Читать книгу The Handy Military History Answer Book - Samuel Willard Crompton - Страница 8
ОглавлениеHans, Tommy, Ivan, and Joe gather round the table to discuss their memories of the Second World War. For men who are often talkative at home, they are rather quiet, humble even, as they begin to talk with others who had incredibly important experiences at the same time they did, albeit in the service of different nations.
Hans, who still has the long, lean lines of a German athlete, declares that his people never supported the idea of war with the rest of Europe; they voted for Hitler because this seemed the only way out of the Great Depression, which, in 1932, was pretty awful. Hans admits that he signed up too quickly for the German infantry, and that he might have done better to hold off. War fever in 1939 was powerful, however, and he says that he had the wish to accomplish what his father—and millions of other Germans—had failed to do in the First World War.
Everyone nods. They understand the power of parental influence quite well.
Tommy speaks next. Life has not been as good to him as it was to Hans: he moves slowly from the effects of both war wounds and arthritis. He shows no bitterness, however. Like Hans, he was very young when the Second Great War—as many Brits call it—began, and he had no hesitation about signing up. Early on, he had no bad feelings about the Germans, he says; it was only when he helped in the liberation of one of the death camps, in the spring of 1945, that he experienced incredible revulsion. For a long time he blamed Hitler and the Germans, he says, but viewing the world for the last fifty years, some thirty of them spent in retirement, has shown him that people everywhere are capable of cruelty and terrible deeds. The important thing, Tommy says, is to prevent them from having the means to accomplish such deeds.
This speech is not as universally acknowledged as the previous one, but everyone is very polite as they turn to Ivan to ask if he can comment. There’s a quiet respect in their voices, because they know that he—as a Russian—very likely witnessed unspeakable horrors to a great degree.
Ivan has bad words for Hitler and Mussolini, but he doesn’t think much better of Churchill and FDR. To him, all these leaders were savages who allowed the beast within humans to emerge and paved the way for the deaths of millions. He never had personal feelings against the Germans, he declares; rather, it was their system that he objected to. Everyone hums and nods their heads a little, and then Joe asks what Ivan thinks or feels about Josef Stalin.
The worst! Hitler was a raving lunatic, Ivan declares, and Mussolini and Churchill were cravens who let other people do their dirty work. FDR was a bit of a cold-blooded fellow, but Ivan would choose him over “Uncle Joe”—as Americans used to call Stalin—any day of the week. Ivan surprises his fellows by saying that when the Germans first invaded his country in June 1941 he welcomed them as liberators. That sentiment lasted about forty-eight hours and was destroyed by his witnessing acts of cruelty by the invaders. Thereafter, he fought valiantly for Mother Russia, he says, but never for Uncle Joe.
At this point the conversation turns in the direction of another Joe who sits at the table. The other three men ask him to express some of his thoughts, feelings, or beliefs.
Joe explains that he is reluctant to comment because he knows darned well that he’s a lucky fellow who escaped World War II without injury, living in what may just be the luckiest country in the world. He does have a question for his fellow veterans, however.
Given that Germany, Britain, and Russia were all so badly pounded during the Second World War, how is it that they look so darned well today, Joe asks? He remembers the end of the war rather well and can still close his eyes to see the wreckage. England, he says, looked like a large waste dump to the Allied armies, and Germany had hardly any houses left standing. He’s never been to Russia, Joe admits, but he’s seen photographs of the Ukraine and western Russia, both of which look as if they’re doing all right. What did his fellows and their societies do right in the years that followed World War II, Joe asks?
The other three almost trip over each other, so eager are they to answer the question.
* * *
Military history is a fascinating and complex topic, not least because there are so many angles of approach. When one examines D-Day, for instance, he or she can look at the battle from the viewpoint of the German defenders, viewing the enemy coming over the roaring surf, or from the vantage point of the Allied assailants, who beheld the solid land of Normandy, complete with the hedgerows that would give them so much trouble in the days ahead. And, thanks to modern technology, one can also “see” or imagine D-Day from above, using the photographs taken by Allied bombers and planes. And, of course, even when all this is accomplished, there is yet one more angle to consider: that of the civilians whose lives were altered on that day in June 1944.
So it has been through most of human history. The soldiers, warriors, and desperadoes do their work, prompted by generals, commodores, and chiefs of staff, and then we—those lucky enough to still be here—get to examine what took place. A mere 150 miles from Normandy lies another battlefield that produces all sorts of memories of Waterloo. Here, too, the modern observer can “see” the day through the eyes of the French assailants, the British defenders, or the Prussian latecomers. In each case, a certain choice is involved, and that choice inevitably colors what modern-day people see. Are we with Marshal Ney, as he leads those nine battalions of the Old Guard up the long, sloping hill? Are we with General Peregrine Maitland, whose 3,000 men have lain concealed in the grass for hours? Or are we at one with Marshal Blucher and his Prussians?
Two hundred miles west of Waterloo and one hundred miles north of the Normandy beaches exists another of the great clashes that made human history: the Spanish Armada. No battlefield exists because the Armada and its English opponents tossed and turned on the waves of the English Channel. This is one reason that naval history has never quite drawn as much attention as land-based battles. But when we think of the consequences of the Spanish Armada—and its failure—we are taken aback. That autumn of 1588 was one of the great hinge moments in human history, a time when everything seemed at stake.
No one planned it this way: that three of the greatest contests of the last 400 years should be in such close proximity to each other. Equally, no human brain devised a scheme by which the battles of the Old Testament should be so aligned, geographically speaking, with the modern-day wars between Arabs and Israelis. If any hand can be said to have “plotted” or “planned” it, this would be the hand of natural geography, which made the English Channel and the coasts of Holland, Belgium, and northern France such key strategic points. Land, water, and the vicissitudes of weather have played huge roles in many of the great contests of human history. Imagine, for example, if there had not been such a heavy fog over Manhattan Island in 1776, and George Washington had been unable to evacuate the Continental Army from Brooklyn. Imagine if an enormous flood in the Mississippi River delta had prevented the arrival of Admiral Farragut’s fleet? And, of course, the most significant of all: what if the weather report handed to General Dwight D. Eisenhower, on the afternoon of June 5, 1944, had been in error. One shudders at the potential consequences.
Because we need a handle for the frying pan that we call military history, let us set out a short number of words, each beginning with a consonant. Let these serve as the opener—not the conclusion!—to our discussion of how men—and sometimes women—have fought each other for thousands of years.
Men, Monarchs, Means, and Maneuver
At first glance this list may seem too short, but the human mind works better with short, punchy declarations than long lists. Let us use these words as the springboard into the topic.
Men, of course, are the great element of human warfare; they are perennially needed and often in short supply. Men make the difference, whether on the battlefield or in the strategy room. No matter how many computer simulations are used, or how many tactical schemes are created or abandoned, it still—nearly always—comes down to the men and women on the ground.
In our modern era, no one practices this human element better than the Israelis, whose defense force is second to none. Whether in the gathering of intelligence or the unleashing of an armored column, the Israelis know that 98 percent of everything depends on the people on the ground. Is he or she ready? Will he or she make the sacrifice, take the direct hit in order to gain time for his or her fellow soldiers? Successful modern states know that people cannot be removed from the formula; that, regardless of how many technical gadgets are deployed, the human mind, heart, and spirit always play the most significant role. It is as true in our time as in the era of the Vikings, when a few thousand Scandinavians terrorized much of Northern Europe by means of skill, intention, and will.
Monarchs are not much in the conversation these days. The only monarchy that is regularly in the news is that of Great Britain, and it often appears in the tabloids rather than the traditional news magazines. When we scan the entirety of human history, however, it is apparent that monarchs have sent more men into battle and war than any other type of leader. Presidents, prime ministers, and premiers may issue declarations of war, but they do not have the joint spiritual/political power of a king, queen, or emperor. Whether we consider the Great Khans of Mongolia, the kings and queens of the European nations, or David, Saul, and Jonathan of the Old Testament, we arrive repeatedly upon the importance of monarchs to military history. If one still has any doubts, he or she can simply whistle that marvelous tune “God Save the King.”
Means refers to virtually everything necessary to put the soldier or warrior on the field. This can be as routine as buttons for his outer coat, or as involved as special glasses and goggles for night fighting. Too often we forget the thousands of sacrifices made behind the lines in order that soldiers can accomplish their tasks. Means are surely one of the most important of all aspects of military history, but they can sometimes be overridden by a powerful will. Who, for example, believed that the American revolutionaries of 1776 had the means to combat the British Army and the Royal Navy? Who could have imagined that a few thousand English knights and longbowmen could bring down so many knights at the Battle of Agincourt? And, in perhaps the single greatest example, who would have dreamed that Mao Tse-Tung would outlast the Nationalist Chinese? Most true soldiers—as opposed to armchair generals—will readily say that they like the equipment, just so long as it does not get in the way of the experience.
Maneuver may sound basic, prosaic even, but a company or regiment that does not learn to march—and to do so in the most effective manner—will swiftly be beaten. From the first moments of what we in America call “Basic Training,” the soldier is trained to let his muscles react first and to let the mind catch up later. Maneuver, therefore, involves every kind of movement, from the humblest private soldier to the loftiest five-star general. The latter issues orders; the former executes them.
Who knows how many battles have been decided by the smallest maneuver? Who xiv knows how many profound miscalculations have been made because they were based on things such as “turn and march 40 steps to the right” or “turn and march 40 steps to the left”?
The Emperor Napoleon is not always the favorite of the modern reader. We learn, for example, that he was profligate with the lives of his men and that he abandoned them in Egypt. When it comes to compressing several of the important maxims into one brief sentence, however, Napoleon does it best: “An army marches on its stomach.”
And there we have it. An army, composed of people, performs maneuvers that often include long marches, and it does so at the command of its monarch, who was, in this case, Napoleon.
* * *
“We rebuilt from scratch,” Hans declares.
“We were determined to remake Old England, and make her better,” Tommy declares.
“Russia has been pounded many times, and she always comes back,” says Ivan.
Joe—who once was called GI Joe by his coworkers—shuts his eyes in admiration. He remembers the America of 1945, the incredible enthusiasm that existed, and the belief that Americans were the best at almost everything, whether the making of automobiles, the election of leaders, or the creation of the new suburbs that sprang up after 1946.
Deep down, Joe envies his three fellow veterans. The Second World War was a horrible experience for them and their societies, but they survived, endured, and—thanks in part to U.S. economic assistance—they eventually thrived. But it’s their incredible optimism about the future, their belief that their efforts will come to fruition—that a better world will be established—that’s what really compels Joe’s envy, as well as his admiration. It’s an odd thing for an American, a nation that was only established in 1776, but he feels strangely older, more mature than Hans, Tommy, and Ivan, and he’s not sure he really likes the feeling.
Joe thinks a few moments, and remembers a book he saw recently that directly challenged its readers, asking them if there were not some good things that came out of war. Though he’s not inclined to switch places with Hans, Tommy, or Ivan, he thinks it quite possible that his grandchildren—of whom he’s very fond—just might be willing to exchange places with the grandchildren of these men.
And then one of the best quotes he ever recalled comes back to Joe. He does not speak it aloud, but smiles gently, as he ponders Thomas Jefferson’s words, written in 1786: “The tree of liberty must be refreshed, now and again, with the blood of tyrants. It is their natural manure.” How odd that the Europeans, who’ve experienced so much tyranny over so many centuries, seem to know this better than his fellow Americans.
