Book Review: Infernal Cauldron - Stephen Walsh

I don't know why, but as a rule I don't usually go for books of this sort - glossy papered, picture heavy, slim A4 format hardbacks - I think it's cause I associate the format with 'history-lite' treatments of subjects. 

But I bought this book second-hand, without bothering to check the format, from an Amazon re-seller. I got it because, having recently read several books on Hitler's life and career - I have a couple on Stalin to read next [1] - and a couple on Barbarossa, I wanted to continue 'zooming in' in the Ostfront. And Stalingrad, the turning point of both Barbarrosa and, arguably, the whole European war, seemed like the obvious place to start. I also have the Antony Beevor Stalingrad book, which, rather worryingly, I'm not sure if I've read or not!

This is the whole of one of the images used in the montage on the cover.

Walsh's book starts with an introductory first chapter that sets out German aims and means in launching Barborossa, the Nazi invasion of Russia, before, in chapter two, focussing on the advance to Stalingrad. Three chapters then describe the three successive German assaults on Stalingrad, that would eventually lead to the Germans occupying the (by then) bombed out shell of the Russian city that was named for the terrifyingly powerful Soviet leader. 

Chapters six and seven describe the Russian operation Uranus, and the Caucasus campaign, which culminate in the isolation and encirclement of Paulus' 6th Army, whilst chapters eight to ten describe, first, the moment when the fate of 6th Army hung in the balance (to break out? to be reached by relief from their own side? airlifts? to fight on?), then their annihilation/surrender, and finally the aftermath.

This pic, showing a crowd of German POWs after the Russian's recaptured Stalingrad, is in the book. The infamous grain elevator is in the background.

Walsh ably describes the war of wills that took place between Hitler and Stalin, also highlighting how, for all that both were brutal paranoid dictators, Stalin and the Russians triumphed not just because of a better match between means and ends (a recurrent them of Walsh's analysis of this titanic battle) on the Russian side, but because both Stalin and his commanders and troops proved flexible, evolving to meet the developing situations. 

In stark contrast Hitler's 'iron will', and his increasingly isolationist position in relation to the 'professional' German military leadership, meant that he refused to be flexible in his responses, the German forces became a monolithic and unchanging agent, the 'blunt instrument' if you like, of his 'will'.

Stalingrad... reduced to a sparse 'forest' of chimney-stacks. This pic isn't in this book.

In fact, if anything, Hitler had a retrograde evolution, trading down from the former triumphs of a war of manoeuvre, in which German troops continually isolated and then destroyed or captured Russian forces, in numerous Kesselschlacht (or 'cauldron battles'), and allowing the Russians to force him into an attritional head-on conflict, where the mobility that had brought so many triumphs was neutralised, and his own forces were ultimately sacrificed in an 'infernal cauldron' of their own.

Russian troops in action in the gutted city.

Walsh, a member of the Sandhurst faculty at the time of this books publication - I don't know if he still works there? - is a military authority of some professional standing (apparently he's been on TV as well, though I don't believe I've seen him in that capacity). I was somewhat surprised, in light of this, to find numerous picture captions making what seemed to me like rather basic errors, such as when a pic of two machine gunners is described as a single machine gunner, or Russians are described as sheltering beneath a Russian tank when it's clearly a German tank, etc.

Another pic that is in this book: a German soldier pays the ultimate price. Is this a genuine or a staged picture?

The picture captioning is a relatively minor niggle. More fundamentally, it's quite confusing trying to follow all the factual descriptions, of units, commanders, and geography. This is a frequent problem in narratives of military campaigns. Indeed, it's an area where the requirements of the subject frequently seem to be in a kind of conflict with the medium of writing. Clausewitz's book on the 1812 Russian campaign, for example, is, in my view, an awfully turgid read in the first section, where he does what Walsh does a lot of throughout practically all of this book, which is to, more or less, simply list the facts of the troop movements and engagements.

Paulus and staff surrender (this pic's not in the book).

However, it's far from all being bad news, as aspects of Walsh's analysis are very perceptive. What he says, perhaps too often for my liking (though it does bear repeating, in light of the German repetitions of the mistake) about the disparity between German ends and means is absolutely true. So also are his observations about the key differences between Russian and German evolution: the Russians did, and won, the Germans didn't and lost.

In terms of literary verve and clarity, this left something to be desired. But in terms of factual content and astute observation, it's excellent. It's also copiously illustrated, which is of course useful for us wargamers and modellers. There are also several maps, and even some interesting aerial surveillance photos. Whether I already read it or not, I think I'll go to Antony Beevor's Stalingrad next, as I imagine (I seem to be coming down on the I haven't read it line!), based on recently reading Ardennes, 1944, that it'll be rip-snorting good read.

This photo (a variant of which does appear in the book) was taken at Kursk, the last major German offensive on the Ostfront... So, not going so well, eh, 'Fritz'?

This post also found me finally getting around to developing a WWII scoring graphic equivalent to my 'Boney's Bicorne' system, for the Napoleonic era: as it's a very distinctive emblem, and not quite as contaminated as the swastika, not to mention that most of my interests lie in and around the German military machine, I've gone with the Balkankreuz, as used on tanks and planes, etc. I've also decided to add 1/2 scores, because this book didn't excite me enough to give it four, and wasn't so bad as to only merit three, so three and a half 'kreuz it is!

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NOTES:

[1] What is it, exactly, that makes such monstrous dictators so compelling as subjects to read about? Well, I guess, at least in part, it is their very monstrosity!

Book Review: The Boys Book of Airfix - Arthur Ward

I was loaned this book by a friend - thanks Bernie - after confessing the 'shame' (only kidding) of my return to childhood pastimes. It turns out he collects Hornby and other HO/OO railway stuff. Obviously Bernie and I are the exact demographic to which this book's subtitle - Who Says You Ever Have To Grow Up? - is addressed!

After sitting on the book - not literally of course (don't worry Bernie!) - for rather too long, I thought I'd better actually read it, instead of just looking at the pictures every once in a while. It turned out a very quick and easy read, partly on account of the fact that there's so much visual content. If work hadn't intervened it'd certainly have been possible to read the whole thing in one day, if not perhaps one sitting (numb bum!).

Above, two of the Airfix kits my dad made; a big influence on me as a kid!

Author Arthur Ward had already written a book on the history of Airfix (Airfix: Celebrating 50 Years of the Greatest Modelling Kits Ever Made), and is an obsessive collector and self-confessed Airfix nut. So, he's well qualified for the task he undertakes. The book itself is both a celebration of Aifix and its products, a history of the company, and a visual compendium of Airfix related material.

The founder of Airfix, Nicholas Kove, was something of a rum old cove. Known for his volatile temper, he had roved around Europe trying all sorts of ideas out, mostly to do with exploring lapsed patents, and increasingly focussed on the new technologies around plastics. Finally settling in Britain, he eventually settled on the name Airfix, initially producing all manner of products, amongst the most successful of which were such things as combs, items for the war effort, and sundry novelty/toy type items.

I believe I owned this set at one point. How I wish I still had it!

Not exactly a charming man, he was ultimately judged - by the bank - to be a liability to his own business. When he died, in 1958, the company was thriving, but he had relinquished control, and they were still in the early days of moving into the model kit territory with which the name Airfix subsequently became inseparable. 

Walsh mentions that this - when a particular brand ends up loaning its name to a generic product (Hoover is the perfect example) - is, according to the standard 'wisdom' of current business thinking, not a good thing. Walsh suspects that Kove would've nevertheless liked the fact that Airfix would become a byword for 'plastic model kits'.

One of the older Airfix logo variants. Stylish!

There are seven chapters, plus appendices:

Assembling Airfix - Nicholas Kove and the founding of the company, and it's passage through WWII.

Boxing Clever - Airfix and their ranges grow; HO/OO is established (railways and historic figs).

Boom Times - the '60s certainly swung for Airfix, albeit not in the flower power way; Airfix Industries thrives.

Airfix Takes On The World - even better for business than the '60s: five new kits a week!

Trouble Looming - as Thatcher dismantles the UK's industry, Airfix is taken over by U.S. corporate giants.

A Brush With Humbrol - Humbrol and Airfix (so long teamed in the hobby anyway) become involved commercially.

Chocks Away - Hornby buys Airfix. 

Appendices - these include a complete list of Airfix kits (from 1952 to 2009), and a few other it's and bobs.

For us hobbyists, the earlier and middle chapters are, perhaps (and certainly for me), the more interesting ones. I must admit that all the stuff about changing ownership and boardroom battles was, frankly, not only not very interesting, but actually rather depressing. But then I'm not much of a capitalist.

One of Roy Cross' beautiful box a/w paintings (not being much of an aviation buff I don't know what 'bird' this is!?).

Like Walsh, I love the classic box art of certain periods. The earliest kits came in what Alan Bennett has described - in referring to something else - as 'plain utility packets', after which came some rather simple and stylised graphics (nicely designed with a certain period charm) that adorned the 'plastic bag' phase, before such artists as Roy Cross and Brian Knight started to adorn the classic boxes with their terrific artworks.

As much as I enjoyed some of this book - the pictures perhaps most of all - this is, for me, a strangely mixed bag: sure I love the pics, and even some of the history of the company, especially in the early and middle period, is quite interesting (especially where there's an element of personal passion between those involved in the products origination and their subjects, i.e. the kits or figures). The latter part of the book, where it becomes more about corporate buy-outs and business speak, loses my interest.

Another of these nostalgia boom titles.

This does make scoring the book tricky: certainly it's well done - thorough and comprehensive, etc. - and the pictorial elements in particular score highly for me. But despite my own near overpowering nostalgia, which includes a soft spot for Airfix, the issues of the singular focus on Airfix, and the corporate history, detract somewhat from my overall enjoyment. 

I found Harry Pearson's more wide-ranging book, Achtung Schweinehund, a much more satisfying and enjoyable read, and had hoped this book would somehow be more along those lines. But it's a different kind of beast. So, worth reading, but I'm glad I only borrowed a copy. And I'm less sure now whether or not I'll buy that book about ESCI that I was considering buying!

Book Review: Clisson & Eugenie - Napoleon Bonaparte

An interesting little historical curio. Gallic Books have done all of us Napoleonic buffs a great service in making this foray into the literary milieu, by a very young Napoleon Bonaparte, easily available. It's also very attractively presented, and supplemented by critical and historical commentary.

Reading this product of the young Napoleon's imagination is both fascinating and informative, in all manner of ways. But, as others have already noted elsewhere (in the newspaper reviews, and reader reviews at Amazon, etc.), the Clisson and Eugénie story itself is a rather slight affair, of about only 18 or so pages, and was never even actually finished by Napoleon. 

This slim paperback edition attempts to 'complete' the story, using several fragments of Bonaparte's writings and, as already mentioned, is bulked out by critical commentary and other notes.

The younger Désirée Clary (or Bernardine Eugénie Désirée Clary, to give her name in full), who Napoleon fell in love with, and was even engaged to, and who gives her name to the female lover in Napoleon's story.

Clisson and Eugénie's main themes are love and war, themes that would remain central in Napoleon's real historical life. But, rather sadly perhaps, Bonaparte's treatment of these ever-fascinating themes in a literary context does not achieve, or even come close to in my estimation, great literature. Still, the story does give an intriguing view into the mind of this amazing man.

It's clearly draws on aspects of his real life: the central character, Clisson (a name taken from a childhood colleague) is a military man, and yet also a yearning romantic, and clearly stands for Napoleon. The story, such as it is, concerns his struggle between choosing to love Eugenie, and his mission to be a warrior. 

It's intriguing that in his real life he would, by marrying Marie-Louise for example, do as his character in this story does, and prioritise the 'destiny' of his career over personal love. Is this life imitating art? Certainly Napoleon viewed himself like a classical hero, a fact borne out in both this book and his actual career.

Whilst the feel of the story is quite pseudo-classical at times, in the sense of aspiring to certain heroic ideals, much of it is also, both stylistically and thematically, quite mundane. One of the prosaic facets is the way in which Napoleon takes names such as Eugénie and Clisson from his real life experience.

In his story Napoleon grants himself a period of pastoral idyll with his beloved. This rather expands upon the barer and more mundane truth of the frustrated or compromised romance he actually had with one Desirée Eugénie Clary. 

She was his sister-in-law, via the marriage of her sister, Marie Julie Clary, to Napoleon's elder brother, Joseph. Napoleon was actually engaged to her for a while, only breaking off the engagement to marry Joséphine de Beauharnais. Fortune certainly appeared to favour the Clary sisters at this time! Ultimately fickle fate favoured Desirée most of all, as she wound up Queen of Sweden, starting a dynasty that survives to the present.

Queen Desideria, or the lady formerly known as Désirée Clary, who did rather well for herself by marrying Charles XIV John of Sweden, or the man formerly known as Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte. 

As Andrew Roberts continually points out in his recent book Napoleon the Great, Bonaparte certainly was a man of letters, at least in one respect; his correspondence was volcanically prodigious. But despite several stabs at literary genres, including this effort and an even earlier entry for an essay competition, he never really became what's classically meant by the term 'man of letters'.

If I were scoring this purely for historical interest, or even quality of presentation, I might well give it five bicornes. On the other hand, if I were scoring it for literary interest, merit, or enjoyment, then I would only give it two. So, by way of compromise and balance, I'll settle for three: it's okay! 

The way the text has been editorially 'completed' is quite intriguing; using a process akin to Christopher Tolkien's, as when he syncretised a superb completion of his father's tale about Hurin (and as he has done for numerous other unfinished works by his illustrious forbear, including The Silmarillion). But the core text is less interesting in and of itself, any value or fascination lying with the fact of who the author was, and what it therefore reflects about his mind and ideas, etc.

Napoleon dictating to Las Cases on St. Helena: he was always a keen dictater! And was always better at (never happier, perhaps?) dictating to others.

Some have said that Napoleon's greatest work of fiction (or works of fiction, as there are several post-Waterloo writings attributed to him, transmitted to posterity via the hands of other writers [2]) are his St. Helena memoirs. Certainly they make better and more substantial reading than this slight effort.

Anyway, whenever I would come across references to Clisson & Eugenie in other books, as one occasionally does, I always thought to myself, 'I must read that!' So I'm glad Gallic Books have made it easy to get hold of. But as to the text itself, compared with Napoleon's other achievements, or at least the history that he helped write via his actions, it's pretty disappointing. I'd say this is one for the most desicated of Napoleonic buffs only!

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NOTES:

[1] Bernadotte's life is amazing: he travelled a long and winding road, from private in the French royal army, via Marshal of France under Napoleon, to King of Sweden. Indeed, the House of Bernadotte still reigns in Sweden!

[2] These works include memoirs by several close to Napoleon in his last years on St. Helena, including both Bourienne and Las Cases. The former's rendering of his master's memoirs can be read for free online, at Project Gutenberg:

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/3567/3567-h/3567-h.htm

There's also a useful and (I think) quite attractive paperback - country cousin to a de-luxe fine book edition - in which 'editor Somerset De Chair organized Napoleon's random dictated memoirs into an historically useful sequence' (that quote comes from an AbeBooks listing). I have that on my 'to read ASAP' shelf, and will doubtless post a review here when I do finally get round to reading it!

Book Review: Battle Maps of the Civil War - Richard O'Shea & David Greenspan

In this book the fabulously haunting and evocative ACW battlefield maps of David Greenspan, previously published in Bruce Catton's Picture History of the Civil War, are - and very deservedly so - given pride of place.

As a child I saw, somewhere - I thought it was in issues of National Geographic, but my researches suggest I'm mistaken about this - and ultimately became haunted by, the incredible ACW battlefield maps of David Greenspan.

Spotsylvania (what great names these ACW battles have!).

Greenspan's maps describe 17 or 18 of the major battles (or in some instances series of battles) of the ACW, shown in a kind of 3/4 aerial view (almost isometric, only they are in perspective), depicting beautifully painted landscapes populated with tiny armies of grey Confederates and blue Unionists. All the component elements are simplified and stylised, and on close inspection one learns that each artwork synthesises and compresses a whole battle or series of engagements into one image.

This, by Robert & Mary Nicholson, is one of the NG images that had me barking up the wrong tree, in my search for the Greenspan maps.

It's supremely well done, and has spawned much imitation (from people like Robert & Mary Nicholson in National Geographic's centennial articles on the ACW, to more recent works by Schlecht and Kammerer, even influencing the graphics of military computer games), as well as promoting much interest in the subject it so evocatively portrays.

I tried to learn more about David Greenspan, with little success. This book and Catton's Picture History are the best testimony to what I feel is a near sublime talent. I can't easily put into words the terrific impact his battlefield maps have had on me. Certainly they've been a big influence, as have dioramas and re-enactments, on my desire to collect and paint figures, build models, and wargame, etc.

Chickamauga, Greenspan style.

As already alluded to at the start of this post, these same 'battle maps' can be found in Catton's American Heritage Picture History. But this standalone extraction is perhaps marginally the better place to appreciate them, as the prints are fairly large, and they also are the main attraction here. Rather sadly one or two images suffer from a little misalignment of the colour plates, which lessens the clarity (at least in my copy). But they do at least occupy centre stage, supported by their original captions, and also the additional texts of Richard O'Shea.

As well as Greenspan's artwork, there are also paintings by Don Troaini, aerial photos of the battlefields, more conventional symbol-based maps, and numerous photos, etc. O'Shea's texts give broader historical narrative context, and add detail on the featured battles and campaigns.

This is a wonderful book, chock-full of some pretty sublime artwork, by a great and elusive artist and draftsman, who proves himself to also be both an effective educator and inspirer. I really can't praise his work enough!

Book Review: The Passing Of The Armies - Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain

NB: Currently I'm too busy with several strands of work to be modelling or painting figures, alas. In the meantime, posting some book reviews is one way I can maintain some sort of activity on ye olde blogge!

Stirring stuff from a University professor who, according to legend, proved that a 'textbook manoeuvre' can sometimes work in the field.

I bought and read this book (in the Eyewitness To The Civil War edition pictured above) shortly after watching the DVD set of Ken Burns' excellent historical PBS TV series, Civil War [1].

Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain

In that terrific series of documentary films (nearly 12 hours over nine episodes) stories about and quotes from Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain figure fairly prominently at several points. Some of the most memorable quotes come from this particular account, including a very poignant and moving passage about the surrender of the Confederate forces at Appomattox, during which Chamberlain had the honour of commanding the Union contingent.

The last four days of the ACW come to an end at Appomattox. This is where Chamberlain would have accepted the Confederate surrender. This map - which I don't think mentions Chamberlain specifically? - from the April 1965 issue of National Geographic magazine, haunted me for years! [2]

Chamberlain had been an academic prior to the outbreak of the Civil War, and his prose is somewhat grandiose at times, which dates the feel a little. But overall he's an excellent writer, coming across as intelligent and humane, with a very 19th Century sense of martial honour. Chamberlain can get quite poetic, such that his account is almost rhapsodic in places, his intelligence and even his dry sense of humour shining through in a highly engaging narrative.

The 'hinge' of the 'gate' that Chamberlain swings shut, to great - perhaps even decisive? - effect, as depicted in the movie Gettysburg.

Subtitled An Account of the Final Campaign of the Army of the Potomac, Chamberlain relates the actions of White Oak Road and Five Forks, as Lee's shrinking army is brought to bay, before ending with a near Homeric rendition of the surrender at Appomattox. It's quite hard to convey to the modern reader the intoxicating romanticism of his writing, when, after two world wars and the knowledge of so much brutality and suffering we might find it hard to stomach such a 'heroic' tone. But Chamberlain wasn't sentimental, he saw and lamented the cost.

Jeff Daniels was perfectly cast as Chamberlain in the excellent movie Gettysburg, capturing the attractive qualities one also detects in Ken Burns documentary, many history books, and Chamberlain's own accounts, of a sensitive intelligent man, who managed also to be an inspiring and decisive military leader without sacrificing his humanity. I think I need to find a good biography of this intriguing man next. But I'd certainly recommend this fascinating and moving account very highly.

One of a number of wargaming figures of JLC that are out there. I forget who makes this one... hmm?

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NOTES:

[1] Further links re that superb series:
wikipedia - The Civil War (TV series)
for sale at Amazon UK - Civil War (Commemorative Edition) DVD

[2] I posted about this subject, which turned out to be (or should that be 'turned into'?) a quest for the ACW 'battle maps' of David Greenspan,  here.

Book Reviews: Cavalie Mercer's Journal of the Waterloo Campaign (abridged and complete editions)

The memorial to Mercer and G troop RHA, at Waterloo, on the right of the British line, towards Hougoumont.

Cavalie Mercer (source: wikimedia commons)

On our recent trip to Belgium - with Teresa (my stalwart wife!) - I took along several books, one of which was Cavalie Mercer's journal, in an abridged edition. Despite some issues with this book (which I'll address in due course) I loved it, and it made seeing the memorial to him on the battlefield truly moving. We think we spotted 'Paxo' nearby, and he was moving to!

Jeremy Paxman (photo: Christopher Thomond, source)

When we got back, so much had I loved the abridged account, that I had to buy and read the full version. Both are printed by Pen & Sword, and both are lavishly illustrated. But beyond those similarities, and the obvious fact that both draw from the same rich well, they are quite different in one or two important respects.

The Pen & Sword abridged edition (introduction by Bob Carruthers)

The first thing I feel I ought to say is that Cavalié Mercer's memoirs are undoubtedly five-bicorne material: Captain Calvalié Mercer, who commanded G Troop of the Royal Horse Artillery in Wellington's rag-tag but victorious Allied army at Waterloo, wrote a terrific account of his experiences. The only reasons this gets just four of Boney's chapeau, and not the full five are, firstly, this is a very truncated rendering of his writings, and secondly, editorially this has been allowed to go to press littered with typos, of the sort that suggest the use of text recognition scanning software (e.g. frequent instances of 'hi' where it should clearly say 'in').

Having said this, I nonetheless really enjoyed reading this book. Mercer was - aside from the annoying typos that were in no way his fault - the perfect literary companion for our jaunt across to Belgium for the Waterloo 200th. The short extracts used here begin with Mercer leaving England (including some references to some parts of East Anglia and Suffolk we know!), travelling by sea and land to Belgium, taking part in the rearguard actions following Quatre Bras (where he glimpses Napoleon!), fighting at Waterloo, and then wandering the battlefield in a quasi-Romantic reverie.

Mercer is great. He writes superbly, and if his account is to be trusted - and it smacks of authenticity - he was also a brave and conscientious (if, by his own ready admission, not always perfect) soldier. He's both proud of his troops, and simultaneously both sensitive and yet somewhat inured to war. Reading his accounts of Napoleonic warfare really brings home both the excitement and the horror of such conflict. Mercer himself emerges from his own story a thoroughly likeable and impressive young man. As mentioned above, my wife and I stood on the very spot - as denoted by the small monument pictured at the top of this post - which marks the final position Mercer's battery occupied (it moved around a  fair bit, being horse artillery), and where it did it's bloodiest work, between Hougoumont and the Charleroi road. Having only just read of his experiences made this a truly poignant experience.

There's some interesting parenthetical stuff by a Victorian gent (who's name escapes me at this moment), who Carruthers quotes at length in the intro, on the nature of military history, memoirs, and Mercer himself, which is a useful adjunct. There are also lots of pictures, which, being rather randomly strewn throughout, add to the feeling that they and the title - splashed across both sides of every spread - function as padding. Having read titbits from Mercer many times in many books, reading him more fully here was extremely enjoyable, even in spite of the awful typos that litter this book like the dead and wounded litter the field of Waterloo in Mercer's sanguine account.

Good reading for a weekend away: great material, shame about the typos. 

The Pen & Sword complete edition (introduction by Andrew Uffindell)

This is a great edition of an already brilliant story, which adds quite a lot to the memoir itself, including a biographical account of the whole of Mercer's life (placed before rather than after the Journal itself). Having read the abridged version of Mercer's memoir whilst visiting Waterloo, I was keen to read the full story. In reviewing this a second time I may repeat myself a little. Please forgive/indulge me!

Starting in England, the narrative of his journey to Belgium is as exciting and interesting as the battle itself. The sea-crossing and subsequent travels through various Belgic billets are all fascinating, described with an eye for detail that's as artistic as it is military. Once the conflict gets underway, Mercer and his troop arrive on the scene at Quatre Bras just in time to perform a very exciting stint of rearguard duty, during which - as the elements do battle as ferociously as the human and equine actors (oh, and there's even an unfortunate pig!) - he catches a sublime glimpse of Napoleon himself, sitting his horse atop a hill bathed in sunshine, whist Mercer and his guns are in the deep shade of ink black storm clouds.

Throughout this story, but especially at Waterloo itself, Mercer comes across as very brave, if not perhaps as experienced as some of the other RHA Captains (he confesses to numerous mistakes he makes at various points, mostly logistical stuff, and not at Waterloo itself, fortunately), many of whom were Peninsular veterans. He incurs both the praise and censure of Wellington, a subject which he is clearly a trifle touchy about (this theme is enlarged upon in the extra biographical content). Is this one of the reasons he never published his memoirs, perhaps? They were eventually published by his son, with little or no editorial intervention. Andrew Uffindell is clearly proud, and rightly so, of his part in seeing this superb account finally getting the editorial and supporting scholarly research attention it so richly merits.

The complete painting of Wellington at Waterloo, by Hillingford, from which the fuller version of Mercer's journal gets its cover image. (source: wikimedia commons)

The part that deals with the battle of Waterloo itself is terrific: detailed, exciting, colourful, and humane. Mercer gets over the terrible carnage - G Troop certainly did their duty in ensuring that the French 'butchers bill' was awfully high - and confusion of battle, including feelings of guilt at his own losses, and instances of 'friendly fire', extremely vividly. The period after the battle, as Mercer and the Allied and Prussian armies make for Paris, is equally fascinating, revealling much of great interest regarding those 'behind the scenes' aspects of campaigning that most popular or scholarly accounts of campaigns such as this usually gloss over or ignore.

Towards the end of the narrative Mercer gets leave to go home. Visiting his wife, she begs to return with him, and (against his counsel) does so. Mercer ultimately sees out his involvement in the campaign in company, with his wife's needs adding to the complexities of his own logistical billeting difficulties. The intensity and detail of his account peters out a little towards the end, but overall this is a remarkably rich and involving account of one of the world's most written about campaigns and battles.

This edition benefits form copious quantities of maps and illustrations, alongside plenty of editorial interjections that further elucidate numerous pertinent points. The biographical detail on Mercer at the start of the book is great as well, and there's more additional matter at the end. The abridged version was somewhat spoiled by an abundance of egregious typos. Thankfully the editorial care taken here is of an altogether different and much higher order.

Essential reading this, for the Napoleonic history nut in general, and the Waterloo obsessive in particular. I'm glad I read both versions. The longer of the two would've perhaps been too much for our brief Waterloo 200 trip, but of the two it's by far the better.

Book Review: Trafalgar, The Nelson Touch - David Howarth

Wow, what a story! 

The age of sail - when sail was the main or only method of traversing the high seas - grows ever more romantic as it recedes further into history. David Howarth, whose superb Waterloo, A Near Run Thing, is the kind of book to inspire a lifelong passion for Napoleonic history, proves just as adept at bringing the naval war of this now distant epoch to vivid and colourful life, in this excellent slim but compelling volume on Nelson's memorable victory at Trafalgar. This is perhaps not entirely surprisingly, as Howarth was himself a naval officer, helping run the famous 'Shetland Bus' during WWII.

The sad fates of the two opposing commanders, Britain's heroic and much admired Nelson, and France's tragic and much maligned Villeneuve, illustrate very well how real history sometimes combines both mythic grandeur and epic tragedy. Nelson is, perhaps, as close as we can come in Britain to having a man as charismatic and effective in leadership as Napoleon. Wellington was of course effective and popular, but he didn't have the same public charisma as either Napoleon or Nelson. But where Nelson excelled in this watery world, Napoleon, usually so prodigiously capable, appears at his least able when it comes to maritime matters. 

Vice Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson, by Lemuel Francis Abbott

Of course, Nelson's part in this story is exciting and compelling in itself, and has often been treated in various media. But Howarth skilfully weaves this most famous strand of this famous and many threaded story together with numerous others, including Villeneuve's, and those of many other senior figures of all three nations, British French and Spanish. He also describes the navies themselves, and the contexts they fought in, even imparting sketchy views of the lower ranks (about whom, at the time Howarth was writing - and perhaps still? - very little was known). 

The whole is superbly put together, flowing very smoothly, moving the happy reader along much like a favourable wind in one's sails! Howarth skilfully builds his narrative, with the gentle yet unstoppable inevitability of an ocean swell, towards the longest chapter, The Battle, which describes a messy and confusing naval action with impressive simplicity and clarity. This is so well done that once I reached this section I found it extremely hard to put the book down. Indeed, as near as was possible, I read straight through to the end. It was a moving and exhilarating read.

For victors and vanquished alike, far from a quick and peaceful cessation of travails, after the confusion and intensity of this most famous of naval battles - the metaphorical storm, if you like - came the literal storm. This week-long maritime hurricane was, according to those that survived it, even more challenging than the battle itself. Howarth describes this superbly too, ultimately following the story beyond this to the funeral of Nelson and the rather shady and politically convenient demise of Villeneuve, during his return from British captivity.

Admiral Villeneuve.

The latter left no issue to suffer any subsequent ignominy. Nelson, although married, is famed for his relationship with his beloved mistress, Emma Hamilton, by whom he had a daughter named Horatia. Their fate - only very vaguely alluded to in this brief narrative - balances the scales of tragedy somewhat, across the channel. 

The sacrifices of this savage naval battle are thrown into yet starker relief due to the fact that even before Nelson (and so many other mariners of numerous nationalities) made the ultimate sacrifice, Napoleon had turned away from the cross-channel invasion project based at Boulogne, learning of the naval disaster as he trounced his foes on the road that lead to Austerlitz.

Like Howarth's book on Waterloo this is a fabulous read, and one that could easily seed a lifelong passion for warfare in the age of sail. It's great that HMS Victory has been preserved. Having read this I must go and see her for myself! As a result of reading this wonderful book I also want to read further in this area: I have several appropriate titles lined up. Just got to find the time to read 'em!

Above, the complete painting, by Auguste Mayer, a portion of which appears on the books dust-jacket. [1]

The old World Books edition that I bought, a 1970 reprint of the 1969 Collins 1st edition, is richly illustrated, with plenty of images - including portraits of most of the senior commanders, various naval scenes, some of the battle, some more general (mostly in black and white, with a few double page spreads in full colour) - and even some simple but helpful maps of the unfolding action. 

The one glaring omission is a glossary of nautical/naval terminology. For us landlubbers who don't know our port from our starboard, this would've been a most useful and obvious thing to include. Despite this I'm giving this five Boney's Bicornes: there will doubtless be more thorough and detailed books on this subject. But I doubt there will be many that are more readable or exciting.

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NOTES:

David Howarth.

Author David Howarth was an interesting man. With a naval background - during WWII one of his areas of service was as assistant to the British officer organising the famous 'Shetland Bus', whereby Britain helped keep the Norwegian resistance movement supplied and trained, etc. - he was not only an author on nautical subjects, but also a boat-builder, and his writings would extend to areas of land warfare, including his book on Waterloo, which I've also reviewed on this blog. Howarth's final book, written in collaboration with his son, was a biography of 'Britain's most famous Admiral', Nelson, entitled Nelson: The Immortal Memory, published in 1988. On the strength of the two Howarth books I've read so far, I'm very much inclined to track that down and read that as well.

[1] The beautiful painting is flawed: it shows the French Bucentaure, which was indeed at Trafalgar, engaged by the British ship Sandwich, which wasn't! Nonetheless, it captures the visual drama of warfare at sea in the age o' sail admirally, so to speak.

Book Review: Imperial Sunset - R. F. Delderfield

Novelist and Napoleonic history buff turns in a wonderfully readable account of the decline of Napoleon and his Empire.

Playwright turned author and amateur historian R. F. Delderfield was very clearly something of a latter-day Bonapartist. So far I've read three of his non-fiction books [1] on the Napoleonic era: this one, Napoleon in Love (subject = obvious!), and The March of the Twenty Six (subject = the Napoleonic Marshalate). They are all very, very good indeed. What is best about them, undoubtedly, is how readable and exciting they are. 

Delderfield's skills as a writer of fiction and drama are very evident throughout. His skills and credentials as a historian might perhaps be open to debate, and I have seen reviews criticising his favouring of excitement and atmosphere over scholarly exactitude. I must say, this doesn't bother me too much. There's plenty of other literature out there on Napoleonic subjects; one can do as Delderfield did, and read as much of it as possible and then make one's own mind up as to the 'facts'.

Looking suitably serious, this shot is used (facing left) on the rear of the dust jacket of my edition. [2]

Of the three Delderfield Napoleonic history books that I have read so far, this is probably the best. The story starts with the aftermath of the retreat from Russia in 1812. Delderfield's skills as a novelist enable him to set up a series of very vivid opening tableux, of Cossacks on the Elbe, in 1813, and garrison towns throughout the empire with wavering and divided loyalties. He skilfully describes the Coalition powers moving westwards as the French retreat, their crumbling alliances and stranded fortress outposts draining Napoleon's resources, such that though he fights with great skill and verve, there's a kind of inevitability to his gradual downfall. 

Delderfield draws on many contemporary accounts, making particular use of those by Marbot and Barrès. And he clearly admires Eugene, MacDonald and Caulaincourt, for their honesty and loyalty at a time when many, including such stalwarts as Ney and Murat were to eventually abandon the man who had helped raise them and so many others like them so high. The central story retains a resolutely central and western European theme, although Delderfield does continually refer to important developments in other theatres, such as Italy and Spain.

The author caught in more approachably avuncular mood.

One of the reasons I like this more than the other two Delderfield Napoleonic books I've thus far read - and I love them all - is that both of the other two above-mentioned works are kinds of 'group portraits', describing numerous individuals and their relations with Napoleon in his varied conquests. This one has a more satisfyingly focussed central narrative thread, telling as it does a very interesting and exciting story. 

It's intriguing that Delderfield, clearly a fan of Napoleon (but not an uncritical one), in covering the campaigns of this 'Great Captain' chose to write - at least in terms of his published historical works (and this observation is somewhat mitigated by the more extended coverage of his group portrait works) - only about the Russian campaign and its aftermath (he has a book about the the Russian campaign which I intrnd to read), rather than the glory days of his first 15 or so triumphant years. 

Consequently, and given his obviously pro-Napoleonic stance, there's something elegiac in the tone of this work, a mood he brilliantly captures in much of his Napoleonic writing, but especially poignantly at the close of this particular book, when he describes the ageing veterans of the Grande Armée growing old under other more peaceful but less 'glorious' French regimes.

Pictured above: Napoleon looking suitably glum, as he contemplates the sun setting on his 'glory'. This classic image of Napoleon was painted by Paul Delaroche, and depicts Napoleon at Fontainebleu, in 1814, capturing the both the period and the mood, as well as the siutter admirably.

Thomas Hardy was another writer of fiction obsessed with Napoleonic history, and this book exemplifies what he was getting at when he said 'My argument is that War makes rattling good history; but Peace is poor reading. So I back Bonaparte for the reason that he will give pleasure to posterity.' This book was difficult to put down, and was certainly a great pleasure to read.

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NOTES:

[1] He also wrote some Napoleonic fiction. I read Seven Men of Gascony in my mid-teens, and, whilst it is admittedly not 'Great Literature', like say for example Tolstoy's War And Peace, it certainly helped cement my love for the era. And it certainly qualifies under Hardy's definition, as a 'rattling good' read, and part of Napoleon's legacy of 'pleasure to posterity'.

[2] My copy was brought at a wargames from show, from (I think?) Paul Meekins, and is a Chilton Press 1968 1st edition. Vintage booksniffers... this was a good year: what a bouquet this old tome has!