by RNS | Jun 16, 2022 | Beating Tsundoku
Mark Forsdike, The Malayan Emergency (Pen & Sword, 2022)
In the collapsing colonial world after World War II, Imperial victories did not come along too often. The French, Dutch, and British all suffered serious setbacks with the notable exception of the British defeat of the insurgency in Malaya in the early 1950s. In the latest edition of Pen & Sword’s Images of War series, Mark Forsdike takes us through the ‘crucial years’ of that conflict.
BUY NOW
Forsdike starts with the causes of the communist insurgency, which began, like so many revolutions in the Far East, in the turmoil of Japanese defeat in 1945. In a country of 80% jungle, Forsdike notes, defeating the insurgents was not an easy proposition, but the British and Commonwealth forces learned from their mistakes and found ways to win. The most successful battalion in rooting out the enemy, according to Forsdike, was the 1st Battalion The Suffolk Regiment, and it is that unit the author follows from 1949 to 1953.
The Suffolks arrived at Singapore in July 1949. They trained and acclimatized before embarking on active operations. Their first combat took place only a few weeks later. The battalion soon learned to adapt to the demands of jungle warfare. This didn’t just apply to tactics and survival, but equipment and weapons too. Making tea, however, was a constant. Forsdike describes the jungle conditions under which the men fought, reminding us that many of them were national service squaddies from urban areas. Though he includes a section on camp life away from the fighting, it was their success in combat that marked out the Suffolks, and most of the text and photographs follow them in the field. They took part in patrols in all sorts of terrain, and they laid ambushes, often aided by locals or ‘Ibans’, jungle fighters from Borneo. Intelligence, speed, and decisiveness often made the difference between success and failure. Sometimes the battalion took part in large operations, but most of their work was in small operations with a few casualties caused each time. The Suffolks lost 21 men in their time in Malaya compared to nearly 200 of the enemy. Inter-platoon competition in the Battalion made them more effective, and they were so successful that they had their tour extended by 5 months. Forsdike concludes with the soldiers leaving Malaya in 1953 and their continued brotherhood afterwards through regimental organisations.
The Malayan Emergency is a solid addition to the Images of War series. These books succeed on their combination of text and photographs, and Forsdike has managed both of those very well. He allows the men who fought to speak for themselves as much as possible, and he weaves that into the context of the conflict. The photographs are mostly of the men whose memories we are reading, but they also give an atmospheric account of the conditions and climate they endured, and Forsdike does not shy away from including images of death on both sides. The book suffers a wee bit from its focus on just the one regiment rather than the broader picture of British and Commonwealth involvement, and from Forsdike’s over-attachment to his subject, which enables him to gloss over some of the less flattering aspects of the British effort in Malaya, including the shooting of wounded insurgents. Nevertheless, this book works well as an introduction to the Emergency and provides a good feel for how that conflict was conducted.
by RNS | Jun 1, 2022 | Beating Tsundoku
Paul Johnson, The Brookwood Killers (Frontline, 2022)
In The Brookwood Killers, Paul Johnson stitches together a compendium of murderers connected by their names appearing on a WWII memorial at the Brookwood Military Cemetery. His objective, he states, is ‘simply to supply the reader with the details…’. His agenda, however, is rather different.
BUY NOW
Johnson begins with an overview of crime during WWII. He notes that reported crime rose 57% in those six years, fuelled by wartime restrictions. Johnson moves on to describe the process of execution and treatment of the executed bodies. He also remarks on the haphazard policies for commemorating servicemen convicted of murder – the ‘majority’ of their victims, Johnson fumes, lie in ‘unmarked graves [with] no formal recognition for them.’ Johnson arrives at the Brookwood Memorial and a list of 21 executed men; the list includes none above the rank of Sergeant, 15 were Privates or the equivalent, 6 were 21 years old or younger, and 3 were executed after the end of the War. Almost all were hanged (not ‘hung’ as Johnson repeatedly errs) except two killed by firing squad after courts-martial and one died by his own hand.
Other than a half-page conclusion, the rest of the book comprises short case-studies of the crimes for which the men were executed. These include a bigamist who murdered his baby, various sexually motivated killers, a drug dealer, an armed robber, a traitor, a jealous husband, a spurned lover, and a murder/suicide case. Other than being executed servicemen and appearing on the Brookwood memorial, they had nothing in common. Johnson’s structure for each case is the same: the location of the man’s name on the War Memorial, their service number and unit, and the date they were executed precede the account. Then Johnson describes the victim and assailants, how they came to commit their crimes, the investigation and evidence against them, the trial and sentence, and the aftermath if any – the exception is the treachery case of Theodore Schurch.
Johnson argues that despite his stated objective in just presenting details, this book is ‘an attempt to understand the circumstances, the actions and the outcome of a crime…’ But it is not: Johnson’s transparent agenda is to have the names of these executed men expunged from the Brookwood war memorial. He clearly resents them being included there, particularly when their victims are ‘often […] ignored or overlooked.’ Johnson deploys two intertwined and flawed methods to make his case. The first is to set up a false equivalency whereby no one visits the graves of the victims, but many people visit the war memorial and see these men’s names. It is false because there are 3,500 names at Brookwood; thus, the equivalency would be to argue that nobody visits the cemeteries where the victims are buried, which is highly unlikely. Some of the victims may also have been cremated or buried in pauper’s graves; just because Johnson does not know what happened, does not mean that others are equally ignorant. Moreover, at 80 years since the victims’ deaths, visits to their graves are likely less frequent than visits to a Commonwealth war memorial.
Appealing to his readers’ emotions is Johnson’s second method of bending the argument his way. He softens them up early by collating ‘murder, rape and mutilate’ and suggesting that war provided the ‘opportunity to seek out potential victims.’ A cursory glance at Johnson’s case-studies reveals that only a couple of these crimes fall into those two categories; the rest have tragic motives, but Johnson has already planted the image of the bloodthirsty killer seeking his chance to indulge his desires. As for the victims, Johnson’s introduction and several chapters conclude with the simple instruction: ‘Remember them.’ He reiterates that: ‘When you gaze upon the name of…spare a thought for them too’, as if somehow you are not already doing so. Johnson sometimes trips himself up with this mantra; for example, when he states in the case of Kitty Lyon that she ‘lies in an unmarked grave that has no visitors’, he has just finished describing her funeral ‘amid a mass of floral tributes…the sizeable congregation…at the grave a large crowd attended…’ Thus, Johnson does well to remind us of the victims, but they are not the sharp chisel he wants to use to eradicate the names of the executed. Then there is the inclusion of colourized photographs for victims, their assailants, and some locations. This is highly unusual for books on World War II, but it has the effect of making this all more current, to enhance the emotional impact.
To his credit, despite his shallow treatment of the sociological issues illustrated by his case-studies, Johnson just about manages to keep the lid on several cans of worms that once opened would produce a very different underlying narrative to his compendium. Scratch the surface of these stories and the brutality of the English judicial system in World War II lies exposed. Many of the juries recommended mercy for those they found guilty, but the judges donned their black caps anyway, and the Home Secretary backed the judges over appeals and petitions. Also evident are the backgrounds of some severely troubled men who were not allowed to go into combat but were able to come and go freely when it was clear that they should have been incarcerated or received treatment – despite the relative lack of mental health awareness, that is a telling factor. In addition, it is clear that race and ethnicity played a significant role in who lived or died at the hands of English wartime justice. Johnson includes the statistic that between 3 September 1939 and 31 December 1947, ‘at least’ 44 soldiers were executed for murder; 27 were colonial or native troops, including 3 Palestinian Arabs. The inclusion of some of them here is justified only because the executed men appear on the Brookwood memorial. A significant curiosity also appears, that again to his credit Johnson mentions; one-third of these case-studies relate to Canadian soldiers, which prompted a complaint during the war from a member of the Canadian judiciary, relating to the capriciousness in the way cases involving his countrymen were dealt with.
If reading compendiums of murders is something you enjoy, then Johnson’s book will appeal to you. But do not be fooled into thinking his gossamer threads of argument have any merit as they relate to who should be remembered and who should not, or how they are remembered. Johnson describes tragic events for all involved, but it does not take much digging to discover even deeper tragedies lurking in the undergrowth of these case-studies. A better book might have examined those as well.
by RNS | Jun 1, 2022 | Beating Tsundoku
Simon & Jonathan Forty, Artillery Warfare 1939-1945 (Pen & Sword, 2020)
With all the differences between the World Wars in terms of mobility and weapons development, it might come as a surprise to some that the most casualties in the European theatre in WWII were still caused by artillery. It was also a vital component in the Far East. To recognise this, Simon & Jonathan Forty have produced a photograph heavy survey of WWII artillery in seven chapters.
BUY NOW
The authors begin with a very useful glossary of terms you will encounter in the ensuing chapters and follow that with a quick history of heavy artillery leading into WWII, which has its origins in the Great War as you might expect. Then we are into the Field Artillery that came in various types to support armour and infantry. The authors take us on a tour of the main armies and how they used their guns, covering doctrine, organization, tactics, and combat environment, all with appropriate examples and accompanying photographs and technical information on the guns. The authors move on to self-propelled artillery. These were guns mounted on chassis for mobility and particularly useful for assisting armour. There is less meat in this chapter, but the authors still cover why and how the guns were used in different theatres.
With the proliferation of tanks in WWII came the need to stop them. That is the topic of the next chapter on anti-tank guns. This chapter is organised around some very interesting primary source observations and intelligence in addition to more excellent photographs. The other great technological development in WWII, alongside tanks, was air warfare. Here too, artillery was developed as a counter, which is the subject of chapter 4, including sections on AA machine-guns and AA vehicles. “Big Guns” are next up with descriptions and photographs of coastal and the always impressive railway guns. The authors take a brief detour into rocket artillery before finishing with a survey of artillery ammunition. The appendices describe observer methods, positioning guns, towing guns, and artillery in mountain warfare.
There is nothing particularly outstanding about this book, but it is a solid overview of artillery in WWII. The photographs are the standout attraction, but the authors’ use of primary source material is also useful for understanding this vital component of industrialized warfare. The book was enough for me as a passing WWII reader, but it is also a very good gateway book into further reading if you are so inclined.
by RNS | May 31, 2022 | Beating Tsundoku
Gerald Hough, Desert Raids with the SAS (Pen & Sword, 2021)
One of the reasons I think we study war is that conflict brings out the best and worst in those who fight. Take Tony Hough, for example; a man probably destined for an adventurous life anyway, but he and the adventure of war were made for each other, though as with all warriors, Hough paid a terrible price in the loss of friends and of his innocence – a worn cliché, but an apt one in Hough’s case. Desert Raids with the SAS is his story, told by his son.
BUY NOW
An excitable and youthful Hough had already joined the territorials when war broke out – ‘Suddenly life was full’. He joined the Scots Guards who were looking for skiers. Expecting to fight in Finland, Hough ended up in North Africa where he would make his reputation as a solid, dependable officer in the Rifle Brigade. Fighting the Italians with relative ease did not prepare Hough for the horrors of combat against the German blitzkrieg that enveloped and all but destroyed the British and Commonwealth forces. He took part in the Allied counter-attacks as a seasoned officer. In 1942, Hough’s battalion was disbanded, and he was invited to join the newly formed SAS.
Hough undertook his first SAS mission in November 1942, operating far in advance of the Allied army. But within a month, he was captured by the Italians and shipped to Italy in a submarine. In September 1943, Hough escaped his POW camp, then under German control. He and his comrade evaded the Germans by living in friendly houses and in a cave while they awaited the Allied advance up the peninsula. With the German heat ratcheted up where they were hiding, and his comrade missing after wandering down into the valley, Hough decided to make a run for it over the mountains. He crossed the lines with great difficulty and in terrible physical condition, but he made it – his comrade was captured and spent the rest of the war in a POW camp. Hough convalesced in Algeria and England before returning to his regiment. He ended his service as a mayor of a town in occupied Germany. Gerard Hough finishes his story with an account of his own travels to Italy to retrace his father’s footsteps, and the story of the German evacuation of the village his father hid in during December 1943.
This is a curious ‘memoir’ that is told in the first person by Hough’s son with some of his father’s original material mixed in. That makes some aspects historically suspect beyond the usual issues with memoirs and faulty memories, but the novelistic approach also makes for a riveting read. The story of Anthony Hough is one of extraordinary courage, not just on his part, but that of the men he fought alongside and the people who helped him on his remarkable journey to freedom. It is one that once read will not be easily forgotten.
by RNS | May 28, 2022 | Beating Tsundoku
Julian Romane, The First & Second Italian Wars 1494-1504 (Pen & Sword, 2020)
In this narrative history of the Italian Wars, Julian Romane promises a ‘chronicle of violence and passion, of ambition, achievement and death, of defeat and victory’. War, he argues, is a ‘drama of the human heart’. Yet, Romane acknowledges that this decade transformed Western warfare as military innovation integrated with the political-economies of Europe, providing the energy for future European expansion. Those are big boots to fill in under 240 pages.
BUY NOW
Romane’s narrative proceeds through small, subheaded sections that bring France and Italy into the mix and the ascension of the Borgia Pope Alexander VI – the Borgias run through this story like an irredeemably polluted river. Charles VIII’s invasion of Italy in 1494 kicks off the action. We follow him down through Italy while the Holy League organised some opposition. When they did, the two sides met at Fornovo in 1495, a major French victory. Charles VIII died in 1498, probably poisoned, according to Romane. The French throne fell to Louis XII. The wars continued.
Then we meet Cesare Borgia, the ‘Prince of Foxes’. He became the spearhead of Louis XII and the Pope in a campaign known as the Impresa. Romane describes Cesare’s mastery of artillery, manoeuvre, and training a disciplined army in the siege of Ravaldino in January 1500. A second Impresa brought the fall of Faenza, and a third, Urbino. Meanwhile, Louis XII campaigned too. His aim was Naples, and Cesare joined him. The campaign included the infamous sack of Capua, and Naples quickly surrendered rather than face the same fate. Cesare next took on a condottieri revolt and won in the cruel manner that made his reputation. He would fall, however, through an act of poisoning that killed Pope Alexander VI and left Cesare weakened. The new Pope, Julius II, despised the Borgias, making life more difficult for Cesare.
Enter Gonzalo Fernández de Córdoba, the great Spanish captain. His Spanish army struck in 1503, defeating the French at Seminara and Cerignola, then he conquered Naples and defeated the French at Garigliano. That forced the French to seek terms, bringing the wars to a temporary halt. In the middle of this Romane follows the adventures of the chivalrous page turned minor noble Pierre Bayard, that Romane suggests was the last of his kind, an anachronism on the eve of a new form of war.
Romane leaves much of the background knowledge that would be useful for understanding his narrative for a series of appendices on sources, Italy in 1490, the growth of finance, the development of gunpowder, Pope Alexander VI’s place in Church history, and the curious use of poison in the Renaissance. This seems to this reviewer as indicative of disconnects that run through Romane’s book. Some of the text is well-written, particularly his illuminating character sketches and scenes, but they are not helped by an often passively written narrative that hinders its flow – his reliance on subheadings does not help with that. Romane does untangle a complicated story and he makes the events easy to follow, but it feels like an opportunity missed: Romane’s style turns something potentially great into something good. Readers new to the early Italian Wars, however, will find this a good place to begin and perhaps that was all Romane set out to do.
