by RNS | Oct 31, 2024 | Beating Tsundoku
Keith Coleman, Áedán of the Gaels (Pen & Sword, 2022)
The term ‘Dark Ages’ is no longer fashionable. Post-Roman Britain is now the pre-medieval era, which seems a bit dry and academic for a period full of mystery and legend. Take, for example, Áedán mac Gabráin, who was crowned king of Dál Riata, ‘the uniquely divided kingdom’ split between northern Ireland and Scotland’s west coast in the 6th Century CE. Áedán fought campaigns from Orkney to the Isle of Man and into the heartlands of the Picts. His name is inextricably connected to St. Columba of Iona, and he was the first king of Scotland. In this fascinating book, Keith Coleman separates the history of Áedán from myth and legend.
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Coleman begins by stressing the paucity of evidence we have for the life of Áedán. But we know quite a lot about where he came from: Dál Riata, a kingdom with lands in Scotland and Ulster. Áedán rose to power in 574, aged 40, but little is known about him before then. Coleman – as he does throughout his biography – pulls together what threads we do have and combines them with our contextual knowledge to create a coherent and convincing picture of a warrior and diplomat emerging from often chaotic times. Coleman also highlights Áedán’s mutually beneficial connections to St Columba although the relationship had not started well. The author reaches into his imagination along with the historical context to discuss Áedán’s inauguration, stretching the clues to produce a plausible scenario while presenting credible alternatives. Coleman turns to Áedán’s military record, spending some time on his campaigns on the Isle of Man and his diplomatic operations in Ireland, including the Convention of Druim Cett. Áedán and his sons also fought notable campaigns against the Picts and the Britons. Áedán’s last battle came at Degsastan in 603, to which Coleman devotes a chapter. Defeat there, Coleman speculates, may have led to Áedán’s retirement and retreat into a religious life as old age took its toll. Coleman concludes by examining Áedán’s sons, his legacy, and his legend.
It is clear from the beginning of Coleman’s investigation that we know very little about Áedán with any certainty. The King of Dál Riata is an elusive figure, reigning in the shadows of the Dark Ages. To his credit, Coleman avoids presenting certainties, choosing to weigh the available evidence while guiding the reader through what we know, and more importantly, what we do not. What emerges is a warrior-king, as we might expect, but also a skilled diplomat. Coleman also successfully places Áedán in historical context, painting a more complete picture of post-Roman Britain than the evidence probably warrants. Anyone interested in the Dark Ages and the formation of Scotland will find Coleman’s book informative and entertaining.
by RNS | Oct 21, 2024 | Beating Tsundoku
Brian E. Walter, The Longest Campaign (Casemate, 2020)
Discerning readers of World War II know about the importance of the naval war in the Atlantic, a titanic struggle between German U-boats and the Allied navies protecting vital convoys. In this excellent survey, however, Brian Walter reveals that there was far more to naval operations around Britain and Europe’s coasts than guarding merchant ships and hunting submarines.
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Walter is quick to point out that in the beginning of the war there was no ‘Phoney War’ at sea to match that on land. Already, the British and Germans recognised the importance of Britain’s Atlantic supply lines, where U-boats hunted down convoys and the Royal Navy tried to fend them off. Walter highlights, however, that the Royal Navy was also involved in attempting to deter then counter the German invasion of Norway. Then came the successful evacuation of Dunkirk and prevention of a German assault on Britain. Germany seemed ascendant in its offensive operations, but in Spring 1941, that changed when the RN sank five U-boats and the German battleship Bismarck. Britain also cracked the German naval codes, and US assistance in the Atlantic began to pay off. Walter follows the back and forward struggle through 1942 and into 1943, when Allied improvements in technology, tactics, and numbers in the Atlantic started to pay off. By the end of that year, the Germans were firmly on the back foot. That trend continued into 1944, with the RN and RAF sinking German battleships to protect Arctic convoys, while the RAF also bombed industrial facilities to retard German production and maintenance. Both were heavily involved in the D-Day landings that the Germans did not have the maritime power to interdict. With the Allies driving across Europe, German naval options deteriorated under incessant attacks and catastrophic losses in ships and working ports. The German war effort at sea had all but collapsed by 1945 and the war’s end. Walter concludes that while most attention in the naval war has been on the Pacific and Mediterranean, it was the ‘long and gruelling slog’ of the Atlantic War that determined Allied victory. The British played the largest role in that, though Walter points out this was the Royal Navy’s swansong.
The Longest Campaign is an ambitious effort to present a comprehensive overview of the naval war effort in northern European waters and the Atlantic. Walter succeeds admirably, at least for this reader with a working knowledge of the period. I came away from this book with a better understanding of not only naval operations but also how they were integrated into the broader sweep of the European theatre. The text is a bit dry and dusty at times, with the inclusion of material better placed in the footnotes or appendices, but Walter livens up the text with some narrative detours into specific operations, such as the ‘channel dash’ by the Germans in February 1942. Overall, this is a survey that covers more than the basics while providing a solid platform for further reading.
by RNS | Oct 5, 2024 | Beating Tsundoku
Robert Kershaw, Dünkirchen 1940 (Osprey, 2022)
For many, the evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force from Dunkirk in May 1940 was one of Britain’s greatest military achievements. Far from being an ignominious defeat, Dunkirk became a symbol of lion-hearted determination and a great victory in the words and images of propagandists. Some more recent historians have essayed a ‘we got lucky’ thesis, blaming Hitler’s inexplicable decision to halt the panzers on the verge of seizing Dunkirk and bagging the BEF and French armies. To become better informed, we need to know what was happening on the German side. Robert Kershaw’s Dünkirchen 1940 could well provide the answers we seek.
Kershaw begins on the eve of the German invasion of France, with the panzers ready to roll; their mission, to drive to the sea, splitting France into two and capturing the allied armies in a vice. Kershaw makes clear, however, that while the Germans progressed at a rate beyond their wildest dreams, this would be no cakewalk. Problems surfaced at the highest levels with divisions in command, which caused confusion down the chain. Some gung-ho panzer commanders did not help as they charged forward, leaving the plodding but vital infantry and artillery lagging in their wake. Kershaw also rehabilitates the reputation of the Belgian army, much disparaged by others for their surrender at a critical time as the net closed in on Dunkirk. As for capturing the town of Dunkirk, the German experiences at Boulogne and Calais demonstrated how difficult that might be, and ultimately was. Moreover, with the Allies trapped in Dunkirk, the besieging forces were pared down to continue the attack on the rest of France. The Germans stuck to their task, however, despite increasing attrition and exhaustion and ultimately succeeded in battering their way into Dunkirk. By then, the British and a considerable number of French had escaped.
Dünkirchen 1940 is a remarkable achievement. Kershaw weaves analysis and narrative of land, air, and sea operations into a coherent story that, if not definitive, will be high on the list for future historians of this vital campaign. Kershaw also tells the story from multiple perspectives, from Hitler to his generals and officers down to the ordinary soldiers fighting in the dunes around Dunkirk. The effects of Germany’s blitzkrieg are told in candid comments from the allied soldiers under relentless attack – I actually came away from this book with greater admiration for the efforts made to rescue allied soldiers from Dunkirk. For those interested in the Dunkirk campaign and the early war, this is a must read book, but anyone interested in military history will gain much from it, not the least of which is an enjoyable read told by an excellent storyteller.
by RNS | Oct 2, 2024 | Beating Tsundoku
Moisés Gaudêncio and Robert Burnham, In The Words of Wellington’s Fighting Cocks (Pen & Sword, 2021)
The Anglo-centric view of Britain’s involvement in the Napoleonic Wars has been waning for many years now. Waterloo, for example, is framed in terms of an Anglo-Dutch victory by many students of the wars. And a greater spotlight has been shone on the Spanish and Portuguese contributions in the Peninsular War. But we still don’t know all that much about them, at least in the Anglophone world. For the Portuguese, though, now we do thanks to this book of collected source material capably handled by Moisés Gaudêncio and Robert Burnham.
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Gaudêncio and Burnham note that by 1812, forty percent of Wellington’s army was Portuguese, and that their accounts of the war alter the traditional perception of events. It was the authors’ mission, therefore, to describe what the Portuguese did from the Portuguese perspective. They begin with a history and overview of the Portuguese army leading into 1812 followed by a survey of the British officers that, for the most part, commanded the army. Then we are into the narrative, beginning with an overview of the annual campaign of 1812 then the major events of that campaign – this sets the pattern for subsequent chapters. In 1812, for example, we have the Battle of Salamanca, the Siege of Burgos Castle, and the Retreat to Portugal. Within each event, the authors outline what happened before gathering together all the reports with brief introductions and some added source material from different vantages to add colour. The chapter for 1813 includes Vitoria and the Siege of San Sebastian, while in 1814, the Battle of Toulouse is covered. Those major events are linked by a host of smaller engagements. The authors also include casualty tables but, unfortunately, no maps, which can be found on a linked website. Two appendices contain biographies of many of the officers whose reports we have read in the main text.
There is a prodigious amount of source material in this book that will certainly change future histories of the many events under examination. Gaudêncio put the effort in, spending three years in the Portuguese military archive to bring his sources to light. That in itself should tell you how valuable his work is to our understanding of the Peninsular War. I’m not sure that this is a book to read in one sitting unless you are deep into the Peninsular War; the reports are sometimes a wee bit dry and dusty, and they can become repetitive. Nevertheless, dipping in and out of particular events, perhaps in combination with the maps on the website, is illuminating. I would like to have seen more ‘ground level’ contributions, but there are some mixed in, and I read this more as a source book that future historians will build on, so I’m not complaining. Military history students, and particularly those who study the Peninsular War, will greatly appreciate this addition to their library.
