clear objectives and easily identified enemies --movie-makers, like many Americans, transferred their dislike for the conflict onto the soldier. Consequently, Hollywood produced pictures that can now be recognizes as misleading, distorted, sensationalistic, or just plain dishonest.brbrIn Vietnam at the Movies, Vietnam vet Michael Lee Lanning traces the genesis of the "war movie" from the Spanish American War all the way up to Vietnam, taking Tinseltown to task for its treatment of the Viet vet--painstakingly separating fact from the fiction, and reviewing the quality and accuracy of more than 380 films and TV movies, including:brbrAir America * The Big Chill * Birdy * Born on the Fourth of July * Casualties of War * Coming Home * The Deer Hunter * Dogfight * Easy Rider * First Blood * For the Boys * Friendly Fire * Full Metal Jacket * Good Morning Vietnam * Hair * In Country * JFK * The Killing Fields * Lethal Weapon * Nashville * Platoon * Running On Empty * Slaughterhouse-Five * Streamers * Suspect * Swimming to Cambodia * Taxi Driver * Tender Mercies * Top Gun * Year of the Dragon * And many more!brbrAlphabetically organized for quick and easy access, this comprehensive volume gives film audiences and VCR viewers the opportunity to understand exactly what they are watching when they see Vietnam at the movies.  (less)

his wife and has twin boys who both work as journalists.brbrbriFrom the Hardcover edition./ibONE/bbrbrWe were right on top of it when it went up, but none of us heard the bang. None of us who survived, anyway.brbrIt brought people out from their homes and their hiding places for twenty miles around, wondering if a nuclear bomb had gone off. That’s what it looked like. A great tower of black smoke, a kilometre wide, rushing up from the southern suburbs of the city to smear itself across the bottom of the clouds. The blackness was lined with fire and shot through by a fountain of smaller explosions that arched up into the gloom and fell, miles away, in a crackling, golden rain.brbrThey say what happened that morning in Addis Ababa was the biggest explosion in Africa in the history of man. We were only a couple of hundred yards away, four flimsy humans caught out in the open. Without warning, before our eyes could register, or our brains comprehend, what was happening, we were flung to our separate fates. We had been almost close enough to touch each other. One was killed instantly. One was terribly mutilated. One was blasted straight into unconsciousness.brbrI was the fourth. I had a brief moment of awareness; a sense of flying, or at any rate being airborne, in clouds of brown dust and singing metal. But, instead of hitting the ground, something very odd happened. My mind seemed to jettison the body, like the last stage of a space mission. I was suddenly in some parallel universe where time ran backwards, as well as forwards, in a jerky and random series of flashbacks. They made no overall sense, but they were vivid and overwhelming. They were like the closing credits of a film a?ÕÂ? (õÃÿ¾Û€  (less)