Some Other Beginning's End

Dear Readers,

Another school year is drawing to a close. Though typically professors may break things up by semester rather than year, for the past three years I've been teaching dual credit courses at a local high school though I am a college employee and do not work for the school district. For that reason, I'm in a unique position to get to know my classes over the course of a year rather than a semester. It is always a bittersweet time of year for many reasons, but this year seems more so. My students are remarkable and I've had some of my favorite classes ever, which is saying a lot because I don't get attached to anyone or anything easily. But I fear it may all be coming to a close.

The continued complications from my back injury are not getting any easier to live with. Quite the opposite. It is constantly two steps forward and three steps back. In some ways, I'm more limited than I was two years ago, as odd as that may sound. Add to that, the mystery illness which I've suffered from since at least June (probably longer) which was finally diagnosed in February. I'm not going to go into graphic detail, but it is an incurable auto-immune disease in which my body attacks itself. This means that I am am the only person strong enough to kick my ass. It is not fatal, but long term it can cause organ damage which can be. The list of symptoms are very long and I suffer from quite a few which causes issues for me in the classroom from time to time.

I'm frustrated and for the first time I am seriously considering leaving the classroom for good, though in my broken down state I don't think I'd get very far. I'll stick it out for another year if I can and then see what things look like. Part of it is due to concerns over my health and the other part of it is I'm tired of being "just an adjunct". I know I'm not full time faculty material. I'm too outspoken and I don't do politics. That alone rules me out. I don't have a PhD and, honestly, I'm not a "scholarly" person whatever the hell that means. I'm just a guy who likes to talk about history. Nothing more. Nothing less. I'm not a great teacher and I'm probably not even a very good one, especially not this year. I do think, though, that I'm an okay storyteller. 

As much as I try to shield my kids from my day to day aches and pains, I fear that for the first time I let my health intrude into my classroom this year. This makes me feel really bad for my students. While I only missed once because of having a procedure done, there were days when I felt like being anywhere but in the classroom. The chronic fatigue which comes with my disease means that even moving is hard sometimes. But I'm still here and I'm still fighting. I'm Irish and we just don't know when we are beat.

So as I walk out of the classroom here in a few weeks, I don't know what my future will hold. It may very well be that I'll be back in the same spot next year. I may be teaching at a different college. Or I may not be teaching at all. I'll just keep taking it one day and a time and hoping that things will work out for me eventually. Lord knows I'm due for some good luck but as I bear the Hutchison Curse, I don't see it happening any time soon. 

My name is Lee Hutch and I am a Half A$$ Historian.

How Can Man Die Better: Death on Culloden Moor

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Dear Readers,

Saturday marks the 270th Anniversary of the Battle of Culloden, one of the most significant battles in British History. In a way, it is significant for American History as well. It followed at the end of the Jacobite Rebellion which began in 1745. The Rebellion itself was an attempt to restore the Catholic Stuart line to the throne of England. In particular, Bonnie Prince Charlie was the man of the hour. I do not pretend to know all of the nuances of the Jacobite Cause or the details of British succession. This said, I do believe in the cause my Jacobite ancestors fought for. Why? Because some of them paid with their lives and others with their fortunes and I rather doubt they would have done that were they not convinced of the justness of their cause. 

My grandmother was a Cameron and thus I am related to many of the Camerons who stood on the moor that day under their leader, the Gentle Lochiel. And when I say this, I am not saying it simply because the last name is the same. I've done the research and know specifics. In fact, Clan Cameron is partially responsible for the rebellion. When Prince Charlie landed in Scotland, he had but a small force of men. He was not sure how he would be able to raise troops. Then he heard the sound of bagpipes and 800 Cameron men came matching over the hill to join him. Other clans flocked to his cause as well. After initial successes, infighting and incompetence plagued the cause and thus on that April morning in 1746, the Jacobite Army stood on the moor cold, hungry, and tired. 

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The battle was more of a slaughter. The bravery of the Clans was no match for the rifles and artillery of the Duke of Cumberland's force. The Camerons stood under a withering fire before they were ordered to charge. One English officer said the charge of the Cameron men was the bravest thing he'd ever witnessed. The Lochiel got close enough to discharge his pistol before grapeshot shattered both ankles. He was carried from the field and managed to escape to France where he lived out the rest of his days. Dr. Archibald Cameron, the Jacobite medical officer, had a reputation for kind treatment of the wounded of both sides. He too escaped the field with his life only to be captured and executed by the English for treason a few years later. Yet he was only a doctor who made a point to provide equal treatment to the wounded of both armies. That, Dear Friends, is English justice. Clan Cameron suffered heavy losses that day and many of her dead lie under the above stone marker in a mass grave.

Following the battle, British troops ran rampant through the Highlands pursuing escaping Jacobites and raping and looting their way across the countryside. Women were outraged, to use a period term, by groups of soldiers. Children were ripped from their mother's arms and killed. Men were shot or bayoneted on sight. On the field itself on the day after the battle, British soldiers were ordered to move through the masses of wounded Jacobites and dispatch them with bullets, bayonets, or rifle butts. Over time, the British would "clear" the Highlands and thousands were forcibly deported to the colonies, including the veteran of Culloden who would begin my family line here. One of my Irish relatives, Fitzgerald of the Hussar Cavalry, was captured after the battle and died in prison before he could be executed or transported. What the British did to the Highlands was no less than ethnic cleansing. 

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What is interesting from an American standpoint, is the impact this would have on the colonies. I find it amusing that so many people who claim to be "part Irish" on Saint Patrick's Day are actually Scots-Irish. However, many people who identify as Scots-Irish are actually Scottish who were transported following the Highland Clearances. The American Revolution began 30 years later and the children of these expelled Jacobites would fill the ranks of the Continental Army as a means to fight back against the hated English and their Army. In a way, the ethnic cleansing which took place after the Battle of Culloden backfired on John Bull. The Scottish (and Scots-Irish) brought with them their combativeness, their fierce loyalty, their mournful ballads (that gave rise to country music), and a wanderlust which pushed the boundaries of our growing nation further westward. In short, they were an important immigrant group in our early history.

More than just men died that day on Culloden Moor. It marked the end of the Clan system. The British made war not just on the Clans, but on their language, their culture, and their way of life. In large part, the British succeeded. Of course, they did the same in Ireland where they were not quite as successful. Families saw loved ones slaughtered in front of them. Families were ripped apart by forcible transportation to the colonies. Starvation and fear became constant companions. It is all so tragically sad. And yet today the British government is remarkably unapologetic for their acts of imperialism and oppression around the world. But I guess that doesn't matter anymore. 

My name is Lee Hutch and I am a Half A$$ Historian who is a Jacobite at heart for the simple reason that if it was a worthy cause for family members to die for, then it must a good one. 

  

The Bonds of Time

Dear Readers,

I've been thinking of something quite a bit of late. Why is it that some people feel stronger ancestral connections than others? Why do some have a stronger connection with the past than others? I had an eerie experience just a couple of hours ago. I was watching a documentary on the Battle of Culloden (of which the 270th Anniversary is fast approaching.....stay tuned for a special post). You can watch the documentary here. It is EXCELLENT! While I was watching the documentary, it talked specifically about Clan Cameron. I got goosebumps and my hands began to shake. Rather odd, I'd say. My grandmother was a Cameron and I am related to Camerons who were on the field that day. I also have relatives who were present in the Irish Detachment. I'm related to the Stuart royalty through blood and marriage (because they intermarried with the Fitzgeralds in Ireland). I don't know much about the lines of succession, but I tend to side with the Jacobites. My family was willing to die to put a Catholic King back on the throne and I rather think they wouldn't have done that if they were not convinced in the rightness of their cause. Besides, who wouldn't want to follow someone named Bonnie Prince Charlie!

I am not a monarchist by any stretch of the imagination. I do not like the idea of having a king or a queen. However, if other countries choose to have one, that's certainly their right. I get a chuckle out of the obsession some Americans have for the British Royal Family. We fought two wars so we wouldn't have to give a damn about the royal baby. But that's just me. I have a modest title of my own, though it is feudal and not noble. As much as I'd like to have my students call me Lord Hutch, I don't. I am related to a few people in Ireland and Scotland who hold real life Downton Abby kind of titles too, but so what? A title doesn't make you a better man (or woman). Your actions make you great, not your words. Would you treat me any different because I had a title? If so, I don't think I'd want to be your friend. But I digress.

I make no apologies for having the blood of Irish rebels (like the Lord Edward Fitzgerald above) and Scottish Jacobites pumping through my veins. I am what I am and I won't apologize for that. Not that I need to. Everyone wants to be Irish one day a year after all. Perhaps this is why I've always had a rebellious streak and am as stubborn as a deaf mule. Or so I've been told. I've identified with my family's past from an early age and this could explain why, today, I sort of live in the past. When I visit historical sights where my ancestors fought and died, I need only close my eyes and I can see it happening all over again in my mind. I've had students tell me that when I describe a battle, it is almost like I am recalling it from memory. In a way I guess I am. I did not choose to study the past. The past chose me to study it. That's how I've always felt. Then again, I could just be crazy.

I do not think I could be very effective as a history teacher if I did not feel this way. Others can be great teachers without feeling this way, so I am speaking only for myself. I do think that our ancestors call to us from beyond. By researching one's own origins, you can find out all sorts of interesting, tragic, or perhaps embarrassing items. (I have a family member who murdered his entire family with an ax.) But it can also help you discover who you are. Certain things are encoded in our DNA and cross the boundaries of time to touch us in the present. This is why I urge people to find out as much as they can about their origins while there is still time to do so. Consider that growing up, I was surrounded by World War Two veterans. Now, they are hard to come by and the current generation will grow up without ever having talked to one. That is tragic. This is why we need such stories preserved.

Stay tuned next week for my special Battle of Culloden post, though you'll probably see a few more from me between now and then. In the meantime, here is the beautiful, talented, and did I mention beautiful Amy MacDonald singing Flower of Scotland. She's very pretty for a non-redhead. And now.....for a special announcement. 

I have finished my second Master's degree! This one in Criminal Justice. So thank you Saint Leo University! I started working on it in June of 2014. In the past two years, I've taught 6-9 courses a semester while taking two graduate classes. I've dealt with complications from my back injury. And a few months ago I was diagnosed with Sjogren's Syndrome. But through it all I've managed to persevere and here I am today. Done. I worked much harder for this one than I did my MA in History, that's for damn sure. I could not have done it without the support of my beautiful wife (aka: The Redhead), pictured above. Our wedding vows said richer or poorer. We've been poorer. It said sickness and health. But all I've known is sickness. We celebrated 8 years of marriage last March. I don't know what I'd do without her. I certainly would not have been able to complete my degree had it not been for her help and support. My cats have also "helped" in their own way. I have also had the support of friends, faculty members, critique partners, and my own students who pestered me about my progress on occasion. This degree belongs to all of us, even though my name will be on it. So thank you all. Sincerely. And from the bottom of the block of ice that is my heart.

My name is Lee Hutch and I am a Half A$$ Historian who is now also a Half A$$ Criminal Justice-ian. Whatever the hell that is.

The Slings and Arrows of the Past

Tallyho Dear Readers!

Wow. Time has flown. This is my 100th blog post. I'd have hit this number a long time ago had life and fate not intervened. Thankfully, I am finishing my CJ Master's this week and will submit my final paper to be judged by a panel of three and hopefully passed, lest I have to wallow in the mire of graduate education for another semester. I'm pretty sure I'll be okay. In fact, I really should be finishing said paper now but why do today what you can put off until tomorrow? If anything, my BA, MA, and soon to be MS degrees have taught me that procastination is an art, worthy of Picasso or that dude who cut his ear off and mailed it to a prostitute. But I digress.

The subject of today's meager offering is similar to that of my very first post. They are two bookends, if you will, though my blog will, like the show, go on. I am elbow, or perhaps arse, deep in research at the moment concerning the Battle of Britain and the pilots and ground crews who took part. In a way, my whole life has been research about it as my personal World War Two library, while not as expansive as the one pictured above, consists of several hundred volumes of which a large number touch on the air campaigns. Though I did not know it until after we got married, The Redhead's grandfather was waist gunner on the B-17 Luscious Lucy and made the first daylight raid over Berlin with the 100th Bomb Group. (Keep an eye out for the next HBO/Tom Hanks/Steven Spielberg production which will involve The Bloody Hundredth!) Since there are so many other wonderful volumes written about the Battle of Britain, I do not see a need to add to them, at least not in the traditional sense. No, Dear Reader, I am involved in research for a novel. 

I am interested in the Irish pilots who left the Republic (though it was still the Free State at the time) to battle the foe in the skies over England. I've seen the number listed as 10 but also as 13. Rather than deal with an actual person, I've decided to add an extra fictitious pilot to that gallant band and his story will be representative of the rest as best I can make it. While I'd love to delve into matters of plot and characterization with you, as this is an open blog page, I feel it best to keep that close to my vest lest someone more talented than I take the idea and run with it. But I assure you that you'll be the first to know when I am ready to discuss it. The targeted completion date is 30 June 2016.

Czech Pilots of 310 Squadron

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I have long been interested in the process in which writers research and write their books, but especially how authors of historical fiction engage in that delicate dance between balancing the actual events with the story itself. With my work, I decided to make up a squadron that never existed as that gave me a tad bit more freedom, but I also drew from numerous sources about other squadrons in the area to make them as realistic as I could. What strikes me the most, and always has, about pilots in the Battle of Britain was how young they were. Though the movies often depict them as in their late 20s or 30s, the truth is many of them were teenagers or barely in their 20s. This is something I have to keep in mind as I write. As I was a teenage boy once who got into all sorts of mischief, I can't imagine what I would have done in an airplane! 

I don't go for the bodice ripping sort of historical fiction because, at heart, I'm something of a prude. I was listening to an audiobook in the car one day. I had the windows rolled down and was at a red light. The book was a historical one, and not a romance novel. Then some totally random sex scene took place and there I was, windows down, broadcasting it to various and sundry folks in nearby cars. So there is and will be none of that in my book, sorry to disappoint. I prefer to let the reader use their imagination rather than describe in graphic detail various acts that are probably illegal in ten states and five countries. 

My own schedule involves writing 1500 words a day, though I'll allow myself to do more if I feel like it. Sometimes I get it down in an hour. Other times it takes me 8 hours. I'm easily distracted and given my physical limitations, I have to type standing up because sitting down is too painful. Though I use a computer, I sort of wish I had an old manual typewriter. I think that would be great fun though it would probably drive my cats and The Redhead crazy. And speaking of The Redhead, I let her read each chapter as it is done so that she can point out everything I did wrong in it and make notes for me to correct when the joyous time known as editing begins. I'd rather run backwards, naked through a cornfield than edit, but it must be done. Just not yet.

The Redhead and I.

I "may" have my hand on her posterior in this photo.

How cheeky of me!!!!

So, Dear Reader, if you have any tips or advice on the art of writing historical fiction, I'd be happy to hear it. Furthermore, if there is anything you love or hate in historical fiction, I'd be happy to hear that too. Though writing a book may seem like a solitary task, in fact, it involves many people. Each in their own way. Who knows, one of you may have been my inspiration for an evil villain. I jest.....partially.

My name is Lee Hutch and I am a Half A$$ Historian who rather likes his wife's a$$. So until next time, check your six and don't prang your kite or you'll catch a rocket from your supervisor. He can be a right bastard. 

A Lawman's Untold Tale

Friends,

I don't know much about the man seated second from the left in this photo. His name was John M. Cameron and he served as a Texas Ranger, first in Company E of the Frontier Battalion and later as a Special Ranger. His service stretched from 1891 until around 1902. He was my great-grandfather's brother. As he and I were the only two lawmen in the family, I decided to set out to find what I could about him. It isn't much, but I found something. This week I received a nice, thick packet of information courtesy of the Texas Ranger Museum in Waco. I visited many, many years ago and I think it would be nice to go back sometime. Anyway, they dug out thirty pages of records and sent copies my way.

I can now tell you that Uncle Cameron was tall, like me. His enlistment records state that he was 6 feet tall which, in the 1890s, was very tall. He had black hair, brown eyes, and a dark complexion. Like me, he was temperate in his habits. Or at least he said he was on his application. His birthplace was Jackson County, Alabama. His father, a piece of information I already knew, served in the 4th Alabama Cavalry during the Civil War. Uncle Cameron enlisted in Company E of the Frontier Battalion in 1891 at the age of 20. For his service, he received 30 dollars a month which is the equivalent of $800 a month today. He had to supply his own horse and weapon too. Most of the paperwork I received dealt with pay and muster rolls. But there were some other interesting bits too. In 1895, he applied to become (and did) a Special Ranger. They served without pay but still had Ranger authority. There is an interesting supporting document from his company commander as to why such an appointment was necessary. 

The above is his commission. Unlike what you may see in the older westerns, Frontier Battalion Rangers did not carry badges. They above piece of paper had to be kept on their person at all times and served as proof of office and authority.

Above is his application to become a Special Ranger, along with his signed and notarized Oath of Office. The wording of his oath of office is not all that different than that which peace officers in Texas take today.  What follows is the document that his company commander wrote in support of it.

The affidavit reads as follows "The appointment is asked for that Mr. John Cameron may have this much protection being an important state's witness in a murder case and the defendants in said case being enemies of his might seek to take his life in order to get revenge as well as to do away with his testimony in said case. J.H. Rogers, Capt, Commdg, Co. E, F.B." The application was successful and he did serve as a Special Ranger for several years afterwards. One can assume that the men involved in the murder either got sent to prison or to the gallows. If they were found not guilty or the charges were dropped, in any case they did not get revenge.

This is a copy of a report that he wrote in which he describes arresting a man for drunk and disorderly conduct and also a group of men for horse theft. What is also interesting is that contrary to what some may think, the Frontier Battalion of the Texas Rangers did not have quite the same authority that you might think. When they were established after Reconstruction, their main job was to protect settlements from Comanche raids and to deal with groups of bandits that preyed on man and beast alike. They enlisted for short stints of time, sometimes only a month, and served at the leisure of both their captain and the state government. They were really more of a military arm of the state than peace officers, quite unlike the modern day Texas Rangers.

I'm happy to have learned what I could about him, even if it is a little limited. His service to the State of Texas should not go unnoticed and I hope he's happy that I learned more about it. Uncle Cameron and I have a few things in common, including bad handwriting. It is nice when old documents like these make you feel a little closer to long dead relatives that you never knew. 

I may not have been a Texas Ranger, and my trusty steed may have been a Chevy Silverado, but at least I got to wear a cowboy hat. My name is Lee Hutch and I am a Half A$$ Historian.

How the West Was Fun?

Co. E, Frontier Battalion, Texas Rangers

Alice, Texas 1892

John Cameron (seated second from left) is my great-great uncle

 

Dear Readers,

 

I confess. I enjoy a good western, be it a novel or a movie. Maybe it is because when I was a lad, I watched a lot of John Wayne movies with my father.......most of them, I think. El Dorado and She Wore a Yellow Ribbon are my favorites. I'll be the first to admit that westerns do not present a true depiction of life on the frontier. The women characters tend to be very poorly written with minor roles. In real life, women on the west had a bit more freedom than they did in the East which is why, by the time the 19th Amendment was passed in 1920, women already had the right to vote (in state and local elections) in every state west of the Mississippi. When you watch cowboy movies, notice you see very few black or Hispanic cowboys. Again, this is contrary to history. Some have estimated that one out of every four Texas cowboys was black. Naturally, the Native American characters are rarely portrayed in a positive light. Instead, they are either warriors, drunkards, or the Wise Indian stereotype. All that being said, I still enjoy watching a good western.

 

The genre has fallen out of favor over the past several decades, with a few exceptions such as the success of the movie Tombstone which, despite being an excellent movie, is also a bit short on historical accuracy. But I can quote every Doc Holliday line in the film! (I'm your huckleberry.) I'm not sure why I like them so much. As far as the novels go, westerns are rarely great literature but they are pretty good reads. Many of them are sort of like a male romance novel. There is a main character, who is quick with a gun and very cool. The ladies all flock to him. And he kills bad guys. They actually have a lot in common with the thriller genre too (think Steve Berry's Cotton Malone series). Fun reads, if somewhat empty of any substance.

 

My dream job!

 

Older western movies are morality plays. There are clear cut good guys (in white hats) and bad guys (in black hats). In the end, good triumphs over evil. Perhaps part of their appeal is because in real life that doesn't always happen. The bad guys win sometimes. But people don't want to pay money to see that. Movies of any genre rarely depict life as it really is but rather as some idealized version of life. Such is true with the western. Life in the west sucked. It was a rough, violent place that created hard people to deal with it. Prostitutes in these movies are usually very attractive. This is a far cry from the gonorrhea ridden ladies of the town which existed in frontier settlements. But again, we don't want to see that on film. The movies show the west as being a simpler time, and perhaps, as our world gets more complex, that is why people like watching them.

 

As someone who worked as a lawman in Texas myself, there is a certain bit of the west that still colors the job here. Having the title of "Deputy Marshal" was very cool, in addition to being historic. Unlike the movie marshal's who tended to smote bad guys on Main Street twice a day, I went to work each day hoping I wouldn't have to use to my gun. Then again, I didn't have to deal with armed bandidos sweeping into town to shoot up the streets. Or as the guy said in the Three Amigos "rape the horses and ride off on the women." My trusty steed was a Chevy Silverado, then a Ford Expedition, then a Dodge Charger, and then another Ford Expedition. I never rode at the head of a posse to apprehend horse thieves, but I did get to arrest some bad people nonetheless.

 

Sure, I know that the western genre, particularly the ones from the 30s-60s, are not politically correct by our standards. But many of them are classics and I like them anyway. I'll keep watching them because I enjoy them, not because I think it in any way reflects how life in the west really was. For me, it is good, mindless entertainment. I don't apologize for my love of these books and novels, because, in the words of Captain Brittles (John Wayne) "Never apologize. It's a sign of weakness." Maybe that is why Wayne was married three times? I never rode off into the sunset on my horse with a redheaded saloon girl in tow like I wanted. But I did marry a redhead. She's not a saloon girl though. Much worse. She's from Missouri.

 

My name is Lee Hutch and I am a Half A$$ Historian. My aforementioned great-great uncle and I are the only two people in the family to have been in law enforcement. He died in the line of duty in 1902. And I got hurt and can't work in law enforcement anymore. Maybe it isn't the right occupation for people in my family.

I'm Back With a Great Book Suggestion!

 

 

Dear Friends,

 

I apologize for my long break from the world of blogging. I don't have a good excuse, so I won't waste your time by giving you a bad one. Just kidding. I actually do have a good excuse. In the past, I've been slaving away as an adjunct teaching 8-9 courses a semester while taking 2 graduate classes of my own as I try to finish my MS in Criminal Justice. This past semester, I reduced my teaching load to six classes and this spring I will finish my Criminal Justice degree (finally!). So there you have it. I do not know if I will be as prolific in the upcoming weeks and months as I have been in the past, but I suppose something is better than nothing. Now on to the subject of today's post!

 

I don't know how I missed these books when they came out. I mean, I heard of them, but I did not read them. I can only surmise that it is for the same reasons given above for not blogging very much over the past months. As I am now making an effort to set aside more time for reading and less time for watching TV, over the Christmas break I was able to obtain the Liberation Trilogy by Rick Atkinson. The actual book titles are An Army at Dawn, The Day of Battle, and The Guns at Last Light. If you do the kindle thing, which I finally started doing in May after I ran out of room for any additions to my 2,000 book collection, you can get the three volumes together in a set for a very reasonable price, around $23. So about a week ago, I got my copies and dove in.

 

It is somewhat embarrassing for me to admit that despite having a lifelong interest in World War Two, my knowledge of the campaigns in North Africa, Sicily, and Italy are more general than specific. I can speak at length and with authority on the Eastern Front, the air war over Europe, and the campaign in northwest Europe from D-Day to the Fall of Berlin. I cannot do that as it relates to Operations Torch, Avalanche, or Husky. Compounding my shame is that my own grandfather commanded an infantry platoon in North Africa and Sicily! (Despite having been in the Army since June of 1940, it was until 1943 that the Army decided an officer who was fluent in French and German might be of more use to the war effort as an intelligence officer rather than an infantry officer.) Thankfully, this wonderful series of books has remedied my lack of knowledge!

 

Mr. Atkinson is a journalist. I say this because it means he knows how to tell a story. While plenty of analysis exists in the pages of his books, it is at its core, a narrative history. When it comes to writing this kind of book, journalists have an edge of academic historians. Academics get bogged down in arguing their thesis and storytelling takes a back seat, if it is even in the car at all. Journalists just make better storytellers, in my opinion. This is quite evident in the Liberation Trilogy. His books move from the halls of Washington to Eisenhower's Headquarters, to those of various generals, and finally, to the soldiers in the foxholes, the sailors in their ships, and the aircrew in the planes. This movement is seamless and the transitions excellent. At no point does it appear disjointed or choppy.

 

What I also appreciate about these books is that the author does not follow what I call the Brokaw/Ambrose school of World War Two history which goes something like this: American soldiers in Europe were all wonderful people who were fighting for freedom and liberty for all and did no wrong. And, of course, they won the war all by themselves. Atkinson covers the war warts and all. He mentions cases of American soldiers murdering prisoners, of various misdeeds both minor and serious, and also of serious command lapses, including on Eisenhower's part. He gives full attention to our allies in the West and covers British, Canadian, and even French contributions too. As his volumes cover the fighting in the West, the books do not fully explore the contributions of our Soviet allies, but this was not necessary for these volumes as it was not the point of the books. I did watch a C-SPAN interview with the author and he did talk about the importance of the Soviet contribution. This, of course, flies in the face of contemporary American history which ignores the Soviet war effort and also the fact that the Soviets took on around 80% of the German Army and caused around 90% of their casualties. Given the Russo-phobia that still exists in this country, this is not surprising.

 

I found his analysis of the various commanders to be spot on as well. With all the political infighting that went on, it is surprising that our combined forces were able to accomplish anything! His account of the 36th Infantry Division (Texas National Guard) and their ill fated attempt to cross the Rapido River was exceptionally moving. My grandfather enlisted in the Texas National Guard in June of 1940. He remained part of that unit until January of 1942 when he went to OCS and was, upon graduation, reassigned to a different unit. And this is just one of the many stories told in these marvelous volumes.

 

My grandfather was in the Army from June of 1940 until July of 1946. He rose from the rank of buck private to Captain. He talked a lot about his time in London, or Paris, or Berlin.....where he was part of the first group of Americans to arrive in the city. Granddaddy did not talk a lot about his time in North Africa or Sicily other than to mention some of his soldiers. Though I knew why he was close mouthed about his time in combat, these books help put it into focus a little better. Sadly, my grandfather passed away on Easter Sunday in 2009 at the age of 88. I'm sure he would have enjoyed these books too.

 

Mr. Atkinson's website says he is now working on a trilogy on the American Revolution which sounds quite promising. Given the fact that he spent 15 years researching and writing the Liberation Trilogy, I sure hope the Revolutionary War books don't take that long! Part of me wishes he would turn his attention to the Pacific Theater, but I'm sure that whatever he writes will be good. I'll certainly be looking forward to it.

 

So, Dear Readers, you should make haste to acquire these books if this is a subject which interests you. I promise that you won't be sorry.

 

My name is Lee Hutch and I am a Half Ass Historian.