February 23, 1945

Worth A Thousand Words: Or, In Some Cases, Even More Than That.

Last Friday we mentioned that February 19th was the anniversary of invasion of Iwo Jima, the tiny hulk of volcanic rock just 750 miles south of Tokyo. Hitting the beaches with the Marines that morning was a short, bespectacled photographer for the Associated Press named Joe Rosenthal. Risking life and limb to tell the story of the struggle to the American public, Rosenthal followed the Marines inland, unwittingly about to capture one of the most iconic images in the history of photography, let alone warfare.

On February 23, 1945, Rosenthal climbed to the top of Mt. Suribachi and was fiddling with his film while some marines kicked around in the nearby debris. The men were going to put up a large American flag, replacing a smaller flag put up a little while before. Since every American in sight of the mountain had rejoiced at the first flag raising, and since the battle was still raging below the summit, Rosenthal had no idea he was about to witness a landmark in history. In fact, still not ready as the men were hoisting the pole, he thought he'd missed the whole show.

The story of the Flag Raising on Iwo Jima has been well chronicled, most notably and eloquently by James Bradley's Flags of Our Fathers. But Rosenthal's photo was not the only image of World War II to live on in history, so today, in honor of one of the Marine Corps proudest events, we'll look at some other notable photos that have outgrown the very circumstances they depict.

Confederate Dead at Devil's Den

This Confederate soldier fell in an assault on a rocky bottom near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, in one of the decisive engagements of the American Civil War. Or so the picture would have you beleive. The photographer, Alexander Gardener, posed the dead Southerner and his rifle at the photo site; he was killed somewhere else.



Today, you can go to Gettysburg National Military Park to visit the battlefield, and pose bodies of your own.

Execution of Sergeant Leonard Siffleet

This incredible picture catches an Imperial Japanese Army officer about to behead an sickly prisoner of war. You might want to keep this sort of damning evidence to your depravity from getting out right? In fact, moments before the officer ordered a nearby soldier to snap the photo.

Raising the Banner of Victory

Incredibly, the Soviets seemed to have an Iwo Jima-like moment of their own. Two soldiers, with the smoke of the raging battle in the background, climbed to the roof of the Reichstag and raised the flag of the Soviet Union over the city of Berlin in May, 1945. Even more incredibly, a photographer was there to immortalize the act.


Not quite. The picture was taken two days after the flag was first raised over the building. The photographer Yevgeny Khaldei hand picked the two men; one Russian, one Georgian (just like Stalin). You can see in the original that smoke was later added to the image, and a watch was removed from the right wrist of the soldier below. Multiple watches were a sign of looting, and what good communist boy would need to loot a watch?

Execution of a Viet Cong Prisoner


We thought we'd finish off with this picture of Chief of the South Vietnamese National Police Nguyen Ngoc Loan executing Nguyen Van Lem, a VC officer in Saigon during the Tet Offensive. Actually, we're only posting this picture for the student in a history course at Temple University, who showed this to our Editor-in-Chief as an example of American brutality in Vietnam.

In short, war is Hell, folks. Brave men and women risk their lives every day to show us just how horrible it is. These images don't need our stories or fabrications to enhance the horrors of war. What can not be forgotten, and what so often is, is the figures in the images are real people, flesh and blood. They had dreams and fears; virtues and short-comings; wives, sweethearts, mothers. Their experiences were terrible enough, to steal a phrase from Abraham Lincoln, "far above our poor power to add or detract."

February 22, 1797

Close But No Cigar: Or, When Will They Build the Chunnel?

We start the new week at Lies Agreed Upon by turning our attention to that tiny arm of the Atlantic that always seems to cause so much trouble for Europe's continental powers. At it's narrowest point, the English Channel separates Great Britain from France by a scant 21 miles. Yet this distance, lengthened by the renowned British sea power, has stymied countless invasion attempts, once prompting this quote from our boy Napoleon. Ask the sailors of the Spanish Armada just how difficult the task can be.

An American fighting for France is not an unfamiliar story to some of our readers, but few Yanks have fought under quite the same circumstances as Colonel William Tate. A South Carolinian of Irish descent, Tate's family had been murdered by pro-British Indians during the American Revolutionary War. In Paris after the war, the advocate of Irish Republicanism felt the best way to get back at the crown was to take up arms again.

Two frigates and two corvettes made up the French squadron, sailing under Russian colors, that set out from Brest in 1797 on the last invasion of Great Britain.

In January, 1797, as Napoleon Bonaparte prepared for his first invasion of Italy, a large French force had set out from Brest to land in Ireland. Hoping to incite the Emerald Isle's anti-British fervor, the weather (not the Royal Navy) forced the French to turn back. In spite of this, a smaller diversionary landing went ahead as scheduled.

Tate had been given command of the French Second Legion, 1,500 troops known as the Legion de Noire because of their distinctive dark uniforms. Even after the failed Irish Expedition, they slipped into the Channel aboard four French ships, hoping to land near Bristol on Britain's western coast. Bad weather forced them further north, and on February 22, 1797, Tate's men disembarked near Fishguard, Wales, the last foreign invaders to successfully land on British shores.

His ill-fated campaign was doomed almost from the outset. Among the Black Legion were over 600 irregulars, convicts who dispersed soon after landing to loot the local towns. Tate's problems were compounded by the discovery of stores of wine rescued from a Portuguese shipwreck by the locals a few weeks before. When British forces, made up mostly of volunteers, appeared before him the next day, Tate's command was severely depleted.

Tate arrayed his small force in strong defensive positions to face the oncoming enemy. Under command of John Campbell, 1st Baron Cawdor, the British initially planned to drive the French back into the sea. With only three cannon, however, Cawdor avoided a potentially deadly ambush when he held his men in the village for the evening. That night, their disheartened men scattered by drink and temptation, two French officers made their way into the town to negotiate a surrender.

The Royal Oak Pub in Fishguard, site of the British headquarters and French surrender negotiations during the brief invasion.

The next afternoon, with most of the town of Fishguard turned out to see them, the French forces laid down their weapons and began a march to prison camps in England. The last invasion of Great Britain ended almost without a shot, and the British even captured two of the four invasion ships. Local legend credits Jemima Nicholas, a townswoman armed only with a pitchfork, with the capture of 12 drunk French soldiers.





The grave marker of Jemima Nicholas, Fishguard, Pembrokshire, Wales.









Since the short lived landing at Fishguard, the English Channel and the Royal Navy have not only safeguarded Great Britain, but also caused her enemies to take on other daunting campaigns. Lord Horatio Nelson's victory at Trafalgar in 1805, for example, would come at the expense of French squadrons attempting to consolidate in preparation for a cross-Channel invasion. In 1940, German planes could not clear a path for the Kriegsmarine, nor knock the British out of the Second World War. In both cases, the conquest of Western Europe was halted by a narrow strip of water, a distance a well-trained army can negotiate in a single day's march.

Shameless Napoleon Quote of the Week

February 21-27, 2010

The first virtue in a soldier is endurance in the face of fatigue. Courage in the face of the enemy is only second.

Napoleon Bonaparte

Dead Admiral Quote of the Week

Love Your Lady.

Since we spent so much time at sea this week, we felt it was fitting to find a quote from a man who served on the waves. Commander-in-Chief of the American Pacific Fleet during World War II, Admiral Chester W. Nimitz knew a thing or two about keeping ships in fighting shape. Badly damaged by enemy planes during the Battle of the Coral Sea in May, 1942, many thought the USS Yorktown would be out of action for months. Known to her crew as "The Fighting Lady, Nimitz's ordered repairs on the flattop to be carried out around the clock, making her seaworthy in time for the pivotal Battle of Midway, fought just a few weeks later. Tongue planted firmly in cheek, Nimitz suggested how the process related to an old nautical tradition:

A ship is always referred to as a she because it costs so much to keep one in paint and powder.

February 19, 1999

A Long Time Coming: Or, What a Way to Treat a Pioneer.

Today the calender offers us a number of wide ranging topics to cover. On this day in 1945, nearly 30,000 Marines stormed a spit of volcanic rock known as Iwo Jima. Two years earlier, American soldiers first encountered German panzers in a small mountain pass near Kasserine, Tunisia, and were thrown back 50 miles. And, way back in 1674, the English and Dutch signed a treaty transferring possession of a small North American settlement known as New Amsterdam.





USMA portrait of Henry O. Flipper. In 1877, he became the first African-American cadet to graduate from West Point.




Nevertheless, we turn instead to another one of those personal stories that reflect so largely on men and nations as a whole. Born into slavery in Georgia in 1856, the cards seemed stacked against Henry Ossian Flipper from the start. Yet after the war he enrolled in Atlanta University, and reached out to a congressman for an appointment to the United States Military Academy. In 1877, Flipper became the first black cadet to graduate from West Point.

Assigned to the 10th Cavalry of the "Buffalo Soldiers," Flipper was the first African-American to command a unit of army regulars. His thoroughness and skill as an engineer shone through, and Flipper endeared himself to Captain Nicholas M. Nolan, his troop commander. For his part, the young lieutenant developed a bond with Mollie Dwyer, the sister of Nolan's wife. Sadly, fraternization with a white woman by a black man, even a competent Army officer, was still considered a grave taboo.




Lieutenant Flipper, sometime before his arrest. He proved his skills as an engineer when he drained the malarial swamps that surrounded his first post, Fort Sill, modern-day Oklahoma.





While it may have aroused suspicion and anger, Flipper's relationship with Dwyer did little to diminish his military success. He served with distinction during the Apache Wars, but afterward his duty separated him from Nolan, his friend and mentor. In 1881, at Fort Davis, Texas, Flipper came under the command of Colonel William R. Shafter, a man with no love loss for the black officer. Shafter immediately relieved Flipper from his position as quartermaster, setting the stage his downfall.

Sometime after Shafter took command, he ordered Flipper to keep a safe with the post's funds in his quarters. Flipper obliged, but soon noticed that over $2,000 was missing from the safe, and attempted to hide the discrepancy until the money could be found. Fearing the missing cash could be used to force him out of the army, Flipper even lied to Shafter about the incident. He was arrested, and although he was acquitted of embezzlement, he was dismissed from the Army for "conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman."

Flipper was shamed, to be sure, but spent the rest of his life trying to clear his name. At the time, the decision was upheld by President Chester A. Arthur, but in 1976, the Army reviewed the case and ruled the sentence had been too harsh. White officers who had committed worse crimes had not been so disciplined, and Flipper was awarded an honorable discharge. On February 19, 1999, almost 120 years after he was arrested, Flipper was granted a full pardon by President Bill Clinton.






Flipper before his death. After his discharge, Flipper continued his work as an engineer while trying to clear his name.




The story of Flipper, by all accounts a capable soldier, serves only to illustrate the racial issues that plagued not only American armed services, but the nation as a whole. The only black officer in the Army at the time, many felt Flipper had been railroaded by Shafter, but few spoke out against his arrest. Once again, the United State government was forced to atone for past offenses, but as usual it was too little, too late. Flipper died in 1940, with the Army still segregated, not knowing if his honor or rank would ever be restored.

February 18, 1861

Contradictory States of America: Or, How to Make Someone's Job Difficult.

Today the calender gives us the chance to examine the political structure of the one of the more interesting, if not short-lived, nations in history, the Confederate States of America. Jefferson Davis, a Mississippi Senator and West Point graduate, was given the daunting task of guiding the country through its infant, war-torn years. The task was made all the more difficult because Davis' position of President was at times contradictory to the very constitution he was sworn to uphold.


The inauguration of Jefferson Davis as the President of the Provisional Government of the Confederate States of America, as depicted by Harper's Weekly.





Inauguration Day, February 18, 1861 dawned warm and clear in Montgomery, Alabama. By 11:30, a soaring blue sky hung over the head of Jefferson Davis as he strode to the State Capitol, and one has to wonder if, from on high, Davis could feel George Washington looking down. "The Inaugural ceremonies," the New York Times reported the next morning, "were the grandest pageant ever witnessed in the South. There was an immense crowd on Capitol Hill, consisting of a great array of the beauty, military and citizens of the different states."

At the heart of Davis' task was running the new Provisional Government in a country that was founded on decentralization. The states that had seceded from the Union, and were preparing to go to war to defend their decision, claimed the Federal Government had infringed upon their individual rights. The new nation, they declared, would honor states' rights, the way they felt their forefathers had intended. For Davis, who before the war had argued against secession, this was no small roadblock.







Jefferson Davis.










Throughout his administration, Davis would find himself constantly at odds with his Congress, not to mention state governors. Moving troops from one department to another; agreeing on the allotment of defense funds; even devising a strategy that would not only ensure independence, but also save Southern lives and property (read: slaves), all were made more difficult by a reluctance to trust central government.

In his inaugural address Davis directly mentioned the states' reliance on militia, yet warned that a national army and navy must be raised. But even he might not have had the foresight to know that this army would need to be fed by conscription. Taking young men that could serve in the state militia for a cause so heinously federal as a draft endeared Davis to few. Later, when the government moved to Richmond, there would be further criticism that the Virginia theater took precedent over others. Instead of banding together against a common enemy, the Confederacy was plagued by in-fighting, suspicion, and jealousy.

Another constant headache for Davis would be the creation and validation of a national currency. By the time Lee surrendered at Appomattox, Confederate script was not worth the paper on which it was printed.

That February night in Montgomery, a reception was held in honor of the new president, and the city partied into the morning. "Bands...and fireworks...were the order of the evening," the same article from the Times reported. And the South went to sleep that night with dreams of a new nation in their minds; and in Congress the signatures of the delegates were drying on the newly ratified Provisional Constitution. It is doubtful if Davis knew that night just what fireworks that document might bring.

February 17, 1871

Passez la Champagne: Or a Conqueror's Guide to Paris.

Today we once again turn to our Gallic brethren to provide us with a chance to look at one of those events that seems to repeat itself throughout military history. Few cities in the world have the majesty, culture, and history of Paris, and surely few have evoked as much awe, envy, and even contempt. Throughout her history, the city on the Seine has been the target of a number of invaders and would-be conquerors.

Prussian soldiers march through Paris after the end of the Franco-Prussian War, February, 1871.

On February 17, 1871, Prussian troops celebrated their victory in the Franco-Prussian War with a parade past the Arc de Triomphe. The demonstration capped celebrations following the coronation of Wilhelm I, the first German Emperor. Fought mostly to unite Germany's southern kingdoms with Prussia against a common foe, the war was neither the first nor last period that saw foreigners march through Paris. To shake things up today, we'll take a look at some of the darker days in the City of Light.

52 BC:
During his conquest of Gaul, Julius Caesar crushes a local uprising led by the legendary Vercingetorix on the left bank of the Seine. A nearby settlement, named for the Parisii people, is renamed Lutetia by the Romans and begins growing rapidly.







Caesar is still in Paris, but only at the Louvre.








1420 AD:
During the Hundred Years' war, and after years of local popular uprisings, the English under Henry V capture Paris. Henry VI is crowned King of France at Notre Dame in 1429, and the English hold the city for seven more years.

The coronation of English King Henry VI as King of France. Note the fleur-de-lys on his crest.

1814:
After Napoleon's failed invasion of Russia, his enemies in the east followed him back to France, culminating in a parade through Paris. Czar Alexander I was at the head of the column.

Russians parade though the city after the War of the Sixth Coalition against Napoleon in 1814.

1871:
Following a four-month siege of the city, Prussian troops enter Paris, resulting in the coronation of Wilhelm I, and yet another parade. Here is an awesome description of the first Prussians entering the city, originally published in Blackwell Magazine and reprinted in the New York Times, December 10, 1893:

[One] came tearing up the hill. As he neared we saw he was a hussar officer...He charged past us, his sword uplifted, his head thrown back, his eyes fixed straight...By Jove if that fellow's mother could see him, she'd have something to be proud of!

The youngster raced on far ahead...[to] the Arch of Triumph...We caught sight of him on the other side through the archway, his sword high up, as if he were saluting the vanquished city at his feet.

The coronation of Wilhelm I, held in the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles, 1871.

1940:
After the Germans failed to capture the city during the First World War, Adolf Hitler makes sure Gay Paree sees the indemnity of a Wehrmacht parade in the Second. Later, with Allied armies closing in, Hitler orders the city to be destroyed, but Paris is spared by the military governor General Dietrich von Choltitz.

Hitler found the exact railroad car in which the Germans signed their surrender in 1914, and used it to hold the ceremony in reverse in 1940.

To be sure, Paris' position as the envy of Europe has put it in some perilous spots in the past. The last time foreign soldiers paraded through her streets, it was on a much more joyous note. On August 25, 1944 American troops, spearheaded by Free French forces, marched into the city to end the German occupation.

Americans march through Paris after the liberation in 1944. That familiar landmark is just visible in the background.

February 16, 1804

To the Shores of Tripoli: Or, New World Heroes in Old World Waters.

The USS Philadelphia burning in Tripoli Harbor during the First Barbary War.

Grab a life preserver folks, because this blog has been lost at sea for several days, and today shows no signs of rescue. Yesterday we discussed an event that was pivotal in the emergence of the United States as naval world power, so today we'll look back at one of the nation's first moments on the international stage.

Known for orchestrating the African slave trade and for providing safe haven to pirates, the Berbers on the North African coast had plagued Western empires for generations by the turn of the 19th Century. Powers like Great Britain and France avoided headaches in the Mediterranean by paying the Berbers to leave their ships alone. The new United States also payed exorbitant sums for the free passage of their vessels, since the US Navy had been decommissioned after the Revolutionary War.

After the inauguration of President Thomas Jefferson in 1801, the Pasha, or governor, of the Barbary States demanded a tribute of over $200,000. With a national budget of only $10 million and newly reinstated navy, Jefferson decided the era of ransom and tributes had come to a close. In response, the Pasha declared war on the United States, and American ships were sent to the Mediterranean in what would be known as the First Barbary War.

The Philadelphia, stranded in the harbor during the winter of 1803-4.

American naval vessels enjoyed enormous success during the war, but at the end of October, 1803, the frigate USS Philadelphia ran aground on a hidden reef in Tripoli harbor, modern day Libya. Attempts to free the frigate failed, and her crew was forced into slavery. Deciding that the ship was too great a prize to fall into the hands of the enemy, a plan was made to try and recapture her, or if that failed, destroy her.

On February 16, 1804, a small detachment of sailors and marines led by naval Lieutenant Stephen Decatur, Jr., snuck into the harbor in a captured Berber boat, pretending to be in distress. The trap was sprung when they neared the Philadelphia, as Decatur's men leaped aboard and into hand-to-hand combat with the Berber guards. A skirmish ensued, and a sailor named Reuben James cemented himself into maritime lore by jumping in front of an enemy making a lunge at Decatur.




Reuben James, at right in foreground, moves between his commander Stephen Decatur, bottom, and an enemy's raised sword on board the Philadelphia.






The Americans took control of the ship and burned her where she lay in the harbor. Decatur and James survived the brief battle, earning laurels as some of America's first heroes since the Revolutionary War. The feat gained so much notoriety that no less an authority than Lord Horatio Nelson, a year before his victory at Trafalgar, called the raid on the Philadelphia "The most bold and daring act of the age."

We understand that the last few days make this blog seem like a Navy recruitment poster, but the story of Decatur and his men deserved the spotlight today. In the United States' first venture overseas after gaining independence, the young nation showed the world that the standards set by powers like Great Britain and France would not always hold for Americans. Also, the actions during the First Barbary War inspired part of the Marine's Hymn, "From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli." Hopefully that proves to our readers that while we may cover the Navy from time to time, our true loyalties should never be questioned.

February 15, 1898

"Remember the Maine!": Or Extra, Extra, Read All About It.


The new week begins at Lies Agreed Upon with a pivotal day in the United States' growth as a superpower, and one of the most controversial events in modern military history. Since 1823, the Monroe Doctrine served as a warning to Europe that New World affairs would be handled in-hemisphere, protected and administered by the upstart Americans. By the turn of the 20th Century, the eyes of American industry had turned to interests in the Caribbean Sea, an area many hoped would soon be free of European competitors.

A little after 9:30 pm on a warm February evening in 1898, Captain Charles Dwight Sigsbee was likely turning in for the night in the harbor of Havana, Cuba. His command, the USS Maine, had been dispatched from Florida by President William McKinley to protect American possessions on the island. Cubans were in the midst of a revolt against colonial Spanish Rule, and the response from Spain, which had brutalized the local people, was beginning to affect American commerce.

The USS Maine entering Havana Harbor on January 25, 1898.

Cuba in particular was seen as the jewel in the crown of Latin America. With their western frontier rapidly vanishing, many in the US had designs on an overseas empire and felt the island could provide Americans with more territory. Situated just 90 miles south of Florida, the population of Cuba had been rising against its Spanish rulers since the 1860's. Northeastern newspaper publishers, such as Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst, began vilifying Spain and lobbying for American intervention in Cuba.

Since January, Sigsbee had remained anchored in Havana, waiting for further instructions or events to dictate his next move. The Maine had been sent despite the warnings of Fitzhugh Lee, American Consul-General in Havana and nephew of Robert E. Lee, that its presence was not only unnecessary, but also unwelcome. For three weeks, American sailors sat homesick and bored on her decks, wondering what would happen next. That night, as Sigsbee readied for bed, the wondering ended.

At about 9:40pm on February 15, 1898, the dark quiet of the Havana night was shattered by a thundering explosion. The Maine, anchored at her moorings, erupted in a blast that sent sailors and steel alike hurtling into the harbor. Later investigations would reveal that over five tons of gunpowder in the ship's magazine had detonated, ripping apart the bow. In his quarters at the aft end of the ship, Sigsbee was safe from the inferno, but most of his men were not. Of the 374 officers and men aboard that night, only 89 survived.

What is left of the Maine, sitting on the bottom of Havana Harbor.

Immediately, at the behest of newspaper headlines, Americans began clamoring for war. To many, there was little doubt as to who was responsible for the deaths of the ship and her crew. A rallying cry arose, exhorting the populace to "Remember the Maine! To Hell with Spain!" Although the sinking of the Maine was not listed as a cause of war, the Spanish-American War began just a few months later.

The real reason for the explosion has never been confirmed. At the time, the blast was blamed on contact with a floating sea-mine laid by the Spanish. Several inquiries have been launched since the incident, each of which came up with separate conclusions. Modern computer imagery and simulations have credited the blast to smoldering coal deposits in the Maine's engine room, which ignited the ship's magazine nearby. While conspiracy theorists have enjoyed speculating that the US blew up its own ship to start the war, it is clear that the Spanish most likely had nothing to do with the explosion.

To us at Lies Agreed Upon, the sinking of the Maine marks a watershed moment in American history. Prior to the explosion, many Americans had advocated the build-up of a blue water navy, one that could secure possessions overseas, then serve as the lifeline to a new American Empire. Inspired by Admiral Alfred Thayer Mahan's book The Influence of Seapower on History, which credited the British Empire largely to the Royal Navy, men like Secretary of the Navy Theodore Roosevelt saw America's future on the waves. When the war ended the US secured holdings in Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Philippines, beginning its rise to world superpower status.





The front page of William Randolph Hearst's New York Journal blamed the sinking of the Maine on "Spanish Treachery."





Also, the influence of the media in going to war is not to be understated. The oft-cited yellow journalism of publishers like Pulitzer and Hearst trumped up Spanish offenses and created slights where, perhaps, there were none. Hearst offered a $50,000 reward for information on the sinking in his paper the New York Journal. At the time, the public opinion of average Americans was influenced almost solely by the newspapers, the dominant form of media at the turn of century. Now, we see how the media can affect public opinion on the conduct of a war in our living rooms almost everyday. While it may not be the first time the press played a big part in an America at war, it is surely one of the most notorious.

Shameless Napoleon Quote of the Week

February 14-20, 2010

[When he died], Bonaparte offered up to God the mightiest breath of life that ever animated human clay.

Francois Rene de Chateaubriand

Dead General Quote of the Week

Lone Star.

The American Civil War was fought at a crossroads in time, where old-world tactics were meeting deadly modern technology. Climactic moments in huge engagements were often decided by men lining up across from each other and shooting it out. These tactics were accompanied by romantic illusions of duty, glory and personal honor. Showing your back in a fight, some considered, was a fate worse than death. After reviewing a parade of John B. Hood's Texas Brigade, a British colonel noticed that almost all of the men had worn through the seats of their pants. General Robert E. Lee told him not to worry:

Never mind their raggedness, Colonel. The enemy never sees the back of my Texans.

February 12, 1946

The U-Boat Graveyard: Or Why Germany Has To Stay in the Shallow End.

Well, we're almost afraid to show our faces around these parts lately, given this blog's laughable rate of production, but all the same we're proud to say that Lies Agreed Upon is back with a bang here in the middle of February. Call it a Valentine's Day gift to our wonderful readers, whose French sensibilities are soothed by the romantic. All the same, we appreciate your patience during this apparent "work stoppage."

We dive right back into the water today, and turn back the clock to a war ravaged Europe less than a year after Adolf Hitler's Third Reich had collapsed into rubble. One of the many steps it would take to rebuild the continent was getting rid of the countless pieces of war that Germany suddenly no longer needed. Tanks, vehicles, guns, planes (if there were any left), small arms; all the surrendered working parts of a war machine that had been dismantled. Included in the tally were over 154 vessels of the Kriegsmarine's prized U-Boat fleet.





Officers salute from the tower as U-107 sets out from Lorient, France, 1942.










U-Boats or Unterseeboote, were the scourge of the blue water at one point in the war, and for that matter, played the same role a generation before. Pan-European conflicts tend to make land powers like Germany susceptible to blockade, particularly when the British are fighting on the other side. Under both Hitler and Kaiser Wilhelm II, the Germans turned to unrestricted submarine warfare to break the blockade and cut England's lifeline to the outside world.

We enjoy the debate on the effectiveness of this tactic for two reasons, the first of which is the reaction of the United States. In both wars, U-Boats succeeded in sinking millions of tonnage and likely cost billions of dollars in losses, but in both conflicts they caused Germany to incur the wrath of a growing superpower. In 1917, knowing full-well what the response would be, the Germans unleashed their unrestricted subs on American ships and brought the U.S. into the war. Prior to Pearl Harbor, German wolf packs, or groups of subs, hunted in waters as far West as the Gulf of Mexico. This succeeded only in driving the U.S. to aid the Allies to the point of undermining her status as a neutral.

The sinking of the RMS Lusitania in 1915 caused outrage in the United States, and the Germans halted their unrestricted submarine warfare. When it resumed in 1917, it drove the US to enter the war.

To us, the cost of bringing an immensely powerful enemy into the fray is not covered by the success the subs did have. But what really pique's our interest about the U-Boat is the fact that Germany had to turn to them at all. Looking back, it was the build up of the Imperial German surface fleet that first alarmed Europe's established powers. At the turn of the 20th Century, the Kaiser's desire to launch a fleet to rival England's posed a challenge to the long recognized ruler of the waves. Yet when hostilities broke out, Germany was out of her league at sea and her new ships spent most of the war bottled up in port. As it happened, the oceans would be her downfall.

It was the oceans that brought the supplies an exhausted Britain needed to survive until 1918; that brought millions of fresh American troops when the First World War was still very much in doubt; that saved England from invasion after Dunkirk; that kept supplies from Rommel in North Africa; that carried thousands of tanks and planes to the Soviet Union on the frigid "Murmansk Run"; and it was from over the oceans that wave after wave of Allied troops came to places like Casablanca, Salerno, and Normandy.

Germany's designs on a surface fleet made her persona non grata at the European power table, but she never built an armada even close to what was feared. Because of this, she was forced to dive below the surface in two World Wars, thus creating more enemies than she could handle. On February 12, 1946, a little over nine months after the U-Boat fleet was surrendered, over 120 German submarines were scuttled in Operation Deadlight; blown up and sunk intentionally off the coast of Northern Ireland.




52 U-Boats are prepared for scuttling as part of Operation Deadlight, February 1946.









Germany had long desired a world renowned fleet, and the one scuttled in Deadlight was infamous indeed. But designs on a navy caused an exhaustive world war and planted the seeds for the vengeance-fueled second. The fleet they got might not have been exactly the one the Germans pictured, but it brought on a host of enemies just the same. When the U-Boats were finally scuttled it was the end of a sad chapter in naval history, and closed the book on Germany as a world naval power.

Shameless Napoleon Quote of the Week

January 24-30, 2010

Wherever wood can swim, then I am sure to find this flag of England.

Napoleon Bonaparte

Dead General Quote of the Week

A Worthy Adversary.

This Dead General Quote of the Week comes from the commander of the Deutsches Afrika Korps, Field Marshall Erwin Rommel. Rommel's panzers fought a see-saw battle back and forth across the Libyan desert against General Bernard Montgomery's British 8th Army for almost two whole years. Made up mostly of Commonwealth troops, men from all over the British Empire became the Desert Rats needed to flush out the Desert Fox. After one battle, Rommel himself commented on the tenacity of these men gathered from around the globe:

Give me two Australian Divisions and I will conquer the world.

Rommel in his Afrika Korps gear. Note his trademark: captured British desert goggles, donned solely for PR purposes.

Dead General Quote of the Week

Good Advice.

Just a quick Dead General Quote of the Week to assure all our readers out there that we are indeed still in production. Here is one of our favorites from Frederick II, King of Prussia, better known today as Frederick the Great. This is known to be one of George S. Patton's favorite quotes. Stay tuned for more posts.

L'audace. L'audace. L'audace. Tujuors de l'audace.


Audacity. Audacity. Audacity. Always Audacity.