by RNS | Mar 26, 2022 | Beating Tsundoku
Simon and Jonathan Forty, A Photographic History of Infantry Warfare 1939-1945 (Pen & Sword, 2021)
In A Photographic History of Infantry Warfare 1939-1945, Simon and Jonathan Forty take readers on a survey of many aspects of soldiering during World War II. They set themselves a big task and determining how well they have succeeded depends on what audience they intended to reach.
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The Forty’s begin with a bit of a ‘straw man’; that too often we buy into black and white narratives of WWII when the reality was more nuanced. I’m not sure what serious readers they are thinking of here. They are on firmer ground when they identify infantrymen as carrying the major burdens of the war. And with that, our authors take us into their collection of photographs and accompanying text, starting with a survey of the main national contingents. Mechanization made the World War II infantryman’s experiences different, and the Fortys include quite a few pictures of tanks and other war machines, though a photo of horses in mud and mules on mountain tracks remind us of the limits of modern warfare. We also briefly visit the extremes of the combat environment: desert, jungle, and snow. Amphibious operations were not new but had never been attempted on the scale or frequency as happened in WWII, and the authors note that all forces attempted these with varying degrees of success. The Fortys use their chapter on ‘Casualties’ to discuss combat and non-combat cases, as well as the numerous other ways men could become hors de combat, and their primary medical support. Two of the main theatres of war receive their own chapters: including the annoyingly misnamed Russia and Northwest Europe. Curiously, ‘Life in the Infantry’ comes in for the last chapter with many photos of soldiers training – surely, this should have been the first chapter? There are a few appendices on defensive positions, camouflage, mines and mine-clearing, grenades, flamethrowers, mortars, machine guns, ammunition loads, and communications.
For a ‘photographic’ book, this volume is a bit text heavy. Not only is there quite a bit of descriptive text, but vignettes of army life are also interspersed, such as health guides, lists of equipment, tactics, and excerpts from war diaries. The structure is off too; the nine appendices should have suggested this to the authors. You also don’t get the full effect of the photos because the Fortys cover so many different areas and themes, and it is all a bit shallow even if the range is quite good. The photographs are a mixed bag; some are classic images, others are mundane, and the rest are somewhere in between. As a result of all that, it is difficult to discern the audience for this book. The specialist or serious student will not be excited by it and there are better photographic studies. Nevertheless, a general reader, looking for a basic illustrated survey of soldiers in World War II, should find this reasonably entertaining and informative.
by RNS | Mar 25, 2022 | Beating Tsundoku
Dominick Dendooven, Asia in Flanders Fields (Pen & Sword, 2021)
In Asia in Flanders Fields, museum curator and historian, Dominick Dendooven analyses the Indian and Chinese contingents on the Western Front. These groups are understudied and undervalued in popular culture and remembrance of the Great War, yet they stood in the same mud and bled the same colour as their European counterparts. Their sacrifice is certainly worthy of more than a mention in the history books. Dendooven’s book may finally have changed that tide.
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Dendooven begins with Indians on the Western Front: who they were and what they did. The Indian Army Corps took part in the fighting, though the infantry divisions left in 1915. The British originally did not want them there in the first place, arguing on purely racist grounds. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this is a recurrent theme throughout Dendooven’s account. India also supplied a significant number of labourers. Both Indian contingents initially experienced the war as a completely alien environment with few friendly faces; the YMCA was a peculiar but perhaps exaggerated exception. The civilian population and Indians got on reasonably well given the circumstances, and sometimes too well, Dendooven notes. He devotes a chapter to Indian Prisoners of War who were fortunate when grouped together but otherwise endured in bleak isolation, though the Germans were usually decent captors. Whatever their fate, Indians learned from their WWI experience, and some returned to affect change in India.
It might come as a surprise, but 140,000 Chinese served on the Western Front, 96,000 with the British as the Chinese Labour Corps. Dendooven remarks that they are almost entirely forgotten to history. Britain did not want the Chinese in Flanders, but they needed the manpower after the Somme. China wanted a seat at the post-war table and contracted out fit Chinese men. The British knew them by the number on their brass armband and maintained strict segregation, at least on paper; language was, of course, a significant barrier. The Chinese did not fight but suffered casualties from shelling, a clear breach of their contracts, which sometimes led to strikes and violence. Dendooven contrasts British attitudes to that of the Belgians who got on better with the Chinese, though that often broke down in the post-war period. Both exhibited xenophobia and racism towards the Chinese, and sometimes that was reciprocated. Dendooven concludes with an examination of the legacy of the Chinese labourers when they returned to China. Their impact was more indirect than that of the Indians but still significant.
I should note here that this is a work of social history; World War I provides the backdrop to most of the description and analysis in Dendooven’s book. He makes excellent use of mainly western primary sources, but Dendooven also makes the most of those from India and especially China, including interpreting their message laden artefacts. The picture he draws of the Indians and Chinese is probably as good as we are going to get with the sources available, but we should thank Dendooven and other like-minded historians who have picked up the cudgel for a transnational history of World War I on the Western Front.
by RNS | Mar 21, 2022 | Beating Tsundoku
Arthur C Wright, English Collusion and the Norman Conquest (Frontline Books, 2020)
Review by Dom Sore
The Norman Invasion of England was one of the most successful invasions of all time. Conquering a country in one battle has to be some kind of record, and surely done by extraordinary people? In this book, Arthur C Wright attempts to pierce the Norman superhuman myth and discusses how the English helped conquer themselves. At only 212 pages it is a short read, but pleasantly split into short chapters with maps frequently used.
One thing the author does really well is not re-hash the build up to the Norman invasion or whether William was justified. The premise of the book is not to examine the rights or wrongs but how it was so successful. The author does argue well that William could have been simply looking to make some money from his invasion in a similar vein to the Vikings raids that still happened. There are also some excellent descriptions of what happened in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Hastings and William’s consolidation of his throne.
When the author is relating historical facts, the writing is clear, concise, and informative. Unfortunately, those sections are too few. The first chapter, for example, purports to be ‘Eliminating Fantasy’ but only announces it has done so without actually showing that. There is also an odd affectation in the text of the author underlining words for emphasis, which is somewhat jarring to the eye and disrupts the read. As a book for adults, I do not think we need to be informed what to emphasise; it is akin to the canned laughter in a terrible sitcom. That undermines Wright’s authority rather than enhances it, which is especially problematic for a controversial theory like this one.
Does this book set out to do what its author sets out to do? Not really: any evidence of collusion is masked by the author patting himself on the back for having discovered something that everyone else has missed. I do not think any serious student of the period has ever thought there was no collusion, or that the Normans were supermen, or even that the England as we know it existed. There was a missed chance here to discuss the actions of the Anglo-Saxon population in the aftermath of the Norman invasion. The research has been done and more discussion of that, as this book was meant to be, would result in a deeper understanding of the Norman conquest, but English Collusion and the Norman Conquest doesn’t reach that level.
by RNS | Feb 17, 2022 | Beating Tsundoku
Aaron Bates, The Last German Victory (Pen & Sword, 2021)
There are few battles in modern military history that fit the description of ‘noble failure’ more than Operation Market Garden and the doomed attempt to cross the Rhine at Arnhem. It sometimes seems that as much ink has been spilled in analysing the Allied defeat as blood lost in the campaign, and you would think there is little left to add. But Aaron Bates brings something new to the table. He seeks an explanation for the outcome of Market Garden in the ‘ingrained systemic factors’ that led to the British fighting a battle in the wrong place at the wrong time and against the wrong enemy who should be credited with an expensive but well-earned victory.
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Bates opens with an overview of the historiography of the Market Garden operation, beginning with Cornelius Ryan’s A Bridge Too Far, which provided the base for most of the research on the battle that follows. He combines those with works on operational and institutional aspects to present his interpretation of the campaign. Bates next examines German tactical and command doctrine, finding it particularly suited to counter the critical surprise element needed for Allied success. In short, the Germans could react quicker at the local level than the British and with greater ferocity. Bates intersperses his broader narrative with many case studies of local operations to bring his readers closer to the action and explain some of the difficulties the British and Americans faced; for example, the depletion of ammunition rapidly became a concern.
The author turns to the British Tactical and Command doctrine; the other side of the coin, characterized by careful planning and caution over local initiatives. The great Allied advantage in firepower also comes under Bates’ withering gaze and found wanting. As with almost everything else in this battle, the British could not adapt their concentrated firepower doctrine to the diffuse circumstances on the ground with multiple battles being waged simultaneously. Air support, in particular, proved entirely inadequate. Moreover, infantry firepower at the local level favoured the Germans, especially in machine-guns and mortars, and they had armour on the scene whereas the British had to wait and hope for theirs to turn up. Bates concludes with the Allied whitewash for their defeat, their failure to plan for victory, even if that was possible, and, ultimately, that the Germans beat them in what was their final victory of the war.
Bates builds a strong argument in favour of his thesis for The Last German Victory. That is unsurprising given it was a big part of his graduate studies. That perhaps makes his book a bit academic in style, and you can trace the dissertation structure he uses. Nevertheless, this is a thoroughly readable book, helped by the numerous case studies, and Bates has given students of Operation Market Garden much to think about. That raises the question, though: is his thesis correct? It certainly makes sense, and undoubtedly, we should look on the campaign as a German victory rather than an Allied defeat, but it still seems that the Allies could have won if certain factors had gone their way. But then isn’t that why we keep reading books on this fascinating battle?
by RNS | Feb 12, 2022 | Beating Tsundoku
Terry C Treadwell, Lawmen of the Wild West (Pen & Sword, 2021)
There are few more stereotypical characters in American western movies than the local sheriff. He is often the hapless, fat old-timer, long past his usefulness and a ripe target for the desperado or gunman out to cause trouble. Or he is a coward afraid to enforce the law without a Cooper, Wayne, or Eastwood type to accompany him. Terry Treadwell’s tales of historical lawmen paint a very different picture; for better or worse, but always worth reading.
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Treadwell sets out by noting that the history of law enforcement in the fledgling United States was, much of the time, a thankless job. Many of the office-holders were former criminals and there were no obvious standard practices, a situation that lingered in some of the West well into the 20th Century. Law was often the rule of the gun or lynching party’s rope, particularly away from the more settled towns and cities. Jails, like everything else, were often ad-hoc with no State prison system to speak of. Moreover, hunting criminals was often by posse, who might or might not be keen to help but always had to be paid.
With the broader history out of the way, Treadwell launches into a collection of 36 stories about famous, and not-so-famous, lawmen in the American west during its 19th Century heyday. He starts with the first US Marshal, Robert Forsyth, who was also the first to die in service, then Colonel Charles Lynch who gave his name to extra-judicial punishment. One of the most famous, and intimidating lawmen, was ‘Wild Bill’ Hickok who was far from the upstanding citizen of popular culture. The town of Tombstone features in a group of tales involving the various Earp brothers, including Wyatt, another who was far from being a paragon of virtue. Among these famous names, and others, including Pat Garrett and Bat Masterson, are lesser known lawmen, such as Tom Smith, William Breakenridge, former slaves Bass Reeves and Grant Johnson, and the wonderfully named John Slaughter, who also lived extraordinary lives. Treadwell concludes with the story of the Texas Rangers who, like many lawmen in this book, sometimes straddled the fine line between upstanding lawmen and out and out criminals.
This is a book full of incident, as you might expect in the Wild West, but while Treadwell folds many interesting aspects of life into his biographies, this is not a social history, which is just as well given Treadwell’s tactless conclusion on the ethnic nature of modern criminal gangs. Treadwell is a story-teller, and he links many of his tales to weave a thread through them, though the over-arching narrative is not quite there. Fans of the Wild West will enjoy this collection, which matches well with his similar styled book on outlaws, while more serious students will find many of the incidental aspects, particularly on race and ethnicity, thought-provoking.
by RNS | Jan 31, 2022 | Beating Tsundoku
Miles Vining & Kevin Schranz, Into Helmand With the Walking Dead (Pen & Sword, 2020)
Miles Vining enlisted in the US Marines in 2010 as a rifleman assigned to the 1st Battalion, 9th Marines. He served two tours in Afghanistan. On leaving, he earned his degree at Indiana University while he wrestled with his inner demons in a world he no longer understood or that he felt understood him. Into Helmand With the Walking Dead is his memoir of life in the Marines and after; but it’s also a story of men lost in Afghanistan, some physically, some psychologically and emotionally.
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Vining’s memoir follows the usual soldier’s story format of youth, girlfriend, enlistment, training, and off to the front. The girlfriend motif is important in this instance because Lynn is the love of Vining’s life. He dwells on that and his training as a Marine; a soldier ready to kill, ready for war. His first tour is anticlimactic in that regard; Vining sees no action worth mentioning, just the day-in, day-out routines of infantry life in an occupied land interspersed with small dramas but no crises. He arrives back in the US a bit older but not much wiser, and his relationship with Lynn breaks down while he struggles to settle. That isn’t helped by a horrible training accident that kills his best friend, one of three deaths that will haunt Vining. His relief at going back to Afghanistan is almost tangible.
That second tour is a completely different story. Vining’s unit is sent to a hot zone infested by the Taliban, and he gets all the combat he can handle. His unit comes under fire while on patrol and there is the ever-present threat of IEDs and suicide bombers. Vining loses his second brother-in-arms, killed in action by a Taliban bullet, but he comes through physically unscathed. On his return to the US, Vining leaves the Marines, but the Marines do not leave him. His frustration with civilian life, now as a student, overwhelms him at times, and his growing anger is tangible. Then his ex-Marine friend, Kevin Schranz, commits suicide, which is a stunning blow to Vining. He exits his memoir with what all this means, not just to him, but to the other men he fought alongside, many of whom have also struggled to adapt, with some of them committing suicide too. It’s a sombre note on which to finish, but a necessary one.
I nearly gave up on this book after the first hundred pages, but I am glad I didn’t. As a combat memoir, Into Helmand With the Walking Dead is unbalanced with little of any substance happening until the last third. It would have been useful from that perspective to read more about Vining’s combat experiences. As a soldier’s story, however, Vining’s memoir often crosses over into social history, offering valuable insights into the ordinary infantryman’s life at war and at home. The underlying societal message shouldn’t be lost either; too many of these men commit suicide, while others feel alienated. Vining brings that out well in his remembrance of Kevin Schranz, who receives co-author status, set alongside his own post-war battles. In the end, this is a sobering book and well worth reading.
