by RNS | Mar 22, 2023 | Beating Tsundoku
Andrew Abram, The English Garrison of Tangier Charles II’s Colonial Venture in the Mediterranean, 1661-1684 (Helion, 2022)
King Charles II’s marriage to the Portuguese Infanta brought, amongst other things, the acquisition of Tangier. The resultant Tangier garrison existed from 1661 to 1684, and its story, which will be considered by many to be well off the beaten track, is fascinating and made even more so by Andrew Abram. This weighty tome, coming in at just over 380 pages, is a bit of a tour de force.
Abram starts by describing the army of Charles II and the troops sent out to garrison this new acquisition. There follow chapters on the development of the harbour and the impact of the various governors. There is, of course, the inevitable confrontation with the Alaouite Dynasty, which was securing its interests in Morocco, and the armies and various conflicts, including the siege of the garrison, are covered in detail. The demise of the colony and the multifaceted reasons for it bring the book to a conclusion. It is supported by numerous appendices and a substantial number of period illustrations.
The story of Tangier is one of underfunding, desperate men in desperate situations, unreasonable demands, politics, and skulduggery, with a series of conflicts that the garrison was totally unprepared for. At the end of the day, it is a tragic tale, but don’t let that put you off as it is a fascinating and well told adventure.
I came to this book knowing virtually nothing about Charles II’s reign and even less about the Tangier garrison. I learned a lot about the subject, and it opened a window not just on the colony but on how the country took some of its first steps in its colonial expansion. I came away deeply impressed by Abram’s ability to provide huge amounts – and I mean huge amounts – of detail while maintaining a narrative that flows through the complex politics of the time. It is reasonable to say that this book is everything you never knew you wanted to know about Charles II’s escapade in Tangier.
This is recommended for those with an interest in the period, whether history buff, wargamer, reenactor, or someone new to the period who likes a good book on an unusual subject told by someone who knows their stuff and has the skill to make is it an enthralling read.
(Reviewed by Mike Huston for Full Paper Jacket)
by RNS | Mar 15, 2023 | Beating Tsundoku
Jasna Levinger-Goy, Out of the Siege of Sarajevo (Pen & Sword, 2022)
In spring 1992, Jasna Levinger-Goy, a university lecturer became increasingly baffled by ethnic tensions in her hometown of Sarajevo that accelerated into a full-blown civil war. She lived through the hell of snipers and shelling before escaping to Belgrade then London and Cambridge, where she now lives. Out of the Siege of Sarajevo is the poignant and illuminating memoir of a woman searching for her lost identity.
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Levinger-Goy begins with a necessary overview of Sarajevo and her life in it before the civil war. While she saw the signs of that impending conflict, Levinger-Goy lived in denial, despite, or perhaps because of, her education and position as a professor. Then the shelling started, and she found herself having to survive amidst decreasing supplies and increasing danger. To her horror and bewilderment, Levinger-Goy came to accept that Sarajevo was under siege and the atrocities were piling up. Hunger and deprivation came with the shells, but Levinger-Goy, her family, and neighbours learned to survive. She describes her powerlessness and the randomness of death by shellfire or sniper bullet as she walked around town looking for milk and other supplies. She became a regular visitor to the local Jewish Community centre and people she knew dropped by her house just to talk. Finally, Levinger-Goy knew the time had come for her to leave. This was an ordeal in itself, but she found time to arrange a marriage with a man she was trying to help get out of the city. Then, in August 1992, Levinger-Goy boarded a bus with her parents and left.
After a harrowing bus journey, the family arrived in Pirovac where they could recuperate, and from there, they travelled to Belgrade. Settling down in a new city was not easy for a refugee, but Levinger-Goy kept going, finding work and fitting in as best she could in her desire to feel ‘normal’. Even though the complications continued, Levinger-Goy resumed her academic interests and things seemed to be going well. But all around her, the economy was collapsing, and refugees were scapegoated, yet she could not go back to Sarajevo. Levinger-Goy chose the UK, and she emigrated with her mother three years after the war came to Sarajevo. The settling in process began again, this time more successfully, though not without its obstacles. Levinger-Goy married a UK citizen and moved to Cambridge. When her husband died in 2000, she lapsed into depression from which she struggled to recover. Levinger-Goy finally returned to Sarajevo in 2004 but met with resentment and hatred for leaving; she has never gone back. Her memoir closes with an addendum on Yugoslavia in WWII, an update on all the people she mentions in the book, and an excerpt from a short story that illustrates some of the issues that linger in Sarajevo.
Memoirs are difficult to review because you are challenging the writer’s lived experiences. When they fail, they do so usually for fabrication, grandstanding, or too many errors. Sometimes, they are just boring. Levinger-Goy’s memoir is none of those. This is a well-written and touching account of a woman’s struggle to comprehend her ordeals, first under fire in Sarajevo then as a refugee. With Europe roiled once more by war and a seemingly constant refugee crisis, memoirs such as these are important guides to understanding. Only a monster could read this and not feel compassion for Levinger-Goy and those like her who have faced the worst humanity has to offer yet show resilience and fortitude in trying to rebuild their lives.
by RNS | Mar 13, 2023 | Beating Tsundoku
Richard Mackinder, Bosworth The Archaeology of the Battlefield (Pen & Sword, 2021)
Most history students will recognise that there are 5 Ws* to consider when approaching historical events. Of those, the most important and open to interpretation is ‘why’, but that is often contingent on knowing the other 4 Ws. When it comes to the pivotal Battle of Bosworth (1485), Richard Mackinder tackles those questions, building on the archaeological discoveries that he helped to find. In doing so, he attempts to overturn much of what we thought we knew.
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Mackinder leaps straight into his interpretation of events based on artefacts by questioning the pre-battle build up, including the antagonists’ camps and a preliminary skirmish. The arrival of the forces and deployment at Bosworth follows, with an interesting discussion on the use of mediaeval cannons. Archaeological evidence also suggests who amongst the nobility might have been at the battle. Mackinder digs through that, along with the unsuccessful search for a grave-pit, before moving onto Richard III’s alleged deformity and the battlefield positioning of the passive but dangerous Sir William Stanley. Richard’s cavalry charge is next in the sequence, and, of course, his untimely demise. How he died – violently – is no longer open to conjecture other than in the exact details, but where he died is. Mackinder surmises that from the opening charge to Richard’s death only took a few minutes, but that was long enough for Stanley to choose his side and for the Earl of Northumberland to realise the game was up. The battle ended in a rout, and Mackinder traces where part of that might have happened, as he does for King Henry’s crowning.
The aim of his book, states Mackinder, is to open the floor for discussion. He has many questions, some of which he answers through speculation guided by the available evidence. After an oddly placed but interesting chapter on roundshot, Mackinder throws down the gauntlet to Mike Ingram’s recent theory on the battle. He does this through the changing nature of interpretation based on new or reinterpreted evidence. I wasn’t convinced, but at least Mackinder puts his cards on the table, which is good news for students of battlefields. Mackinder also adds a thorough self-guided tour of the battle, including useful maps, for you to judge for yourself what happened. He also suggests a plethora of potential future investigations. Five appendices listing archaeological finds concludes the book.
This isn’t a book I would recommend to anyone that lacks a passing knowledge of the Battle of Bosworth. Beyond that, this an absorbing survey of the battle that puts forward some well thought out arguments based on Mackinder’s interpretation of the evidence. Also, as he is a battlefield guide of longstanding at Bosworth, his views must be taken seriously. I wasn’t convinced, however, by all of Mackinder’s arguments, particularly his swipe at Mike Ingram’s theory, which I found a bit odd as it is presented in isolation and weakens the structure of the book and Mackinder’s thesis. Nevertheless, that discordant note aside, Mackinder’s presentation of the evidence is certainly thought-provoking, and his battlefield guide will undoubtedly be valuable for researchers on the ground.
*And an inconvenient H.
by RNS | Mar 12, 2023 | Beating Tsundoku
Massimo Predonzani and Vincenzo Alberici, The Italian Wars Vol 3. Francis I and the Battle of Pavia 1525 (Helion, 2021)
(Reviewed by Mike Huston for Full Paper Jacket)
The third volume in Helion’s excellent Italian Wars series focuses on the Battle of Pavia, one of the most important engagements in the 16th Century, and one with far-reaching consequences for the control of Europe.
The initial background, the reasons for the conflict, and the manoeuvres around Parma are laid out and flow smoothly into an in-depth description of the Battle of Bicocca. The reader is then taken on a short trip to Lombardy before heading to the siege of Pavia. There they are treated to the orders of battle for the opposing forces before they go charging into the Battle of Pavia. The result of the battle, in terms of casualties and the consequences for both sides on the outcome, are laid out clearly.
One of the joys of this period is the variety and colour in the soldiers’ clothing, exemplified in the section of colour plates, and there are chapters on the heraldry of Francis I and his nobles, the main Imperial captains, Charles III, and the German and Italian Black bands. The penultimate chapter delves into contemporary pictures of the battle, which will have you heading for the internet to review these valuable and beautiful resources with a more educated eye. Finally, the authors discuss the reasons for the outcome of the Battle of Pavia and the significance of the Spanish arquebusiers.
The volume is, like the others in the series, supported by a number of black and white illustrations and contemporary prints, and maps of the Battles of Bicocca and Pavia, although oddly, not Romagnano. In addition, there are eight pages of coloured illustrations of the protagonists in all their finery, which ties in with the more detailed heraldic chapters.
This book packs in a lot of detail and is recommended for those of us who don’t read Italian but who have an interest in the period, or at a minimum, just want to paint their wee soldiers in the right colours.
by RNS | Mar 10, 2023 | Beating Tsundoku
Thomas McKelvey Cleaver, Under the Southern Cross (Osprey, 2021)
The port of Rabaul in New Guinea was crucial to the war in the Pacific. Japanese possession from January 1942 posed a significant threat to Australia and Allied operations. Both sides knew the stakes and threw everything into a battle that lasted for over two years and controlling the skies over the Solomon Islands in Rabaul’s shadow lay at the heart of that. Thomas McKelvey Cleaver narrates that story in this riveting book.
Cleaver begins with the US on the back foot even after their victory at Midway. The Japanese had better resources and were fighting closer to home, yet the Americans had to take the offensive to stop Japanese expansion in the South Pacific. They began at Guadalcanal in August 1942. Cleaver describes the aerial and naval actions in detail, following individual pilots on both sides into combat while reminding readers of the operational context on land and sea. He maintains this structure through his chapters as the story develops to incorporate many of the iconic battles of the Pacific War: Savo Island, Cape Esperance, Santa Cruz, and the pivotal naval engagements off Guadalcanal in November 1942. Cleaver also devotes a whole chapter to the mission to assassinate Admiral Yamamoto. By summer 1943, the tide had firmly turned against the Japanese; as their fighting capabilities reduced, America’s increased, and the end was all but inevitable, though not without more hard fighting, particularly over Rabaul.
The air above the Solomon Islands was filled with Zeros, Wildcats, Bettys, Vals, Dauntlesses, Kates, B-25s, Corsairs, Kittyhawks, Hellcats, and P-38s among others. Cleaver describes aerial combat, but also bombing, anti-ship missions, and ground support actions such as those on Guadalcanal by P-400s that were seemingly quite useless in every other function. Cleaver highlights the advantages and deficiencies those planes possessed and also the disparity in pilot losses that affected the Japanese so badly as the war dragged on. In the course of the book, Cleaver stresses the importance of veteran pilots through his recurrent biographies of the top American aces; although he acknowledges that the Japanese had aces too, their numbers certainly thinned in the losing war effort. He also highlights the contributions of other American servicemen to their success.
Cleaver concludes that the South Pacific campaign was the cornerstone of the Allied victory over Japan, and on this evidence, it is difficult to argue with him. His book is full of action in a well-written narrative that offers considerable insight into how the campaign was fought mostly by the US Navy and its air force with a nod to their allies in the region. Readers who are familiar with the campaign might complain about a lack of new material, but I don’t believe that was Cleaver’s purpose in bringing this less heralded campaign to the public. All in all, this is an absorbing story that deserves the wider audience it will undoubtedly receive.
by RNS | Mar 8, 2023 | Beating Tsundoku
Alberto Raúl Esteban Ribas, The Battle of Rocroi 1643 (Helion, 2022)
There are those who argue that Rocroi was possibly the most important battle of the 17th Century, and one on which the fate of Europe truly hung. It marked the end of Spanish military supremacy along with their famous tercios, and the beginning of French hegemony in Europe coincident with the accession of the infant Louis XIV to the French throne. But it is a battle familiarly told from the French perspective with few Spanish historians’ voices raised in opposition. We need a proper, balanced account of Rocroi, and Alberto Raúl Esteban Ribas is here to tell it.
Battle narratives tend to follow a similar format, and Ribas’ Rocroi is no exception. The historical context comes first, followed by a description of the opposing armies. As with everything else in this book, Ribas provides a thorough overview, which is accompanied by suitable contemporary illustrations. Having surveyed the armies, Ribas moves on to examine the respective generals and commands. With the set-up established, Ribas drives into the narrative with a chapter on how the respective sides arrived at the battlefield of Rocroi. The two armies then line up facing each other, though their deployment is the subject of some dispute, which Ribas navigates well. Then we are into the action. Here too, some confusion abounds as to who was where and what they did, which you might expect if you are familiar with battle narratives. But Ribas again works his way through the evidence to present a clear picture of events. For this, he is aided by illuminating, sequential maps, all the way through to the controversial massacre of the last standing Spanish units. Ribas closes his account with the aftermath of the battle, including casualties and prisoners, then the wider consequences, though he downplays the effect of the battle on the Spanish military; despite French historians arguing otherwise, Rocroi was not the disaster for the Spanish or triumph for the French they portray. Ribas’ concluding analysis of the battle is, therefore, a particularly interesting and quite persuasive piece of revisionism – Ribas adds a useful bibliography if you would like to argue with him.
The Battle of Rocroi takes a well-trodden path as far as battle narratives go, but Ribas digs deeper than most to write an interesting story and analysis that challenges the orthodox view of the battle. That alone should put it on top of your 17th Century books pile. The production value is high too, with contemporary illustrations, maps, and colour plates of soldiers for you to peruse while you ponder Ribas’s arguments. Whether this is the new definitive account of the battle will, of course, be questioned, but Ribas certainly takes the historiography of Rocroi in a new direction.
