Marpi Point: Saipan’s Final Act

Privates Alva Perry and Paul Scanelon needed a bath.  Badly.  Neither had taken one in four weeks, and as members of A Company, 24th Marines, they had been tasked with defeating the Japanese garrison on the island of Saipan.  And for the most part, that was done.  Now it was time to wash a month’s worth of goop and sweat and stink off their bodies.

As they arrived at the beaches below Marpi Point on the Saipan’s far northern tip on July 10, 1944, something rather curious happened.  Two elderly Japanese parents, a teen-aged girl, and a small child peeked out from behind a rock.  Signalling their thirst to the two would-be bathers, the Privates quickly handed over their canteens.  And that brought more Japanese civilians out of hiding.

With their canteens nearly empty and bath-time apparently on hold, Scanelon went in search of more and, returning with a pair of 5-gallon buckets.  Now a line was forming.  As Perry and Scanelon looked out to sea, they saw another, even stranger site.  Dozens of Japanese were walking out into the water.  Further and further they went.  These, unlike the staring Privates, sought not to clean themselves, but to kill themselves by drowning.

Those certainly weren’t the only ones.  Saipanese citizens paid dearly for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Many of them had been convinced by Japanese soldiers that “the white man” was a race of brutal, uncaring people that would slaughter them en masse once they surrendered.  And the poor civilians, most of whom had never encountered a person of non-Asian descent, simply bought the story.

And so they killed themselves.  In the final days of battle, scenes like what Perry and Scanelon witnessed were played out in front of Marines all over the northern part of Saipan, but mostly at the northernmost tip…Marpi Point.

It was there that sheer, 800-foot cliffs provided the most gruesome displays.  Entire families would line themselves up, with older children pushing the younger children, mothers then pushing the older children, and fathers pushing the mothers before following them to be shattered on the coral below.  Others, standing in groups, would detonate hand grenades among themselves.  More shot themselves, or had retreating soldiers shoot them.  Some were forced by Japanese officers to commit suicide, but many more did so on their own.

U.S. forces sat below Marpi Point in boats with loudspeakers and tried, mostly in vain, to stop the madness.  There was little anyone could do.  Thousands of civilians died in those final days…and more than 22,000 civilians were killed throughout the campaign.

Sadly, the Pacific War was filled with these kinds of incidents, and they intensified as the war progressed.  It seemed that every island had a “Marpi Point” or “Banzai Cliff” of some sort.

Recommended Reading:  Hell is Upon Us

Lituya Bay: Back-Broke Mountain

When the words “Lituya Bay” are mentioned (which, to be perfectly honest, doesn’t happen all that often), I think of those Old Milwaukee beer commercials from years past.  You remember the ones?  They go something like…

Lituya Bay and Milwaukee both mean something great to these guys.  Lituya Bay means Alaska, America’s wildest frontier.  Beauty, wildlife, fishing.  And Milwaukee means beer…cold, crisp, Old Milwaukee beer…

You get the idea…and yeah,  it’s pretty stupid.

In case you didn’t know, Lituya Bay is a small natural fjord (2 miles wide by 7 miles long) along the southeast coast of Alaska…right about here.  It serves mostly as a shelter and anchoring point for small fishing boats, but its relatively dramatic tides and high current speeds at the entrance give mariners some extra action when navigating.

Typically a quiet little harbor, Lituya Bay was never in an Old Milwaukee beer commercial.  But it was the sight of one of the most dramatic events in recorded geological history.  On the evening of July 9, 1958, a magnitude 7.7 earthquake shook the Fairweather Fault, which crosses our little harbor.  Earthquakes are not uncommon, but the results of this quake certainly were.

At the back of the harbor, 40 million cubic yards of mountain broke free and collapsed into the water, creating a huge tsunami.  As the water ripped through Lituya Bay, it spread out and got smaller, but its initial height is still the highest ever seen…516 meters.  That’s 1,720 feet high…a third of a mile.  For comparison, the World Trade Center’s North Tower (including antennas) stood 1,728 feet tall.  That’s a colossal wave!

Anyways, near the mouth of the Bay sat Howard Ulrich and his 7-year-old in their small fishing boat.  Having anchored just a couple hours before, they got the shock of their lives when the earthquake struck.  Two minutes later they got a second (and bigger) shock in the sound of a deafening crash and what looked to be a massive explosion at the head of the harbor.  Three minutes after that, the wave, still nearly 100 feet high, hit their boat, carried them out over the shore, then backwashed them into the middle of the harbor.  Miraculously, both survived.

The Lituya Bay tsunami stripped away the trees, vegetation, and even the dirt in its path, leaving bare rock in its wake.  Fifty years later, the effects of the landslide can still be seen in Lituya Bay, a stark reminder to the incredible power of water.

Recommended Reading: Geology.com website – This site has a great amount of detail and great photos of the Lituya Bay tsunami.

The Deadly Venom of the Inland Saipan

For some reason, this didn’t get published when it was supposed to…I messed up the dates or something…

If you recall, several weeks ago I wrote about the venom of “Coastal Saipan”. Today it’s “Inland Saipan”.  You might be wondering at the whole poison connection.  Well, I’ve always been fascinated by snakes.  I hate them, and would desperately not want to encounter one in public, but they still intrigue me greatly.  And drop-for-drop, the deadliest snakes in the world are Australia’s taipans, with venom 50 times more toxic than that of the Indian cobra.  There are two main types of taipans, and seeing how “taipan” looks suspiciously like “saipan”, you can probably guess those two types to be the coastal and inland.  And both are 100% deadly.

The Battle of Saipan was much the same, deadly on the coast, and very deadly inland.  War planners estimated the island’s capture to be just a matter of days, but they underestimated the number of troops present.  And more importantly, they underestimated the Japanese desire to die.  An enemy that seeks death usually proves much harder to defeat than one that wants to fight, but also live.  When someone wants to die, you can’t simply subdue him, you have to kill him.  And when it’s true of an entire 30,000-man garrison, the road to victory is going to be very bloody.

July 7, 1944 saw the Japanese nearing defeat, but refusing to be taken alive.  Most were wounded, sick, or starving, and all were low on ammunition.  But men who want to die will find a way.  And at 4:00am, with the aid of sake’s “liquid courage”, well over 3,000 of them charged in a mass suicide attack, crawling, running, or hobbling on crutches and armed with everything from guns to sticks.  Down the coast they came, not all that far from a place called (somewhat ironically) Paradise Valley (which is right on the coast, but humor me for the sake of the title).  Standing in their way were the 1st and 2nd Battalions of the 105th Regiment.  Slightly further back was the 3rd Battalion of the 10th Marines.

This final charge, called the Gyokusai (or “shattering jewel”), was a 15-hour ordeal of blood and guts and courage.  The 105th Regiment would see three men receive the Medal of Honor, Lt. Col. William O’Brien, Sgt. Thomas Baker, and Capt. Ben Salomon.  These three, along with 650 of their buddies, would be killed or wounded.  The Japanese onslaught would be wiped out almost to a man.

And that was pretty much it for the Japanese garrison.  Two days later, the island would be declared secure, but there was still more tragedy to be played out on Saipan.  We’ll look at that in a couple days.

Recommended Reading: D-Day in the Pacific – The Battle of Saipan

Alexander Gorovets: Russian Gunslinger

I came across the story of Alexander Gorovets some time ago in a book I was reading.  But of course, I didn’t write down which book, so when it came time to talk about him, I had lost my main reference.  I figured an Internet search would turn up all the info I needed.  I was wrong…and when I started reading what itty-bitty crumbs were available, some of the facts were different from what I had remembered.

Then I got frustrated and did some more digging through the books I’ve recently had open…nothing.  I looked through some magazines…not a word.  So…what to do?  I’ve decided to tell you the basic story, because it’s constant, then let you decide on the details…or point me to the proper answers.  It’s a two-way version of Today’s History Lesson.

We mentioned the Battle of Kursk yesterday and its heavy concentration of ground-based firepower.  Kursk is best known for its tank warfare, and that’s good, because it was easily the largest tank battle in warfare’s long history.  But there were nearly as many planes in the air as there tanks on the ground.  And that’s where our subject comes into the picture.

On July 6, 1943, the Lieutenant was flying over the battle when he spotted 20 Junkers Ju-87 Stukas.  The Stuka was, in WWII, just about the closest thing to a “precision” bomber in existance.  Though now clearly outdated as any kind of fighter, it was deadly in its ”tank plinking” role.  Carrying a single 500-pound bomb under the fuselage, it was devastating to armor.  Gorovets knew that, and 20 of them could easily destroy 20 tanks.  And so he attacked.

And on the ground, Russian infantry were able to watch in amazement as Alexander slashed through the Stukas, downing one, then a second, then two more, and then another.  The Stukas simply couldn’t fight with the additional bomb weight.  And so they jettisoned their bombs and scattered for safer territory.  But before they could escape, Lt. Alexander Gorovets had single-handedly destroyed 9 of them…and then his guns ran dry.

But while his fame was just beginning (he would be named a Hero of the Soviet Union), Alexander’s life was nearly over.  Returning to base, he was jumped by a 4-ship of Focke-Wulf Fw-190’s.  Low on fuel and with no ammunition for defense, the hunter became easy prey, and Gorovets was shot down and killed.

None of that is disputed.

Here’s my confusion.  My notes indicated that our hero was flying a Bell P-39 Airacobra.  The Airacobra (shown on the left) was a U.S. mark, sent to Russia as part of Lend-Lease.  It was a capable (though not outstanding) fighter that probably achieved its greatest success in the hands of Russian pilots.  But all other sources state that Gorovets was flying a Russian-made Lavochkin La-5 (shown on the right), a very capable aircraft on par with the Focke-Wulfs that shot him down.

Anyways, Gorovets’ achievements were remarkable, regardless of which plane he was flying.  I just wish I could find that reference to him flying a P-39.  If any of you ever come across it…

The Battle of Kursk: Tanks a Lot

The spring of 1943 saw a growing disquiet among Germany’s Generals and Field Marshals.  North Africa had been lost, and an invasion of Italy via Sicily was looking more and more like a possibility.

In the east, Stalingrad, after nearly being captured, had been lost, together with nearly a million men and massive amounts of equipment.  The tactics of Blitzkrieg, so successful against smaller countries, were vastly more difficult to execute in a country the size of Russia, where there was lots of “room for error” and plenty of time for the opposition to learn and adapt.

But in spite of all this, there was still reason for Teutonic optimism.  The Germans still had a solid front that ran from Leningrad and the Baltic Sea in the north to Rostov and the Black Sea in the south.  If you can find those two points on a map and draw a line between them, you essentially have the line of demarcation.

But towards the south, there was a curious depression in the line that looped to the west around the city of Kursk.  It became even more pronounced when Field Marshal Erich von Manstein recaptured Kharkov in March.  It was quickly decided to straighten the line, capture Kursk (and a bunch more Russians), and then make a concerted move toward the Don River.

The offensive, originally set for early May, was postponed numerous times and the reasons were all legitimate.  First, there were newer, more powerful tanks just starting to roll off the assembly line.  The Tiger and the Panther, both serious upgrades over the current marks, would clearly make a difference around Kursk, where the flat terrain was ideally suited for mechanized warfare.  And then the fall of Africa caused attention to be diverted as it was assumed that Italy would be invaded.

By the time all was said and done, March (when Kharkov was lost) had become early July.  This was particularly good news for the Russians, because they had access to the same maps as their counterparts.  And they could see the same salient around Kursk.  And they could pretty much guess the next target.  And espionage groups were giving them lots of good information.  And they were now experienced in Blitzkrieg warfare.  And they knew how to respond.

The area around Kursk became one of the most heavily defended places on the planet.  The Russians placed 1.3 million men in the salient, along with 3,600 tanks and nearly 3,000 aircraft.  Civilians helped bury a million anti-tank and anti-personnel mines.  Artillery pieces were everywhere.  The Russian plan was to give ground slowly, avoid the Blitzkrieg “pincer and encirclement” tactics, and simply grind down their German opponents before striking.

And on July 5, 1942, the Germans got an unpleasant 2:00am “wake up call” as the Russians unleashed a massive artillery bombardment (though they didn’t move forward).  The Germans now knew that the Russians knew what was coming…and that was probably a pretty bad feeling.  At 5:30am, the Germans (after collecting their wits), launched Operation Citadel with nearly a million men, more than 3,000 tanks, and aircraft numbering more than 2,000.  The area of dispute, a circle roughly 90 miles by 100 miles, would contain more firepower per square mile than nearly any battle in history.

The battle for the Kursk salient was on, and it would be one for the ages.

Recommended Reading:  Kursk 1943 – These Osprey books are small, but pack a great informative punch.

The Spirit of ‘76…in 1774

This has not been our typical Independence Day weather.  It’s been cloudy and rainy most of the day.  Temperatures didn’t even reach 70°, and I can’t remember the last time it was this cool on the 4th.  Of course, I struggle to remember what I had for breakfast, so…

We’ve decided to sit and watch fireworks from the front step, rather than fight the crowds to be cold for a couple hours.  But watching the “bombs bursting in air” has put me in a Colonial state of mind.  So let’s go back…not to 1776, but to July 4, 1774, when fireworks of a different sort were being lit.

Located in Tappan, New York, and owned by a Dutch colonist, Yoast Mabie’s Tavern was a popular gathering place for those of a “revolutionary” spirit, who got in the spirit with the aid of the spirits they consumed.

And in 1774, there was plenty to discuss.  The last of the Intolerable Acts had just been foisted on the Colonists by Britain, and for many, they were just about the last straw.  It mattered little that the Colonists had, in part, brought it on themselves with their actions, because mugs of well-brewed ale combined with outrage tended to blind men to their own culpability.

On this night, exactly two years before the Declaration of Independence went to press, inhabitants of Orangetown and the Province of New York gathered and adopted, in response to the Intolerable Acts, a set of resolutions.  Maintaining their loyalty to the King, they still spoke strongly against the oppressive measures levied against the Colonies in general, and against Boston in particular.

The Orangetown Resolutions read as follows:

• 1st, That we are and ever wish to be, true and loyal subjects to his Majesty George the Third, king of Great Britain.

• 2nd, That we are most cordially disposed to support his majesty and defend his crown and dignity in every constitutional measure, as far as lies in our power.

• 3rd, That however well disposed we are towards his majesty, we cannot see the late acts of Parliament imposing duties upon us, and the act for shutting up the port of Boston, without declaring our abhorance of measures so unconstitutional and big with destruction.

• 4th, That we are in duty bound to use every just and lawful measure to obtain a repeal of acts, not only destructive to us, but which, of course, must distress thousands in the mother country.

• 5th, That it is our unanimous opinion that the stopping of all exportation and importation to and from Great Britain and the West Indies would be the most effectual method to obtain a speedy repeal.

• 6th, That it is our most ardent wish to see concord and harmony restored to England and her colonies.

• 7th, That the following gentlemen, to wit: Colonel Abraham Lent, John Haring, Esquire, Mr. Thomas Outwater, Mr. Gardner Jones, and Peter T. Haring, may be a committee for this town to correspond with the City of New York, and to conclude and agree upon such measures as they shall judge necessary in order to obtain a repeal of said acts.

Pretty good language, maybe some of the best that’s ever come from a bar.  Daniel Webster called taverns “the headquarters of the Revolution”, and Mabie’s Tavern would go on to greater fame during the Revolution, but that’s for another time.

Recommended Reading:  The 76 House website – Mabie’s Tavern is still around.

Blessed Be the Tie That Doesn’t Bind

John Adams, a prominent Massachusetts lawyer, liked to mince words.  A seasoned orator often accused of being overly enamored with the sound of his own voice, Adams didn’t address a lot of topics that weren’t worth talking about for a long time.  Ok…actually he did.  In later years, his penchant for pontification (coupled with his Santa-Claus-like figure) earned him the nickname “His Rotundity”.

But when speaking of Independence Day in a letter to wife Abigail, he kept it pretty simple.  He wrote:  “I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival.  It ought to be commemorated as the Day of Deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty.  It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations from one end of this continent to the other from this time forward forever more.“

Now it may come as a surprise to some that Adams wasn’t writing about July 4th. Yeah, it’s the day we celebrate our independence from Great Britain. But for the members of the Second Continental Congress, “Independence Day” didn’t occur then.

It actually started almost a month before (on June 7, 1776), when Richard Henry Lee, another lawyer (from Virginia), proposed what became known as The Lee Resolution.  It called for a formal severing of ties with the British Crown and declared the Colonies independent.  But before actually committing the Resolution to a vote, some time was taken for the Congressional delegates to consolidate their support and gain the necessary votes for passage.  Furthermore, five delegates were formed into a committee to draft an official declaration of independence.

A final draft copy was presented to the Congress on the 28th of June, and debate and counting votes began in earnest on July 1st.

And on July 2, 1776, a breaththrough was achieved when South Carolina’s delegates changed their position and voted for independence.  In addition, Delaware’s deadlock was broken, and John Dickinson and Robert Morris abstained in Pennsylvania’s delegation.  The final vote showed a unanimous vote among the 13 Colonies…sort of.  Only 12 voted as New York’s delegates (in the heart of Tory country) hadn’t yet received authority from their constituents to vote on independence (they got it the following week).

Ties with Great Britain and the King had officially been ended, and this event, on the 2nd, was what put Adams’ pen to paper.

So why do we celebrate Independence Day on the 4th of July?  Well, after the vote on the 2nd, Congress had to approve the language of what was to become one of America’s two most famous documents…the Declarlation of Independence.  That approval came on the 4th and it’s when printing and distribution of the document commenced.

Recommended Reading: 1776

The Desert Fox Runs the British to Ground

In July of 1941, El Alamein was an unknown dot on the African map.  Located 65 miles west of Alexandria and the Nile River Basin in Egypt, the town was a backwater railroad station of little concern.  But what a difference a year makes!

In July of 1942, El Alamein, the little train depot on the Mediterranean, became the focus of one (well, actually two) of the most important battles fought during the Second World War.

The British had been fighting the Italians in Africa and were having a pretty good go of it.  But things changed when General Erwin Rommel and the Afrika Korps arrived in early 1941.  Here was a serious foe.  And it didn’t take long for Rommel’s forces to get cranked up.  Having been given orders to “hold the line” and operate defensively, Rommel sensed British weakness and “operated defensively” by pretty much clearing all but eastern Libya of the British and besieging Tobruk…in roughly 60 days.  Though Tobruk would eventually be relieved, Erwin Rommel’s reputation as a master of desert warfare had now been firmly established.

With America’s entrance into the war in December and fighting breaking out in the Pacific, the British and Australians siphoned off troops from North Africa for the Pacific.  And again, the Desert Fox struck, this time in early 1942.  British forces were simply too disorganized and spread too thin to resist their enemy, and could do little but fall back.  The German Panzers stopped, rested, and regrouped.

And then they proceeded to preempt a British offensive with one of their own.  In June of 1942, the Battle of Gazala was decisively won by the Afrika Korps and Tobruk was captured, earning Rommel the baton of a Field Marshal.  Britain’s stay in Libya (for the time being) was over and the push into Egypt began.  The decision for the British to stand at Marsa Matruh was abandoned and General Claude Auchinleck, who had recentely appointed himself head of the retreating British, continued the eastern retreat nearly 200 miles into Egypt…to the place nobody knew…El Alamein.

The train station had little strategic value of its own, but its location was critical.  Thirty miles to the south was the Qattara Depression, and tank operations there were impossible.  If Rommel was to flank the British, he’d have to go far to the south and into the Sahara Desert.  Auchinleck’s decision forced the Germans into a frontal assault along a relatively narrow front, which gave the British a much tighter defensive line.

And on July 1, 1942, Rommel’s forces, pushed ruthlessly by their relentless commander, exhausted, and running low on supplies, attacked the British at El Alamein.  For the British, there was no fallback position.  Defeat here meant the loss of Alexandria, the loss of Cairo, the loss of Egypt, the loss of the Suez Canal, and the loss of Africa.  And for the next month, the battle would wage.

Recommended Reading: Pendulum of War: The Three Battles of El Alamein

Drive, He Said

There’s no denying that I’ve always been a car nut.  I love cars.  I’m always looking at them, thinking about buying them, and wondering how to improve the ones I own.  And over the years, I’ve owned a number of them, foreign and domestic.

Back in 2001, I purchased a project car (actually my first purchase on ebay) that is now nearly finished.  I’ve put more money into the car than it cost new back in 1988, but it’s been worth it.  I’ve owned a pair of Audi A4’s (a 2000 and a 2005.5) that I loved.  A trio of Mazdas, a trio of Acura Integras, a couple old Volkswagen Rabbits, a couple Chevys, a beater Jeep, and even an old Buick pretty much round out the list.

I’ve also been fortunate to have ridden in a lot of really fast cars (though not at really fast speeds).  But in all my life, I’ve only been inside a moving Corvette once.  And that’s a real shame, because every one that rolls out the factory doors – are they still manufactured in Bowling Green? – comes with an incredible heritage that now spans more than half a century.

Cars have a lifespan that’s measured in “generations”, and America’s longest-lived sports car (which is named after a small, agile warship) is no different.  The first was classed the “C1″, the second “C2″, and so on.  The latest evolution is the C6, and it includes the highest performing “from-the-factory” variants we’ve ever seen.  The base car has well over 400hp, the Z06 a tad over 500hp, and the competition-flattening 2nd-generation ZR-1 has a heart with 640 supercharged horsepower.  These are serious cars.

But they weren’t always that way.  Early Corvettes, the first of which rolled off the line on June 30, 1953, were pretty anemic, with a wimpy straight-6 engine and an uninspiring 2-speed gearbox.  But since only 300 of those 53’s were built, they are probably the most valuable of all the Vettes.

Fortunately, Ford began production on the Thunderbird in 1954.  The cars were somewhat similar in look, and the T-Bird was more of a luxury coupe.  Wanting to differentiate itself, Chevy gave the Vette more power, modified the styling some, and classed it a sports car.  And since then, fans have been (mostly) thrilled.

Other than the 1970’s, when all cars had low compression and no power, the Vettes have always symbolized the pinnacle of American performance.  But it’s only been in the last 15 or 20 years that Chevy’s sports car has been mentioned in the same breath as the supercar brands from Italy and Germany.  Today’s ZR-1 offers comparable (and sometimes superior) performance and quality to Lamborghini and Ferrari at a better-than-50% discount.  The Corvette may not have the prestige of a Murcielago or an F430, but who needs prestige with 640 horses under the hood when the light turns green?

My favorite Vette is the 1963 Sting Ray (a C2) with that split rear window (like the one shown above).  And it just happens to be the only Corvette I’ve ever driven…at about 5mph.  In college, I worked at a car dealership washing cars, and a customer brought one in for service.  It was a brutish beast with a small-block V8 and a clutch that Lou Ferrigno would have struggled to engage.

But I’ll never forget that “drive”.

Stalin Down with a Case of the Blau’s

Today’s History Lesson won’t take too long, because it’s late…and I’m tired.  Plus some of the background information we covered just last week.  The massive German offensive in southern Russia was being prepared when plans for “Fall Blau” (Case Blue) fell into Russian hands.  Stalin received the plans and then believed them to be part of an elaborate ruse.  And so he ignored them.

And to be honest, it’s not to come to his defense just a bit for his decision.  When the Russians had been invaded the year before, the strongest actions had been to the north.  Disaster had narrowly been averted with the help of an uncharacteristically harsh fall and early winter.  Conditions gave the defenders time to prepare an couterattacking army that saved Moscow in the nick of time.  Further north, Leningrad was still almost completely surrounded.

So we shouldn’t be so terribly surprised that Stalin, knowing how close the shave had been the previous December, would assume that the German armies would come calling (in bigger and badder numbers) to the same addresses.  And the Soviet generals had followed that thinking as well.  More than half their total armed forces were deployed in defense of the north.

In the south, where the Germans launched Fall Blau on June 28, 1942, it met with fewer than 10% of Russia’s total military might.  The Soviets could do nothing but fall back, and that’s precisely what they did.  We’ll probably visit this topic again, but two things should be noted right away.

First, unlike 1941, Soviet retreats were handled very well…”orderly” is a good word.  A year before, the Wehrmacht had feasted on the encirclement…surrounding large masses of Soviet soldiers and then reducing the pockets.  This year, the Germans would struggle to flank.  When they tried to surround, the Soviets just fell back.  The Soviets were learning.

Second, in an advance of this nature, Germany’s supply lines would grow incredibly long in a hurry, and keeping troops and trucks and tanks fed would become a huge problem.

But on this day, it was Germany seeing all red and Russia with the blau’s.

Recommended Reading: Absolute War – Soviet Russia in the Second World War

Clinton and Bush: Team of Rivals

President Bill Clinton and President George Bush (that’s George H. W. Bush) were pretty serious rivals back in 1992.  Those of us that watched the two verbally duke it out as they “interviewed” for the job as President probably made a couple of observations.  First, President Clinton was a much better orator than his opponent.  Second, the two didn’t seem to like each other very much.

But I suppose that’s the nature of politics in America…and maybe most other places, too.  It tends to draw stark contrasts and bring even good friends (to say nothing of opponents running for office) into sharp debate with each other. 

But maybe appearances are deceiving.  Maybe those that seem so antagonistic towards each are, in truth, good friends separated by that silly little letter typed on his or her voter registration card.  And once the spotlight of the political arena is focused elsewhere, the better angels of nature get a chance to shine.

It was that way for President John Adams and President Jefferson.  Maybe that’s the way it was (and is) for our 41st and 42nd Presidents as well.  They have worked on numerous projects together since leaving office.  And more than just business partners, there’s a visible comraderie that makes me believe that these two men genuinely like each other.

Some of that might have to do with events that occurred just after President Clinton took office.  It was discovered that the Iraqi government had planned to assassinate President Bush when he visited Kuwait in 1993 to commemorate the Gulf War victory.  The plan, intercepted by Kuwaiti officials, involved a car, a big bomb, and the bloodied remains of a President and his entourage.

When U.S. intelligence deteremined that Iraqi intelligence was behind the plot, newly-elected President Clinton responded with a resounding “I got your back” to the former President.  On June 26, 1993, the U.S. fired two dozen cruise missiles at the Iraq’s intelligence headquarters.

It’s possible that a response of that magnitude is appropriate to the crime-almost-committed…I have I no idea.  But I do know that if a person I didn’t like too much stood up for me like that, I’d probably forget a lot of the bad blood between us, too.

Whatever the causes, it’s great to see two men, diametrically opposed to each other not so long ago, working in such close harmony now.  Oh, to see more of that when politicians are still in office.

North Korea: Then and Now

It seems somehow appropriate to talk about North Korea for Today’s History Lesson.  Over the last several years, this secretive Communist stronghold, controlled by one that many consider to be a deranged lunatic, has managed to anger or threaten nearly every civilized nation on the planet.

Determined to establish itself as a “power with which to be reckoned”, North Korea recently passed the nuclear threshold and is now determined to use the status of a nuclear power to bully countries it probably should not antagonize.

Now we watch as hundreds of thousands of North Koreans scream anti-American statements in Pyongyang.  We see the USS John S. McCain tailing the North Korean freighter Kang Nam, suspected of carrying nuclear contraband.  And of course, Kim Jong Il is bellowing that any attempt to stop it or interfere will result in total annihilation.  And he’s promising to shoot a missile in the direction of Hawai’i as a “4th of July” extra.

For some reason, I’m not yet terrified.

North Korea is quick to remind the world that they’re still not “at peace” with either South Korea or the United States.  The Korean War, fought back in the early 1950’s, ended not in a peace treaty, but in an armistice.  A cessation of hostilities.  A truce that has, for nearly 60 years, prevented any peaceful, easy feelings south of the 38th Parallel.

In fact, the Korean War began on this day…June 25, 1950.  When World War II ended, the Soviets accepted the surrender of Japanese soldiers in the north, where they promptly set up a Communist regime.  In the south, it was the United States as the overseer, and democracy was the order of the day.  Of course, two such opposing ideologies were bound to clash, and there had been numerous border skirmishes in the year leading up to full-out war.

The North Koreans justified their attack as an act of defense, claiming their borders had been crossed.  The U.S. responded quickly to reinforce South Korea, and began what would become a three-year war of immense frustration.

Sixty years later, the situation is as tense as it ever was.  North Korea vacated the 1953 armistice in May, and South Korea looks to the north, nervously wondering and waiting.  And North Korea’s trigger, the Kang Nam, continues to sail, shadowed by the U.S. Navy.

I would imagine we won’t have to wait too much longer to see how this plays out.

General Stilwell Takes Over on Okinawa

A year ago, we discussed the death of General Simon Bolivar Buckner.  In command of the U.S. Tenth Army (comprised of both Army and Marine Divisions), the General had been killed in the closing days of the Battle of Okinawa (on June 18, 1945 to be precise).  He had gone out to visit the front and see a bit of the closing action, but was felled by shell-fire from one of the few remaining Japanese artillery units.

Marine General Roy Geiger took over for the fallen General as a temporary replacement until an Army General could be brought in.  The man chosen was a bit of a surprise.  General Joe Stilwell.  Stilwell had gained fame (or infamy, depending on who one asked) in the jungles of Burma.  In May of 1942, he led (on foot) the exodus from Burma as it was being overrun by the Japanese.  And over the next two-and-a-half years, he worked to retake it and open the Burma Road in order to supply Chiang Kai-Shek’s forces in China.

There was no questioning his military prowess.  In fact, his acceptance of the responsibilities in Southeast Asia probably cost him the chance to have General Dwight Eisenhower’s role in the Mediterranean and Europe…he was that capable.  But Stilwell didn’t mix politics and warfare (a trait sorely needed in Ike’s position), and it got him into immense trouble.

General Stilwell clashed (and clashed badly) with Chiang Kai-shek, considering him to be a corrupt leader with no idea of how to lead an army and no real desire to do so.  Kai-shek constantly hounded President Roosevelt to sack his intolerable subordinate, and get “Vinegar” Joe’s thorn out of his side.  And Roosevelt resisted…until October of 1944.

The President needed to assuage the growing hostility between the two and, since he couldn’t replace the Chinese leader, he replaced his own and Stilwell was out.

Now usually, when a General loses his command, his career is largely over.  He still serves in some capacity, but it usually involves a desk, and the chance at major command is gone.  Stilwell, however, hadn’t lost his job because he had made grievous mistakes as a General.  So when Buckner was killed, Stilwell was the “unnatural” choice to be brought in.  He took over command on June 23, 1945, and served the remainder of the War.

Recommended Reading:  The Burma Road – Webster’s book is a concise, well-written account of the much-ignored, but important theater.

The Fall of France Finalized in Compiègne

It had been a disaster from the first shot.  ”Complete debacle” was probably a better term.  From the moment the German vanguard passed through the supposedly impenetrable Ardennes Forest in May of 1940, the collapse had begun.  The Netherlands were the first to surrender, buried under the weight and power of German bombs.

The Belgians were the next.  The loss of their massive fort at Eben Emael (which we will discuss next May) was a huge blow to the collective confidence of the military and the populace, though they would hold out until the end of the month.

The British were next to feel the pain.  Their evacuation at Dunkirk, though a miracle of logistics and survival for the troops, was accompanied by a devastating loss in equipment, fuel, and pride.

And then focus was turned to the French, who fared no better.  Poorly trained to fight Germany’s style of war and poorly supported by a nation with no real desire to sacrifice another generation to the bullets of an enemy, their fall was just as inevitable as those who had fallen before.  After Dunkirk, the German forces turned south and a little west and rolled toward Paris, which they captured without a shot.

And then came the final humiliation on June 22, 1940.  The signing of the Armistice…and Adolf Hitler had spared no detail in his attempt to recreate the armistice that Germany had been forced to sign (by the French) when World War I ended.  The disgrace had to be complete.  So Hitler chose the Compiègne Forest as his location, where the Armistice had been signed in 1918.  He chose the very same railroad carriage and, in fact, sat in the exact same chair that Ferdinand Foch had used.  And Hitler didn’t even remain for the signing.  In a diplomatic “slap in the face”, he walked out of the railcar and left the final signing to General Keitel.

And then the site of these two signings was obliterated.  All traces were removed (except Ferdinand Foch’s statue, which Hitler wanted that left in place to disgrace Foch).  The railcar was taken to Berlin and, shortly before the war ended, it was destroyed and its remains buried.

Recommended Reading: Lightning War

Like a Timex, Fort Stevens Takes a Lickin’…

Fort Stevens was built in 1863…during the Civil War.  It remained in service until 1947…just about the time the Cold War was heating up.  Situated near the mouth of the Columbia River, it was one of a series of forts designed to guard against British aggression.

British?!?  In Oregon?!?  In the 1860’s?!?

Yep.  At this time there were boundary disputes between the United States and Britain over the San Juan Islands.  It’s a group of islands there in northwest Washington where the state sort of “hooks” to the south and then the west.  Right there between the U.S. and Canada.  And so, fearful of yet another conflict, the U.S. Army contructed Fort Stevens.

And once the fort was built, arguments would arise about where British-controlled Canada ended and American-owned Alaska began (one wonders how the U.S. and Britain ever became friends…), so again, the Fort served as a deterrent to British aggression.

In its nearly 85 years of service, Fort Stevens served only as a watchdog.  It never fired its guns in anger.  But that’s not to say it was never fired upon.  It was…just once.

On the evening of June 21, 1942, the Japanese submarine I-25 sailed past the fort.  The sub had already spent a lot of time in the area, actually venturing into the Columbia river to attack shipping.  In fact, the night before, she had attacked a Canadian freighter, putting a torpedo in it and forcing it back home for repairs.

And on this night, she upped the ante and took aim at Fort Stevens with her 5.5 inch main gun.  But her crew was apparently much better with torpedo solutions than aiming guns, because they did little more than damage the fort’s baseball backstop and knock down some power lines.  And then I-25 slipped off into the night, without Fort Stevens so much as shooting off a sparkler in her direction.

This incident gave Fort Stevens the distinction of being the only military installation on the continental United States to be fired up during the Second World War.  And I’ll bet it didn’t earn I-25’s crew any citations for marksmanship.

Recommended Reading:  The Fort Stevens State Park website – A good site, with an account of that “harrowing” night of combat with I-25.

Stalin Ignores “Bundle of Joy” From the Storch

As spring gave way to summer in 1942, the German High Command prepared to launch another major offensive against its bitter enemy…Russia.  Having been checked at the gates of Moscow the following winter and pushed back in the brutal cold, German leadership considered it a mere “consolidation” of their forces.

But the time to push had again arrived.  “Fall Blau” (Case Blue) was the name given to the summer offensive that set to begin on the 28th of June.  All along the southern front, the German Army would be on the move, looking to take control of the Kursk area, Kharkov, and ultimately, Stalingrad.  Simultaneously, forces would head for the vast (and vital) Caucasus oil fields.  Thirteen full armies were deployed for the operation, and it was hoped that the forces currently fighting around the port city of Sevastopol could finish their work and also be available.

It was a very ambitious plan that, when launched, met with fantastic early success.  But it was nearly a complete disaster.

On June 19, 1942, Major Joachim Reichel, a German staff officer, decided to fly to one of the final planning meetings.  Somehow, he became disoriented and ended up behind enemy lines.  His small plane, a Fieseler Fi 156 Storch (shown above), was hit by enemy fire and down it went.  Surviving the crash landing, Reichel was quickly captured…along with the full operational documents of XXXX Panzer Corps in Fall Blau.

The Russians soldiers couldn’t believe their find, and rushed the plans through the chain of command. In no time, they were sitting on Joseph Stalin’s desk.

And Stalin poo-pooed them.  Ever suspicious of nearly everyone and everything, the Soviet dictator believed this incident to be just a trifle too contrived.  There was no way a officer with the rank of Major would be carrying plans of this nature…in a completely unarmed plane…in Soviet-held territory.

Stalin was convinced it was a ruse…and so he did nothing.  Nine days later, he discovered he was wrong.

Recommended Reading: The Eastern Front – Day By Day, 1941-45 – Without question, one of the most indispensible resources available on the Russian campaign.

The U.S. and Britain Begin the Fight Anew

It’s a super-brief lesson today, but mostly because we’ve covered the salient details already.

In 1812, it was becoming more apparent that the United States and Great Britain were heading toward war again.  The British government was arming Native Americans in the territories that settlers were trying to claim.  They were forcing U.S. citizens (former British subjects) to fight in their navy.  And they had set up an economic blockade of France (with whom they were at war already), cutting America off from a major trading partner.

All of these things were viewed pretty dimly in the halls of Congress and in the White House.  On 1812’s first day of June, President James Madison went before Congress, outlined Britain’s transgressions and violations, and asked for a declaration of war.

And on June 18, 1812, the United States declared war on Great Britain.  At the time, it probably seemed like a pretty good idea.  Britain was already locked in a deadly war embrace with France, which was led a little man named Napoleon (not this Napoleon, this Napoleon).  If ever there was a time for a newly-formed country to go to war, it was when the enemy country was already tied up in war with someone else.

But foresight isn’t nearly as good as hindsight, and the War of 1812 wouldn’t begin all that well for America.  And by 1814, the situation would look downright bad.  But it would end in memorable fashion.

Recommended Reading: Jackson’s Way

British Bloodied Badly at Bunker Hill

For many Americans Colonists, the time for “words with the homeland” was over.  By the time June of 1775 rolled around, clashes with British soldiers in Massachusetts had already left Colonial blood pooled on the ground.  It was now time to fight.  A Continental Army had just been formed and, on the 15th of June, George Washington was chosen to lead it.

The 15th was also when the Colonists received word that the British were looking to take control of the Charlestown peninsula.  On it were Breed’s Hill and Bunker Hill, which would give the British the strategic high ground, overlooking Boston and its harbor.  Armed with this advanced information, General William Prescott decided to get there first and, under the cover of night, he and 1,200 of his men made for Bunker Hill and began building an earthen works to serve as “musket ball absorption” material.

And as dawn broke on June 17, 1775, everyone got a surprise.  When British General William Howe arrived with 2,400 soldiers, he was shocked to see his enemy in an advantageous position (on the high ground) and waiting for him.  For his part, General Prescott was shocked to see that he and his soldiers were not dug in on Bunker Hill, but rather on neighboring Breed’s Hill.  I suppose digging in the dark with an 18th-Century map as a guide could get one into trouble.

General Howe may have figured that, if the Colonists couldn’t get their hills straight, they couldn’t shoot straight, either.  So, once out of their transport (a British frigate) and on solid ground, Howe marched them into battle and discovered he was only 50% right.

It’s reported that the famous words, “Don’t one of you fire until you see the whites of their eyes!” were said by General Prescott at this point.  But even if he didn’t, accounts bear out that the Colonists waited (almost too long) to fire.  And when they did, they pushed a British force twice their size back down the hill.  The British regrouped and again charged, but were again repulsed with heavy loss.

General Howe’s third attempt however, was successful.  The Colonists, now out of ammunition, had no way to further defend their positions and were forced to abandon them.  And once the British Regulars took the hill, they held the high ground and put lead and powder into the Colonial retreat.  In fact, a majority of the casualties among the Colonists (100+ dead, 300 wounded) occurred during the retreat, when they were most exposed.  But the Continental Army, still in its infancy, had stood its ground against a vastly superior force that was better equipped and better trained.

And as General Howe looked back at his path up the hill, he saw the bodies of nearly 250 men and officers lying still on the slopes.  He would have also seen more than 800 men with injuries, slight or grevious.  Howe’s Pyrrhic victory would be the last direct frontal assault the British would attempt in the Revolution.

Recommended Reading:  The American Revolution Website – All Revolution, all the time.

The Deadly Venom of the Coastal Saipan

As we’ve seen, June 5th of 1944 was “get it moving” day for the massive invasion fleet crossing the English Channel to its date with destiny on the French coasts of Normandy.  We’ve alluded to how much effort was required to make the landings of Operation Overlord even possible, much less successful.  And that was to move 160,000 assault troops little more than 100 miles.

But June 5th was also the day another invasion force left port.  But it didn’t face a 100-mile journey to its landing beaches.  This invasion force was for Operation Forager, and it departed from Pearl Harbor.  Its destination was the island of Saipan…nearly 3,000 miles away.  And so, while Overlord saw a much larger assault force landed on its first day, Forager’s invasion fleet was actually larger (to carry nearly all the supplies for the entire operation).

Headed up by Admiral Kelly Turner and Marine General “Howlin’ Mad” Smith, the invaders of Saipan would comprise the 2nd and 4th Marine Divisions and the Army’s 27th Infantry Division.  These men would face Yoshitsugo Saito’s 30,000-man 43rd Infantry Division.  But of special significance to the Americans was the presence on Saipan of Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, who led the attacks on Pearl Harbor and Midway.

The invasion force arrived on the June 13th, and the battleships and cruisers began their pre-invasion bombardment.  But as we know, shelling an enemy hidden in caves is difficult…and shelling an enemy hidden in caves of coral is even more difficult.  In addition, the ships (fearing large artillery and mines) fired from 5 miles or more away, which affected their accuracy.

And the Japanese, who had long known that Saipan might be a likely target for invasion, had carefully laid out their defenses.  They ranged their guns, putting little flags in the ground (and in the water) to mark the distances.  So when the 2nd & 4th Marines hit the beaches just after 7:00am on June 15, 1944, the enemy was waiting with a bunch of men and guns not silenced by the Navy’s bombardment.

The Marines had to fight through murderous fire and barbed wire but, by evening, had established a beachhead.  And that night, as in so many of these island invasions, a large banzai counter-attack was launched.  But while terrifying to behold, these attacks were generally easily repulsed with solid machine gun and mortar fire.

The Marines were on Saipan to stay…but subduing the Japanese would be far more difficult and take much longer than the estimated three days.

Recommended Reading: D-Day in the Pacific

Goin’ to Carolina in My Mind

Today’s History Lesson is likely to be brief.  Well, as brief as a name like Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier will allow.  Every time I wrote the name Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, it’d be like adding another paragraph to the piece.  So I’ll just use his title and, once I do that, not only will the lesson maintain its brevity, the person behind the name will probably become more familiar.

The Marquis de LaFayette.

Remember him from the American Revolution?  The Frenchman’s participation in our War for Independence was the product of some “cloak-and-dagger” action.  In December of 1776, Silas Deane (an envoy from the Colonies to France) had struck a deal with de LaFayette to lend his military expertise to America’s fight for freedom.

But things got complicated.  King Louis XVI, whose was already in a bad way with the British, was concerned about further angering King George.  So he forbade the 19-year-old military man from leaving the country, and ordered him to join his father-in-law’s regiment.  LaFayette tried to leave anyway…and was preparing his own ship for departure (the Colonies were too poor to even pay for his transit), when the police swept in to arrest him.

LaFayette disguised himself as a tourist.  Not actually, but he tried to make himself look as much like an innocuous courier as possible.  He eluded capture and made his way to Spain.  From there he set sail for America, where the next drama unfolded.

The ship he boarded had to stop in the West Indies to sell cargo, and LaFayette, facing arrest there, simply purchased the ship’s cargo, and ordered it delivered to the Colonies.

On June 13, 1777, the Marquis de LaFayette stepped onto American soil in South Carolina.  He would journey north, join Washington’s army, endure Valley Forge, and serve with distinction in the Continental Army.

We’re sure to discuss this man again.