Guadalcanal: The Definitive Account of the Landmark Battle
Richard B. Frank. New York: Penguin Books, 1992. 812 pp. Append. Ind. Maps. Notes. Photos. Tables. $16.00 ($14.40) paper.
Reviewed by Colonel Wendell N. Vest, U.S. Marine Corps (Retired)
The Battle for Guadalcanal was fought 50 years ago. Since that time the many accounts of what took place have ranged from the reports of journalists who were there to far-ranging historical works to official histories, both Japanese and U.S., to numerous memoirs and biographies. Richard B. Frank claims that Guadalcanal is the most complete and accurate history of the battle. Considering that he took more than ten years to research and write this book, and that of the 800 pages published, 119 are of source notes (including translations of many Japanese records), it is difficult not to agree.
The landing by the 1st Marine Division on Guadalcanal was the first attempt by the United States to retake from the Japanese territory gained in their sweep into the South Pacific after Pearl Harbor. The operation itself was controversial in that few believed the United States was ready for a counteroffensive. The forces used were cobbled together from Marine units earmarked for other assignments and naval forces—some of whom were still licking their wounds after the Battle of Midway. Information about the objective area was almost nonexistent, though intelligence about the enemy— derived from signal and radio traffic analysis, as well as cryptoanalysis—was better. The entire concept was risky to the extreme. Fortunately, the landings achieved tactical and strategic surprise, and the Marines were able to seize their objective, i.e., the airstrip under construction, in short order.
The Japanese reacted furiously to the U.S. seizure of the island. This reaction took the form of sea and air attacks, plus landing forces on the island to attack the Marine defense of the crucial airfield. For a month or so the battle hung in the balance. Slowly, the U.S. forces gained the upper hand, and the Japanese were forced to abandon their counterattack. It was the turning point of the war in the Pacific. When the Battle of Guadalcanal was finally over, the United States had seized the initiative in the war and the Japanese were on the defensive thereafter.
Frank, in describing the battle ashore, shows how the Japanese misjudged the strength and the will of the Marines defending the airfield, Marines who withstood the daily air attacks, sea bombardment, and increasingly desperate Japanese assaults, as well as the ravages of disease.
The battles fought at sea, because they were such an important part of the entire campaign (and in some cases even more devastating in terms of casualties and damage), are given exceedingly detailed and knowledgeable coverage. Of the seven major sea battles connected with the campaign, five were surface encounters involving cruisers, destroyers, and battleships, and two were clashes between carrier battle groups. The Japanese showed superiority in early night surface encounters, inflicting heavy losses on U.S. forces. The loss of two U.S. aircraft carriers—one to air attack, and one to a submarine attack—was also a severe blow.
The air war was just as dicey. Japanese and U.S. aviators fought on an equal footing both in skill and equipment in the early stages, with losses on both sides about equal. It was only after the airfield on Guadalcanal became fully operational and reinforced with fighter and bomber aircraft that the tide began to turn against the Japanese. Frank gives the reader a look at the high command on both sides and the crucial strategic decisions that were made, as well as a critical analysis of the commanders on the scene and the good and bad decisions made under the stress of combat.
Frank’s writing is clear and precise, and he has made good use of the volumes of material covered in his research. Aside from the need for a good map of the Solomons area, the author’s claim of the “definitive account” is correct.
Fading Victory: The Diary of Admiral Matome Ugaki, 1941- 1945
Donald M. Goldstein and Katherine V. Dillon, editors; translated by Masataka Chihaya. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1991. 713 pp. Append. Bib. Gloss. Ind. Notes. Photos. Tables. $29.95 ($26.95).
Reviewed by Commander Robert C. Whitten, U.S. Naval Reserve (Retired)
The 50th anniversary of Pearl Harbor heralded a flood of books that deal with numerous aspects of the war in the Pacific. The annotated diary of Admiral Ugaki, Chief-of-Staff of the Combined Fleet, Imperial Japanese Navy, at the time of the attack was an important addition.
By late 1940 the Japanese were mired in China with little hope of success, unless the severe shortages of steel scrap and petroleum—caused by the U.S. embargo—could be somehow relieved. The obvious solution to the petroleum shortage lay in the “Southward Advance” favored by the Navy, which would open the Dutch East Indies to exploitation of its oil riches. Despite his key position, Ugaki says little about the planning process for the attack, due in part to the beginning date, 16 October 1941, but also undoubtedly to his unwillingness to commit such sensitive information to a personal diary.
At the beginning of the diary the Hawaiian attack is not certain, hinging on negotiations between Franklin Roosevelt’s administration and the Japanese envoys. U.S. unwillingness to lift the embargo led to failure, and the attack proceeded as planned. Ugaki follows the ups and downs of this segment of history on a day-to-day basis, rendering it especially fascinating because of the author’s position in the fleet hierarchy.
At the vantage point of 50 years later, it seems self-evident that the Japanese were doomed to defeat. Yet it did not appear so at the time. Indeed, nearly four long years elapsed before the surrender. In spite of initial successes, the Japanese failed to take advantage of the opportunities that arose. Staff work described by Ugaki was desultory and unimaginative, mediocre senior officers were retained, the naval leadership (excluding Ugaki) were obsessed with the “decisive battle,” and much of the Japanese naval force (for example, submarines) was used ineffectively.
What sort of man was Ugaki? Judging from his diary, the admiral was a kindly person much interested in his people, even on one occasion helping a lowly petty officer. He was a religious man (presumably Buddhist), intensely patriotic, something of a poet, and deeply in love with his dead wife. Moreover, he never forgave himself for arranging the flight in which Commander-in-Chief Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto was ambushed and killed (Ugaki was one of two survivors). It was one of the tragedies of history that he took off on the last suicide mission of the war. A note left among his belongings read, “Having a dream, I will go up into the sky.”
The book is not without its flaws. Most importantly, the diary contains no maps. In addition, there are a number of inexcusable errors: for example, labeling in the editors’ notes the antiaircraft cruiser Atlanta (CL-51) a heavy cruiser, referring to the destroyer Sims (DD-409) as a tanker, translating the phase of the moon to read “age of the moon,” etc. Moreover, some of the translation is awkward. The book was obviously produced in haste in order to meet the Pearl Harbor anniversary date. Despite these quibbles, Fading Victory is an important addition to the literature of World War II and is strongly recommended to serious students of that conflict.
The Eagle and the Dragon: The United States Military in China, 1901-1937
Dennis L. Noble. New York: Greenwood Press, 1990. 239 pp. Bib. Gloss. Ind. Notes. Photos. Tables. $39.95 ($35.95).
Reviewed by Rear Admiral Kemp Tolley, U.S. Navy (Retired)
We in China in the mid-1930s were a gossamer Caucasian net thrown pervasively over a vast land of wide variety where we were felt but not feeling. We had been freed from the humdrum, tediously repetitive drills at sea and dull weekends in San Diego or Norfolk to see, hear, and smell a totally different life where the clock went faster, great expectations materialized, and money stretched five times further. We learned from our British mentors how to live the club life and how to treat “the natives” with an air of casual superiority so clear that a baring of fangs rarely was necessary.
We were “in” but not “of’ China, speaking pidgin English with our only native contacts—shopkeepers, coolies, rickshaw pullers, boat people, mafoos (stable boys), and amahs (devoted nurses for baby). But none of us was able to utter a single coherent sentence in our hosts’ difficult singsong language, the dialects of which were manifold. Nor was there ever a dinner in a Chinese home; not even so much as a cup of tea. (The responses of military men and their families make it clear that they did not understand China—the country or the people—principally because of the cultural baggage brought with them from the United States and their inability to communicate.)
Author Dennis Noble has expanded on these generalities through extensive interviews with and questionnaires from U.S. Army, Navy, and Marine Corps personnel who served in 20th-century China. He has delved into the intimate story of that generally inarticulate group, the enlisted men: their impressions, loves, hates, relationships, regrets, and reminiscences. What individually motivated those few who hated China; the majority who took it in stride, ready to serve their hitch and move on; the few who “went Asiatic” and never wanted to leave? Noble pretty well answers it.
Research of official records has turned up some revealing statistics on morale, discipline, and recruitment. Noble found the earlier officer-enlisted conflict had by the 1920s improved to a relationship of mutual respect, though it was still clearly stratified; enlisted men of the Army and Marines continued to address their officers in the third person. The quality of enlisted men had improved markedly, with wholesale desertions and courts-martial of the early part of the century reduced nearly to zero by 1937. Of course, the quality of recruits rose and fell with the economic situation, but the motivation for naval officers appeared to emanate from a highly indoctrinated fraternity—graduates of the Naval Academy—a continuity of tradition that transcended the sapping influence of periods between wars or of wide economic fluctuations.
One hears too often of the U.S. military stereotypes in China—the drunk, the clown, the plug-ugly, the womanizer— who tend to overshadow the large majority living normal lives. There was a tremendous rivalry in sports and a wide use of the YMCAs, military clubs, special hangouts, and small hotels that catered to the enlisted men. To picture military personnel universally as drunken
louts is simplistic and wholly inaccurate. In pre-1920 days, some enlisted men had their “pigs” (affectionately so called), low-class Chinese women who followed them from port to port. Then came the White Russians and more meaningful romances, but on the enlisted’s pittance, very few marriages.
What, then, was the charm of China? Variety, a lifestyle far above that affordable back home, easy and exotic romances, an international atmosphere with strong European overtones, lax discipline both military and personal, no long boat rides to “hit the beach,” a feeling of being superior, wives with no cares of housekeeping or tending baby, though—too often and sadly enough—not equipped or motivated to take advantage of the wonders surrounding them.
And why were we there? Noble does not specifically address this question; his principal target is to dissect the lives and motives of those who from 1901 to 1937 manned a progressively smaller and more obsolete mini-fleet, understood by all to be expendable, but enjoyable in which to serve. During those years of two major revolutions and constant turmoil between, only a handful of U.S. military men died violently, with one ship lost in action. U.S. property (valued in the millions) was protected; many hundreds of citizens were saved from mayhem or worse.
From one who saw that story unfold, I’d say Noble has caught living history by the tail. Judging by the copious notes (plus his extensive bibliography and excellent index), his research has been wide and thorough. In all. The Eagle and the Dragon is a very, very entertaining and informative book.
NIPSIC to NIMITZ: A Centennial History of Puget Sound Naval Shipyard
Louise M. Reh and Helen Lou Ross. Bremerton, Wa.: Bremerton Managers’ Association Chapter 14, 1991. 301 pp. Append. Bib. Illus. Ind. Photos. $50.00.
Reviewed by Rear Admiral Randolph W. King, U.S. Navy (Retired)
This carefully researched narrative and fully illustrated book is a welcome addition to the relatively limited array of publications documenting the history and significant contributions of major maritime facilities. In this case it is the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard. The preliminary vision of a few individuals who foresaw the requirement for a major installation such as a navy yard, their dedication and perseverance to create one, and the difficulty of sustaining a viable entity through political vicissitudes are documented with clarity in this history of the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard. The authors focus on individuals of the shipyard who brought to useful life a collection of buildings and equipment.
The story starts with the vision of Lieutenant Ambrose B. Wycoff, who in 1877 arrived in a Seattle that had fewer than 3,000 inhabitants. On temporary duty with a Coast and Geodetic Survey party, he was convinced that the Puget Sound area should be the site of the principal West Coast naval establishment and proposed that 200,000 acres be selected for this purpose. A presidential commission in 1888 appointed. Captain Alfred T. Mahan the senior of three naval officers members to study the matter. After Washington became a state in 1889, a dry dock was authorized on not more than 200 acres—won by the “skin of our teeth,” according to Wycoff, who was ordered to Puget Sound to undertake the task. He assumed command of the Puget Sound Naval Station on 16 September 1891, but for medical reasons was placed on the retired list a little under two years later. He returned for the first docking in the new dry dock, 1 April 1896.
Considerable foresight is evident in the immense size specified for dry dock 2 at the start of the 20th century. Groundbreaking occurred on 4 January 1909 and dedication on 1 March 1913. Planners must keep in mind the time required to design and construct such a facility in order that it be available when emergency situations arise and to meet demands of ship developments. In 1930 this dry dock was lengthened to 867 feet to accommodate the aircraft carriers Lexington and Saratoga. The book describes justification for and construction of additional dry docks 3-6 as well as many other shops and support capabilities.
NIPS/C to NIMITZ is full of interesting anecdotal material of both human and engineering importance. Valuable contributions by women extend from World War I, with nurses, “yeomanettes,” and industrial employees (forerunners of Rosie the Riveter of World War II). Women currently compose approximately 15 percent of the work force. A largely volunteer effort resulted in opening a shipyard chapel in 1938. Another vignette describes the USS Lexington furnishing electrical power to the city of Tacoma in late 1929 and early 1930. A special and important aspect of naval engineering is the shipyard’s contribution to the difficult skill of underwater welding. Yet another facet is assistance rendered by the shipyard to commercial ships from time to time.
There are detailed chapter notes and reference citations, a useful bibliography, and an excellent index. Three appendixes—a list of key military and civilian personnel, multigeneration shipyard families, and a short glossary—enhance the appeal of this history.
This book will attract naval history buffs, most particularly those interested in broad aspects of maritime industrial history: the people and facilities involved in creating, constructing, and maintaining the Navy’s ships. This naval engineer was delighted to relive associations and events through this lovingly prepared work. The important mission of the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard continues despite recurring assurances by pundits and politicians that never-ending peace has been achieved.
Submarine Diary: The Silent Stalking of Japan
Rear Admiral Corwin Mendenhall, U.S. Navy (Retired). Chapel Hill, NC: Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 1991. 290 pp. Append. Photos. $19.95.
Reviewed by Commander John D. Alden, U.S. Navy (Retired)
Drawing on his wartime diary. Admiral Mendenhall presents a day-by-day account of his 11 war patrols in the submarines Sculpin (SS-191) and Pintado (SS-387), plus intervening experiences that spanned almost the entire war against Japan. Such coverage gives an unusually realistic picture of submarine activity and daily life while on war patrol. As a World War II submariner, I can attest to the complete realism of the book. It surely brings the submarine war—its problems and disappointments as well as its camaraderie—back to mind. Not all of our shipmates were as devoted or well trained, nor our leaders as infallible, as we would like to remember. The Sculpin’s junior officers, for example, clearly wanted skipper Lucius Chappell (whose caution was understandable in view of his boat’s limitations) to be more aggressive, and Mendenhall’s resentment over his treatment by Captain Bernard “Chick” Clarey on board the Pintado still simmers 47 years later.
The author’s approach is not without certain drawbacks. On many days, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Mendenhall’s descriptions of routine daily occurrences and personal activities, such as comments on the books he read, are of interest, but the reader is tempted to skip the repetitive passages. Also, the diary style does not leave much room for explanations of the many events and activities mentioned. As a result, the book appeals to different levels of interest, depending on the reader’s background. Much of it is presented in such a low key that non-submariners, or even people with nuclear submarine experience, may miss some of the drama as well as the nuances that World War II veterans will fill in from memory.
Mendenhall’s view of submarine life is somewhat limited since it primarily reflects his duties as torpedo officer in one boat and executive officer in the other. The living conditions and experiences of enlisted sailors, in particular, were something else again. A minor distraction is the mention of too many friends and acquaintances, along with their Naval Academy status, which are of no relevance to the main thrust of the book.
Such carping aside, every reader will be impressed by the contrast between the Sculpin of 1941—42 and the Pintado of 1944-45. In dimension and outward appearance they were almost identical, and once the Sculpin was updated after her sixth patrol, her capabilities were not drastically inferior to those of her newer sister. Until then, however, her crew had to make do with insufficient fresh water, no search radar or effective sonar, and only 46 bunks for up to 68 enlisted men. By 1945 the Pintado’s crew had grown to 79 men and 10 officers, but somehow more bunks were squeezed into the standard hull, along with all the other new equipment. The scandal of the Navy’s defective torpedoes has been thoroughly aired in other books. Perhaps less appreciated—especially in the light of current submarine capabilities—is how limited even our newest World War II boats were in submerged speed and endurance. Mendenhall and his fellows suffered the repeated frustration of sighting targets that remained just out of reach or escaped torpedoes with seeming impunity.
When Lieutenant Commander Mendenhall left Australia in April 1945, the happy hunting days of the submarine force were largely past, but the war was by no means over for those he left behind. The Bonefish (SS-223) was lost in the Sea of Japan in June, and the Bullhead (SS-332) in August near Bali in the Java Sea.
Readers must take wartime accounts of ship sinkings in the light of postwar knowledge. It is true that the U.S. submarine force accounted for some 5.3 million tons of confirmed Japanese ships sunk—over half of that country’s shipping lost during the war. But this is much less than was claimed at the time. For the Sculpin’s seven patrols, Mendenhall lists 15 ships sunk (1 later salvaged) and 1 damaged: actually, Chappell’s patrol reports claim 9 ships sunk and 9 damaged. Moreover, postwar analysis of Japanese records shows only the destroyer Suzukaze hit during the first four patrols, plus two cargo ships and two small craft sunk later.
For the Pintado, Mendenhall says 14 ships were sunk and 1 damaged, but Japanese records support only eight sinkings and one case of damage. The tonnage figures are even more disparate: 104,849 tons sunk and 10,000 damaged according to Mendenhall versus verified losses of 41,461 tons sunk and 870 damaged. It is, of course, possible that records of other attacks have been lost. Much is still to be learned about submarine successes and failures in the Pacific war. Admiral Mendenhall has told it like it was to him, and in doing so he has added significantly to the growing body of firsthand accounts by participants in the submarine campaigns of World War II.
Books of Interest
By Lieutenant Commander Thomas J. Cutler, U.S. Navy (Retired)
Admirals and Empire: The United States Navy and the Caribbean, 1898-1945
Donald A. Yerxa. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1991. 212 pp. Append. Bib. Gloss. Ind. Notes. Photos. $34.95 ($31.45).
With the opening of the Panama Canal, the Caribbean’s strategic importance to the United States was greatly enhanced. From interventions tainted with imperialism to the crucial defense of the vital Caribbean during the two World Wars, the U.S. Navy was the instrument of policy in this region for half a century. Craig Symonds, Chairman of the History Department at the U.S. Naval Academy, writes, “I am impressed by the breadth and quality of the research that went into this book,” and historian Clark Reynolds describes it as “must reading for any serious student of the U.S. Navy and foreign policy.”
The Civil War: The Best of American Heritage
Stephen W. Sears, editor. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1991. 255 pp. $19.95 ($17.95).
Sears, author of the highly praised account of the Battle of Antietam, Landscape Turned Red, has collected some of the best Civil War articles from American Heritage magazine. Presented without illustrations, the prose stands alone in this fine collection that includes the works of such notables as Bruce Catton, Allan Nevins, and Stephen B. Oates. Some of the articles are “General Grant’s Gallant Last Battle,” “The Burning of Chambersburg,” and “Lee’s Greatest Victory.”
Derailing the Tokyo Express: The Naval Battles for the Solomon Islands That Sealed Japan’s Fate
Jack D. Coombe. Harrisburg, Pa.: Stackpole Books, 1991. 176 pp. Bib. Ind. Maps. Notes. Photos. $19.95 ($17.95) paper.
Contending that the defeat of the Japanese in the Solomons, not the Battle of Midway, was the turning point in the Pacific War, Coombe, a veteran of the campaign and a professional writer, vividly recounts this crucial period in World War II. A generous dosage of easily understood maps and eight pages of photographs enhance this excellent account.
Dictionary of American Naval Fighting Ships: Volume I— Part A
James L. Mooney, editor. Washington. D.C.: Naval Historical Center, 1991. 544 pp. Gloss. Illus. Maps. Photos. $29.00 ($26.10).
Many ships have served in the U.S. Navy since the original edition of this important reference work appeared in 1959. This new edition, which covers all Navy combatants from the A-l to the Azurlite, not only adds the newcomers, it fleshes out the old ones, providing entirely new accounts with more detailed information and a better appreciation of the vessels’ historical settings. Admiral Arleigh Burke, who wrote the foreword to the original edition, has enhanced this one as well.
Hitler Slept Late: And Other Blunders That Cost Him the War
James P. Duffy. Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1991. 192 pp. Bib. Ind. Notes. $19.95 ($17.95).
Duffy makes a strong case supporting his contention that it was not so much U.S. strength and resources that defeated Germany (which is the popular view Stateside) as it was the costly mistakes made by Adolf Hitler himself. It was Hitler’s inability to formulate a long- range plan and his unswerving belief in himself as a military genius that sealed his doom. More specifically, some of his more costly errors were: allowing the British Expeditionary Force to escape from Dunkirk; attacking the Soviet Union before defeating Britain; and forbidding German retreats throughout the war, which caused irreplaceable German losses. These and many other misjudgments defeated Hitler.
The Iron Guns of Willard Park
John C. Reilly, Jr., Washington, D.C.: Naval Historical Center, 1991. 110 pp. Bib. Gloss. Illus. Photos. Order direct: NHC, Navy Dept. Library, Building 44, Washington Navy Yard, Washington, D.C. 20374.
Those fortunate enough to have visited the Washington Navy Yard are aware of the extensive collection of naval ordnance on display there. This book describes each of the iron guns (a companion volume describes the bronze guns of Leutze Park) and provides a concise background to the history and technology of naval weapons. Chapters describe the variations of ordnance, gunpowder, gun carriages, loading and firing, and ammunition, among others.
Military Reunion Handbook
Bill Masciangelo and Tom Ninkovich. San Francisco: Reunion Research, 1991. 225 pp. Append. Bib. Illus. Ind. Maps. Photos. $12.95 paper.
A step-by-step manual for reunion organizers, this book describes how to locate people, select an appropriate meeting site, publicize the event, estimate costs, raise the necessary funds, make name tags, plan tours, use computers, keep records, decorate, et cetera. Every conceivable detail of planning and executing a military reunion is covered.
None Died in Vain: The Saga of the American Civil War
Robert Leckie: New York: Harper Perennial, 1991. 700 pp. Bib. Ind. Maps. $15.00 ($13.50) paper.
“Readers won’t find a finer one-volume popular introduction to the War Between the States,” claims Publishers Weekly. From the prelude of combat in the Mexican War to the surrender of the last Confederate holdouts, this well-written version of the Civil War is comprehensive yet concise. Leckie is the author of more than 20 books—both fiction and non-fiction—including the well-known (and autobiographical) Helmet for My Pillow.
Pearl Harbor, 1941: A Bibliography The Battles of Coral Sea and Midway, 1942: A Selected Bibliography
Myron J. Smith, Jr. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1991. 224 and 184 pp. (respectively). Bib. Ind. $55.00 ($49.50) each.
These two volumes are part of a series entitled Bibliographies of Battles and Leaders and are probably the most comprehensive book- form listings of works on the subjects. Each volume contains well over 1,000 citations, including books, journals, atlases, document/ manuscript collections, and foreign-language materials. Special topics such as hardware and tactics are separately treated, both authors and names are indexed, and chronologies and overviews are provided. All of which makes these books indispensable to anyone researching these topics.
WW II Wrecks of Palau
Dan E. Bailey. Redding. Calif.: North Valley Diver Publications, 1991. 246 pp. Append. Bib. Gloss. Illus. Ind. Maps. Photos. $36.95 ($33.25).
Meticulous research, stunning underwater photography, and an informative narrative combine to create this unusual book. A key Japanese stronghold in World War II, the Palau Islands are today littered with the remnants of that once-powerful empire, from identifiable pieces of aircraft to the eerie hulk of a destroyer. This large (a full 13.5 inches wide) book is both a diver’s delight and a historian’s dream with its beautiful photography (in some of the clearest water in the world) and its detailed account of the Japanese occupation and their eventual demise.
