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Under Fire: Great Photographers and Writers in Vietnam
In Under Fire, one of the most daring combat photographers of the Vietnam War, Catherine Leroy, pairs her work and that of other acclaimed photographers-–among them Larry Burrows, Henri Huet, and Don McCullin–with moving, evocative essays from an equally stellar roster of writers, including David Halberstam, Philip Caputo, Neil Sheehan, and Tim O’Brien.
Captured in the collected photographs is the full emotional spectrum of war. Through the camera’s eye, we see the war from both the combatants’ perspective and that of the Vietnamese civilians, for whom the conflict was a constant and horrendous backdrop. Some of the photographs are well known, verging on the iconic, others are less well circulated but no less evocative. All make indelible impressions on the viewer–perhaps more so now than when they were taken, thirty to fifty years ago.
The essays accompanying the photographs tell us about what happened to the photos’ subjects, both when the shutter captured them and since; about the challenges facing the photographers in the heat of battle; and how, in some cases, the photographers changed history by bringing Vietnam’s senseless violence to ordinary Americans’ doorsteps, thereby helping turn public opinion against the war.
Published to coincide with the thirtieth anniversary of the fall of Saigon, Under Fire is a potent, often poignant reminder of the men and women whose work helped forge the collective memory of a generation.
Captured in the collected photographs is the full emotional spectrum of war. Through the camera’s eye, we see the war from both the combatants’ perspective and that of the Vietnamese civilians, for whom the conflict was a constant and horrendous backdrop. Some of the photographs are well known, verging on the iconic, others are less well circulated but no less evocative. All make indelible impressions on the viewer–perhaps more so now than when they were taken, thirty to fifty years ago.
The essays accompanying the photographs tell us about what happened to the photos’ subjects, both when the shutter captured them and since; about the challenges facing the photographers in the heat of battle; and how, in some cases, the photographers changed history by bringing Vietnam’s senseless violence to ordinary Americans’ doorsteps, thereby helping turn public opinion against the war.
Published to coincide with the thirtieth anniversary of the fall of Saigon, Under Fire is a potent, often poignant reminder of the men and women whose work helped forge the collective memory of a generation.
192 pages, Hardcover
First published April 26, 2005
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
October 1, 2017
5 stars for the amazing photos and essays, but 1 star for the frustrating formatting/editorial decisions made for this book.
All of the captions for the photos are tucked away at the very back of the book. This isn't immediately clear when you initially begin looking through the book; it looks like all the photos stand alone without any context. You look at a photo and wonder, where was this taken? when? who are the people in this picture? Once you discover there are captions somewhat hidden at the end of the book, rather than with each photo or anywhere near them, it's frustrating to have to flip back and forth from the captions at the back of the book to the photos again.
Not having the captions or info readily available robs each photo of its context and its power. Case in point, a photo on pg. 19 looks like a body is, horrifically, being thrown from a helicopter. But digging into the back of the book to search out the caption, it reveals that it's of a US soldier being airlifted into an evac chopper; from the angle at which the photo was taken, you can't see the wires or harness. Having that necessary context completely changes the meaning of the photo.
Captions could have easily been included without detracting from the photos, and done a greater service to the photographers, their subjects and the readers.
All of the captions for the photos are tucked away at the very back of the book. This isn't immediately clear when you initially begin looking through the book; it looks like all the photos stand alone without any context. You look at a photo and wonder, where was this taken? when? who are the people in this picture? Once you discover there are captions somewhat hidden at the end of the book, rather than with each photo or anywhere near them, it's frustrating to have to flip back and forth from the captions at the back of the book to the photos again.
Not having the captions or info readily available robs each photo of its context and its power. Case in point, a photo on pg. 19 looks like a body is, horrifically, being thrown from a helicopter. But digging into the back of the book to search out the caption, it reveals that it's of a US soldier being airlifted into an evac chopper; from the angle at which the photo was taken, you can't see the wires or harness. Having that necessary context completely changes the meaning of the photo.
Captions could have easily been included without detracting from the photos, and done a greater service to the photographers, their subjects and the readers.
July 12, 2019
Under Fire: Great Photographers and Writers in Vietnam is a collection of poignant war photographs accompanied by essays from notable writers such as Halberstam, Sheehan, Caputo, and Stubbe. Photographers are all whom you would expect; but especially noteworthy to me amongst the images are the 15 by the late Catherine Leroy, editor of this collection. As an impoverished freelancer, Leroy likely spent as much time with combat forces as any other photojournalist during the American war. She was the first woman to receive the Robert Capa Gold Medal Award from the Overseas Press Club. The award wasn’t for her work in Vietnam and it wasn’t for being a woman. She won because she was one of the best conflict photographers in the world and her images have not received the attention they deserve. This volume is a tiny step in correcting that deficiency. Otherwise, Under Fire collects images that should remain in the national consciousness, reminders of what happens when self-absorbed “leaders” focused on their own egos send young men & women to their deaths while inflicting immeasurable horror on innocent populations. As Fred Ritchin notes in his essay, with the American war in Vietnam, “…photojournalism became a medium that interrogated layers of reality rather than providing simple answers.” (p. 160)
Amongst the heart wrenching images are two from Nick Ut. The first is that of Kim Phuc, the photograph that is no doubt familiar to anyone who might have interest in this book. But the other image is perhaps equally upsetting. It’s of the massive explosion of napalm in the village of Trang Bang that burned Phuc. In that same attack, both Ut and David Burnett photographed the same woman carrying a badly burned child who did not survive (pages vii and 141). One can only imagine how many other children perished in similar napalm attacks in villages not as conveniently located near Saigon and for which no press was present.
This book can serve as a memorial to the photojournalists, soldiers, and civilians who died in the war, being as Chris Hedges seeks, “…a way to honor the dead and not allow the state that failed them to be honored as well, to remind people that war is always about betrayal, the betrayal of the young by the old, idealists by cynics, and finally soldiers by politicians. There should be a way to keep the rage and anger about the old lie alive, not solemnize and bury it.” (p. 157)
Amongst the heart wrenching images are two from Nick Ut. The first is that of Kim Phuc, the photograph that is no doubt familiar to anyone who might have interest in this book. But the other image is perhaps equally upsetting. It’s of the massive explosion of napalm in the village of Trang Bang that burned Phuc. In that same attack, both Ut and David Burnett photographed the same woman carrying a badly burned child who did not survive (pages vii and 141). One can only imagine how many other children perished in similar napalm attacks in villages not as conveniently located near Saigon and for which no press was present.
This book can serve as a memorial to the photojournalists, soldiers, and civilians who died in the war, being as Chris Hedges seeks, “…a way to honor the dead and not allow the state that failed them to be honored as well, to remind people that war is always about betrayal, the betrayal of the young by the old, idealists by cynics, and finally soldiers by politicians. There should be a way to keep the rage and anger about the old lie alive, not solemnize and bury it.” (p. 157)
May 5, 2019
Amazing photos and great stories written by men that served in vietnam.
January 31, 2015
Wonderful writing and photos both (unsurprisingly), many by well-known photographers and writers (Tim O'Brien, Henri Huet, etc.). Frustrating format, though -- a photo, a short essay, biographies of writer and photographer, and a handful more pictures by the same photographer. Then on to the next writer and photographer. It's wonderful to have such a mix of photographers, as they covered different areas/battles/times and picked up on different things, but I very much wanted more text. The captions are all at the end of the book -- feels like they could have been in the main text, and the bios at the back. (I imagine the editor sought to call out the experience the writers and photographers brought to the job -- many, many vets here.) The other thing I wanted was also more text...by which I mean more essays, I suppose, or a format that allowed for longer ones.
Still, some haunting pieces, both in text and in image:
In the course of thirty hours I was wounded twice and thought myself dead. My company suffered 93 percent casualties. I watched all the friends I had in the world die. (Jack Smith, p. 13)
A three-photo series: In the first, a soldier mans a gun from a helicopter, about to land for a rescue mission. His expression is tight, but he's in control. In the second, he's shouting something, kneeling, a rescued soldier apparently unconscious on the floor of the helicopter. And in the third, back on the ground and in a building -- in relative safety -- he has collapsed in tears on a couple of boxes. (Photographs by Larry Burrows, pp. 34-35)
Nearby, a Marine I knew well, Rick, dabbed his head with a roll of toilet paper. The floor below was filled with his bloody, crumpled papers. I was startled to see him the next day digging deeper trenches in the recon area. "That wasn't my blood," he explained. "It was the blood from others in the trench that were killed." (Ray W. Stubbe, p. 67)
Still, some haunting pieces, both in text and in image:
In the course of thirty hours I was wounded twice and thought myself dead. My company suffered 93 percent casualties. I watched all the friends I had in the world die. (Jack Smith, p. 13)
A three-photo series: In the first, a soldier mans a gun from a helicopter, about to land for a rescue mission. His expression is tight, but he's in control. In the second, he's shouting something, kneeling, a rescued soldier apparently unconscious on the floor of the helicopter. And in the third, back on the ground and in a building -- in relative safety -- he has collapsed in tears on a couple of boxes. (Photographs by Larry Burrows, pp. 34-35)
Nearby, a Marine I knew well, Rick, dabbed his head with a roll of toilet paper. The floor below was filled with his bloody, crumpled papers. I was startled to see him the next day digging deeper trenches in the recon area. "That wasn't my blood," he explained. "It was the blood from others in the trench that were killed." (Ray W. Stubbe, p. 67)
January 10, 2013
While reading the bio's of the photographers and the short stories from the writers, it becomes apparent that these people have a keen understanding of war, depicting it as it is and give the viewer a deeper understanding as to what war means, how it impacts humans and their environs. Some of these photojournalists paid the ultimate price sacrificing their lives in action. It is utterly impossible to know the whole effects of war. I think it is safe to say war degrades the human race. The photojournalists give a birds eye view through these still pictures of the devastation, the carnage and the deepest of emotions from those involved in war. Hopefully, they serve as a reminder of the great cost of war and give the human race pause. We should always, always be slow to engage in war. Our resolve should always be to avoid this type of action at all costs.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews