, his tone is raw and sometimes angry. He doesn't hold back about little insurrections he and his fellow soldiers commit to relieve boredom or tension, the former seemingly rampant on patrols and sentry duties. Each chapter is a small story about a certain event or aspect of Crawford's tour, and collectively they describe an experience rife with frustration and moments of mortal danger. Reading this was sometimes like watching reality tv, where I wonder if people will actually commit the acts they suggest.
I looked up Crawford upon finishing his book, hoping to find out that he's doing ok. I still hope so.
March 19, 2009
I recently ended my Active Duty military career and I was flooded with so many different thoughts about this book and the experiences of its author/soldier. The overwhelming thoughts were how proud I am to have been associated, in even the slightest ways, with the folks who get the job done, and the shame that some leadership lost sight of whole mission to focus on their own glory.
John Crawford's story caught my attention from the first paragraph of the Prelude and wouldn't let it go until I closed the back cover several hours later. His journey was harsh and raw, but his words and descriptions are compelling and even eloquent. I really enjoyed this memoir.
John Crawford's story caught my attention from the first paragraph of the Prelude and wouldn't let it go until I closed the back cover several hours later. His journey was harsh and raw, but his words and descriptions are compelling and even eloquent. I really enjoyed this memoir.
February 14, 2012
Crawford was a member of the Florida National Guard and in The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell he documents his time in Iraq. The thing that most stood out to me was how much this book sounded like the Vietnam memoirs I read years ago. If you changed Iraq to Vietnam, desert to jungle, and valium to marijuana, this would almost pass as a book about Vietnam. If I was a better writer I would probably write something about how this shows some grand meaning about the face of war, but I’m not, so I won’t. Crawford tells a different story then any other I’ve read about Iraq; however this might be because of how little I’ve ventured into this area.
March 22, 2010
AMAZING! If anyone really wants to know and appreciate the American ground perspective of Iraq then I highly recommend this book. Warning: It is as raw, intense and honest as they come. Crawford also has a unique gift for putting his reader in his shoes without seeming contrived in the least. Any person responsible for any aspect of US foreign policy should be required to read this book, and quite frankly, any American voter.
October 16, 2015
I read this many years ago - I found it to be a brutally honest, and boots on the ground perspective of the quagmire that was the Iraq war. Unlike the headlines we were reading at the time, it added faces and names to the war and the impact it has on people. Having lived through the Lebanese civil war, it was refreshing to see someone articulate the experiences of those who live through it, and how they are perceived by the military.
November 19, 2010
I liked this one okay but it left a bit of an odd aftertaste in my mouth. I think maybe I was picking up on the author ambivalance toward his whole experience. Every man or woman's story of their military experience is valid and worth telling. It's important not just to read about the medal of honor winners but the regular soldiers too.
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