“Your brother was loved by his fellow Marines, and he loved them. The
biggest fear any of us had over there wasn’t being killed —it was screwing up
and doing something that would let our companions down. You’re always thinking:
‘I don’t want to do something that is less than honorable.’ That’s my
definition of a warrior, which is exactly what your brother was.”
—Fox Company survivor Jim
Wainwright, Jeff Smith’s platoon commander, Chapter 28, Our Brother’s Keeper
I was honored to attend Jedwin
Smith’s book launch party for Our
Brother’s Keeper last night at Peerless Bookstore. There wasn’t an empty
seat as Vietnam Vets, family and friends and Atlanta’s literary community came out to show
their support for this exceptional writer.
I met Jedwin, a former Atlanta Journal Constitution journalist
and Marine, earlier this year as a student in his writer’s group. Jedwin’s
abilities as a storyteller are well known; his war-time reporting in Beirut
made him a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, and his book Fatal Treasure, detailing the true-life search for lost treasure on
board a Spanish ship sunk off the Florida coast 350 years ago, is being made
into a movie by VIRGIN.
 |
| Marine Jeff Smith |
Our Brother’s Keeper, originally released in 2005, tells the very
personal story of an Irish-Catholic family torn apart by war. It details the
loss of Jedwin’s younger brother, Jeff, the family’s “peacemaker,” during the Vietnam
War. A member of Foxtrot Company, 2nd Battalion, 4th
Marines, Jeff and his Company were ambushed by VC in the village of Mai Xa Thi,
on March 7, 1968.
Since its release, Our Brother’s
Keeper has been widely used by the VA and by the Wounded Warrior Project®,
serving to heal many veterans and bring
closure to families still reeling from the sacrifice of dads and brothers,
husbands and sons — “heroic men who gave
their tomorrows so we may enjoy our todays.”
In his quest to learn what happened to his brother, Jedwin reconnected
with his siblings, located the eight survivors of his brother’s company, and
took an unforgettable trip to Vietnam.
Much more than a war story, Our Brother’s Keeper is a tale of redemption and
forgiveness… of the complex ties between fathers, mothers and children…of
letting go.
Q. What made you re-publish Our Brother’s Keeper this time around?
Jedwin: The original was a catharsis, a way of honoring my
brother’s sacrifice while at the same time explaining how the death of one
individual can shatter the family dynamic. What I was unable to wrap my mind
around the first time was how important my father’s Marine Corps exploits in
the South Pacific during World War II shaped the path my brothers and I would
follow when we came of age to serve in the military.
Dad was still alive when
the book was first published; yet only when he died did his life cycle and that
of his sons become crystal clear. We lived to not only make our father proud of
us (by being Marines, the toughest of the tough), but we also tried to exceed
Dad’s exploits. Jeff died in the attempt; I almost died numerous times while
attempting to complete that mission, and subsequently lapsed into alcoholism;
and younger brother Joe managed to surpass all my father accomplished, yet
gained no credit for doing so. In essence, we were damned if we did and damned
if we didn’t which, when looking at war’s bottom line, is the story of combat
participants.
Q: What can the public
expect in this expanded edition?
Jedwin: Sadly enough,
children grow up with a stilted version of what it takes to not only step into
the inferno of combat, but also how long it takes the soul to heal itself after
doing so. In the original version of OBK, two of the most important chapters
were drastically cut or eliminated altogether—both dealt with the mental
anguish experienced by war’s survivors. In essence, these two chapters were the
heart and soul of the book. In the original publication, these chapters were
sliced and diced because, to quote the editor, “There was just too much war.”
Sounds silly, doesn’t it—a book about war being trimmed because there was too
much war.
Q. You experienced a lot of emotions
writing this memoir. What did this book do for you and your family in its
aftermath?
Jedwin: In truth, I
wrote and cried, then wrote and cried some more. It was draining, emotionally
and mentally. I’d lived through the hell once, and then had to live through it
again in front of thousands of readers. It is a humbling process. If you hide
something, you’re lying to yourself and the reader. No way can you keep your
sanity by doing so. I was able to get sober only by being truthful with myself.
Same is said for writing OBK. My brother’s death in Vietnam destroyed our family, yet
bringing Jeff back to life in the book’s early chapters was a resurrection of
not only my soul, but also that of my brothers and sisters. We went almost 30
years without speaking to each other; OBK gave us back our desire to
communicate with each other, and maybe even love one another again. It’s still
a work in progress.
Q. What are you most proud of about this
story?
Jedwin: From 7 March 1968
until the moment I started Chapter One of Our
Brother’s Keeper, I lived with an insane rage to extract revenge for my
brother’s death. But as soon as the first few pages of the book were compiled,
my brother began to live again. Instead of focusing on death, I grabbed a hold
of life. And by doing so, an insurmountable weight was lifted from my
shoulders.
# # #
In this expanded Q and A, Jedwin shares the best writing advice he ever
received, the most common mistake first-time authors make, and his need to pay
it forward to the next generation.
 |
| Congratulating Jedwin on his book. |
Q. What the best advice you ever got about
being a writer?
Jedwin: A long time ago, author Bill Diehl took me under his wing.
I wanted to be a novelist in his mold. He told me to concentrate on my
strength, which he said was non-fiction and become my own man. It’s not what I
wanted to hear, but I took his advice (grudgingly) and became a success. He
also was very blunt about what he considered to be the “secret” to becoming a
successful writer. “Just sit down and write,” he said. Of course, I thought he
was being a smart-ass. In time, after staring days at a blank computer scene, I
finally grasped the wisdom of his words.
Q. What is the most common mistake writers
make with their first book?
Jedwin: They rush their work; they don’t take time to self-edit.
They want that manuscript done—and done NOW! There is no easy path to
completing a book. It’s a labor of love, hate, joy, sorrow, frustration,
rejection, etc. I believe you receive all that you put into your craft, your
story. Half-assed effort leads to half-assed results. Hey, a little blood never
hurt anyone. So slice open that vein and let it flow. My work day during OBK
sometimes stretched into 18 hours; then I spent half as much time self-editing
and rewriting and rewriting some more. One must be willing to pay the price for
success. Writing is grueling work; painful at times, pure joy at others. But
it’s also the hardest job I’ve ever tried to tackle. Living through the hell of
Beirut was a
whole lot simpler than writing Our Brother’s
Keeper. I kid you not.
Q: Why the writing
group? How often do you offer these sessions? What is the key element of them?
Jedwin: Writers are a weird bunch. We lay our fears and our loves,
etc., on a platter for the world to pick through. We do so for little pay, long
hours, and mostly little applause (unless it’s from our immediate family). I’m a big believer in the writer’s community,
which is why I’m a big fan of the Atlanta Writer’s Club. We do our best when in
the company of other writers. As a body, we know how sharp is the spear of
rejection, how painful is the ax wielded by critics. Yet, we can learn by the
failures of others—and, admittedly, there isn’t a writer who hasn’t tasted
failure.
I wanted to form a small
circle of experienced writers, newcomers, dreamers, etc., and let us feast off
each other. As a Marine, impossible was never a part of our vocabulary. We
positively guaranteed you we could and would destroy the enemy overnight. It
was drilled into us. Harshly. Painfully. I figured I might be able to
accomplish the same results in a small, diverse writing community by passing on
the skills I’ve learned, being honest about all the mistakes I’d made, and pump
up the individual’s enthusiasm with a positive, complimentary approach to the
craft. What is truly humbling and gratifying is that this approach has been
successful over the past three years. Truth is, though, I learn every bit as
much from my students as they do from me. And that’s the way a family should
function.
