The Cinderella Front

The Cinderella Front

Philip Jowett, The Battle for Burma 1942-1945 (Pen & Sword, 2021)
Philip Jowett argues that Burma was a strategic sideshow with the main Allied purpose of keeping Nationalist China in the war. The Japanese too fell into this country that held no strategic value to them. But the intense and sustained combat that ripped through this theatre belied Burma’s importance. In this photograph heavy account, part of Pen and Sword’s Images of War series, Jowett takes us on a wild ride along the Cinderella Front.
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Jowett is keen to point out how massive and inhospitable Burma was with mountains, jungles, and monsoons to contend with along with the constant struggle against various diseases. And it is with that in mind that he begins his narrative with the Allies having retreated into India and China in 1942, and the Japanese in full control of Burma and ready to jump forward again into India. The Allies, however, were intent on recovering Burma. Thus, Jowett describes a series of offensives, including the Arakan – one failed, one successful – Chindit and Marauder operations behind enemy lines, and the over-optimistic 1944 Japanese offensives on Kohima and Imphal that ended in disaster. The subsequent Allied pursuit of the Japanese proved relentless, even through the monsoon and across many swollen rivers, until Mandalay fell in March 1945. That opened the road to Rangoon on the coast, which proved to be Japan’s last major holdout in Burma. Jowett also considers the air war, which like all other aspects of war in this theatre, had swung towards the Allies by the end of 1944.
The Battle for Burma is thicker than the usual Images of War series books. That is mainly because of the numerous excellent photographs that accompany Jowett’s engaging text. A second unusual feature is the amount of combat photographs Jowett includes, which are mostly from the Allied side, as you might expect, but also some from the Japanese perspective. Jowett also highlights the roles of the Chinese Nationalists, Americans, Indians, East and West Africans, and native Burmese, illuminating the joint Commonwealth and Allied war effort that it took to defeat the dogged Japanese. As an avid reader of the Burma campaigns, I thoroughly enjoyed this book and learned a lot from it.

The Hard Men

The Hard Men

W.B. Barrett, Vikings – a History of the Northmen (Amberley, 2019)
(Guest Review by Dom Sore)
Books about the Vikings are many and varied, covering the minutiae of archaeological finds through to sweeping epics covering all aspects of Viking life and everything else. Where does this tome from W B Barrett fall? Towards the ‘all aspects of life’ but it isn’t an epic. Coming in at 432 pages, it is no small book, but it does purport to cover the whole of Viking history. It does this via thirteen chapters that split that history into easily digestible parts.
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There is a lot of information to cover when you talk about the Vikings, and Barrett tries to do that without bogging the reader down in too much technical detail. What you do get is a fast-paced journey through Viking life from prehistory to their “demise”. You will learn about some of the lesser known characters and the possible origins of some of the more well-known characters, looking at you Ragnar Hairy pants and Ivarr the Boneless. Speaking of Ivarr the Boneless, it seems there is a lot of evidence for his existence and the Boneless may refer to something a little more risqué than you would expect.
Where the book suffers is in providing a lot of disparate details without their connections, sometimes leaving more questions asked than answered –now and then you want that extra detail about specific instances. For example, the Viking origins of the Normans are almost skimmed over and not explored; that also happens for the circumstances surrounding the Hebridean, Shetland, and Orkney communities. This is combined with a lack of editing; there is occasional repetition and random addition of information. The prime example of this is the passage about Tryggve Olafsson, which ends with a paragraph regarding the minting of coins in Dublin likely using pillaged dies. These missing links between passages and sections are quite common.
The book is a decent primer for Vikings, and if that is all you need, this will suffice. It is easy enough to read, if somewhat repetitive, and it is somewhat Anglocentric. There are no glaring errors, but having the end of the Viking age concomitant with the death of Harald Hardrada at Stamford Bridge in 1066 will not sit well with many. Where the book does excel is in providing a potted history of the Vikings from start to end without getting stuck or missing any major parts out.

Booth’s Folly

Booth’s Folly

Andrew Abram, For a Parliament Freely Chosen (Helion, 2021)
Sir George Booth launched his rebellion against the Rump Parliament on 1 August 1659. He had 4,000 men with him in Cheshire and expected others across England to join in; the auspices looked positive for success. Within 24 days, Booth was isolated, defeated in battle, and captured trying to escape disguised as a woman. What happened? Andrew Abram is here to tell us while putting Booth’s Rebellion in the wider context of an England in turmoil and on the cusp of revolutionary change.
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Abram sets out his stall by surveying Cheshire after the First Civil War, from 1646 to 1650. This was a turbulent period of local political conflict and many old wounds remained open. The 1650s were, of course, the years of Cromwell’s Protectorate. In Cheshire, Abram reviews the settlement of the militia who fought for Cromwell in the Scottish invasion of 1651. The rest of the decade is highlighted as one of discontent within the county, particularly among dispossessed Royalists and disaffected Presbyterians, and Cromwellian attempts to smooth things over. Out of this emerged Sir George Booth, a man acceptable to both Royalists and Cromwellians, though not without suspicion.
1659 proved a pivotal year for the governance of England. This is where Abram focuses next in a contextual chapter that leads into Booth’s rebellion. Abram describes the rebellion’s strategy, leadership, and cohesion as Booth led his small army to Chester from Warrington to begin his campaign. Unfortunately for Booth, Parliament had been tipped off. Moreover, Abram argues that Booth lacked experience of military command and made significant mistakes, one of which was to expect a general uprising. That never materialised, and to make things worse, Major General John Lambert was on his way from London with a sizeable force. Abram detours from his narrative to describe Booth’s army, which he estimates at about 4,000 with the usual mix of trained and raw troops, some motivated and others pressed into service. Abram then turns to the Council of State’s reaction in London, which was to send the troops under Lambert and from other places, most notably Ireland. That brings both sides to the Battle of Winnington Bridge. This was as one-sided as battles get, and it seems that only Lambert’s restraint prevented a general massacre. The perpetrators of Booth’s rebellion got off light in the subsequent turmoil that led to the Restoration. Booth spent some time in the Tower of London but was released to play his role in Charles II’s return. Abram ends his story there but adds some appendices for primary documents and an excellent bibliography.
On reading For a Parliament Freely Chosen, there is no doubt that Abram is an expert in his field. He displays this through the detailed narrative and analysis he presents on every page and the manner in which he switches seamlessly from local to national themes. Abram is also persuasive that Booth’s Rebellion was a nationally significant event. He gets into the weeds at times, as you might anticipate in such a detailed work, but he never loses his readers in doing so. Abram’s book is part of Helion’s Century of the Soldier series, meaning that the production quality in illustrations, maps, and general presentation are what we have come to expect. Overall, not an introductory book to the Civil War era, but enthusiasts will certainly enjoy reading this.

Pirates or Privateers?

Pirates or Privateers?

Brian Best, Elizabeth’s Sea Dogs and their War against Spain (Frontline, 2021)
Pity Elizabeth. In 1558, she inherited a State on the edge of chaos after the bipolar years of Mary and Edward. Religious strife dominated the national conversation. Elizabeth would try to steer a middle line, but the Catholic King of Spain was having none of it. That said, the impoverished Elizabeth had no qualms about trading with Spain’s possessions in the New World, and that commerce would soon enough turn to piracy, thanks to Elizabeth’s Sea Dogs.
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Best demonstrates the vulnerability of Spanish commercial traffic lanes from almost their inception. The Dutch and French picked Spanish ships off with ease and attacked their settlements. Elizabeth wanted a piece of the action. She gave Letters of Marque to a group of captains of small, fast warships, which authorized them to attack Spanish ships, these were the Sea Dogs. Best describes these ships and introduces us to their captains.
First up is John Hawkins. He began his naval career as a merchant, making himself wealthy through the slave trade in particular. He was soon fighting the Spanish, however, on the Queen’s behalf, though certainly not without incidents that Best relates with relish. Hawkins’ career blossomed until he rose to become the head of Elizabeth’s Navy Council and appointed Rear-Admiral to fight the Spanish Armada in 1588. After an interlude to discuss the adventures of some English sailors left behind in South America, Best turns to the story of Francis Drake. He served with Hawkins, but his most famous exploits came with his own command. Those included his circumnavigation of the world, an event that receives three chapters from Best. Thomas Cavendish also attempted to sail the globe. He too attacked the Spanish but dies off Ascension Island.
Best next considers other privateers and military commanders in shorter biographies, including John Oxenham, Richard Greenville, Thomas Stukeley, John Norreys, Christopher Carleill, Walter Raleigh, Humphrey Gilbert, Michael Geare, Christopher Newport, Martin Frobisher, George Clifford, and William Monson, all of whom might merit a full biography. There follows an oddly placed chapter on the execution of Mary Quen of Scots, then Best jumps back a year to Drake’s attack on Cadiz. The defeat of the Spanish Armada is up next, told from English and Spanish perspectives, and the disaster that ensued around the coasts of Scotland and Ireland. Short chapters on the deaths of Drake and Hawkins, the fall of Cadiz, and the end of the Sea Dogs era close Best’s book.
Rather like some of the voyages he describes Best’s book on Elizabeth’s Sea Dogs is an uneven journey. He sails through the stories of Hawkins and Drake in well written chapters, but rather than expand on some of the other adventurers in Elizabeth’s navy, Best chops through them to make room to describe events, minor and major, and the head-scratching chapter on Mary’s demise. Best’s structure also strains under his material, which skips around the chronology at times. Taken as a whole, including the unsatisfactory bibliography, Best’s book doesn’t quite work, but if treated as episodes then Best tells some exciting tales of high Elizabethan adventure and you can skip the rest.

The T-34 Hunters

The T-34 Hunters

Pierre Tiquet, German Tank Destroyers (Casemate, 2021)
In German Tank Destroyers, Pierre Tiquet surveys the machines that served one purpose and the men who fought in them. It is a story of German ingenuity and adaptation, albeit in a losing cause.
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Tiquet begins with a timeline of major operations where tank destroyers were involved, then moves into his introduction of these weapons. He points out that the Germans needed a motorized anti-tank force rather than rely on cumbersome manual operated guns often pulled by horse teams. That necessity led them to manufacture anti-tank guns on existing tank chassis. These became heavier weapons as the war developed with the need to deploy heavier guns against heavier tanks. And with that explained, Tiquet examines the tank destroyer variants as they entered the battlefield.
The Panzerjäger Ente, Marder II, and Marder III are first in Tiquet’s catalogue. He describes the Ente as a ‘doughty little tank destroyer’ but it had issues, as did all the earlier models, the most obvious of which was the lack of protection for the crews. The Marder II and III had bigger guns and proved successful in all theatres, but it was tall and presented a juicy target in the open. Effective camouflage was therefore essential, and Tiquet includes some excellent photographic examples of this. Tiquet continues with the Dicker Max and the Sturer Emil. These had greater range and better optics but were heavy and only a few were built. The Hornisse/Nashorn carried the much feared 8.8cm gun on a Panzer II/IV chassis., but it too was heavy and suffered from transmission problems. Designed at the request of Heinz Guderian, the Hetzer solved the high profile problem of previous tank destroyers, and the Germans produced 2,700 of them from April 1944 to May 1945. The appropriately named Elefant comes next in Tiquet’s review. It was a massive beast with an 8.8cm gun, and highly successful in combat, but it weighed 68.65 tonnes and suffered from mechanical problems. The final tank destroyer under review is the Jagdpanzer IV with its sleek profile and long 7.5cm gun. Tiquet concludes that the German tank destroyers were developed in reaction to enemy tank development. The Hetzer and Jagdpanzer were the best of them, but they came too late to change the tide of war.
While German Tank Destroyers falls into the category of ‘illustrated books on war’ with lots of useful photographs of the machines, Tiquet’s text stands up well. He provides the technical details, as you might expect, but includes lots of testimony from the crews that served in the tank destroyers. He also adds sections on some of the major engagements where they fought. As for the photographs, they are mostly of abandoned machines, particularly those from the Battle of the Bulge, but there are also shots with proud crews and vehicles in transit, and they all tell a story. World War II vehicle enthusiasts will enjoy this, of course, but so will readers interested in combat experiences during the war.