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Published Airpower Journal - Spring 1998

The most valuable of all talents is never using two words when one will do.

—Thomas Jefferson

The Lebanon War by A. J. Abraham. Greenwood Publishing Group, 88 Post Road West, Westport, Connecticut 06881-5007, 1996, 216 pages, $55.00.

The Lebanon War provides a chronological study of the civil war that has plagued the Lebanese people. A. J. Abraham, who teaches at John Jay College and New York Institute of Technology and has guest lectured on Lebanon at several colleges and universities in the United States, analyzes the period from the war’s genesis in April 1975 through the Israeli invasion and occupation of West Beirut in January 1982. He has contacts with both predominantly Christian, right-wing Lebanese forces as well as the overwhelmingly Moslem, left-wing, antigovernment National Movement. He provides a balanced review encompassing both the military and political aspects of the conflict.

The book’s highlight is its treatment of the immense complexity of the Lebanon conflict. The country contains a tremendous diversity of cultures, political ideologies, and religions. For de-cades prior to 1975, Christian Maronites, Moslem Druze, Greek Orthodox, and Greek Catholics, as well as Sunnite and Shi’ite Moslems lived and worked together, sharing power in the Lebanese government. A formula, based on population, that assigned major political posts to the different groups resulted in a relative balance of political and religious representation. A host of changes, such as shifts in demography and—perhaps more importantly—several major external sources of influence, disrupted this careful balance. These outside factors included occupation by the Palestine Liberation Organization, interventions by Syria and Israel, an influx of Soviet arms, and Iranian-sponsored Islamic fundamentalism. The accumulation of these factors combined to make the situation explosive. The author forecasts that there will be no simple solution to the problem, that no one victor will emerge, and that any future settlement must be the result of compromise.

I found the book a slow, laborious read. This is not so much an indictment of the book or the author’s style as it is the subject matter. The politics and shifting alliances of the various ethnic, reli-gious, and political groups seem endless and are quite difficult to follow. Perhaps the author could have provided more background information on the parties in the conflict, including their objectives and motivations. Such additions would assist the reader in digesting the material. On the positive side, the book is well researched and documented, including notes for each chapter. Although I do not recommend the book for casual reading, I do consider it an excellent source of information for continuing research.

Lt Col Chris Anderson, USAF
Maxwell AFB, Alabama

Peacekeeping: Outspoken Observations by a Field Officer by James H. Allan. Praeger Publishers, Westport, Connecticut 06881-5007, 1996, 156 pages.

Peacekeeping provides a perspective on military support to peace operations by a dyed-in-the-wool peacekeeper. In 37 years on active duty in the Canadian army, Colonel Allan served nearly three as a peacekeeper in five United Nations (UN) operations. From his experiences in Cyprus, Syria, Israel, Egypt, Lebanon, Iran, and Iraq, he makes his outspoken observations about the efficacy of UN peacekeeping operations—and they are outspoken indeed.

The author acknowledges biases in the preface, if only minimally. He notes that his “experience has created a bias that favors a ‘do nothing’ approach . . . that calls for very selective use of peacekeeping.” He also warns the reader of his utter disdain for the UN, saying, “If I appear to harp on the dysfunctions of the UN bureaucracy in the book it is because the UN is truly so bad.” Despite the forewarning, Allan’s biases are infused into the book, and it is often difficult to determine where the vitriol ends and the observations begin. For example, he “observes” that the UN civil affairs officer (CAO) did not rely on the military logistics officer’s expertise “in Cyprus or in most missions in which I served because of the incompetence, corruption, or deliberate obstructionism of various CAO’s.” Occasionally, he backs his criticism of the UN with good evidence, at least from a military perspective, especially when he highlights examples of bureaucratic stagnation in the UN Truce Supervision Organization in the Middle East.

If the reader can get past the polemic, the book discusses all aspects of a peacekeeping operation, from mandate to withdrawal. Military principles of unity of command and force protection get particular attention. So long as the author sticks with the military aspects of peacekeeping operations, the work offers some insights into the tactics involved. Unfortunately, he stays there far too seldom, and his observations on policy issues exceed his expertise. For example, he notes that “in UN peacekeeping, some senior officers and officials have remained in key positions far too long for their own good and for the effectiveness of the organization. Of course, the UN organization as a whole suffers greatly from this same disease.”

The work does offer occasional gems, many of which are curiously buried in the notes. For instance, in one footnote the author remarks, “When a peacekeeping operation is closed down, care should be taken to keep plans viable for quick reactivation of the force; politicians and diplomats should be slow to claim success; and most importantly, ‘success’ must be carefully defined.” Other significant pearls are the hard-learned lessons of the importance of a single set of agreed-upon maps, and that of the proper role of a peacekeeper—to set the conditions in which the peacemaker (politician) may work and achieve success.

But if the book is strong in examining peacekeeping, it is weak in exploring different types of peace operations. For example, Allan does not offer observations on peace-enforcement operations. His military perspective and admitted bias against enforcement operations probably both contribute to the void, but whether it is a result of deliberate direction or oversight is irrelevant; the result is that it limits the utility of the effort. Despite the author’s admonition against performing peace-enforcement operations, they appear to be on the rise as government bodies become less tolerant of regional instabilities.

All in all, Peacekeeping offers little new on the subject. Interested military professionals determined to glean its few insights need not go beyond the preface and chapter 1 (“An Overview of Peacekeeping”). Subsequent chapters describing the operations in which Allan participated are te-dious and redundant. In the rhetorically titled concluding chapter (“Peacekeeping: Renaissance or Empty Dream”), the author offers presumptuous suggestions about how the UN and world governments could best shape the international security environment with respect to peacekeeping. One might expect a few observations about how military professionals might best accomplish peacekeeping tasks, but, alas, even this is too much to expect. Do not waste your time.

Lt Col Kevin Curry, USAF
Fairfax, Virginia

At Belleau Wood by Robert B. Asprey. University of North Texas Press, P.O. Box 13856, Denton, Texas 76203-6856, 1996, 376 pages, $18.95 (paperback).

In 1997 Robert Asprey emerged as the consummate military historian. His recent works, Frederick the Great, War in the Shadows (revised and updated version), and The German High Command at War have brought critical praise for their detail and keen insight into the mind of the military professional. He is currently hard at work researching a book about Napoléon that promises heretofore unrevealed aspects about this military genius.

To understand how Asprey arrived at where he now stands in the world of military historians, one needs to read his earlier works. The University of North Texas Press’s reprint of At Belleau Wood serves as that vehicle. The budding military historian would be well served by reading this book, which shows Asprey at his best—detailed, analytical, precise, sparing in dramatization (since his research into diaries and letters do that best), and insightful into the demeanor of the American soldier at war.

At Belleau Wood remains a masterful narrative. More importantly, this book has lost none of its relevance. Why? If the reader substitutes the situation in which the American Expeditionary Force found itself at Belleau Wood with the situation in which it now finds itself in Bosnia, the relevance becomes all too clear: extended presence in an unfamiliar nation, stagnant combined-arms training, aviation limited by weather and technology, and erstwhile allied support.

In the spring of 1918, Gen Erich Ludendorff transferred 70 divisons from the eastern to the western front as a result of the chaos in Russia. He then began a series of offensive battles designed to shatter the British army, finish off the French army, and allow the German army entry into Paris and final victory. By late May 1918, the German assaults—some of them dismal failures, others surprisingly successful—were approaching an offensive climax. Ludendorff made one more offensive push with very low reserves, high casualties, and sinking morale. The latter resulted from the presence of American units arriving at the front in ever growing numbers.

By 3 June 1918, Ludendorff’s offensive had rolled all the way to Château-Thierry and a heavily forested area named Belleau Wood. However, on this particular day, 85,000 American troops belonging to the 2d and 3d Infantry Divisions counterattacked his army and in a weeklong battle, pushed them back. This marked the beginning of the end of the Great War. Furthermore, this battle greatly boosted Allied morale; further bloodied American units, giving them seasoned unit leaders and shorter supply lines; and made Gen John Pershing a more important partner at the Allied council of war. Many more things happened because of Belleau Wood, especially the fact that future American combat leaders learned how to fight with the efficiency of a perfect killing machine.

The carnage of World War I made a profound impact on the American military but had its greatest effect on the Marine Corps, whose infantry realized they were expendable as they witnessed hundreds of thousands of Allied and enemy soldiers being mowed down by murderous machine gun and artillery fire. But the enemy learned something about the Americans. As a Marine sergeant told Philip Caputo during the Vietnam War, “Before you leave here, Sir, you’re going to learn that one of the most brutal things in the world is your average nineteen-year-old American boy.” Add to this memorable line the idea that the 19-year-old might fail in a battle and bring disgrace to his nation, unit, and branch of the service, and one has the making of a power that cannot be stopped. This is the lesson of Belleau Wood.

By 8 June 1918, the American units assigned to defend the grounds of Belleau Wood from Ludendorff’s all-out offensive had tactically “failed.” All of the intelligence his units had gathered made it clear to Ludendorff that he had beaten the Americans. However right his “intelligence,” his conclusion was wrong. He did not understand that General Pershing had a nearly unlimited supply of military units inbound to Europe and could afford the human cost of continued efforts against the Germans. Nor did Ludendorff appreciate the tenacious quality of Americans to see a situation through, no matter how unpleasant, once they accepted it. These two factors cost Germany and its allies the Great War.

Key concepts the military professional should gain from the book are found in chapters 16 and 17, which include the key to understanding how to fight in this kind of situation and 11 factors for insuring victory. When war finally engulfs our troops in Bosnia—and it will—the conflict will resemble Belleau Wood: “small-unit warfare in the fullest sense; dirty, murderous fighting against entrenched machine guns flanked by other machine guns that [take] the most awful toll.” Another lesson from this war, soon to be relearned, entails the horrors and confusion of chemical warfare, as related in chapter 19. The book also emphasizes the fact that war fighters need to understand the importance of accurate maps and guidance systems.

Further, the book reminds us of the significant role of public relations. Colonel Upton, USMC, in a report to Major General Bundy, USMC, stated that the Belleau Wood “attack went off like a dress rehearsal and I regret we did not take moving pictures of it.” However, this battle would be the last one marines would go into without recording every action scene. After Belleau Wood, Asprey writes, there were even more vicious battles between the Army and the Marine Corps over the sometime outlandish media coverage the Marines received concerning the great victories in Europe. Asprey covers this from a Marine viewpoint (after all, he is a retired Marine captain), but it is factual and well documented. The real viewpoint that military scholars should hold is, Could a green American expeditionary unit composed of marines and Army infantry hold against crack enemy units, and can they win?

The American public never knew much about faulty command decisions, nothing of command ignorance and confusion, very little of the incredible sacrifices and courage of junior officers and noncommissioned officers, and very little of the pain and utter depravity of omnipresent death. All the American public wanted to know was, Can we win? Belleau Wood gave them their answer. For the professional who has read this work, the reprint is worth buying and presenting to the younger professional just entering the service. For the seasoned professional who missed this book, the University of North Texas Press has done the military a great service by reprinting it so we can apply its lessons to our next military involvement.

D. G. Bradford
Orlando, Florida

Adolf Galland: The Authorised Biography by David Baker. Windrow and Greene Ltd., 5 Gerrard Street, London W1V 7LJ, 1996, 308 pages, $27.95.

When it comes to studying military history, few types of books can give the reader an opportunity to explore the personal factors that led to significant and sometimes curious decisions in time of war. Biographies are an incredibly important tool for this purpose. They reveal valuable insight, as well as significant and interesting background information, and show the student of history the personalities and idiosyncrasies of the combatants—friend and foe alike. As far as biographies themselves go, Adolf Galland: The Authorised Biography is a welcome addition to the ranks of World War II Luftwaffe history. Although the topic itself is not particularly new and is just one of several books already written about the famous Luftwaffe fighter general, David Baker’s addition is not just a rehash of old material written in a new light.

Baker was born in England during World War II and has considerable expertise in aviation as an aerospace scientist and engineer. In 1986 he was elected to membership in the prestigious International Academy of Aeronautics and has worked with several intelligence agencies. He is an accomplished author and since the early 1960s has published over 50 books and five hundred articles, including biographies of Manfred von Richthofen and Billy Bishop, World War I Canadian ace. His book on Galland is unique in that he used many hours of personal interviews with Galland, secondary sources, and declassified intelligence reports from World War II. The book is replete with detailed notes and photos, giving the reader an excellent picture of the man himself. Unfortunately, it does not include footnotes and an index. Other minor additions might have further enhanced the overall appeal of the book. A list of Galland’s victories by date, place of combat, and type of aircraft destroyed, as well as color plates documenting the specific paint schemes of the aircraft he flew in combat, would have added to the book. Even without these items, however, Baker’s study is still exceptional.

The author gives a full, well-balanced account of Galland’s life from his childhood in a broken Germany following World War I; through his teenage years, spent fulfilling his burning desire to fly airplanes; until his death on 9 February 1996. Baker is masterful in presenting the reader with an amazingly detailed and personable look at a young man who at the age of 29 was the youngest general in the German Luftwaffe.

The bulk of the book details Galland’s combat accomplishments from the Spanish Civil War with the Legion Kondor, through World War II, during which he commanded the JV-44 “Squadron of Experts,” flying the revolutionary Messerschmitt Me-262 jet fighter. Apart from learning that Galland was an exceptionally gifted combat pilot with 104 confirmed aerial victories—58 of those during the Battle of Britain—the reader will walk away from this book with a newfound appreciation for this man’s superb operational and tactical organizational skills, as well as his burning passion to support his men and his beloved Luftwaffe fighter arm.

The book details his successes as a combat pilot, squadron and group commander, and eventually General of the Fighters. His overwhelming success in planning Channel Dash, the complex and dangerous operation to move the German warships Prinz Eugen, Gneisenau, and Scharnhorst from France to Norway through the English Channel, is just one indication of his leadership capabilities. Likewise, his continual battles with Hermann Göring over operational matters highlighted Galland’s willingness to fight for those principles he knew to be both correct and essential for the survival of the Luftwaffe fighter forces and Germany as well. As Göring’s ineptness and inability to grasp the complexities of modern air war become more evident, these battles grew in intensity and eventually led to Galland’s dismissal as General of the Fighters in January 1945. The disputes over Hitler’s initial proposal to use the Me-262 jet as a blitz bomber instead of an air superiority fighter, the piecemeal use of German fighters to stem the growing tide of American daylight bombers, the disintegration of German pilot training, and the persistent problem of increasing fighter production were battles against the hierarchy he continually fought. Galland achieved only moderate success regarding a couple of these issues.

These miniwars fought by Galland truly show the character of a great, ingenious, capable, and duty-bound man of honor. Even after being fired by Göring and relieved of all duties, he insisted on returning to combat to be with his men. He continued to fly and fight against insurmountable odds until the last days of the war. As commander of JV-44, he issued his final order of the war—the destruction of every Me-262 at Salzburg and Innsbruck—from a Tegernsee hospital bed, recovering from injuries he sustained on his final combat mission.

Adolph Galland is an exceptional biography and will complement and expand any serious student’s study of the Luftwaffe or Galland himself. It is a must purchase for anyone interested in World War II aviation or anyone concerned with learning more about one of the war’s most capable, dedicated, noble, and competent combat leaders.

Maj Robert F. Tate, USAF
Maxwell AFB, Alabama

All the Fine Young Eagles by Lt Col David L. Bashow. Stoddart Publishing, Toronto, Canada, 1996, 384 pages.

Anyone who has ever wondered what it was like to be a fighter pilot in World War II should read All the Fine Young Eagles. David Bashow’s book is an exciting, historically accurate, funny, and terrifying account of the day-to-day life of Canadian Spitfire, Hurricane, Kittyhawk, and Typhoon pilots serving in the Royal Canadian Air Force and Royal Air Force during World War II from the Battle of Britain to Malta to Burma to the Aleutians and back to Northwest Europe. He has compiled the personal accounts of the men who trained in Canada, moved to England, turned back Göring and the Luftwaffe over the English Channel, dueled with Messerschmitts and Focke-Wulfs in the Mediterranean out of Fortress Malta, faced Zeros in Burma and Alaska, and swept the skies clear of the Nazis over Northwest Europe. He covers their exploits, triumphs, and tragedies in a chronological fashion, moving crisply through the campaigns and giving the reader strategic and operational background, as well as an up-close perspective on the equipment, tactics, and people involved in Canada’s significant contribution to the air campaign in World War II.

This is a fascinating story, largely expressed in the words of the fighter pilots themselves. Bashow, who is a serving jet fighter pilot of the Canadian Forces, has assembled an impressive collection of anecdotes related to him by the surviving veterans or uncovered in their writings and memoirs, which reflect the pilots’ unvarnished perspectives on equipment, each other, and their allies and opponents. He has provided the historical framework upon which their stories are arrayed—and the result is outstanding. From one page to the next, the momentous decisions of the campaigns are made, and readers find themselves in the cockpit of a fighter plane struggling with the sharp end of the plans.

The story is not without lighter moments common to any military campaign, as Bashow relates to us what life as a fighter pilot was really like. He brings to life the living conditions, the frequent moves, and the routine nature of base life behind the front lines, disrupted by daily instances of stark terror.

All the Fine Young Eagles is an important book. Canada’s contribution to World War II was enormously significant and out of all proportion to its population and industrial capacity. Because the fighter pilots of that era are a vanishing breed, it is important that we preserve their memories. American students of World War II and fans of air campaigns should read this book—and it is a must for Canadians.

Lt Col James G. Diehl, USA
Fort Monroe, Virginia

Over There: A Marine in the Great War by Carl Andrew Brannen. Texas A&M University Press, Drawer C, College Station, Texas 77843-4354, 1996, 167 pages, $24.95.

When America declared war in 1917, Carl A. Brannen was an 18-year-old freshman at Texas A&M. He finished out the fall semester of his sophomore year and then enlisted in the Marine Corps in January 1918, reporting for boot camp in February. Immediately upon graduation, he was shipped overseas to France to join the American Expeditionary Force under Gen John Pershing’s command. After more training in Europe, he moved to the “front” to join the 6th Marine Regiment under the Army’s 2d Division as a replacement for marines killed in the first 48 hours of the battle of Belleau Wood.

Brannen kept a very good diary. We discover that he is not a heroic figure—just a marine trying to stay alive. He knows that a foxhole or trench is a valuable piece of real estate in face of murderous machine gun fire. Brannen understands and appreciates the difference between his gas mask and those the French have (they are better), so he watches for a spare one. He knows what hunger is and how much a hot meal means, when he can get one. He also knows what thirst is and how uncertain resupply is in a combat situation. Brannen quickly learns the difference in the sound of the explosion of a gas, shrapnel, or high-explosive shell.

He stayed in Belleau Wood until it was captured on the first of July, a great morale victory for all the Allied armies. Brannen wasn’t relieved until 16 July 1918. Instead of receiving a period of rest and recovery, he and his fellow marines were trucked to the battle area of Soissons, where he participated in an advance led by tanks. The Germans countered the attack with near-point-blank artillery, killing Brannen’s best friend. It took only 40 minutes for his regiment to be nearly annihilated.

Brannen, however, is a survivor. He participated in battles in Saint-Mihiel, Mont Blanc, and the Meuse-Argonne. Following the armistice, as a member of the 2d Division, his unit became part of the Army of Occupation. Pershing kept the army sharp by means of a rigorous postwar training program. Brannen writes about how morale plummeted in this situation since most soldiers only wanted to return home. Just when Brannen began to feel down, he was selected to join the ranks of a regiment referred to as Pershing’s Own. He had fought with the 4th Marine Brigade in every major battle and had survived—a claim few people could make. The 6th Regiment, composed of three thousand men, suffered 1,161 killed and over 4,656 wounded for total casualties of 5,817.

Over There is a very moving book. Brannen, who knows he was lucky to survive, is a quiet man in a heroic way. If it were not for his son and some dedicated scholars, the papers, photographs, and diary entries that tell his story would have been lost. This book, together with Robert Asprey’s At Belleau Wood, provides a poignant reminder of just how terrible war really is. All professionals should place this book in a special niche in their libraries, where they should read and reread it often.

D. G. Bradford
Orlando, Florida

Peace Operations: Developing an American Strategy by Antonia Handler Chayes and George T. Raach, eds. National Defense University Press, Washington, D.C., October 1995, 178 pages.

Peace Operations is a small but important volume. It is a compendium of papers prepared for the 1995 Commission on Roles and Missions (CORM) of the Armed Forces. With CORM all but a fading memory, one may be tempted to bypass this effort, but to do so would be a mistake. Reading it leaves little doubt that similar conclusions will emerge from the upcoming Quadrennial Defense Review (QDR).

The editors are experts on the subject. George Raach is a retired US Army colonel with a planning and operational background that includes work with the Office of the Secretary of Defense. For CORM, he chaired the group on the use of military forces for peace operations and was a member of several other groups. Antonia Chayes has extensive experience as a consultant on conflict resolution and was a member of the US Strategic Command’s Strategic Advisor Group. She also served as both an undersecretary and assistant secretary of the Air Force, and was selected by the secretary of defense as one of his 11 CORM commissioners.

In addition to essays by the editors, the book includes perspectives from six other authors: William Durch, J. Matthew Vaccaro, Christine Cervenak, A. J. Bacevich, William Rosenau, and Wendy Jordan. They collectively represent government, academia, and the military, and each has touched on conflict resolution in a professional capacity. Their articles address virtually every policy aspect of peace operations, including the security environment, lessons from past operations, military peacekeeping tasks, military and police responsibilities, outsourcing and contracting, coalition considerations, military culture and perspectives, and the effects on combat readiness. Despite their diversity, they come to remarkably consistent conclusions.

The overarching theme is one of participation in peace operations as an investment. The authors see active participation—even if limited to US unique capabilities such as intelligence, communications, and force projection—as a small price to pay to prevent larger problems later.

Most of the authors make it clear that they are not necessarily advocating change toward military involvement in peace operations. Rather, they see the inevitability of involvement and argue that the military (and the nation) must prepare to deal with it.

Another consistent motif is that peace operations are dynamic; they will change over time. They advise military participants to be adaptable, and they suggest that the best response to changes in the operating environment may be to modify the goals and objectives to secure at least a modicum of success. Not all changes are in the purview of the military, of course, but those that are should not be considered hard and fast.

The authors also discuss consent and offer a key insight beyond its obvious importance to success when they note that it is dynamic. Not only may it change over time, but there may be varying consent at different levels (e.g., national, strategic, and local) that may also wax and wane throughout the operation. Again, the authors urge awareness and adaptability as the keys to success.

Addressing perhaps the most contentious peace issue—at least as far as the military is concerned—the authors consider the impact on readiness. They suggest that peace operations affect readiness but ask, “Readiness for what?” Their near-unanimous conclusion is that only offensive combat skills are affected; others, such as mobilization, austere environment operations, force protection, and civil affairs are actually enhanced. All in all, they say, any negative effects are short-lived, as combat skills are rapidly regained after short refresher training periods. The authors point out that readiness is difficult to measure. Until clear, objective measures are developed, the military will continue to be unable to support its claims that peace operations degrade readiness.

If there is a weakness to the collection, it is the absence of discussions of risk. One essay touches briefly on the subject but generally drops it after discussing the benefits of the investment in peace. Despite this one omission, the collection is diverse, concise, and timely. It is well worth reading.

Lt Col Kevin Curry, USAF
Fairfax, Virginia

America at War since 1945: Politics and Diplomacy in Korea, Vietnam, and the Gulf War by Gary A. Donaldson. Praeger Publishers, 88 Post Road West, Westport, Connecticut 06881-5007, 1996, 248 pages, $19.95 (paperback).

Gary Donaldson, an Xavier University professor, provides a general study of the American interventions in Korea, Vietnam, and Kuwait, without adding anything to existing understanding of the wars and without conveying a comprehensive, precise, or balanced picture of these junctures in recent US history. Anyone who has done previous reading on Korea, Vietnam, or Kuwait is unlikely to learn anything new from this book. Amazingly for a work on a topic of such wide scope, Donaldson mainly uses newspaper and magazine articles for his sources. He does not use interviews, official documents, or even a fair number of published studies. The lack of nuance in Donaldson’s book portrays one of the many problems resulting from an author limiting research to secondary sources.

Donaldson’s misstatements throughout the book imply that it was written without a strong grasp of particulars and bring into doubt whether or not it was checked for quality by knowledgeable editors. He mistakes US Marine regiments for divisions in Korea. He claims that Khe Sanh was a diversion for the Tet offensive, a claim that contradicts more thorough studies of the battle, the campaign, and Gen Vo Nguyen Giap, who organized the North Vietnamese army siege at Khe Sanh. Donaldson makes the mistake of stating that the Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) was fighting the Vietcong (VC) in 1971, when for all practical purposes the VC were nonexistent at the time, and the North Vietnamese army was the ARVN’s adversary. He claims that Kuwait was created by the British specifically to deny Iraq an outlet to the Persian Gulf; actually, Kuwait had long been an emirate before it became a British protectorate in 1897 (at the time Iraq was part of the Ottoman Empire), and Kuwait was granted independence in 1961 during Britain’s great decolonization. He mistakes the current US Central Command (CENTCOM) Operations Plan (OPLAN) 1002 with the war-game scenario created by the CENTCOM staff in mid-1990. Finally, in one place Donaldson confuses the XVIII Airborne Corps with the VII Corps, though on the very next page he gets it right.

Donaldson argues that the United States had no interest in defending South Korea other than avoiding McCarthyistic complaint. He further contends that South Vietnam was unworthy of American attention. Additionally, he doubts whether the liberation of Kuwait from Iraq was imperative. In each case, he discounts the war-fighting ability of the US military and questions the motives and decisions of American policy makers. Clearly, the American defense establishment deserves serious critique. But this critique must be balanced, and Donaldson is not evenhanded. Nevertheless, his bias is instructive. It displays the importance of officials and service members being able to respond authoritatively and persuasively to arguments and historical perspectives that question the validity and conduct of US security enterprises.

Overall, Donaldson’s book displays the limitations inherent to works that are poorly researched and inadequately edited. I recommend it only to readers who need to be reminded of the existence of people who are highly critical of the American defense establishment.

Capt Jeff Kojac, USMC
Camp Pendleton, California

Courage under Fire by Patrick Sheane Duncan. G. P. Putnam’s Sons Publishers, 200 Madison Avenue, New York City 10016, 1996, 274 pages, $23.95.

It’s heart wrenching to witness a veteran fail to make the difficult transition from combat to peacetime. Yet, deep down we wonder compassionately—and inquisitively—why nightmares of war persistently haunt soldiers long after the guns are silent. In Courage under Fire, Patrick Sheane Duncan exposes us to the gruesome recollections of Lt Col Nat Serling, US Army, a character who struggles to determine why “the dream” of his Gulf War experience prevents him from adjusting to life after the war. If you’ve wrestled with this daunting challenge yourself or if you’ve witnessed someone else’s personal battle, you’ll want to read this book.

Courage under Fire is the story of Lieutenant Colonel Serling’s investigation into the heroic actions of Capt Karen Emma Walden, a female Medevac helicopter pilot shot down over enemy territory on 26 February 1991. His investigation is extremely controversial because Captain Walden is the first woman ever nominated for a Medal of Honor due to valor in combat. General Hershberg, Serling’s boss, describes the dilemma in a no-nonsense fashion: “We have some speed bumps ahead. One, this whole stink about women in combat. There’s a whole slew of political sharpshooters who will gladly take aim at the target. Then there’s going to be a whole ’nother group . . . saying we’re only doing this to overcompensate or distract the public from the charges of sexism and sexual harassment in the armed services” (page 14).

Hershberg, Serling’s longtime friend and mentor, orders Serling to conduct the investigation because of Serling’s own tragedy during the war. While conducting an assault on Iraqi forces at Al Bathra, Serling leads his company of Bradley tanks into a deadly firefight, during which his own command-tank fires on friendly forces. When he realizes he’s killed Lieutenant Boylar and his crew, the hated term fratricide is seared into Serling’s memory forever. Long after the war is over, “the dream” image of Boylar’s burning tank plagues Serling. Unable to reconcile the events at Al Bathra, Serling’s professional and personal life self-destruct after the war until his fate becomes mysteriously intertwined with that of Captain Walden, who is also suspected of fratricide.

The overwhelming strength of this novel is its lack of predictability as Serling slowly unravels the mysteries of Captain Walden’s own hellish experience fighting Iraqi soldiers. Duncan employs a series of flashbacks, each told from a different combatant’s point of view, as Serling interviews the crew of Walden’s helicopter and other people. Like Serling himself, I initially believed each of the flashbacks to be true until various threads of the narratives began to unravel. For example, mysterious M-16 shots were heard from the downed Huey when, “supposedly,” only dead soldiers remained on board. Readers will join Serling in tugging on such threads until the true story of Captain Walden’s actions unfolds in the final flashback of the book. Readers won’t be able to put the book down during these last 75 pages.

Although the flashbacks keep the pages turning, Duncan is quite heavy-handed in his use of stereotypical characters. Specifically, almost every Gulf War veteran in the novel is haunted by a memory of the war, which manifests itself through some form of abuse—for example, alcoholism or drug addiction. The result is flat, one-dimensional characters who win neither the reader’s sympathy nor interest. Fortunately, Duncan succeeds in painting Serling as a multifaceted character—father, husband, and officer—even though he too is slowly “climbing into a bottle” of alcohol.

If you’re looking for an easy-to-read story with action and suspense, pick up Courage under Fire. Duncan will satisfy your curiosity through Serling, one war veteran who discovers why he’s haunted by “the dream” of Boylar’s burning tank. More importantly, Serling reveals not only Captain Walden’s heroism in combat, but his own heroism in peacetime.

Capt Rosemary King, USAF
Phoenix, Arizona

The Day the War Ended: May 8, 1945 by Martin Gilbert. Henry Holt and Company, Inc., 115 West 18th Street, New York City 10011, 1995, 473 pages, $16.95.

On 8 May 1945, the European theater of war fell silent. The world rejoiced as the victorious Allies finally defeated a seemingly invincible enemy. Cities such as New York, London, Paris, and Moscow held massive parades and celebrations on such a grand scale as to put any victory parties of World War I to shame. While the parties raged in Europe, Allied forces took cover in heated battles on the huge offensive to displace the Japanese from their last imperialist footholds in the Pacific. Not all people celebrated the end of the war. Some had come face-to-face with death in the Nazi concentration camps and had survived. Others would return to their native Germany as refugees and attempt to put their lives back together with what little they had remaining. Martin Gilbert takes a very provocative, stirring look into the end of the war in Europe and examines the effects of the last days of that bloody and destructive conflict on the participants.

Although it reveals some of the inner workings of both the Axis and Allies in the last days of the war, The Day the War Ended is about the people who fought, died, and suffered from 1939 to the final battles. One reads the emotional stories not only of the combatants, but those of regular civilians who suffered as a result of Nazi occupation, Allied bombings, or religious persecution. This book is based on many letters to the author from people who fought in the war.

Many stories, with their own self-serving twists, find a way to entertain the reader. For example, SS leader Heinrich Himmler sought to create a preposterous deal with the Western Allies. With his command of the Rhine and Vistula Rivers basically overrun, Himmler gave his assurances that he would surrender his forces to the United States, Great Britain, and France as long as he could still fight the Russians. Moreover, he asked that once those Allies caught up to the Russian front, they continue fighting against the Russians with the assistance of German forces.

Gilbert shows his only weakness in this monumental work: a complete bias for the end of the war as seen through English eyes. Has Gilbert forgotten the important ally who crossed the Atlantic to help fight to save his homeland? Not exactly. The author wrote the book using resources to which he had access. In his case, those were the letters of the English people, with a sampling from other nationalities. But how many times did Gilbert describe somebody’s celebratory mood and happenings in Times Square? None that I can remember.

The Day the War Ended is a remarkable account of extraordinary achievements, sacrifices, failures, and triumphs of the last days of Hitler’s Germany. It relates not only the final combat but also the stories of the people who were unimaginably affected by the war. Gilbert’s book is highly readable, enjoyable, and enlightening. It would be a valuable addition to any history lover’s library.

1st Lt Barry H. Crane, USAF
Wright-Patterson AFB, Ohio

Explorations in Strategy by Colin S. Gray. Greenwood Press, 88 Post Road West, Westport, Connecticut 06881-5007, 1996, 265 pages, $59.95.

This book consists of a series of essays on a wide variety of strategy-related topics, all united by a common thread. That thread is Gray’s perception of the tension between the unique geographic or “functionally distinctive” (i.e., service- or weapon system–specific) concerns facing today’s strategic thinker and, as Gray puts it, “the pull of strategic logic.” The essays cover such disparate topics as the role of sea power in today’s environment (from a uniquely British perspective) to the strategic implications of the revolution in military affairs. The twin “centers of gravity” of the book, however, are the central chapters, which deal with the strategic value of airpower and special operations.

In section two of the book, Gray discusses the advantages and disadvantages of airpower, examines the role the United States has played as a unique “aerospace power” over the last 50 years, and then looks at how airpower should be used to support national interests from a strategic (primarily force structure versus force application) perspective. In section three, Gray explores the strategic value of special operations, a topic he considers woefully underexamined. The discussion covers the character of special operations forces (SOF); how, when, and why they should be used to make a strategic difference; and their potential value in support of foreign policy.

Of all the discussions in the book, the last two chapters on special operations are perhaps the most valuable to the strategic debate (and to an airman’s professional library). As Gray rightly points out, there is a tremendous literature covering SOF topics, but “for every thousand pages in the literature which recount the deeds of derring-do, there is scarcely one page that troubles to ask whether those deeds made much of a difference to the course and outcome of a conflict.” Gray makes a very useful stab at doing the latter in a section of chapter 8 called “Strategic Utility.” He divides the claims made for the utility of SOF into “Master Claims,” including economy of force and expansion of choice, and “Other Claims,” including such neglected, perception-related areas as “showcasing of competence” and “humiliation of the enemy.” These help to put his 50 or so historical instances into perspective and give the reader with only a casual knowledge of SOF and its practices a handy reference. The summarizing table at the end of the chapter is especially useful.

Also of interest to Air Force officers is the chapter titled “The United States as an Air Power.” Here is a valuable summary and fairly strong statement of airpower advocacy from someone who has the reputation of being principally a sea power proponent.

As always, there is both good and bad news accompanying any of Gray’s books. The good news is his footnotes, which, to me, were worth the price of the book alone as a starting point for more detailed reading. No scholar’s command of the literature is more masterful. The bad news is Gray’s convoluted, sometimes almost turgid, prose. No book of his can be considered an “easy read,” but portions of this volume (particularly the chapter on deterrence) make The Leverage of Sea Power (Gray’s acclaimed 1992 opus) read like a comic book in comparison.

This is definitely not a volume for every airman’s bookshelf, but it is one that will reward the careful reader who is willing to wade through Gray’s prose to find the genuine gems of strategic insight it does contain.

Maj J. P. Hunerwadel, USAF
Maxwell AFB, Alabama

Misfire: The History of How America’s Small Arms Have Failed Our Military by William H. Hallahan. Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York City, 1994, 580 pages.

According to the famous and widely accepted military aphorism, infantry is the queen of battle. From the dawn of organized violence to the Gulf War, troops on the ground have been essential to victory—at least for those who accept the foot soldier’s adage. But if we accept the thesis of William H. Hallahan, we might add a caveat to the great proverb: if infantry still dominates the battlefield, then firepower is infantry’s greatest ally. Hallahan makes this case strongly, while also suggesting that American infantry, throughout its history, has been ill served by its leaders, its government, and, in particular, the US Ordnance Corps. In short, Hallahan suggests that the US Army has suffered from a deeply entrenched and historical view which argues that carefully aimed, long-range rifle fire is superior to the high-volume but largely unaimed bursts of automatic weapons. Those who argue for aimed fire, which Hallahan identifies as the “gravel belly school,” believe that good marksmanship and judicious control win battles and conserve ammunition.

A major portion of this book deals with the sometimes tragic story of America’s two principal armories—Springfield and Harper’s Ferry. Both establishments all too frequently suffered from mismanagement, inefficiency, and corruption. Hallahan’s loosely supported contention is that, in the main, they failed to provide American infantrymen the quality and even quantity of firearms they needed—whatever the war. Long after inventors or entrepreneurs made modern and effective weapons available, government bureaucrats or political appointees at the arsenals argued conservatively for little or no change. Forced to use antiquated weapons—in some cases held over almost a generation—many thousands of young Americans paid a heavy penalty on battlefield after battlefield.

Interwoven in this tale of government failure is the author’s suggestion that weapons with higher volumes of fire most certainly would have met the wartime needs of the US military much better. Hall’s carbine of 1843 or the subsequently developed Spencer rifle, in adequate numbers, might have had a profound influence on the Civil War. It may be going too far, however, to suggest that the massive use of breechloaders would have shortened that bloody conflict. In fact, as events of the early twentieth century were to demonstrate graphically, higher volumes of small-arms fire only increased the carnage and slaughter on the battlefield—and had little impact on a war’s duration. The development and employment of machine guns on a massive scale—along with improvements in artillery and other weapons—mainly served to increase the lethality of the battlefield and contribute to its apparent emptiness as infantry dispersed and took to ground. Hallahan accepts the standard notion that the generals of the First World War were too little prepared, and then unwilling or unable to adapt tactically to the changes made necessary by the mechanization of weaponry. More recent analysis suggests otherwise, and, in fact, complex tactical evolution took place throughout the First World War. But it is correct to assert that the trend in infantry combat was towards increased firepower.

This trend was even more manifest during the Second World War and continues to this day. Interestingly, the greatest success of the US armories came between 1941 and 1945. The M-1 Garand semiautomatic rifle combined the best of the “gravel belly” tradition and the increased rates of fire offered by gas-blowback and magazines. Few of America’s enemies had illusions about its capabilities, and it might justifiably be regarded as the best all-around infantry weapon of the war. The Germans and Russians meanwhile largely moved away from prewar bolt-action rifles towards rugged assault guns with high rates of fire. But this tendency had more to do with their own manpower problems and a desire to compensate for dwindling unit strengths than any great philosophical adherence to the firepower school. Significantly, infantry companies and battalions of both nations would suffer in comparison to the overall combat strength of the same American units. In short, small-arms firepower cannot be considered the sole—even the most important—measurement of infantry effectiveness in the modern era.

In subsequent chapters, Hallahan documents the convoluted postwar story of M-14 development. This unhappy compromise weapon satisfied virtually no one, least of all the men for whom it was intended. Unfortunately, its follow-on fared little better. Facing the best assault rifle in the world in the form of the Soviet-designed AK-47, the AR-15—later designated the Colt M-16—was pushed into service early in the 1960s with US Army and Ordnance Corps modifications. These caused tragic casualties in Vietnam. Unfortunately, Hallahan does not mention that plenty of evidence suggests that its high rates of fire in the jungle environment had a larger impact on increasing American morale than on actually inflicting enemy casualties. Either way, there seems little doubt that the M-16 eventually became quite an effective weapon.

It is precisely this latter point that disturbs Hallahan the most. At a time when the infantry of many armies is armed with sophisticated and fully automatic versions of assault rifles, US foot soldiers are being equipped with the modified M-16A2, a one-pull, three-shot version of the original Colt rifle. In short, according to Hallahan, the “gravel bellies” have prevailed once more in their desire to conserve ammunition. Yet, his assertions suggest the reason for this is that the US Army officially distrusts its contemporary recruits, or that they do not measure up against the recruits of 20 years ago, lack critical support. Perhaps more statistical data might have made the case that high cyclic rates of fire are inherently better. Battlefield evidence, whatever the era, tends to be anecdotal and not totally reliable. It’s clear too that this issue has powerful advocates on both sides. In the end, however, this very readable and provocative book fails to make its case.

Col Mark K. Wells, USAF
Colorado Springs, Colorado

The Living and the Dead: Robert McNamara and Five Lives of a Lost War by Paul Hendrickson. Alfred A. Knopf, Publisher, 201 East 50th Street, New York City 10022, 1996, 427 pages.

It’s as if Mrs. Mac’s intensity got harnessed to Mr. Mac’s brain, and what issued was this brilliant, brittle, overengineered son who became, well, a machine, at least by daylight. This brilliant, brittle, overengineered son who would never be able to comprehend, much less reconcile, the life-long interplay of parental opposites inside him.

So says Paul Hendrickson in his brilliantly written, oddly organized and insightful attempt to understand the New Frontier’s secretary of defense, Robert McNamara. Hendrickson was born toward the end of World War II into the family of a California airline pilot. He spent seven years of his education in Catholic seminaries, and his first book was on that subject—and possibly that is the source of the special insights that make the present book so engaging. In 1983, according to Contemporary Authors, he denied understanding all the reasons why he left the seminary for a secular life, but he went on to get his bachelor’s degree from Saint Louis University and still later a master’s from Pennsylvania State in 1968. His work experience has been in journalism, and it certainly shows in his splendid writing style—The Living and the Dead being a pleasure to read. It does, however, have a stream-of-consciousness quality that might annoy some readers. Its author wound up working for the Washington Post, which doubtless has enabled him to gain contacts that also contribute to the special insights of the work.

Hendrickson sets out with a standard approach. He examines Robert McNamara’s family history, childhood, and youth in interwar California. The story is a sensitive and engaging one. If I needed any more persuading that the early childhood years are the most formative and that the mothers of our world have an overwhelming effect on what we are, this would help. If I needed any more persuading that America is a wonder for its great diversity, this would do it. I was being brought up in the Bronx at about the same time. My world was nothing like McNamara’s. After this conventional, if engaging, start, though, Hendrickson departs from the norm. He proceeds to explore parts of Robert McNamara’s existence through vignettes of five different people of his times whose lives were (directly or indirectly) profoundly affected by the secretary.

One of them was Lance Corp James C. Farley, USMC, whose picture appeared in Life magazine in 1965. He was poignantly portrayed at Da Nang after a mission, weeping over what had happened that bloody day. Hendrickson is heavily reliant on interviews for his sources and found the good lance corporal living in California, his back partially crippled in the war. He reconstructs Farley’s story with vividness and compassion—and all the while relates it to the development of Robert McNamara’s ordeal. Farley had a rough life, and it was rougher still in Vietnam. But for all of the blood and gore and pain then and afterwards, Hendrickson ends his treatment with the passage, “Before he [Farley] disappeared down the ramp, a found Marine, with a wrecked back, a good Irish wife, and a young son he’s mad about, he told me: ‘I feel I’m very fortunate, really. A lot didn’t work out, but I feel pretty lucky to be where I am right now. I have a sense of where I am.’” Meanwhile, McNamara had been back in Washington, participating in the escalation and misleading the press as to its intended extent and duration.

Another person who was profoundly and indirectly affected was not even in the military. Late in 1965, a Baltimore Quaker named Norman R. Morrison immolated himself with gasoline and flame outside McNamara’s window at the Pentagon. To his very great credit, Paul Hendrickson does not dismiss that as dementia and unworthy of serious consideration. Rather, he explores the life and times of Morrison through many interviews and at the same time weaves in the McNamara story. The two men never knew each other; yet in an elegant literary way, this integration yields insight into the minds and lives of both. But in this part of his tale, for all his insight and compassion, Hendrickson makes explicit his condemnation of McNamara. His charge is that the secretary was fully persuaded that the cause in Vietnam was hopeless about the time Morrison burned, but he went on and on and on for two more years without falling on his sword—and in the meantime many more Americans and Vietnamese went to their doom: “But [he] stayed in until February 29, 1968. Is it mad to think that if the nation’s secretary of defense had resigned after his November 30, 1965, memo, there would now be something known as the McNamara Prize, and that this prize would be coveted by men and women of conscience around the globe? But there is no such prize, and today this ex-servant of the people is skulking in the shadows of his own history.”

There are similarly gripping vignettes about an Army nurse whose suffering was only beginning when she returned from Vietnam, and Hendrickson’s prologue is the story of a New England artist who at age 27 attempted to heave McNamara over the side of the Martha’s Vineyard ferry. It’s a real puzzle, and serves as a fine introduction. The potential murderer was not a Vietnam veteran. His two brothers did serve there, and by the 1972 incident, the drawdown was well under way. But Hendrickson explores the story at some length—even to the point of tracking down the artist and interviewing him in great detail. McNamara’s assailant claimed he was feeling harassed by his draft board, and he felt like a slacker compared to his brothers and other relatives who had served—but how that translated into a reason to make an unpremeditated attempt at murder is unclear. But the author resists the temptation of dismissing the attacker as one of the crazies peculiar to the time and place. The man had been drinking. Fortunately for him, the president of the World Bank was still strong enough to hang on to the rail long enough for some other passengers to come to his rescue. The story remains a puzzle, but it provides a good introduction to an exploration of an enigmatic age and an enigmatic person.

The Living and the Dead closes with an epilogue that is almost as much a review-article of Robert McNamara’s own Retrospect as it is a conclusion. Hendrickson shows little mercy in his evaluation of the secretary’s apparent attempt to win forgiveness. McNamara remains arrogant and a liar, and he failed to do his duty to his countrymen by not resigning when he decided the war could not be won. Yet, even in the end, Hendrickson is not without sympathy for the human dilemmas faced by the secretary and the difficulties in coping with them. At the root of things were the limitations of his character dating all the way back to his upbringing in California. He knew the numbers but not the deeper meaning. He comprehended quantity more than quality. He understood the rational but not the irrational side of things.

I long ago grew weary of reading books about Vietnam, for most of them are selling one brand of hogwash or another. However, The Living and the Dead is an articulate work with an unusual approach, compassion, and an anger suitably restrained. I believe that it is the result of long research and contemplation. I therefore recommend it to the serving officer seeking new insights on the problems of high leadership—and especially so if he has read McNamara’s own Retrospect.

Dr. David R. Mets
Maxwell AFB, Alabama

American Intelligence and the German Resistance to Hitler: A Documentary History edited by Jürgen Heideking and Christof Mauch. Westview Press, 5500 Central Avenue, Boulder, Colorado 80301-2877, 1996, 457 pages, $35.00.

Contrary to the popular historical ideal of the seemingly invincible Third Reich, ruthlessly ruled by Adolf Hitler, the Nazis had many enemies at the grassroots level of German society. Heideking and Mauch bring out the little-known truth behind the political, military, and social scenes in Nazi Germany in this eye-opening book of recently declassified letters and essays of European operations in the Office of Strategic Services (OSS).

American Intelligence and the German Resistance to Hitler chronologically unfolds the story of the numerous people and groups determined to dismantle the German military machine. Unlike the more famous French underground groups, which were capable of distracting German soldiers on the front lines, the German resistance movement centered around German labor unions. Perhaps the most interesting evidence comes from the OSS Research and Analysis Branch. In letters describing the methods of using foreign workers from conquered territories for psychological operations, the OSS sought to persuade German laborers that foreign workers were going to take over their jobs in the factories. Various other methods targeted foreign workers to slow the German war machine by stalling production lines.

The churches of Germany also aided the resistance to Hitler’s regime. The Protestant and Catholic churches both had organized movements to counter Hitler’s intense use of propaganda by allowing youth and adults to speak their minds and listen to what the clergy held as the truth behind the Nazi government. Relief from the Nazi political agenda proved risky, as many clergy were held in concentration camps throughout the war. As the war grew longer, German citizens saw that the official ideology behind National Socialism was nonexistent and lacked spiritual convictions. The OSS received helpful propaganda from German church administrators after several Allied bombing raids into Nazi Germany were called “repentance for the many sins which the German nation has committed or has allowed to be committed without opposition.”

This book presents needed information depicting the somewhat unstable inner workings of German society. In reality, the war machine of Germany faced more trying times than history books depict. Through this well-researched volume of declassified information, Heideking and Mauch show the turmoil of the labor movement, the role played by the churches of Germany, and the little-known efforts of OSS officers and Central Intelligence Agency founders Allen W. Dulles and William J. Donovan.

American Intelligence and the German Resistance to Hitler develops inside views of Hitler’s Germany. Not only do Heideking and Mauch present a very interesting, captivating depiction of the German resistance to Hitler, they define the history of American intelligence as it worked throughout German society. From the collection of human sources spanning from Turkey to the Swiss Alps, any reader will enjoy this much-needed break from countless stories about the actual combat of World War II. Members of the intelligence community will certainly want to read this highly documented book about how actual intelligence work can enhance American war-fighting capability.

1st Lt Barry H. Crane, USAF
Wright-Patterson AFB, Ohio

Operation Desert Shield/Desert Storm: Chronology and Fact Book by Kevin Don Hutchison. Greenwood Press, 88 Post Road West, Westport, Connecticut 06881-5007, 1995, 269 pages, $69.50.

It is a wonder that Operation Desert Shield/Desert Storm: Chronology and Fact Book ever got into print, much less at a price of $69.50. It aspires to be a reference book for military historians, and the objective is probably a worthy one—a single volume containing a balanced and comprehensive chronology covering both phases of the Gulf War, as well as a set of appendices that was to be a handy source of reliable details for future scholars. But it appears to be rushed to completion, with the result that it is unbalanced and incomplete.

The Greenwood literature accompanying the tome identifies the compiler as “an information specialist and lifelong student of military history,” but it (along with the author’s page in the book) gives no details as to how long that study may have been or what formal education might have been included. Hutchison compiled an earlier work like this one, also published by Greenwood, on the North Pacific war.

There is much evidence throughout the work suggesting that it was put together in a helter-skelter fashion, on the assumption that the use of Desert Storm in the title as a selling device was a perishable asset. For example, in the appendix listing the key actors in the war, Capt Bill Andrews, USAF, a prisoner of war (POW), is listed; but Maj Tom Griffith, USAF, also a POW (both officers are equally fine men), is nowhere to be found. In the same section, a puzzle is posed as to the definition of key personnel and why some are “more” key than others. Maj Gen John Tilelli of the US Army, a division commander, gets 35 lines; Gen Colin Powell, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, gets 10—and Rear Adm William Fogarty gets just two. Similarly, in the index, so vital to a reference work, under Air Force units, the 9th Special Operations Squadron (SOS) is listed, as is the 20th. In between, the 16th SOS is missing—and it suffered more crew members killed in action than any other Air Force unit in the war, and it does appear in the chronology. As for the bibliography, it is far from complete—to cite just two examples, Jeffrey Record’s Hollow Victory and Rick Atkinson’s widely applauded Crusade are nowhere in sight—and both were published in 1993. Also, it is poorly organized. For example, the Gulf War Air Power Survey and various Army unit histories are not among the “Official Documents” but are found under “Published Works.”

In short, the readers of Airpower Journal need not tarry over this work. Further, university librarians everywhere should take another look at their “standing order” policies for reference books, as that may be the reason why such works appear so frequently at very high list prices.

Dr. David R. Mets
Maxwell AFB, Alabama

Strike Swiftly! The 70th Tank Battalion from North Africa to Normandy to Germany by Marvin G. Jensen. Presidio Press, 505 San Marin Drive, no. 300B, Novato, California 94945, 1997, 350 pages.

The American tank corps in the Second World War operated under some pretty daunting disadvantages: command inexperience with large armored formations, chronically inferior equipment, and—for a large portion of the campaigns in Europe—a resolute enemy in defensively ideal terrain. However, a shortage of brave and competent soldiers to crew the tanks and man the battalions was never a problem. Marvin Jensen, a cook in the 70th Tank Battalion, has interviewed his old mates and compiled their stories in this very readable account of their battalion’s participation in all of the campaigns of the European theater from North Africa to Sicily to the Normandy invasion, as well as the trek across Western Europe.

The 70th Tank Battalion was one of the independent tank battalions created prior to the beginning of the war and assigned to the Army Headquarters General Reserve. After its creation, outfitting, and initial training, the 70th moved out promptly and was in on Operation Torch, the fall 1942 invasion of North Africa. Initially a light tank battalion, the 70th participated in Torch as separate companies supporting the regiments of the 9th Infantry Division, primarily, and received its “blooding” and baptism of fire. One of the companies, interestingly enough, had a unique combined experience in supporting free French forces during the Tunisian campaign. In Sicily, the battalion fought in Patton’s Seventh Army with the famed Big Red One, the 1st Infantry Division. It returned to England at the conclusion of the Sicily campaign, reorganized as a medium tank battalion, and prepared for a third invasion—Operation Overlord. In England, the 70th developed its close relationship with the 4th Infantry Division, with whom it landed at Utah Beach on 6 June 1944 and fought across Europe.

Jensen has told the story of the men of the 70th Battalion with the self-effacing humor and humility that is characteristic of veterans of the Second World War. They grapple with tactics, equipment shortcomings, inexperience, homesickness, disease, and a dangerous and well-equipped enemy with great aplomb, esprit, and unadorned courage. The matter-of-fact style in which they relate the most terrifying of combat experiences during the numerous landings, the hedgerow battles in Normandy, the forest combat near Huertgen, the winter fights in the Battle of the Bulge, and elsewhere belies the terror and the awesome and inspiring nature of what they accomplished. From 1942 to 1945, they fought in campaign after campaign, battle after battle, engagement after engagement without relief until the Nazis were defeated. They fought in heat, cold, rain, and snow. They came ashore at Utah Beach, with canvas walls keeping their tanks afloat. The tanks they fought in could not defeat the German tanks in a one-on-one fight. They searched for primitive luxuries to ease their existence during brief respites from combat or training, and, when it ended, they were prepared to invade Japan as well. Despite what anyone says, these men are heroes.

They do take great pride in their unit. In fact, the only drawback to this book for an old tanker like me, who has served with a lot of tank battalions and has read about some of their war exploits as well, is the uncharacteristically self-congratulatory tone that permeates the book when they are speaking of the battalion itself. I don’t know if the 70th Tank Battalion was the best trained, best led, most highly regarded tank battalion in the US Army during the war. I do know that these veterans think so. However, I think they might have some pretty stiff competition, and it grated on my nerves to hear how they perceived that the leadership of the Army was always looking to the 70th whenever a tough job needed doing. I wish Jensen would recognize that there were a lot of tough jobs being done—not just the 70th’s. Nevertheless, most people think the last unit in which they served was the best. In short, this is a great book for an account of life in the tank corps during the Big One.

Lt Col James G. Diehl, USA
Fort Monroe, Virginia

Enlarging NATO: The Russia Factor by Richard L. Kugler. RAND, 1700 Main Street, Santa Monica, California 90407-2138, 1996, 300 pages, $20.00 (paperback).

Enlarging NATO is a study targeted at US policy makers who are struggling to manage the Russian factor in NATO expansion. Although Richard Kugler argues at the outset that his purpose is not to advocate the enlargement of NATO, he defends NATO expansion as the best way to facilitate the construction of a stable regional security system in Europe. Kugler posits that the key to long-term European security is to approach NATO enlargement within the broader context of East-West political, military, and economic linkages in the region. To succeed, policy makers must focus on a strategic endgame for enlargement that is specifically thought out to reach these objectives. Kugler rightly charges that discussions surrounding strategic endgames have been virtually absent in the enlargement debate, and he offers various strategies for policy makers to adopt, depending on their goals for the scope and shape of European security. Among these strategies is Kugler’s preferred strategy—the “two-community solution” supplemented with the “institutional web” approach. These combined approaches result in a gradualist option that calls for limited NATO expansion while simultaneously embedding a cooperative Russia in a multilateral framework of Western institutions.

Kugler does a particularly good job of laying out the issue of NATO expansion from the Russian perspective. He surveys the evolution of Russian foreign policy from the pro-West Atlanticism of the Gorbachev era to the emergence of statism, or the pursuit of permanent Russian interests, which is the basis of present-day Russian opposition to NATO expansion. He concludes that despite its limited national security resources, Russia will continue to have important geopolitical interests in East Central Europe that should be considered as the process of enlargement continues. These interests are the basis of Russia’s willingness to participate in a diplomatic dialogue on the terms of enlargement while simultaneously railing against NATO expansion.

Enlarging NATO is a valuable resource for policy makers and interested policy observers. Kugler offers a clear explanation of the background leading to the present challenge of managing the process of NATO expansion. He encourages a comprehensive approach that considers both the emerging geopolitics of East-Central European and Russian interests. Further, he advocates a strategy for expansion that simultaneously provides for the security of East-Central Europe and that draws Russia into the institutional web of Western structures. This book contributes a theoretical framework for designing and ultimately selecting an appropriate strategic endgame for European security in the post-cold-war era. Kugler’s battle cry—to think through the long-term consequences of various approaches to NATO enlargement—is a timely and thoughtful analytical contribution to a policy-making community that is just now beginning to grapple with these issues.

Maj Marybeth Peterson Ulrich, USAF
Colorado Springs, Colorado

Blood and Water: Sabotaging Hitler’s Bomb by Dan Kurzman. Henry Holt and Company, Inc., 115 West 18th Street, New York City 10011, 1997, 274 pages, $27.50.

Blood and Water is a gripping account of how Allied forces were determined to stop Nazi Germany from developing the atomic bomb. Dan Kurz-man brings together fragmented accounts of the heroic efforts of ordinary people and how they were able to find the courage to stop the Nazis. Kurz-man’s is the first complete account in over 50 years of actions taken by the scientific, military, and political communities of the British, Norwegians, and Americans to prevent Germany from developing nuclear weapons. The book covers the military campaign to deny the German nuclear research community the supply of deuterium oxide from the Norwegian Norsk Hydro plant. Kurzman stages the military operations from a disastrous British commando raid into Norway, with a focus on the all-Norwegian parachuting, skiing, and mountain-climbing commandos’ crippling raid against the fortress-like plant. He also covers the American attempt to destroy the plant with 388 B-17 and B-24

bombers from Eighth Air Force, as well as the final successful attack by saboteurs and members of the Norwegian resistance, who interdict the remaining supply of “heavy water” on a ferryboat shipment to Germany.

There are three distinct aspects of Kurzman’s book. First, it reads like a realistic suspense novel, as the author brings together the personalities of individuals with events, drawing the reader into the story. The reader gains an understanding of the players and why events happened as they did. Further, Kurzman leads the reader through the scientific maze of Allied and German nuclear research programs. The scientific community discovered two viable materials to control a nuclear reaction—pure graphite and deuterium oxide (H₃O or “heavy water”) as the neutron-moderator material to use with uranium. The German approach was to use deuterium oxide because of a mathematical error in using graphite. When Allied scientists learned that German research was focusing solely on using heavy water as the moderator, Allied military planners drew up a scheme to destroy the only commercial facility to produce it. President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill rolled the dice by blessing the attacks to stop this production in German-controlled Norway.

Second, the reader gains an appreciation of how and why decisions were made in the cat-and-mouse race of developing the first atomic bomb. From Kurzman’s extensive research, the student of military history gets the facts and reasoning. The author documents this unbelievable story by drawing on firsthand interviews with the people involved, personal diaries, and official documents.

The third aspect of Blood and Water is Kurzman’s ability to breathe life into the individual personalities of players and decision makers who had a hand in the attacks on the Norsk Hydro facility. Kurzman does not pass judgment on individuals for their actions or statements; neither does he lead the reader to a conclusion or perception of individuals or events. After reading about this small group of Norwegian commandos who undertake a near-suicidal mission, one cannot help coming away with respect and admiration for them—and for the Norwegian nationals who were determined to stop Germany. In short, Dan Kurzman has done an exceptional job of tying together the disparate elements of what some World War II historians consider the most successful commando raid by the Allies against Nazi Germany.

Lt Col Thomas A. Torgerson, USAF, Retired
Colorado Springs, Colorado

Project Coldfeet: Secret Mission to a Soviet Ice Station by William M. Leary and Leonard A. LeSchack. Naval Institute Press, 118 Maryland Avenue, Annapolis, Maryland 21402, 1996, 240 pages, $27.95.

Project Coldfeet is a fascinating account of a cold war adventure that has all the makings of the Alistair MacLean adventure Ice Station Zebra. Written by a CIA historian and one of the mission’s participants, it mixes polar exploration, intelligence gathering, and exciting technological solutions to make a very readable account. At the end of World War II, the two new superpowers—the United States and the Soviet Union—faced each other across the globe. Geography soon dictated that the North Pole and its surrounding Arctic waters become a new zone in which both sides could operate their military forces. The problem was that outside of some basic scientific polar exploration, little was known about the region and its effect on submarine warfare. Since the Pole was the shortest way between the United States and Soviet Union, interest rose dramatically as scientists explored this vast, new, hostile world during the geophysical year. The Soviet Union carried out independent and secretive research as well. The problem was that the US military, especially the Navy, wanted to find out if ice-floe stations (i.e., small detachments of men and equipment placed on an ice floe) could monitor submarine movements and help current research necessary for naval operations in the high north.

The ice-floe stations could be used only as long as the floe didn’t melt and as long as it was possible to retrieve the personnel. The Russians had been using small aircraft and a series of intermediate stations to accomplish this task. The United States, which had conducted geographic surveys, used aircraft and ships for the same purpose. The US Navy, however, had monitored a series of Soviet sites and from an intelligence standpoint could not deduce what the Soviet Union was doing. Although the United States assumed that these floe stations were military related, there was little proof and no way to find out, since most floe stations were abandoned in an orderly fashion, leaving little evidence of their use. Most Soviet stations were close to the Soviet Union, making any type of observation impossible. But in May 1962, a Soviet station was abandoned in haste. After overcoming bureaucratic resistance, minimal funding, untested equipment, and some of the worst arctic weather on record, a small US team parachuted onto the floe to examine the Soviet equipment before it disintegrated.

To remove the gear, believed to be of intelligence value, the team of researchers and intelligence personnel used special gear—the Fulton Skyhook, designed to allow an aircraft to retrieve a human standing on the ground. Its entire development process and various tests carried out are detailed in the book. This part alone makes for interesting and exciting reading. The Fulton gear and the bravery of the Navy team made this cold war saga a success. Although a sidelight to the cold war, it did at the time answer a number of questions, especially those dealing with the Soviets’ under-ice, nuclear-submarine operations and acoustic submarine-detection capabilities.

Capt Gilles Van Nederveen, USAF
Melbourne, Florida

Why the Allies Won by Richard Overy. W. W. Norton & Company, 500 Fifth Avenue, New York City 10110, 1995, 396 pages, $29.95.

It will come as a surprise to those fortunate souls not imprisoned within the musty dungeons of academia that the Second World War did not end with the final atomic conflagration of 1945. Although the tanks and artillery have long fallen silent and the combat-hardened youth have grown into silver-haired veterans, opposing camps of historians wage battle to this day over what happened during this conflict and why. Revisionists, represented by British iconoclast David Irving, seek to overturn the establishment view of the Second World War as a battle between noble Allied and evil Axis powers, some even going so far as to deny that the Holocaust ever occurred. As the battle over the Smithsonian’s exhibit proved, the revisionists currently have the traditionalists on the run, their successes prompting eminent British historian John Keegan to pen a recent monograph (The Battle for History) explaining the debate.

Into this fray steps another British historian, Richard Overy, whose reputation as a dispeller of myths seems to make an odd choice for a traditionalist standard-bearer. The King’s College (London) professor’s credentials are impeccable, having written widely and prolifically on the Second World War. Why the Allies Won figures to be the opening salvo of a traditionalist counterattack. With his latest work, Overy aims to reinforce most of the prevailing wisdom on the Second World War through incisive analysis of the decisive moments of the conflict, and then widens his focus to compare and contrast the opposing nations’ methods of waging war.

There is much to engage even the most knowledgeable student of the war. Overy’s deconstruction of the U-boat menace reveals it to be a short-lived state of Nazi predominance due to unique circumstances never repeated in the war. His analysis of the eastern front rightly holds the Battle of Kursk, not Stalingrad, to be the turning point of the war, as the rejuvenated Soviets began to hammer the exhausted German forces. His coverage of the strategic bombing campaign will be embraced by airpower advocates still smarting from Keegan’s assertion that the air war was not decisive. Overy insists that although this point is true from the myopic view of those overly enamored of battle damage assessments, the fact that the Luftwaffe was eliminated as a fighting force through frenetic attempts to defend German targets far outweighs the occasional bombing of farmers’ fields.

This is not to say that Why the Allies Won is without its flaws. Overy, like many academics, is too fond of central planning, a bias that colors his otherwise exceptional analysis of the Allies’ economic superiority. Thus, Stalin’s use of slave labor is viewed favorably as compared to the Americans’ capitalist-driven rearmament, despite the fact that the United States provided two-thirds of all materiel used by the Allies. Indeed, Stalin is the undisputed hero of this tale; Overy paints Churchill as the man who nearly derailed the war effort through his petulant diplomacy, while Roosevelt is portrayed in the garish hues of Wilsonian pomposity and naďveté. The Pacific theater is largely ignored, with Overy conceding to the revisionists the dubious notion that Japan’s surrender was pending when the first atomic bomb fell on Hiroshima. The importance of Enigma and Magic intercepts, revealed through the release of previously classified documents to be a decisive element in the Allied victory, is all but ignored here. Overy also displays an irritating tendency to mix unsupported (indeed, unsupportable) opinion with well-documented fact, such as his declaration that Hitler was “intimidated” by the threat of an Allied attack at Munich and thus was forced to compromise by Neville Chamberlain. (Hitler’s quick absorption of the whole of Czechoslovakia, including the famous Skoda ironworks, and subsequent use of the conquered nation as a Nazi arsenal have long since repudiated this assertion.)

These concerns but mildly tarnish a valuable work that should contribute much to the debate to come. For those among us who have grown increasingly disenchanted with revisionist attempts to rewrite history with little regard for truth, Why the Allies Won provides a much-needed antidepressant.

1st Lt Jeffrey A. Veyera, USAF
Misawa Air Base, Japan

Russia Transformed by Dmitry Mikheyev. Hudson Institute, 5395 Emerson Way, Indianapolis, Indiana 46226-1475, 1996, 228 pages, $12.95 (paperback).

Russia Transformed is an attempt to present the transformation of Russia in its entirety within a framework that emphasizes a cultural approach. Dmitry Mikheyev is a Senior Fellow at the conservative Hudson Institute in Indianapolis. A native Russian, he was educated as a physicist in the Soviet Union but was forced to emigrate to the United States in 1979 due to his political dissent. Mikheyev’s analysis provides a uniquely Russian perspective to his sweeping survey of societal change in Russia since the dissolution of the Soviet Union. His lack of training in political science, however, ultimately results in a biased and fundamentally flawed analysis of the ongoing process of democratization in Russia today.

His theoretical framework focuses on the role of various elite groups in Soviet society and their adaptation to postcommunist Russia. This analysis results in some unique insights into the Soviet psyche and the trauma that every citizen has endured, both in the Soviet system and in the revolutionary changes to life in the Russian Federation. Mikheyev is particularly good at describing the differences between the elite groups that are vying for influence in the new political system. However, the author’s own unfamiliarity with democratic theory and the role of democratic institutions, political parties, and society at large in building a democratic society limits the accuracy and overall quality of his analysis.

For instance, his psychological profile of Boris Yeltsin is particularly naďve, with its tendency toward hero worship. Indeed, it borders on pro-Yeltsin propaganda. Mikheyev fails to highlight Yeltsin’s nondemocratic qualities and does not even mention Yeltsin’s dismal approval rating among the Russian populace. Throughout the book, he soft-pedals the authoritarian elements of the Yeltsin government, favoring the euphemism “wise authoritarianism.” He characterizes democratic reformers as “not tough enough” and “ill-suited for bureaucratic work.” The chapter on economic reform is comprehensive in scope and provides some detailed descriptions of postcommunist transformations across various sectors of the economy, including agriculture, the military-industrial complex, and the general process of privatization. But the author’s purpose again seems to entail defending the processes and their results in order to paint a picture of Russia as a successfully transformed market economy whose population has generally adapted to the economic and political changes of the postcommunist era. Similarly, his social portrait of present-day Russian society downplays the effects of inflation, crime and corruption, unemployment, alcohol and drug abuse, and even the declining life-expectancy rates in the Russian Federation. In fact, Mikheyev argues that a decline of 8.5 years in the life expectancy of men since 1986 is not all that dramatic!

In general, Russia Transformed lacks objectivity, and Dmitry Mikheyev impresses the reader more as an apologist for the present state of affairs in Russia and the processes leading up to them. However, as long as one is aware of the weaknesses of the author’s analysis, the book gives some useful insights into Russian arguments for a political system that falls short of Western democratic standards—wise authoritarianism.

Maj Marybeth Peterson Ulrich, USAF
Colorado Springs, Colorado

OSS Agents in Hitler’s Heartland: Destination Innsbruck by Gerald Schwab. Praeger Publishers, 88 Post Road West, Westport, Connecticut 06881-5007, 1996, 208 pages, $55.00.

OSS Agents in Hitler’s Heartland recounts one of the most successful operations conducted by the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) in World War II. The book tells the story of Operation Greenup, which involved three young OSS agents who were air-dropped into the Austrian Alps in the closing months of World War II. Their mission was to gather intelligence on Nazi activities in the Innsbruck area. The author decided to tell their story after learning of this mission during a reunion of the aircraft crew and OSS agents.

This book begins by recounting the agents’ parachute insertion via a modified B-24 Liberator bomber. It provides many little-known details concerning the tactics and equipment used to conduct covert airdrops in the war. On most OSS missions, security concerns precluded the aircraft’s crew and undercover agents from becoming acquainted, but over the course of two aborted attempts to complete this drop, the crew and agents got to know each other. The agents included two recently naturalized OSS enlisted men and an Austrian-born Wehrmacht officer who had deserted and then volunteered for this assignment.

Franz Weber, the former German officer, was selected to join the team to take advantage of his personal contacts and knowledge of the area. Born in Oberperfuss, near Innsbruck, he had numerous relatives and acquaintances nearby. He proved quite effective in obtaining transportation and getting the team into safe houses. Hans Wynberg, a Dutch-American, was assigned to the team as the radio operator.

The team leader, Frederick Mayer, became a very effective spy, obtaining very detailed and reliable information about German industry, transportation nodes, and even specific locations of Nazi leadership. As a result, many of the industrial and transportation installations described by Mayer were destroyed by strategic bombing. Mayer was quite a risk taker, assuming the identity of a German officer and later transforming himself into a French electrician working in a German military plant. His luck ran out when he was captured by the Gestapo. Mayer successfully withstood the interrogation and beatings without divulging the names and locations of his fellow agents. Fortunately for him, the thousand-year Reich began to fall apart rapidly. The US Army’s 103d Infantry Division was closing in to striking distance of Innsbruck. In an interesting role reversal, the Gestapo agents and local Nazi officials began to be concerned for their own well-being. A deal was struck with local Nazi leaders that allowed Mayer to meet oncoming US Army forces and coordinate the surrender of Innsbruck.

The book covers the whole spectrum of Operation Greenup, from planning through termination. It provides fascinating details of equipment, encryption, and covert resupply and communication. The book is both well written and researched as well as very entertaining to read. In addition to conducting interviews with actual participants, the author derived a good deal of information from OSS documents located in the National Archives or obtained from the Central Intelligence Agency under the Freedom of Information Act. Schwab includes complete text of all message traffic transmitted between the agents and OSS headquarters. Also included are eight pages of wartime black-and-white photographs and an epilogue that details activities of the principal participants after the war. I enjoyed this book and would wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone interested in military history.

Lt Col Chris Anderson, USAF
Maxwell AFB, Alabama

Fall from Glory: The Men Who Sank the U.S. Navy by Gregory L. Vistica. Touchstone, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York City 10020, 1995, 478 pages, $14.00 (paperback).

Many readers remember the zenith in the early 1980s from whence the author claims the Navy has fallen: Tom Clancy established the technothriller genre with The Hunt for Red October, Navy Tomcats struck the first blow against Libya by shooting down two of Gadhafi’s jets after American ships crossed the “Line of Death,” and Tom Cruise achieved megastardom portraying an F-14 jock in Top Gun.

Most will also have noted the precipitous decline of the Navy, which began shortly thereafter. The Vincennes mistakenly shot down an Iranian airliner, Navy ships served primarily as Tomahawk launchers during the Gulf War, and the Tailhook Association’s annual gathering became the Mother of All Public Relations Debacles. After a host of other equally disturbing incidents plagued the Navy, the chief of Naval Operations, Adm Jeremy “Mike” Boorda, took his own life in 1996. How could the service go from triumph to tragedy so quickly?

Newsweek reporter Gregory L. Vistica proposes one answer: a catastrophic failure in leadership among the men charged with keeping the Navy on course. Vistica is a respected journalist with special expertise in reporting on the Navy—it was he who broke the Tailhook story for the national media.

The author has done his homework in Fall from Glory. His well-documented indictment of Navy leadership is damning enough that the book is rumored to be noxious to the careers of those Navy officers caught reading it.

And with good cause. The portrait Vistica paints is one of constant struggle within the Pentagon between ambitious bureaucrats like Navy secretary John Lehman and an old boys’ network of ring-knocking admirals like Adm Tom Hayward, whose internecine clashes were fought without regard to the best interests of the Navy, the taxpayer, or the nation. The result of this struggle was a bloated Navy struggling to attain Lehman’s unsupportable six-hundred-ship goal and utterly lacking in moral leadership. The subsequent decline in discipline and effectiveness should not be surprising.

Vistica’s documentation is generally impeccable. He conducted extensive interviews with the key players in the Navy’s rise and fall. Media critics accustomed to reporters pursuing stories with their own hidden agenda will walk away from this book largely disappointed; Vistica does not see this tale through the usual dovish filters.

The author’s lack of military knowledge does hurt his case, however. Scattered throughout the work are numerous instances wherein he misinterprets the information afforded him and so draws the wrong conclusions. In covering Tailhook, for example, he casts aspersions upon the account of an officer accused of assaulting Lt Paula Coughlin, trying to undermine his image as a good Christian by noting his call sign “Boner” as indicative of un-Christian behavior. Aviators do not pick their call signs themselves (their fellow pilots have a ceremony for it), and in this case it was undoubtedly a play on his name (Bonam) with perhaps a reference to a mistake made during training (i.e., a “boner”).

Oddly, it is on the subject of Tailhook that the author is most vulnerable. He takes Lieutenant Coughlin’s story of victimization at face value; he labors to discount her critics without providing the evidence he seems to have at hand throughout the rest of the book. For those who followed Tailhook and its aftermath, this account suffers from a reporter overprotective of his source.

Readers may also have a problem with the heroes and villains emerging from this tale, exposing inherent contradictions in the author’s logic. The great villain is Lehman, who Vistica admits did much to restore the Navy’s self-image while allowing standards to erode. Oddly enough, his successor James Webb, who strove mightily to correct perceived flaws in the Navy officer corps, is vilified as a puritanical troglodyte who despised the notion of women in the military. The only clear-cut heroes to emerge are Lt Paula Coughlin (of course) and Admiral Boorda, despite evidence presented that the “sailor’s sailor” was more “sailor’s politician” than anything else.

Still, this is a worthy effort guaranteed to generate wide debate, as well as revulsion amongst those who, to quote Jack Nicholson in that other Navy movie, “can’t handle the truth.”

1st Lt Jeffrey A. Veyera, USAF
Misawa Air Base, Japan

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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