401 CHRONICLESnman have the right, or the duty, tondisobey orders he knows to be harmingnhis own country’s war effort? Flight ofnthe Intruder, unlike so many aerialnsagas, isn’t in trouble when on thenground — or inside its protagonist’snhead, as he ponders the morality ofnbombing.nWhat you try to do, Jakenthought, is to keep it fuzzy innyour mind that you kill realnpeople. . . . You see only silentnpuffs of smoke sometimes andnhow could they kill anyone? It’snnot real. . . . You have bombsnand there are no fair fights andnyou know it’s wrong. . . .nYet it is not merely the deaths, but abovenall the frustrating uselessness of hisnefforts that threatens his self-control:neven the bomber crewmen who destroyednHiroshima and Nagasaki couldnreflect on the peace their efforts hadnmade possible.nThe qualities thought necessary inncombat pilots are probed. Grafton believesnhimself “addicted to the adrenalinenhigh of taunting death,” fully aliven(vague phrase!) only when “naked andnrunning flat out” against SAM’s andntracers. If at times this sounds familiar,nlike a Howard Hawks movie (“In thenprofession of flying, a man was goodnenough or he wasn’t any good atnall . . . “), the otherness of thenIndochina conflict taints everything fornGrafton, who had expected somethingn”like in the books—knights-in-the-skynstuff,” never the kind of “absolutelynnutty” war he finds. Perhaps, in tellingnof a Ghinese refugee drowned seekingnHong Kong and freedom, Coontsnmeans to foreshadow the results ofnFor Immediate ServicenChroniclesnNEW SUBSCRIBERSnTOLL FREE NUMBERn1-800-435-0715nILLINOIS RESIDENTSn1-800-892-0753nlosing such a war.nFlight of the Intruder offers a climaxnof grade-A suspense in which — noneasy feat — one genuinely worriesnabout the characters’ fate. Its biggestnshock, however, may be the VirginiabornnGrafton’s opinion that the greatnRobert E. Lee was a “traitor” whonnevertheless “had a big rep back innVirginia.” This appalling heresy mightnbe explained by the fact that the authornhimself hails from West Virginia.nWayne Michael Sarf is the author ofnGod Bless You, Buffalo Bill: AnLayman’s Guide to History and thenWestern Film. He is presently pursuingna doctorate in military history.nMaking Lovenand Warnby Judith ChettlenTalking Across the World: ThenLove Letters of Olaf Stapletonnand Agnes Miller, 1913-1919,nedited by Robert Crossley, Hanover,nNH: University Press of NewnEngland; $27.95.nNearly half a century has passed, yet wencontinue to be enthralled by World WarnII. We watch reruns of The World atnWar on PBS, never miss Casablancanwhen it’s featured, and can even sitnthrough The Longest Day one morentime. Not so with World War I, which,nthough older, was in a sense a morenmodern war. Where World War IInwas, to the public, a traditional war, innwhich the forces of light did battle withnthose of darkness, the First World Warnwas perceived as a clash of states, notnphilosophies. Like Vietnam, it hadnmany celebrity pacifists and draftdodgers;nlike Vietnam, it left peoplendisspirited and cynical.nMany insights into the attitudes ofnWorld War I can be found in thenrecently published Talking Across thenWorld—a collection of letters betweennan Englishman, serving in France as annambulance driver, and his sweetheartnin Australia. Olaf Stapleton taughtnworking-class adults in Liverpool, butnhe also wrote books on the history ofnlife, much admired by people like H.G.nWells and the geneticist J.B.S. Haldane.nAfter the war, in the 30’s andnnn40’s, he produced scientific romances,nwhich had a considerable following,nand are said to have influenced writersnlike Arthur C. Clarke and Doris Lessing,nwho regarded him as one of thenfathers of modern science fiction.nThis collection of letters is as muchna conventional love story of two peoplenseparated by geography and the exigenciesnof wartime as a debate betweennthem on the war itself. Olaf, a graduatenof Balliol Gollege, Oxford, was reluctantnto join up: “I won’t go fightingnabroad if I can help it, because that isnnot our business.” Agnes, back in Australia,nthought it the duty of all whoncould fight to do so. The argument ofnpacifism versus war was to continue fornthe whole duration.nA socialist who intended to devotenhis life to improving the lot of thenworking class by teaching and writing,nOlaf resolved his dilemma—“I amntired of letting other people fight whilenI dream”—by joining an ambulancenunit organized by the Society ofnFriends. Though not a Quaker, Olaf’snfamily was affluent enough to be ablento purchase an ambulance, which Olafnwould then drive for the unit in France.nIn January 1915, he was able tonwrite to Agnes and tell her that he hadnapplied for the job. “I won’t go unless Incan get an essential, strenuous and ifnpossible perilous job; for it would benterrible to feel one was shirking hardshipnand danger.” Ambulance driversnwere in fact exposed to enormousndangers. Although they did not bearnarms, they came under fire, and manynlost their lives in heroic efforts to rescuenthe wounded. Stapleton and his unitnwere awarded the Croix de guerre bynthe French government for the servicesnthey rendered.nFor her part, Agnes sees fighting as anregrettable necessity: “If we could getnback all we have lost by any othernmeans than by fighting for it, I wouldnrejoice among the first that no morenblood need be shed. Isn’t that all we arenfighting for?” When Australia heldnreferendums over introducing conscription,nAgnes supported the policy:n”Why should the generous brave menngo do their share while the selfishncowardly shirkers stay at home and donnothing for anyone but themselves? Itndoesn’t seem fair. We all have shares innour country.”nThe debate between the two nevern