Napoleon’s Russian Farewell

Napoleon’s Russian Farewell

Alexander Mikaberidze, Berezina 1812 (Osprey, 2022)
Even by 1812, the reasons why you do not invade Russia were well known, and it would take an ego the size of Napoleon’s to ignore them. But he did, resulting in a frustrating military campaign followed by a disastrous retreat as the Russian winter enveloped his army. That any of his army survived at all probably comes down to a heroic defence of the crossing of the Berezina river. In this addition to Osprey’s Campaign series, Alexander Mikaberidze takes us into the heart of the action.
Mikaberidze begins by surveying the diplomatic background to the war between France and Russia, which seemed mutually acceptable by 1812. But Mikaberidze notes that while Russian knew what was coming, they were hardly prepared with only 250,000 men spread around three armies. Their only option was to retreat in the face of the French juggernaut, though they too had mounting problems as they pushed into Russia’s vastness. Fighting followed, which turned the French army. Thus, Napoleon’s famous retreat began pursued by the Russians who now held almost all the cards.
We are introduced to the main commanders on both sides with potted biographies and portraits. Then Mikaberidze moves onto the armies, beginning with the French Grande Armee, nearly 600,000 strong when the campaign started. By the bloodbath at Borodino in September 1812, that was already down to 180,000 for various reasons. More fell there and on the subsequent retreat, and losses in officers impacted command and control. By the time he reached the Berezina in late November, Napoleon could call on about 35,000 effectives to protect the crossing. Most of the Russian army ambled along behind the French, so not all could fight at the Berezina. Mikaberidze provides Orders of Battle for those who did.
After a consideration of strategies on both sides, Mikaberidze comes to the campaign leading to the crossing of the Berezina. The latter involved the French attempting to build bridges while the army held off the Russians. In this, they were aided by Russian intelligence failures and mismanagement. Finally, the Russians got into the fight, but by then much of the French army was over the bridges. The combat with the French rearguard was as fierce as anything in the whole campaign. That included the loss of a French Division at Borisov, which should have united 75,000 Russian soldiers, but petty command squabbles prevented that. Meanwhile, Napoleon deployed his reduced force for action on the west bank where he held some tactical advantages, but even then, it took an incredible Swiss counterattack to stall the Russian advance. Mikaberidze adds here that it was mainly non-French Allied forces that did much of the fighting. On the East bank, the French fought with equal courage, holding the bridge open for stragglers, aided by the weather and incompetent Russian command. The French escaped across the river overnight, but Napoleon barely had an army to command on his return to France such were his losses.
Mikaberidze concludes with the battlefield today and the contending views on where various events happened and what it all meant. Having read the book, I’m still not sure how to describe this battle, though Mikaberidze’s subtitle is ‘Napoleon’s Hollow Victory’. What is clear is that Mikaberidze has written a lively and coherent account of a series of complex events that formed the crucial passage of Napoleon’s inglorious retreat from Russia. He is helped by Osprey’s usual skill in illustrating their Campaign series books with maps and artwork. Students of the Napoleonic Wars will enjoy Mikaberidze’s book on its own or as a steppingstone to further reading.

Letters From Arabia

Letters From Arabia

Fabrizio Bagatti, Lawrence of Arabia’s Secret Dispatches through the Arab Revolt 1915-1919, (Pen & Sword Military 2021)
Lawrence of Arabia holds a special place in British memory, relating to his exploits during World War I and beyond. With the added romance of his early death, he is a subject that garners much attention and no little controversy. This book doesn’t really set out to dismiss or support any viewpoint but presents the epistolic documentation to the reader. These documents reflect on Lawrence’s role in the Arab Revolt of 1915-1919 and are presented in chronological order.
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What we get are 118 documents presented as they were produced, then represented to the modern reader for them to decide their value and accuracy. The author is open about his like of Lawrence, and the introduction sets that out straight away; however, the book itself contains no analysis of the documents presented. Without that, the work is all left to the reader to decide, which is not a bad thing when provoking some examination of one’s own prejudices. But it still is an opportunity missed, though the book doesn’t suffer for it. There are extensive footnotes provided throughout the text; and they are footnotes, not endnotes, so no need to hold various bookmarks and flick back and forth between pages – personally, I like footnotes presented in this manner. There is an extensive bibliography too, which will be very useful for anyone wanting to read further. The index only deals with the personalities mentioned in the text but is very comprehensive.
This is not a book to sit and “read”: it is a useful research tool when dealing with TE Lawrence’s influence, or lack thereof, on the Arab Revolt. Which side of the fence you fall on for that will very much depend on your personal disposition towards Lawrence and Britain’s role in the Arab world. This is a nice collection of pertinent documents, but it is not a stand-alone tome; you will need others if you are looking to understand Lawrence, the Arab Revolt, or the wider World War One context.

The Sea Monster

The Sea Monster

Nicky Nielsen, The Pirate Captain Ned Low (Pen & Sword, 2022)
In the prologue of The Pirate Captain Ned Low, Nicky Nielsen recounts the tale of a despicable attack on a whaler in 1723. That story illustrates who we are dealing with in this book; not a pirate of romantic myth and legend, but a genuine sea monster who you would not want to meet in your worst nightmares. Nielsen’s aim in this biography is to understand Ned Low and the world in which he lived.
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Nielsen opens with an illuminating essay on sources, then takes us off to the coast of Honduras where Low’s career as a pirate began by killing his captain and absconding on a sloop with a small crew. Nielsen switches to the story of the pirate George Lowther, whose path will cross with Low, before flashing back to crime-ridden London in the 1680s and Edward (Ned) Low’s misbegotten youth. From there to Boston in 1714, where Low can be placed with certainty. By 1719, Low was on his way to Honduras and a brief, violent life of piracy.
Low became Lowther’s lieutenant on the Happy Delivery. Nielsen takes this opportunity to describe the pirate’s life and its attractions, especially amongst the dispossessed. Lowther and Low soon parted, with Low sailing away on the Rebecca. Nielsen portrays Low at this time as an unhappy man with a tendency to extremely violent outbursts. He raided off the coasts of New England and Nova Scotia, where he took an unwilling Philip Ashton to join his crew. Nielsen follows Ashton’s memoir of his captivity where he finds some of the accounts of Low’s brutality do not jibe with Ashton’s evidence. Low’s luck turned, losing one vessel of his small fleet through carelessness. He was clever, though, and managed his piratical path around the Caribbean using guile more often than force. Then he ran into the HMS Mermaid. His smaller ship with Ashton aboard split off and Ashton escaped – Nielsen expends nearly a chapter on Ashton’s life on a deserted island afterwards before his rescue by the Royal Navy.
Nielsen returns to the Bay of Honduras in March 1723 where Low’s flotilla fought and massacred a Spanish pirate crew before sailing north again. Then, in June 1723, Low chased the wrong ship, the HMS Greyhound. He lost one ship but fled in his own to Nova Scotia, leaving some crew behind to face trial and execution, described in detail by Nielsen. Low met Lowther again, and Nielsen follows Lowther for a while before he and Low crossed to the Azores. Low’s atrocious conduct by now caused disquiet even amongst his crew. In 1724, his crew voted Low out and cast him adrift. Lowther, meanwhile, lost his ship too and committed suicide on a deserted island. As for Low, who knows? He may have been killed by natives or continued as a mercenary soldier; he was certainly never tried for his crimes and may have simply faded into history. That he might have left behind buried treasure is also an intriguing mystery, but Nielsen dispenses with that as another pirate myth.
Nielsen brings to light a fascinating tale of a vicious cutthroat and moderately successful pirate. His book is packed with action and insight into the pirate’s life, and we meet some larger than life characters along the way. I’m not sure he has enough material, though, to claim this is a proper biography; rather, Low runs through the book as a strong narrative thread tying together many different aspects of the early 18th Century pirate world that he inhabited. The book is not diminished for that incompleteness, though some editing and proofreading errors are annoying. Ultimately, this is a solid contribution to our history of pirates, particularly away from the ‘superstar’ pirates we read about so often.

An Army Destroyed

An Army Destroyed

Michael McNally, Tannenberg 1914 (Osprey, 2022)
Tannenberg 1914 is another in the Osprey Campaign series (#386). As such, it follows a conventional format of assessing the opposing commanders and forces, then analysing the opposing plans before describing the campaign and its aftermath. But this was a massive, complex battle that requires deft handling by the author.
McNally circles into his subject by outlining the broad causes of WWI and the German and Russian grand strategic plans once it started. The single page, step by step chronology shows that the Germans declared war on Russia on 1 August 1914 and fought their way to Tannenberg within the month. That brings McNally to a consideration of the opposing commanders and the forces they commanded, including the orders of battle – a brief glance highlights what a titanic struggle this would be. Then we are into the respective plans for the battle. The Russians planned a double-envelopment, while the Germans opted for an ‘active defence’, but the Russians had overlooked logistical planning: the Germans had not. McNally then follows the armies on their campaigns and into battle. That included Stallupönen, on 17 August, and Gumbinnen on 20 August, after which the Germans changed strategy and field command with things looking decidedly grim.
Enter Generalmajor Erich Ludendorff. He took command and stabilised the German position, aided by staunch defending against impressive Russian numbers. The Germans also benefitted from superior aerial reconnaissance and better use of artillery to hold back the Russian advance. The Russians did not help their own cause by their forces spreading too widely, reducing cohesion. The Germans took advantage of the cracks in the Russian positions to defeat them in detail and working around their flanks until the Russians were surrounded. The destruction of the Russian army followed in what was a crushing defeat for the Tsar and a spectacular victory for the Kaiser.
Tannenberg 1914 is one of the more text heavy books in the Campaign series, but McNally has a lot to cover with this sprawling battle. He does an excellent job of it too, explaining all the operational activity while adding enough on-the-ground coverage to add flavour and human interest. McNally also carefully weaves analysis through his narrative along with nuanced character descriptions of the major players. The text is accompanied visually by uncluttered, colour maps, photographs, and ‘action’ illustrations of the usual Osprey high quality. Overall, this is a solid introduction to this pivotal Great War battle and an enjoyable read.

No Ordinary Soldiers

No Ordinary Soldiers

Simon Elliott, Roman Warriors: The Paintings of Graham Sumner (Greenhill, 2022)
Have you ever wondered how Roman soldiers dressed over the whole period of their Empire? If so, you are in for a treat with this collection of prominent military artist Graham Sumner’s authoritative illustrations brought together in a coffee-table style book.
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Before we get into the main body of Sumner’s artwork, Simon Elliott introduces the man himself through a potted biography and appreciation of his work. The illustrations are arranged in chronological order, beginning in the pre-Roman era of the Villanovans and Etruscans and extending into the post-Roman, so-called Dark Ages, and the Byzantine period in the East. Most of the illustrations are of standing soldiers from all points of the Empire, highlighting their clothing, weapons, and armour. Some auxiliaries and enemies are included, the latter in dramatic combat pictures. Sumner deviates at times to showcase Roman installations such as forts, watchtowers, a blacksmith, a bath house, and a street scene in occupied Britain.
The accompanying text by Elliott provides background information on the figures and their context, including the organisation of the army and the campaigns they fought, and many have a description of the colour plates complete with sources. Along the way, Elliott drops in little snippets of Roman army life, such as rates of pay, what soldiers did on their ‘down time’ etc. An epilogue showcases some of Sumner’s latest work that extends outside Rome to other historical eras, and a useful bibliography closes the book.
It almost goes without saying that Sumner’s illustrations are uniformly excellent. Each of them offers a little insight into the world of the Roman soldier, and Elliott’s text complements them well. Sumner bases his artwork in the archaeology, and each figure looks as if they have been lifted from an historical scene. These are not mannequins, however, because Sumner has a particular talent for expression, animating his figures and making the viewer aware of a narrative happening just below the surface. The best coffee-table books have that almost passive educational element to them, and Roman Warriors succeeds admirably in that regard.

Sweden’s Backbone

Sweden’s Backbone

Sergey Shamenkov, Charles XII’s Karoliners (Helion, 2022)
This is the first volume in what promises to be another outstanding series from Helion & Company. The subject is the Swedish Infantry & Artillery of the Great Northern War 1700-1721, which is a useful place to start when digging into that pivotal 18th Century conflict.
Shamenkov breaks down his survey into seven chapters. The first explains the battle formations and tactics of Charles XII’s infantry, which provides much of the context for Shamenkov’s description of the Swedish king’s army in the field. The soldiers’ weapons and accoutrements follow with photographs of museum pieces, including drums and belts. Then Shamenkov considers uniforms, beginning with the many caps and hats the Swedish soldiers wore, then coats and overcoats as he works his way through their development over the course of the war. He pauses to describe briefly Estonian and Livonian uniforms before moving onto the coat adornments of NCOs, uniforms for musicians, waistcoats, gloves, breeches, cloaks, and footwear. The variations in officers’ uniforms deserve their own chapter, including the surprisingly simple uniform worn by Charles XII. Some officers also wore gorgets and cuirasses, though the latter were for ceremonial purposes. Officers’ weapons receive not much more than a mention, which is curious given the variety of other accoutrements they wore. Shamenkov moves on to the artillery, guiding readers through their uniforms in much the same way he did with the infantry; though here he defers to a classic work on Charles XII’s army by Lars-Eric Höglund, so doesn’t dive into great detail on the subject.
Charles XII’s Karoliners is more than a handy guide to the Swedish army. The text is clean and serviceable, but it is the artwork that lifts this book out of the ordinary. You know those uniform guidebooks that offer a couple of colour plates in the middle and can be frustrating when you need a wee bit more? This book isn’t that. It is full of colour plates of soldiers, each furnished with a suitable description. Photographs of museum pieces and contemporary painting supplement the original artwork, and Shamenkov’s useful bibliography points the way for further research. For wargamers or figure collectors interested in the Swedish army of the Great Northern War, Shamenkov’s book is an excellent starting place and highly recommended.