Review of "Steel Soldier" by James J. Messina, Charles Messina

Score: 96/100 (9.6 out of 10)

Steel Soldier is a no-holds-barred, gritty, violent, and deeply human account of the Battle of Guadalcanal, one of the key campaigns of the Pacific War during World War II. It is told from the perspective of James J. Messina, who hand-wrote and (impressively) even illustrated a five-volume memoir to preserve this harrowing true story for his children. All of that is brought together, edited, and framed through the efforts of his son, Charles.

This is the story of a man.
The story of a battle.
The story of a nation at war.
The story of a time come and gone but never to be forgotten.
The story of the Greatest Generation.
All captured in about 300 pages.

This is the story of a generation of ordinary kids from mill towns and city blocks who suddenly found themselves on a jungle island with history and the fates of nations bearing down on them.

We're going to preface our discussion of the content of this book by saying that the first third of this book takes a lot of patience. It takes awhile to get going, especially with Charles Messina explaining the process of how this book came together and all the context behind it. Furthermore (and most critically), the first five or six chapters about James Messina's early life, basic training, and the start of the war are nowhere near as interesting, compelling, or engaging as the actual battle itself. That's normal and to be expected. Not everything needs to be action, shooting, and explosions. This isn't some 80s action flick (or an Ethan Richards novel), it's real life. We did find our attentions waning and becoming impatient though.

At the same time, these early chapters provided context and background for the later, more dramatic chapters. They paint James Messina as an average 20th century American boy who became a man, a soldier, and a hero, expected to do extraordinary things under extraordinary, brutal, and high-stakes circumstances.

Messina starts as a restless young steelworker from West Aliquippa who wants “some excitement” and winds up in the Old Breed of the 1st Marine Division. The early chapters cover recruiting stations, Parris Island, long marches at Camp Lejeune, and convoy duty. There is humor, boredom, and the kind of tiny details you only get from someone who was actually there: the food, the pranks, the nicknames, the feel of a rifle that is finally starting to feel like an extra limb instead of a foreign object.

The thing that really stood out to us about these early chapters was Messina's drill instructor, who seemed to always go on power trips and call everyone a "sh*thead." It was somewhat humorous in how over-the-top it seemed. Another interesting thing about these chapters (and the book in general) is how it's explained that basic training and the military were different back then.

Another interesting thing about these chapters (and the book in general) is how it is explained that basic training and the military were different back then. The men live in canvas tents instead of modern barracks. The bathroom is called the "head," not the latrine. There are strict rules about no radios, no loud talking at night, smoking only when the "smoking lamp" is lit, and lights out at 10 PM sharp. The DI has total freedom to belittle them, get in their faces nose to nose, and threaten to "make you or break you" with no concern for mental health language or gentle feedback. Messina even mentions coming back from furlough and, at the thought of Parris Island, the first image that pops into his head is that corporal’s face and his dumb nickname for them, "sh*theads," which says a lot about what that older style of training felt like from the inside.

Oh, and by the way, everyone seemed to smoke back then. They smoked during transit. They smoked during battle. They smoke indoors too!

There's even a bit of a joke later on during the battle in which the narrator says, "We usually just stood around smoking and bullsh*tting."

This is also the time before the M16, which feels like it has been standard-issue since the dawn of time at this point. But this is before the Cold War, Vietnam War, and NATO. So, Messina is issued an M1903 Springfield bolt-action rifle with a pistol-grip stock and five-round clip, and he spends hours scraping Cosmoline off it, cleaning the bore, and learning bayonet drills.

Later, in the Pacific, his squad leans on “Old Faithful,” the Springfield ’03, while a buddy like Negri lugs a Browning Automatic Rifle that Messina calls the best jungle weapon a man could carry. The Marines even hand out M1 carbines with folding stocks to local islanders because they themselves do not like them, and Messina notes that most Japanese soldiers are carrying a smaller .25-caliber bolt-action rifle with a wicked hooked bayonet. All those details really drive home how different the gear, training, and overall feel of the Marine Corps were compared to the lighter, more high-tech and automatic weapons of today.

There's one little scene that really stood out to us with regard to the older technology, and that's when the Marines in Guadalcanal had to figure out how to aim and shoot at the enemy in the dead of night. Thankfully, they had tracer rounds back then, but night vision was still in its infancy and not widely used. So, one of the more innovative and cunning soldiers figured out he could attach a white paper to his rifle and use that to guide his shots. We love reading about soldiers being resourceful and clever like that.

Oh, speaking of shooting and aiming... there's a really cool scene about James Messina demonstrating how great of a shot he is. He is handed a .45 caliber automatic pistol at the range and told to shoot at a target fifty feet away. The instructor walks him through how to raise the weapon, bring the front sight down onto the top of the bull’s-eye, and squeeze instead of jerk the trigger. Messina does exactly what he is told and, to everyone’s shock, hits a bull’s-eye on his very first shot. Then he fires the next nine rounds and hits nine more bull’s-eyes in a row, earning an expert score with the .45 even though he has never fired a handgun before. It is a great little moment that shows both how well the old school instructors could teach and how naturally gifted Messina was as a shot.

He also seems to have a keen eye, such as when he spots a sniper in a tree obscured by camo, something that no one else seems to notice or see.

Oh, and this book also makes you appreciate civilian life and modern conveniences. There is a small moment when James and his buddies head into the mess hall and spot a little machine selling crackers and snacks, and it feels like Christmas morning. They have been living on C-rations, powdered eggs, and whatever the cooks can scrape together, so dropping a coin into a machine and getting a fresh, salty cracker is almost magical. You can practically feel the joy of that tiny treat, surrounded by mud, sweat, and fatigue.
Here in 21st century America, in any major civilian city, you can walk a block or two to a 7-Eleven and pick from a whole wall of chips, candy bars, and drinks without thinking twice. Things cost a lot less back then, but you also worked for quarters, and those quarters were precious. Steel Soldier quietly reminds you that for Messina’s generation, a simple snack from a mess hall machine could be a luxury, and that perspective makes our constant access to food, comfort, and choice feel a lot less guaranteed and a lot more like something to be grateful for.

Other attention-grabbing things are discussed before the battle itself. For example, the fate and speculation about what happened to Amelia Earhart is discussed. There's a sad and tragic moment when some crew are swept overboard and can't be rescued while avoiding the Japanese submarines. It is quick on the page, but it hits hard.

James also discusses a beautiful woman named Stevie who crosses his path aboard ship, and those scenes feel like a completely different world. He notices her looks, her smile, the way she carries herself, and you can sense that mix of shyness and daydreaming that comes with being a young man far from home. For a few pages, the tone shifts from training schedules and danger zones to something almost like a peacetime crush. Then the narrative swings back toward Guadalcanal, and that contrast makes the coming violence feel even sharper. All these little side stories (Amelia Earhart, the men swept overboard, Stevie) help you remember that these were real people with curiosity, grief, and romantic fantasies, not just names in an after-action report.

These are human beings. And you know who else is presented as human beings? The Japanese enemies and the Melanesian people who inhabit the Solomon Islands (where Guadalcanal is). They aren't just NPCs or faceless enemies. Messina talks about captured Japanese officers, letters found on bodies, and the simple fact that the men charging his lines are also scared, also hungry, also far from home. He notices the islanders who guide patrols, work as laborers, and try to survive a war dropped on top of their villages. Sometimes they are savvy allies, sometimes tragic bystanders caught in the crossfire. The book never turns them into stereotypes. Instead, it quietly reminds you that every uniform and every bare foot in that jungle belongs to a person with a story, even if we only glimpse it for a sentence or two.

There are scenes in which the slain Japanese soldiers have to be buried in mass graves, and they're referred to as "sneaky little bastards." It's strange how that sounds almost endearing and respectful in context despite the words being harsh. "Sneaky" can be interpreted as clever and cunning. "Little bastards" makes them sound smaller yet formidable, which they were.

Unfortunately, the Japanese soldiers are presented not just for their ferocity, relentlessness, and bravery, but also for the brutality that they've become infamous for (through the 30s and 40s). One of the most haunting scenes in the book is when James and the Marines come across a blackened and decomposed female body that they realize is a Catholic nun whom the Japanese viciously murdered along with other Catholic missionaries on the island. While it's haunting and tragic, it also leads to one of the most tender scenes in the book in which the Marines go out of their way to give her a proper, respectful Catholic burial. It is also notable that it is Sgt. Breeding, one of the more rough, tough, no nonsense Marines in the unit, who takes the lead in making the sign of the cross, organizing the little graveside service, and making sure she is treated with dignity. In a book full of artillery, ambushes, and disease, this quiet act of reverence stands out and shows how, even in the middle of a brutal jungle campaign, these men still carried a sense of mercy, faith, and basic human decency.

There are even times when they show decency toward the Japanese soldiers, particularly those they capture. One of these times comes back to bite them in arguably the book's most tense battle scene, but it is commendable.

It should be briefly mentioned that the Japanese are constantly referred to by the derogatory term "Japs" as was common lingo by Americans at the time. This might offend some readers, but it's raw, real, and honest to the time and context.

It's also interesting to hear James talk about the other enemies on the island: the wildlife (animals)! He describes flooded camps crawling with insects, including scorpions and nasty spiders, and swarms of huge mosquitoes that help spread malaria and make sleep nearly impossible. There are also giant land crabs skittering around the bivouac at night, bush rats that chew through everything, snakes coiled in the undergrowth, wild dogs, iguanas, and even crocodiles lurking in the rivers. By the time he is done describing all of it, you really feel like the Marines are fighting the jungle itself as much as they are fighting the Japanese, with every step and every night’s sleep turning into a struggle just to avoid being bitten, stung, or eaten alive.

Even the giant saltwater crocodiles, said to be up to 20 feet long and 2,000 lbs., are humanized a little. We're told that, despite their dangerous reputation and monstrous size, the crocodiles were never reported as having eaten a soldier. They were scared too, frightened by all the artillery explosions, bombs, and gunfire. It makes you think about who the real monsters are and how human beings and their conflicts can dramatically impact the environment and wildlife.

One last thing that's very fascinating is that James is able to bring us to speed on insider knowledge. For example, he picks up that a lot of the passwords/codes used by the military at the time used the letter L (like "Honolulu") because the Japanese had trouble pronouncing the letter L.

This is a thrilling, dramatic, heartwrenching, riveting real-life story and one of the best World War II books we've ever read.

We'd also like to mention how special it is that it was James Messina's "secret dream to become an author" which he gets to live now. He will soon be an award-winning author!

Check it out on Amazon!