Review of Deadly Waters: The Vietnam Naval War And Its Aftermath
-
Abnel A Ongaga
- Book of the Month Participant
- Posts: 4
- Joined: 15 Jun 2025, 06:22
- Currently Reading:
- Bookshelf Size: 0
- Reviewer Page: onlinebookclub.org/reviews/by-abnel-a-ongaga.html
Review of Deadly Waters: The Vietnam Naval War And Its Aftermath
[Following is a volunteer review of "Deadly Waters: The Vietnam Naval War And Its Aftermath" by Randy Miller.]
If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of bad leadership—or watched someone fumble a situation you knew how to handle—then parts of Deadly Waters will hit a little too close. There’s this thread that runs through the book where experience clashes with authority, and it isn’t subtle. During one scene in particular, the USS Hawke is doing an underway replenishment in nasty weather, and when the supply ship veers off course, Palmer—an enlisted sailor—makes a split-second decision that probably saves lives. He moves the ship before receiving a direct order. Smart move, right? Not to Lieutenant Moretti. Moretti tears into him for reacting without permission, even though he leaves Palmer at the helm, which kind of says it all. The chain of command is preserved on paper, but on that deck, in that moment, experience had to outrank protocol. It’s one of those moments I kept thinking about long after I turned the page.
What stood out to me throughout the book was how this tension isn’t just between two characters—it’s structural. The officers, many of them, are portrayed as focused on optics, discipline, and bureaucracy, while the enlisted crew are keeping the ship alive in every sense. Zack, Borg, Palmer—guys who know how things work because they’ve been living it day in and day out. I think what makes it even more gripping is that Miller doesn’t treat the Navy like a neat, functioning machine. He lets it grind, creak, and falter in full view. You can see how decisions from the top create ripple effects in the engine room, in the mess hall, on the bridge. It feels honest, and in some cases, frustratingly familiar.
The book’s critique of power extends well beyond the ship. I’m talking about the scenes involving the VA and the Pentagon. They’re written with this mix of clinical coldness and personal outrage. You’ve got officials actively plotting how to deny claims from sailors who were clearly exposed to toxic chemicals—Agent Orange in particular. Zack’s cancer, which is central to the emotional weight of the story, is tied directly to these policies. There’s a scene where bureaucrats joke about using technicalities to avoid paying benefits, and it doesn’t feel exaggerated. It feels researched, documented. I can say that those pages made me angry, and I think that’s the point. It’s one thing to risk your life in a war, it’s another to come home and be told your suffering doesn’t count because you were twenty feet too far from the coast.
That said, I did find myself wondering about the political tone. While the anger is earned—and necessary—it sometimes pushes out any sense of balance. There isn’t really space for a counterpoint or even a more nuanced take on why these policies were allowed to exist. I’m not saying the book needs to give both sides equal airtime, but a little complexity in those policy discussions might’ve made the criticism hit harder. As it is, the injustice is clear, but the portrayal of the system feels a bit flat—everyone in charge is either cruel or indifferent. Maybe that’s true in many cases, but I think some readers will feel the lack of subtlety.
Still, I’d give the book a strong 4 out of 5 stars. The characters are believable, the structure moves like a ship at sea—slow at times, but always building pressure—and the core message about loyalty, fatigue, and the cost of silence sticks with you. The parts that made me grit my teeth were the same ones that made me care. I could’ve used a little more depth from characters like Moretti or the administrative players behind the curtain, but it doesn’t take away from how powerfully this book confronts the ways institutions fail the very people who keep them afloat. I’d recommend it to anyone who wants to see war from the inside—not from a general’s tent, but from the soaked boots and tired hands of the people who had to live it.
******
Deadly Waters: The Vietnam Naval War And Its Aftermath
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of bad leadership—or watched someone fumble a situation you knew how to handle—then parts of Deadly Waters will hit a little too close. There’s this thread that runs through the book where experience clashes with authority, and it isn’t subtle. During one scene in particular, the USS Hawke is doing an underway replenishment in nasty weather, and when the supply ship veers off course, Palmer—an enlisted sailor—makes a split-second decision that probably saves lives. He moves the ship before receiving a direct order. Smart move, right? Not to Lieutenant Moretti. Moretti tears into him for reacting without permission, even though he leaves Palmer at the helm, which kind of says it all. The chain of command is preserved on paper, but on that deck, in that moment, experience had to outrank protocol. It’s one of those moments I kept thinking about long after I turned the page.
What stood out to me throughout the book was how this tension isn’t just between two characters—it’s structural. The officers, many of them, are portrayed as focused on optics, discipline, and bureaucracy, while the enlisted crew are keeping the ship alive in every sense. Zack, Borg, Palmer—guys who know how things work because they’ve been living it day in and day out. I think what makes it even more gripping is that Miller doesn’t treat the Navy like a neat, functioning machine. He lets it grind, creak, and falter in full view. You can see how decisions from the top create ripple effects in the engine room, in the mess hall, on the bridge. It feels honest, and in some cases, frustratingly familiar.
The book’s critique of power extends well beyond the ship. I’m talking about the scenes involving the VA and the Pentagon. They’re written with this mix of clinical coldness and personal outrage. You’ve got officials actively plotting how to deny claims from sailors who were clearly exposed to toxic chemicals—Agent Orange in particular. Zack’s cancer, which is central to the emotional weight of the story, is tied directly to these policies. There’s a scene where bureaucrats joke about using technicalities to avoid paying benefits, and it doesn’t feel exaggerated. It feels researched, documented. I can say that those pages made me angry, and I think that’s the point. It’s one thing to risk your life in a war, it’s another to come home and be told your suffering doesn’t count because you were twenty feet too far from the coast.
That said, I did find myself wondering about the political tone. While the anger is earned—and necessary—it sometimes pushes out any sense of balance. There isn’t really space for a counterpoint or even a more nuanced take on why these policies were allowed to exist. I’m not saying the book needs to give both sides equal airtime, but a little complexity in those policy discussions might’ve made the criticism hit harder. As it is, the injustice is clear, but the portrayal of the system feels a bit flat—everyone in charge is either cruel or indifferent. Maybe that’s true in many cases, but I think some readers will feel the lack of subtlety.
Still, I’d give the book a strong 4 out of 5 stars. The characters are believable, the structure moves like a ship at sea—slow at times, but always building pressure—and the core message about loyalty, fatigue, and the cost of silence sticks with you. The parts that made me grit my teeth were the same ones that made me care. I could’ve used a little more depth from characters like Moretti or the administrative players behind the curtain, but it doesn’t take away from how powerfully this book confronts the ways institutions fail the very people who keep them afloat. I’d recommend it to anyone who wants to see war from the inside—not from a general’s tent, but from the soaked boots and tired hands of the people who had to live it.
******
Deadly Waters: The Vietnam Naval War And Its Aftermath
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
