Thankfully, we have writers and photographers like Gilbertson, now working primarily on contract for the New York Times , who have not given up on the idea of real reporting. The photographs in Whiskey Tango Foxtrot convey a clear-eyed fidelity to the facts. The lurid and the ludicrous share equal space, often to dizzying effect. This is the kind of reporting we so desperately need: free of false bravura, free of agenda, free of inflated urgency.
For this reason, the book belongs less with other histories of the war than on the same shelf with Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms and Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five. This is not trumped-up news coming live from Iraq but the straight story with harrowing snapshots of the American soul. When future generations look back and wonder where we went wrong, where we failed ourselves and them, it will not be hours of television and radio broadcasts that they pore over.
It will be a select few texts, and Gilbertson's book deserves to be one of them. He has accepted his charge and climbed the cliff-top. He has told the truth and does not balk. Um die Gesamtbewertung der Sterne und die prozentuale Aufschlüsselung nach Sternen zu berechnen, verwenden wir keinen einfachen Durchschnitt.
Stattdessen berücksichtigt unser System beispielsweise, wie aktuell eine Bewertung ist und ob der Prüfer den Artikel bei Amazon gekauft hat. Es wurden auch Bewertungen analysiert, um die Vertrauenswürdigkeit zu überprüfen.
Arriving in Iraq on the eve of the U. Just twenty-five years old at the time, Gilbertson soon landed a contract with the New York Times , and his extraordinary images of life in occupied Iraq and of American troops in action began appearing in the paper regularly. Throughout his work, Gilbertson took great risks to document the risks taken by others, whether dodging sniper fire with American infantry, photographing an Iraqi bomb squad as they diffused IEDs, or following marines into the cauldron of urban combat.
