The Influence of Sea Power on Ancient History
Chester G. Starr. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989. 105 pp. Maps. Notes. Bib. Ind. $16.95. ($15.25).
Reviewed by Kenneth P. Czech
For more than a century, Alfred Thayer Mahan’s book, The Influence of Sea Power Upon History (Hill & Wang, Inc., 1957), has molded the belief that naval superiority has been of utmost importance in shaping the modern and ancient worlds. His work had a tremendous effect on the maritime thinking of turn- of-the-century Britain, Germany, and the United States as they flexed their imperialistic muscle. It continues to influence historians and military minds.
While there is little doubt that Mahan’s thesis is of value to modern history, Chester Starr’s slender volume refutes Mahan in regard to the importance of sea Power in the ancient world. An acclaimed historian on the classical world, Starr analyzes the mixture of political, economic, and social forces that provoked, then influenced naval power in the early Mediterranean basin.
The author’s scholarly assessment dwells briefly on the maritime accomplishments of ancient Egypt and Phoenicia. He gathers strength as he examines the rise of Grecian and Carthaginian thalassocracy. He then concludes by viewing Roman control of the seas.
Real political power in the ancient World, according to Starr, rested with Wealthy landowners rather than with those deriving income from seagoing trade. Agriculture was of prime importance in the colonizing efforts of Greece and Carthage. This linkage of colony to homeland created a web of maritime connections based on food and trade rather than naval power, and led to the rise of Mediterranean urban centers.
Maritime commerce itself was devoted largely to the transport of luxury items for landed aristocrats. Although there was a lucrative trade in metals, wool, and timber, most communities could raise enough food supplies to meet their own needs without relying on fleets. Great population centers such as Athens and Rome at the height of their powers were exceptions, because both required sea control to establish trade routes for grain.
Starr also suggests that the deliberate use of sea power depended on mature, stable governments capable of financing a navy. He cites the growth of Athenian naval superiority in the fifth century B.C., as Athens first defeated invading Persians, then formed the Delian League by extracting a voluntary commitment of warships or cash from neighboring Greek states to form a defensive alliance against Persia. As the members of the league wearied of providing their share, Athens realized how much it had come to depend on these dues to maintain its own naval strength. By forcing states to continue contributing, Athenians unwittingly were creating their own imperialistic empire.
An offshoot of this, of course, was the Peloponnesian War, which pitted Athens against Sparta and its allies. The former, through its sea power, was able to gain some initial successes, but was unable to secure an ally with a potent land army. Thus Athens was reduced to relying solely upon its fleet, while Sparta eventually discovered the value of sea power which, combined with its elite infantry, brought Athens to its knees.
Although pitched battles at sea occurred in the ancient world and provided critical focal points in history—such as at Salamis and Actium—they did not, by themselves, shape history. Galleys were simply not seaworthy enough to patrol commercial lanes with great regularity or to venture far from the security of land. Fleets were closely tied to the shore for food and water for their crews, which were unable to live off the land or be paid in plunder as an army could. When Rome became a continental and overseas empire, it did so on the strength of its army, which was assisted and ferried by its navy. What successes the Roman fleets gained were based on the organization and determination of her land forces.
Starr’s valuable analysis proves that Mahan’s thesis should be modified when applying the effect of sea power on the ancient world. Maritime might was more of a spasmodic factor than an important element in antiquity.
Washington Goes To War
David Brinkley. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1988. 286 pp. Photos. Bib. $18.95 ($17.05) hardcover, $4.95 ($4.45) paper.
Reviewed by Captain William B. Hayler, U.S. Navy (Retired)
David Brinkley has written about the nation’s capital during its transition from an uneasy peace in the late 1930s to the end of World War II. Today’s military officer who goes to Washington for duty will find in this book a wealth of background information about how the city and the Pentagon began, examples of good and bad leadership, and vignettes of history that are not well known. The book is the product of an enormous amount of research, yet it is sometimes necessary to forgive the author for his bias against the military. The reader cannot put the book down, however, without being overwhelmed by how much Washington, the country, and the world have changed in the past 50 years.
The vignettes and background information about congressional and executive leaders on the Washington scene alone make this book worthwhile. President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s efforts and frustrations while preparing the country for war are well described. In 1989 we have forgotten how strong the isolationist sentiment was and how much opposition Roosevelt faced in his efforts to assist Britain. Students of history know that the draft law, which was due to expire in October 1941, was saved by only one vote. But I did not know about the efforts of Representative Lyndon Johnson (D- TX) and House Speaker Sam Rayburn (D-TX) in marshalling last-minute support in Congress for the draft. The chalked or painted letters, “O-H-I-O”— “Over the Hill in October”—that appeared on many Army barracks told of the gravity of the just-averted disaster.
Brinkley concludes that the preparations for war succeeded only because the country had the necessary manpower, skills, resources, and industrial capacity. This may be true, but he does not give credit to the leadership that developed and to the nameless men and women who supported the efforts to mobilize the country and provide backup for the armed forces overseas. Roosevelt believed that old-time agencies were not up to dealing with the emergency, and that it was more expedient to create a new layer of government. As a result, many wartime agencies sprang up to deal with the war. A lot of people have long since forgotten the meaning of their initials, such as OPA (Office of Price Administration), OWI (Office of War Information), WSA (War Shipping Administration), OPC (Office of Price Control), OEM (Office of Emergency Management), and OCD (Office of Civilian Defense), to name a few. If an agency failed, it would remain and another would be superimposed upon it.
The reader will also learn some bits of history he may not have known. For instance, in February 1944, General George Marshall and Secretary of War Henry Stimson had run out of money to develop and build the atomic bomb. Until then they had used funds by moving appropriations from one account to the next, but this time there were no more to move. They saw Speaker Rayburn privately in his office, and he wanted no details, saying, “If I don’t know a secret, I can’t leak it out.” His great stature and the esteem in which he was held by his fellow congressmen guaranteed that any requests he made to congressional committees would be acted upon. Marshall and Stimson got the money.
Another leader Brinkley writes about is Senator Harry S Truman (D-MO), who first came into prominence when he began to hear complaints that there was a tremendous waste in construction work at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. In early 1941, a bill was passed to set up a Senate committee to investigate waste and corruption by wartime agencies in the awarding of contracts. Truman became the chairman, and, in Brinkley’s words, “His committee became famous for running one of the straightest, cleanest, least political investigations Congress had ever seen.” The reputation he established led to his nomination for vice president— which he did not seek and which was not enthusiastically supported by Roosevelt. Furthermore, it is appalling to reflect upon the lack of preparation that surrounded Truman before he assumed the presidency. As Brinkley writes: “Roosevelt had ignored him, told him nothing, seldom even spoke to him.” What an enormous handicap! Stimson first told Truman about the development of the atomic bomb after the first cabinet meeting on the day he assumed the presidency.
The military comes under some harsh criticism from Brinkley. Most of the remarks are directed at the Army, since it , was the largest service, but they would apply equally elsewhere. We read that the Army was little more than a social club for officers, and that it was a well-understood rule that one should marry a rich woman to have a successful career. Brinkley does not make that statement in jest. If it were true, I can only conclude that my father and the vast majority of his contemporaries in that era flunked their first professional requirement!
At the same time Brinkley admits that in one instance, at least, wealth was not altogether bad. On arrival at Fort Benning, George Patton found most of his 325 tanks in need of repair that the Anny would not or could not fund. So he went to Sears, Roebuck and got spare parts, but he was never reimbursed.
The author does accurately state that most who had joined the Army (and presumably the Navy) in the 1930s had enlisted to escape civilian unemployment.
He docs not add that the country was fortunate to have these high-quality men. By | 1941 most of them had served one or two enlistments, and by the end of the war many were officers who had reached the middle grades. The military does get one left-handed pat on the back: “Once the military started to get money in amounts it had not seen before, it began to display surprising skills in assembling a real army and navy!”
Pentagon inmates who take time to read Brinkley’s book will acquire background information useful in dealing with the various branches of the government and the press that cannot otherwise be gained in an equal amount of time. They will not always agree with the author, but when they put the book down they will have discovered that Brinkley has done a great service in presenting this book to the public.
The First Salute: A View of the American Revolution
Barbara W. Tuchman. New York: Knopf, 1989. 347 pp. Ulus. Maps. Notes. Index. $22.95. ($20.65)
Reviewed by Jack Satterfield, U. S. Naval Reserve
On 16 November 1776, the brigantine Andrea Doria, commissioned by the Continental Congress and flying the red- and-white striped flag of the rebellious American colonies, sailed into the harbor of St. Eustatius in the Dutch West Indies. Following the time-honored custom, the ship fired a salute and the island’s fort resounded with a 13-gun reply. This ritual act was the first such recognition of the new flag and the nation it represented.
The Dutch governor of St. Eustatius ordered the response knowing that he was defying the authority of British rule over the colonies. By doing so, he jeopardized his own country’s narrow foothold in the New World, since Britain used several neighboring islands to provide shelter for the Royal Navy.
The governor, Johannes De Graaf, in fact, later played unwilling host to British Admiral George Rodney and the ships and men under his command who plundered the island. The group had arrested resident subjects of the crown who had the temerity to enrich themselves by trading with the colonials. They also planned a decisive blow against the French fleet, now supporting the American rebels by ferrying money, troops, and supplies, and fending off British attempts to block sea trade between the colonies and other nations.
Before the French commitment of military support, a major portion of the new small arms, powder, and shot available to General George Washington’s army had to come through St. Eustatius’s harbor.
The author, Barbara Tuchman, who died shortly after this book’s publication, long ago demonstrated her ability to weave minor detail into the narrative fabric of important historical events. The first Salute follows this trend, exploring much of the hidden texture of the American Revolution and adding several insights that expand our understanding of times now clouded by our national myth.
Mrs. Tuchman has done a somewhat iconoclastic job in describing and evaluating the Royal Navy’s role in the colonial uprising. She argues that role was, to a great extent, inept and negligent. For students of history long imbued with the notion of British naval invincibility, particularly during the period roughly paralleling the ascendancy and dominion of British Admiral Horatio Nelson, this is an unpleasant pill. Mrs. Tuchman makes a plausible case, but much of her position is based on an overemphasis of the importance of documents that outline formal navy traditions rather than the actual implementation of these rules.
She claims that, with the exception of Admiral George Brydges Rodney, hero of the Battle of the Saints, the admirals charged with securing the British garrison and base of American operations in New York, including Samuel Hood and Thomas Graves, were especially effete, given to vacillation and lethargy, and had no sense of long-term political or strategic policy. Lack of will and divided opinion throughout the country and in Parliament certainly did not encourage initiative among the officer corps. And the navy’s archaic and rigid promotion system and fighting regulations clearly were not incentives to action.
Conservatism and deliberation contributed in some measure to the British loss at Yorktown. A two-week delay in sailing past the mouth of the New York harbor at Sandy Hook sealed the doom of Lord Charles Cornwallis and the British army in the southern colonies. They were trapped with their backs to Chesapeake Bay in the little Virginia village at the mouth of the York River while General Washington’s combined colonial and French forces tightened a ring of cannon that rained death on the Redcoats’ meager defenses. Had the British sailed earlier, they would have reinforced Admiral George Rodney’s fleet, which had been reduced in strength by his departure for England with an escort squadron. The British tried and failed to break the French naval blockade commanded by Admiral Francois Comte de Grasse that was stationed in the Chesapeake and holding back General Cornwallis.
A quicker departure might have tipped the balance, since British ships enjoyed superior seamanship and gunnery, as Admiral Rodney demonstrated a year later when he triumphed over de Grasse near Martinique. But the admirals in New York delayed through early October, as Mrs. Tuchman wrote:
“For three weeks troops and crew had been embarked in motionless ships. The delays and postponements gave rise to impatient and puzzled muttering.
“Generals had not come to join their contingents, nor admirals their ships. Their absence elicited from an astute observer, Captain Frederick Mackenzie of the Adjutant General’s office, a remark that could stand for the whole conduct of the American war: ‘Our generals and admirals don’t seem to be in earnest about this business.’ ”
Lord Cornwallis consequently capitulated on 19 October 1781 and his soldiers marched smartly from their redoubts to stack muskets before the “rebels and unfortunate wretches” and French troops who had defeated the British.
With its southern army vanquished, the British quickly realized that New York would also fall as General Washington concentrated his forces and the French fleet against the garrison on lower Manhattan island. They negotiated a peace, ceding control of the colonies so they could focus their slender inventory of remaining war-making resources on the French. This proved successful.
Mrs. Tuchman’s last book is entertaining, but her views about British naval ineptness remain unconvincing. The military forces of democracies are merely instruments of government policy. In the late 18th century. Great Britain was one such democracy, despite its failure to extend the same rights to colonial subjects that it extended to many of its citizens.
Operational and tactical incompetence certainly occur in war, and the Royal Navy experienced its share. The overall policy of the American Revolution, however, lay in the hands of political leaders who soon recognized that the war had little public appeal or support, that the expense of potentially successful operations was too great. Given these limitations, it is easy to understand why the generals and admirals were not “in earnest about this business.”
Despite this, the Royal Navy’s record of tactical success in its main engagements throughout the late 18th and early 19th centuries left a tradition that still serves as a paradigm for naval warfare. Mrs. Tuchman’s assessments, well written though they are, should be viewed in this larger context.
Sunrise at Abadan: The British and Soviet Invasion of Iran, 1941
Richard A. Stewart. New York: Praeger Publishers, 1988. 291 pp. Photos. Maps. Notes. Bib. Ind. $42.95 ($38.65).
Reviewed by Captain Jon T. Hoffman, U. S. Marine Corps
“As the first glimmer of dawn lit the misty horizon ... the HMS Shoreham trained her forward gun battery on the Iranian warship Palang, which was moored peacefully at an Abadan pier. A moment later, a shell slammed into the Palang, the explosion engulfing the vessel in a ball of fire and smoke.” No, this is not a recounting of the Persian Gulf tanker crisis, nor the opening lines of the latest Third World War novel. Sunrise at Abadan is the complete story of “the most dramatic and controversial untold episode of World War II,” the Anglo- Soviet invasion of neutral Iran in August 1941.
The author, an active-duty Marine Corps major in the electronic warfare field, illuminates an interesting and heretofore obscure campaign. His work goes beyond the narrow boundaries of military history, however, and details the diplomatic and strategic events that led to the battles. In fact, Iran succumbed so quickly that there is little here for the serious student of combat operations.
The tale is nevertheless enthralling. Many readers may be surprised to discover that Britain considered declaring war against the Soviet Union after that nation’s invasion of Poland in September 1939. The Soviet attack on Finland two months later aroused even greater ire in the British cabinet. Winston Churchill, then First Lord of the Admiralty, supported an operation to seize the rail lines and iron ore fields of northern Norway and Sweden as a prelude to assisting the Finns. Only British vacillation and Soviet victory in March 1940 prevented World War II from taking on an entirely different complexion.
The book details how British policy in the Middle East evolved in the perilous months that followed the first winter of the war. The fall of France placed Churchill, an ardent advocate of peripheral strategy, in charge of his government. German success in the Balkans threatened Britain’s position in Iraq. Then Operation Barbarossa brought Joseph Stalin and Churchill into an unlikely alliance. Their first concerted action was the intervention in Iran just two months later. That operation gave Britain control of the oil fields, while the Soviets gained access to U. S. weapons and equipment over the Trans-Iranian Railway. Ultimately, Iran’s search for a counterweight to the Anglo-Soviet occupation force resulted in an increased U. S. presence in the Middle East.
Three themes unfold in the course of the narrative: the important role that these events played in the final outcome of the war, the moral issues that arose from Britain’s assault on a neutral nation, and the historic parallels with the 1979 Islamic revolution. The book is most compelling when it addresses the last issue, such as in the concluding chapter, which details the abdication of the first Shah Reza Pahlavi and the rise to power of his young son, who would himself be forced into exile 38 years later.
The author fares less well with his other objectives. His claim that “Britain would be effectively knocked out of the war” if it lost control of the oil fields does not seem justified by the facts. The United States, with its ample petroleum stocks, would undoubtedly have made up the deficiency. He ascribes equal importance to the Soviet-U. S. supply line running through Iran. The aid did help the Soviets, but the Germans were reeling in defeat long before U. S. equipment arrived in significant quantities. Iran was simply not a critical theater of the war. The moral issue also falls flat. An Allied invasion of the Scandinavian countries in early 1940 would have aroused widespread popular indignation. But no one cared about Iran in 1941, and time has not given the question any greater relevance.
Major Stewart is a fine writer with an eye for diverting anecdotes, such as the Soviet general who “so admired good music that he drafted the entire Tbilisi Opera Company into his headquarters.” However, technical faults mar the effect achieved by his clear prose and thorough research. Typographical errors abound, and confuse the narrative when they involve dates. Some of the maps are also bewildering, since they try to convey too much information with inadequate symbology. In arguing the importance of the Iranian logistics corridor, the author apparently misinterpreted his source, since he seriously misstates the amount of aid given to the Soviets.
Despite its faults. Sunrise at Abadan fills a significant void in the history of World War II. It will not yield any fresh insights into tactical or operational doctrine, but it does provide the reader with invaluable background to the current situation in the Persian Gulf. Those who would direct our future policy in that region should certainly read it.