by RNS | Sep 27, 2024 | Beating Tsundoku
Grant T. Harward, Romania 1944 (Osprey, 2024)
You would not envy Romania’s position on the eve of World War II. Staring into the maw of Stalin’s Soviet Union, Romania turned to Nazi Germany as the best way to defend itself. By 1944, that seemed to be an unfortunate decision, and the vicissitudes of war would drive Romania into Soviet hands anyway. Explaining how that came about is Grant Harward’s task in this enlightening book in Osprey’s Campaign series.
Romania was hugely important to Germany in the east after joining the Axis in November 1940. Indeed, Romania participated in Operation Barbarossa from the beginning. It also joined in the attempted extermination of Jews in Romania and lands it helped capture from the Soviet Union. They also provided oil to the Germany army in the east and facilitated other logistical support. Despite that, all was not well in the alliance, particularly after Romania lost thousands of soldiers at Stalingrad. Romanian peace overtures to the western Allies, however, were rebuffed; they would only allow Romania to speak to the Soviet Union. The Soviets would come knocking soon enough.
Harward turns to the First Iasi-Chisinau Offensive. This was a Soviet attack on the Germans in March 1944 that reached into Romania to knock them out of the war. This went well at first, argues Harward, but soon ran into trouble as the exhausted Soviets pushed the Germans and Romanians back onto their supply lines. Allied aerial bombing swung the tide, however, and catastrophe loomed for Romania. Harward leaves us on the cliffhanger and turns to the opposing commanders, including King Mihai I of Romania and other Romanian leaders, the Germans Johannes Friessner and Otto Wohler, and the Soviet Marshal Timoshenko and General Malinovsky. From there, Harward considers the forces involved on the ground, including orders of battle, and their strategic plans. Then we are into the decisive campaign.
In August 1944, Harward begins, the Germans and Romanians knew a renewed Soviet offensive was about to hit them in Romania but took little action to meet it. On 19 August, the tempest struck, and by that afternoon, the Axis forces were in deep trouble. Harward narrates the hammering the followed as the Soviets battered the outnumbered and outgunned Axis forces. In the background, King Mihai I plotted a coup to leave the Axis and join the Allied effort to oust the Germans from Romania. At the front, despite German denials, the Axis forces were collapsing amidst divisions amongst the commanders and politicians. On 23 August, the king made his move, deposing the government, ending the alliance with Germany, and preparing to make a deal with the Allies. The Germans counter-attacked in Bucharest, but their operation failed. Romania declared war against Germany on 25 August. The Romanians and Soviets dismantled the German forces in Romania, though they had to contend with joint German-Hungarian forces attacking in Transylvania. The Soviets pushed forward, occupying Romania who paid a high and lasting price for their armistice and peace. For Nazi Germany, however, the second Iasi-Chisinau offensive was a catastrophe. Harward adds an interesting postscript, highlighting how this offensive is remembered across the three modern-day countries where it was fought: Ukraine, Romania, and Moldova.
In Romania 1944, Grant Harward illuminates an often overlooked theatre of World War II. It is no easy task to sift a coherent narrative from the chaotic political and military events involving three nations, but Harward smoothly navigates the turmoil. The Eastern Front was also a gargantuan affair involving millions of men fighting on a scale that is difficult to comprehend. Harward’s engaging text, however, simplifies without being condescending to his readers, aided by Osprey’s exemplary graphics and illustrations. This book will appeal to the casual World War II reader and any student of World War II looking for a gateway into a complex subject.
by RNS | Sep 21, 2024 | Beating Tsundoku
John Pike, The Thirty Years War (Pen & Sword, 2022)
There are wars and complex wars, then there is the Thirty Years War fought between 1618 and 1648. This was a multi-faceted war for the religious, political, and economic control of Europe, a war that would create nations while diminishing empires and ending the dreams and ambitions of many a prince and lord, and a war that would usher in early modern Europe. Explaining all that would be some undertaking for any historian, but John Pike goes further to place this war in its global context. It is quite the journey.
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Pike gets off to a good start by placing his general maps up front, which is a blessing for a war such as the Thirty Years War. The text begins on familiar ground with the defenestration of Prague in 1618. Then Pike lays out his groundwork with an extended description of the Habsburg supremacy and the challenges it faced, both internally and externally. The Thirty Years War exposed both, beginning as a civil war then connecting to other conflicts to create a global conflagration. Pike continues with his background, folding in the major players and characters while embarking on his narrative of events. This is mostly straightforward military history, but Pike deftly mixes in economic, logistical, and political factors. He is aided in this by adding regular (idiosyncratically drawn) maps, and he uses subtitles, which act as very useful signposts for this complicated journey.
About half-way through his narrative, Pike turns to the global aspects of the Thirty Years War. This was an age of burgeoning global networks and budding imperialism. Pike also notes that the war against the Habsburgs had begun decades earlier but continued into the war years. Thus, we find the war spreading to Asia and the Americas where the ‘only law was naval power’, a military arm in which the Dutch excelled against the more powerful Spanish and Portuguese. Pike returns to Europe and a stalemate that fostered revolutions, such as the Catalan Revolt of 1640-1642 and the secession of Portugal. Almost all wars end with a settlement acceptable to all parties, but with seven primary participants in the Thirty Years War, this proved easier said than done. Pike notes that diplomacy continued during the war, but only as the war moved into its third decade did it gain a true foothold. A new generation of leaders entered the scene, which unblocked the political situation, aided by the crushing military victories at Rocroi and Tuttlingen in 1643. Exhaustion played its role too, with the Holy Roman Empire unable to field a decent army in 1645 to protect Vienna. By then peace was firmly on its way, bringing a cessation to hostilities in October 1648 through the Treaty of Westphalia. In his lengthy postscript, Pike analyses modern Europe, and its roots in the Westphalia treaty, and what that means going forward for the EU.
The Thirty Years War can be a dry and dusty subject to read, and it is easy to get lost in often kaleidoscopic sequences of almost simultaneous events and the people who participated in them. Pike’s account, however, is well managed and written with a public readership in mind. His narrative is easy to follow, and while the main thread is the military campaigns and battles, Pike effortlessly includes many of the other economic and political factors that facilitate warfare. He also embroiders small but colourful details into his text, such as the botched execution of Cinq Mars, dying bravely without a blindfold. Pike wisely adds plenty of maps to assist his readers. The inclusion of the postscript, connecting the Thirty Years War to the modern EU, felt like an unnecessary addition, but it was not intrusive. Overall, a thoroughly enjoyable book that casual readers will enjoy just as much as serious students.
by RNS | Sep 15, 2024 | Beating Tsundoku
Mark Stille, Japanese Combined Fleet 1942-43 (Osprey, 2024)
For casual World War II readers, the naval Pacific War began with Pearl Harbor followed by Midway, then the US Navy swept the Pacific, making relentless progress until the Japanese surrendered. But, as Mark Stille points out in this new book in Osprey’s Fleet series, the Japanese fleet proved to be a determined enemy in the pivotal battles around Guadalcanal and the Solomon Islands from August 1942 through 1943.
Despite their successes in the South Pacific in early 1942, the IJN suffered from internal division amongst its commanders and with the army. Admiral Yamamoto got his way to prioritise an attack on Midway, but the IJN was still active in the South Pacific. That brought them into action when the US attacked Guadalcanal. The IJN won at Savo Bay, lost at Cape Esperance, then won their only carrier victory at Santa Cruz. Although, they won again at Tassafaronga, the tide had turned against the Japanese, and they evacuated their forces from Guadalcanal. Stille moves onto the Solomons campaign, with the IJN operating a degraded fleet stretched by supporting two campaigns in New Guinea and the Solomons. The latter campaign did not go well mainly because of US air superiority flying from carriers and island bases. A surprise attack by US carrier aircraft on an IJN fleet at Empress Augusta Bay in November 1943 forced an end to IJN operations in the Solomons.
With the narrative of operations in his wake, Stille turns to the IJN ships that fought in them. He notes that the IJN was numerically superior in August 1942, except for the vital carriers, but by the end of the Solomons, it had lost its numerical and qualitative advantage. Reflecting the changing nature of naval warfare, Stille begins his overview of the fleet with the carriers then the battleships. The heavy and light cruisers are followed by the destroyers, the most important ships during this period for their versatile capabilities, though the IJN lost many of them in combat. Stille moves on to technical factors such as gunnery, anti-aircraft weapons, torpedoes – arguably the best in the world – and aircraft.
When it comes to assessing doctrine and command, Stille argues that Admiral Yamamoto’s reputation as a great admiral is undeserved. When he was killed in April 1943, Admiral Koga took command. He was fixated on fighting a decisive battle, though one never materialised. The IJN was reorganised for that purpose and specialised in night-fighting, especially using torpedo attacks. The Japanese also adapted their carrier tactics after the disaster at Midway. Submarine tactics lagged behind these new developments. Similarly, the IJN disregarded the importance of intelligence with some ugly outcomes, particularly at Guadalcanal. Logistically, notes Stille, the US swamped Japan because they simply produced more ships and had more tankers, the lack of which affected IJN operations. Stille also provides brief overviews on the major IJN bases at Truk and Rabaul, including their strengths and weaknesses. Finally, Stille surveys the fleet in combat, including the engagements at Savo Island, the Eastern Solomons, Cape Esperance, Santa Cruz, Guadalcanal, Tassafaronga, Kula Gulf, Kolombangara, Vela Gulf, Vella Lavella, Empress Augusta Bay, and Cape St. George. He brings that all together in a cogent analysis of the IJN operations, arguing that they performed well enough under increasing US pressure while being let down by Yamamoto’s poor decision making.
Mark Stille’s book is another fine addition to Osprey’s Fleet series. This passage of the naval war in the Pacific is usually told from the American side, and we read about the evolution of the US Navy and an inevitable victory. But Stille flips the script, examining the IJN contribution to the sometimes intense combat that characterised this period. He attacks some long-held beliefs along the way while effectively analysing the IJN in a concise and cogent manner. He adds a nice wee bibliography for those that want to take a deeper dive into the subject. Stille’s engaging text is well supported by Osprey’s usual high quality graphics and illustrations. This is a book for the casual reader with enough bite to satisfy the enthusiast.
by RNS | Sep 12, 2024 | Beating Tsundoku
P.J. O’Gorman, Britain & Rome (Pen & Sword, 2022)
Did you know that Tacitus’ writings were a fake? And those of Cassius Dio? Agricola didn’t exist, nor did Boudicca and her destruction of the fake town of Camulodunum. They are all fictions, part of a Renaissance fraud perpetrated by the Roman Catholic church in an attempt to control classical history and thus establish Papal supremacy in northern Europe and England. Rather, P.J. O’Gorman argues in Britain and Rome, the only true history of Britain between the invasions of Caesar and Claudius is a Brittonic source as viewed through the lens of Geoffrey of Monmouth.
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O’Gorman’s opening shots are fired at the traditional narrative of Julius Caesar’s invasions. He argues that Britain was a wealthy trading island providing support to Gaul against Caesar. The Britons were certainly well organised enough to send Caesar packing on his first attempt. But that was diversionary, according to O’Gorman, the second attempt would be a proper invasion of conquest. But it too failed, despite Caesar claiming otherwise. With that, O’Gorman turns to the sources that lie at the heart of his thesis.
We owe our accepted understanding of the sources for early Roman Britain to the Renaissance, O’Gorman posits. He focuses on Tacitus and Dio and their inconsistencies, which have largely been ignored. Tacitus, and how we came to know his work, is first on O’Gorman’s chopping block. We know very little about the historian and almost all of his work stems from discoveries in the Renaissance – the Agricola dates to 1476. Dio too was not discovered until the Renaissance. Neither of them had been heard of before that period. O’Gorman concludes that ‘Tacitus and Dio are unreliable; they are fabrications…’. The 6th Century Anglo-Saxon historian Gildas, on the other hand, becomes the first identifiable British historian, and O’Gorman puts much stock in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia, stemming from a 5th Century Brittonic source. Having established his thesis, O’Gorman sets out to prove it.
O’Gorman begins his journey into the Brittonic source with an examination of the British royal lineage, comparing that evidence to Caesar’s Commentaries. This goes well until O’Gorman finds that Boudicca was a ‘fictional queen of the Iceni’ invented during the Renaissance. Nevertheless, O’Gorman sticks with his thesis that the Brittonic source is the most reliable account of British history during this period, complementing Caesar and Suetonius in crucial details. O’Gorman turns his attacks on Cassius Dio, the traditionalist’s historian for the Claudian invasion, who he finds inauthentic, while Tacitus is again dismissed as fictitious. Returning to Dio, O’Gorman argues that his work on Roman Britain was plagiarised from Caesar and Seutonius. He then explains why Dio and Tacitus only appear in the Renaissance. O’Gorman sets that up against a background of mediaeval intrigue, the restoration of papal supremacy, and the establishment of the Renaissance as a ‘perverse propaganda programme’.
Turning to the archaeology for the Claudian invasion, O’Gorman notes that what we think we have revolves around Dio’s ‘imagining’. But O’Gorman finds no evidence for Dio’s Claudian arch and castigates those who do, or think they do. He also attacks interpretations of inscriptions and numismatic evidence; the latter O’Gorman mostly puts down to Renaissance forgeries. Returning to Dio’s writings on Claudius’ invasion of Britain, O’Gorman maintains that it is ‘bogus’ and that Dio is a ’lazy and blatant’ plagiarist who replaces Caesar with Claudius and embellishes the rest of the story. O’Gorman argues also that the Roman town of Camulodunum is another Renaissance fiction.
To find a reliable account, O’Gorman turns once again to Geoffrey of Monmouth’s transcription of the Brittonic source. Here we find a very different account of Claudius’ invasion, one in which Claudius was forced to use diplomacy rather than conquest and Rome did not subjugate Britain at all despite maintaining an army on the island. They were there, according to O’Gorman, only to facilitate a trade deal. He then discusses the evidence from Juvenal alongside Seutonius, amongst which he claims Nero lost Britain. A consideration of Claudius’ daughter, Antonia Augusta, follows, which is pivotal to O’Gorman’s argument regarding a marriage treaty rather than conquest.
O’Gorman turns his fire on modern Roman historians. He rejects the concept of Romanisation and those who perpetuate it through nepotism and ‘blinkered beliefs’. He provides a ‘genealogy’ of Oxford classicists and calls them a ‘band of brothers’ preventing progress in this field. O’Gorman attacks their continued belief in Tacitus and Dio and labels their work as ‘indoctrinated ignorance’. He then rehashes his arguments over Tacitus and Dio, pointing to the Brittonic source as the ‘guiding light’ for understanding Britian and the Romans. This also requires a reassessment of the available archaeology, including Fishbourne Palace, Winchester and its treasure, the ‘red herring’ of Camulodunum, Glevum, and coin volume and distribution. O’Gorman also finds no evidence for the traditionally held campaigns from 43AD to 60AD, including the Boudiccan rebellion. He goes on to say that academics have now accepted that the evidence weighs against the traditionalist view. O’Gorman’s final chapter regurgitates his reconstruction from his evidence. His appendices are comprised of extracts from Caesar, Suetonius, and other sources he deems relevant to support his case.
It’s not often that you read a book where the aim is to bring down a whole field of study along with its most acclaimed scholars. But that is O’Gorman’s purpose in Britain & Rome. His effort, however, falls flat for various reasons. First, he has to knock out the twin pillars of Tacitus and Cassius Dio, but he does so by deploying a fundamental flaw that runs through the book: the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. This doesn’t just apply to those two historians, O’Gorman argues that other historians, such as Suetonius, would have mentioned things if they had happened; but Suetonius didn’t, so they didn’t. It’s a weak line of reasoning to underpin O’Gorman’s thesis. Moreover, O’Gorman misunderstands the role of plagiarism, applying modern values to ancient historians who routinely drew on other sources to tell their stories or bolster their arguments and thought nothing of it. In addition, O’Gorman’s selection of archaeological evidence omits some peculiar examples, the most glaring of which, to this reviewer, is the absence of discussion on marching camps – if the Romans did not conduct military expeditions into the interior of Britain, what function did the camps serve? However, setting his argument aside, the most unedifying aspect of O’Gorman’s diatribe is the tone he uses, which is often disrespectful, dismissive, and sarcastic, as if he knows that the evidence he musters cannot hold the water he wants it to carry, so he has to attack his opposing historians, both ancient and modern. It’s all very distasteful and unbecoming of a serious historian as O’Gorman purports to be. This is all rather unfortunate because there is an argument to include the Brittonic source in the discussion of the early Roman contacts with the Britons, be they peaceful or otherwise, but O’Gorman chooses not to engage in any meaningful or respectful way with his peers or forbears. All in all, Britain & Rome is a wasted opportunity, a flawed thesis written with unwarranted venom.
