by RNS | May 27, 2020 | Beating Tsundoku
John Grehan and Alexander Nicoll, Dunkirk Evacuation Operation Dynamo (Frontline, 2020)
Few events sit higher in British military mythology than the evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force at Dunkirk in May 1940. What was a staggering defeat by any measure became a source of national pride, a turning point not towards defeat but victory. It remains so with numerous books written about it and two major movies produced to tell the story. The latter is important because Dunkirk is understood best as a visual event; numbers and statistics are important, but do not have the image of a long line of defeated soldiers standing in the sea under fire, waiting for a ship to rescue them. That is where John Grehan and Alexander Nicoll’s Dunkirk Evacuation Operation Dynamo comes in as part of the Images of War series of books.
After an outline, narrating the fall of France that led to the evacuation, the authors describe the events chronologically across the nine days it took to bring those men back home. John Grehan has recently written a book on this subject, so we can skip across the text, suffice to say that in this volume it is well-paced and works well with the photographs. Grehan and Nicoll make it clear that likely catastrophe was all that most of the BEF could look forward to as they retreated back to Dunkirk, but instead an extraordinary effort was made to get the men off the beaches by a flotilla of ships large and small.
It is the photographs, however, that make this book: many are of the ships, planes, and men that crossed the Channel, and what became of some of them; others show the British streaming into the town and gathering on the beaches, including action shots of men firing and bombs exploding. The detritus of war is strewn across many of the photographs: vehicles and equipment abandoned in the flight of a retreating army – the British left an awful lot behind them, including many men. The ‘Aftermath’ chapter pictures were taken by the victorious Germans, which I found particularly interesting; how easy they must have thought war was at the time. A few photographs are stills from the 1958 movie Dunkirk, which I thought cheapened the book a bit and they should not have added them; they did not need to. Otherwise, Dunkirk Evacuation Operation Dynamo is an informative journey through the drama that was Dunkirk and a welcome addition to the Images of War series. 8/10
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by RNS | May 26, 2020 | Beating Tsundoku
Philippe Caresse, The Battleships of the Iowa Class (Naval Institute Press, 2019)
While serving in the Persian Gulf in the 1980s, I had the privilege of spending some time aboard the battleship USS Iowa. I remember being awe-struck at this incredible war machine and the power that it manifested, and that was before it fired its 16” main guns. When I received Philippe Caresse’s The Battleships of the Iowa Class, therefore, I was delighted: a big ship needs a big book to tell her story.
Caresse covers all four of the Iowa class battleships – Iowa, New Jersey, Missouri, and Wisconsin – in loving detail across 513 pages in a ‘coffee-table’ book. He is supported by dozens of colour and black & white photographs, technical drawings, and 3D graphics as he works his way through the evolution of the American battleship and its technical specifications. The latter are mind-boggling: 1.135 million rivets, 57,353 tons displaced, 53,820 square feet of upper deck, three 16” triple-gun turrets weighing 1,850 tons each, twelve 5” guns, four Phalanx, thirty-two cruise missiles, I could go on but you get the picture; the statistics running through the book are staggering. As for the photographs, they cover every technical and social aspect of these majestic vessels, from the engines and weapons to the messes, ship’s store, laundry, and brig, down to a photograph of an officer’s ‘head’ and Roosevelt’s bathtub on the Iowa. But it is the photographs of the big guns firing that capture the imagination and tell you what these ladies were all about. Caresse devotes the second part of his book to the history of the four ships. They fought in all of America’s wars until their decommissioning in the 1990s, experiencing triumphs and tragedies along the way. They are thankfully, but maybe a wee bit sadly, preserved as floating museums.
The Battleships of the Iowa Class is a wonderful homage to ships the likes of which we will never see again. The history sections apart, this is not a reading book, but one you dip into and explore, or use as a reference tool for modelling or historical research. The photographs and 3D renderings help you appreciate the complexity and, well, awesomeness of these incredible feats of engineering. For me, and probably everyone who served in the Iowa class battleships, Caresse brought back some cherished memories, but anyone interested in the big ships will love this book. 10/10
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by RNS | May 25, 2020 | Beating Tsundoku
Philip Jowett, Liberty or Death Latin American Conflicts, 1900-70 (Osprey, 2019)
Latin America, from Mexico to Tierra del Fuego, has merited few mentions in the mainstream of Military History unless the United States has been involved, and even then it is usually as a sideshow to larger geo-political affairs. Yet the entire continent has seen more than its share of conflict. In Liberty or Death Latin American Conflicts, Philip Jowett illuminates those wars fought between 1900 and 1970, sixty of them, that changed the political, economic, and social landscapes of South and Central America.
Jowett begins in the 19th Century with the end of European rule and the bloody civil and transnational wars that shook the continent. Some of them spilled over into the next century. Jowett moves on to the plethora of wars that erupted in the first two decades of the Twentieth Century, with Liberals fighting Conservatives in Colombia, a Secession movement in Bolivia, wars between nations, rebellion in Venezuala, civil wars in Uruguay, Honduras, Paraguay, and the Dominican Republic. Ecuador and Costa Rica also endured armed conflicts. Most of these wars were characterized by small and poorly equipped armies and a general shaking out of political power and border realignment. Running through the second decade and on to 1929 was the Mexican Revolution to which Jowett devotes two chapters, there being so much activity going on in separate phases.
World War I barely touched Latin America, which was just as well because they were too busy fighting each other, and that continued, giving a new meaning to the Roaring Twenties. The Honduran Civil War ended in 1920, then Costa Rica and Panama kicked off the Coto War in 1921. Paraguay fell into Civil War the following year, then another Civil War erupted in Honduras in 1924. Nicaragua too fell into civil war in 1926 which descended into the Sandino Rebellion that lasted until 1933. Venezuela’s sadistic dictator Juan Vincente Gomez overcame a series of rebellions in 1929. Then there was Brazil where revolutions came along like buses between 1922 and 1938, and worthy of a large chapter on its own.
Jowett deviates into US involvement in various conflicts, most notably Mexico, before returning to his chronological narrative with the Chaco War from 1932-1935 between Paraguay and Bolivia. We now see more warplanes and tanks entering the combat zones. The 1930s was the decade of coups in Argentina then Chile; Ecuador fell into civil war; and Cuba, Uruguay, and El Salvador suffered revolts. The mass ideologies of communism and fascism entered the frame. The decade ended with another rebellion in Mexico. Running through the 1930s were disputes over borders deep in the Amazon jungle between Colombia and Peru, and Peru and Ecuador who fought it out in 1941. World War II saw most Latin American countries support the US, though only Brazil offered ground support. Normal service resumed after the world war with civil war in Paraguay, the Dominican Republic and Costa Rica. A decade of war broke out in Colombia in 1948, though that country sent a force to help in Korea where it performed well. The 1950s was the decade of revolution. Puerto Rico, Bolivia, Guatemala, and, of course, Cuba. That island featured in the Bay of Pigs operation in 1961, but that decade also saw civil war in the Dominican Republic and various left-wing rebel movements, the most famous being Che Geuvara’s doomed effort in Bolivia.
There is a lot fighting to cover in Liberty or Death Latin American Conflicts and Jowett does a very good job of squeezing it all in to 352 pages. His text is clean if unexceptional with solid explanations of what went on in turbulent and often confusing times. There are also useful colour maps and many monochrome photographs but, surprisingly for an Osprey book, very few colour plates of uniforms. A useful bibliography is added for more in-depth research for those who want to dive into a fascinating but neglected theatre of almost constant warfare. 8/10.
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by RNS | May 24, 2020 | Beating Tsundoku
Andrew W. Field, The French at Waterloo: Eyewitness Accounts (Pen & Sword, 2020)
Waterloo is the battle. Outside of the United States, the Battle of Waterloo, fought on 18 June 1815, has been the most discussed engagement in military history. Historians at all levels of competence have poured over the events of that day, producing hundreds of books and articles on every facet of what was undoubtedly the most decisive battle in European history. But beyond the broad-brush strokes, sketching in the major events, there is still no full agreement on the details of how or why the French under Napoleon Bonaparte lost to the combined Anglo-Dutch and Prussian armies. Andrew Field has written extensively on the battle, but he too concedes that his interpretations are open to question. The French at Waterloo: Eyewitness Accounts is Field’s presentation of the eyewitness evidence he used to create his analysis of the battle. It is an absorbing and stimulating read.
The French at Waterloo opens unusually and helpfully with a brief synopsis of his twenty-six eyewitnesses in his contents section. These are divided into four chapters: Napoleon’s own accounts; those from his Household; descriptions of events from the Imperial Headquarters; and the testimonies of those out in the field fighting the battle. Field is quick to intercept critics of his selections and translations, fending them off with a brief explanation of his motive and method and a survey of the pitfalls of dealing with this type of historical evidence. He also acknowledges that his editing of the sources inevitably supports his interpretation of the battle. Thus disarmed, we move on to the eyewitnesses. Field usefully prefaces each account with a short biography of the witness and their place on the battlefield and in the historical record. The accounts are judiciously edited to keep them on point, and along with Field’s descriptions are invariably interesting. Being from the ‘new’ school of ground-up military history, I enjoyed the accounts of soldiers more than the operational level machinations of senior officers, with Private Louis Canler’s chaotic experience my highlight of the collection. Field concludes with a perhaps unnecessary appendix for the French Order of Battle.
Sources are the backbone of history without which we are stumbling around in the darkness, searching for answers that cannot be found. They must be handled with care, however, and for such a cataclysmic event like Waterloo we need an expert guide. Field certainly fits that description for The French at Waterloo. He welcomes his readers into the debate over how Waterloo is interpreted, allowing them to work with the sources and come to their own conclusions. For a book like this, you cannot ask for anything more. I am looking forward to the second volume in this series with great anticipation. 10/10.
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by RNS | May 23, 2020 | Beating Tsundoku
Andrew Milburn, When the Tempest Gathers (Pen & Sword, 2020)
It is a sobering thought that the War on Terror has continued long enough for combatants to write their memoirs. Yet, how many of us really know anything about this strand of our history beyond basic and sporadic news items? Andrew Milburn’s When the Tempest Gathers is therefore quite the eye-opener.
After a prologue, recounting an attack in Mosul in 2016, Milburn begins his story with his joining the Marines just in time to miss the First Gulf War in 1991. He made it to Somalia, though, as a lieutenant in command of a mortar team, patrolling the notorious Green Line in Mogadishu where he saw his first combat against local insurgents. A while after he returned, Milburn took command of a Company then became a Battalion Operations Officer. He was in the Far East when 9/11 happened but took no part in the war in Afghanistan. As a Major, and part of the Coalition and Special Warfare Center (CSW), Milburn shipped out for the invasion of Iraq, leaving his role temporarily. Among his experiences, he assisted in friendly fire incidents and helped plan attacks on the enemy. The subsequent occupation was already turning sour when he returned to the US and the CSW.
Milburn was soon back in Iraq, at Fallujah on the eve of the US assault on that town. Milburn narrates his role in the bloody affair, fighting the Muj, in some detail. From there, he served in Anbar Province, where IEDs ruled, and onto Mosul. Milburn took command of the 3rd Battalion advisor team and was charged with securing the elections in his area. From there, Milburn was sent to Afghanistan as an advisor then back to Iraq. He left there in June 2005 and took up a planning position for a potential future war in Korea. He was promoted to battalion commander in 2007 and returned to Iraq and the town of Karma, and the beginnings of ISIS. His battalion pacified the town after a struggle, then Milburn returned to the US. His next hazardous assignment was helping arrange evacuations from Libya in 2011. The next year, Milburn took command of a Marine Special Operations Regiment. After a personal tragedy, Milburn was back in Iraq, fighting ISIS alongside the Peshmerga with considerable success. He concludes his memoir with his retirement and some sobering thoughts on US policy and the squandering of American lives in seemingly pointless wars.
When the Tempest Gathers is a remarkable memoir on many levels. It is full of action and incident. Milburn has you on the edge of your seat as you follow him around the chaotic modern battlefield, fighting enemies you rarely see but when you do it is often up close and personal. Milburn’s account is full of tactical insight, as you might expect, but he is also an expert through experience on the psychology of combat. In addition, Milburn weighs up America’s allies and enemies with nuance rather than discrimination, which is refreshing, and he is scathing on US policy in Iraq. Finally, Milburn brings out the personal and emotional side of being a soldier, and you will see why he refers to his ‘gallery of ghosts’ that still haunt him. As a writer, Milburn is a well-read man, able to set his experiences into a literary context as well as the pragmatic; he is a throwback in some ways to the warrior poets of the Twentieth Century’s conflicts. This memoir will stand the test of time and be read and understood by soldiers in the future. It is a pity that poor editing let him down on a few jarring occasions, but that does not detract from the excellence of Milburn’s memoir. 10/10
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by RNS | May 22, 2020 | Beating Tsundoku
Carl Rudolph Small, Memories Unleashed (Casemate, 2019)
How do we ‘see’ the Vietnam War? Not as a Hollywood movie with beginning, middle, and end set to orchestral waves of emotion. No, this was the first media war, told in snippets on the nightly news, digested in discordant bite-size chunks over TV dinners and ultimately found unpalatable. We do not know many names from Vietnam, a war with apparently few heroes, just shared suffering and sacrifice among everyone involved. Carl Rudolph Small’s, Memories Unleashed reflects that cultural fragmentation with forty-three memories strung together into a patchwork of experience, with no names but all pack-drill.
Small joined the Marines in 1969 as a private, served 13 months in Vietnam, received three promotions, and came back changed forever. The marine, as Small calls himself, came under fire on his first night in Vietnam, saw his first casualties, lost his first friends. And for the next year he fought the elusive enemy and their booby-traps, and the environment; the heat, monsoon rains, rats, bugs, leeches, snakes, and a trapped tiger that stopped the war just for a moment. The firefights that run through the book were short, intense affairs of flashing light and noise; men died, others were wounded, then came the next mission and the next firefight. Along the way he found a puppy and wrote letters home to the girl he knew he would marry. That along with childhood memories and his religion motivated the marine to survive and do the best he could for his men. The marine describes the food, going for a swim, the dirty duty of latrine cleaning, giving lectures to new arrivals on how the enemy might kill them, and Christmas; he attended a Bob Hope show, sort of, then it was back into combat to become the hunter and the hunted. More fighting, more killing, then he went home, but Vietnam came with him and stayed in his nightmares.
Small’s memoir is not an enjoyable read, but it is a necessary one for those interested in how the Vietnam War was fought on the ground. Small achieves total emotional immersion for the reader, not an easy effect to pull off in a slim volume. He brings the sights, smells, and sounds of the war to the page, assisted by his snapshot kodak photographs of young men sent into a situation for which few were prepared. Small rarely considers the wider war and what it meant, concerned more for his squad and their small and often violent world. That might be a failing in other works on Vietnam, but here it adds to the intensity. Reading Small’s unleashed memories is an experience in itself.
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