by RNS | Oct 19, 2021 | Beating Tsundoku
Peter Hoskins, The Black Prince and King Jean II (Pen & Sword, 2020)
The Black Prince, heir to the English throne, and King Jean II of France met in Battle at Poitiers in 1356. This was a significant engagement in The Hundred Years’ War, a series of conflicts between France and England from 1337 to 1453. Peter Hoskins notes immediately how much the two men had in common, yet one emerged victorious while the other became a humiliated prisoner of war. His book attempts to answer why that happened with an emphasis on their generalship and character.
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This is a book in three parts. The first sets down the two biographies of the Black Prince and King Jean II. That provides the necessary background to follow Hoskins’ analysis while giving him the opportunity to prepare quick character sketches. Part Two describes the principles of war and command and leadership in the Hundred Years’ War. He starts that with a consideration of generalship and the conduct of war through the lens of Sun Tzu’s Art of War, which seems incongruous at times as Hoskins recognises in passing. He is on much firmer ground with Vegetius’ The Epitome of Military Science, and he just about skirts charges of anachronism with his third framework, the principles of war used by the modern UK forces. Command, Hoskins concludes, was the preserve of the nobility; commanders had to be courageous and disciplined, and they had to project their personality onto their armies, but that did not always guarantee competence.
Hoskins moves on to the campaigns of the Black Prince and King Jean II in Part Three. For the Black Prince, those were the expedition in France of 1355-56, leading to the Battle of Poitiers, and the 1367 campaign leading to the Battle of Najera in 1367. Jean comes under Hoskins’ microscope for the sieges of Aiguillon in 1346 and Breteuil in 1356 before bringing him to Poitiers and his fateful meeting with the Black Prince. Hoskins does all this in chronological order. At Aiguillon, for example, Jean lost focus on his primary objective, while on his 1355 chevauchee, the Black Prince demonstrated quite the opposite faculty, keeping his eyes on his prizes. The Battle of Poitiers – an event that occupies the central place in this book – emphasized the qualitative differences between the two commanders, Hoskins argues. He continues his narrative and analysis into the campaign of Najera in 1367 and the Black Prince’s last great victory. Hoskins concludes with his theory on the location of the Poitiers battlefield.
The Black Prince and King Jean II is an enjoyable narrative history with some cogent analysis of command in the Hundred Years’ War. His clear writing makes it easy to follow Hoskins through a complex period, and the double-sided biographical introduction is a clever way to lead into the heart of this study. There is perhaps too much narrative at times for some of the operations where more analysis would be welcome. The inclusion of the Najera campaign also felt unnecessary; the climax of the book is clearly at Poitiers. Nevertheless, Hoskins’ even-handed approach to his two major protagonists produces a balanced account that is well worth reading.
by RNS | Oct 16, 2021 | Beating Tsundoku
A Doomed Offensive
John Carr, Mussolini’s Defeat at Hill 731, (Pen & Sword, 2020)
The Italian invasion of Greece in 1940 was, at best, a disaster. There are very few parts of it that show the Italian Army in a good light, and the final offensive of that invasion is no exception. In this book, John Carr takes us through the final Operazione Primavera (Spring Offensive) that was carried out at Mussolini’s behest. It focusses on the fight for Hill 731, the key part of the Greek Defensive line some 20km north of Këlcyrë in Albania. The Italian plan saw the main strength of their assault fall upon a 6km long line of the Greek positions. This relatively small tome comes in at 213 pages long, with some black and white photographs and a rundown of the overall commands involved in Operazione Primavera.
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For being a short book there is a lot of detail, and the author’s prose brings that to life so that it never gets dull even when discussing the minutiae. The author has taken the source material and woven a story from it, not just a military history. He concentrates on the soldiers doing the fighting and their experiences whilst still providing the reader with the overall strategic view. Carr does an excellent job of discussing the Italian Army, highlighting their problems, of which there were many, without falling into the lazy trap of dismissing them as rubbish as so many people do. He does an even better job of piercing that stereotype towards the end of the book. There are also some nice personal touches of the more humane side of war taken from both sides.
It’s not all rosy in this military history garden; my main gripes are the lack of maps, and the ones that are there are flat. I am someone who needs detail in maps so I can try and understand the areas being talked about; with the maps provided, you would be forgiven to think the fighting took place on a plain as there are no topographical differences between Hill 731 and the Proi Math ravine. There is also no traditional bibliography in the book; the author makes the case that most the sources are in Italian and Greek, and provides some suggestions for further reading, but I would have preferred a full bibliography. The book is also told mainly from a Greek perspective; whether this is because of the available source material or the author’s bias is not clear, but some more balance would have been good.
This is a well written tale of a doomed Italian offensive in the Greco-Italian war. It has enough detail to satisfy most without the dryness such detail can often suggest. For me as a wargamer it has me wondering if I could recreate some of the fighting in a satisfactory manner. That might be difficult, but I do know I have the book I need if I want to do that. If you have any interest in this theatre of World War 2, then this book is probably a must have.
Reviewed by Dom Sore
by RNS | Oct 12, 2021 | Beating Tsundoku
Peter Ingman, South Pacific Air War Volume 4 (Avonmore Books, 2020)
This fourth volume of Peter Ingman’s series follows the action in the South Pacific from 19 June until 8 September 1942. If that isn’t narrow enough, Ingman focuses on the fighting over New Guinea, though other areas receive inevitable mentions. The detailed narrative that ensues is enhanced by Ingman telling the story from both sides.
Ingman begins with an overview of the Allied and Japanese forces and dispositions, the general background situation, and the tactics and strategies used. What is striking here is the lack of aircraft carriers in a theatre that would become dominated by them. Ingman begins his narrative with an account of night operations, then follows that with regional operations in July. Covering the Japanese landings at Buna comes next in the itinerary, along with the Allied opposition. Ingman detours to the Solomons before returning to New Guinea and intense Allied attacks on enemy bases in early August in the run up to the landings at Tulagi and Guadalcanal. When those assaults went in, the Japanese lost many planes attempting interdiction. The Japanese also did not know about the Allied airbase at Milne Bay until early August when it was already up and running. Ingman continues to describe operations in New Guinea through August, including the attempts by the Japanese to capture the Milne Bay base. The Allies, in turn, attacked the Japanese airbase at Buna with considerably more success. By September, notes Ingman, Japanese losses had greatly reduced their fighting capability. He concludes that a period that started with Japanese optimism, despite Midway, ended with their star falling despite the heavy losses they had inflicted on Allied aircraft and crews. He adds further details of losses on both sides in his appendices.
This slim but interesting volume includes colour maps, attractive colour plates of the aircraft, and monochrome contemporary photographs. The variety of warplanes used in this theatre is eye-opening, from heavy bombers, such as the B17s, to numerous different fighters, bombers, reconnaissance aircraft, transports, and the almost ubiquitous Japanese Zeros. That is also the case for the range of missions they conducted; bombing runs on enemy bases, of course, but also attacking ships and resupply drops. Ingman’s text is formed from lots of short paragraphs strung together in a detailed blow by blow account of operations with little room for analysis. It reads like reportage at times, but that also pulls you along as the action comes thick and fast. I enjoyed reading this more than I thought I would and came away with a new appreciation for how the air war was fought in this theatre.
by RNS | Oct 1, 2021 | Beating Tsundoku
Henrik O. Lunde, A Warrior Dynasty (Casemate, 2020)
Sweden has to have been one of the most unlikely military powers in history. It’s location in the far north hampered its development in both manpower and resources. Nevertheless, throughout the 17th Century, Sweden belonged in the higher echelons of European military powers. In A Warrior Dynasty, Henrik O. Lunde considers the reasons for Sweden’s rise and fall from 1611 to 1721 through the stories of the soldier kings responsible for it.
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Lunde immediately dispels the myth of historical Swedish pacifism: that is a relatively modern invention. He then surveys Swedish conflicts before the Kalmar War (1611-1613) and the accession of Gustav Adolf. That warrior king needs no introduction to military history students, but Lunde does his due diligence in following Gustav’s career, including his innovations and reforms that propelled Sweden into becoming a major force in the Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648). Indeed, Lunde places Gustav firmly within the Military Revolution of the 17th Century. Lunde takes us into the Thirty Years’ War with a focus on the campaigns of Breitenfeld (1631) and Lutzen (1632) where Gustav was killed characteristically leading a cavalry charge. The Swedes fought on in Europe for another 16 years, but their mantle of leaders of Protestantism passed to the French.
Karl X came to the throne in 1654 and Karl XII in 1697, and it was under those two kings that Sweden fought more significant wars – Karl XI reigned during more peaceful times, but also left his son a powerful army. Karl X was successful for the most part in establishing and defending Sweden’s Baltic Empire, including the spectacular March Across the Belts in 1658 to beat the Danes. Karl XII, however, is considered by Lunde to be Sweden’s greatest Vasa warrior king. When he ascended to the throne, the Danes thought this a good time to attack Sweden. They were wrong. Karl XII took the offensive, as he would do for most of his war-filled reign and crushed them. He turned his attentions to the Russians and battered them at Narva (1700) then the Polish-Lithuanians at Kliszow (1702). It was the turn of the Saxons in 1706. Karl XII attacked Russia in 1707, but after initial successes he lost disastrously at Poltava in 1709, changing the course of European history. After a period of exile with the Ottomans, Karl XII returned to Sweden, only to begin a new war with Norway in 1718 where he was killed by a sniper. Sweden never recovered from his loss. Lunde concludes by summarising his arguments over Sweden’s rise and fall, comparing Karl XII and Gustav, and deducing lessons for modern policy makers.
Although first published in 2014, this paperback edition of A Warrior Dynasty will make it more accessible to a wider readership. That is a good thing because this is a solid survey of Sweden’s most glorious century, militarily speaking. Lunde does a good job of clarifying a sometimes complex era, though he weakens his text at times by discussing his problems with sources and space. That aside, this is an interesting and engaging book that made me want to dig deeper into the warrior kings. Other readers of 17th Century warfare will certainly want this on their shelves.
