Review of Deadly Waters: The Vietnam Naval War And Its Aftermath
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Brayo Yobra
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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.]
By the time I reached final pages in Deadly Waters, I had stopped expecting a clear distinction between calm and chaos. This part of the book, like much of what came before it, captures that odd dissonance where everything seems routine—procedural, even—and then suddenly spirals into raw, unpredictable tension. What hit me most though, and I think it crept up without me realizing it, was the mental toll. You can almost feel the fatigue settling over the ship’s crew, especially through Zack and others who aren't screaming or falling apart, but are just... carrying it. And that weight—layered in silence and soaked uniforms—ends up saying more than the action scenes ever could.
The psychological fatigue isn't spelled out. It’s soaked into the detail. The way the men brace against swinging cargo crates during underway replenishment. The way Palmer makes a fast call at the helm, only to get chewed out by a superior for using his head too quickly. It’s not breakdowns or monologues—it’s discipline under fire, but that fire isn't always coming from the enemy. It’s coming from orders that don’t make sense, weather that won’t cooperate, and moments where your life depends on someone else not blinking at the wrong time. You get the feeling that long after the fight ends, the tension stays lodged behind the eyes.
That stretch of pages in particular does something rare with the idea of warfare—it focuses in on a fuel line snapping during a ship maneuver. No bullets, no enemies visible, but the danger is off the charts. The Platte’s sudden swerve, the hose snapping, cables whipping across the deck like live wires—it's so vivid, so physical, that you forget no one even fired a shot. In my opinion, that's the kind of realism this book thrives on. It’s not about climax; it’s about survival by inches, often through luck and instinct more than strategy. And it’s intense because of that.
I have to say, though, this same commitment to granular realism sometimes creates a bit of narrative fog. The moral questions raised in this book are strong—like when they board junks with questionable cargo, unsure whether they’re looking at a civilian aid shipment or a smuggling op. The ambiguity is powerful. It’s exactly how I imagine those situations must’ve felt. But a few of those dilemmas are left open in a way that feels a little unresolved, even structurally. As a reader, I don’t need neat answers, but I do think the narrative could benefit from just a little more reflection after those moments. Something to let the tension land. Instead, we move on quickly, and the weight of the choice sometimes slips away too fast. It might be intentional—maybe that’s the point. But I do wonder if a few more pages sitting in the discomfort would’ve brought something richer out of the story.
The thing that stuck with me, and I mean really stuck, was the atmosphere. The storm-lashed decks, the tension on the bridge, the way the ship seems to groan and breathe with its crew. By the time the Hawke breaks off from Aludra and sails into the next order from command, you feel like you're part of the crew. You're tired too. You’ve seen how decisions made behind closed doors get turned into risky maneuvers by soaked and hungry sailors, and you start asking the same questions they do—who’s really watching out for us?
I’m giving this book—and the experience as a whole—4 out of 5 stars. And the one star I’m holding back is really because of that tendency to leave moral crossroads hanging in mid-air. I wouldn’t say it weakens the book, but it does keep some of the most complex scenes from hitting as hard as they could. Even a small moment of reflection from Zack or the captain after those encounters could've sharpened the emotional edge. Still, I think Deadly Waters earns its place as something more than war narrative—it’s a slow, steady excavation of what war asks of people, especially when it doesn’t give them answers in return.
******
Deadly Waters: The Vietnam Naval War And Its Aftermath
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
By the time I reached final pages in Deadly Waters, I had stopped expecting a clear distinction between calm and chaos. This part of the book, like much of what came before it, captures that odd dissonance where everything seems routine—procedural, even—and then suddenly spirals into raw, unpredictable tension. What hit me most though, and I think it crept up without me realizing it, was the mental toll. You can almost feel the fatigue settling over the ship’s crew, especially through Zack and others who aren't screaming or falling apart, but are just... carrying it. And that weight—layered in silence and soaked uniforms—ends up saying more than the action scenes ever could.
The psychological fatigue isn't spelled out. It’s soaked into the detail. The way the men brace against swinging cargo crates during underway replenishment. The way Palmer makes a fast call at the helm, only to get chewed out by a superior for using his head too quickly. It’s not breakdowns or monologues—it’s discipline under fire, but that fire isn't always coming from the enemy. It’s coming from orders that don’t make sense, weather that won’t cooperate, and moments where your life depends on someone else not blinking at the wrong time. You get the feeling that long after the fight ends, the tension stays lodged behind the eyes.
That stretch of pages in particular does something rare with the idea of warfare—it focuses in on a fuel line snapping during a ship maneuver. No bullets, no enemies visible, but the danger is off the charts. The Platte’s sudden swerve, the hose snapping, cables whipping across the deck like live wires—it's so vivid, so physical, that you forget no one even fired a shot. In my opinion, that's the kind of realism this book thrives on. It’s not about climax; it’s about survival by inches, often through luck and instinct more than strategy. And it’s intense because of that.
I have to say, though, this same commitment to granular realism sometimes creates a bit of narrative fog. The moral questions raised in this book are strong—like when they board junks with questionable cargo, unsure whether they’re looking at a civilian aid shipment or a smuggling op. The ambiguity is powerful. It’s exactly how I imagine those situations must’ve felt. But a few of those dilemmas are left open in a way that feels a little unresolved, even structurally. As a reader, I don’t need neat answers, but I do think the narrative could benefit from just a little more reflection after those moments. Something to let the tension land. Instead, we move on quickly, and the weight of the choice sometimes slips away too fast. It might be intentional—maybe that’s the point. But I do wonder if a few more pages sitting in the discomfort would’ve brought something richer out of the story.
The thing that stuck with me, and I mean really stuck, was the atmosphere. The storm-lashed decks, the tension on the bridge, the way the ship seems to groan and breathe with its crew. By the time the Hawke breaks off from Aludra and sails into the next order from command, you feel like you're part of the crew. You're tired too. You’ve seen how decisions made behind closed doors get turned into risky maneuvers by soaked and hungry sailors, and you start asking the same questions they do—who’s really watching out for us?
I’m giving this book—and the experience as a whole—4 out of 5 stars. And the one star I’m holding back is really because of that tendency to leave moral crossroads hanging in mid-air. I wouldn’t say it weakens the book, but it does keep some of the most complex scenes from hitting as hard as they could. Even a small moment of reflection from Zack or the captain after those encounters could've sharpened the emotional edge. Still, I think Deadly Waters earns its place as something more than war narrative—it’s a slow, steady excavation of what war asks of people, especially when it doesn’t give them answers in return.
******
Deadly Waters: The Vietnam Naval War And Its Aftermath
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
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Altaf Shaikh 3
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Great man that is truly inspiring.
