I endeavoured to follow through my readings of the Vietnam conflict, from my last post, with a shopping excursion to right my centre of gravity and ensure that I tackle the history from every angle – well, more than one. Being a historian first and foremost this is part of the obligation that is owed to the seriousness of the subject, apparently. I, of course, am not a historian, but I can read and do and pretend at the writing part.  My esteemed colleague, of the Secular Sundays posts, lent me his encyclopaedic knowledge of sixties and seventies American writings with a collection of Michael Herr-equalling shots of literature to vacuum up my soul into the US Armed Forces. Two things happened to impel a slight discursion on my Nam – centric world view.

• Firstly, while perusing the four epic floors of Hodges Figges (certainly they must have every book in the world) I found (as is normal practice for me) I couldn’t find two of the books on my list. Being a total independent I refused to ask for help from the staff, so I started to flick through the recently published section. My United States historiafied mind saw David Halberstam’s The Coldest Winter sitting in a paperback edition, then sitting on the shop counter and then travelling to my home in a paper bag. I forgot to continue looking for the books I came in for; I plowed through the sharp chapters of Halberstam and fell into the Korean War.

• Secondly, I discovered the flawless work of stunning breadth that is Generation Kill, David Simon and Ed Burn’s (The Wire in television, The Corner in non-fiction gold-medal genius) play-like adaptation, of the book of the same name, following a first recon division in the Second Iraq conflict; as they weave through the desert mess of former-Mesopotamia and founder in the incompetence of the United States strategic armed forces.

Halberstam, very sadly, passed away not long after he finished work on this tome. I had for a long time meant to pick up just one of his many searing topical books, which tackle US history. The Coldest Winter is a lengthy walk through the miserable counter-Soviet, counter-Communist mess that was the three year Korean conflict. A prelude to Vietnam and the half a dozen later skirmishes with Soviet imperialist agenda, the Korean War was as much an aberration of modern war as it was a dynamic statement of US hegemony in East Asia. Akin to Nam, where the terrain was as much hostile as the opposition, Korea was simply staggeringly poor conditions. One of the major themes of the book (and which I intend to pursue in a later post on Korea) was the ineptitude of Douglas MacArthur. True the man was very old at this stage, but to say he was mildly sluggish when the North invaded in the South, would be an understatement. I found myself once again agog that MacArthur was so immune to any negativity: having recently read Max Hastings authoritative work on the final stages of the US pacific campaign of WWII, Nemesis, were Hastings depicted MacArthur as, definitively, a loose cannon, and, likely, insane. It was interesting (read: horrifying) to see this consistent interpretation of the Pacific Supreme Commander, and American warhero, continue into the opening pages of The Coldest Winter.

I could not fail to draw comparisons to Michael Herr’s withering portrayal of MACV which spent its time effectively trying to make it appear as though the Americans were winning when they were clearly not. MacArthur, following absurd decisions carried over from the pacific campaign, deliberately refused to use any intelligence that did not specifically agree with his own strategic opinion. This fantasy existed until it was fatal, and then frequently was ignored – though MacArthur was eventually found out in Korea. Most of this madness was rolling around my mind when I sat down and watched the first three episodes of Generation Kill. Not surprisingly the themes reappeared with the narrative following the grunts on the ground in Iraq, as they encounter the Ba’athists in a sea of despairing locals. Once again the strategic objective is poorly actioned, or hopelessly ignored. This, of course, does not lessen the impact of this finely crafted story. I mentioned above that it has a play-like feel to it – and this is no joke. Absolute rivers of dialogue materialise and hang around the scenes. In a similar way to how, say, Tarantino pours forth the open conversations, walling in the tale; Generation Kill is hilarious and serious in equal measure. I shall wander through the rest of the episodes, as I sit and wait out The Pacific which lands next month. I wonder how they will deal with MacArthur in that programme.

A World of Computers

Networking is a significant impediment on my life. I have been offline for what seems an age, in reality a shocking three and half weeks. Often the issue, when I am down and out from the interweb, is the catastrophic nastiness that is wireless networking devices. LAN is just so much more logical. Anyway, Happy New Year to one and all: may they be technologically flawless.

Before Christmas I was nattering on about the German soldier, which was jumping up all over my radar due to their involvement in Afghanistan. Similarly, there is a deal of talk these days about the return of the Russian to the forefront of international relations. Given this, I thought I might look at an aspect of Russian history that has always stood out to my mind.

The Fallen Man

The Russian consistently has it difficult. History is enamoured by the imaginative character; the sweeping independent figure that explodes out of the text, whether they be morally staunch or fractured. Often the narrative is militaristic: civilisations story is epic, but always deeply antagonistic. Pick up any history of a nation and the fountain of war will be buried in layers, appearing at constant intervals, shaping the scene, ending cycles, moulding the next age. There is a tremendous consistency. So too with the protagonists. The brilliant generals rise above the fold and capture a distinct position in the text. Frequently they are significantly divisive persons, usually ruthless, amoral, troubled; but yet personable, loyal (when they see fit), and often entertaining – in the humorous, intelligent way. They are also all extremely quick to action. If you were to require one particular skill, based on historical reference, to succeed as a general (baring luck, which is not a skill but you know what I mean) it would likely be the ability to react with alacrity. They were all shockingly fast: Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, William of Normandy, Genghis Khan, Edward the Black Prince, Napoleon Bonaparte, Erwin Rommel, etc, etc.

You will note, having keen eyes, that no Russian is included in that list. I am probably being remiss avoiding the name of Georgy Zhukov who (to many historians) was the finest general of the Second World War. But so little is known of this individual that it is difficult to assess him in the same way as the aforementioned commanders. Indeed, my point is that Russian military figures throughout history are consistently shadowy and seem to conform to a different mould than their contemporaries. Peter the Great is romantic certainly but as a leader he was more brash and wilful than any of the above traits. He is remembered more for his westernising of Russian society and his landmark urbanisation. Militarily he was involved and had some successes in his Northern War – though not to any major degree. Across the history of Russia there are few figures that stand up as remarkable generals, with the Soviet Union an improvement but still weakly compared. It is interesting, this fact, given the military nature of the Soviets and size and capability of its former armed forces.

Though, however, Russia has lacked in dynamic generals they have displayed an extremely powerful common soldier. Unparalleled courage remains the essence of the Red soldier: very few combatants attacked as consistently as the Soviets during the war, though their lack of ingenuity damaged them frequently. Following the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the armed forces fell into decline in Russia (as did much else) and it is – as mentioned – only lately that this decline has begun to halt. Russia was massively affected by the Global Financial Crisis of Sept. 2008; they have been significantly reliant on the sale of petroleum and gas for their GDP for a long and with the crisis came a massive decrease in the costs of energy. Coupled with the share loss every globalised country saw – bar China and India – Russia is in major difficulties. And yet, they have re-entered international relations with a jolt. It is not easy to see why they have done this, though most commentators with an understanding of the Russian mindset (with analysis I agree with) believe that it is because the average Russian citizen requires their nation to be sufficiently strong in the world, or deemed to be strong, and will accept nothing less. Regardless if that strength is fact or fiction. These same commentators believe that Putin and Medvedev are jostling for position to retain their mandates. Their may be the whiff of electoral fraud any time United Russia goes to the polls, but their will be no United Russia without a world-leading Russian nation.

The above is an interesting line quoted by Hitler in the second or third year of the Second World War. Memorable for its brevity, yet comprehensively encapsulating the reality of the German fighting machine. Hitler threw it out during the planning stages for Operation Barbarossa, when clamped up spartanly in the forested fortress of the Wolfsschanze, the eponymous Wolfs Lair. In a way it is a throwaway line, consistent to the megalomaniac Furher’s distorted faith in German dominance. But the fact of the matter is the German soldier was considered the finest of the war. This is in almost every respect: courage, order, imagination, alacrity and probably most of all counter attacking initiative. This final one is sufficiently exemplified by the Battle of the Bulge, following several months of consistent allied pressure, and having clearly lost the war, they almost completed a rout, bizarrely; it said a great deal about the Wehrmacht. Of course, they did not complete this rout, nor win the war. It’s somewhat unsettling to consider but baring the tremendous over extension of Barbarossa it might have been a different war following the D Day landings of June ’44.

But Hitler refused to ignore the Soviet landscape and his burning ambition to both claim ‘unlimited living space’ and defeat the image of an unconquerable Russia. His multiple tactical errors, outside of the original decision to even begin the war, were devastating to the campaign. A refusal to plan for winter quarters (odd given the somewhat bleak Russian climate), indeed a refusal to even assign winter clothing; all based on the absurd view that once they ‘knocked in the door, the whole thing would come crashing down’. All of which led to the inevitable stall, followed by the grinding down of the Wehrmacht. Far too much was left by Hitler to the Lancer’s of his armed forces: thus ignoring major field requirements like contiguous supply lines and comprehensive artillery support. The Panzer brigades (tank units) were there of course, but not as effective as they had been for the first two years of war. Again the landscape was murderous to mechanised units, but also a major issue was the T-34, the Soviet’s finest tank, considered the best general purpose vehicle of the Second World War. Still, having begun to lose by the winter of ’41, having launched the offensive that summer, they held on for a savage period of time given the circumstances.

The story of the failure of Barbarossa is wide-spread, and the German capitulation at Stalingrad and ultimately the Soviet Union, was significant to their war effort. They were effectively pushed back from that point onwards. But yet, and this is clear from reading across many books dealing with the period, the German soldier remained consistently difficult to break down. There are savage critics of the allied contingent, which shines a positive militaristic light on the Wehrmacht, with the US forces in particular viewed as frequently impotent. There were consistent issues around getting soldiers to push forward in battles (as apposed to hanging back and waiting for artillery to pound defensive positions into submission) and it was well known throughout the war that the Allies often preferred not to fight at night. This allowed the German’s shocking freedom of movement knowing they had from sundown to organise positions. And movement in battle is about as important as you can get. Not dissimilar to today, the U.S. relied on technology and vastly outnumbered all belligerents with regard to the fertility of their assembly lines. Though often their vehicles were only moderate in capability. The Sherman tank was relatively weak, certainly when compared to the Tiger Mark II and T-34. The Hellcat and Mustang were solid fighter planes, though inferior to the Japanese Zero and German Messerschmitt. Of course, the U.S. B-29 Superfortress murdered everything, so that is an exception. The Allies were infuriated for much of the war by their infantry weaponry, in that they were poorly: the British PIAT and U.S. Bazooka, which were hugely inferior to the German Panzerfaust – a constant menace to allied tanking.

Bit of an aside there; my main point remains that the German soldier was a solid fighting machine. Today their armed forces are minimal. American bases are situated across Germany, with few major local military outposts. With the European Union’s movement to a standing army there is of course an expectation that the largest population centre of the Union would contain the largest assignment of man power. Time, even the short drift of decades, makes for significant change. However, the return of a German military is not new in that they have a prominent place in NATO’s campaigns across Afghanistan. Newsweek record the figure at several thousand. Not surprisingly they are understood to be very effective.

Internationally there would be an expectation that progress would be reached by dialogue and concessions – the US and indeed the rest of the globe have sufficient cause to reduce their armaments bills, in the face of difficult economic conditions. I believe that the whole world views the Obama administration as capable of achieving positive results on this issue. What is difficult to comprehend is why it must take the election of an inclusive, communicative president to visualise the possibilities of severe reductions in nuclear proliferation?

To my mind the United States has treated every emergent nuclear nation from the Manhattan Project to the present (bar Britain and Israel) as a potential rogue state – this includes France. That is not to say such treatment is unwarranted in all cases, but that the US position is difficult to maintain as it presupposes that all emergent nuclear nations are inherently dangerous. There is no question some of them most certainly are – but the comprehensive distrust of all betrays a fear of any nation’s potential power by gaining the weapon. This is made apparent in the case of North Korea, which seems to have gained significant bargaining conditions with its twin weapon tests: the detonation of nuclear materials and the long range missile testing (which could potentially, when successful, carry a nuclear warhead within range of the United States). The recent sentencing and imprisonment of two US journalists also seem to be an extended attempt at gaining leverage at the bargaining table.

Why does the United States deal with nuclear issues in this fashion? One can only assume it relates to the cold war. Spending so many years in an arms and intelligence race against a power sufficiently adept at achieving results clearly affected the policy decisions of the US defence secretariats. Soviet scaremongering in the 1962 crisis occurred due to the perceived youth and inexperience of John Kennedy (which was displayed a few years previous in the botched Bay of Pigs disaster) – it is notable that the United States currently has a similar president. I believe that the cold war alone is not the complete issue though; it is conceivable that the United States, the only material operator of the nuclear warhead, remains at odds with the device, following its comprehensive and cold blooded use in 1945. Many historians contend that the US public were deeply troubled by the use of little boy and fat man – and it is not within the bounds of disbelief to propose that the United States has never fully shook the psychological impact of death on such a vast, and technologically cold, scale.

See my previous post – Winter in a Nuclear World

The 1960’s saw the preliminary steps of the non-proliferation treaty. Its basic condition was that nations forgo preparations for the construction of a nuclear device, and in return the five nations that already had them would discontinue their operation, over time. The obvious problem with this treaty was the lack of a defined timeframe for the five nuclear nations at its centre. None of these nations have terminated their nuclear regimes, though some have reduced their capacities. How these nations intended on fulfilling this treaty is a mystery. The world watched the foundation of a planet free from the prospect of nuclear warfare, only for it to collapse in a dismal mess.

Today the treaty is still the only active piece of diplomacy dealing with this issue. The nineties saw a much more, well, comprehensive endeavour in the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT), which called for a complete end to the testing of nuclear weapons. But the treaty stalled; amidst consistent argument assaying the pointlessness of having a treaty one can break in private by failing to announce the tests. However, time and technology have eliminated this concern: seismographs (as apparent from the news reports) now read any shift in the earth, or sea, that could be caused by a nuclear detonation.* The factors are now at hand to maintain the CTBT and highlight any signatory who errs from its provisions. The United States (along with Russia, easily the most important signatory of such a treaty) has delayed its ratification since the treaty’s inception in 1996: the reason, as described above.

There now remain no impediments. With a US and Russian signature (Russia, controversially it must be said, seem more than willing participants) the elements could be set for the eradication of nuclear weaponry in the 21st century. Certainly, in my opinion, tremendously welcome news.

* I understand that the recent detonation was captured on seismographs in Austria in a matter of minutes. It is thought that any detonation on the planet is no more than a few hours from a similar record.

What may seem like a harmless title to many, seems to me an imperative order (indeed grammatically it is: ‘think happy thoughts’). I don’t like to be told what to do. It goes against my grain like a razor blade on velvet. As an Irish citizen, I reserve the sacrosanct right to wallow in my absolute misery. It’s an endeavour that we’re pretty good at as a nation. Centuries of practice has genetically ingrained it, so that it comes as naturally to us a double-check kissing does to Italians.

‘Think Happy Thoughts’ seems to be part of a co-ordinated campaign to lift the nation’s mood and, more importantly, consumer sentiment. The song’s being used now in an ad for a well-known brand of processed cheese slices that were utterly passé in the heady days of  Celtic Tiger Ireland. (I’d like it on record that I NEVER stop using these cheese slices, never caved in to the status-anxiety pressure of the Bries and Gorgonzolas. You should have seen the grotesquely contorted look of vomit-churning disgust on the faces of my dinner guests when I produced a cheese board of these slices back in the cash-decadent days of the boom. Absolute classic). And yet now these cheese slices are back in the mainstream after all those years of obscurity! The girls and boys in advertising are linking childhood (a time when many of us where relatively poor but didn’t have to worry about such things as negative equity) with cheaper products. Insidious.