Samuel Eliot Morison’s Historical World
Gregory M. Pfitzer. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1991. Bib. Illus. Ind. Notes. 367 pp. $29.95 ($26.95).
Reviewed by Captain Roger Pineau, U.S. Naval Reserve (Retired)
Gregory Pfitzer makes it perfectly clear that this book is not a biography. His access to Morison papers in the Harvard University Archives was limited by a restriction prohibiting such use written by Morison himself: “I do not believe in having biographies of historians written during their lifetimes, or shortly thereafter.”
Accordingly, this is principally a study of Morison’s historical world, based on a decade of meticulous research into his extensive writings and the professional movements that influenced them. These constitute, as Pfitzer says, “a virtual intellectual history of the American historical profession from the 1890s to the mid-1970s.” I enjoyed Pfitzer’s well-researched and plausible intradisciplinary disquisitions.
While not a biography, this history for historians does give glimpses of Morison’s life, derived from his highly autobiographical books, articles, and lectures. These will interest the general reader as well as the professional. Rumored to be shy and sensitive in private, Morison was outspoken and controversial in his writings. He could be humorous and witty, or cynical and even savage in his criticism.
Pfitzer is so unclear concerning Morison’s World War I Army service that Dr. Ronald Spector, who reviewed this title for the Washington Post (himself a former director of the Naval Historical Center), concluded that Morison did not get beyond Fort Devens. Actually, his active Army duty included assignment to the Commission to Negotiate Peace, in Paris, and lasted for months after the fighting stopped.
There is also some imprecision about Morison’s naval history duty in World War II, especially concerning his history staff, of which I was a member from 1947 to 1957. A chronological list of wartime and postwar staff members— showing dates and length of service— would have been clarifying.
Some Pfitzer readers and reviewers have been led to believe that we assistants were all unhappy about the credit we received. This is untrue. Morison promised nothing we did not get. I understood from the outset that this was his history, and his alone. He cited my contributions in each preface and inscribed my presentation copies generously. I enjoyed working with Morison, felt I was contributing, and stayed on as long as a growing family was supportable on my modest civilian pay. He once wrote to the Secretary of the Navy that I was the one indispensable member of his staff. (But even I never believed that.) I was never aware of Morison’s using material from Harvard students without their consent.
Concerning Pfitzer’s statement that “Morison was perceived as uncooperative by . . . other service historians,” I must say that this was not reflected in any way in my experience. Morison wanted me to cooperate with other service colleagues—as long as it did not interfere with my work for him. This applied as well to other naval officers and offices, such as Arleigh Burke in his “hill” squabbles, Hyman Rickover, Rafe Bates. Mostly this involved Japanese research and translation. On each of my Japan trips for Morison, I also did research for other service historians.
This Pfitzer book could have profited from a thinning of the tedious accounts of intradisciplinary arguments. And one more editorial screening might have eliminated some of the many “arguings” attributed to Morison—who was usually more demanding than argumentative—and others. There is needless repetition that grandfather Samuel Eliot founded the American Social Science Association.
Some examples of minor errors include: “Admiral Knox” in the subtitle of Chapter 10 should be Secretary of the Navy Knox; the first two volumes of the naval history both appeared (but in reverse order) in 1947, their forewords having been signed by Secretary of Defense James Forrestal, not Secretary Knox (who died in 1944); Pfitzer confuses Secretary Knox with Commodore Dudley W. Knox, author of the introduction to Morison’s Volume I; “Bosco” is Rear Admiral Carlton H. Wright’s nickname, and should have been in quotation marks; and the main battery of the Mississippi (BB-41) consisted of 14- inch, not “sixty-inch,” guns.
However non-biographical this devotedly researched book may be, it stands alone as a testament to Pfitzer’s skill and Morison’s monumental achievements. When the no-biography ban is lifted, let us see who may improve upon it.
Ironclad: The Monitor & the Merrimack
Arthur Mokin. Novato, CA: Presidio Press, 1991. 274 pp. Bib. $22.50 ($20.25).
Ironclads and Columbiads: The Civil War in North Carolina— The Coast
William Trotter. Winston-Salem, NC: John F. Blair, Publisher, 1989. 456 pp. Append. Bib. Illus. Ind. Maps. Notes. Photos. $12.95 ($11.65) paper.
Reviewed by Major Ken McKenzie, Jr., U.S. Marine Corps
William Trotter has written a trilogy that covers all facets of North Carolina’s involvement in the Civil War: Bushwackers: The Mountains deals with the western portion of the state; Silk Flags and Cold Steel: The Piedmont tells the story of the war in the central part; and Ironclads and Columbiads chronicles the war along the coast.
Trotter’s research is solid and workmanlike, based on official records of both the Army and the Navy and a plethora of other primary and secondary sources. His style is brisk, informative, and personal. This is good popular history, well written and accessible. Frequent, well-drawn maps illustrate the bewildering complexity of the region’s tidal estuaries and sounds.
In Ironclads, Trotter has illuminated a comer of the war, namely, the North Carolina coast, that has generally received shabby treatment from professional historians. It was an arena of missed opportunities, both for the North and the South. The ubiquity of Northern sea power created a lever that could be applied with ease anywhere along the coast, and ultimately sea power shaped the war in the littoral Carolinas. The Confederates, hampered by poor communications, strategic misdirection from Richmond, and the lack of a resilient counterpoise to the Union Navy, could only react to the probes and expeditions from the sea.
Trotter’s treatment of Ambrose Bum- side is intriguing. The stumbling, bumbling tyro of the Virginia campaigns of late 1862 is hard to see in the Burnside who commanded the second, and most successful. Union invasion of the coast. Burnside emerges as an intelligent, skillful planner who won significant victories at Roanoke Island, New Bern, and Fort Macon. Indeed, the amphibious campaign directed by Burnside in early 1862 was one of the most effective of the war. His victories were never translated into strategic results, however, because throughout most of the war, the North failed to understand the potential of the North Carolina coast. Union planners persisted in viewing it as an adjunct to Virginian operations. Troop strength fluctuated as a result of success or failure in Virginia. This linkage was always detrimental to operations in the Carolinas.
For the rest of the war, Union strategies in the Carolinas centered around the maintenance of the blockade and limited objective operations ashore. Again, estuarial and riverine sea power provided speedy, safe transportation, interdiction, and fire support. The Confederacy could never seriously challenge this, primarily because of the failure of the Richmond government to create—and sustain—a coherent counter. If the Northern direction of the Carolina war was myopic, the Confederate direction was schizophrenic, compounded by a total inferiority at sea that prevented Confederate commanders from enjoying the flexibility of movement, and security of firepower, that their Northern counterparts had.
Every Confederate failure was permanent, every miscalculation costly because their strategy was, of necessity, one dimensional; they could not challenge the Union Navy. Conversely, for the North, no defeat was total and no setback permanent; the advantage of a two-dimensional strategy that applied both land and naval power.
Arthur Mokin’s Ironclad: The Monitor and the Merrimack is a fictional treatment of the world’s first engagement between armored vessels. Drawing from both primary and secondary sources, it is very much in the tradition of Gore Vidal’s Lincoln:A Novel (Random House, 1984) and William Safire’s Freedom (Doubleday, 1987). His stage is set from the office of the President to the battlefield of First Bull Run; from the jail in Montgomery, where the first commander of the Monitor, John L. Worden, was imprisoned, to the New York office of Captain John Ericsson, her architect.
Although it is difficult to place words in the mouths of historical figures, to deduce private motive from public record, Mokin has generally succeeded. His characters are plausible and reasonably developed, and he captures the soul of a Navy Department tom between the tradition of broad sail and wooden walls, yet pressed by emerging operational demands to consider the armored, steam- propelled warship. Mokin is at his best in describing the tortured deliberations of an examining board confronting the new technology of iron and steam.
The battle scenes themselves are graphic and immediate. On 8 and 9 March 1862, naval warfare was forever changed, as the Merrimack literally crushed the Union’s wooden-hull blockade frigates in Hampton Roads, and then turned on the Monitor. Their lengthy, inconclusive duel was a tactical stalemate, but a strategic victory for the North, since it left the blockade in place and protected the movement of General George McClellan’s army to the Peninsula.
This is a well-written and interesting book, but it is for the general reader who has little knowledge of the inner machinations of the Lincoln Administration and the Union Navy in the Civil War. The informed reader is best served by looking elsewhere. The Gideon Welles diaries and the correspondence of Gustavus Fox, for example, are fascinating reading themselves, and Mokin’s work is heavily based on them.
Margaret Leech’s Reveille in Washington, 1860-1865 (Harper & Brothers, 1941) merely leads the long list of books that do the same thing as Ironclad, but within the constraint of scrupulous historical accuracy. This is the problem with any “docu-novel”: Where does the informed speculation of the author expand and alter the confirmable—and often too scanty— remnants of the record?
Ironclads and Columbiads and Ironclad illuminate the naval contributions in the Civil War. Because neither is written by a professional historian, they both offer a refreshing perspective. The former fills an important niche in Civil War history, and the latter is a diverting read.
Sir Francis Drake
John Sugden. New York: Henry Holt and Co., 1990. 353 pp. Bib. Illus. Ind. Maps. Notes. Photos. $29.95 ($26.95).
Reviewed by Captain John Coote, Royal Navy (Retired)
In 1988 Britain celebrated the 400th anniversary of the defeat of the Spanish Armada. It seemed to be appropriate that another Elizabeth sat on the throne of England, whose husband ironically was given the same first name as the archenemy of her Tudor forebear. King Philip II of Spain and Portugal. National euphoria ran rife, with special exhibitions in maritime museums, hours of TV coverage, and countless feature articles doing little to put the Armada or Elizabeth’s greatest sea captain—the fiery little social-climbing pirate from Devon— into their true perspective. The most frequently quoted story of them all concerns the moment when the leading ships of the Armada were reported to be off the Lizard, almost in sight of Plymouth. Francis Drake, or El Draque, and some other captains in that part of the British fleet best placed to make the first interception were playing bowls on the Plymouth Hoe.
“There is plenty of time to finish the game and beat the Spaniards too,” said Drake before choosing his moment to sally forth and strike the first mortal blow against the arrogant dons. Professor John Sugden dismisses this story out of hand, however, pointing out that no credible authority for it exists. But, with a head wind and the tide in Plymouth Sound about to turn foul, there would be no chance of towing his big unwieldy ships out to sea as soon as the enemy was first sighted. So, like it or not, Drake had at least four hours to kill before there was any point in boarding his flagship Revenge.
Even after exposure to all the hype of the 400th anniversary, most of the general public go on believing that Drake led our fleet to a great naval victory over the Duke of Medonia Sidonia’s numerically superior force. (The victorious commander was in truth Lord Howard of Effingham.) In spite of legend, the victory really belonged to the tides and fierce gales that finally scattered the Spanish ships after they had cut their anchors as eight fire ships bore down on them off Calais. Drake was a subordinate—albeit prone to independent initiative, such as seizing Rosario when she became a straggler off the Isle of Wight. It was typical of his luck that she carried most of the funds to finance the Armada. Nor was the plan to use fire ships exclusively Drake’s, although he was an enthusiastic supporter and, ever impatient for action, pressed to employ ships of the fleet rather than wait for specially prepared hulls from shore bases.
This important book deals with other aspects of the Drake legend, such as attributing supernatural powers to him, enshrined in Sir Henry Newbold’s epic poem of 1897 in which he assured his fellow countrymen that Drake’s drum would beat the nation to quarters (battle stations) whenever England was threatened by invasion from the sea.
In his preface, written in 1989, Professor Sugden claimed that a biography of Drake was “long overdue.” Those who have read and enjoyed George M. Thomson’s masterly and more readable 1972 biography may question that assertion. My view, probably shared by such disparate and wholehearted admirers as Admiral Chester B. Nimitz and Mrs. Margaret Thatcher, is that there is always room on one’s shelves for more about Drake. Sugden can claim to have explored fresh territory, such as Drake’s first voyage to the West Indies, his rise from obscurity to being a wealthy landowner and mayor of Plymouth, his services in Ireland, and his plans to support the Portuguese pretender Dom Antonio.
Although I have found its index not wholly reliable, the book is well supported by charts and illustrations. Anyone who is remotely interested in England’s greatest sea captain and how San Francisco got its name must read it. But judge its central character by the standards of his age, when even the highest in the land saw nothing wrong in investing in expeditions whose profit depended on selling slaves and helping themselves by force of arms to Spanish gold wherever it could be found. In Elizabethan days, such ventures were as respectable as insider trading became in our fathers’ time.
The Sea Is at Our Gates: The History of the Canadian Navy
Commander Tony German. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1990. 360 pp. Append. Bib. Ind. Maps. Notes. Photos. $39.95.
Reviewed by Barry Gough
To outsiders, Canada’s naval disposition has always been somewhat of an enigma. The nation has coasts on three great oceans—the Atlantic, the Pacific, and the Arctic—and it shares the Great Lakes with its neighbor, the United States. Its geographical position in the northern hemisphere between Europe on the one hand and Asia on the other involves it in the great events of the world. Modern history since the 17th century has always seen Canada engaged in one way or another, from the 18th-century imperial wars, the two Great Wars, the Korean War, and the conflict in the Persian Gulf. Only in Vietnam did Canada stand aside. In other cases—as in World War I and World War II—its entry into the conflicts predated that of the United States, and its naval and military efforts were of a different sort, reflecting Canadian capabilities and distinctly Canadian missions.
As Tony German explains in this lucidly written, well-researched, and attractively illustrated survey, Canada has a maritime and naval past that is all too neglected by politicians. Given its geographical position and potential to contribute to global well-being, it is all the more surprising that the nation has chosen to neglect its fleet, and, more, to neglect its merchant marine. For a nation that depends on trade for its living, the failure to develop a distinctive trading policy on the seas is a gross error of omission. Yet history provides numerous examples of the dependency that Canada has on its seas and, moreover, the gifts that have been bestowed upon the nation by its sea gates and ocean highways.
This book, the first survey of the subject not to bear the imprint of an official history, is a most welcome contribution to naval studies, for it asks why a great naval service has been allowed to be wound down to the state of national embarrassment among NATO powers. Commander German’s observations are all the more relevant, especially considering that the present government’s plans to build a ten-vessel nuclear-powered submarine fleet were torpedoed by the same cabinet that adopted the proposal. That same government canceled plans for a major icebreaker that would have provided a modicum of Maple Leaf presence to the Arctic passages which are so dear to Canadian strategic thinking and psychological security.
But the present policy, we learn from this book, has numerous precedents, all of them a sorry chronicle of missed opportunities. As Vice Admiral Harry De- Wolf puts it in his foreword, “In spite of the fact that Canada borders on three oceans, and much of our trade is seaborne, we lack a firm national maritime policy and continue to lean on our friends and allies.”
The Canadian government refused to back the Royal Navy in its time of need (1909-1912), deciding instead, under Prime Minister Sir Wilfrid Laurier, to constitute its own naval service, the forerunner of the Royal Canadian Navy (RCN). But this navy never amounted to more than a bureau until the pressing exigencies of 1914 brought forth a surge in naval construction and enlistments. Even so, the Canadian government concentrated on sending soldiers to France and Flanders while the Imperial German Navy sent submarines to the coasts of Nova Scotia and Quebec to prey on Canadian shipping.
Such a lesson was lost on Canadian politicians, who played ostrich in the postwar period. Not until the late 1930s did the Canadian Navy come into its own with proper ships, namely, destroyers built in Britain for Canadian needs. Those ships and others that followed became the basis of one of the most remarkable rises in naval power of any nation, and by the close of World War II, the ships, officers, and men of the RCN had earned their rightful place in the annals of sea warfare.
In 1945 Canada entered into what is called in Canadian naval history “Big Ship Time.” Large cruisers and aircraft carriers became the pride of the fleet, and fast destroyer escorts were built to take up a special duty for Canada in NATO naval missions: antisubmarine warfare and convoy protection, the two duties in which Canadian tactical planners and Canadian science and technology had special qualifications. Here was a mid-sized naval power with a distinct naval duty.
Gradually, however, the cruisers and carriers were sold or discarded; successful attempts at hydrofoil ships were jettisoned; old ships were refitted rather than new ships being designed. Financial exigency replaced strategic planning, and the military, long a center of gravity of the state, fell into increasing disrepute. The climax came in 1965 when the RCN was buried—or more correctly, subsumed— into a united service. Numerous admirals resigned in protest; public outcry did not deter politicians who could not be convinced that a separate service, if for no other reason than morale, was worth saving.
Commander German tells his story with forthright courage and personal knowledge. A World War II veteran who commanded three Canadian destroyers, he acquired expertise in weapon systems and antisubmarine warfare. Familiar with technological innovation from his work in private industry, he has also gained wide experience in the media and in education. Now a professional writer, he brings insight and knowledge to this subject, and his book explains that despite constant cutting back of naval resources, a keen professionalism has always existed in the Canadian Navy.
What is needed, as Commander German’s book rightly states, is articulate spokesmen for naval concerns and broader defense questions within the nation. NATO’s naval missions are changing dramatically in the early 1990s; far from Canada’s naval obligations diminishing, they will probably increase, and it will only take an unforeseeable change in the international winds for Canada to realize that protection of its maritime interests for purely selfish interests is a goal well worth pursuing.
Books of Interest
By Lieutenant Commander Thomas J. Cutler, U.S. Navy (Retired)
A Bibliography of the United States Navy and the Conflict in Southeast Asia, 1950-1975
Edward J. Marolda and James Lesher, editors. Washington, DC: Naval Historical Center, 1991. 100 pp. Free (paper). Order direct: NHC, Navy Department Library, Building 44, Washington Navy Yard, Washington, DC 20374.
This excellent bibliography revises and updates A Select Bibliography of the United States Navy and the Southeast Asian Conflict, 1950-1975, which appeared in 1983. The cited works are categorized and include books, public documents, and articles on subjects ranging from Riverine Operations and Prisoners of War to Civic Actions and Maritime Evacuations.
Iwo Jima: Monuments, Memories, and the American Hero
Karal Ann Marling and John Wetenhall. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991. 305 pp. Illus. Ind. Notes. Photos. $24.95 ($22.45).
Focusing on the results of the split second when Associated Press photographer Joe Rosenthal snapped the shutter on the flag-raising at Iwo Jima, Marling and Wetenhall examine the effects of that symbol of U.S. valor on society in the United States. Whether recreated in bronze (as in the giant monument in the nation’s capital) or on film (as in the epic Sands of Iwo Jima) or in flowers for the Rose Bowl parade, that image of Marines raising their nation’s flag during one of the bloodiest battles of the Pacific War has had a profound impact on the nation. The authors study that impact, giving the first encyclopedic account of the building of the Marine Corps War Memorial, examining its many imitations worldwide, and concluding with coverage of a 1985 meeting on the island itself of Japanese and U.S. veterans of the battle.
Korean War Heroes
Edward F. Murphy. Novato, CA: Presidio Press, 1992. 304 pp. Append. Ind. Photos. $24.95 ($22.45).
The exploits of 131 Korean War heroes who received the Medal of Honor are recounted in a unique fashion. Unlike other books on such recipients of this nation’s highest award for valor, which merely treat each awardee as a separate case, Murphy’s work weaves them into a narrative that recounts the events of the Korean War, from the dark days of the Pusan Perimeter to the stalemated end. Murphy is president of the Medal of Honor Historical Society and has written similar books on Vietnam and World War II.
The Last Sailing Battlefleet: Maintaining Naval Mastery, 1815-1850
Andrew Lambert. London: Conway Maritime Press, 1991. 224 pp. Append. Bib. Illus. Ind. Maps. Notes. Photos. £35.00.
In the last days of sail. Great Britain maintained a powerful, economical, and effective naval fleet that mastered the oceans of the world. This large-format book reveals (through many photographs, line drawings, maps, and a well-written and well-researched narrative) the composition, capabilities, strategy, tactics, design, construction, maintenance, and employment of that fleet.
Naval Mastery, 1815-1850
Andrew Lambert. London: Conway Maritime Press, 1991. 224 pp. Append. Bib. Illus. Ind. Maps. Notes. Photos. £35.00.
In the last days of sail. Great Britain maintained a powerful, economical, and effective naval fleet that mastered the oceans of the world. This large-format book reveals (through many photographs, line drawings, maps, and a well-written and well-researched narrative) the composition, capabilities, strategy, tactics, design, construction, maintenance, and employment of that fleet.
Register of Ships of the U.S. Navy, 1775-1990
K. Jack Bauer and Stephen S. Roberts. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1991. 376 pp. Bib. Gloss. Ind. Photos. $75.00 ($67.50).
Summaries of the history, technical specifications, and combat significance of all the major combat ships of the U.S. Navy are brought together in one volume for easy reference. Ships are arranged by type and then chronologically by date of authorization. Indexes make access by name or by hull number possible. Data provided include builders, construction dates, key technical specifications, final disposition, and changes to construction, names, and classifications.
Sacred Vessels: The Cult of the Battleship and the Rise of the U.S. Navy
Robert L. O’Connell. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1991. 423 pp. Append. Illus. Ind. Notes. Photos. $24.95 ($22.45).
With irreverence and wit, O’Connell contends that the battleship never was an effective weapon, even before the submarine and aircraft sealed its doom. The seductive appearance and perceived power of these magnificent monsters caught the imagination of naval officer and politician alike, and at the dawn of the 20th century, they were the “international currency of great power status.” O’Connell warns that important contemporary lessons can be garnered from studying this “exercise in tunnel vision,” and he sees a parallel between yesteryear’s dreadnought and the nuclear weapons of our own time.
A Sailor of Austria
John Biggins. London: Mandarin Paperbacks, 1991. 370 pp. £4.99 paper.
In this unusual novel, Ottohar Prohaska is commanding officer of a submarine in the waning days of the Hapsburg Empire. World War I sea engagements are not the only interesting aspects of this story. Prohaska must contend with the Allied Navy and with bouts of “petrol sickness,” a head that periodically explodes, and the transportation of a racing camel. Despite these unlikely-sounding exploits, this novel reveals a great deal about a little-known comer of “The Great War” where Austrian submarines fought on and beneath the Adriatic.