The Apostle

I don't know exactly how we got to this state of affairs, but it seems a few publishers have decided that when it comes to books with a Canadian military connection, I'm worth the postage for a review copy. While I'm not about to object, I've now got a couple on my bedside table with bindings that haven't even been cracked yet.

Until now, all the books I've publicly assessed have been non-fiction - for all the obvious reasons. Of course, some might say I read enough fiction in the newspapers...but I digress. That's why it was something of a surprise to receive a copy of Brad Thor's new thriller The Apostle in the mail recently. It's an American book by an American author. But it's set in Afghanistan, and it involves not only a significant Canadian character, but also the portrayal of Canadian troops. And, truth be told, I'm not enough of a literary snob to be beyond the Tom Clancy, Dale Brown, Larry Bond, Robert Ludlum genre if it's well written.

While I wouldn't quite put Thor in that category, I will say The Apostle was a fun read. The main character, former U.S. Navy SEAL and counterterrorism operative Scot Harvath, is competent and compassionate, but he's a fairly standard construct for the genre. More interesting to me were the secondary characters, especially Horvath's sidekicks in Afghanistan, Hoyt and Gallagher. Hoyt is former U.S. Army intelligence, and has married a Chinese national in Kabul, with whom he trades off-colour banter. Gallagher is a troubled Marine who now does contract security work.

They all razz each other mercilessly. That sort of stuff in a military-themed book makes me smile, because it's true to life. Case in point: when a buddy of mine in uniform heard I was headed to Afghanistan myself this past January, the first thing he said to me was "Hey, if you get whacked, do you have any cool shit you can leave to me?" That sort of a sense of humour is often what it takes to stay on an even keel over there, and it's a mark in the author's favour that he portrays that.

One of the other secondary characters is a Canuck named Daniel Fontaine. He's ex-PPCLI, ex-JTF2, and now supposedly a private security contractor. Harvath doesn't believe him:

The Canadians were a smart bunch when it came to gathering their intel. Harvath's guess was that Fontaine worked for the Canadian Intelligence Security Service and was in Afghanistan to gather intel for the Canadian military operating within the country under NATO command. His ISS job was just a cover.

Fontaine was a handsome, six-foot-one man with dark hair who was used to commanding most of the attention from Mei's girlfriends, as well as any other female visitors who came to the ISS compound.

If Fontaine wasn't working protection on one of the ISS security contracts, he spent most of his evenings out partying with the Western ex-pat community. And what Gallagher and Hoyt referred to as "partying," Harvath saw as most likely developing relationships with non-Canadian nationals and gathering intel.

(By the way, I'm not going to nitpick Thor - he's not a journalist with a professional responsibility to dot all his i's and cross all his t's. Most of his details fit, but if you noticed, his "Canadian Intelligence Security Service" has all the right letters, just in the wrong order. Likewise, at one point later someone gets medevac'd to Bagram when in reality they likely would have gone to the Role 3 medical facility at KAF. But like I said, I'm not going to nitpick...)

At one point, Fontaine's relationship with his former PPCLI brethren makes a difference in the plot, and it's interesting to see how the author talks about the CF: tough, competent, and professional.

Whether West fully believed Harvath was beside the point. Wiping out seventy-plus Taliban fighters and helping to weaken a local Taliban commander was a good thing, regardless of who got the credit for it. Taking out forty or fifty more would only run up the score and make for a much better night. West only wished his men could help.

Understanding that he couldn't roll his armored column right through Dagar and that even if he could, he'd have considerable difficulty actually getting his men to the final objective, Captain Chris West proved that he and the Canadians were true partners in the international war on terror by offering Harvath anything else he needed.

Thor's narrative through the thoughts of his protagonist Harvath is unapologetically pro-military, pro-security, pro-"rough men ready to do violence." In fact, the author's political views seem to shine through in the book's unlikely sub-plot, which involves bringing down a charismatic newly-elected president who has a shaky grasp on national security and has lied under oath about an affair and a young female political assistant. I found this passage particularly interesting:

President Alden, though, was of a different mind. The winds of change had blown him into office and because of that he believed he had been given a mandate. The hawks had flown high above the American political landscape for eight years; now the doves had taken flight. The American people had spoken. That was democracy and Harvath both understood and respected it, but America wouldn't make its enemies disappear just by putting someone new in the Oval Office. The republic would always need its sheepdogs, no matter which way the political winds blew. [my emphasis]

Perhaps it wasn't intentional, but that line sounds like it was inspired by retired U.S. Army Lieutenant Colonel Dave Grossman's On Combat. For those who haven't read it, this passage in particular explains the reference:

One Vietnam veteran, an old retired colonel, once said this to me:

"Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident." This is true. Remember, the murder rate is six per 100,000 per year, and the aggravated assault rate is four per 1,000 per year. What this means is that the vast majority of Americans are not inclined to hurt one another. Some estimates say that two million Americans are victims of violent crimes every year, a tragic, staggering number, perhaps an all-time record rate of violent crime. But there are almost 300 million Americans, which means that the odds of being a victim of violent crime is considerably less than one in a hundred on any given year. Furthermore, since many violent crimes are committed by repeat offenders, the actual number of violent citizens is considerably less than two million.

Thus there is a paradox, and we must grasp both ends of the situation: We may well be in the most violent times in history, but violence is still remarkably rare. This is because most citizens are kind, decent people who are not capable of hurting each other, except by accident or under extreme provocation. They are sheep.

I mean nothing negative by calling them sheep. To me it is like the pretty, blue robin's egg. Inside it is soft and gooey but someday it will grow into something wonderful. But the egg cannot survive without its hard blue shell. Police officers, soldiers, and other warriors are like that shell, and someday the civilization they protect will grow into something wonderful.? For now, though, they need warriors to protect them from the predators.

"Then there are the wolves," the old war veteran said, "and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy." Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? You better believe it. There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial.

"Then there are sheepdogs," he went on, "and I'm a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf."

If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen, a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath, a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? What do you have then? A sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the hero's path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed.

The Apostle celebrates the sheepdogs. And in what is something of a rarity for a New York Times bestselling author, the celebration includes not only non-American sheepdogs, but specifically Canadian ones.

As a long-time reader of this genre, all I can say is: it's about time.