arms of young Byron Henry, then sendsnhim away while she is menaced by thenNazis in Italy and her uncle Aaronnblandly refuses to worry over such civilizednpeople. Meanwhile Pamela Tudsbury,nthe uninhibited English daughternof the famous correspondent, falls innlove with hero Victor Henry, whosenwife mistreats him. The reader is introducednto Berel Jastrow, a Polish Jewnwho is able to become a Soviet soldiernafter the collapse of Poland and thendisruption of his native village.nThat series of major involvements,nwith some lesser figures that can benrelied upon to remain around for a time,nmanages to hold attention even whilenenormous, cataclysmic events are describednwith admirable clarity and speed.nThere is no question that Herman Wouknknows his trade well. He has masterednall the techniques by which to retainnattention, to keep action moving, toncreate suitable dialogue for variousncharacters, and to portray believable,neven familiar men and women. Theirnvery familiarity, in fact, lulls suspicionnand increases the reader’s credulity,nso that one accepts the uncanny appearancenof one or another of these actorsnamid every great happening of the period.nThat is, of course, the great fascinationnof fiction, which releases thencontrols of the mind and allows thenflight of imagination to take over—andnthat is also why fiction is so apt a vehiclenfor propaganda.n1 he second novel carries the Henrysninto the war along with the UnitednStates, and places the Jastrows beforenthe Nazi juggernaut. It contains descriptionsnof war at sea, war in Russia,nevents both great and small that carrynheavy emotional charges. War and Remembrancenhas a number of war scenesnthat ring as true as any ever written.nByron Henry’s commanding officer, fornexample, is wounded atop the submarinenhe commands, and orders it to submergenwithout him, lest it be destroyed bynthe Japanese enemy force. Natalie JastrownHenry and her baby are, after ex­ncruciating ordeals, enslaved inside Germanynby the Nazis; eventually she andnher uncle are swept off toward the gasnchambers. It would be unfair to thenauthor to tell their fates in this review;nreaders are encouraged to learn it fornthemselves.nOther changes overtake the originalncast of characters: the English correspondentndies and his daughter movesncloser to hero Victor Henry, who risesnin the navy to rear admiral. He is sonpuritanical, however, that Wouk hasnto maneuver Rhoda Henry into infidelitynbefore her husband can be divorced.nEven then the author is careful not tonreduce Mrs. Henry; she remarries andnfinds happiness and wealth. The otherncharacters who lure reader loyalty arenfittingly rewarded. The second novelncontinues the rationalizations of Generalnvon Roon, and adds A Jew’s Journalnby Aaron Jastrow. These balance onenanother with remarkable symmetry;nboth contain interesting flashes, insightsnand glaring exaggerations, butnboth are extremely functional devicesnthat fit the semi-documentary style sonfashionable today.nDoth novels deserve the great salenand attention they have received thoughnneither for the reason that their dustnjackets cite. They are not accurate histories,nnor do they reflect the real warnthat took place. They are, in the politicalnand strategic sense, firmly inside thengreat body of generally accepted opinion.nThe most glaring deficiency in that respectnis in the portrayal of the Soviets,nwho are given credits a la HarrisonnSalisbury, their great apologist. The rolenof the Vatican is not denigrated so muchnas diminished; the French do not receivendue credit for their suffering andnthe European Underground does notnoften receive the spotlight. The figurenof Berel Jastrow, a Jewish fighter andnunderground agent is somewhat exaggerated,nbut then so are the abilitiesnand ubiquity of virtually all the centralnfictional characters. There are somenexcellent, truly first-rate, scenes ofnnnnaval war, and some events—such asnthe Battle of the Coral Sea—receivencredit for their significance that notnmany novelists have matched in termsnof strategic understanding.nThe second novel has made a heaviernimpact than the first. That is naturalnenough; American audiences are morenapt to be caught by scenes of a war innwhich this nation figures than by eventsnof the Thirties which largely involvednother peoples. Both novels are capablenof being turned over to the scriptwritersnas is; both are clearly material forncinematography; Wouk himself couldnturn either of them, or even parts ofnthem, into new vehicles as he did angeneration ago with The Caine Mutiny.nThat is not to deprecate, but to stressnthe author’s immense technique; hisncraftsmanship. There is another qualitynto Wouk’s work, moreover, that is outstanding:nin a period crowded withnwriters who smear their fellow countrymen,nand especially the military, henholds to the old attitudes. Wouk doesnnot look back upon the American Navynin World War II as a haven for fascistsnor buffoons: he recalls men who foughtnand died for their country, and leadersnwho made mistakes, but who also rosenbrilliantly against high challenge.nThroughout both The Winds of Warnand War and Remembrance, Wouknmakes it clear that ancient standardsnof villainy and heroism hold in thisncentury as well. He does not sneer atnthe weak, and even allows one StatenDepartment sophist to mature into manhood.nIn similar fashion his women arenfallible but charming, capable of lovenand decency; his Nazis are as repellentnas, indeed, they were in life.nTo say, after all this, that this is notnenough seems ungrateful and surly.nYet it must be admitted that all the skillsnof broadcasting and Hollywood, and ofnsmoothly turned plot and technique didnnot serve this nation well enough in thenThirties, did not make the issues ofnWorld War II clear in the early Forties,nand have not helped us much in thenworld since. We have need, of course.nil5nChronicles of Culturen