If, like me, you like to read first-hand accounts of history, then these four books from my bookcase are difficult to put down. Enjoy them, and then reflect upon their deeper meanings. I’m sure you’ll find something in these true-life pieces of non-fiction that is new and thought-provoking aside from the obvious cut and thrust of military history.
1. The Wars of the Roses: The Soldiers’ Experience
by Anthony Goodman (2006)
The late Anthony Goodman was a professor emeritus at the University of Edinburgh. His books span a wide range of subjects covering late medieval England, and his work on the Wars of the Roses influenced me to write about it in 1994. The great thing about Goodman’s work is it is so detailed yet so accessible, and his work on the Wars of the Roses soldier gets to the bottom of what kind of men fought in battles such as St Albans, Towton, Tewkesbury and Bosworth. It makes grim but fascinating reading, even from a modern perspective. Many eyewitness accounts are new and provide vivid insights into the war’s brutal and tragic nature in the fifteenth century. Having written a few books on the Wars of the Roses myself, I know how difficult it is to piece together a medieval soldiers’ experience of war when unbiased contemporary evidence is lacking. However, Goodman writes with distinction and gives a constructive in-depth account of the day to day feelings, motives, attitudes and memories of soldiers trapped in a conflict that the Tudors cleverly whitewashed. For the general reader, this book is an excellent introduction to the Wars of the Roses with most of the politics and names stripped away, and I think you will find at least something in the narrative, and the voices of the soldiers, that rings true today as it did during this fascinating period of history.
2. Flags of our Fathers
by James Bradley (2000)
Fast forward half a millennium - and this book is about a man who was randomly included in probably one of the most famous events and photographs of all time. In 1945, American Marines plunged through the surf at Iwo Jima and into a hail of machine-gun bullets and mortar fire from 22,000 Japanese troops. After surviving this hell on earth, six men climbed up the island’s highest peak, Mount Suribachi, and were photographed there raising the star and stripes flag. One of those men was the author’s father, and after his death, letters and photographs were discovered that Bradley draws on to retrace his father’s experiences of the war. The book reads like a novel, but it is far more than that. It captures, at first hand, the personal and harrowing story of six men in their bid to stay alive against incredible odds. The aftermath is as moving and unexpected as the battle for Iwo Jima. Bradley’s book is one of the few narratives of the Second World War that goes beyond the obvious and reflects the true meaning of heroism and courage under fire. The 2006 film by Clint Eastwood is also pretty good, but the book is far more detailed and personal from an eyewitness point of view. The identification of the original flag bearers provides a fascinating twist in the tale that Bradley’s father never spoke about when he was alive. It is also illustrated with some great photographs.
3. Hell Riders
by Terry Brighton (2004)
What is the truth about the Charge of the Light Brigade? Why did almost seven hundred men charge the Russian guns at the battle of Balaklava? And what kind of society made the charge into the ‘Valley of Death’ so appealing to the masses after the event? The most brutal and ‘magnificent’ charge in military history has long been debated. However, it is the men of the Light Brigade that provide such a fascinating subject for Brighton. Whoever was responsible, or whatever the reason for the charge, there has always been a long-standing affinity with the troopers that recklessly followed their officers into hell on that grim October morning in 1854. At the time, the glory of the blunder overshadowed the brutal reality in Victorian newspapers, and later literary and poetic works gave readers a rose-tinted view of the charge and the grim reality of what really happened. The senseless slaughter of men and horses beggars description, but Brighton gets to the bottom of it with precision and detailed examination. He uses eyewitness accounts to take the reader on a journey from Britain to the Crimea and finally into the swirling vortex of Russian cannon fire. For me, the actual words of the Light Brigade are the stars here. However, Brighton tells the rest of the story with pace and compassion. He expels some of the long-standing myths about the charge and the blow-by-blow account of the action, the commanders, and the men who never questioned the reason why they charged into legend but just got on with the job of soldiering. Once started, this book is hard to put down, and it goes further than some histories of the Light Brigade by following the lives of the survivors and what happened to them after the battle. Again, this one is a great read that, towards the end, has the feel of a Victorian whodunnit novel rather than a military history.
4. Goodbye to All That
by Robert Graves (1929)
A true memoir and literary classic of the First World War told by an author who produced over 140 works in his lifetime, including the masterpieces I Claudius & Claudius the God. Aside from the obvious main theme of warfare, I love how the story switches from sedate public school life to the mud and blood of the trenches. When I first read it, it reminded me of The Deer Hunter, which conveyed the anti-war message so well on the screen in 1978. However, Goodbye to All That is the diary of one man, from his desperately unhappy days at Charterhouse School to his time serving as a young officer with the Royal Welch Fusiliers. As might be expected, Graves is brutally honest about the shocking numbness of war and pulls no punches about the latter. The memories of 1914-18 would haunt him for the rest of his life and would later contribute to his difficult decision to leave England forever. The book also contains some memorable encounters with fellow writers and poets like Siegfried Sassoon and Thomas Hardy and chronicles the breaking of many modern conventions. Among other things, Graves quarrelled with and was disowned by most of his friends. He was in trouble with the police on suspicion of attempted murder, and in the end, he ceased to care what anyone thought of him, his opinions, or his sexuality. The Great War took a heavy toll on Graves, like many others. But for me, his book is memorable for its vivid encounters with the war. From Loos to The Somme and Ypres, it is a miracle he survived the bullets and bombs, although he was wounded on one occasion and was reported dead by accident to his family. Later in life, Graves suffered from what we know now was PTSD and was haunted by the ghosts of his dead comrades. The book is a challenging read in some parts, but then we would expect no other from a war veteran writing about the bitter fighting and loss of life in France and Belgium. At one point, commenting on the mindless bloodletting and those that caused it, Graves agrees with his C.S.M. and states: ‘Of course it’s murder you bloody fool, and there’s nothing else for it, is there?’ Which I think is a fitting epitaph to any account of men who thought long and hard about the futility of war, comradeship and the living hell of the trenches through personal experience.