Call it the Television War. For six weeks in 1991, images of the war in Iraq danced on America's TV sets, and we were led to believe that the GIs fought it by sitting at computer monitors and firing missiles at the Iraqis far, far away. It was a new kind of war, mudless and bloodless - a videogame war.

Do not believe it. The real war in Iraq was as hellish as anything in The Red Badge of Courage or The Naked and the Dead - the GIs were wet and cold, uncertain and scared, and yet, through it all, courageous and compassionate, but TV wasn't there to report it.

John Sack was with the GIs throughout the war. In America, he lived with the soldiers of Company C as they trained for D-Day in Iraq. He was with them in their homes, their churches, their drinking, dancing, and stripper clubs, and he was still with them as they invaded Iraq in sixty-ton tanks. He was with them at the biggest tank battle in American history - the only reporter who was.

But in Company C John Sack doesn't write about himself or of units, munitions, and tactics, the alphabet soup that other war stories drown in. He writes of people, of boys in their teens and twenties who knew they might die (and, almost as bad, might kill), and became men in one hundred wild, hair-raising hours.