Hero Found: The Greatest POW Escape of the Vietnam War
Bruce Henderson. New York: Harper, 2010. 320 pp. Intro. Illus. Postscript. Notes. Bib. Index. $27.99.
Reviewed by Major Edward F. Wells, U.S. Marine Corps (Retired)
Bruce Henderson’s latest book recounts Navy pilot Lieutenant Dieter Dengler’s personal journey from pre-World War II Germany, through his experience as the only U.S. prisoner of war to survive an escape from the Pathet Lao (Laotian communist insurgents) during the Vietnam War in 1966.
Henderson, who was Dengler’s USS Ranger (CVA-61) shipmate at the time of their deployment, has marshaled information from new sources, including interviews with Dengler and others.
Dengler was born in 1938 in the German town of Wildberg, near the Black Forest, the son of a bookbinder who was also a photographer and artist. His father Reinhold, drafted into the German Army and later killed on the Russian front, had foreseen his country’s defeat and had warned his wife, Maria, to prepare their three young boys (Dieter was the rambunctious middle child) to be self-reliant by teaching them survivalist skills, including how to forage for food. Maria kept her family together amid the harsh postwar conditions in the French Zone of Occupation.
Dengler’s cleverness, charm, physical strength, and coordination were shaped by his impoverished childhood, and he soon focused his attention on becoming a pilot, a dream rooted in having witnessed American war planes flying over his village. He emigrated to the United States in 1957, enlisted in the U.S. Air Force, and attended college. This led to his enlisting as a naval aviation cadet in 1963 for pilot training. He was commissioned in 1964. His two escapes from simulated POW camp during survival, evasion, resistance, and escape (SERE) training caused him to stand out among his peers early on.
Dengler seemed to have been equipped from birth to triumph over captivity. While deployed in the Ranger, his single-seat A-1H Skyraider, the U.S. Navy’s last propeller-driven attack bomber, crashed in Laos, and he was captured by the Pathet Lao communist forces. He was imprisoned in Laos for five months. His improbable escape, to rejoin his still-deployed squadron mates afloat in the South China Sea, was welcome news and earned him the Navy Cross.
For the remainder of his obligatory active duty, Dengler flew jets and later served in the Naval Reserve. After retiring he became a pilot for TWA, bought a restaurant, and continued to travel. Dengler was happily married to his third wife when the rapid onset of Lou Gehrig’s disease led to his suicide in 2001 at the age of 62.
Henderson’s perceptive narrative of the interplay of personalities among Dengler’s squadron, the VA-145 Swordsmen, complements his persuasive development of Dengler’s character. He effectively describes the country’s contemporary response to America’s involvement in Indochina in the early 1960s (Dengler had joined the Navy before President John F. Kennedy’s assassination and was commissioned before the Tonkin Gulf resolution). Later, Dengler deployed to the Western Pacific under leaders who were veterans of World War II and the Korea War. Scenes set at Treasure Island, Alameda, and Hunter’s Point recall the San Francisco Bay area’s long-past time as a vibrant area of naval activity. POW training then (SERE, including the Code of Conduct) reflected lessons learned during the Korean War.
Henderson seamlessly weaves in historical background and expository detail to support his narrative. He includes fascinating descriptions of flight-deck operations and brief introductory backgrounders of characters as they appear. This volume of useful material makes it vulnerable to errors, but they don’t detract from the author’s mission. For example, he refers to “Treasury [Treasure] Island”; “flint and stone [steel] survival gear”; the “admiral’s stateroom [day cabin]”; and claims there was “no peacetime draft in 1957,” although there was, from 1948 to 1973. In addition, a large-scale map would have complemented the interesting visuals, which include archival and personal photographs, and an annotated sketch of the POW camp.
Dieter Dengler’s exploits should be well known in the carrier-aviation community. Parts of his story have appeared elsewhere. Henderson’s inclusive mosaic of documentary evidence and participants’ recollections, however, is a timely presentation of a fascinating personal tale and an instructive survival case study to both loyal insiders and a new and broader readership, including this reviewer.
The Wolf: How One German Raider Terrorized the Allies in the Most Epic Voyage of WWI
Richard Guilliatt and Peter Hohnen. New York: Free Press, 2010. 383 pp. Pref. Illus. Appen. Notes. Bib. Index. $27.
Reviewed by Michael Epkenhans
We seem to know nearly every detail of the naval war in the North Sea or German submarine warfare in the waters around Great Britain and in the Mediterranean between 1914 and 1918. By contrast, our knowledge about the raids of German auxiliary cruisers in the Atlantic, Indian, and Pacific oceans is limited, for their role seems negligible to the broader context. This study by Guilliatt and Hohnen not only helps fill the gaps but also demonstrates that their role should be re-evaluated.
Based on primary and secondary sources from German and British archives and private memoirs of crew members and several prisoners, the authors describe the history of the German auxiliary cruiser, SMS (His Majesty’s Ship) Wolf. The narrative does not simply cover the successful raids far from its home base or the naval strategies of Germany and Britain. It also presents a vivid account of daily life on the vessel, the relationship between the crew and the prisoners taken aboard after the capture and the sinking of Allied merchant ships, and the hardships all increasingly suffered in the course of one raid, which was to last more than a year and during which the Wolf could never call at any port to refuel, refit, or replenish food and fresh water.
Formerly a merchant steamer, the Wolf was converted into a warship in 1916, equipped with torpedo tubes mounted in her hull, guns behind trap doors, the most powerful radio receiver available, and of course, a spotter plane. After Germany’s attempts to challenge Britain’s naval supremacy in the North Sea had failed and before the German High Command eventually took the decision to embark on unrestricted submarine warfare, the German naval command dispatched several auxiliary cruisers into distant waters to wage commerce warfare against Britain.
Leaving Germany in December 1916, the Wolf laid mines or directly attacked unarmed merchant vessels on important Allied trade routes. Soon, off Cape Town and Durban and in Indian and Australian waters, more than 30 Allied vessels were destroyed.
Surprised by these events, it took the Allies time to realize that a German raider was the source of these losses. Instead, they first suspected German immigrants to be the Kaiser’s agents and subsequently persecuted them using all legal—and sometimes illegal—means.
Although the Wolf was a successful raider, life on board was by no means easy, for success also meant that the number of prisoners increased steadily. Soon almost 500 sailors, including a few female prisoners of many nationalities, were crowded below deck. They were treated as well as circumstances allowed.
Nevertheless, boredom, illnesses such as scurvy and beriberi, the lack of fresh food and water, and tensions among the prisoners and with crew members soon strained nerves as much as storms, rough seas, and extreme climates already had.
The commander of the Wolf, Captain Karl Nerger, managed to overcome these difficulties. As a man of principle, he attempted to maintain discipline among his men and prisoners without being too harsh. After 15 months at sea, he slipped through the British blockade between Scotland and Norway undetected and sailed into the German port of Kiel, on the Baltic Sea. Only his last prize, a Spanish vessel under the command of one of his officers, became stranded in Danish waters and had to be given up.
In Kiel Nerger was celebrated as a war hero. Most of his prisoners were, however, dispatched to German prison camps, where some died from exhaustion, illness, or their wounds before the war ended. Only those from neutral countries were allowed to return home.
The unexpected success of the Wolf did not alter the course of the war either at sea or on land, but it indirectly helped shape the naval strategy of the German navy during World War II. By deploying pocket battleships and armed merchant vessels overseas at the beginning of the war, the German Naval Warfare Command tried to force Britain to disperse her naval forces to secure important supply lines.
More directly, the success of the Wolf had a powerful impact on the lives of many who were forced to spend months together. The authors’ thoroughly researched and convincing study makes clear that good modern naval history is more than just a true account of strategy or battles, for it deals not only with ships but with men.
Skies to Conquer: A Year inside the Air Force Academy
Diana Jean Schemo. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley, 2010. 320 pp. Intro. Illus. Index. $25.95.
Reviewed by Charity E. Winters
Ms. Schemo first wrote about the U.S. Air Force Academy as a New York Times reporter in the wake of the 2003 sexual assault scandal there. A year later, she covered reports of religious intolerance and command-sanctioned proselytizing. After the storms passed, she remained intrigued by the academy and returned to write a book, seeking to chronicle the lives of cadets over the course of one year, 2006 to 2007. The glossy cover of her final product depicts graduation. It is a moment of pure exhilaration as cadets hurl their caps into the air, an image of a long-awaited victory.
The cover is misleading, as is the title. I had looked forward to reading a fresh perspective on academy life. I am a 2003 graduate of the academy and have since served six years as a security forces officer and completed three tours in Iraq. Having graduated during one of the most tumultuous periods in the school’s history, I am not an apologist for the institution but welcome critiques and perspectives that remain true to their purpose and are substantiated by thoroughly cited research. This book offers neither.
The author’s stated purpose is to map the journey of cadets from induction to graduation and record their metamorphoses from fresh-faced young men and women to commissioned officers. This should be their story, but it is told from her perspective, one shaped by her earlier encounters with the academy and what comes through as an anti-military bias. The book reads like a drive-by documentary, with the author popping in and out of the narrative like an anachronistic whack-a-mole, shooting off seemingly irrelevant first-person anecdotes and wisecracks. Copious dialogue and splintered reflections rehash past scandals and minimize the significance not only of the life cadets have chosen, but of their uncertain futures in an ever-more ambiguous Air Force.
If any protagonist emerges from the plot, it is a young woman whose self-awareness seemed to be awakened by her unexpected distaste for military life. She enters the story as a hometown hero, unquestionably dedicated to her academy dream. However, the realities of entering the profession of arms cause her to re-evaluate her goals, and she resigns after summer basic cadet training. Her agonizing decision to leave occupies an entire chapter. Nowhere else does the author write at such length while examining the internal struggle of an individual cadet. The book cries out, however, for a similarly detailed account of another cadet, afflicted by the same demons of doubt, and who, like the overwhelming majority of cadets, decides to stay at the academy.
From Schemo’s perspective, the academy systematically demolishes cadets’ individuality and faith. Near the conclusion she writes, “At its most excessive, the academy aimed to rebuild not just their bodies and minds, but also their souls.” What is left after four years, she would have us believe, are woozy survivors of a self-imposed imprisonment, seduced by adolescent dreams of flight or temptations of a free education, and nothing like the individuals they once were. What acts of inhumanity are such people capable of? While listening to an upperclassman’s obviously deeply felt recitation of the poem, “Invictus,” to the incoming Class of 2010, the author casually mentions that this was also the poem quoted by Timothy McVeigh in his final testament before his execution. She thus outrageously connects the ethos of young men and women at the U.S. Air Force Academy with that of the most appalling mass murderer in American history.
While the author is right to discuss the sexual assault and religious controversies, the scandals are a dominating thematic element and overshadow the lives of the cadets with a collective guilt for past wrongs they did not commit. Her investigation does not bring insight into the aftermath of the institution’s fall from grace or address many of the major reforms that permeate every aspect of cadet life; athletics, military training, academia, and character development. True, in a few short vignettes, she forgets herself and just tells their stories. In these brief glimpses she imparts a quiet honor to their service that momentarily outshines her personal bias.
But Schemo provides no context of the academy’s history or of the sacrifices of graduates who served and died for their country. She does not recognize the contributions of graduates in the realms of government, science, sports, politics, arts, academia, or business. Sadly, after all her access, interviews, and commentary, she missed the real story. It is as if she traveled to Colorado Springs, and in the process of digging for dirt under rockpiles, did not recognize the grandeur of the Rocky Mountains.