Published works include
BOOK
Buttoned Up: American Armor and the 781st Tank Battalion in World War II.
BOOK REVIEWS
Paths of Fire: The Gun and the World it Made, Andrew Nahum.
Loss and Redemption at St. Vith: The 7th Armored Division in the Battle of the Bulge, Greg Fontenot .
Men of Armor: The History of B Company, 756th Tank Battalion in World War II, Jeff Danby.
Disaster on the Spanish Main: The Tragic British American Expedition to the West Indies during the War of Jenkins' Ear, Craig S. Chapman.
A Machine Gunner's War: From Normandy to Victory with the 1st Infantry Division in World War II, Ernest Andrews Jr.
The Origins of Surface-to-Air Guided Missile Technology: German Flak Rockets and the Onset of the Cold War
Proprietary Publications include narratives on personnel for the following units in World War II
1st Bn., 5th Marines, 1st Div.
Amphibious Tractor Battalions
USS Randolph (CV-15), CVG-12
3rd Armored Field Artillery Battalion, 9th Armored Div.
113th Cavalry (mechanized), 110th Observation Squadron, 17th Recon Squadron (Bomber)
124th Field Artillery, 33 Inf. Div.
3rd Bn. 35th Inf, 10th Mountain Div.
27th inf., 25th Div.
VC-38, USS Intrepid
Buttoned Up uses the experience of a GHQ Tank Battalion as a case study of the independent armored battalions attached to infantry divisions in the ETO. It examines the empirical battlefield experience at the tactical and operational level to assess the shortcomings in American armor doctrine.
Armor, The Professional Bulletin of the Armor Branch "This is a well-researched, highly detailed, fast-reading work. Complex subjects...are captured in a fluid writing style. This is a book that will appeal to a wide audience seeking to enhance their knowledge of a vital but often overlooked tactical asset of World War II."
Journal of America's Military Past "Author Robeson handles all of this narrative deftly. He is especially strong on technical detail, including tank design, weaponry, motive power, and equipment. This book is a great primer on U.S. tank doctrine and development in World War II..."
Stone&Stone, Second World War Books "Robeson's book packs a pretty good punch. Robeson blends the development of American armor and doctrine with the history of the unit in a manner providing an excellent appraisal of what US Army tank units faced..."
Journal of Military History
Paths of Fire: The Gun and the World it Made is a fascinating and unconventional history of the gun’s direct and indirect influence on society and science since the 16th century. Andrew Nahum does not seek to address pervading questions in any particular field. Instead, he provides a kaleidoscopic rendition of how the gun has influenced the other sciences, such as physics and psychology. The purpose of this engrossing book is Nahum's assertion that the greatest progress in technology occurs under the pressures of war or threatened wars (p. 222).
Andrew Nahum is the principal curator of technology and engineering at the Science Museum in London and has written extensively on the history of technology, particularly in aviation and automobiles. Nahum provides an engaging and thought-provoking examination that offers readers “snapshots” of how the evolution of powder and ball relates to manufacturing, computing, artificial intelligence, and geopolitics (p. 222).
Nahum commences his history of the gun by examining how ballistics afforded renaissance thinkers to scientifically critique classical and medieval theories of motion, as the cannon could do violent things to matter and elicit phenomena that had never been seen before (p. 15). Italian mathematician Niccolò Fontana Tartaglia published the first systematic treatise on ballistics, Nova scientia, in 1537. Nahum credits Tartaglia to being the first to truly upset Aristotelian soil, thus tilling the foundation for Galileo and Newton’s theories.
In his second chapter, Nahum engages with historian Simon Schaffer’s argument that Enlightenment thinking sought to divulge the secrets of craftsmanship to perpetuate the diffusion of knowledge. The chapter introduces readers to 18th-century French philosophers, gunsmiths, and engineers, such as Denis Diderot, Honoré Blanc, Jean-Baptiste de Gribeaubal, and Pierre-André Nicolas d’Angoult. It recounts their efforts to standardize production with the aid of government loans and conscription labor. As with many radical technical innovations," Nahum writes, "only weapons development seems to have the exceptional power to inspire the research needed and to underwrite the huge cost of such a speculative long-range project (p. 36). The U.S. government largely financed what was dubbed ‘the armory system” in America during the beginning of the 19thCentury. Nahum argues the American system of arms production was, in fact, a 'skill multiplier,' as precision tools, machines, and gauges required engineers to design them and skilled craftsmen to repair and maintain them. American arms production, backed by government subsidies, ushered in a new era of manufacturing standards and mass production, which were rapidly adopted by other industries and their leading producers, such as Singer Sewing Machine Company, McCormick Harvesting Machine Company, and Ford Motor Company.
Similarly, the remaining five chapters are dedicated to fascinating technologies and their tangential or peripheral relationship to the gun. Chapter three is essentially about the Royal Navy’s adaptation of the steam turbine, which proved to be a prerequisite to 15-inch naval guns. Those new guns required new fire control systems and required heavier armor protection. While technological advances solved technical dilemmas, they ran far head of command and control techniques (p. 95). Chapters four and five consider the development of anti-aircraft fire systems and range finding techniques, examining the various dilemmas of hitting a target in the air. Readers will enjoy the portraits of artillerymen, physiologists, and mathematicians, who created systems to overcome the complicated task of calculating enemy aircraft's altitude, direction, and speed. They factored in barometric pressures’ effects on shell trajectory and devised methods for firing on enemy targets at night. Ultimately these innovators produced incredibly complex electro-mechanical analog computers that could communicate with the guns, "telling" them fire solutions in order to shoot down enemy aircraft. Nahum’s final chapters examine the relations between the massacre at Wounded Knee and the 1884 British Expeditionary force in Egypt. He examines the innovative Mikhail Kalashnikov and Eugene Stoner, relating their stories to their respective societies that developed the highly reliable AK47 and the malfunctioning M16.
Scholarly readers may be frustrated with the lack of argument. The text also does not overtly engage with any of the existing historiographies of the various subjects. This reviewer was disappointed only to find two pages of selected bibliography. However, the book's broad coverage and intriguing histories will introduce scholars, students, and the general reader to numerous marginalized technological histories and spark curiosity. The book is a clear, fast-paced demonstration of how arms development has actuated technological development and social change. Nahum has uncovered and presented to his readers those less-considered tributaries of arms development through this fascinating and entertaining scientific examination of how our lives have been impacted by the gun (p 9).
Army History
In his 1936 sketch on generalship, John F. C. Fuller wrote, “The more mechanical become the weapons with which we fight, the less mechanical must be the spirit which controls them.”[1] Retired Colonel Gregory Fontenot has successfully crafted an exhaustive analysis of the courageous and adaptive spirit that controlled the Lucky Seventh in Loss and Redemption at St. Vith: The 7th Armored Division in the Battle of the Bulge. The 7th Armored Division was ordered to strengthen defenses around St. Vith, where it would fight alongside elements of the 9th Armored Division, the 28th Infantry Division, and the 106th Infantry Division. Its determined six-day defense of the town denied the Germans a crucial route along their northern flank during the Ardennes Offensive. Eisenhower asserted the division’s “gallant” stand at St. Vith “badly upset the timetable of the German spearheads,” adding that the holding of the town’s crossroads had convinced him that “the safety of our northern shoulder was practically a certainty.”[2] Such accolades invite an expansion and development of the existing historiography concerning the division’s role in helping thwart the German’s offensive. Fontenot answers the call, succeeding in his objective to deliver the complete history of the 7th AD’s fight from start to finish (3).
Gregory Fontenot has an extensive pedigree. During Operation Desert Storm, he commanded TF 2-34, 1st Brigade, 1st Infantry Division. After Desert Storm, he commanded the 1st Brigade, 1st Armored Division and later served as director of the School of Advanced Studies at Ft. Leavenworth. Fontenot's research in the 7th AD dates back to 1985, when he completed his second master’s thesis, The Lucky Seventh in the Bulge: A Case Study for the Airland Battle. The culmination of his extensive research, Loss and Redemption at St. Vith, delivers a deft examination of the 7th Armored Division’s operations during the Battle of the Bulge. His insight and observations as a career officer provide a fresh and authoritative voice to the historiography.
Readers will be impressed with the extensive bibliography. This includes the expected after-action reports, official correspondence, operational journals, unit histories, G-3 reports and the like. However, Fontenot has also utilized personal interviews with numerous participants who served within the 7th Armored Division and those who fought against it during the battle. Additionally, his personal dialogues with General Bruce Clarke (commander of Combat Command B) afforded him access to additional sources of recorded interviews, articles, and papers.
Loss and Redemption at St. Vith serves as an in-depth case study of American leadership and soldiering. The book aligns with scholarly works, such as Peter Mansoor’s The GI Offensive in Europe: The Triumph of American Infantry Divisions (University Press of Kansas, 1999), which argues doctrine, training, and command paved the way to victory, rather than American industrial superiority. While the United States’ industrial capacity gave it a distinct advantage, that advantage could not be leveraged without the spirit and grit of American soldiers. Fontenot maintains that the plain old vanilla draftee divisions carried the load (285). That is to say, it was units like the 7th Armored Division who displayed the perseverance and adaptability that led to American success on the battlefield (8).
Fontenot begins his narrative by examining armored and infantry divisions' organizations and summarizing armor doctrine. Though the narrative is more or less anchored to the divisional commander, Brig. Gen. Hasbrouck, Fontenot’s lens hovers over St. Vith at the strategic, operational, and tactical levels. At each level, the reader is introduced to commanders, boldly making decisions based on limited information, or failing to make decisions altogether. Major General Troy H. Middleton, commander of VIII Corps, failed to establish clear lines of command between the 106th Infantry Division and the 7th Armored Division in St. Vith. His divisional commanders found the friction of war compounded by his vague and even conflicting orders.
Fortunately, the story of the Lucky Seventh is primarily about good commanding spirits, whether it be that of General Eisenhower, Brig. Gen. Hasbrouck, or Lieutenant Joseph V. Whitman, executive officer of B Company, 23rd Armored Infantry Battalion. On 18 December, Whiteman had three half-tracks and two machine gun squads heading towards St. Vith when the Germans attacked his position. His bold reaction to commandeer, snag, and enlist everyone he could, resulted in an ad-hoc task force that grew to about 600 troops from ten different units (130). Similarly, on the same day, Lieutenant Colonel Robert O. Stone, commander of the 440th AAA, dug in to protect a vital intersection and ration dump. His rag-tag force consisted of elements from the 89th Quartermaster Railhead Company, 92nd Ordnance Company, a handful of 7th AD tanks, and stragglers from the 28th and 106th Infantry Divisions. Fontenot relates that the 7th AD’s cobbled-together positions stuck like a bone in the throat of Model’s Army Group B (137).
Loss and Redemption at St. Vith is primarily an operational history that centers on command initiative, innovation, and flexibility within chaotic and fluid circumstances in the extreme. Readers will gain a fresh perspective of operational warfare during the war, in all its weather, traffic jams, spotty communications, terrain, etc.
Many readers, such as this reviewer, who are not familiar with the key players at St. Vith, may find it challenging to keep up with the units, persons, and locales in the text. For example, a single page refers to nearly two-dozen German and American units, in addition to numerous commanders and locations. With the volume of persons covered in the text, it is also sometimes tricky to gauge the relevance of some soldiers and officers. Consequently, the flow tends to suffer in some pockets of the text. However, these comments are not intended to imply that the overall style is not effective.
This book is a valuable source for students and officers studying operational history, command, and the American and German fighting organizations during the Second World War. The quality and depth of research evident in Loss and Redemption at St. Vith assures its readers that Fontenot has produced the definitive work on the 7th AD during the Battle of the Bulge while demonstrating that the “largely underappreciated excellence of the US Army’s average units” shouldered allied victory in World War II (286).
[1] John F. C. Fuller, Generalship: Its Diseases and Their Cure. A Study of the Personal Factor in Command. Harrisburg: Military Service Publishing Co., 1936., 13.
[2] Dwight Eisenhower, Crusade in Europe, Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1948. 348.
Army History
Men of Armor is a fast-reading, well-balanced history of tankers during World War II. As president of the American Historical Association in 1912, Theodore Roosevelt charged the historian to have "the power to embody ghosts, to put flesh and blood on dry bones, to make dead men living…to take the science of history and turn it into literature.”[1] Indeed, author Jeff Danby hits these marks in part one of Men of Armor, The History of B Company, 756th Tank Battalion in World War II, a multivolume endeavor that has already received high accolades, including the Army Historical Foundation’s Distinguished Writing Award for unit history in 2021.
The first volume of Men of Armor is anchored to Charles M. Wilkinson, who will ultimately command B Company of the 756th General Headquarters (GHQ) tank battalion. Danby introduces the reader to Wilkinson, a graduating Second Lieutenant from Texas A&M’s ROTC 1940 class. He was promptly ordered to Ft. Knox, where he reported to the Divisions Officer Training Center (DOTC). Danby concisely narrates the the history of American armor up to that point, reviewing the familiar 1st Provisional Tank Brigade, Colonel Adna Chaffee, early light tanks, Colonel Daniel Van Voorhis, the mechanization of the 7th Cavalry Brigade, and the ambiguous mission of the Armored Force. After six weeks at the DOTC, Wilkinson hoped to land a position in one of the new armored divisions but learned he and his cadre would form the nucleus of one of the five new GHQ tank battalions. He started for Fort Lewis in Washington State to join the 756th Light Tank Battalion.
Fort Lewis was home to numerous armor, infantry, artillery, and cavalry units within the Fourth Army’s IX Corps. With dewy forests and brick barracks of Ft. Lewis providing the backdrop, Danby describes the role of the GHQ tank battalions and their machines, which at the time consisted of a few M1 and M2 light tanks. Obsolete though they were, these machines proved a scarce commodity in the rapidly sprouting training facilities across the country. Having only six of these tanks, the 756th had to make do with BB guns and small wooden frames representing the back-ordered tanks. To on-looking infantry units, tank crews lumbering around with wooden frames in hand was comedic. As for the tankers, they “gained valuable and practical experience rehearsing roles, crew communication, and platoon and company coordination tactics” (29). In the early chapters, Danby delivers a straightforward yet fascinating narrative of garrison life for tankers as they moved from California camps to Camp Picket, Virginia. Here, B Company welcomed the new sleek M5 light tanks. Danby recounts the tanker's curiosity about M5s armor, as evidenced by an unauthorized experiment where a lieutenant ordered a company cook to fire a truck-mounted .50-cal at one of the tanks. The battalion commander could not help but follow up his reprimand of the lieutenant with his own curiosity: “Did the rounds penetrate?” (67). The early chapters follow Wilkinson as he navigates emerging training programs, new machinery, and various personalities on his way to becoming the commanding officer of B Company.
Chapters five through eight follow the battalion as it itches for combat across North Africa. If the first chapters of the book present garrison life, the middle chapters capture the curiosities, burdens, amusements, and duties of life in bivouac. His descriptions of tank maintenance, recreational barbeques, security activity, personnel rotation, sleeping conditions, road marches, and other minutiae give vivid insights often absent from most histories.
In North Africa, the 756th constantly prepared for a fight that always escaped them. However, battalion officers, including Captain Wilkinson, were sent to Tunisia to observe the 751st Tank Battalion, then working with the 34th Infantry Division to secure the Fondouk Pass. For the first time, Wilkinson encountered the noise of combat, the silent wreckage, and the ugliness of death. Scorched medium M3s and charred, mangled bodies left a humbling impression on the young commander, who knew he would eventually be tasked with leading his tankers into battle.
Wilkinson returned to his regiment with knowledge gained: commanders do not "button up" their hatches and must depend on their exposed eyes to identify threats; all crewmembers need to be savvy with compasses, maps, and nighttime navigation; high explosive ricochet fire was more effective than direct hits; continue hitting enemy tanks until they burn; the best officers lead from the front. Shortly after his return to the battalion, Wilkinson was temporarily promoted to Battalion S-3. His fortuitous appointment found him in the presence of the port commander at Bizerte Harbor, who reported that two LSTs were ready to transport available reinforcements to the newly established beachhead at Salerno, Italy. Taking advantage of his current rank, Wilkinson volunteered the 756th for action and the battalion was soon loading onto the LSTs.
Chapters nine through fifteen delve into the battalion's combat experiences. For the remainder of 1943, the tank companies were divided amongst Army and Corps HQs to provide security, often in the form of manning roadblocks. The tankers correctly assumed that their peripheral function was due to their being a light battalion. Everything changed on 15 December with Fifth Army’s General Orders #107, calling for the unit to transform into a medium battalion. Within three days, B Company had swapped out all of its M5s for medium M4s. For the rest of the month, crews familiarized themselves with their new machines, working with R-975 engines, azimuth dials, and the much more powerful 75mm cannon.
After the New Year, the 756th was attached to the 34th Infantry Division and tasked with driving through the Mignano Gap towards Casino and the Gustav Line. Their sector was a two-mile stretch along the Rapido River, just north of Casino. On the western side of the river, the Germans had established a strong defensive network, utilizing two imposing hills and an Italian barracks complex. Dozens of machine gun emplacements with prepared fields of fire, surrounded by minefields and barbed wire, assured any American advances would be costly. From 21 January to 1 February, the infantry and tankers slugged it out with German positions. With the spotlight on B Company, Danby presents a virtual play-by-play of the company’s platoons and individual tanks. The battalion and accompanying infantry finally secure their sector and the final chapter ends with the tankers gearing up to make their drive on Casino itself.
Men of Armor will appeal to a broad audience, especially students and historians interested in the Mediterranean theater or American armor history. Armor historians will profit from the book's ground-level perspective of tank infantry teamwork, tactics, and leadership. Readers can nearly see officers scouting the terrain on their bellies, hear the reverb of artillery reports off the mountains, and smell the grease and cordite. That is not to suggest that the book carries a romantic flair or suffers from gratuitous passages. Instead, the author’s syntax effectively packages his exhaustive research on the leadership, sacrifice, skill, and courage of the men of B Company. The intimacy of the narrative is a fresh reminder of the individual human dramas of the war.
[1] Theodore Roosevelt, “History as Literature” (Annual address of the President of the American Historical Association, Boston, MA, December 27, 1912).
Army History
Severed bits of the human body revolt, educate, and fascinate the eye of the beholder, summoning our revulsion or intrigue. However, one particular appendage belonging to English shipmaster Robert Jenkins may have been brandished in the House of Commons in 1738 to stir a people’s passion for armed conflict – a casus belli for war with Spain. On 19 October 1739, King George II penned his name at the bottom of a declaration of war against Spain. Craig S. Chapman’s Disaster on the Spanish Main judiciously examines the contingencies that resulted in a Spanish victory. The text engages with but moves well beyond strategies and tactics. Chapman focuses on the frictions of war, such as the roles of politics, communication, climate, command personalities, and even mosquitos, in determining the outcome of the War of Jenkins’ Ear. He makes a strong case that the Spanish commanders outperformed their British counterparts.
From platoon leader to battalion commander, Craig S. Chapman’s 28 years as an infantry officer in the U.S. Army and National Guard serve him well in assessing military operations. He graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, Michigan State University, and the U.S. Army Command & General Staff College. This joint civilian and military education gives him a pedigree to publish works on the American Civil War, World War II, and, now, the War of Jenkins’ Ear. His purpose is to restore to the public consciousness the Anglo-Spanish War’s principal campaign in the West Indies, namely the amphibious campaign against the port of Cartagena, and to examine the many reasons for Britain’s loss and Spain’s success (2).
As the War of the Spanish Succession ended, the Treaty of Utrecht (1713) granted concessions to the belligerents. Mainly, Spain permitted Britain to import enslaved Africans and five hundred tons of merchandise yearly to markets in Cartagena, Porto Bello, and Vera Cruz with stipulated excise duties. Following the Anglo-Spanish War of 1726-29, both nations sought to harken back to the terms of the Treaty of Utrecht – both crowns wanting compensation for their losses, with Spain demanding payment owed and Britain insisting on reparations for assets lost. Violence at sea escalated when Philip V sanctioned the West Indies “guardacostas” to intercept British merchantmen and seize the contraband. British ships were lost, cargoes seized, and crews abused by Spanish privateers. In the meantime, Spain’s new alliance with Austria prompted Britain to ally with France and the Netherlands. Britain sent a fleet to the West Indies in a failed attempt to block Spanish treasure ships, which continued to reach homeports unloading their New World silver. British ships, on the contrary, returned to their homeports with accounts of Spanish marauding. Tales of kidnapping, torture, seizure, and one particularly famous de-earing circulated in print. Britons demanded militant recourse.
Petitions from planters, merchants, and the South Sea Company, poured into the House of Commons demanding their protection from "insults and depredations" and "to procure full Satisfaction for the Damages already sustained; and to secure to the British Subjects, the full and uninterrupted Exercise of the their Trade and Navigation to, and from the British Colonies in America." (58) "Britain began humming with a martial spirit," writes Chapman, “not at the behest of the king and his ministers, but from a bellicose public spurred on by the merchant class” (60). The governments nearly avoided war through a financial agreement (Convention of Pardo) between the two countries. Unwilling to unmoor their share of money owed to Spain, The South Sea Company refused to disclose its accounts "lest the Spanish King and its own shareholders discover the extent of their graft and embezzlement” (63). Negotiations quickly ceased, and Spain and Britain prepared for war.
Chapman’s narrative focuses on the opposing British and Spanish commands, British Admiral Edward Vernon and Major General Thomas Wentworth and Spanish Vice Admiral Don Blas de Lezo y Olavarrieta and Viceroy Sebastián de Eslava y Lazaga. Britain failed to "establish any clear goals beyond bringing Spain to heel or suggest any military objectives that could accomplish such an amorphous agenda" — bringing Spain to heel required the British fleet to move into the West Indies to seize the Spanish West Indies, particularly their port in Cartagena (66). The expedition was a catastrophe. Setting sail without any established grand strategy, Admiral Vernon and Maj. Gen. Wentworth soon found themselves with competing theories on how to project their power against the Spanish. Discord deteriorated into mistrust and enmity between the commands, swamping effective joint operations as the force maneuvered into the waters and jungles around Cartagena. Chapman points to one particularly glaring event when Admiral Vernon directed that all the freshwater (recently discovered by his ships) be distributed only to navy personnel and none to Wentworth’s forces slogging it out in the jungle heat.
The army would continue to stomach stored water, which was so foul accounts relate that men would often hold their noses as they drank it. Worse still, the water was a breeding ground for the Aedes aegypti mosquito, which would mete out yellow fever among the British forces (232). Here, Chapman breaks with the traditional narrative that yellow fever was the main reason for the campaign's failure. He asserts that the disease's contribution to the campaign's failure has been "misconstrued" throughout the historiography. (343). The casualties sustained from yellow fever took their toll only after the British lifted their siege on Cartagena. The real culprit to the failed campaign was the inability of Admiral Vernon and Maj. Gen. Wentworth to unify and execute joint operations. Chapman demonstrates throughout the text how “the disconnect between the services forfeited the chance to combine their attributes, skills, and fire to exert combat power exceeding their separate capabilities" (346). The author puts most of the blame on Vernon's arrogance, compounded by his ignorance of land operations. Wentworth also receives his share of culpability due to his inability to "stand up to the bullying admiral" (348). Chapman also effectively balances the narrative with the Spanish experience, arguing that their command, namely Blas de Lezo, proved to be better at adapting to strategic and tactical developments. Furthermore, the Spanish land and sea forces behaved in concert, providing mutual support, thus securing victory in the West Indies.
Disaster on the Spanish Main will appeal to many audiences, including those interested in combined arms operations, command, and 18th-century warfare. The book is an excellent multilevel military history that escorts readers through the politics and grand strategy, into the sweltering jungles and cannon-belching redoubts. Readers unfamiliar with 18th-century naval warfare may need to go beyond the provided glossary and maps. The book falls a little short in Chapman’s attempt to balance the Spanish and English history with that of the American colonies. Though the colonial viewpoint receives worthy attention, it makes up only a limited part of the narrative. Indeed, Chapman does succeed in presenting the American colonies’ overlooked contribution to the war effort. Chapman's prose and ability to write an accessible multi-perspective history that challenges the existing historiography assure academic and novice readers will come away with a thorough understanding of the war and the actual forces that determined its outcome.
The memoir A Machine Gunner’s War is mostly a successful balance of the personal narrative and a chronicle of the ETO from the perspective of a lowly infantryman in the First Infantry Division. As a whole, the book is an engrossing grunt’s eye view and provides a useful lens for understanding the life of a machine gunner and his tactical role on the battlefield during World War II. Ernest Albert “Andy” Andrews served as a gunner in the First Infantry Division from January 1944 through October 1945. The book chronicles the author’s day-by-day experience – examining the terrific, the absurd, and the mundane – and aims to examine the “profound ethical tension” many soldiers experienced during the war (x).
Andrew’s prologue opens with a phenomenal recounting of the marshaling and embarkation operations during the week leading up to D-Day. When boarding the USS Henrico, he marveled at the fact that a boarding officer sounded off his name just as he stepped aboard the ship. He reflected, “with this truly amazing display of efficiency that belied its well-deserved reputation for screw-ups, the U.S. Army was demonstrating it knew the exact location of every one of its GIs” (9). The narrative is rich in absorbing details, such as his riveting four-page account of the perils of descending down the scramble nets into the jouncing Higgins boat below on D-Day. The first chapter concludes with the 20-year-old machine gunner dug-in on the bluffs of Omaha Beach.
Chapters 2 through 5 cover Andrew’s life leading up to the war, enlistment, and training. In March of 1942, Andrew’s received his draft notice and reported to Fort Oglethorpe. Though he had requested a photographic unit in his processing questioner, he verbally let it be known to a clerk that he enjoyed hunting, fishing, camping, and hiking – thus sealing his fate to serve in the infantry. He soon began his training, which took him through Fort McClellan and Fort Meade before his ultimate embarkation camp - Camp Shanks. Specifically he trained on the M-1917A1 .30-caliber water-cooled machine gun.
After landing in Greenock Scotland, he traveled 450 miles by rail to Bridport, where he joined the 1st Infantry Division’s 16th Infantry Regiment, serving as a machine gunner in 2nd Battalion’s heavy weapons company - H Company. Heavy weapons companies contained two machine gun platoons and a mortar platoon. Andrew’s training in 2nd platoon was momentarily interrupted when he was drafted to be the chaplain’s assistant as his record indicated he played piano. Soon enough however, he was back to lugging a tripod and serving as primary gunner for his unit.
Chapters 6 through 9 recount the division’s breakout from Normandy and drive towards Belgium. The narrative is anchored to the author’s perspective of digging foxholes, hefting 22-pound ammunition boxes, and constantly scrutinizing the hills, gullies, and roads beyond his machine gun for enemy activity. Readers will appreciate the details of his experience. For example, he notes that many machine gunners were shot through the head “reflecting the fact that the gunner’s head was most exposed to enemy fire” (218). Thus he recalls monitoring his tracer fire by lowering his head to peer under the gun, to adjust his fire. He also describes the company’s use of jeeps and trailers to haul the heavy equipment, explaining how they were loaded, when they were used, and where the jeeps were relative to any action or front line positions. Exhaustion is frequently present, the author recalling the “mind-numbing fatigue left me apathetic to what might be happening around me, even when we came under fire” (143). Even crossing a few hundred yards of open ground near Aachen, the author remembers that his “legs involuntarily slowed to a walk…After expending all the energy we had, a passive resignation had set in.” (160)
Chapters 10 through 15 trace the 16th Regiment’s operations in the Stolberg Corridor, the Siegfried Line, Operation Queen, and the Battle of the Bulge. One chapter is entirely devoted to the seizing and holding of Hill 232, a prominent hill that had a commanding view of routes towards Gressenich and Schevenhütte. Reading almost like a play-by-play, the chapter has the reader in the foxholes with Andrews as he meted out (and endured) deadly fire. Artillery fire rained in as did numerous German counter attacks, endeavoring to dislodge the American’s from the commanding hill.
The narrative has many expositional gems to topics often left out of other memoir works. He addresses the aching muscles, burden of cleaning his glasses, and successfully harnesses language to describe sensations of fear, indifference, or exhilaration. Throughout the narrative is a sprinkling of the author’s reflection on Christian faith, which he relied upon throughout the war to help him deal with the personal loss, violence, and emotional trauma of the war.
Overall, the book is a successful account of the war from behind a machine gun. Some readers, such as this reviewer, may opine that many scenes in the book teeter on the cliché, possibly drawing some influence from film or television rather than memory. There are also a handful of details that many readers will wince at, such as the author’s “choosing” to fight in the ETO rather than the Pacific, or the memory of spring-loaded German mannequins popping up during training. In any case, these types of details may be forgiven as they do not detract from the books overall aim to deliver “greater understanding of that war in which [so many Americans] gave their lives.” This reviewer did gain a better understanding of a machine gunner in World War II.
In Progress for Marine Corps History