Member Reviews
Nicole O, Reviewer
(I received a copy of this book through NetGalley and the publisher in exchange for an honest & original review.)
I don't know if it's the current state of the world mixing with my love of history, but Samantha Bresnahan's account of valor and forgiveness across generations gave me chills. Reading it gave me hope.
When you read accounts of wars, maybe especially World War II, it's easy to discount 'I was following orders' as a flimsy excuse. It's easy to see the sorts of propaganda that say one race, one faith, one nationality is lesser (and as such more dangerous) than another and leave it at that.
It's not always easy to see that the world wars were fought by young men who were, in fact, following orders and who did, in fact, follow those orders in part because they were told that theirs was an enemy worth fighting - and sometimes it was enough to say 'we fight for freedom' and sometimes they were told they were fighting against monster-like armies intent on violently destroying their mothers, their wives, their children.
And after the war, they had to live with it - often alone with little to no help.
So when the men like Marty Connor came to see the 'souvenirs' they'd collected in the Pacific both as gruesome reminders of an awful time and as things they'd want their families to have it'd been them who died and had their bodies looted, it became a powerful connection as they started returning the items to Japan.
The people Bresnahan highlights in this account; Marty Connor, Tsunezo Wachi, Masataka Shiokawa... they are the sorts of people who give humanity it's name. And it's hope.
Bresnahan honors them, their part in the war, and the part in the world after beautifully. And in doing so, tells a story the world needs to hear because there are lessons about ourselves to be found in it.
