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Document Published Aerospace Power Journal - Summer  2000

Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., American: An Autobiography by Benjamin O. Davis Jr. Smithsonian Institution Press (http://www.si.edu/organiza/offices/sipress/start.htm), 470 L’Enfant Plaza, Suite 7100, Washington, D.C. 20560, 2000 (paper reissue of 1991 hardcover), 442 pages.

Were life equitable, Benjamin O. Davis Jr. would be known as an extremely capable military officer who had a distinguished 34-year career characterized by dignity, professionalism, and ser-vice. After graduating 35th in the US Military Academy class of 1936, he led men in combat; won a Silver Star, croix de guerre, and other medals; and attained the rank of lieutenant general. But Davis is black. There has to be much frustration in having an irrelevant physical characteristic overshadow everything one has accomplished. As Davis says, “I do not find it complimentary to me or to the nation to be called ‘the first black West Point graduate in this century’ ” (p. 423). However, he is the first black airman to earn his wings, the first black Air Force general, and the son of the first black general. Until the world becomes color-blind, that is how history will record him.

This autobiography is thorough. Initially, there’s a spark—almost of bitterness—in the narrative. Davis records the racism that faced him at West Point, at Tuskegee in hostile white Alabama, and everywhere he went in the segregated South. As did his father, he preferred overseas assignments. There is still an undercurrent of anger in his writing about events of half a century before, such as the racism that silenced him at West Point and that assigned him to segregated units, including the Tuskegee Airmen, which he led into combat during World War II. His tone mellows, however, as he describes how he rose through the ranks and how society became officially less segregated.

Davis, a man of much dignity and reserve, has not written a kiss-and-tell book. He provides personal experience with discretion; there is a level below which he does not go. In some respects, he comes across as apolitical. For example, he dismisses Watergate, which occurred while he was an undersecretary in Richard Nixon’s Department of Transportation, in a paragraph. And he discusses the Vietnam War only as it affected his support mission as commander of Thirteenth Air Force at Clark Air Base in the Philippines.

Writing an autobiography is difficult because of the built-in conflict between being complete and being accurate. Not everything in a life matters beyond the moment, and an accurate reading of a life requires the writer to emphasize some things and deemphasize others. If Davis has a problem, it is that in his pursuit of completeness, he loses sight of truly significant events. His father told him early on that he should keep a record of his life; clearly, the young man took that advice. Indeed, the autobiography sometimes seems to be no more than an expanded diary filled with names and places.

A more elaborate context could have made this a really excellent man-and-his-times work. Autobiographers routinely supplement their memories and records with secondary material. For the most part, Davis does not. Only for an episode that he could have written in his sleep does he turn to an outside expert. In talking of the demise of segregation, he relies on Alan Gropman’s The Air Force Integrates rather than his personal knowledge. There just might be too much reserve in this American general.

Although not perfect, this book is still a solid autobiography. The career of Benjamin O. Davis Jr. shows the gradual transition from a segregated to an integrated military. The Smithsonian Institution Press has done a good job of reissuing the work in paper.

John H. Barnhill
Tinker AFB, Oklahoma

Modern Commercial Aircraft by Gunther Endres et al. Salamander Books Limited (http://www.combinedpublishing.com/1999salam.html), Combined Publishing, Inc., 476 West Elm Street, P.O. Box 307, Conshohocken, Pennsylvania 19428, 1998, 216 pages, $35.00.

Modern Commercial Aircraft is a well-illustrated, easy-to-read survey of commercial aircraft, airline operations, and modern aircraft construction. It covers most major airliners in service today and lists future projects under development at Airbus and Boeing. The book also deals with the huge market of airfreight operations. The final chapter provides an overview of airlines and their fleets in 1998, a helpful reference in determining who has the most modern fleet in the business.

The cornerstone of any Salamander book, however, is the illustrations—both the pictures of aircraft types and the excellent cutaway drawings. Non-British readers will discover through detailed discussion and drawings how aircraft that land at the two London airports—Heathrow and Gatwick—are stacked by air traffic control to ensure maximum usage of available airspace. A chapter entitled “Minor Aircraft” also allows the reader to track aircraft that have been retired from regular airline service but continue to haul freight around the world.

The book has a few minor typos that could have been avoided with careful editing, but they are not severe enough to detract from an otherwise excellent book. Mistakes in labeling aircraft depicted in photographs are more troubling, however. An Icelandair DC-8 is identified as a Boeing 757-200. Lumping the An-24/26/30/32 into one data block does no justice to this large fleet of cargo and passenger haulers in the former Soviet Union. Finally, the authors could have supplied a photo of the An-225 Mriya to show readers its enormous size, as they did for both the Super Guppy and Beluga airframes in service with Airbus.

Capt Gilles Van Nederveen, USAF
Maxwell AFB, Alabama

The War Journal of Major Damon “Rocky” Gause by Damon Gause. Hyperion Books (http://hyperionbooks.go.com), 77 West 66th Street, 11th Floor, New York, New York 10023, 1999, 183 pages, $21.95.

Trained as a dive-bomber pilot, Lt Rocky Gause commanded a mobile communications unit after the Japanese attacked the Philippines on 8 December 1941. Taken prisoner, he wasn’t long on the Bataan death march before he recognized that it could be detrimental to his well-being. So he escaped and swam three miles through shark-infested waters to Corregidor, whence he fled after Gen Jonathan “Skinny” Wainwright surrendered the island’s troops. At that point, he decided to head to Australia. On the run and nearly worn out by hunger, thirst, and exposure, he still managed to put together what someone subtitled “The Firsthand Account of One of the Greatest Escapes of World War II.” The trip covered more than three thousand miles through storms, sharks, and the Japanese. It took luck, pluck, and many friends.

Over the months, he and Capt Lloyd Osborne sailed their battered and often-repaired wooden outrigger boat on a thirty-two-hundred-mile trek, mostly island-hopping but with a final six-hundred-mile stretch of open water controlled by the Japa-nese, who at the time were trying to take Australia out of the war. Gause and Osborne were luckier than the several people who died along the way: the Filipino lieutenant Alberto Arranzaso, the sergeant who drowned or fell prey to a shark in the initial stages of the escape, and those whose fate was unknown but presumed worse than death. Among these were the nurses he left behind on Corregidor: Millie Dalton and Miss Kennedy from Philadelphia, Mississippi. Gause recognized that many times he was extremely lucky to find help just in time. It seemed that every island in the Philippines had at least a couple of Americans, and the Filipinos were always eager to help.

The foreword by Stephen Ambrose is one page in length, fairly innocuous, and probably unnecessary. As a rule, forewords should add something of value—not just a name on the cover. The introduction and epilogue by Damon L. Gause, the lieutenant’s son, however, are essential to the narrative. They provide the family background, give the tale a context, and take it to conclusion. From Damon we learn how Lieutenant Gause ended up in the Philippines and that he arrived in Australia, where he was promptly awarded a medal, promoted, and shipped home to sell bonds. We also learn that he was by no means through with war. Not wanting the comfortable stateside billet, he pulled strings to get an assignment to the European theater. On his final day, he tested a P-47 converted for use on D day as a low-altitude fighter with dive-bombing capability. He never pulled out of the dive.

I could easily find this book offensive—or at least annoying. It is unquestionably macho, racist, and sexist. Certainly, that’s not acceptable today. Still, I am not overly perturbed. I try not to impose my values on the past. So how do I feel about this book? I like it both for the story it tells and for the way it captures, for good or ill, the ambience of a lost time. Rocky Gause and his story come from a simpler time, a simpler world when war was black and white—and when courage, patriotism, and duty meant more than retirement benefits; “don’t ask, don’t tell”; or career advancement. On the other hand, here you will find a lot of “Japs” and occasionally a simpleminded or nappy-headed native, but that’s part of Gause’s world also.

John H. Barnhill
Tinker AFB, Oklahoma

Towards Mach 2: The Douglas D-558 Program edited by J. D. Henley. NASA History Office (http://www.hq.nasa.gov/office/pao/History/history.html), Code ZH, Washington, D.C. 20546, 1999, 161 pages.

Towards Mach 2 is based on transcripts from a symposium held on the history of the D-558 program at NASA’s Dryden Flight Research Center. The editor combines the formal symposium pre-sentation, held on the 50th anniversary of the aircraft’s first flight, with the round-robin discussion from the night before. Symposium participants included four of the original research pilots—Stanley P. Butchart; Robert A. Champine; A. Scott Crossfield, the first person to fly faster than Mach 2; and John Griffith—talking about their experiences with the D-558 and its launch aircraft, a naval version of the B-29. Dr. Richard P. Hallion, the Air Force historian, also spoke about the program. To ensure accuracy, the editor submitted his draft to the participants for review.

During the late 1930s and early 1940s, when aircraft approached Mach 1, accidents happened due to compressibility—the increased density and disturbed airflow that occurs near the speed of sound. Obviously, the transsonic gap (between Mach .75 and Mach 1.3) needed further research. Since aerodynamicists did not have wind tunnels, used for studying airflow at those speeds, they would have to use supersonic-capable aircraft. The Army Air Forces favored a rocket-powered airplane—the famous Bell X-1, ably piloted by Chuck Yeager and other test pilots. The Navy, however, wanted a longer-duration turbojet-powered aircraft that could fly in the transsonic regime on missions lasting up to 20 minutes and that could collect data. The Navy gave a proposal for the test jet to a Douglas engineer, who took it back to his company.

Since the X designation—used in the X-2, a swept-wing, rocket-powered test aircraft, and the X-1—was an Air Force–only designation, the Navy plane received the designation D-558, Douglas’s number for the project. The D-558 contract specified six airplanes for a total of almost $7 million, a bargain price for what the American public got. The first three aircraft, D-558-1s, were comparable to the Bell X-1 in that they allowed engineers to study transsonic speeds and compressibility problems. Unlike the Bell X-1, the D-558-1 could loiter in the transsonic region and bring back much more data, which showed that in that region, lateral stability deteriorated, wing dropping occurred, and trim was affected. The D-558-1 program led to the use of vortex generators to enhance stability, an improvement for which anyone who flies commercially today should be thankful.

Initially, the D-558-2 was a rocket- and jet-powered, swept-wing aircraft comparable to the Air Force’s X-2. The second aircraft in the D-558-2 series—tail-number NACA 144, the aircraft in which Scott Crossfield reached Mach 2 on 20 November 1953 and now displayed in the Smithsonian—was all rocket-powered. In his portion of the proceedings, Crossfield mentions a problem with radio discipline on the D-558-2 program flights, which led him to realize that only one person, preferably a pilot, should be in radio contact with the pilot of the aircraft. This practice would carry on through the Apollo, Mercury, and Gemini space programs.

At the end of the book, Henley gives a short description of the aircraft and notes the location of the other two D-558-2s. Tail-number NACA 143 is in storage in the Planes of Fame Museum, Ontario, California, and tail-number 145 is on display in front of Antelope Valley College in Lancaster, California.

For those who remember The Right Stuff, the book about Chuck Yeager and the Mercury program, this book provides an interesting view of the Navy’s parallel program. Although the X-1 proved that the sound barrier could be broken, the D-558 brought home the hard data that allowed humans to fly safely at Mach 1. A well-written, amply illustrated, easy-to-read book with much documentation, Towards Mach 2 is a must for anyone interested in the aviation test programs of the 1950s.

Capt Sheila-Llyn K. Van Nederveen, USAFR
Maxwell AFB, Alabama

Desert Storm: A Forgotten War by Alberto Bin, Richard Hill, and Archer Jones. Praeger Publishers (http://www.greenwood.com/praeger. htm), 88 Post Road West, P. O. Box 5007, Westport, Connecticut 06881-5007, 1998, 282 pages, $22.95 (paper).

If not forgotten, Desert Storm has certainly been misunderstood. Despite an unprecedented amount of real-time information made available through the media, most of the military personnel who participated in Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm had a very limited view of the Gulf War. As part of Task Force Ripper, I had a fair understanding of the “big picture,” but like most Gulf War veterans, I was focused on small-unit leadership and problems at the tactical level. Conversely, those focused on the CNN analysis and daily CINC briefings did not have the same appreciation for the details and issues of the executors. Another factor impacting the understanding of this war is the neat division that so many have used to separate the war exclusively into either the air campaign or the ground campaign. Finally, there has been an enormous amount of postwar analysis of specific areas in isolation. These analyses often fail to consider the issues that brought on the conflict; the information known at the time; the strategic, operational, and tactical levels of war; and the political and economic factors of this conflict.

Desert Storm: A Forgotten War incorporates these forgotten factors in order to provide a comprehensive account of the military achievements of the coalition forces during the Gulf War. The book develops a complete understanding of the cause, buildup, conduct, and results of the Gulf War. Because of this, it is just as valuable to those who fought in the gulf—regardless of whether they fought in the air, on land, or at sea—as it is to those who supported our troops from the United States.

The major theme of the book is that the coalition forces achieved their political and military objectives. The military success was a result of a combined-arms campaign using air, naval, and ground forces that was coordinated with deception, psychological operations, and surprise and that took advantage of the superior training of the US forces. The book dispels popular myths about the war by concluding that smart bombs did not win the war and have been overestimated, that the coalition should not have and could not have overrun Baghdad, and that Iraq did not escape with relatively few casualties and probably suffered 50,000 soldiers killed during the war.

Extensive maps and charts help the reader follow the developing situation. The authors put their research in context by including countless summary narratives that provide firsthand accounts with viewpoints ranging from top-level generals to frontline fighters, both in the air and on the ground. While there are some subject areas that could be covered in more detail, such as POWs, women in combat, and breaching operations; the strength of the book is that it is a brief but comprehensive, stimulating but factual, overview of the Gulf War. To those who read this book, Desert Storm will be remembered, not forgotten—but more importantly, it will be better understood.

Lt Col Drew Bennett, USMC
Twentynine Palms, California

The Deadly Brotherhood: The American Combat Soldier in World War II by John C. McManus. Presidio Press (http://www.presidiopress.com), 505B San Marin Drive, Suite 300, Novato, California 94945-1340, 1998, 353 pages, $28.95.

In contrast to a “stolid examination of military doctrine, strategy, or generalship,” John McManus offers a clear vision of combat witnessed through the eyes of frontline soldiers and marines. Skillfully weaving a diverse collection of firsthand accounts, he transports the reader to the grim scene of war’s most violent visage. As a father writes to his son, “War is a more terrible thing than all the words of man can say; more terrible than a man’s mind can comprehend. It is the corpse of a friend, one moment ago a living human being with thoughts, hope and a future just exactly like yourself.”

The current climate, as revealed by the success of such movies as Saving Private Ryan and The Thin Red Line, suggests that McManus’s intimate look at the life of the combat soldier will be favorably received—as well it should. The book’s two sections examine both the world and soul of the combat soldier. The former discusses the identity of the soldier as well as the food, equipment, and weapons upon which he depended. Conditions in the European and Pacific theaters are treated separately. The subjects of actual combat and becoming a casualty complete the first half of the book. As one soldier wrote, “Sgt Glisch came walking by me, heading rearward. There was a hole in his helmet and blood running down his face—a face covered with a boyish grin. That million dollar wound! I felt left out, and wished I had a bullet through an arm or a leg.” Understanding both the earnest desire to be wounded and to find reprieve from the ever-present specter of combat provides a glimpse into the combat veteran’s mind.

The section addressing the soul of the soldier analyzes the differing views of American troops toward their German and Japanese enemies. Ethnic and cultural distinctions made it difficult for most Americans to relate to their adversaries in the Pacific, but the ruthless nature of war in that theater had the most influence on the troops. Don Zobel, while on an independent patrol, found a body: “There he is . . . a fellow Marine. His face is not recognized; perhaps I have never met him. None of this seems to matter now. He is my brother. How many times had my fellow Marine felt the slicing and piercing of the Japanese bayonet? There must be at least 30 bayonet wounds. His penis is cut off and shoved into his mouth in the Japanese way of the ultimate insult. His once handsome features and dark complexion are now obscured by ants.” Powerful quotations such as this convey the reader directly to terrible scenes in distant jungles and forests. Upon emerging from these dark places, we find that we have gained a new respect for the veterans who survived these horrors to resume normal lives in a civilized society.

The chapter on leadership will be of particular value to military officers. Since the competence of the commander often provided the measure between life and death, soldiers took great interest in their superiors. This was especially true of “junior officers (platoon leaders, company commanders and so forth) [who] were far more relevant than those who occupied high command.” McManus states that these junior commanders “had the most difficult role in the meat grinder of World War II,” admitting that some of them failed to muster the courage and character needed to lead their men successfully. Fortunately, in the words of William McLaughlin of the Americal Division, “the closer you got to the front, the better the caliber of officers.”

If the volume has a flaw, it is the sense one gets that veterans who did not face the jaws of the front lines are somehow “less” than their peers who lived day in and day out under the threat of death. Although I am certain the author did not intend to communicate such a slight, it runs as a very subtle undercurrent through various portions of the book. For example, in justifying his decision to exclude artillerymen other than forward observers from the text, McManus points out that “infantry soldiers suffered an average of 92 percent of a typical division’s battle casualties, as opposed to 4 percent for the artillery.” This statistic raises the question of the ratio of casualties to the number of personnel assigned. If actual casualty rates are the criteria for determining who truly “fought” the war, how might these compare with those for crews of particular aircraft or naval vessels such as submarines? Still, this reservation about Deadly Brotherhood is a minor one and does not diminish the value of the book.

In one sense, the distinction highlights the element that knits combat soldiers into a tight brotherhood. Frank Nisi, of the 3d Infantry Division, sums up the difference quite well: “I would venture to say that only a very small percentage really know what war is all about. . . . It gets down to the man with the rifle who has to live in the ground . . . then go without sleep for several days and get up and fight, hike, run, creep, or crawl 25 miles or so. During this time the echelons in rear of him move up in vehicles, get their night’s sleep and wait for him to advance again.” Such shared hardships and danger on the front lines could surely forge a devoted fraternity.

The book is not an unremitting litany of the horrors of war (“You did not smell the dead; you tasted them far up the nose and back in the throat”). Without shying away from the violence and fear, the author includes reminiscences of humorous and hopeful experiences, the likes of which allowed most combat soldiers to maintain their sanity (“God bless the USA toilet paper industry”). Despite the fact that the focus remains on the microcosm of battle, the book also discusses issues with broader implications, such as the Geneva Convention protocols.

A constant underlying theme, echoed in recent films about the era, is that these combat soldiers did not fight and die for abstract concepts such as democracy and patriotism. Although such things may have motivated their enlistment, when they faced the jagged edge of unrelenting battle, something more kept them from fleeing to save themselves. This, of course, was the “brotherhood.” They relied on each other and in many cases sacrificed their lives for one another. A rifleman from the 32d Infantry Division wrote that “survival for one’s self was the first priority by far. The second priority was survival for the man next to you and the man next to him. So, right or wrong, love of country and pride in the unit . . . was a good bit behind.”

Were this simply a collection of veterans’ reflections, Deadly Brotherhood would be worthy of purchase—but it is far more. McManus achieves his goal of providing a comprehensive portrayal of the combat soldier in World War II, and his adept writing and editing have provided a great service to members of the US armed forces.

Chaplain, Maj Robert Stroud, USAF
March AFB, California

The Greatest War: Americans in Combat, 1941–1945 by Gerald Astor. Presidio Press (http://www.presidiopress.com), 505B San Marin Drive, Suite 300, Novato, California 94945-1340, 1999, 1,033 pages, $39.95.

This book is an incredible oral history of World War II. However, it is not a chronology of battles. Instead, Gerald Astor, esteemed author of numerous narrations, presents “a sense of what the American fighting man” experienced in terms of what he “thought, felt, saw, heard, and tried to do.”

The Greatest War encapsulates the sheer magnitude of the war. From the beginning of that fateful day in December 1941, when most of the sailors at Pearl Harbor thought it was “yet another damned drill,” to the end, when the pilots “were able to see through the heavy welder’s goggles a brilliant flash of light,” Astor presents a sense of what the American fighting spirit was like.

The shelves now overflow with one-volume histories of that war—books containing few speakers other than their authors—and with exhaustive official histories. So, why, one may ask, do we need yet another book on World War II?

Gerald Astor has combined the meticulousness of an exhaustive history with a narrative that touches on most of the war’s most important engagements by interjecting the reminiscences of hundreds of participants. Just as Stephen Ambrose has an ability to “let the soldier tell it like it is,” Astor has a knack for preparing a great narrative by expertly weaving the words and thoughts as told by ordinary soldiers.

Told mainly from the viewpoint of the sailors, soldiers, airmen, and marines who fought it, this tribute to the “Good War” covers a wide range of experiences. Well written, smartly compartmentalized, and thoroughly engrossing, The Greatest War is the next great classic.

Maj Dominic J. Caraccilo, USA
Fort Benning, Georgia

The Greatest Generation by Tom Brokaw. Random House (http://www.randomhouse.com), 201 East 50th Street, New York, New York 10022, 1998, 390 pages, $24.95.

It should come as no surprise that The Greatest Generation has continued its reign on the best-sellers lists as long as it has. Brokaw’s tribute has struck a resonant chord in America. We are a land hungry for heroes—and heroes are exactly what he provides us. But these heroes are common folk not all that different from us, aside from the fact that they were products of a generation and culture that equipped them to pass tests of personal character at least as great as any challenges we have known. For his tribute to this pivotal American generation and the consequent resurgence of a recognition of the value of patriotism, the Congressional Medal of Honor Society bestowed its Patriot Award on Brokaw.

What makes this passing generation unique? How can the author justify labeling it our “greatest”? Furthermore, if these people were truly so exceptional, is there any way in which we can recapture a portion of their legacy today? These are the questions this volume explores. In 41 brief chapters, Brokaw provides biographical snapshots of more than 50 members of the generation who entered adulthood as the world endured the flames of the Second World War. He argues persuasively that the values and fabric of our nation—despite its imperfections—equipped these women and men to face enormous challenges and overcome obstacles, even as they expended their sweat and blood to protect and extend democracy and freedom.

Rather than downplay the differences among Americans in the first half of the twentieth century, Brokaw acknowledges that they came from diverse social and geographic backgrounds: “They were not lockstep in their ideologies. Their varied views on social, diplomatic, and military questions” were particularly manifest in their postwar contributions to our nation’s development (p. 330). This is an important message of the text. The sacrifices and labors of many of the individuals whose lives were tested by this global conflict continued to build the United States into the world’s foremost power, even as the echoes of gunfire and explosions dimmed in their memories. But they did not forget entirely, as we are reminded by Charles Van Gorder, a surgeon in the 101st Airborne who participated in the D day invasion: “I have flashbacks of the war every day. You can’t get it out of your mind” (p. 35). Sustained by his faith in God through combat and captivity, this hero describes how he and his fellow surgeons operated nonstop for 36 hours, until “finally I got so tired my head fell down into an open abdomen” (p. 28).

Brokaw goes to great lengths to affirm that the nobility of this generation is not restricted to its combatants. People on the home front pitched in to do their share and work toward victory. He also mentions (repeatedly) that this generation was not without its flaws, particularly “the stains of racism that were pervasive in practice and in policy” (p. 183). For some readers, the validity of this sad truth would be more powerful if Brokaw mentioned it less frequently in his narrative and allowed the far more persuasive testimonies of its victims to stand on their own stark merit. A case in point is the shocking story of Sgt Johnnie Holmes, who “encountered real, bitter racial hatred and segregation for the first time” when he arrived for training in Kentucky. Brokaw records that “Holmes is persuaded that Fort Knox dentists experimented on the black soldiers. He remembers being strapped in a dentist chair and getting his teeth drilled with no novocaine” (p. 195).

Due to the large number of individuals whose stories are told in this book, it is no exaggeration to say that The Greatest Generation includes something for everyone. Some will find the combat stories inspiring, and others will be moved by the many stories of love and fidelity. Still others will find the postwar accounts of community service and a strong commitment to a profound work ethic particularly intriguing. Some will see parallels between these stories and the lives of their parents and grandparents; others will have their eyes opened to a panorama of patriotism heretofore unseen.

Although the overall tone of the book is serious, as befits a discussion of war, its pages provide ample occasion for humor. Likewise, it includes a number of surprises, such as the tale of Julia Child, who found herself ineligible for the Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service (WAVES) due to her height (six feet, two inches). Eventually, she worked her way into the Office of Strategic Services and ended up in Bombay, India. Child, now in her eighties, relates that sailing aboard a troopship was quite memorable: “The trip was quite jolly. There were not very many women and lots of boys” (p. 301). Art Buchwald and Andy Rooney also share their unique insights into military life. The book includes the stories of a number of people with recognizable names, but the majority of experiences are recounted by average people—not too different from us.

Some readers have alleged subtle undercurrents of bias in The Greatest Generation. Although Brokaw has never made his personal politics a secret, this reviewer suspects that any such instances are unintentional. Still, in a chapter stating that President George Bush “represents an unequaled record of public service,” it is slightly disconcerting to read phrases such as “by his own admission George Bush is not a reflective man” and “he answered in that clumsy but endearing way of his” (pp. 275–78).

A more valid, but understandable, shortcoming of the volume is Brokaw’s propensity toward hyperbole. One assumes that this is unavoidable, given the assumption of the title that here we have a generation of men and women who dwarf both their ancestors and descendants. Still, Brokaw does not belittle America’s other generations (although he notes the inability of many members of his favored generation to understand the mind and values of their own children and grandchildren). Instead, he sets the members of this esteemed generation on a pedestal, as it were, in the hope that we can both learn from them, recapturing the essence of what made them unique, and remember to share a well-deserved “thank you” with each of them—while we still have the opportunity.

Chaplain, Maj Robert Stroud, USAF
March AFB, California

Disclaimer

The conclusions and opinions expressed in this document are those of the author cultivated in the freedom of expression, academic environment of Air University. They do not reflect the official position of the U.S. Government, Department of Defense, the United States Air Force or the Air University.

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