Saving the Unforgotten

Saving the Unforgotten

Justin Williamson, Son Tay 1970 (Osprey, 2024)
It sounds like a simple enough proposition; take some hand-picked men deep into enemy territory and rescue a few dozen prisoners of war. In 1970, the US military decided to do just that by staging a raid into North Vietnam to assault a compound at Son Tay. But that proposition was far from simple and would require a complex support operation as well as a clockwork attack on the compound. There was only one problem, but it was a big one.
Williamson begins with an overview of the increasing number of US POWs held in North Vietnam by 1970, their maltreatment, and the efforts to retrieve them. The US conducted aerial searches for POW camps and zeroed in on a likely candidate for a rescue mission at Son Tay, northwest of Hanoi. Williamson outlines the debate in the US military on how a rescue mission might be conducted. Once the army had decided how to do it, a force was selected, and training began on an audacious plan that required precision timing for the raid and the highest level of interservice cooperation and support. The US knew that Son Tay was a well-guarded compound with a secondary building nearby, which they were less sure about. Moreover, a late intelligence flight suggested that something was ‘off’ about Son Tay, but by then, the mission was set to go. On the following night, 21 November 1970, the green light was given.
The mission consisted of one team on a helicopter that would crash land inside the compound before they assaulted the guards and rescued the POWs, while the rest of the teams landed outside the compound to provide support and interdict any rescue attempt. Meanwhile, the Navy and Air Force would conduct diversionary bombing missions and provide air cover. The plan was executed almost perfectly despite a couple of hiccups that usually happen on night-time missions. However, the biggest problem the rescuers found was that there was no one to rescue! The POWs had been moved months before the mission. It was a frustrated raiding party that flew home, though thankfully with no casualties other than a broken ankle and general disappointment. They returned to a political firestorm over the raid and its apparent failure, but the military view was that while this might have been an intelligence failure, it was worth the effort for morale purposes and to show it could be done.
Justin Williamson tells a fascinating story, and an important one in the development of special forces operations. In a relatively slim volume, he covers all the bases very well, though I would have liked to see more first-hand accounts from those involved. He is supported by the customary high quality Osprey maps and artwork; the latter being atmospheric rather than informative, but the illustrations fit the text. Readers of the Vietnam War and special operations will enjoy this very much.

Communism’s Eastern Flagbearers

Communism’s Eastern Flagbearers

Benjamin Lai & Zhao Guoxing, Ground Forces in the Korean War 1950-53 (1) (Osprey, 2024)
It is often called the Forgotten War, the clash of communist forces against the United Nations forces in Korea between 1950 and 1953. Far from being a marginalised story in our history books, however, this war was often a desperate struggle with enormous consequences for the political alignment in the Far East after World War II. But what of the soldiers who fought this war? In this Osprey Men-at-Arms series volume Benjamin Lai and Zhao Guoxing survey the North Korean People’s Army and the Chinese People’s Volunteer Army.
The authors trace the origins of the KPA to before World War II, though it became a fully recognised army in 1948. The KPA was heavily backed by the Soviet Union, which was reflected in their organisation and weaponry; it only used T-34 tanks, for example. The KPA’s tactics were not just the ‘meat waves’ you might expect, according to the authors, they used infiltration, concealment, and envelopment to ‘squeeze’ the enemy to disintegration. For communications, KPA soldiers used white flares and bugles because they lacked radios, the psychological impact on the enemy was a bonus. The authors describe the initial offensive by the KPA in the Korean War as a ‘blitzkrieg’. They overwhelmed surprised Republic of Korea units, but they in turn were surprised by General MacArthur’s Inchon landings and were destroyed partly by air power but also through lack of supplies and inadequate training. After their collapse, the KPA rebuilt successfully, though that took time, and by then, the Chinese had taken over the communist war effort. The Chinese People’s Volunteer Army (PVA) did not lack for soldiers, but it needed Soviet air support and armour. Nevertheless, this was a disciplined army that surprised the UN forces, argue Lai and Guoxing. They too lacked some logistical support, and it was June 1951 before they received their trademark padded uniforms and ushanka hats. The PVA tactics were similar to the KPA, with emphasis on striking vulnerable points and getting into the rear of the enemy. Despite massive casualties, the PVA were not afraid as some on the UN side expected they would be, conclude the authors, and the Chinese learned on the job to become a formidable adversary.
As with most of Osprey’s Men-at-Arms series, this one provides an informative narrative context and covers all the basics for the uniforms and weapons of the soldiers. The standard insertion of colour illustrations of the soldiers helps as does the descriptive text that accompanies the numerous photographs running through the text. Wargamers and modelers interested in the Korean War will enjoy this book and will surely look forward to the rest of the series.

The Blood-Sport Fighters

The Blood-Sport Fighters

Francois Gilbert, Gladiators 1st-5th centuries AD (Osprey, 2024)
Attending a gladiator fight was a Roman’s favourite activity, according to Francois Gilbert. Watching two men fight in peculiar armour, and carrying strange but lethal weapons, excited them like nothing else. In some ways, it still does, and many of our blood sports echo those ancient combats. But the gladiator shows, while standardised to some extent, changed with the times over the Imperial period. Francois Gilbert’s new book describes the games and the people who often risked everything in the name of entertainment.
Gilbert begins by discussing Augustus’s reforms of the gladiator system, bringing it under imperial control. Marcus Aurelius in the mid-2nd Century instituted reforms that made gladiatorial combat less lethal, but that only lasted until the reign of Commodus who ushered in an era of severe brutality. Valentinian ended gladiator games in the early 5th Century. From that overview, we can see that gladiator fights were subject to evolution and change. That applied to almost every aspect. Gilbert moves on to the gladiators. Unsurprisingly, most of them were slaves or the condemned. However, there were volunteers and even some all-female fights took place. Whatever their origin, gladiators were subject to severe discipline, though they were otherwise well treated and well fed, according to Gilbert. The different types of gladiators follow. There were fifteen specialities armed and equipped to provide balanced match-ups in the ring. Gilbert works through them, describing how they fought and how they changed over time. A thorough survey of clothing, including armour, and weapons concludes Gilbert’s book.
Gilbert’s survey of Imperial gladiators is entertaining and informative, and sometimes surprising. He covers all the bases readers will need to develop a more nuanced understanding of this bloodiest of all blood sports. Gilbert also provides a useful bibliography for those who want more. Moreover, the source photographs and artistic renditions of gladiators fit the text like no other Osprey book I have read – figure painters will love this book. My quibbles were the author referring to previous books he has written and a lack of conclusion to wrap things up, but those are minor issues. If you are interested in gladiators, you will enjoy this book.

Fighting Old School

Fighting Old School

Mark Lardas, Warships in the Komandorski Islands 1943 (Osprey, 2024)
Naval warfare changed irrevocably during World War II as air power came to the fore, particularly in the Pacific theatre. Surface engagements still took place, though mostly at night when warplanes could not operate effectively. The battle between US and Japanese ships that took place near the Komandorski Islands on the morning of 26 March 1943 was, however, an exception to the rule. In this Osprey book in the New Vanguard series, Mark Lardas takes us inside a fascinating fight and an implausible American victory.
The battle of the Komandorski Islands occurred against the backdrop of Japanese efforts to resupply its forces in the Aleutian Islands. In March 1943, the Imperial Japanese Navy escorted transport vessels on their resupply mission, while a US force attempted to intercept them. Lardas compares the technical aspects of the two fleet of cruisers and destroyers, noting that the Americans had radar – the IJN did not – and superior damage control processes; both would prove crucial for the outcome of the battle. The Japanese heavily outnumbered the Americans, but that did not prevent bold action by Vice-Admiral McMorris to go after the transports. The firing started at 06:40, but it soon became clear that McMorris had bitten off more than he could chew, but while he succeeded in deterring the transports, he decided to withdraw behind a smoke screen, resulting in a running fight as the Japanese pursued. However, after nearly four hours, the Japanese turned away, fearing a potential US air assault. McMorris was lauded for his victory in preventing the Japanese resupply, while the Japanese Vice-Admiral Hosogaya Boshiro was shamed and demoted for his ’cowardice’. Lardas notes that although thousands of rounds were fired along with many torpedoes, few direct hits landed and there were very few casualties. He concludes that the Americans benefitted from radar and superior damage control but ultimately luck was on their side.
This a slim volume on a relatively small fleet action, but Lardas provides useful insights into WWII naval warfare. He illustrates how confusion and partial knowledge affected decisions and outcomes, and how accidents and misunderstandings could prove potentially fatal for ships in combat. Lardas’s account is detailed, and Osprey’s artwork and photographic illustrations assist his text, though there is no graphic map, which felt odd for this kind of book. This is a quick but informative and entertaining read that will appeal to anyone interested in the Pacific theatre and WWII naval warfare.

The Worst of the Worst

The Worst of the Worst

Prit Buttar, Meat Grinder (Osprey, 2024)
Most readers familiar with the Eastern Front in WWII recognise the catastrophes of Stalingrad, Leningrad, and Kursk. But in this noteworthy narrative history, Prit Buttar takes us into the Rzhev Salient, an otherwise unremarkable place that will be remembered for being among the worst of the worst European battlefields.
Buttar works his way from the broad invasion front in June 1941 and the German thrust towards Moscow to the creation of the Rzhev Salient in the wake of their rebuff. This was a miserable land by any measure, a place of dark forests and dank swamps that favoured the defensive. But as far as Stalin was concerned, the salient pointed at Moscow and had to be eliminated, while Hitler refused to countenance retreat. Given their rigid demands, it was a recipe for savagery and slaughter on an awesome scale. Buttar narrates the Soviets battering the salient relentlessly, with the Germans counter-attacking whenever ground was lost. Along the way he describes, among other factors, the role of intelligence, the plight of civilians caught in the maelstrom, the problems of fighting in extreme weather conditions, the misfiring Soviet airborne operation, partisan warfare, cavalry operations, and the problems of logistics and command and control. Ultimately, the Soviets failed to erase the salient; it would be the Germans that chose to leave to cover other problems on the Eastern Front. The butcher’s bill was fearsome, with Soviet casualties at over 200,000 and the Germans around 45,000. Buttar concludes with chapters on the lessons learned and then unlearned on both sides and the mostly Soviet historiography of the battle that does not quite fit the evidence, for understandable reasons.
Meat Grinder is an outstanding example of modern military history. Buttar is an accomplished story-teller who seamlessly weaves his analysis into the narrative. He handles his sources particularly well wisely penetrating the cloud of propaganda to explore the realities of the battle as it unfolded. Moreover, while most of the narrative is at the operational level, Buttar does not lose sight of the men on the ground doing the fighting, incorporating many examples of deadly combat endured by ordinary soldiers. This is the Eastern Front, though, and probably fought on unfamiliar territory for many readers who might want to keep a detailed map of the region handy to follow along. That quibble aside, Buttar’s book is highly recommended for anyone interested in understanding the Eastern Front.