Because of my role at Command Post, I'm occasionally sent a book to read, sometimes with a request for a review and sometimes not. Last week I was offered a review copy of Michael Phillip's new book, The Gift of Valor. It arrived Thursday; I read the bulk in two sittings (on the plane to and from Minneapolis on Friday), and the remainder this morning.

My main comments on the book are tangential to the core facts of a review, so I'll get the core facts out of the way first:

• The book is about Corporal Jason Dunham, U.S.M.C., who died from injuries suffered in Iraq when he covered an insurgent grenade with his battle helmet in an attempt to blunt the blow and minimize injuries to his troops.
• The book is extremely well-researched, well-written, and engaging. Difficult to put down, the accounts of battle are riveting, and the accounts of family and character are vivid and personal.
• Phillip's account is (thankfully) apolitical ... he presents events through the eyes of a reporter who treats matters factually. It's a story of people, not a screed on the war.
• It's an extraordinary book, one I enthusiastically recommend to others.

Now to my main comments. I first leaned of Corporal Dunham when I read Phillip's first Wall Street Journal article about the Marine on 25 May 2004 (link via Blackfive). I remember being touched by the story; my feelings after finishing The Gift of Valor are deeper, stronger ... more moving and substantive.

I finished the book just an hour ago, reading the final chapters on our back deck, warmed by the Sunday Pennsylvania sun as it rose through the white pines of our back yard. The air was warm but not hot, a soft breeze coming from the South, a trio of male cardinals chasing each other from tree to tree in the yard.

Kate by my side. Warm and freshly-ground coffee in my mug. The dog in the yard, happily munching on a stick, on the lookout for squirrels.

When I finished the book, I was moved.

Some of my reaction was a function of contrast: the obvious juxtaposition between my life in reading the book, and the lives of Corporal Dunham and his peers in living it. This book gives you a very clear window into the reality of the war in Iraq, the reality of war in general, and the people who shape and are shaped by that reality day in a day out.

It makes a Sunday morning on the deck with your wife seem a rich blessing, which frankly, it is.

Some of my reaction was melancholy at the death of Corporal Dunham. Some will call his death a waste, others a sacrifice, others still (including me) an act of courage and honor. History will apply that final lens, but regardless of that judgment, he was clearly a fine and good young man, and Phillip's descriptions of his life, his family, and his character struck deep chords.

And finally, and perhaps most of all, my reaction was humble awe not just of Corporal Dunham, but of the support of those around him through his journey: the Corpsmen, his fellow Marines, the nurses and doctors, the administrators ... the infrastructure of the US military and the U.S.M.C, which brought humanity and caring to every step.

This is where we find the real story of The Gift of Valor: in the valor of not just those who serve, but of those who serve those who serve. This is a book about not one, but hundreds of heroes.

Of the Major who waits hours for his men to receive medical attention before revealing that he, too, has been shot.

Of the neurosurgeons who leave wealthy practice in the States to make a gritty practice in the sands of Iraq.

Of the nurses who refuse to leave an injured Marine alone for even a moment, hour upon hour.

Of the administrators at Bethesda who drain their personal savings throwing barbecues for the families of the injured, weekend after weekend.

Of the people of Scio who drain their rainy day funds to send Corporal Dunham's family to Germany, if needed.

There are two passages in this book that, for me, eloquently struck this chord of systemic caring. Both are in the book's final pages, as Corporal Dunham's family struggles with the decision of whether or not to honor the Corporal's living will request to not receive life support if in a vegetative state.

The first:

When the Dunhams stood up, one of the Marines took their place at Jason's side and held his hand.

The second -- too long to recreate here -- describes how General Michael Hagee, the Marine corps commandant, skipped a meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to present Corporal Dunham's Purple Heart in person, and to be at his parent's side to tell them what kind of a Marine their son was.

Perhaps I'm naïve. But I've never held the view of the Marine corps, or of our military in general, as an infrastructure that would provide such humane caring for its people: to ensure a wounded soldier, even one in a deep coma, is not left without a hand to hold; to demonstrate that parents facing the most difficult choice they can make are a greater priority than the planning of our military's highest council.

Time and again The Gift of Valor tells these tales: people, caring for each other, loving each other, in the eye of a storm of pain and risk and death. It's terribly moving.

One of my favorite films is Love Actually. It's one of those movies that, if I catch a glimpse of it on TV, I'm committed to see the rest of the thing out. The film opens with a narrative by Hugh Grant, in which he says:

Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make
out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that.
It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly
dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons,
mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old
friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of
the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or
revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got
a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around.

And so it is with valor. The dictionary tells us valor is "courage and boldness, as in battle; bravery". The message Michael Phillips brings us is that, yes, Corporal Dunham had the gift of valor. But the bigger message is that people all around us ... doctors, nurses, administrators, the school principal down the street ... they also carry that gift, for they have the courage and boldness and bravery to love.

And in that, valor is all around.

(You may see the Fallen Heros Memorial page for Corporal Dunham here, and the Marine Corps News story of his death here. Cross posted at Seat 1A.)