“Couldn’t have been easier…Like the C.O. said, most people believe what they see . . . even the enemy. It’s amazing what you can do just on bull—- . . . and believing in yourself.”

Books vs. Films — Uffda.

I mentioned in an earlier post on The Great Escape that I’m trying to read through some of the old WWII books that were the bases of some of my favorite films growing up. The 1967 film, The Dirty Dozen, certainly made that cut for me, and I can’t guess at how many times I’ve watched it—or at least the TV version that my mom had recorded on VHS, probably with late 80s or early 90s commercials to boot.

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The TV version of the film might have been a cleaned-up version, and it might not. I learned that hard lesson of the differences between the two recently when I showed my kids a DVD of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles without checking the rating—the TV version that I knew from growing up did not include Steve Martin’s profanity-laced airport scene! And since our family watches DVDs with subtitles, it was a bad moment for me as Dad all around, even with a MUTE button. Live and learn!

I think this is an important point to make for the sake of this book, because the film I remember from childhood might not be the real-deal theater version, making some of the points I give about the book below moot. The film certainly represented many of the book’s scenes accurately, but goodness, the film I remember is so tame compared to the book!

The Backstory and Plot of the Book

The book contains an unbelievable amount of backstory on a number of the main-player convicts, not to mention of Captain Reicher himself. This is normal, of course, since books generally provides so much more backstory than films are able to deliver. There’s really no contest as to which is better (again, generally speaking; I still never want to read Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, but I absolutely love Peter Jackson’s movie renditions!). The things we learn about the men involved in this secret military program will make your toenails curl (that’s a saying, right?)—from their relationships and betrayals to their crimes involving rape and murder. E.M. Nathanson pulls no punches, and his novel contains some terribly vile scenes, so, reader beware.

Key to this plot are characters I recognized from the movie: Franco, Maggot, and Posey. Napoleon White was a character of depth that I really liked, though it seems that the 1960s producers didn’t want to make such an open hero of a black man—so instead they replaced Lieutenant White with Jefferson, played by NFL star Jim Brown. It’s a shame really, and that’s nothing against Brown or his acting. White’s character was an image of class, despite his crime of revenge against racial abusers, and his absence (for me now at least) will be felt in the film.

I don’t recall the Odell character from the movie, but it’s just as well. His backstory of rape and murder (despite his cries of “innocent!”) will definitely make a reader cringe. It’s too much even to discuss, so I’ll leave you with this tiny spoiler: he’s guilty and he didn’t deserve a second chance.

The Book’s Message and Surprises

The main message of the book is that there’s a process to building trust and providing even these lowlifes a second chance in life, a chance at bare minimum to be soldiers again and to make their inevitable deaths count for something. Reicher’s process and patience can be felt as the chapters fly by, as most of the men under his command shift from animals without discipline into soldiers with, if not disciple, at least some focus and camaraderie.

There were a few differences between the book and film that I thought were noteworthy. Reicher’s not the Lee Majors character I had in mind, but is instead a 30-something, dark-haired Captain with a girl he’s falling in love with at the inn in town. I had to wrap my imagination around that one for a while before I really fell into the book.

Also, I was especially looking forward to reading through one of my favorite scenes from the movie, when Donald Sutherland pretends he’s an Army General and looks over Col. Breed’s troops. The book totally brushes past this scene with barely a note, much to my disappointment, but I guess that just means I need to go and watch the movie once again. It’s such a genius scene!

The end of the book was also a bit puzzling to me. Just as I recognized the film’s climax about to hit, as the convicts reached the chateau (the morning of D-Day, it turns out) and were about to deliver some warranted justice against the Nazi elite, the book sort of ends. No longer was it an intense, suspenseful narrative of the battle as we saw it in the film, but rather it suddenly shifted from mid-action drama to a stiff and blasé after-action report from one of the M.P.s who survived. It tells us what happened in black and white, I suppose, but it also really cut the wind from my sails. I assume that fact alone is why this is book’s been mostly forgotten to history.

Conclusion

I really enjoyed this story, the fictionalized version of The Filthy Thirteen. I think either would make an excellent mini-series, if anyone’s looking for a good remake. I probably wouldn’t allow myself to watch it, what with all the language and sex and violence that would necessarily be involved (especially by today’s “standards”), but still, it’s a great story with deep characters and would play really well for ten episodes or so.

I’m glad to have read both The Dirty Dozen and The Great Escape now. It’ll be interesting to find what other great WWII books-turned-films come down the pike—perhaps Where Eagles Dare or (if it exists) Kelly’s Heroes? Time to do some research!

©2023 E.T.