by RNS | Apr 29, 2024 | Beating Tsundoku
Nikolaos Theotokis, Airborne Landing to Air Assault (Pen & Sword, 2020)
Jumping out of a slow moving aeroplane and drifting to the ground under enemy fire takes a different kind of mentality, the bravery is a given. Perhaps that is why military history students find the paratroopers so fascinating? Nikolaos Theotokis surveys the history of paratroopers from their origins in World War I through the Gulf Wars and Afghanistan, and their geographical spread across the continents. He stops along the way to narrate specific operations that illustrate this mode of taking the fight to the enemy, usually behind their lines.
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The ‘heyday’ of military paratroopers was World War II with the Germans, British, and Americans to the fore. But many other nations deployed paratroopers; the Poles, Canadians, Japanese, and Soviets might be expected, but Finland, Serbia, Romania, and Peru might not. Similarly, Theotokis narrates the major paratrooper actions of WWII, including Crete, Normandy, and Arnhem, but he also describes lesser known missions, such as those undertaken in the Pacific Theatre. The use of gliders and airborne units deployed on the ground are included in these examples. Along with ‘regular’ paratrooper units, Theotokis adds special ops and parachute use by Airforce personnel, usually from burning planes, and the dangers that entailed.
It is apparent from Theotokis’s survey that while parachute missions declined after WWII, the use of paratroopers in combat did not. Indeed, it would be difficult to think of a post-WWII conflict in which they were not used. Theotokis considers the major actions, such as Suez, French Indochina, and Korea, alongside less familiar actions in, for example, Aden, The Congo, and the Dominican Republic. He explains that part of the reason for the reduction in parachute missions was the increasing use of helicopters to take men into battle, and nowhere was that more evident than in the Vietnam War. Thus, with helicopters, we are fully into the air assault phase of airborne warfare. Theotokis notes, however, that improving transport plane capabilities renewed parachute drops, notably in Afghanistan. He concludes that the days of elite soldiers parachuting into combat are not yet over.
Surveys like this one can often be dry and dusty reads, but by emphasising what paratroopers have accomplished over the bare bones of unit histories, Theotokis has written an engaging and informative book, which is full of wee surprises mixed in with more familiar history. Moreover, there is enough meat in here to make you want more, and Theotokis hits that mark with an excellent bibliography that will have military history students reading happily for quite a while. My only real quibble is the inclusion of peripheral forces such as special ops and an odd chapter on pilots and aircrew, where more room could have been made for combat descriptions or primary source material from regular units. Set that aside, and this is a solid military history of very brave soldiers.
by RNS | Apr 15, 2024 | Beating Tsundoku
Mel Kavanagh, Hitler’s Spies (Pen & Sword, 2020)
In July 1940, Adolf Hitler all but dismissed any ideas of peace with Britain and gave the green light for an invasion, Operation Sealion. All branches of the German military had their doubts, but German intelligence, the Abwehr, had to prepare the way for the invading forces, and to do that they needed to send spies. That set the platform for Operation Lena. In this detailed and fascinating account, Mel Kavanagh narrates that story.
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Kavanagh introduces the major players tasked with establishing a network of spies in Britain at very short notice. They include the well-known Jodl and Canaris, but also lesser lights such as Herbert Wichmann, Nikolaus Ritter, and Walter Praetorius. The ’Brussels Four’ is Kavanagh’s main focus: Charles Kieboom, Carl Meier, Sjoerd Pons, and Jose Waldberg. He provides potted biographies of them, noting that only Waldberg had any intelligence experience. After introducing a timeline of the war to July 1940, which runs through the narrative, Kavanagh returns to his theme with the spies in Brussels for training and planning for their missions to England. When they were deemed ready, the four set off in small boats on 3 September to spy for Hitler. It would not go well.
Pons and Kieboom were caught almost immediately on landing, Meier soon afterwards. The resultant flurry of activity by the British army ensnared Waldberg, and all four were soon in the hands of MI5. Kavanagh follows the investigation conducted in the shadow of an impending German invasion. The men were sent to Camp 020 where they were reticent to cooperate because they expected a German invasion but did so anyway. Kavanagh includes transcripts of interrogations and secret taping, revealing many interesting aspects of the intelligence war in the process. Kavanagh then works his way through the trial, verdicts, the fates of the spies, and the aftermath of the whole affair, including investigations into other spies, potential and real. He concludes by noting that Operation Lena was a waste of time and epitomised ‘woeful German planning’ and British vigilance. The Brussels Four were also a mine of information for MI5. Why the Germans sent such inept spies remains an open question.
Hitler’s Spies is an odd espionage story in that very little spying took place. Indeed, the incompetence of the spies that Kavanagh highlights bordered on the unbelievable at times. That Kavanagh could write a book packed with information on the Brussels Four and their miserably failed mission is quite impressive in itself. That said, there is a sense of missed opportunity in how Kavanagh wrote this story. Where he just narrates events, Kavanagh writes well, but too often he produces documentary evidence into his text that would have been better placed in the footnotes or appendices. Kavanagh’s attempt to connect the spy story to wider wartime events is also well-meaning but falls flat. Too often such interpolations fracture the narrative and eventually becomes mere noise. That is unfortunate because Kavanagh has a genuinely interesting story to tell, and readers interested in the intelligence war in World War II will take much from it.
by RNS | Apr 2, 2024 | Beating Tsundoku
Stephen Barker, The Flying Sikh (Pen & Sword, 2022)
Hardit Singh Malik was one of 1.3 million Indians that served in WWI. But he was a trailblazer, the first Indian fighter pilot in the Royal Flying Corps and a commissioned officer, despite facing resistance from within the British establishment and among his fellow pilots. He was arguably the most famous Indian combatant of the war and went on to become a distinguished diplomat after it. In this truncated biography, Stephen Barker examines Hardit’s formative years and his role in the Great War.
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Barker narrates Hardit’s upbringing from his birth in Rawalpindi in 1894 through his early years that shaped his identity and values. He completed his schooling in England then attended Oxford University from 1912. Barker notes the emergence of Hardit’s physical and character attributes, both found in his ability as a cricket player – he played for Sussex. But war loomed and the storm broke in August 1914. Barker highlights the ambiguity many Indians felt at supporting the Imperial war effort, but Hardit had no doubts and tried to gain a commission almost immediately on the outbreak, though he failed and opted for Law School. He then accepted an offer to serve with the Croix-Rouge française in the summer of 1915 and embarked for France as an ambulance driver in June 1916. It was here that he took an interest in flying.
After some bureaucratic wangling to allow a Sikh to serve in the RFC, Hardit began his formal training in March 1917. Barker follows him from cadet through to receiving his wings in July then onto more training with specific aircraft. In September, his squadron received Sopwith Camels, one of which Hardit flew to France to begin his combat career. That took place over the muddy battlefield of Passchendaele and his first ‘kill’ came almost immediately on 20 October, though he crashed on return to his aerodrome. He also was not credited with his victory. Barker narrates in some detail an intense dogfight a few days later in which Hardit made his first official kill but was wounded and spent two months in hospital. He returned to his squadron in Italy, but three weeks later, he left for England because of an allergy to Castor Oil! He still flew but remained behind the lines until October 1918, now a commissioned officer. When peace came, Hardit travelled back to Rawalpindi to a celebrity’s welcome. Barker follows Hardit into the immediate post-war amid the turbulence of Indian politics. Hardit left the RAF in August 1919, by now a married man, and entered the Indian Civil service. He would go on to have a stellar diplomatic career. Barker’s conclusion examines Hardit in the context of post-war Anglo-British relations and how he succeeded throughout his life with the British where so many had failed.
In Stephen Barker, Hardit Singh Malik has found a biographer worthy of his distinguished life. Barker does an excellent job of setting Hardit into his personal, familial, and political contexts. In particular, Barker highlights the prejudices ranged against Hardit and how he overcame them. He deploys Hardit’s autobiography as the backbone for his narrative but builds on a solid academic base of books and articles to establish the context and the veracity of Hardit’s memories. Barker also concentrates on Hardit’s early life and career as a pilot, which some biographers might have diluted in taking a longer view. Military historians will enjoy this biography as will readers of modern Indian history.
