Scarce and precious are those individuals who through words and pictures can describe life-changing experiences so that people at all levels can understand and identify with those involved. Such a literary artist was the late Bill Mauldin, who during World War II provided text and cartoons that won prize after prize and became classics. Mauldin with his exceptional talents told us all a lot about ourselves and how we perform in times of terror and trouble.

Bill Mauldin, who died at age 81 in 2003 after a struggle with Alzheimer’s disease, featured two Army infantry “dogfaces,” Willie and Joe, in graphic, soulful cartoons. Drawings and comments he made nearly 60 years ago in his wartime book, “Up Front,” are no less appropriate for today’s combat troops.

Periodically we read about “analysts” and public figures who visit sites of turmoil and try to tell the stories as they see them. Yet there is a vast difference between today’s “embedded” journalists and politicians and the Bill Mauldins and Ernie Pyles who chose to slog along in harm’s way, shoulder to shoulder with the genuine heroes.

It is so easy for so many of us to criticize and denigrate what the people representing us are doing. War is an ugly, dirty, miserable way of doing business. Many wonder if the United States and its allies could have won World War II as quickly as they did if there had been constant television coverage as we have today.

What operations were “atrocities” and which were tactical and strategic successes? Who did right and who did wrong? How many died or were wounded by friendly fire; how many Americans were massacred by Germans and Japanese — and visa versa? There are countless grays between the blacks and whites of any given scenario.

There are perceptions at home about what is going on, what should happen, and notions in administrative circles about the nature of things. Times have not changed. Check what Mauldin commented at one point in his incomparable book, “Up Front,” which focused on our operations in Europe:

“Many celebrities and self-appointed authorities have returned from quick tours of war zones (some of them getting within hearing distance of the shooting) and have put out their personal theories to batteries of photographers and reporters. Some say the American soldier is the same clean-cut young man who left his home; others say morale is sky-high at the front because everybody’s face is shining for the great Cause.

“They are wrong. The combat man isn’t the same clean-cut lad because you don’t fight a (German) by Marquis of Queensberry rules. You shoot him in the back, you blow him apart with mines, you kill or maim him the quickest and most effective way you can with the least danger to yourself. He does the same to you. He tricks you and cheats you, and if you don’t beat him at his own game you don’t live to appreciate your own nobleness. …

“But you don’t become a killer. No normal man who has smelled and associated with death ever wants to see any more of it. In fact, the only men who are even going to want to bloody noses in a fist fight after this war will be those who want people to think they were tough combat men, when they weren’t. The surest way to become a pacifist is to join the infantry.”

Consider the young Marine who was criticized so unfairly recently for shooting a possible retaliant in the takeover of a mosque. The events beforehand had left every American on the scene wary of “wounded” and “dead,” who had a way of rising and striking mortal blows. Under the circumstances, the young man did what most of us would to be sure he could protect himself and his comrades.

One needs to reread some of the Mauldin, and Pyle, writings to understand what wartime combatants face and why they act as they do. While “outside” reviews may be in order, nobody put it better than one World War II warrior who said without a blink: “If you’re not there, you can’t really judge.”