The cost of Liberty

Last month I reviewed some books about D-Day and the men who fought to liberate Europe.  And that's usually how we like to remember the story: bravery, sacrifice, and victory; Allied armies pushing back a merciless Nazi army and liberating grateful Europeans.  And the liberated people were very grateful and recognized the magnitude of the sacrifice.  But, as they say, "war is hell," and not least of all for occupied peoples, and not all Europeans remembered it so fondly (when they chose to remember it at all) with dancing and celebrating in the streets. 

The Bitter Road to Freedom: A New History of the Liberation of Europe by William I. Hitchcock explores the experiences from the civilian perspective, starting with D-Day.  By the time Allied forces invaded the beaches of Normandy, the French had already endured weeks of bombing meant to soften up the Germans, but just as often destroying French cities and towns. When the Allied armies broke through they were greeted warily by the surviving farmers and townsfolk who'd lost many family and friends, as well as any chance of feeding themselves. As the battle slowly moved into Belgium, the soldiers suffered through a bitterly cold winter but received a warmer reception from the people. And in the Netherlands, starvation was rampant and many survived by eating tulip bulbs.  It was a perfect example of how liberation doesn't solve everything, and a huge part of the population nearly died from lack of food when relief supplies were delayed in shipping. 

But it was even worse on the Eastern Front.  The brutal Nazi push across Poland and to the outskirts of Moscow, and the even more brutal push back by the Red Army across Poland to Berlin made a horrific mess of Poland.  The depravity by both the German and the Russian soldiers was beyond extreme.  UNRRA tried to care for the civilian casualties, but it was an enormous task and, sadly, liberation didn't always mean an end of suffering.  One sad fact of the agreements made with Stalin (remember: he was our ally at the time) was that DPs (Displaced Persons) were to be returned to their countries of origin.  Trying to force people who were reluctant to return to areas now ruled by Soviet Communists was an especially unenviable task. 

Of course, the experiences of the Jews in the concentration camps are covered, too.  Many were kept in the camps for more than a year after liberation because they couldn't be cared for elsewhere.  The lives they had led previously in Europe had been irredeemably lost, so they now fought for a Jewish homeland in Palestine.

This is not a book for the squeamish or faint of heart.  Armies on all sides were guilty of inhumane treatment - some more than others - but whether it was a "righteous" war or not, it inflicted a terrible cost in human suffering. This isn't a "complete" history and can seem a bit academic, but is still an excellent portrayal of the "dreadful ugliness of war." It is similar to Year Zero by Ian Buruma, but with a view confined mostly to Europe.  At times I thought Hitchcock seemed overly critical of America and the Allies, and I was disappointed that the Marshal Plan was mentioned only once in passing, but he always tries to explain the situation and give the appropriate background on why specific actions were taken.  At any rate, this book certainly has it's place among the histories of WWII. (I received an advance copy from Amazon Vine, and I'll review a book about the Marshal Plan - a much happier book - soon.)

Barnstorming with lawyers

Back in 2007 I picked up a used book called Kill Devil Hill: Discovering the Secret of the Wright Brothers.  Written back in the 70s by Harry Combs, an accomplished pilot, it challenges the commonly held view that the Wright brothers were merely bicycle "tinkerers" who barely stumbled into the air ahead of the competition.  Combs describes the two brothers as coming from a close-knit and supportive family who found out through trial and error that all the principles others had "discovered" were wrong.  Through genius and talent (and three years of hard work) the brothers figured out the true scientific principles of aerodynamics, became the first in history to achieve true flight (sustained, powered, and controlled), and ushered in the modern age of flying.

Then, in 2008, I found another used book called Unlocking The Sky: Glenn Hammond Curtiss and the Race to Invent the Airplane by Seth Shulman.  Glenn Curtiss was the primary rival of the Wrights, and Shulman portrays him as a series of opposites: shy and unassuming, yet a master PR man always entertaining the press; the "beloved son" of Hammondsport, NY, who frightened and angered everyone by testing noisy contraptions and racing motorcycles around town at breakneck speeds; and an honest and upstanding citizen violating patent laws for the "greater good" of mankind.  Shulman spends so much ink attacking the Wrights that he doesn't even manage to adequately describe Curtiss.

The fact is that what happened in December 1903 on the sand dunes near Kitty Hawk, NC, was monumental.  Wilbur's (and Orville's) genius at solving the problem that had stumped so many others for millennia was truly remarkable.  But Lawrence Goldstone portrays them as mere mortals in Birdmen: The Wright Brothers, Glenn Curtiss, and the Battle to Control the Skies - and it isn't always heroic and triumphal.  He describes the Wrights as clannish and Wilbur as overbearing, but we see them most through their heavy and frequent use of the legal system.  Wilbur sought to monopolize the invention with a broad "pioneering patent" that would have required licensing fees of any who soared on his coattails.  And even though Glenn Curtiss soon improved upon the methods of control (developing many of the improvements that are still in use today), he became an especially hated rival and target of the Wright's attacks.  The legal storm that arose cast a heavy shadow over the aviation industry in America, and lead to health problems and an early death for Wilbur.

Although it only covers the early years of aviation - from the lead-up to Kitty Hawk and through the first World War - this is a pretty wide-reaching history.  (For a book that discusses the subsequent period, see The Aviators.)  This was a time when the public's thirst for air shows and events was at its highest and created celebrities of the pilots in the barnstorming circuit.  Goldstone profiles not only the Wrights and Curtiss but many other prominent and largely forgotten individuals: early pioneers such as Otto Lillenthal, Samuel Langley, and Octave Chanute who inspired and shared information with the Wrights; visionaries such as Thomas Baldwin who put his faith in balloons and invented the parachute; and scoundrels like Augustus Herring who made a fortune by deception (including selling the information he stole from the Wrights to Curtiss).  And of course, there's the daredevils such as Lincoln Beachy, who thrilled audiences with his death-defying stunts - as well as his death.

Unfortunately, I thought the book suffered from a too-wide reach of history.  It's an interesting chronicle, but the Wrights are generally cast as greedy villains while Curtiss never became more than a cardboard figure despite his prominent role in nearly everything.  While the Combs book was probably accurate but overly-praising, the Shulman book suffered from inaccuracies and too much venom.  This book is probably very accurate as well, but it felt like a little too much dirty laundry.  (That's my opinion, but the book is generally receiving more positive reviews from others.)  I'm not saying a book shouldn't expose the truth even when it's ugly (and I'm not questioning Goldstone's facts or motives), I'm just saying I didn't enjoy it as much as I wanted to.  (I received an advance copy from Amazon Vine.)

Blessed are the peacemakers

Ever read a book that challenges the way you think about the world?  Like who the good guys and the bad guys are?  If you're Christian, you probably think of Israel as one of the "good guys," and shake your head at what they put up with from "those who hate them."  I can't count the number of times I've heard people admiringly tell how "Israel doesn't take crap from anyone," and they aren't afraid to go after their enemies wherever they are.  We sometimes claim to admire Ghandi's nonviolent resistance, but more often we cheer the heavy-handed force of standing up for yourself.  But of course, there's always two sides to every story (and this book really only mentions the other side, and doesn't moralize about the conflict).

Actually, it's really a book about spies, but not the James Bond type.  Because Robert Ames didn't fit the image of a spy.  He was a family guy with six kids and was faithful to his wife.  Nonetheless, he was probably the most influential operative the CIA ever had in the Middle East.  He was fluent in Arabic and grew to love the people and customs of the area.  He didn't "recruit" many agents, but the friends he made were some of the most important people in the region... even if they were terrorists.

One of those friends was Ali Hassan Salameh, a Palestinian who was Yasser Arafat's right-hand-man.  But the PLO was considered a terrorist organization and Salameh (aka, "The Red Prince") was head of the Black September group that was responsible for kidnappings, hijackings, and even the assassination of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics.  Ames convinced Salameh to stop attacks against Americans with the hope of US support for Palestinian refugees.  But Salameh was assassinated by Israel in 1979 and Ames was killed when a suicide bomber (a tactic which was still uncommon then) blew up the American embassy in Beirut in April 1983, killing 63.  When 299 died in October in the attack on the US Marine barracks, America lost its appetite for intervention in the region.

The Good Spy: The Life and Death of Robert Ames by Kai Bird is an excellent portrait of not just Robert Ames but of American involvement in the Middle East in the 60s thru the early 80s (including the Iranian hostage crisis).  And Bird makes a good case that if we ever had much influence in the region, it was because of Bob Ames.  He understood the feelings on both sides, and the friendships he made (particularly Mustafa Zein and Salameh) gave America influence with Arafat at a time when even speaking to the PLO would have created a political scandal.  Having only been in high school at the time, I found the book especially enlightening.  Lebanon was constantly in the news back then, and the news was never good, but now I think I understand why a little better.  

But lest you think this is an anti-Israel book, it actually feels like a more balanced perspective.  Ames may have been overly sympathetic to the Palestinians, but he wasn't blind to their crimes.  And Bird points out that Israel has only itself to blame for the creation of Hezbollah, and the roots of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks can be traced back to some events when we didn't condemn the brutalities perpetrated by our ally.  I thought it was an interesting read on how the events of the late 70s and early 80s shaped events that have happened since, and it's really caused me to think.  And mostly I think it's unfortunate events couldn't have turned out differently.  (I received an advance copy of this book from Amazon Vine.)

Aiming high

One of my favorite movies is Follow Me, Boys! with Fred MacMurray as Lem Siddons.  He's a travelling musician (but studying to be a lawyer) who makes a fateful decision to get off the bus in Hickory, a charming small-town middle-America kind of place.  (Heck, I'd have gotten off the bus, too!)  He volunteers to be the Scoutmaster, impresses the sweet and beautiful Vida in the process, and makes a wonderful life for himself and is a positive influence for the town's boys through the years.  I don't know if towns like Hickory ever really existed, but I like to think that that's how life used to be (and ought to be).  

Even though I had some good Scoutmasters like Lem Siddons, and even though I loved reading Boy's Life cover to cover each month, I was never a very good scout.  Maybe the problem for me was that Scouting was an ideal, but the reality was allergies on campouts and having to hang out with a few obnoxious kids I'd rather avoid.  Or maybe passing off requirements and earning advancements wasn't a priority in my troop - either that or I just didn't "get it."  Still, even if it didn't work for me like it was supposed to, it doesn't mean we shouldn't aim for the high ideal, even if we fall short, and the movie showed the ideal of how Scouting could work.

Somehow I stumbled upon The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts by John Finnemore, a fun story that showed how Scouting works.  Dick Elliott, a kid from the well-to-do part of town, and Chippy, a "wharf-rat" from the poor part, become great friends in spite of their differences because of Scouting.  The two even take a long hike through the English countryside, living by their wits and always remembering to "do a good turn daily."  There's plenty of danger and the boys run into a few bad guys, but they use the skills they've learned to triumph - and even catch a foreign spy.  Granted, the book is quite dated (it was written in 1908) and is in the adventure style of books like R.M. Ballantyne's The Coral Island, but it illustrates how the Scout Law can be a guide and how it can improve boys lives.  Plus, it was actually kind of fun to read - being one of those boy's adventure tales - even if it's a bit overly idealistic.