Book Reviews & Books of Interest

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During World War II, despite evidence that U.S. bombers were inflicting massive collateral damage on German cities, U.S. air commanders continu­ed the bombing campaign. In the Pacific, the incendiary raids on Japanese cities (here, Tokyo) that killed hundreds of thousands of civilians were deemed to be necessary. Can these decisions and the rationales behind them be morally justified?

Bombs, Cities, & Civilians: American Airpower Strategy in World War II

Conrad C. Crane. Lawrence, KS: University of Kansas Press, 1993. 164 pp. Append.

Bib. Ind. Notes. Photos. $29.95 ($26.95).

Reviewed by Lieutenant Commander Leo Mackay, Jr., U.S. Navy

With this book, Conrad C. Crane, an associate professor of military history at the U.S. Military Academy, enters the raging debate about the efficacy, effi­ciency, and morality of airpower. Crane

intends this entertaining and informative work to be a re­joinder to the many academic critics of airpower’s moral­ity. Unfortunately, he largely fails in his effort.

Both strains of pre-World War II bombing theory—the Royal Air Force (RAF) ntodel and the U.S. Army Air Force (USAAF) model— claimed a moral stance.

Rooted in the desire to avoid bloody stalemates like World War I’s Western Front, the RAF model was based on the writings of Italian airpower theorist Giulio Douhet. Douhet advocated—and the RAF ac­cepted—that the traditional distinction be­tween combatants and noncombatants be removed. He theorized that direct, im-

mediate, and terrible aerial assaults on civilians would swiftly destroy their will to fight and, thus, force their political leaders to surrender. Casualties would be suffered disproportionately by civilians; however, the war would be foreshortened and fewer lives lost. Because fewer peo­ple would be killed overall—their abili­ties for self-defense notwithstanding— this policy was more moral.

The USAAF model was developed during the 1920s and 1930s by instruc­tors at the Air Corps Tactical School. Fearful of international opprobrium and mindful of the American people’s moral sensibilities, they rejected the Douhet- ian theory for one premised on attack­ing the “critical points” in an enemy’s military-industrial system. These attacks would deprive an enemy’s war engine of its “lubrication”; therefore, it would seize and the war would end quickly. Because the U.S. model considered only those civilians directly engaged in critical war industries as legitimate targets and “pro­tected” others by explicitly not targeting them, it was in accordance with the tra­ditional concept of just war.

As the bulk of Crane’s own evidence bears out, however, in practice, the con­fluence of the urban location of industry, abysmal “precision” in the attack, the om­nipresent seduction of a “grand blow” that would shock the enemy into capitulation,

PHOTOS U.S. AIR FORCE

and the perceived political necessity to prove airpower’s viability (in order to jus­tify an independent air force) conspired to make the U.S. effort largely similar, in moral terms, to its British counterpart. In­deed, as Crane notes, some have described

the difference as “moral hair splitting.”

Foremost in blurring the theoretical distinctions was the glaring lack of pre­cision in USAAF bombing. In the first half of 1943, the Eighth Air Force put only 14% of its bombs within 1,000 feet of their target. By 1945, after a massive technological effort, that number had been boosted to 44%.

The U.S. air commanders reacted to this problem as the pragmatic realists that by and large they were. The mass of at­tacks was increased in order to ensure that the number of bombs that hit the tar­get would be sufficient to destroy it. Em­bedded in this solution was an implicit moral dilemma: Because the bulk of bombs still would not be on target, the toll taken by “collateral damage” would increase. To justify this decision morally, the case must be made that the air of­fensive’s marginal contribution was suf­ficiently increased to offset the height­ened carnage among civilians. It is a standard quite distant from the traditional ethical injunction against targeting of noncombatants—a proscription embat­tled since Napoleon’s times, but still at­tractive for its simple elegance and moral clarity. However, even by the more lax comparative standards the theorists set for themselves, only with great difficulty can this decision be deemed moral.

Against this indictment, Crane labors mightily. His basic argument is that the academic treatments of U.S. airpower’s history—foremost among them Michael Sherry’s The Rise of American Airpower (Yale University Press, 1987) and Ronald Schaffer’s Wings of Judgment: American Bombing in World War II (Oxford Uni­versity Press, 1985)—have lacked the “man-in-the-arena” perspective of the air commanders. Crane strives to bring an appreciation of their predicament—con­strained by operational necessities and technological limits—to the moral analy­sis of airpower’s history. His stated in­tention is to explain a slide to total war so complete and irresistible that by the time the atomic bomb appeared, the only argument was over how—not whether— to use it. As Crane explains it, in light of the political and military demands to end the war quickly and decisively, the action of the U.S. air commanders is understandable.

Crane makes artful use of evidence to bolster his case. He is careful to re­count the widespread approval that the U.S. public gave to bombing. Opinion polls showed that, late in the war, even urban bombing was favored by a major­ity of Americans. The prevailing opinion was that war is terrible but necessary, and the greatest kindness would be its swift and favorable outcome. This “imperative of victory” perspective is the most sym­pathetic one from which to view strate­gic bombardment, but it is not a moral case. Moral judgments are based on con­sistent frameworks of principles and the degree to which practice conforms to those precepts. Popularity can never ex­cuse moral laxity.

Crane gives great weight to the ratio­nales offered up by the notable U.S. air leaders of the war. General H. H. Arnold’s overwhelming concern was to justify an independent air force. Gener­als Ira Eaker and Carl Spaatz truly be­lieved in precision bombing. General Spaatz also was genuinely concerned about the ethical ramifications of terror bombing—to the point of risking dis­obedience to orders by avoiding tactics designed expressly to target civilians. Alone among the air leaders, General Curtis LeMay was a supreme pragmatist who gave little thought to ethical or moral considerations in his single-minded drive to produce victory from the air. However, as the book makes clear, despite their reservations, all of these men were very much aware of the damage they were in­flicting—and its questionable effect on the course of the war.

Most interestingly, Crane takes great pains to draw differences between the Eu­ropean and Pacific theaters. He sees in the relative restraint of the USAAF in Eu­rope the seeds of a coherent morality. He is at his best explaining the lengths to which the USAAF went to make aerial bombardment more accurate—e.g., radar, advanced optical bombsights, and radio and even television guidance. Although this effort says much about the USAAF’s commitment to precision bombing, alone it is insufficient to establish the moral­ity of the U.S. campaign because it was plain to the USAAF’s leaders that these fixes failed to reduce meaningfully col­lateral damage. As Crane dryly observes, “in the European . . . theater, [they] had come to accept more risks for noncom­batants by 1945.”

In any event, because of the RAF’s area bombing—“to hurl the bomber at the man in the street”—the USAAF could in­dulge its precision theory in Europe with­out seeming to impede the war effort. A fairer test of U.S. predilection for preci­sion at all costs, therefore, was to come in the Pacific theater. Japan was a perfect target for the kind of war by aerial terror that Douhet had envisaged. Japanese in­dustry was concentrated in urban areas, but it was widely dispersed in an “indus­trial carpet" with the assembly of subunits being done in house-factories. By 1944, it was obvious that the classic USAAF idea of destroying critical industrial cen­ters wouldn’t work against Japan.

As 1945 began, Curtis LeMay took command of the air effort against Japan. He lost little time in deducing the most effective means of destroying Japanese industry: incendiary raids. He was unswerving in his moral calculus:

We were going after military tar­gets. ... Of course there is a pretty thin veneer in Japan. ... It was their system of dispersal of industry. . . • The entire population got into the act. . . . We knew we were going to kill a lot of women and kids when we burned that town. Had to be done.

Strangely, however, Crane fails to note the basic similarity in rationale and re­sult of the air campaigns in Europe and Japan. In Europe, the USAAF’s contri­bution to the carnage was largely masked by the RAF’s unabashed policy of “city- busting,” but in sum there is a singular point of similitude: deliberate destruction of urban areas resulting in massive civil­ian casualties—a trenchant similarity in the very moral sphere in which the au­thor claims to work.

Crane compounds this error by com­mitting the even greater conceptual mis­take of attempting to trace strategic bombing through the postwar conflicts. He has two main problems here: first, his treatment is so abbreviated as to dis­credit his analysis; secondly—and much more seriously—the real trail of the ten­sion between strategic bombing and morality lies not in the history of the post­war conflicts, but in U.S. planning for nu­clear war. Recall that Curtis LeMay goes on to head the Strategic Air Command (SAC).

Crane expends a scant 15 pages on three wars: Korea, Vietnam, and the Per­sian Gulf War. The trouble with using these limited conflicts to judge airpower theory is that the theories themselves are not amenable to limited interpretations. Indeed, the very inflexibility of the theo­ries is one of their greatest shortcomings- Without vital industries to attack in the Korean and Vietnam Wars, the Air Force bombed dams, agricultural assets, harbors, and transportation infrastructure—with lit­tle effect. The final verdict on Persian Gulf air operations is far from in, but. aside from horatory paeans like Richard Hallion’s Storm Over Iraq: Air Power and the Gulf War (Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992), it appears that airpower was not as decisive as first believed.

SAC’s nuclear war plans—particularly of the 1950s and early 1960s when strate­gic bombardment held sway—are the

clear lineal descendants of wartime bomb­ing. By the mid-1950s, the marriage of the ultimate weapon, the incorrigible foe, and the unalloyed drive of Curtis LeMay, among others, produced a war plan to­tally given over to the single, massive, coordinated, indivisible, and quintessen­tially destructive stroke of the Single Integrated Operational Plan. It was the ultimate expression of Douhetian theory, and the nadir of attempts to construct a moral airpower doctrine. To complete the whole story of U.S. strategic airpower theory, this is the path the author should have trod. As it is, the book would have been stronger without the section on lim­ited wars.

Despite a glaring conceptual lapse, Crane has succeeded in producing an intelligently crafted and reasonably writ­ten book that is replete with technical de­tail. Bombs, Cities, & Civilians will not square the moral ledger in favor of the air commanders, but it is a noble effort to do so from the only perspective that offers moral solace to them. Still, one Wonders how Crane maintains the thesis he proclaims in light of the overwhelm­ing evidence to the contrary; evidence that he himself compiles.

Thunder Below!: The USS Barb Revolutionizes Submarine Warfare in World War II

RADM Eugene B. Fluckey, USN (Ret.). Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press, 1992. 423 pp. Append. Illus. Ind. Photos. $29.95 ($26.95).

Reviewed by Captain John L. Byron,

U.S. Navy (Retired)

Rear Admiral Gene Fluckey writes a straightforward chronicle of his five pa­trols as captain of the USS Barb (SS-220) in the closing months of World War II. Thunder Below! is well worth the time of history buffs, action junkies, and current submarine officers, who will find much to learn from this master. His tale offers an action-packed yarn of great adventure On and beneath the seas with special in­sight into the mind of an aggressive man- of-warsman. Admiral Fluckey was a fighter—not a hider—and the strong mes­sage in his book for today’s submariners is the value of one man’s brilliant inno­vation and rule-breaking.

The U.S. Navy’s submarine force en­tered the war ill-prepared. Prewar train­ing prized performance in set-piece sce­

narios—the honing of stage skills. This culture bred a generation of timid and careful skippers that had to be weeded out before U.S. submarines could contribute to winning the war. Admiral Fluckey is one of the many splendid wardroom of­ficers who came forward to command after the deadwood was cleared.

The late Admiral Hyman G. Rickover gave me an insight into another pertinent aspect of the prewar submarine force; one that fits well with the pattern of nonper­formance by the initial skippers. He told me the reason why he had left the sub­marine force after his executive-offi­cer’s tour: “Every skipper I knew was a lush.” I bounced this revelation off a wartime submariner. His fascinating re-

T. WILBUR

action: “Naw, he’s wrong. They weren't all drunks.”

Admiral Fluckey’s association with the Barb begins in early 1944 when he rides along as prospective commanding officer on her seventh patrol. Not unlike her pre­ceding patrols, it is a lackluster effort. Then he takes over.

►  The eighth patrol is in the Sea of Okhotsk. There, Admiral Fluckey sinks five ships. He fires all torpedoes. He re­ceives the Navy Cross.

>• The ninth patrol is in the South China Sea. Again, he sinks five ships—includ­ing the aircraft carrier HUMS Unyo. He fires all torpedoes. He is awarded the Navy Cross.

►  The tenth patrol is conducted between Korea and Japan in the East China Sea. He fires all torpedoes, sinks three ships, and receives the Navy Cross.

►  The eleventh patrol is along the coast of China in the East China Sea. Admiral Fluckey sinks seven ships. Then, in an in­credibly daring nocturnal surface raid in the shallow waters of Namkwan Harbor, he sinks at least five more, escaping pur­suit by dashing through uncharted, rock- strewn waters in the dark. He fires all tor­pedoes. Admiral Fluckey is awarded the Medal of Honor.

> For her twelfth patrol, the Barb returns to the Sea of Okhotsk. Admiral Fluckey sinks four ships and conducts seven suc­cessful shore bombardments—three with cannon and four with rockets (their first use ever by a submarine, a Fluckey ini­tiative). He destroys three luggers, two trawlers, and 69 sampans with gunfire and sinks one trawler by ramming. Wait—there’s more: He blows up a lo­comotive with 16 cars. As usual, he fires all torpedoes. He is awarded a fourth Navy Cross.

The Navy’s current submariners should heed the many lessons present­ed in Thunder Below!—Rear Admiral Eugene Fluckey’s memoirs of his World War II patrols in the USS Barb (SS-220).

Fluckey’s wisdom for the current crop of U.S. submariners is powerful. Every­thing he did as captain was on the edge; it pushed the envelope, defying training and conventional wisdom. Our Navy— and the submarine force as part of it— has become so jittery about risk-taking, so insistent on documented perfect per­formance, so dependent on inspections to define success that I can’t predict that anyone will heed Fluckey’s lessons. Nev- ervertheless, here they are:

>• Ordnance on target is what matters. Learn to shoot your weapons with greater skill than you have at boiling water.

► You’re in the game of risk manage­ment, not risk avoidance.

►  Learn to fight in shallow water.

►  Learn to fight hurt.

►  Use every sensor.

►  Intelligence will help you to under­standing your environment—it won’t fight your war.

>■ Trust, training, and mutual interdepen­dence define your relationship with your crew.

►  If you do something great at sea, splice the main brace!

The message is loud and clear: in war, only victory counts, and the conventional wisdom—even when it is wise—can but guide the skipper, not command him. The great contribution that Thunder Below! makes to the literature of the sea is its in­sight into the mind of a magnificent cap­tain. It’s a quirky place; there’s much ego there and a few demons. Admiral Fluckey gives those who would command war­ships a free look at this special world.

A tiny caution: I found one aspect of this otherwise superb book a bit jangling.

I blame the editing, not the author, but the discerning reader may be troubled by the “reconstructed” conversations that carry the story forward. This they do, but with stilted speech that never came from the lips of real sailors. Or the real Fluckey, for that matter. Lengthy ex­cerpts of his writings in Theodore Roscoe’s United States Submarine Op­erations in World War II (Naval Insti­tute Press, 1949) show that the admiral’s pen can be more facile with less help from an editor.

For the author, three complaints. First, it’s okay to tell us once that a sailor’s diary drawn on in the story should not have been kept under wartime rules. But the statute of limitations has expired— don’t say it’s “illegal” seven times. Sec­ond, missing from this yam is the back­ground that would help us understand why the author possessed such great com­bat skills and became the warrior he did. How was he raised? Who taught him? Where did he find his lessons? A bio­graphical chapter would help the reader understand these formative elements, which are still quite relevant. Third, the fast-paced story passes rather lightly over the challenging and demanding skills and work needed to keep a submarine run­ning—especially a battle-damaged diesel boat. While this may be a good choice to keep the book’s focus tight, non-sub-', mariners will gain no insight into the ex­traordinary effort needed to keep the boat fighting and bring her back alive after each patrol.

Quibbles aside, though, this book is top-notch. We have surprisingly few books by submarine aces. Of course, many of the wartime captains did not live to tell of their exploits. Moreover, since the war, there existed a cloak of secrecy over U.S. submarine operations. There­fore, submarine narrative has been car­ried forward only in fiction—and that written by an insurance salesman. The Cold War submarine force has tales as grand and heroes as noble as in Thunder Below!, but its stories must wait for a later day. For now, read this and antici­pate what more you may learn of sub­marine adventures in the future.

A submarine officer, Captain Byron just retired after 37 years of active duty.

To the Gates of Richmond:

The Peninsula Campaign

Stephen W. Sears. New York: Ticknor & Fields, 1992. Append. Bib. Ind. Maps. Notes. Photos. $24.95 ($22.00).

Reviewed by Michael Andrus

To the Gates of Richmond offers a detailed, documented narrative of the 1862 Peninsula Campaign. Those who enjoyed Sears’s previous work on the Antietam campaign. Landscape Turned Red (Ticknor & Fields, 1983), will find a familiar style that includes extensive use of manuscript material and partici­pants’ accounts. The narrative is excel­lent; Sears handles the complicated move­ments and series of battles with grace. His style is extremely readable, making To the Gates of Richmond a highly en­joyable work.

This book is only the second modem study of the Peninsula Campaign. It pays particular attention to the Union effort. This is quite understandable given Sears’s extensive work on the commander of the Army of the Potomac, General George B. McClellan. Because the other recent work—Clifford Dowdey’s The Seven Days: The Emergence of Lee (Univer­sity of Nebraska Press, 1993)—is focused on Robert E. Lee and written mainly from the Confederate perspective, it could serve as a companion volume to Sears’s book. However, in many ways, Sears’s study is technically superior to Dowdey’s. There are extensive endnotes and an larger bib­liography; the inclusion of orders of bat­tle for Yorktown, Seven Pines, and the Seven Days is very helpful.

The book’s 16 campaign maps are simple and uncomplicated. They serve well those wishing for the big picture, but may disappoint those seeking greater detail on individual battles. Unfortunately, a variety of errors detract somewhat from these maps. For example, on the map of the Battle of Mechanicsville, the Catlin

House should be located just west of the road crossing Beaver Dam Creek at Eller- son’s Mill. On the Gaines’s Mill map, what is commonly referred to as Cold Harbor Road is labeled the Telegraph Road. On the map of the Malvern Hill battle, the Parsonage—where D. H. Hill’s division of the Army of Northern Vir­ginia formed for its attack—should be lo­cated south of where Western Run crosses the Quaker Road. Admittedly, these are minor errors but suggest that Sears either did not visit the battlefields he writes about or did not contact local historians for assistance.

The concerns with the maps aside, the author’s analysis of personnel and de­cisionmaking stands out as the study’s most controversial aspect. Sears has never been a fan of General McClellan; there­fore, it is not surprising that he is ex­tremely critical of McClellan’s perfor­mance throughout the campaign. In describing his conduct at the Battle of Glendale on 30 June 1862, Sears suggests that McClellan lost his courage to com­mand; that his demoralization was com­plete, and, to avoid command, “he de­liberately fled the battlefield.”

Nevertheless, the harsh references to General Fitz John Porter, the commander of McClellan’s V Corps, are most un­conventional. According to Sears, Gen­eral Porter “passively allowed events to shape his course in precisely the same way his chief did.” He goes on to sug­gest that a more aggressive general would have called for reinforcements and gone on the offensive. Sears also believes that Porter covered up his own failings at the Battle of Gaines’s Mill on 27 June 1862 in his official report. Finally, Sears criticizes Porter by saying he fought “only in the hope of not losing” and that only darkness and two brigades from II Corps saved Porter’s command. This interpre­tation belies the historical record. Gen­eral Porter directed a stubborn resistance against a superior foe. He performed far better and deserves better treatment than what is presented here.

Those wishing to understand the Peninsula Campaign need to read and study this work. No doubt, many will draw different conclusions about certain events—in some cases disagreeing with the author’s analysis. But this is not nec­essarily a weakness. Provoking the reader to rethink long-held beliefs is a healthy exercise and To the Gates of Richmond will provide readers with a serious work­out.

Mr. Andrus is a staff historian at the Rich­mond National Battlefield Park.

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Books of Interest

By Lieutenant Commander Thomas Cutler, U.S. Navy (Retired)

& Broken Wings of the Samurai: The Destruction of the Japanese Air Force

Robert Mikesh. Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1993. 200 pp. Bib. Ind. Photos. $34.95 ($27.96).

At the end of the war with Japan, occupying U.S. forces found thousands of aircraft that had been converted, or were waiting to be con­verted, into kamikazes. Failing to realize their

historical potential, Allied forces destroyed the majority of these aircraft. Robert Mikesh—for­mer senior curator of the National Air and Space Museum and author of Japanese Air­craft, 1910-1941 (Naval Institute Press, 1990)—reassembles this air armada through Words and pictures, providing a revealing and frustrating glimpse of the historical treasures that were lost by the massive postwar destruc­tion. A final chapter focuses upon the aircraft that survived and can be seen today in air mu­seums around the world.

Lighthouses of Cape Cod—Martha’s Vineyard—Nantucket: Their History and Lore

Admont G. Clark. East Orleans, MA: Parnassus Imprints, 1992. 250 pp. Append. Bib. Figs. Illus. Ind. Maps. Photos. $29.95 ($26.95).

The coast of Massachusetts—especially Cape Cod—has long been a perilous place for mariners. Gales drive ships into the dreaded “lee shore”—areas where rocks and shifting shoals are the rule. Man’s early answer to this natural challenge was the establishment of a chain of lighthouses. The history of these life­saving beacons—many of which are still ac­tive—on Cape Cod, Nantucket, and Martha’s Vineyard is told in this well-researched and highly readable book that is rich with techni­cal information. It is a story of seafaring and shipwrecks, the navigational art, the prerequi­site courage of the mariner, and the dedicated service of the lighthouse keepers.

Dean Acheson: The Cold War Years, 1953-71

Douglas Brinkley. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1992. 512 pp. Bib. Ind. Notes. Photos. $35.00 ($31.50).

Dean Acheson is probably best remembered for his service as Secretary of State during the Truman administration—when he helped craft the policy of containment and forge NATO. However, from 1953 to his death in 1971, Dean Acheson remained in public life. He served as an influential foreign-policy ad­viser to the Democratic Party and Democra­tic presidents with what John F. Kennedy described as an “intimidating seniority” (al­though he became an adviser to his erstwhile critic Richard Nixon) and was an author of many superb books, most notably Present at the Creation: My Years in the State Depart­ment. Following Acheson’s career, the reader has a front-row seat as U.S. foreign policy moves from the creation of the bipartisan Cold War consensus to the divisions created by the Vietnam War and the social upheavals of the 1960s.

The Wars of America

Robert Leckie. New York: Harper Perennial,

1993. 2 vol. 1300 pp. Bib. Ind. Maps. Notes. $16.00/vol. ($14.40) Paper.

Mr. Leckie, the author of many acclaimed books on military history and a Marine veteran of World War II, details the conflicts of the United States in a work the Los Angeles Times describes as “thorough, objective, and com­pelling.” Besides the major wars, Leckie has included the lesser known struggles, such as the Colonial Wars, Indian Wars, and the Philip­pine Insurrection. Also included are the more recent conflicts in Grenada, Panama, and the Persian Gulf—as well as the terrorist challenge and the end of the Cold War.

Beken of Cowes: Ocean Liners

Philip J. Fricker. Boston: Reed’s Nautical Books, 1992. 320 pp. Append. Bib. Ind. Photos. $60.00 ($57.00).

Three generations of the Beken family of Cowes, England, have produced some of the world’s foremost marine photography. In this collection of 150 black-and-white and color photos, more than a century of international maritime history is recorded in the form of ocean liners, troopships, and cruise ships. Each photograph is accompanied by a concise text and list of the ship’s specifications.

The Red Horseman

Stephen Coonts. New York: Pocket Books, 1993. 352 pp. $23.00 ($20.70).

Introducing a frightening and yet devilishly clever new method of assassination known as “binary poisoning,” Coonts—the author of Flight of the Intruder (Naval Institute Press, 1986)—has come up with a new, suspense- filled scenario for his heroes Jake Grafton, Toad Tarkington, and Rita Moravia. This novel deals with the problem that few care to think about but is in the back of most intelligent minds: “What will become of the thousands of nuclear weapons that once belonged to the Soviet Union?” Coonts’s answer takes the reader on a whirlwind tour around the world with stops in the Pentagon, the headquarters of the CIA and DIA, the halls of government in Moscow, and a military bunker in Iraq.

Who Will Fight the Next War?: The Changing Face of the American Military

Martin Binkin. Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution, 1993. 190 pp. Figs. Ind. Notes. Tables. $31.95 ($28.75) Hardcover. $12.95 ($11.65) Paper.

During the Persian Gulf War, the deployment of large numbers of minorities and women— and the reliance upon a large proportion of Na­tional Guardsmen and reservists—prompted important questions about the all-volunteer force. Binkin addresses these issues head-on in a challenging and analytical study which calls for the resolution of some difficult prob­lems before the next war.

Naval Power in the Pacific: Toward the Year 2000

Hugh Smith & Anthony Bergin, Editors. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1993. 196 pp.

Figs. Gloss. Ind. Notes. Tables. $35.00 ($33.25).

With essays by some of the top naval strate­gists of our day, this book addresses the eco­nomic, technological, military, legal, and re­gional aspects of naval power in the Pacific. “Navies in Future Conflicts” by Eric Grove, “Naval Aviation for Pacific Navies” by Nor­man Friedman, and “The Functions of Navies in the Southwest Pacific and Southeast Asia” by Commodore Sam Bateman, Royal Aus­tralian Navy, are just 3 of the 11 thought- provoking essays in this collection.

Alone: The Man Who Braved the Vast Pacific—and Won

Gerard d’Aboville. New York: Arcade Publishing, 1993. 181 pp. Photos. $21.45 ($19.30).

Rowing 10 to 12 hours a day, capsizing more than 30 times, and losing 37 pounds, Gerard d’Aboville travelled 6,200 miles across the Pa­cific Ocean in a 26-foot boat. He was 46 years old when he began this unlikely odyssey that

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presented him with the myriad challenges of nature and a loneliness that can only be imag­ined. “I have chosen the ocean as my field of confrontation, my field of battle,” writes d’Aboville, “because the ocean is reality at its toughest, its most demanding.”

United States Naval Forces in Desert Shield and Desert Storm:

A Select Bibliography

Cdr. R. A. Brown, USN, and Dr. Robert J. Schneller. Washington, DC: Naval Historical Center, 1993. 52 pp. Bib. Free. Paper.

This annotated bibliography contains more than 500 entries dealing with the role of the

Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard in the Gulf War. Videos are included as well as books and articles, and, because new materi­als on this recent war are still appearing, the compilers warn that “this bibliography should be considered a first cut, not the last word.” The cited articles are those appearing primar­ily in scholarly and defense journals; articles from newspapers and popular magazines have been omitted. All of the entries may be found in the Navy Department Library or the Library of Congress.

U.S. Marine Corps in the Persian Gulf: With the 1st Marine Division in Desert Shield and Desert Storm

Lt. Col. Charles H. Cureton, USMCR.

Washington, DC: U.S. Marine Corps History and Museums Division, 1993. 161 pp. Append. Illus. Ind. Maps. Notes. Photos. $14.00 ($13.30) Paper.

One of a continuing series of monographs pro­duced by the Marine Corps’ History & Mu­seums Division, this volume recounts the ex­periences of the 1st Marine Division—which arrived in Saudi Arabia in August 1990 and remained through the end of the war several months later—during the Persian Gulf War. Tanks, artillery, infantry, and aircraft all fight in this volume, and Cureton’s carefully writ­ten account brings it all to life.

The Military and the Media: Why the Press Cannot be Trusted to Cover a War

William V. Kennedy. Westport, CT: Praeger,

1993. 180 pp. Bib. Ind. Notes. $45.00 ($42.75).

This thought-provoking book is not a press­bashing polemic—instead it is a constructive call for reform. Arguing that unless the U.S. news media modernize their basic modus operandi of covering defense issues, the U.S.

military will be forced to impose controls on journalists covering combat—something that is healthy to neither the press nor the military. In a democratic society a symbiosis between these two elements is essential, and Kennedy takes an important step in opening the neces­sary dialogue.

How Great Generals Win

Bevin Alexander. New York: W.W. Norton, 1993. 320 pp. Bib. Ind. Maps. Notes. Photos. $25.00 ($22.50).

Called “essential reading for students of mil­itary strategy and tactics” by Publishers Weekly, Alexander studies the methods of Han­nibal, Scipio Africanus, Genghis Khan, Napoleon Bonaparte, Thomas J. “Stonewall" Jackson, William T. Sherman, T. E. Lawrence (of Arabia), Sir Edmund Allenby, Mao Ze­dong, Heinz Guderian, Erich Von Manstein, Erwin Rommel, and Douglas MacArthur.

Fort Kamehameha: The Story of the Harbor Defenses of Pearl Harbor

William H. Dorrance. Shippensburg, PA: White Mane Publishing Co., 1993. Append. Bib. Illus.

Ind. Maps. Notes. Photos. $22.50 ($21.37).

One of the many fortifications that once pro­tected the U.S. coastline, “Fort Kam” was un­usual among them in that it used every coast- artillery weapon—including mines, the 12-inch “disappearing gun,” and 16-inch naval rifles—that was ever in the 20th century U.S. inventory. However, this is not a strictly tech­nical history. The author takes the reader through the development of the Army’s coastal-defense doctrine and the building of the fort and, along the way, provides detailed descriptions of on- and off-duty life in the Coast Artillery and the Old Army.

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