Fifteen Days

Full disclosure: I'm a big fan of Christie Blatchford's writing. So it was with high expectations that I recently picked up Fifteen Days, her newest book. As you might expect from the cover photo, it's about Canadian soldiers in Afghanistan, and their families back home. Or, more accurately, about Christie's impressions of those soldiers and families.

Some might find that personal perspective unwelcome, but I'm not one of them, as regular readers will already know. Here at The Torch, we tell readers up front that we're pro-Canadian Forces, and expect them to read our pieces with that in mind. Blatchford, to her credit, doesn't pretend to be an unbiased observer: she admits her sympathies lie with the average soldier, which is a far more honest option as I see it.

The book's style mimics her column's, with each chapter standing on its own. Although Blatchford's title implies that each would follow the events of one of fifteen particular days in the field, the truth is that she simply uses the events of one day as the central reference point around which she spins each tale. The result is a series of stories that are focused on soldiers in the field, but layered heavily with the perspectives of their families and colleagues back home. Each of the almost stand-alone chapters could have been a separate long-form column in a Saturday edition of the Globe & Mail.

All of that to say that if you like Christie's everyday writing, you'll love this book, since it simply allows her to put more meat on the bones of her stories.

Her friend Rosie DiManno's review says much of what I'd like to, but says it better than I could:

The framework of this book might be "Fifteen Days" – focusing on events key and representative – yet the exposition is more sweeping, infused with context, texture and candour.

Christie adores her men in uniform, that's always been apparent. But what's not to love about these guys? Stereotypes are quickly demolished. They're not dumb jarheads, if anybody still thinks that. They're bright and professional. They're thoughtful, kind and funny.

Blatchford's praise of the soldiers she meets isn't without the odd dart, though. For example, her impressions of BGen Fraser, the commander of RC South during the events described in her book are distinctly unfavourable. Her description of his speech to the Patricias upon their return to Edmonton after their rotation is particularly damning:

Fraser spoke at greater length, but I stopped taking notes when I realized that he was actually going to keep his back to the fighting troops - assembled behind him - the entire time, and indeed he did. Every soldier I have spoken to about this day had noted it, and taken offence: Whatever Fraser had to say was lost forever when he gave the soldiers his back.

(I think it's worthwhile to note that Christie confines herself to criticism of his demeanour, rather than taking on a subject beyond her ken - like his tactical decision-making.)

Likewise, my overwhelming praise for her work also has its limits. Much as she brilliantly pays tribute to the fallen - who damned well deserve our everlasting respect and admiration - I found myself wishing more of her stories revolved around the living rather than the dead. While it's difficult indeed to give too much credit to those Canadians who made the ultimate sacrifice in service to their nation, there's far more to the soldiers' experience than the remembrance of those who didn't come home.

I know I've put that rather awkwardly, but what I'm trying to say is that I wish Canadians knew as much about Jess Larochelle as they do about Bob Girouard. There's nobody like Blatchford to tell those stories, and I can't help but feel a touch disappointed that she didn't take the opportunity to wring a few more smiles and a few less tears from me. Because the tears came easily enough.

I also found myself aching for some of the X's and O's of the events described - maps and arrows that showed just what the troops were trying to accomplish in each of the stories of fierce and deadly combat. But I quickly realized that hope was an unreasonable one: this book isn't a campaign history, it's a selection of personal snapshots, an emotional collage. One day I hope to read a campaign history of Canada's experience in Kandahar, but this book was never intended to be that history.

Two chapters in the book stand out in my mind: 14 July 2006, which is about Gunner Janie Duguay and a symbolic ride on a motorbike; and 11 November 2006, which is about the first Remembrance Day after the Patricias returned home.

The first of those is the only chapter in the book that felt like filler to me. We learn of Duguay's ride on a captured Talib's motorbike, and of her commander Ian Hope's words to that prisoner: "That [a woman doing what was reserved for a man] is the future of Afghanistan." Other than describing a brief teachable moment, the two-page chapter is thin gruel indeed. We don't even learn much about Duguay herself, which surprised the hell out of me, coming from Blatchford. Better to have called the book Fourteen Days and left this one out, I'd say.

The other notable chapter was the polar opposite to me: the one story that really sums up what this book is about, that distills the essence of this fine brotherhood that fought in Afghanistan. It follows small groups of soldiers as they travel to the homes of their fallen comrades to remember them on November 11th. Blatchford conveys the raw emotion of these very personal acts of remembrance with an accuracy that leaves the reader profoundly moved. One line in particular stands out, one line that had me laughing through the tears:

"So we did what you do in Newfoundland. We pretended everything was okay, had some laughs, drank lots of booze, then we all cried together. Then we laughed some more at what a bunch of pansies we were." - Willy Macdonald, on Remembrance Day in Burgeo, Vaughan Ingram's hometown

I've long thought that Blatchford's great gift, when it comes to writing about the military, is to make the soldiers real to her audience. I would submit that one of the underlying reasons Canadians allowed our military to wander blindly through decades of creeping neglect is that as a society, we had lost touch with our soldiers. There was a time, decades ago, in Canada when everyone knew a soldier, or knew someone who had fought, and more recently, there was a time when almost nobody did.

Christie has helped the average Canadian get to know their uniformed servants once again. And once you know them, it's awfully difficult not to like and respect them; being in the presence of Canadian troops is a tonic to the soul.

For that reason alone, I'd encourage you to buy and read Christie Blatchford's wonderful book: the magic of her words brings you into the presence of our soldiers, and leaves you thankful for the experience.