by RNS | Jul 6, 2025 | Beating Tsundoku
Mark Lardas, US Navy Atlanta Class Light Cruisers 1940-49 (Osprey, 2025)
Imagine being a Japanese pilot in 1943 attempting to sink a US aircraft carrier, but there is a cruiser in the way, and it is throwing an awful lot of lead up at you. If that cruiser was an Atlanta class, you would probably be rethinking your career choice. This was one of the USN’s most effective anti-aircraft ships, and Mark Lardas tells us about them.
So much of the origin stories for warships in World War II lay in the restrictive naval treaties of the inter-war years. This was particularly true for the development of cruisers. For the US, that led to the introduction of the multi-mission Atlanta class, weighing in at about 7,400 tons and festooned with weapons. Lardas highlights the criteria for the new Atlanta class ships: tonnage and speed, with armament a lower priority. He notes that the biggest weakness was instability because of their high smokestacks and stacked gun batteries. The Atlantas carried the most effective dual-purpose guns of WWII, the 5in./38cal DP guns, in eight turrets, supplemented by 1.1in and Oerlikon 20mm close-range guns, Mk15 torpedoes, and twin depth charge racks placed at the stern. The US built four Atlantas then almost immediately ordered four more as the Oakland subclass, which were orientated more towards the anti-aircraft role. The USN then built the Juneau subclass based on lessons gleaned in the Pacific Theatre. These were pure anti-aircraft ships with many changes but still based on the Atlanta design. Lardas also illustrates the changes to the ships throughout the war, which made no two of them quite the same. Eight of the Atlantas served in the Pacific, with two, the Atlanta and Juneau, being sunk off Guadalcanal. Throughout the war, however, they fulfilled their purpose of throwing lots of lead into the air to foil Japanese aircraft. Their post-war service was short-lived in the new jet aircraft generation; one fought in the Korean War while some remained mothballed through the 1950s before being scrapped.
Lardas has written an informative survey on a very useful class of ships, even though they excelled in a role for which they were only partly designed. He is ably supported by Osprey’s usual high quality graphic design and selection of photographs. It is unfortunate that none of these elegant ships survive, but Lardas’s history of them adequately keeps the Atlanta class from being forgotten. Anyone interested in the USN during the Pacific War will appreciate this book.
by RNS | Jul 4, 2025 | Beating Tsundoku
Angus Konstam, Second Sirte 1942 (Osprey, 2025)
The Gulf of Sirte was the north-African terminus for Axis supplies from Italy. The British had to interrupt that supply line, but to do that effectively, they had to protect their bastion of Malta, which they also had to supply. Thus, two supply lines crossed, and whoever controlled them would win the war in the Mediterranean. In his latest book in the Osprey Campaign series, Angus Konstam argues that the British problem was greater because the Axis controlled the skies and operated from home bases. In December 1941, a British convoy got through to Malta, just. In March 1942, they tried again despite being outnumbered and outgunned.
Konstam sets off the Battle of Second Sirte against the backdrop of the continuing struggle for control in the Mediterranean. That had favoured Britian, especially after the victory over the Italians at Matapan in March 1941. Then came the German invasion of Greece and the Allied loss of Crete with significant losses to the Royal Navy. The pendulum had swung, with the German luftwaffe in particular causing the British headaches. The Italian fleet was also still powerful, despite their losses in the raid on Taranto, but the RN held the advantage in radar, deterring the Italian fleet from nighttime engagements. Still, getting convoys through to Malta was imperative however risky that would prove to be, especially during the day.
Admiral Sir Andrew Cunningham commanded the Mediterranean fleet, with Rear Admiral Sir Philip Vian his able subordinate. The Italian Regia Marina was commanded by Admiral Angelo Iachino assisted by Ammiriglio di Divisione Angelo Perona, but both laboured under restrictive orders from their superiors in Rome. Konstam discusses the disparity in the respective fleets, noting that the RN was deficient in carriers, battleships, and heavy cruisers, and what they had was not all that great. But the RN had radar, effective gunnery, and professionalism, whereas the Regia Marina had the resources but not the wherewithal on how to use them effectively
Konstam moves onto the action after describing the respective battle plans, which amounted to the British moving a convoy over 900 miles, and the Italians, with German luftwaffe and U-boat assistance, trying to stop them. The convoy sailed on Friday, 20 March 1942, but did not see serious action before Sunday morning. Then the air attacks and the Italian fleet arrived to which the RN countered with a wall of smokescreen. The fleets exchanged gunfire, broke off, manoeuvred, then engaged again in a sprawling melee fought at times in near gale-force conditions. In the end, the Italian fleet turned for home as night fell. Despite constant air attacks, most of the convoy made it to Malta. However, they were still not safe from the luftwaffe, which sunk or damaged all of the ships.
The story of the Battle of Second Sirte is a confusing one, but Konstam narrates it well, and along with some excellent maps, brings clarity to the combat. Konstam not only coordinates the action but brings out the reasons why the battle transpired as it did, and the reader cannot help but admire the daring and resolve of the outgunned RN ships and their crews. It would have been interesting to know what the latter thought of it all, but the Campaign series format allows for not much more than an operational level overview. Konstam provides a useful further reading list, however, for those wanting to read more. Overall, Second Sirte is a worthwhile addition to the Campaign series, and the prolific Konstam is always worth reading.
by RNS | Jun 30, 2025 | Beating Tsundoku
Matthew Dillon, Christopher Matthew eds., Religion & Classical Warfare: The Roman Republic (Pen & Sword, 2020)
In a secular society, religion is usually separated from the State and paid lip service when it comes to military decision making. It is sometimes difficult, therefore, to understand a society where religion permeated every military act. But that was the case in the Roman Republic. Matthew Dillon continues his explorations into the connections between religion and classical warfare in this book with the help of various expert contributors.
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Matthew Dillon opens with an overview of new perspectives on religion and warfare in the Roman Republic. He notes that recent studies of Roman warfare have ignored the role of religion. He then surveys the topics under consideration by his various contributors before reminding readers that religion and Roman military success were inextricably entwined.
John Serrati surveys the middle republic where religion and warfare affected every aspect of Roman society. The gods were consulted before campaigns and when the army was in the field. Even the Roman calendar was orientated around war, which Serrati covers in some detail. Matthew Dillon returns with an essay on Evocatio, the Roman wartime practice of enticing enemy gods over to their side, which had a long history into the Biblical era. Among the unfortunate victims of this was Rome’s arch-enemy, Carthage. Of course, the boot could be on the other foot if Rome’s gods abandoned them, as happened to Mark Antony in 30 BCE. Brandon Olson examines the religious functions of Roman arms and armament. He notes how the Romans in the western empire emulated the Celts in votive offerings with their weapons. He also considers the role of memory and commemoration in Roman thinking. Christopher Matthew scrutinises the cult of the eagle military standard. He points out that the eagle was connected to Jupiter, but also that it was originally one among many animals used in the Republic. It was Marius’ reforms that standardised the eagle throughout the army, and they became the ‘soul’ of the legion and the focus of the legion’s loyalty. The religious aspect of the eagle was explicit in that devotion.
Lora Holland Goldthwaite considers the role of women at the intersection of religion and warfare, a relatively new field of study. They participated in many religious activities associated with the protection of the state during wartime. That goes wider than the customary emphasis on the Vestals, though Goldthwaite allocates them their prominent place in the religious scene in Rome. She also records the actions of women across all levels of society, including slaves, much of which has been uncovered by recent women historians. The Vestals appear again in Paul Erdkamp’s study of live burials and their connection to Rome’s wars. He begins with three live burials of Roman enemies, the meaning of which baffled even Roman historians. This was also the fate of several of the Vestals, though Erdkamp acknowledges the lack of clarity in the sources. He wrestles with those sources to make the connection between the purity of the Vestals and success in war. Kim Beerden ponders divination and finds it to be a curiously neglected act by other historians. Beerden discusses the methods and processes of divination and how important this was in the context of warfare for physical and moral reasons. Jeremy Armstrong looks at triumphal transgressions. He argues that the triumph ‘broke all the rules’ of the Republican system but paradoxically acted as a stabilising force because the event itself was rules-driven. The triumph was thus more than a victory parade, and it had a distinctly religious component. Armstrong considers the evolution of the event and its socio-economic and political meaning.
The Religion & Classical Warfare series of books invariably provides thought-provoking material, and this one on the Roman Republic succeeds admirably at that too. The range and depth of the essays are impressive, and each contributor is obviously in command of their material. All of the essays include useful bibliographies for further reading and research. The conclusion, after having read the book, is that an understanding of Roman religious practices is essential to understanding Roman warfare. Too many historians are, unfortunately, content to set aside that influence. This collection of essays was informative and entertaining, and it should prove useful for lay-readers as well as experts in Roman Republican warfare.
by RNS | Jun 24, 2025 | Beating Tsundoku
Jim Carter, Hearts of Steel (New Generation Publishing, 2022)
In July 1918, Herbert Leeder, age 17, joined the Royal Navy. He served for over 25 years in peace and war, which was probably the most remarkable thing about him. Like so many sailors before and after him, Leeder merged into the ranks to become one of the crews that kept Royal Navy ships floating and fighting. Leeder’s naval legacy was a four-page record, outlining his service, and a faded photograph of a proud matelot posing in his tropical rig. In Hearts of Steel, Leeder’s great-grandson, Jim Carter, has used that record and a myriad of diverse sources to narrate a gripping account of Leeder’s journey on ship and ashore.
Leeder’s first ship after basic training was the HMS Centurion, but he knocked about between ships, getting married along the way, before joining the cruiser HMS Effingham in 1925. Carter follows that ship as it headed out to the East Indies station, providing a narrative of events with detours into descriptions of naval life, including the ‘crossing the line’ ceremony, burial at sea, time ashore, and the effects of weather and illness. Leeder returned to Portsmouth in 1927, where he became more husband than sailor, before joining the HMS Hawkins in 1932 and returning to the East Indies. Carter provides more details of naval life, including fishing from the decks, watching movies, runs ashore, and hunting hippos! Carter sets all that against the context of the gathering clouds of war over Europe. By the time war broke out, Leeder had joined the HMS Nubian, a Tribal Class destroyer; a ‘lucky ship’ whose luck would run out spectacularly in May 1941.
Nubian first saw action as a convoy escort in the North Sea. Then she took part in the ill-fated Norwegian campaign, where the Luftwaffe ruled the skies and tormented Allied naval and ground forces. This was not the last time, the crew of the Nubian would encounter the dreaded Stuka dive-bomber. Carter describes the adjustments made in the wake of Nubian’s Norwegian experience before she headed into the Eastern Mediterranean in May 1940. Nubian again protected convoys, this time to Malta, and helped provide submarine and air assault screens for capital ships, though she also performed missions outside that remit. Carter describes the Mediterranean theatre and the Royal Navy’s major operations against the Italian fleet and air force and the notorious sinking of the French fleet. HMS Nubian re-enters the scene at the Battle of Calabria in July 1940 as protection for HMS Warspite. She also protected HMS Illustrious for the action against the Italian fleet at Taranto. Leeder resurfaces on charges when in Alexandria for Christmas, but he is soon back at sea in the New Year. Carter narrates the Battles of Matapan and Tarigo then the evacuation of Greece and Crete. The latter brought intense air attacks against Royal Navy ships, and Carter discusses the mental pressures this constant warfare inflicted on the crews. Many RN ships were lost, but Nubian had escaped lightly. Then, on 26 May 1941, her luck ran out when a Stuka creeped in and dropped a bomb on Nubian’s stern, ripping it off and killing 15 sailors. Fortunately, Leeder was not one of them, but Nubian was out of the war for over a year, and that is where Carter concludes his story. Leeder was demobbed in September 1945, living for another twenty years as a family man.
Hearts of Steel is an outstanding account of men and ships in peace and war. Jim Carter knows how to tell a story, weaving aspects of creative non-fiction with more traditional narrative history writing methods. While many, if not most, books on the Royal Navy during this time are driven by operational and technical aspects, Carter’s focuses on the human dimension: the officers and men of the Royal Navy and occasionally the enemies trying to kill them. Leeder was one of those men, and while Carter rarely mentions him by name, Leeder is always present – he could be one of the men manning the pom-poms under Stuka attack or part of a damage control party. The trick in this kind of work is to highlight that the subject is not ‘not there’, and Carter pulls that off very well. Carter also builds in seamlessly lots of context, from the great events to snippets and vignettes of naval life that are rarely included in other books with this range, and he integrates his sources into the narrative without too much intrusion. Carter perhaps digresses too far on occasion, provides a bit too much extraneous detail at times, but that is a mere quibble for a book that rattles along and entertains as much as it informs.
by RNS | Jun 14, 2025 | Beating Tsundoku
Eddie Idrees, Special Forces Interpreter (Pen & Sword, 2021)
Separating friend from foe is a necessary component of modern warfare. Overcoming cultural differences in an alien environment is also crucial for operational efficiency. Even the best armies need local knowledge. In Afghanistan, the British and Americans employed interpreters such as Eddie Idrees. He risked his life in the face of extreme hostility from, not just the Taliban, but from many who he thought might be more supportive. That carried on into his civilian life in the UK, much to his surprise. This book is Idrees’s memoir of his service in and out of combat.
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Idrees begins his story by recounting his time as a child in a Pakistan refugee camp, where he learned English in a UN sponsored school. Even then he knew he wanted to be a soldier like his father. That was reinforced by a visit to Afghanistan where he witnessed Taliban atrocities and cultivated a lifelong hatred of them. He was recruited as an interpreter for the US army that arrived in the wake of the 9/11 attack, but he was suspended for alleged misconduct. Fortunately for Idrees, a chance encounter led him to serving with Britain’s elite SAS force. He took part in many missions, some of which he describes in detail, particularly his hair-raising close escape from an operation that went wrong in Kandahar. Idrees discusses the risks for interpreters, many of whom were killed in combat or executed when captured by the Taliban. Idrees also notes the endemic corruption in the Afghan army. His personal risks, Idrees could handle, but when the threat extended to his family, it was time for him to get out. He sought asylum in the UK, which was not as simple a process as he expected. Also surprising was the hostility he received from the Afghan community in the UK. Idrees has also had to live with his PTSD, but he has no regrets over his service.
This is a riveting but sometimes deeply unsettling account of a man whose service should be honoured by his adopted country. It was his risk to take to become an interpreter, but he undoubtedly saved many coalition, and Afghan, lives through his sacrifice and sense of duty. It is important that those of us on the outside, in a time of anti-immigrant rhetoric and actions, understand what men such as Idrees did for us. This memoir should go some way to helping us and our politicians make better decisions when it comes to those who did so much for us, and it deserves a wide audience.
