Published: 1 December 2009
Air & Space Power Journal - Winter 2009

Top

Top

Crisis and Crossfire: The United States and the Middle East since 1945 by Peter L. Hahn. Potomac Books (http://www.potomacbooksinc.com), 22841 Quicksilver Drive, Dulles, Virginia 20166, 2005, 224 pages, $36.00 (hardcover), $17.56 (softcover).

Peter L. Hahn, author of Crisis and Crossfire—part of Potomac Books’ Issues in the History of American Foreign Relations series—provides a credible review of US involvement in the Middle East and presidential doctrines covering that region. Particularly striking are the behind-the-scenes explanations of actions during early US political ventures as well as Middle East peace conferences. Hahn does a splendid job of setting the stage for US political and economic involvement in the area.

Before World War II, US government officials had little interest in the Middle East. “ ‘Egypt is a charming place to be stationed,’ William J. Jardine, the American minister to Cairo, wrote in 1932. ‘As I see it, there is not much going on here of tremendous importance to my government. . . . It appears to me to be quite a sideshow’ ” (pp. 1–2). One may reasonably conclude that official US involvement in the Middle East after World War II focuses on regional stability to ensure the flow of and US access to Middle Eastern oil. The author illustrates how this interest arose as British influence in the region waned and grew more intense as the US economy became more dependent on foreign oil. Hahn’s ensuing discussion of World War II and Cold War–era US government activities lead the reader through a number of security systems, treaties, and alliances that ultimately set the stage for or helped preclude future conflicts in the region. Furthermore, Hahn shows how US interest has also waxed and waned with the degree of Soviet—and, later, Russian—activity in the region.

The discussion of US presidential doctrine for the Middle East is enlightening. Hahn begins with the Truman Doctrine of 1947 and works his way through to Pres. George W. Bush (current as of 2005). I was happy to see discussion not only about oil-rich Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and Iran, but also about Israel, its neighbors and their collective issues, and US presidential involvement in a search for peace in that part of the Middle East.

At times, it seems that the author’s personal opinions, perhaps shaped by some of the sources he used, intrude themselves into the text. Additionally, I noted with interest a comment by Robert J. McMahon, the series editor, who remarks in the introduction that books in this series will feature a broad international perspective on the external behavior of the United States. However, glancing through the bibliography of primary published sources and secondary materials, one finds little more than a handful of international sources in the secondary materials and none in the primary sources (two-thirds of which consist of the US Department of State’s Foreign Relations of the United States volumes).

Despite these shortcomings, as a historical review of US involvement in the Middle East, Crisis and Crossfire serves as a good resource. However, readers desiring deeper analysis and perhaps even recommended courses of action for American foreign policy in the region may desire to seek alternate texts.

Maj Paul G. Niesen, USAF, Retired
Scott AFB, Illinois

Top

Evader: The Epic Story of the First British Airman to Be Rescued by the Com’ete Escape Line in World War II by Derek Shuff. Spellmount Publishers, Tempus Publishing Group (http://www.spellmount.com), The Mill, Brimscombe Port, Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG, 2003, 216 pages, $32.95 (hardcover).

Newman would eventually split off from the two other airmen from the G for George but not before they barely escaped with their lives. Local resistance fighters suspected that the three airmen were German spies trying to identify both the resistance members who transported downed Allied airmen to safety and the routes they used. A 21-year-old former Belgian Air Force pilot ultimately had to make the decision of life or death for the three airmen. Thankfully, he made the correct one.

Over the next five months, Sergeant Newman stayed at safe houses, met interesting people, and lived with the danger of being captured or killed. At one house, the other occupants were young German soldiers. At another, the mistress of the home was a nun, and her brother, there on a visit, was a “gun-toting monk” (p. 59). On his journey to freedom, he met two pilots (also on the run)—a Canadian and an Australian. For the remainder of his journey, Newman’s guide to safety was none other than the head of the Com’ete Escape Line—a 23-year-old girl, code-named “De’de’e’ ” (little mother). They traveled more than 1,200 miles into three countries, over a mountain range more than 8,000 feet high, across a rope bridge, and hoped the Spanish would not kill them. Sergeant Newman finally set foot on English soil on 14 January 1942.

More than an interesting read, Evader tells a story of survival, luck, selfless sacrifice, and the desire to end German occupation. Shuff incorporates interviews that he conducted with the principals, uses reports written either during the war or just after, and includes photographs as well as personal correspondence. Most of the book reads like a novel, with minute attention to detail and vivid visuals jumping off the page.

Readers will encounter a few minor issues with the book. For example, Americans will find some of the British slang hard to understand, although for the most part, it is confined to the introduction to Newman’s life. Changes in font size also prove somewhat distracting but not as much as the constant shifts in point of view—sometimes more than five times in a three-page span.

Nevertheless, I recommend this book to everyone, especially Airmen and readers who have an interest in history and World War II. Evader not only demonstrates how a person can survive a harrowing wartime situation through perseverance, training, luck, and the generosity of others but also offers tidbits of information that might help the next Airman who finds himself or herself in Jack’s situation—even more than 60 years later.

Gina M. Kern
Fort Bliss, Texas

Top

Billy Mitchell: Crusader for Air Power by Alfred F. Hurley. Indiana University Press (http://www.iupress.indiana.edu), 601 North Morton Street, Bloomington, Indiana 47404-3797, 2006, 204 pages, $19.95 (softcover).

Many people think of Billy Mitchell only as a martyr to the development of American military airpower. According to author Alfred Hurley, this is the result of overemphasizing one or two sensational elements of his story—especially his highly controversial court-martial of 1925—in biographies, films, and television programs. However, in his recently reprinted biography of Mitchell, first published over 40 years ago, Hurley sees Mitchell’s sensationalism as the means to draw attention to his views on aviation. He presents Mitchell as a tireless crusader for American airpower from 1918 to the end of his life. Instead of highlighting the actions that led to Mitchell’s court-martial and his fading from public attention, Hurley focuses on the genesis and development of Mitchell’s ideas about aviation and the process of how he progressively acquired, applied, and publicized them.

A retired Air Force general officer, a well-known military historian, and chancellor and president emeritus of the University of North Texas, Hurley has published several books and articles on American airpower, is working on a biography of Curtis LeMay, and has contributed to various historical works and journals. He has taught at the US Air Force Academy as well as Indiana University and has lectured at the National, Army, and Navy War Colleges and Air Force service schools. At the Air Force Academy, he led the development of the well-known symposia in military history, now almost 40 years old. He has also remained active in many historical and educational associations.

Hurley presents Mitchell as a tireless and outspoken advocate for the fullest development of American airpower after he experienced its first real combat use in France during World War I. He reviews Mitchell’s wartime and postwar experiences, the origins and evolution of his ideas on airpower, and the waning of his influence after his court-martial and subsequent resignation from the Air Service. Hurley added an appendix to the 1975 revision of the biography, in which he discusses the contributions of George O. Squier, the officer who first introduced aeronautics to the Signal Corps, and he adds material from the transcript of Mitchell’s court-martial. Throughout, Hurley avoids the prejudices and extremes of both Mitchell’s staunchest supporters and his severest critics to present a fairly evenhanded account of one of America’s most controversial personalities and certainly the most controversial of military aviation’s pioneers and advocates. In doing so, he provides, in his own words, “the first documented, critical, and hopefully, balanced study of Mitchell and his work” (p. viii).

According to the author, Mitchell returned from Europe “fully determined to bring about a revolution in American military policy by persuasion alone” (p. 39). Unfortunately, his ideas, garnered from his wartime experiences and borrowed from other like-minded European airmen, especially Hugh Trenchard—wartime and postwar chief of the Royal Air Force (the only separate air force to emerge from the war)—were well in advance not only of most of his fellow Army and Navy officers but also of contemporary aviation technology and the views of the American public. For the rest of his life, Mitchell would face similar problems as he continually refined his ideas on the proper and effective use of airpower and propounded these evolving ideas to different audiences through different means.

Other people have seen as sensationalism and deliberate controversy Mitchell’s efforts to persuade superiors, fellow officers, Congress, and the American public on the need for a modern and independent air service that could make a distinctive and vital contribution to national defense. By focusing on the origins and continual evolution of Mitchell’s airpower ideas, however, Hurley sees them as tactics. For example, the bombing trials of 1921 were not just a demonstration of the ability of airplanes to sink major warships. They were also a means to publicize to the postwar, budget-conscious, “moralistic” Congress and American public one way airpower could contribute to national defense, as opposed to demonstrating a purely offensive air force.

Moving forward to 1924, the book shows that the American public, Congress, and new president Calvin Coolidge were even more focused on “normalcy,” isolationism, and budget cutting than they were in 1921. Now lacking an issue to drive home his airpower ideas, Mitchell resorted to public accusations and attacks on the failure of senior military officials to provide an adequate national defense and then made “progressively more reckless statements” to keep his name in the headlines (p. 97). According to Hurley, “Mitchell, instead of recognizing this new state of affairs and modifying what he was doing, kept swinging harder until he himself dramatized his case with his own court-martial” (p. 91). After the trial, Mitchell lost favor with the press that had previously supported him and even with the active duty Airmen who believed in the same ideas. His aggressive and extreme tactics, according to Hurley, led the press to refuse his articles and affected the willingness of Airmen to work slowly within “the system” to achieve their goals.

In the end, most of Mitchell’s ideas on the use of airpower by an independent air service have proven valid. During the 1930s, the Air Corps Tactical School further refined his airpower ideas into doctrine for precision strategic bombing during daylight. Although flawed as used during World War II because of the available technology, its implementation ultimately led to the creation of the US Air Force in September 1947. Finally, we can still readily see the influence of Mitchell’s ideas in current Air Force doctrine and air operations concerning the use of precision-guided munitions. The issue, as Hurley notes, was Mitchell’s erroneous belief that “the realization of his vision would justify the tactics” (p. 139).

Despite the age of Billy Mitchell: Crusader for Air Power, it is still compelling and should be read by the general public, students, military historians, and Airmen alike. My only criticism concerns the appendix, added to the 1975 edition to bring the biography up to date. I would have preferred that the author integrate its contents into appropriate chapters of the book rather than include it as a separate section.

Dr. Robert B. Kane
Eglin AFB, Florida

Top

The Army after Next: The First Postindustrial Army by Thomas K. Adams. Praeger Security International (http://psi.praeger.com), Green­wood Publishing Group, 88 Post West Road, P.O. Box 5007, Westport, Connecticut 06881-5007, 2006, 336 pages, $49.95 (hardcover).

The fall of the Soviet Union was a watershed for the US military. The inexorable shift from set-piece warfare through a period of global engagement into an era of international counterterrorism and counterinsurgency wrought serious debate within the Department of Defense. The history of defense transformation is complex. Particularly enigmatic is the chronicle of the US Army’s handling of transformation during this period. In The Army after Next, defense analyst Thomas K. Adams illustrates “a narrative of army transformation, the attempt to create a postindustrial army, the greatest change in American military structure since the civil war” (p. 3). The title itself represents the ambitious nature of the Army’s efforts in contributing to advancement of the revolution in military affairs (RMA). Adams spent 34 years as an officer in intelligence and special-operations assignments ranging from Vietnam to Bosnia. He writes with an air of unabashed objectivity covering two themes: the RMA and the parallel development of Army and Air Force doctrine.

The author begins his chronicle by highlighting notions that came of age in the late 1990s: net war, cyber war, and information warfare. Additionally, the criteria for an RMA include technological innovation, advancement of doctrine, and organizational adaptation. The main concept in the RMA is the ability to harness vast quantities of information using a centrally controlled network in order to attain information dominance. The concept of information dominance is superior to other theories since it combines a vision of future warfare with military requirements. Adams asserts that information substitutes for mass on the battlefield but criticizes sensor development (the means of attaining information dominance) as an exercise of technology demonstration rather than one piece of a deployable combat system (p. 207). Concerning the RMA, the author is critical of the Army’s potential due to the subsequent conflict between change and bureaucratic institutions.

Former secretary of defense Donald Rumsfeld and Army leadership disagreed on programs he viewed as self-serving, particularly those organic to each service. Moreover, Secretary Rumsfeld perceived the Army as retaining the same organizational structure as divisions fighting during World War II—centered squarely on heavy armor. Although armor is perfect for pitched maneuver battles, it is logistically poor. Reorganization of manpower—high on the Army’s list of changes—is one area that Adams praises. The Army revamped its organization by removing a layer of hierarchy and laterally distributing forces within the divisions, creating brigade combat teams as a means to increase expeditionary capability and operational maneuverability on the battlefield. In addition, the progeny of new combat vehicles—the Stryker—achieved several goals for the Army: increased lethality with decreased weight, increased deployability without sacrificing vulnerability, and a reduced requirement for logistical support (pp. 80–83).

The Stryker represents the next generation of Army combat vehicles. Designed to be easily deployable, it nevertheless remains a logistically heavy burden for the Air Force. Once the problem of staging the vehicle in-theater is solved, it takes two C-130s to move a vehicle and full crew within the theater. Logistical shortcomings limited the creation of new doctrine—to be based on the premise of a rapidly deployable combat vehicle, which the Stryker most certainly was not. Operational progress staggered because the Army’s field testing took longer than expected. Meanwhile, as testing lurched forward, use of the vehicle in combat proceeded. On the battlefield, however, shortcomings of Army transformation became more apparent. Perhaps the invasion of Iraq was so swift that some Stryker units had to stop in order to receive actionable intelligence on enemy positions from their higher headquarters. On three occasions, units were ambushed during halts. In Adams’s estimation, the “Army after next” overpromised and underdelivered. Although American soldiers performed valiantly, the mediocre performance of their machinery highlighted the shortcomings of the network as well as the information dominance required for it to function as conceived. Furthermore, at a staggering cost of $117 billion covering its development thus far, the Army after next continues to drain defense budgets. Digitization and spiraling costs, as Adams perceives, are the bane of Army transformation. However, digitization is the lifeblood of the Air Force.

The Army sees itself as the primary, decisive war-fighting component—supported by airpower. Until recently, that concept had no rival. The success of airpower during the first Gulf War, however, precipitated an intellectual following for the broad application of airpower. Superficially, Air Force transformation met the criteria for the RMA. In stark contrast with the Army, the Air Force transformed rapidly. It yielded enormous cuts in the bomber force, restructured forces, and overhauled electronic systems in all airframes. During every application of airpower since the end of the Cold War, the Air Force lobbied that the precise application of airpower to the proper targets (centers of gravity) of an enemy can render military victory. Doctrinally, the Air Force proposed full-spectrum dominance: operations harnessing joint capabilities, leveraging information superiority, and covering all intensities of the combat spectrum. As Afghanistan and initial combat operations in Iraq illustrated, airpower is low risk and politically palpable in contrast to otherwise potentially bloody outcomes. Based on Adams’s account, Army and Air Force transformation competed, forcing both services to change for the better.

As a study of Army transformation, The Army after Next is important to any officer because it offers an unapologetic critique that covers efforts to change fighting systems as well as their organization and doctrine. Adams simplifies inescapable detractors such as the ever-changing lexicon of transformation and the Army’s structural metamorphoses. Transformation is exceedingly complicated in concept and exponentially more complex in execution, a fact ultimately proven on the battlefield. This book’s greatest advantage for American Airmen is its ability to reflect evenhanded analysis of the evolution of Air Force and Army transformation—ultimately pointing to the future. Although the benefits of technology are used every day in American combat operations, Adams concludes that the unrealized vision of Army leaders was too far reaching and costly to implement.

Capt Daniel Magruder, USAF

Hurlburt Field, Florida

Top

A History of the American People by Paul M. Johnson. HarperCollins Publishers (http://www.harpercollins. com), 10 East 53d Street, New York, New York 10022, 1999, 1,104 pages, $20.00 (trade paperback).

Since the Frenchman Alexis de Tocqueville first cast a curious eye on the American continent in 1831, the United States has been an open book to the world, its successes and failures made known to all. Once again, a European has reached across the Atlantic to examine the American people. The renowned British historian Paul Johnson, author of Modern Times: The World from the Twenties to the Eighties (1983) and A History of the Jews (1987), has compiled A History of the American People, an ambitious one-volume text of American history.

He begins his book by asking three open-ended questions by means of which he seeks to frame the story of the American people: “Can a nation rise above the injustices of its origins [i.e. displacement of Native Americans, slavery, etc.] and, by its moral purpose and performance, atone for them? . . . Have [Americans] forged a nation where righteousness has the edge over the needful self-interest? . . . Americans originally aimed to build an other-worldly ‘City on a Hill’ . . . to be a model for the entire planet. Have they made good their audacious claims?” (p. 3).

With these questions as background, Johnson traces the history of the nation chronologically, writing in an easy-to-read, storytelling fashion. The book is divided into eight parts, each containing 15–20 sections with such titles as “John Adams and the European War” and “Why the Depression Was So Deep and Long-Lasting.” One enjoyable feature of the book is the author’s inter­spersed biographical sketches of notable Americans such as Benjamin Franklin, Henry Clay, Jefferson Davis, and Andrew Carnegie.

In addition to explaining significant historical events such as the Louisiana Purchase and the Battle of Gettysburg, Johnson discusses trends that shaped the development of the country. American immigration and birth rates in the early nineteenth century surpassed all historical precedent. The population and economy were able to grow since land was easily available to anyone who would farm it. Johnson asserts that “in the entire history of the United States, the land-purchase system was the single most benevolent act of government” (p. 290).

Aviation makes several appearances in the book: the Wright brothers setting up the country’s first public company (p. 623); Gen Jimmy Doolittle’s raid on Tokyo (p. 799); the dropping of the atomic bomb from Col Paul Tibbets’s B-29 Enola Gay (p. 803); the Berlin airlift, which provided “Stalin, and the whole world, with an awesome demonstration of American airpower” (p. 814); and two quotations from Gen Curtis LeMay, who asserted that Vietnam could be “bombed back into the Stone Age” (p. 881).

Beginning with the New Deal era (circa 1933), the book takes a decidedly partisan tone as Johnson makes no attempt to disguise his own conservative political perspective. Considering the limited number of pages allotted to the civil rights movement, the author spends disproportionate effort in criticizing affirmative action and sympathetically explaining President Nixon’s involvement in Watergate. Additionally, pages are filled with details of the alleged marital infidelities of Presidents F. D. Roosevelt, Kennedy, and Johnson. (The author himself—as he admitted in 1998—was carrying on an 11-year extramarital affair.) For a supplemental view of American history from a more left-leaning perspective, see Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States (1980). For a history of the American military, see For the Common Defense: A Military History of the United States of America (1984) by Allan R. Millett and Peter Maslowski.

A History of the American People is an informative and enjoyable book, bringing to life the history we once learned in the classroom and reminding us why we serve. The book’s placement on the Air Force chief of staff’s reading list for 2006 serves as a reminder that airpower and space power are not ends to themselves; rather, they exist and are employed most meaningfully in the defense of a nation worth defending—one that, by learning from its history, can overcome its mistakes and serve as a shining example of democracy.

Capt Bryan D. Main, USAF
Scott AFB, Illinois

Top

Soul Soldiers: African Americans and the Vietnam Era edited by Samuel W. Black. Senator John Heinz Pittsburgh Regional History Center and the Historical Society of Western Pennsylvania (http://store. pghhistory.org/?cid=10#), 1212 Smallman Street, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15222, 2006, 218 pages, $29.95 (hardcover), $19.95 (softcover).

Divided into three sections and drawing upon the experiences of eight authors of various backgrounds who come together through the common threads of their views of the war in Vietnam, Soul Soldiers will galvanize readers. For example, in “Combat and the Interracial Male Friendship,” Herman Graham III relives the history of African-American military participation and argues that the Vietnam War was the first engagement in which blacks and whites fought as equals. This sense of equality, he notes, enhanced a sense of camaraderie to support survival “so that each soldier would do his part to make the collective effort work” (p. 1). Yet he finds that the level of intimacy experienced by service members was socially unacceptable in the civilian world. Racial conflicts reemerged once service members returned to the rear, where they found drug use widespread.

In “Going to Mess Up Some Beasts Tonight,” James E. Westheider describes racial conflicts wherein a distinct and nearly complete racial polarization existed at defense installations, where many Southerners provoked fights with blacks, especially those who they believed had become uppity. Other whites embraced notions of black inferiority, thereby helping to complicate the experience of black service persons. The assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. also helped to increase racial antagonisms. Although some whites were sympathetic to blacks during this time, others openly rejoiced at the news that the troublemaker had been eliminated. At Cam Ranh Bay, for example, whites raised the Confederate flag in celebration.

In “And Sing No More of War,” Kimberley L. Phillips uses poetry to illustrate the black woman’s response to the war in Vietnam. She cites June Jordan’s poem as an example of the black woman’s vocal opposition to the war. Jordan vehemently disagrees with jazz singer Ethel Ennis, who sang the “Star Spangled Banner” at the inauguration of Richard Nixon in 1973, saying, “My sister/what is this song/you have chosen to sing?/. . . to celebrate murder?” (Ennis also sang at the inauguration of Jimmy Carter in 1977 and toured Europe for the State Department in the 1950s with Benny Goodman, Louis Armstrong, and Count Basie.) Yet Phillips quickly reminds readers that many prominent blacks, including singer James Brown and actor Sammy Davis Jr., supported the Nixon administration. Other black poets, including Nikki Giovanni and Carolyn Rodgers, denounced the war. Dr. King’s denunciation of the war in 1968, Phillips writes, made it easier for such blacks as actor and singer Harry Belafonte to bridge the gap between activism and civil rights.

Still, some black entertainers feared that open criticism of the government might brand them as Communist sympathizers and precipitate the end of their careers, just as the perception of radicalism ended the career of Canada Lee in the 1940s and that of Josephine Baker in the 1950s. Yet such singers as Nina Simone were galvanized by the violence in Birmingham in 1963 and the murder of Medgar Evers in Jackson, Mississippi, the same year. Simone also collaborated with black poet Langston Hughes in 1968 to write music for his poem “The Backlash Blues.” In late 1971, she teamed up with Donald Sutherland and Jane Fonda to perform music and comedy routines in protest of the war.

Heather Stur’s contribution, “In Service and in Protest,” examines the impact of the war on black women and the black community. Women such as Elizabeth Allen volunteered to go to Vietnam, reasoning that “I knew African Americans were most likely to end up in the battle units, in the death units, and I really wanted to do something [to help]” (p. xiv). The inclusion of black men and women in the military effort, especially after the Tet offensive of 1968, united them to oppose racism and sexism in the military and to view the “Vietnam War as an extension of the civil rights injustices African Americans fought at home” (p. 86).

Stur observes that in 1967 only 39 percent of the black male population was eligible for the draft as compared to 63 percent of the white male population, yet 64 percent of the eligible black males were drafted as compared to only 31 percent of the eligible white males. According to Stur, a knock on any door in any black community would reveal someone with a son, nephew, or cousin in Vietnam. The unfair draft affected not only the men who served but also the families they left behind. Some families had multiple sons as well as father-son and brother-sister combinations serving in the war. Other families may have had several generations committed to the war.

In “As I Recall . . . ” Samuel W. Black contends that the Vietnam War and the Korean War differed from previous military engagements in that they were the first ones fought with an integrated armed force, but the latter war was fought with greater civil and constitutional rights in society for African-Americans. The black military man went beyond the quest for full citizenship; blacks now wanted a redefined patriotism.

Soul Soldiers is a must-read text that provides an in-depth assessment of the military experience of African-American men and women. The installments were written by persons with impeccable credentials; each section is well written, thoroughly documented, and superbly illustrated.

The study nevertheless offers a revealing commentary of American society. It shows the continuation of the legacy of the separate-but-equal tenets of the Plessy decision of 1896 despite the signing of Executive Order 9981 by Pres. Harry S. Truman to desegregate the armed forces in 1948 and the role Truman’s order played in paving the way for the Brown decision in 1954. Samuel Black charges that American society in the Vietnam War era remained “two separate societies, one black, one white—separate and unequal” (p. xi).

Richard Bailey
Montgomery, Alabama

Top

The Ash Warriors by C. R. Anderegg. Air Force History and Museums Program (http://www
.airforcehistory.hq.af.mil/publications.htm), 200 McChord Street, Box 94, Bolling AFB, Washington, DC 20332-1111, 2005, 146 pages, $21.00 (softcover) (from the Government Printing Office). Available free at http://www.airforcehistory.hq.af.mil/Publications/fulltext/PACAF_PINATUBO.pdf.

In his first published book, Col C. R. Anderegg, USAF, retired, builds a compelling chronological detail of Clark Air Base’s last days during the eruption of Mount Pinatubo. With a gift of forthright storytelling, Colonel Anderegg pieces together the elements of Clark’s plight nicely, documenting his own firsthand testimony and interviewing 100 eyewitnesses in this scholarly work.

Originally published in 2000 by Pacific Air Force’s history office and reprinted in 2005 by the Air Force History and Museums Program, this book, though certainly a historical record, offers the reader much more. (By the way, for any additional printings, I would recommend adding a subtitle to clarify its contents, such as The Ash Warriors: How One Base Responded to Volcanic Disaster.)

I particularly enjoyed reading about the ingenuity of our Airmen, evident in the security force’s employment of the F-4 infrared pod to detect thieves and lava flows at night. In addition, the author includes compelling stories of how the use of swimming goggles in the ash storms and backup brick radio generators saved lives. The sometimes uncomfortable stories intrigued me by highlighting the volatility and devastation of the situation. Water shortages forced members of one family to drink from their water bed and others to shower unabashedly in the middle of a Philippine rice paddy. These incidents personalized the hardships of Clark’s residents.

The author makes an effort to dispel widely dispersed rumors and misconceptions that arose during the confusion of evacuation both before and after Mount Pinatubo’s eruption. For example, having served as vice-commander of the 3rd Tactical Fighter Wing at Clark, he sets the record straight by noting that the F-4s left the base as part of a planned drawdown only a few months earlier than originally forecast—not because of political pressure or volcanic activity.

Additionally, after the eruption, local Philippine news always placed commanders on the defensive by issuing erroneous—often panicked—reports citing, for example, that everyone on Clark had been killed or that the detonation of a US nuclear weapon had actually caused the explosion. The base’s public-affairs campaign to inform and direct the public always seemed an uphill battle that never silenced the endless questions and confusion generated by emergency phone lines, radio call-ins, and media interviews.

Lastly, Anderegg reminds readers of the great leadership at Clark and Subic Bay during the eruption and coinciding hurricane, both of which sealed the fate of all military personnel in the Philippines. Despite the confusion and multiple natural disasters, not one US citizen died—everyone evacuated safely.

Would the American military still be in the Philippines had the volcano remained dormant? Probably, but it would have had to assume an astronomical financial burden stemming from base reconstruction, not to mention the necessity of dealing with ever-increasing demands from the Philippine government. Anderegg briefly mentions the importance of the political aspects but, rightly, does not dwell on the subject.

Should Mount Fuji (currently classified as an active but low-risk volcano) ever erupt, commanders at Yokota Air Base would face the same sort of situation that confronted their counterparts at Clark—coping with a foreign government and large noncombatant evacuations. Thus, The Ash Warriors also serves as a valuable case study for support commanders or emergency-management personnel. Furthermore, engineers should take note of the author’s characterization of water distribution and sanitization (including personal hygiene) as probably the single most important factor in preventing death and sustaining sanity in the days immediately after Pinatubo’s eruption.

Maj Darrell Smith, USAF
Shaw AFB, South Carolina

Top

Military Ethics: The Dutch Approach—A Practical Guide edited by Th. A. van Baarda and D. E. M. Verweij. Brill (http://www.brill.nl), Plantijnstraat 2, P. O. Box 9000, 2300 PA, Leiden, Netherlands, 2006, 396 pages, $132.00 (hardcover).

Why do terrible humanitarian crimes happen during wartime? Why did American soldiers torture prisoners at Abu Ghraib Prison or rape a young girl and murder members of her family in Iraq? Why did apparently normal people participate in the killings in the Holocaust, the Bataan Death March, the My Lai Massacre, or the slaughter at Fort Pillow? More importantly, how can these crimes be prevented?

Preventing such transgressions is the reason for training in military ethics. Baarda and Verweij have edited a Dutch training manual on military ethics, writing or cowriting nine of its 16 chapters. Developed from a practical training guide, the manual is time-tested and credible. Specifically written for the Dutch military, the book offers examples and principles that apply equally well to other military forces. American military personnel will recognize the concepts of command responsibility, proportional force, necessity, and humanity; they are already familiar with considering military codes of conduct.

Although American readers will learn much from Military Ethics, military members from any nation will find it especially useful for creating or teaching an ethics training program. The real-world examples come from a wide range of military and humanitarian operations conducted by many different militaries.

The examples and chapters are specifically written for the different Dutch military services and for members of many professions who have independent ethical standards, such as doctors, social workers, and other medical specialties. Other chapters consider the problems of command, ethical leadership, reasons for abandoning or ignoring ethical principles, and ways of helping troops maintain their ethical standards.

The many chapters allow specific discussions of professional ethical conflicts. When doctors’ medical ethics conflict with their military ethics, how do they resolve difficult problems? Can confidential counselors or social workers effectively help people if they must also turn in soldiers who have committed a crime?

In addition to specific examples and discussion questions, the book includes 24 photographs, two drawings, and 13 charts. The photographs help make the manual more relevant since they show real people and real ethical problems. The charts prove especially helpful in explaining the ethical analysis used to consider problems.

The most important ethical analysis in this manual focuses on the role of commanders. The chapter on command responsibility explains the specific reasons that people lose their sense of morality through “moral disengagement.” People may create a new justification for their actions, shift responsibility, blame the victim, ignore the real consequences of their actions, or use another tactic to commit terrible crimes. The chapter discusses the proper command response to each tactic and uses real-world cases to illustrate key points.

This book maintains a wonderful balance between the instructional, analytical text and the numbers and types of examples. The latter will help military members and other readers fully understand the analysis and importance of preventing crimes against humanity.

Anyone interested in this subject will enjoy Military Ethics: The Dutch Approach—A Practical Guide. I strongly recommend that commanders read it so they can help instill and maintain morality and responsibility throughout their commands.

Maj Herman Reinhold, USAF, Retired
Athens, New York

Top

Dictatorship of the Air: Aviation Culture and the Fate of Modern Russia by Scott W. Palmer. Cambridge University Press (http://us.cambridge.org), 32 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10013-2473, 2006, 328 pages, $40.00 (hardcover).

Scott Palmer’s Dictatorship of the Air is a unique, scholarly work that thoroughly explains the cultural threads of Russia’s pre-1945 aviation history. The book is organized into three primary areas: imperial aviation before 1917, origins and institutions of the postrevolution air fleet to 1929, and Soviet aviation under Stalin until 1945. The book is the product of a decade of Dr. Palmer’s research, including his frequent personal study in Russia and extensive consultation of primary sources. Dictatorship of the Air is most certainly successful in its comprehensive coverage of early Russian/Soviet aeronautical progress, if slightly less so in fulfilling part of its ambitious subtitle, “. . . and the Fate of Modern Russia.”

The book’s strength derives from its depth of research in an era of Russian aviation seldom addressed and from the skillfully woven threads between technological progress and national culture. Along the way, Palmer relates accounts of heroic aviators of the day (generally not well known or remembered by an American/Western audience), their aircraft (e.g., Russian Warrior, Il’ia Muromets, ANT-3 Proletariat, ANT-14 Pravda, and ANT-20 Maxim Gorky), and their notable feats (such as distance records and transpolar flights). Documentation begins with the seventeenth-century legend of a “Russian Icarus” and covers in considerable detail both the actual achievements and exaggerated glorification of the nation’s early aviation history.

The author concedes that in early twentieth-century Russia, arousal of the popular imagination and public air-mindedness by aerial feats was not entirely unlike that in Europe. But, most particularly in Russia, government and citizenry alike “saw the airplane as a sign of things to come . . . key to Russians’ dreams of modernity” (p. 282). Progress in aviation was seen as “a portent of national progress and pride,” “a sign of the future,” and “an instrument for collectively liberating the nation from the constraints of its past” (p. 6). Yet, the author points out that across time, compared to the West, “twentieth-century Russia failed early and often” (p. 286).

This contention might be validated, considering Russia’s repeated, early reliance on the West for technology; the initial collapse against Germany in 1941; and the state’s eventual economic decline and the fall of Communism. However, it may too easily dismiss modern Russian technological successes in both air (from early swept-wing jets to late-generation fighter aircraft, heavy-lift helicopters, and wide-body transports, just to name a few) and space (including Sputnik, Soyuz, unmanned explorers, and space-station support). In any case, the author generously supports his thesis, and the reader can judge from the detailed evidence offered.

Dictatorship of the Air is richly illustrated with photos of early Russian aircraft, aviators, and posters exhorting the virtues of aeronautics. An impressively researched and skillfully written work, it deserves a respected place among the literature of Russian aviation and culture.

Col John S. Chilstrom, USAF, Retired
Austin, Texas

Top

Top

Top

L’Ouarsenis: La guerre au pays des cèdres by Mohamed Boudiba. Editions L’Harmattan (http://www.editions-harmattan.fr/index.asp), 5-7 rue de l’Ecole Polytechnique 75005 Paris, France, 2003, 286 pages, 23 €.

Mohamed Boudiba, an Algerian lawyer and part-time historian, describes how the Algerian War of 1954–62 affected his native Ouarsenis region, a mountainous area known for its beautiful cedar trees. In 18 chronological chapters written in French, he presents the war as ordinary inhabitants experienced it.

Like most accounts of the Algerian War, this one is biased. The author clearly sympathizes with the Algerian Front de Libération Nationale (FLN) in its struggle for independence from France. He idealizes the FLN and its military wing, the Armée de Libération Nationale (ALN). Comments such as “the inhabitants of the hamlets lived in a true symbiosis with the ALN” (p. 80) may occasionally have been true, but the ALN levied heavy demands for support upon the Ouarsenis’s impoverished residents. Those who did not donate suffered the consequences. The author acknowledges that the FLN tortured people but suggests they did so because of French disinformation campaigns that used false “letters of the devil” to discredit FLN leaders. He also concedes that after the war, FLN members killed many Algerians who had served the French military. They even killed dogs that had guarded the pieds noirs (Europeans who had settled in Algeria). Finally, Mr. Boudiba blames the Si Salah Affair, an abortive peace negotiation between a few FLN leaders and President de Gaulle, on de Gaulle’s treachery. That episode is the subject of almost as many conspiracy theories as Pres. John F. Kennedy’s assassination, but the author does not mention alternative explanations.

The book relentlessly criticizes French colonial policies, compares the French to Nazis, and condemns them for environmental destruction. Decrying military efforts to control the Algerian countryside as reminiscent of medieval feudalism, the author portrays pieds noirs as arrogant outsiders who thought that “the enemy in that Algerian War is the population” (p. 111), implying a Nazi-like genocidal motivation rather than a political one. He castigates the French military’s use of collective punishments and torture as Nazi-like expedients that conflicted with France’s declared policy of spreading Western civilization. Contrasting the strict celibacy of FLN members with the debauchery of their Foreign Legion opponents, who included former Nazis and routinely patronized prostitutes, the author depicts Col Mesnière de Schacken, a French intelligence officer assassinated by the FLN, as the epitome of a villainous Frenchman. The colonel comes across as an archetypical, monocle-wearing Nazi who condoned institutionalized torture. Annoyingly, the book spells his name two different ways—even on the same page (p. 176). Mr. Boudiba’s vilification of the French Air Force for using napalm to deforest the scenic landscape may remind readers of American use of Agent Orange to defoliate Vietnam.

Mr. Boudiba’s narrative reflects airpower’s prominent role in the Algerian War during routine operations and the occasional combined-arms “steamroller” operations conducted by the French. His remark “True pointer dogs of the mountains, the [T-6] Piper-Cub became the partisan’s bugbear in this war” (p. 45) illustrates the importance of aerial reconnaissance. He makes simple observations, such as how French aircraft flew only by day, prompting the FLN to operate often at night, and how insurgents quickly dispersed after ambushes to ensure that French aviation would not have enough time to intervene. In one of his few elaborations on air operations, he lambastes the French for bombing towns into rubble, either as collective punishment after FLN attacks or as a way to depopulate areas in order to isolate the FLN from the population. Not surprisingly, he compares these operations to the notorious German bombing of Guernica in 1937, during the Spanish Civil War (p. 101).

Readers need to approach this work with caution. It is an interesting social history of warfare in the Ouarsenis from which military professionals can glean insights into the Algerian “human terrain,” but it offers few operationally relevant counterinsurgency tips. This account of counterinsurgency in a remote, mountainous, tribal region slightly parallels the current situation in Afghanistan, but readers should avoid exaggerating the similarities. The Algerians were fighting for national independence from colonial rule—a different political goal than the one the Taliban seek. Readers also need to be familiar with French and Algerian politics, culture, and jargon of the 1950s and 60s. The glossary of acronyms, though incomplete, helps in that regard. The bibliography also offers assistance, but the absence of footnotes complicates efforts to trace information back to its source. Nevertheless, L’Ouarsenis: La guerre au pays des cèdres is worth reading for historical context, provided one understands its biases and limitations. Indeed, the book reflects how completely the FLN’s influence operations shape Algerian attitudes to this day.

Lt Col Paul D. Berg, USAF
Maxwell AFB, Alabama

Top

Top

Top

Top

The Warrior Ethos: Military Culture and the War on Terror by Christopher Coker. Routledge (http://www.routledge.com), Taylor and Francis Group, 270 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016, 2007, 184 pages, $150.00 (hardcover), $35.95 (softcover).

With the US military increasingly involved in combat operations across the globe, the concept of a warrior ethos—generally defined as the professional attitudes and beliefs that characterize the service member—is getting increased emphasis among the armed services, including the Air Force. According to Gen T. Michael Moseley, former Air Force chief of staff, “the warrior ethos has always been a part of an Airman’s character, but some people may have lost sight of it.”

The warrior ethos is threatened in today’s world because the modern warrior is beset by technological, societal, and cultural challenges. Maintaining a warrior mind-set is becoming increasingly difficult in a battlefield characterized by sophisticated weaponry and in an environment that includes space and cyberspace. Moreover, Western society’s revulsion to all conflict is reflected in the current antiwar movement that protests military operations in Iraq but insists on supporting the soldiers. Finally, the warrior is asked to maintain a sense of honor in the face of an enemy who displays none.

Christopher Coker, professor of international relations at the London School of Economics (LSE), addresses these issues in The Warrior Ethos, published as part of the LSE International Studies Series. Through history, literature, philosophy, and the popular media, Coker examines the development of the warrior myth. For both good and ill, he continually refers back to both the Homeric and Platonic versions of Achilles as the warrior model, asserting that the warrior ethos is in decline.

The author contends that Western society’s distaste for war places the warrior in an untenable position. Today’s morality cannot permit honoring the warrior who, as with Achilles, may actually grow fond of the thrill of combat. Consequently, society must deal with the same dilemma that faces the antiwar crowd. How does one hate the war but love the warrior? The answer, according to Coker, lies in the media’s portrayal of today’s heroes not as modern-day Audie Murphys and Sergeant Yorks, but as victims in the style of the fictionalized Rambo or as real individuals, such as shot-down Air Force pilot Scott O’Grady and Army private Jessica Lynch.

The author further argues that the increasing use of technology, including virtual reality and unmanned weapon systems, is diluting the warrior spirit. He foresees technology bringing a dark future of robotics and chemical enhancements to the battlefield, which he fears will result in the warrior’s becoming more dispossessed of the sense of being engaged in combat and the sapping of the warrior’s free will. To Coker the essence of the warrior spirit is the ability of combatants to choose their own fate, and the modern battlefield threatens that choice.

Although he sees the romanticized version of the warrior in jeopardy, the author maintains that it is essential that today’s soldiers keep in touch with their warrior heritage, including honoring the enemy—a trait not found in terrorists. He fears that the frustrations of battling terrorism lead to a reliance on contractual legal mechanisms, as opposed to an unwritten moral covenant among warriors.

If one can find anything to criticize in Coker’s work, it is his analysis of modern-day terrorists and the warrior code. He concedes that warrior codes are largely cultural constructs but then views the terrorists almost completely through the lens of Western thought, citing little testimony from al-Qaeda or any other terrorist group. Nearly all of his support on terrorist attitudes comes from observations of Westerners, save for some historical context from Arabic chronicler Ibn Kahldun—dated seven centuries ago—and current terrorism training manuals.

Although never having known military life and combat firsthand, Coker does an admirable job of relating the experiences of warriors in both fictional and nonfictional terms. His thought-provoking analysis on the role of the warrior challenges the conventional thought in today’s military that all those who serve in uniform are warriors. He reserves the warrior moniker only for those directly involved in the fight and at risk. The imposing intellectual level of Coker’s book might scare off many in the armed forces—an unfortunate possibility because they would benefit most from this thoroughly insightful treatment of today’s military culture.

Dr. John Farrell
Maxwell AFB, Alabama

Top

The Prince: The Secret Story of the World’s Most Intriguing Royal, Prince Bandar bin Sultan by William Simpson. HarperCollins (http://www.harpercollins.com), 10 East 53d Street, New York, New York 10022, 2006, 496 pages, $32.50 (hardcover); 2008, 496 pages, $18.95 (trade paperback).

I must begin this review by admitting that I am not an avid reader of biographies. So I did not relish the task of reviewing the almost-500-page book The Prince. However, William Simpson’s biography of Saudi prince Bandar bin Sultan soon forced me to revise my opinion. The book was both readable and highly informative, tracing the life of a man who has been at the center of world affairs for three decades.

The Prince chronicles the life of Bandar through his various roles at the nexus of American and Saudi political life. Beginning when he was a fighter pilot, the book notes that the Saudi government tapped Bandar to facilitate sensitive arms negotiations between the United States and Saudi Arabia. This led him into a life of politics and intrigue during which he served in numerous capacities over the years. These high-profile roles included acting as a lead negotiator to end the war in ­Lebanon in 1982 and the Iran-Iraq War in 1988. He was also the “bagman” for the Iran-Contra deal, transferring American money to the Iranians during this controversial episode in American history. He was a decisive factor in convincing Soviet premier Mikhail Gorbachev to withdraw from Afghanistan, a key player in bringing allied forces to Saudi Arabia to repel Saddam Hussein after the first Gulf War, and an instrumental architect of the 1991 Israeli-Palestinian peace summit in Madrid. Bandar’s relevance continues into today’s politics. He served as a tireless advocate of his embattled country in the court of American public opinion after the terrorist attacks on 11 September 2001. And his credible skepticism of Saddam Hussein in the run-up to the Iraq war in 2003 helped the administration of George W. Bush make the fateful decision to enter Iraq to find elusive weapons of mass destruction. In essence, Bandar’s place at the center of world events makes this biography also a history of the modern Middle East.

Forewords by Nelson Mandela and Margaret Thatcher reveal the book’s gravitas. I was surprised to discover the close relationship between Mandela and the Saudi prince. Mandela—or Madiba, as he is affectionately nicknamed—remarried on his 80th birthday in 1998, inviting family and only a handful of friends, including the prince. The author was also able to secure interviews with such power players as former secretaries of state Colin Powell and Henry ­Kissinger, and part of what makes the book so interesting is to see how Bandar interacted with these players over the years. First meeting Secretary Powell when he served as an attaché years before, Prince Bandar would later interact with him when Powell was the US Army chief of staff during the 1991 Persian Gulf War and the secretary of state at the beginning of this decade. Similarly, the Bush family’s giving him the nickname “Bandar Bush”—signifying his status as an adopted relative—and George H. W. Bush’s frequent fishing trips with the prince have no doubt helped fuel conspiracy theories about the Bush family’s connections to the Saudis. One thing that clearly emerges from the book is the respect that Prince Bandar has for the senior President Bush. The former president’s character and kindness come through in many anecdotes related by the prince.

My main criticism of the work has to do with one of the main failings of the genre: a tendency to identify with and defer to the subject of the biography. William Simpson was Bandar’s classmate in military training in the United Kingdom, and the two have remained friends for years. Although this review makes clear that I am impressed with the prince’s credentials and accomplishments, Simpson’s portrayal seems to assign an almost uncritical preference for Bandar’s perspective and policy agenda. Nonetheless, The Prince is well written and well researched—and currently the only biography of Bandar. Military professionals and members of the national security community will find it a worthwhile read, especially given the conflicts of our time.

Matthew J. Morgan
Atlanta, Georgia

Top

Disclaimer

The conclusions and opinions expressed in this document are those of the author cultivated in the freedom of expression, academic environment of Air University. They do not reflect the official position of the U.S. Government, Department of Defense, the United States Air Force or the Air University.