Breakout: The Chosin Reservoir Campaign, Korea, 1950
Martin Russ. New York: Fromm International, 1999. 542 pp. Photos. Maps. Bib. Index. $27.50 ($24.75).
Reviewed by Colonel Allan R. Millett, U.S. Marine Corps Reserve (Retired)
Norse boys have Beowulf, French boys Le Chanson de Roland, and Marines the story of the Chosin Reservoir campaign. We never tire of the retelling because the epic "attack in another direction" by the 1st Marine Division in November-December 1950 tells us who we are and what the nation should expect of Marines when the battle rages on into its darkest hour. As a Chosin Reservoir campaign book, Martin Russ's Breakout falls in the middle ground between a general campaign history and a narrative of the personal experiences of the Marines who made "the walk out" as members of the "Chosin Few." Breakout ranks with Robert Leckie's March to Glory (1960) as the book Marines are most likely to read for inspiration since it is based on sound, compelling interviews with a good cross-section of the survivors—ranging from Generals O. P. Smith, Raymond G. Davis, and Robert H. Barrow to some very tough and articulate former PFCs and corpsmen.
The strength of Breakout is Russ's keen ear for Marine talk and Marine values. A Korean War veteran of the 1st Marine Division and the author of the classic The Last Parallel (1957), Russ knows how to let the Marines tell their own stories, which are astounding, moving, and often sad. Russ probably comes as close as anyone ever will in reconstructing the spiritual and physical mood of the campaign. He also knows the essentials of weapons use, first aid, tactics, cold weather survival, and leadership as only a veteran combat Marine can appreciate them. He also is refreshingly frank about cowardice and combat mistakes. Russ is far harder on the U.S. Army's performance in the campaign, but he is almost always right about the manic behavior and fey judgment of Major General Edward M. Almond, the X Corps commander, and the feckless combat performance of almost every Army unit with which the 1st Marine Division shared its ordeal. Russ also shows unusual empathy for the occasional Korean and Chinese who appear in the story. For anyone who lacks a grasp of the Korean perspective, the chapter on Lieutenant Yi Jong Yun should be required reading.
Where Russ is weakest is his treatment of the Chinese side of the campaign, which may be found in great detail in several books in Chinese, available in the West for translation. Russ misidentifies the "armies" (actually corps of three divisions each) of the Renmin Zhiyuanjun (Chinese People's Volunteer Forces) that attacked X Corps. Although the 42nd Army made the initial contact in November with its 124th Division, the major effort to annihilate the 1st Marine Division and part of the 7th Infantry Division came from the 9th Army Group with its 20th, 26th, and 27th Armies. Russ also does not use—or at least cite—the most recent research on General Almond and the X Corps, except for using Roy Appleman's apologetics. Another weakness of Breakout is the relative lack of attention given to the Marine air units involved in the campaign.
Whatever Breakout's shortcomings as a comprehensive campaign history, the book is a rousing and deserved tribute to the 1st Marine Division and its epic anabasis. I do not know what kind of troops Xenophon had, but I've known many of the "Chosin Few," and no finer men have ever claimed the title of U.S. Marine. If you don't believe this, read Breakout.
A Better War: The Unexamined Victories and Final Tragedy of America's Last Years in Vietnam
Lewis Sorley. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1999. 528 pp. Photos. Notes. Bib. Index. $28.00 ($25.20).
Reviewed by Lieutenant General John H. Cushman, U.S. Army (Retired)
In this book, the respected military biographer Lewis Sorley addresses the Vietnam War's neglected second half: from Tet in 1968 to the withdrawal of U.S. forces in 1973 and Saigon's fall in 1975. Authors like George Herring, Stanley Karnow, and Neil Sheehan have barely treated the Vietnam of this time. Focusing on the insights and methods of General Creighton W. Abrams, who for four bitter years of this period was in command in Vietnam, Sorley gives us a gripping case study in leadership and makes a major contribution to our understanding of that war.
From his post as Vice Chief of Staff of the Army, Abrams went to Vietnam in mid-1967 to serve as deputy to General William C. Westmoreland. Never understanding the war's nature, Westmoreland masterminded a five-year war of escalation and attrition. A year after arriving in Vietnam, Abrams assumed command from his West Point classmate and brought new energy, new thrusts, and a new and long overdue outlook.
Sorley's story is based largely on taped recordings of key meetings in Abrams' headquarters from throughout his time in command. Among the most illuminating are records of the weekly intelligence estimate update (WIEU) meetings held each Saturday morning by Abrams and his staff. They gathered to hear the command's intelligence officer present the current situation and engage in wide-ranging discussions. Once a month, field commanders would attend for a "commanders WIEU." (As Abrams' subordinate responsible for the Delta advisory/assistance effort in 1971, it was my pleasure to sit in on these monthly meetings.)
Abrams, who had been a tank officer in World War II, developed a profound appreciation for the many-faceted character of the war in Vietnam. To him, it was "one war." At one session with Admiral John S. McCain, Jr., Commander-in-Chief, Pacific, Abrams said that "the one war concept puts equal emphasis on military operations, improvements of the RVNAF [Republic of Vietnam Armed Forces] and pacification—all of which are interrelated so that the better we do in one, the more our chance of progress in all the others."
Sorley writes that Abrams changed fundamentally how U.S. forces approached operations—i.e., instead of a small number of operations by large units, operations began to feature a larger area of coverage by widely deployed and more agile units. With the support of his valued partner, U.S. Ambassador Ellsworth Bunker, Abrams worked through Vietnamese President Nguyen Van Thieu and the U.S. advisor chain on improving the strength, leadership, and morale of Vietnamese units from divisions down through the irregular forces at the village level.
The Abrams "one war" concept focused on achieving the essential heart of pacification—the security of the population in the countryside. The fighting during Tet had staggered the pacification effort undertaken by Westmoreland's deputy, Robert Komer, in 1967. Replacing the mercurial Komer with the steady and methodical William Colby, Abrams adopted Colby's plan for an accelerated pacification campaign (APC). Launched in November 1968, the APC combined an attack on the pervasive Viet Cong infrastructure with an expansion of the regional and popular forces and hamlet militia. The three-month blitz exceeded all expectations. It picked up steam in 1969, and in 1970 it was possible to conclude that under the "one war" concept the battle for Vietnam's countryside was being won.
In the United States, however, little of this was being reported. After years of an attrition strategy with no end in sight, Americans had grown tired of the war. While the North Vietnamese were increasing their efforts in the South, President Nixon began withdrawing U.S. troops and reducing air assets in country. In 1970, he authorized General Abrams to attack into Cambodia to eliminate the NVA (North Vietnam Army) sanctuaries along Vietnam's borders; North Vietnam then redoubled its efforts at infiltration through Laos.
Sorley traces Abrams' remaining two years of continued drawdown: the ineffectual bombing of infiltration routes in Laos; the 1971 drive into Laos by South Vietnamese forces; and finally, the massive Easter Offensive in 1972. On 24 June 1972, General Abrams, nominated to become Army Chief of Staff, held his last WIEU. When he left Vietnam the following week, U.S. troop strength was 49,000. Six months later, the peace accords were signed in Paris. The South Vietnamese were left on their own, with promises of U.S. air and logistics support. But they were only promises; two years later, the war was over.
Sorley's book gives us, through General Abrams' own words, the authentic wisdom, abiding humility, and indomitable will of one of our greatest soldiers—who truly deserved a "better war."
Rolling Thunder: Jet Combat from World War II to the Gulf War
Ivan Rendall. New York: The Free Press, 1999. 336 pp. Photos. Bib. Index. $26.00 ($23.40).
Reviewed by Lieutenant Commander Richard R. Burgess, U.S. Navy (Retired)
Rolling Thunder is unusual in that it is a conventional narrative about a subject that has long been the realm of specialized "buff ' books, monographs, and magazines: jet fighter aerial combat. Ivan Rendall, a Royal Air Force veteran turned television producer, gives a sweeping look at aerial combat—beginning with the jarring Allied encounters with Germany's Me262 Schwalbe and other revolutionary jets, to the grand slam by F-15 Eagles over Iraq during Operation Desert Storm. In between, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the various ArabIsraeli conflicts, and the Falklands campaign are covered in appropriate depth.
Some topics of absorbing interest such as the F3D Skyknight night-fighter operations over Korea—escaped coverage. The Indo-Pakistani Wars of 1965 and 1971, which together resulted in the loss of more than 200 aircraft, and involved some interesting opposing match-ups, are not mentioned. Few encounters of far-off brush-fire wars—such as South African encounters with MiGs over Angola—are covered. Nevertheless, Rolling Thunder is comprehensive enough to immerse the reader thoroughly in the half-century of jet fighter combat.
This book is not just a compendium of aerial combat duels. One of the strengths of the book is the way the author integrates the development of jet fighters, air-to-air weaponry, tactics, and air power doctrine into the events that they shaped and which in turn shaped them. He does not treat his topic in isolation; the important support roles played by airborne early warning, electronic countermeasures, signals intelligence, photo-reconnaissance, and the suppression of enemy air defenses are covered appropriately.
Rolling Thunder makes for pertinent reading at a time when planners are debating the merits of unmanned combat aerial vehicles (UCAVs) and talking of fighters as a node in the seamless concept of network-centric warfare. The U.S. Congress is threatening cancellation of Lockheed Martin's costly and stealthy F-22 Raptor, a move which perhaps will stunt the further evolution of jet fighter aircraft, cripple the industrial base that produces the best fighters in the world, and mark a deliberate departure from the notion that air superiority is worth whatever it costs to maintain. Rendall uses history to argue strenuously that the pilot is the critical component of a jet fighter. He also uses facts to argue his thesis that air superiority, which enables victory on the ground, is best achieved with superior technology and training. Air superiority is a realm, Rendall says, in which compromise is not acceptable.
The few photos selected for the book do little to augment a subject so well enhanced by illustration. The bibliography indicates that the book contains little that is original research, but the author's intent seems to have been to collect widely scattered information into one source, highly readable and well-fused with thoughtful analysis; in that he has done a good job.
White Hats: Stories of the U.S. Navy Before World War II
Floyd Beaver. Palo Alto, CA: Glencannon Press, 1999. 244 pp. $17.95 ($16.15). Paper.
Reviewed by Captain William B. Hayler, U.S. Navy (Retired)
This book is a collection of short fiction stories about an era that seems long ago to some and just yesterday to others. It is well-written, enjoyable, and recommended to readers of Proceedings and all armchair sailors. Mr. Beaver's stories may be fictitious, but they do not stretch the imagination and have the ring of truth. The author joined the Navy in 1938, and was mustered out as a chief signalman after the war and returned to college.
Although this reviewer was not a part of the Navy during this time, as a Navy junior I was on the fringes of the pre-World War II Navy. Mr. Beaver has done a masterful job of re-creating the atmosphere that existed on board ship in the 1930s. Regardless of age or background, we can all relate to the life and times that unfold in the 244 pages before us. Here are excellent examples of leadership—good and bad—to which we can relate. One of Beaver's more poignant stories is about a shipmate's trip to a small southern town as the funeral escort for one of his friends who was the victim of an inexcusable accident.
It is difficult to know where you are unless you know where you have been. This shows you what the Navy was like then. It has changed, but perhaps not that much in many ways. Before World War II, the starboard accommodation ladder was sacrosanct and reserved for officers. I do not recall that in World War II or afterward we made that distinction—sometimes we were lucky to have a means of getting off the ship. And then, as now, there are older shipmates who are willing to help the young sailor or officer over the rough spots.