Retribution: The Battle for Japan, 1944-45
Max Hastings. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2008. 615 pp. Illus. Notes. Index. $35.
Reviewed by Major William M. Gibson, U.S. Army (Retired)
Retribution is an apt title for this book, which describes perhaps as no other work the brutal nature of the Pacific campaign against Japan. The scenario begins in 1944 with the Japanese Navy, especially its aviation arm, thoroughly broken. The U.S. Navy, however, had become an unstoppable juggernaut. With the strangulation of Japanese merchant shipping by the U.S. submarine fleet, it becomes difficult not to see in hindsight that Japan was doomed, and the outcome was no longer in doubt.
Max Hastings' major point is the nature of the Pacific war compared to that in Europe. By 1944, the world had learned of Japanese POW practices from local observers or escapees. Harsh and inhumane treatment of prisoners seemed to be a universal feature of the Japanese Army's manner of waging war. To enhance this concept, the author flashes back to the Japanese invasion of China and Manchuria and reminds the reader that such horrific practices should not have been unexpected.
The result, he says, was an increasing animosity on the part of Allied soldiers toward their enemy, and a realization by senior planners of the likelihood of unacceptable casualty rates as the Japanese outer defenses were breached. The desperate kamikaze attacks against naval forces, which began in the Philippines, reached epic proportions by the Okinawa invasion. Naval officers knew that this was but a taste of what awaited the force attacking the home islands. Accordingly, the Navy favored continued blockade by submarine and surface forces to starve the Japanese into submission.
The Army Air Forces had a different vision of how to defeat Japan. Attempts to undertake precision attacks that had been the norm for bombing over Germany met with poor results. Major General Curtis E. LeMay's assignment to the Pacific changed everything. The concept of precision industrial bombing disappeared; in its place was a low-altitude approach using incendiary bombs, which created massive fire storms. In a few months, LeMay's bombers had burned out nearly every major city in Japan.
Given the hopelessness of their situation, why did the Japanese continue to fight? One reason was a form of cultural self-delusion—if they could inflict heavy enough casualties with kamikazes and other suicide instruments, the Allies would accept a negotiated peace. This would include leaving the emperor in place, no military occupation of Japan, and retention of their control of Manchuria and China. They continually underestimated American resolve to settle the score of Pearl Harbor, and ignored the obvious conclusions of the end of the war in Europe.
The use of nuclear weapons and the Soviet Union's entry into the Pacific war mark the final chapters. Decisions made at Yalta permitted the Soviets to take control of Manchuria and reclaim Sakhalin Island in return for placing military pressure on Japan. President Harry S. Truman and his advisers knew that the Soviets wished to be a part of the occupation force, to include Hokkaido. Thus, says Hastings, the use of nuclear weapons was based not only on the premise of unconditional surrender, but to deter the Soviets from additional expansionism in the Far East, and to warn them of the possible consequences of the coming Cold War. Chapters on the nuclear bombing missions and underlying preparations are complete and concise.
This is a must-read book. Its breadth and scope is unequaled in the contemporary literature, and does much to refute claims of revisionist historians, both Japanese and American. If there is one shortcoming, it is minor: the end notes are not as inclusive as they might be.
The Border: Exploring the U.S.-Mexicaan Divide
David J. Danelo. Mechanicsburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 2008. 256 pp. Illus. Maps. $24.95.
Reviewed by Brigadier General Richard A. Behrenhausen, U.S. Army (Retired)
In The Border, David Danelo has captured much of the confusing and complex nature of la frontera, the U.S.-Mexican border that has become a contentious national boundary. A former Marine and combat veteran, Danelo traversed the 1,900-mile border from Boca Chica, Texas, to Border Field State Park south of San Diego where it meets the ocean. He reports from both sides of the divide and provides a fair representation of the issues plaguing both Mexicans and Americans.
The U.S. Border Patrol is the main player in combating both drug and illegal immigration. Known contemptibly as La Migra by Mexican nationals, it has an almost love/hate relationship with those it seeks to apprehend as it goes about its daily operations, at times wearing the black hat of seize and arrest and at others the white hat of rescue and save. (Danelo errs in translating La Migra as "it migrates." It is a colloquial shortening of the Instituto National de Migracion.)
In a textbook example of the confusing nature of right and wrong along the border, Danelo relates the sad saga of Border Patrol agents "Nacho" Ramos and Jos?
Compean who are incarcerated in a U.S. federal prison for the 2005 shooting of an admitted drug smuggler near El Paso, Texas. He is correct in observing that their case "evolved into a furor" because it occurred near El Paso. He notes that the city, which abuts Juarez, Mexico, is "a headquarters of sorts for the various organizations and committees that the U.S. government has chartered to supervise the frontier." Perhaps because of his military background, Danelo spends considerable time examining one such agency—Joint Task Force North.
The task force began life in 1989 as JTF-6 under the sponsorship of Colin Powell, at the time commander of U.S. Forces Command. It was to have operational control of active and reserve forces, which would be assigned support missions designed to improve their readiness and assist border law enforcement agencies. Powell saw it as an excellent way to conduct small-unit operational training along the vast southwestern borderlands. Law enforcement agencies viewed it as a major and threatening encroachment of their turf. This initial tension ebbed and flowed over the years but has never been truly resolved.
Danelo presents this tension and all of the frustrations it generates from the on-the-ground Marine perspective. His telling of the 1997 shooting death of Zeke Hernandez by Marines under the operational control of JTF-6 is accurate and poignant, his only factual error in the tale being that this death ended military counterdrug missions on the border.
In fact, the task force has conducted more than 2,700 additional missions since the tragedy. But Danelo, like so many others, fails to grasp the true mission (as accepted by law enforcement) of the task force. The military is on the border only to support law enforcement officials when and where they want such support. The military can report border intrusions until they are blue in the face; law enforcement authorities will decide when, where, how, and if they will act on the information.
There is much more of interest in The Border. Danelo details how disparate border communities deal with emerging issues. His interviews with both Mexican and U.S. residents are illuminating and vary depending on which part of the frontier he finds himself. He captures well the essence of the eastern and western part of the 1,900 miles but stumbles at its heart—El Paso. I would invite him to return to the "Capital of the Border" to get to know us better.
In his prologue, Danelo writes that when first trying to know what the border was he received advice from a fellow writer: Do not understand the border too quickly. He was wise to follow this advice. The Border is an excellent first step in trying to understand the border, which has no solutions, some errors, some hope for the future, and some lingering despair. That, in fact, is a pretty good description of la frontera and makes The Border well worth reading,
U.S. Naval Air Superiority: Development of Shipborne Jet Fighters, 1943-1962
Tommy H. Thomason. North Branch, MN: Specialty Press, 2007. 275 pp. Illus. Appen. Notes. Index. $44.95.
Reviewed by Captain E. T. Wooldridge, U.S. Navy (Retired)
Following World War II, as the U.S. Navy transitioned to jet propulsion, the path to safer, more effective, and professional carrier aviation was a tortuous and bloody one. But by the mid-1960s the accident rate had been reduced to acceptable limits and U.S. Navy jet fighters were second to none in performance and mission versatility. Tommy Thomason's comprehensive knowledge and unique perspective of this period are evident as he takes the reader through the growing pains of the first generation of carrier-based jet fighters—the FH-1 Phantom and the FJ-1 Fury—to the glory years of the Navy's first operational Mach 2 fighter, the F4H (F-4) Phantom II.
This book is a complete technical account of the development and early deployment of every jet-propelled U.S. Navy fighter during the period 1943-62. The text is accompanied by an extensive array of photographs, many of them from the private collections of such notable aviation historians as Hal Andrews, Robert L. Lawson, and Jay Miller. The author presumes the average reader has some basic knowledge of stability and control, aircraft performance, and aircraft design parameters. Anyone involved with the development of these aircraft in any manner—flight crews, engineers, bureaucrats, et al.—will feel comfortable and will have at least a passing understanding of the proceedings.
Unfortunately, the average reader, with perhaps little knowledge of the subject matter, might feel uncomfortable with the technical jargon and aerodynamic discourses that accompany the chapters on each aircraft. However, if so inclined, laymen are encouraged to skip over the engineering sections, enjoy the photographs and captions (which tell the story in themselves), read the historical narrative and human interest stories, and look for names of old shipmates, friends, acquaintances, and others of note in the aeronautical world. It can be a genuine nostalgia trip for anyone remotely interested in the era.
Thomason explores all the problems inherent in the proposition of taking jet aviation to sea—high carrier landing approach speeds, reduced reaction times on the part of the pilot and the Landing Signal Officer, slow acceleration time of the early jet engines, heavier aircraft with structural design problems, poor carrier flight deck illumination, and antiquated approach control facilities on board ship. Night flying off a straight deck in the early jets frequently added a whole new meaning to the phrase "stark terror." It was the extreme test for man and machine—and naval aviation.
Nonetheless, the solutions did come, as the author lays out so well. By the late 1950s and early 1960s, naval aviation was moving into its fourth generation of tactical jet aircraft. From the British came the angled deck, steam catapult, and mirror landing system, later to be replaced by the Fresnel lens. The Essex-class carriers were modernized to accommodate high-performance jets. The so-called "super" carriers like the USS Forrestal (CV-59) had arrived, and the nuclear-powered USS Enterprise (CVN-65) was in service. In-flight refueling capabilities evolved, and the Pilot Landing Aid Television System provided useful analysis of pilot landing and takeoff performance.
Everyone involved directly in the development of shipborne jet fighters in the early days most assuredly has their own favorite aircraft, hairy (and often humorous) story, or designer. Though author Thomason certainly covers as many bases as possible, one could argue that a few more lively flying stories would have helped to soften the tone of the aerodynamic discourses. Also some might disagree over the emphasis on certain aircraft. The F7U Cutlass comes to mind. But, personal feelings and preferences for aircraft, events, and people aside, this is an outstanding, one of a kind account of the trials, tribulations, and ultimate successes that distinguished the development of U.S Navy jet fighters
One hopes that Thomason will apply his considerable talent and expertise to a follow-on volume dedicated to the development of shipborne jet attack aircraft.
Explorer: The Life of Richard E. Byrd
Lisle A. Rose. Columbia, MO: University of Missouri Press, 2008. 543 pp. Bib. Index. Illus. $34.95.
Reviewed by Commander David L. Teska, U.S. Coast Guard Reserve
Lisle A. Rose opens his biography of famed polar explorer and aviation pioneer Rear Admiral Richard E. Byrd by stating forcefully, "There are no heroes now." Our age of cynicism, he postulates, makes exploration seem contrived if not foolhardy. The period between the world wars was a different time when the American public insatiably followed the exploits of early aviators and explorers.
Certainly Admiral Byrd fits that category. Between 1925 and 1957 Byrd explored Greenland, flew the Atlantic, flew with Floyd Bennett on the first flight over the North Pole, and led or supervised five major expeditions to the Antarctic (1928-30, 1933-35, 1939-40, 1946-47, and 1955-56).
A great admirer of Byrd, Rose pulls no punches in his treatment of the famed explorer known for his showmanship and need to remain in the spotlight. Yet Byrd's expeditions to the Antarctic demonstrated his professional dedication and perseverance to explore a largely unknown and hostile region. The tale of Byrd's accomplishments is all the more incredible when told against the backdrop of the challenges his expeditions faced by extreme temperatures and primitive equipment.
Long-range polar aviation was in its infancy when, in 1926, Byrd and Floyd Bennett made their one-day flight to the North Pole in a Fokker Trimotor. Challenges soon arose as to whether the two could have flown the 700-mile round trip from Spitsbergen Island in the reported time. Rose tackles this issue head on and presents logical explanations that prove Byrd and Floyd accomplished what they set out to do.
Byrd's most challenging accomplishment and one that nearly cost him his life, however, would come eight years later when he endeavored to survive alone for five months in an Antarctic weather station, Advance Base. A flaw in the cabin's construction resulted in consistent exposure to carbon monoxide fumes produced by the radio's generator. His second-in-command, Tom Poulter, undertook what has to be one of the more daring and challenging rescues ever accomplished.
The book's major drawback is its length and level of detail. Rose was able to amass an impressive quantity of primary source material from the Byrd Polar Research Center Archives, which resulted in a hefty book that exceeds 500 pages. It would have benefited from tighter editing. The book's photographs, while informative, need complete captions. The last image shows Admiral Byrd shaking hands with an unidentified man standing next to the admiral's wife, Marie. Also too much space was dedicated to identifying photograph sources, an unnecessary point as all were from the Byrd Polar Research Center Archives at Ohio State University.
Rose has written a well-researched and superbly documented biography of a highly controversial public figure. His own experience and background served him well in its production. Rose first went to the Antarctic in 1956-57 and has written several books including Assault on Eternity: Richard E. Byrd and the Exploration of Antarctica, 1946-47 (Naval Institute Press, 1980). He has also served as an expert on Byrd for A&E's Biography series and the PBS program, American Experience, and is a member of the American Polar Society. His admiration for Admiral Byrd resonates throughout his book but Rose ably maintains his objectivity. The result is a solid biography of a very complex man who over much of his adult life chalked up incredible achievements that more than 50 years later remain episodes of wonder and amazement.