My War Gone By, I Miss IT So

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In parallel with the author's story of the war, he also details his own personal difficulties, including a heroin addiction. H e went to school for journalism and then went to Bosnia with a vague plan to cover the ongoing war. Through this window, the reader sees and attempts to grasp the emotional turmoil that Loyd struggles through as his mind attempts to understand and catalog the brutalities of humanity against itself.

I have nowhere read a more vivid account of frontline fear and survival' Martin Bell, The Times 'An astonishing book . As a survivor he told it as it was, sometimes from the heart, but also as if he left his earthly body and looked down on the cruelty and pointless atrocities from above. It is a breathtaking feat of reportage; an uncompromising look at the terrifyingly seductive power of war.

Loyd masterfully illustrates the sheer hatred displayed by humanity and the brutality humans are capable of inflicting on each other. Anybody else feel a little queasy, like watching two teenagers playing video games only we are talking about human life. Born into a distinguished military family, Loyd was raised on the stories of his ancestors' exploits and grew up fascinated with war. takes no responsibility for the content or accuracy of the above news articles, Tweets, or blog posts.

And his writing from the middle of the action is visceral, rife with urges that chaos and anonymity spur. A former infantry officer, he left the British army after the First Gulf War and went to live in Bosnia, where he started reporting for The Times. Loyd's fragmentary reports morph into first-rate war correspondence from Bosnia that places him into the great tradition of Hemingway, Caputo, and Michael Herr.In the midst of the daily life-and-death struggle among Bosnia’s Serbs, Croats and Muslims, he was inspired by the extraordinary human fortitude he discovered.

Loyd witnessed a moment when a weeping Croat brought his Muslim neighbors to the Swiss UN troops for safety.The first thing I noticed was the way the fighters’s faces seemed contorted: eyes wide, jaws clenched, mouths grimacing, skins oily with sweat. Improvised claymore mines were attached to their chests, linked to the Croat houses by coils of wire that unraveled slowly with each stop of their robotic progress.

Not like any other book on the Yugoslav war, his gripping, viscerally subjective chronicle puts a human face on the tragedy as it mourns the strangled soul of multiethnic Bosnia. This is pure war reporting, free from the usual journalistic constraints that often give a false significance to suffering. I was struck by Anthony's work and words, experiences, and for me his is an important voice and an important book.For those who have experienced war first hand, it is an intimate and personal endeavor often difficult to explain to their loved ones.