In Full Glory Reflected: Discovering the War of 1812 in the Chesapeake
Ralph E. Eshelman and Burton K. Kummerow. Maryland Historical Society Press and the Maryland Historical Trust Press, 2012. 270 pp. Illus. Maps. Index. $24.99.
Reviewed by Wayne Wei-siang Hsieh
Part illustrated history and part tourist guide, this book serves as a capable and accessible introduction to Maryland’s role in the War of 1812. The narrative is briskly written and judicious, with visual aides to help modern visitors understand the relevant historical sites. Published by a public-private partnership that includes the National Park Service, Maryland Historical Society, Maryland Historical Trust, and Maryland War of 1812 Bicentennial Commission, In Full Glory Reflected is also a useful commemorative volume that introduces what to many remains a relatively unknown conflict. Maryland Governor Martin O’Malley contributed the foreword; historian Donald R. Hickey the introduction. Illustrations are by Gerry Embleton, Richard Schlecht, and Patrick O’Brien; maps by Robert E. Pratt.
Including the tourist guide was an inspired choice, as this allows anyone intrigued by the events to connect in a more physical sense with the history. In addition to information about battleground sites, it also lists other relevant locations and has been integrated with the Star-Spangled Banner National Historic Trail and Chesapeake Bay Gateways and Watertrails Network. Even professional historians well versed in the scholarly literature will find this book a convenient handbook on historical landmarks that survive, as well as a usefully concise narrative of the war’s effects on one localized region.
The history is related in a balanced fashion, covering with economy the war’s origins and larger consequences, the chronology of operations, and ways in which military clashes affected civilian populations engulfed in their wake. Reflecting the benefits of recent scholarship on African-American history, the book effectively weaves in the roles played by blacks, from escaped slaves who fought for the British as Colonial Marines to African-Americans who fought in defense of the republic. It deals fairly and honestly with internal American divisions over the wisdom of the war, and with the violence sometimes wrought against those opposed to open warfare with Great Britain. Both the triumphs and failures of American arms are covered.
Regarding American accusations that British forces engaged in war crimes during their seaborne raids against U.S. towns in the Chesapeake, the book strikes a prudent tone, portraying the British as anything but genteel yet not as dastardly as U.S. newspapers would have had the neutral observer believe. As Donald R. Hickey explains in his introduction:
British raiding parties in the Chesapeake usually adhered to the international rules of war—or at least how the raiders understood those rules. They paid cash for provisions and other supplies that they needed, although sometimes at grossly undervalued prices. They confiscated or destroyed whole fleets of ships and boats as well as any commodities or other property they found in warehouses. But more alarming, they burned unoccupied private homes or, if they met with resistance, whole towns.
For American readers of Naval History, who as a whole know more about the War of 1812 than most of their fellow citizens, In Full Glory Reflected may not contain much new information. But its charming illustrations—a mix of modern and historical images, including a fine collection of maps—and handy tourist guide should still be useful. At the very least, the book would be a fine gift to friends and family who are relative newcomers to this war, or even to the field of history. As an example, one well-done page (65) directly contrasts differing U.S. and British accounts of a single raid, thus providing a useful lesson in how historical sources can significantly differ depending on perspective. Overall, the narrative benefits from an appropriately thoughtful tone that renders history accessible to the average reader without sacrificing accuracy to vulgar sensationalism.
Many Were Held by the Sea: The Tragic Sinking of HMS Otranto
R. Neil Scott. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2012. 264 pp. Illus. Notes. $35.00.
Reviewed by Colonel John Abbatiello, U.S. Air Force (Retired)
Neil Scott’s monograph is a well-written and thoroughly researched account of one of the final naval disasters of World War I. On 6 October 1918, just over a month before the Great War’s armistice went into effect, two British vessels collided. They were carrying U.S. doughboys destined for the Western Front. The accident caused 470 fatalities, many of whom washed up on the shore of the Scottish island of Islay, west of Glasgow.
Scott, a professor and librarian at Middle Tennessee State University with a number of publications to his name, had a personal reason for writing this book. Two of his great-uncles were passengers on board the Otranto when she foundered off Scotland; one survived and the other perished. This personal connection does not seem to influence the storytelling: the main characters appear to be handled fairly, the prose is clear, and the narrative is complete in every way.
Both HMS Otranto and Kashmir were former Peninsular and Oriental steamers that the Royal Navy had converted as “armed merchant cruisers” at the war’s outbreak. The Otranto, as the author skillfully recounts, barely survived the British defeat at Coronel on 1 November 1914. She was serving as a cruiser in Admiral Christopher Cradock’s South Atlantic Squadron of elderly warships when German Vice Admiral Maximilian von Spee’s East Asia Squadron of modern cruisers met them off the coast of Chile. Only a desperate defense by two doomed British warships—HMS Monmouth and Good Hope—allowed the rest of the squadron to escape.
After years of convoy and patrol duty worldwide, late in September 1918 the Otranto found herself loading American soldiers in New York as part of departing troop convoy HX-50. As an armed merchant cruiser, she would lead a dozen troopships; their destination was Liverpool.
Most of the 700 U.S. soldiers on board the Otranto were artillerymen from Fort Screven, Georgia. The Kashmir embarked Iowa National Guardsmen and an African-American labor battalion, the latter also from Georgia. The Otranto retained a strong crew force of almost 400 men, including active and reserve Royal Navy sailors and Royal Marine personnel. Most of the troops suffered from seasickness, and an outbreak of influenza was slowly taking its toll on soldiers and sailors alike. As the convoy approached the northern coast of Ireland on the morning of 6 October, it encountered a strong storm with winds topping 70 mph and waves from 50 to 60 feet. The conditions were so poor that British destroyers assigned as escorts into coastal waters had to turn back.
Confusion over position led to the collision. The Otranto’s officer of the watch assumed they were just north of Ireland and ordered a turn to port, while the rest of the convoy correctly placed their position to the west of Islay and turned to starboard. This maneuvering placed the Otranto across the path of the Kashmir. Both crews attempted last-minute helm corrections, but simultaneous changes made the impact inevitable. The Kashmir’s bow cut through the port side of the Otranto at 0834 that stormy Sunday morning. The wound was so devastating that the latter’s bulkheads soon collapsed as she slowly took on water. Not permitted to stop to save survivors because of the U-boat threat, the convoy continued as the Kashmir limped away to eventually arrive at Glasgow under her own power.
Only superb seamanship by the Otranto’s captain Ernest Davidson and his crew kept the armed merchant cruiser afloat. About an hour after the collision, HMS Mounsey, a 900-ton British destroyer that had been part of the original escort force, arrived on the scene. Her captain, Royal Navy Lieutenant Francis Craven, ignored standing orders not to save crew members from sinking ships in U-boat-infested waters and positioned his ship alongside the Otranto. After taking on as many survivors as possible in such risky conditions, Craven sailed away to safety. For saving 600 souls, he would be awarded the Distinguished Service Order by Great Britain and the Distinguished Service Medal by the United States.
The Otranto later broke up on a reef three-quarters of a mile from the shore of Islay, where her remaining crew drowned. More than 200 bodies washed to the shore. Local police and citizenry soon faced the terrible task of recovering and burying the remains of the U.S. soldiers and British sailors who perished that day.
Much of Scott’s source material is from published works, but it is evident that he scoured the major archives in the United States and United Kingdom for primary documents. A number of photographs from his personal collection are included. Scott also provides an impressive set of appendices listing casualties and survivors. Many Were Held by the Sea is a grim reminder of the inherent danger of naval operations. It’s a worthwhile read.
The Devil’s Causeway: The True Story of America’s First POWs in the Philippines, and the Heroic Expedition Sent to Their Rescue
Matthew Westfall. Guilford, CT: Lyons Press, 2012. 434 pp. Illus. Maps. Notes. Bibliog. Index. $26.95.
Reviewed by Mark Felton
Sometimes described as “America’s Lost Empire,” the Philippines were the site of a mostly forgotten—yet fascinating—imperial adventure. Author Matthew Westfall, an American who has lived there for many years, weaves a narrative of dramatic expeditions with a cast of colorful, often deeply flawed characters.
The Devil’s Causeway isolates two threads of an extraordinary, almost incredible story of incompetence, courage, privation, determination, and ultimate salvation in 1899, shortly after the conclusion of the Spanish-American War. This conflict, and the war that followed between U.S. forces and Filipino revolutionaries, is often overlooked today, even though its impact on U.S. foreign policy and military adventurism resounds to the present.
From a populist and decisive victory over Spain, the postwar Philippines quickly descended into anarchy and insurrection. Westfall concentrates on recounting the tale of one particularly grim incident.
In April 1899, Admiral George Dewey dispatched the gunboat Yorktown on a mission to free defeated Spanish soldiers who had been held under siege by the Filipinos for weeks, deep in the Luzon jungle. A cutter carrying 15 men under the command of Lieutenant James Gillmore Jr. was detached and sent upriver on an armed reconnaissance. But Gillmore foolishly overreached, and his party was ambushed. The survivors became some of the first U.S. prisoners of war of the Philippine insurrection. Their captors were hardened and fanatical freedom fighters who treated them with great brutality, force-marching the ragged Americans from prison to prison over precipitous mountains and through dense, pestilential jungles. Gillmore and his men suffered disease, starvation, and ruthlessness, but the United States swiftly determined to rescue them.
The task of effecting the sailors’ rescue was given to the U.S. Army, which mounted an ad hoc mission sending more than 200 men deep into Luzon’s inhospitable interior. In itself this was a remarkable feat of endurance and bravery. These soldiers successfully rescued Gillmore and his men, only to face a 90-mile trek to the coast where U.S. Navy ships awaited them. The soldiers had to carry the sick and wounded without any food. They nearly became in need of rescue themselves, and it was only their immense resources of courage and determination that saved them.
Westfall has written the book like a thriller, remaining truthful throughout. With extremely strong and memorable characters, it is a very well-paced gem of historical narrative, with overtones of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. On the U.S. side, raw recruits and grizzled veterans of the Civil War and Indian Wars bloodbaths faced off against Filipino insurrectionists who were fanatical, resourceful, and often vicious.
Some unintentional problems stemmed from the rescue mission, which ultimately caused the war in the Philippines to drag on for another two years. This led to thousands of unnecessary deaths but also helped to shape America’s relationship with its most significant overseas conquest and gave impetus to the fledgling Filipino independence movement.
Westfall’s masterly use of description, particularly of the jungle and the rescuers penetrating ever deeper into its green hell, has the cinematic quality of Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now. Written from a wealth of original documentation including diaries, letters, and memoirs, and illustrated with strangely haunting period photographs, the book’s central narrative is well drawn, engagingly told, and thought-provoking. It is not just a story of the Philippines, but also one of how the United States came to be a global and colonial power, with all the good and bad such a move entailed. All this is encapsulated in The Devil’s Causeway.
Commander: The Life and Exploits of Britain’s Greatest Frigate Captain
Stephen Taylor. New York: Norton, 2012. 320 pp. Illus. Notes. Bibliog. Index. $27.95.
Reviewed by Captain Stanley D. M. Carpenter, U.S. Navy (Retired)
But for actor Robert Lindsay’s superb portrayal in the Hornblower television miniseries, few would have heard of Admiral Sir Edward Pellew, 1st Viscount Exmouth, GCB (1757–1833). Stephen Taylor’s biography provides a vivid and compelling story of arguably one of the greatest officers of the Royal Navy in the Age of Nelson. He rose through the ranks from ordinary seaman to admiral in a career marked by audacity, fearlessness, tactical brilliance, and enormous physical and moral courage; but was also marred by a tendency toward nepotism, overt loyalty to family, and a knack for generating personal rivalries with peers and superiors. Taylor characterizes Pellew as “the greatest frigate captain of the age of sail, an incomparable seaman, ferociously combative yet chivalrous, and with a gift for performing eye-catching feats.” He then proceeds to make a successful argument for that portrayal.
The author employs a variety of primary sources, particularly Pellew family papers and letters held at the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, London (Exmouth Papers), various Admiralty Papers (most notably ships’ logs), and documents and letters from friends, enemies, and contemporaries located at various archives. Finally, Taylor discovered in a barn on the former Pellew estate a treasure trove of material that had been collected by George Pellew for a never-published biography of his father.
From a Cornish seafaring family, Pellew began his service as a purser’s servant on board HMS Juno at age 12. Promoted to ordinary and able seaman, he became the master’s mate on the Alarm in what Taylor calls a “meteoric rise.” A midshipman at 18, he received the King’s Commission as Lieutenant Pellew on his return to England in 1778, based on his performance at the Battle of Valcour Island (11 October 1776), during the war for American independence. Pellew took command of his ship after the wounding of all the senior officers.
His first command, HMS Carleton, heralded the start of a lengthy list of extraordinary assignments, from small warships to frigates to ships-of-the-line and, finally, fleet command. Pellew’s greatest achievements were as commander of HMS Indefatigable and the Western Frigate Squadron (1794–99), during which he savaged French privateers, merchant commerce, and smaller warships in the English Channel and Bay of Biscay areas.
Named Baronet Pellew in 1796, Baron Exmouth of Canonteign in 1814, and rear-admiral in 1804, he was noted for his successful attack on Algiers as the Royal Navy attempted to punish and rein in Barbary Coast piracy and slave-trading. Additional assignments included commander-in-chief of the East Indies Station (1805–9), which proved a frustrating and difficult endeavor and also removed him from the more vibrant and critical Mediterranean and Atlantic theaters, and, commander-in-chief Mediterranean (1811–14, 1815–16).
He ended his career as commander-in-chief Plymouth from 1817 to 1821, primarily in an “admiral of the port” position rather than a seagoing command. In his later years, Viscount Exmouth sat in the House of Lords and enjoyed his family life, which had always been a critical aspect of his worldview.
Throughout his various posts, he was known as being deeply loyal and supportive of his crews and sparing of physical punishment, which was somewhat uncommon in that age. As a former able seaman, Pellew retained his ability and willingness to climb and work the rigging, much to his crews’ amazement. Tactically, he demonstrated brilliance, boldness, and the ability to win against overwhelming odds as both a frigate captain and fleet commander.
Taylor’s book displays two minor structural weaknesses, neither of which detracts from the overall impressive analysis of Pellew’s life and career. Too many quotes prove cumbersome, especially in the final chapters. For a historical examination, quotes should be used sparingly, with simply key words or phrases rather than extended “slab” quotes so as to not detract from the author’s perspective. For non-historians or those not familiar with the maritime/naval aspects of the wars of the French Revolution and Napoleonic wars, some contextual background would have been helpful. These are mild complaints, however. As a whole, the work is an impressive exploration of this talented and accomplished Royal Navy officer. Naval and maritime enthusiasts as well as scholars will find much to like about this biography of one of the least-known, yet seminally important among Royal Navy officers of the Age of Sail.