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A Gulf War memoir that captures the poetry and peril of flight.

Within days of Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait, the far reaching arm of American airpower sprang into action. The skyscapes of the North Atlantic, Europe, and the Mediterranean became laced with the contrails of great jets flowing day and night toward the Persian Gulf. From the skies, manpower and material poured onto the bleak sands under the ominous clouds of the gathering storm, and in only a few weeks the size of the effort eclipsed that of the Berlin Airlift.

The thousands of crewmembers flying the jets, as well as those servicing and managing them, became the backbone of history’s largest air logistical operation. Many of these men and women were Air Force reservists, and the author participated as a pilot of a C-141B Starlifter with the Mississippi Air National Guard.

Cockrell writes lyrically about flying and about the emotional and intellectual satisfaction enjoyed by those who fly. His focus is on the people recalled to active duty, who flew thousands of hours, coping with fatigue, cracked wings, missile attacks, and, in some cases, deteriorating businesses and families at home. Tail of the Storm gives expression to their love of flight, as well as their dedication to the endangered values of duty, honor, country. This story is good reading—not only for those who share the author’s enthusiasm for flying but also for those who read for pleasure and have a curiosity about a pilot’s world.

Examines Japan’s war generation—Japanese men and women who survived World War Two and rebuilt their lives from memories of that conflict.

Since John Hersey’s Hiroshima—the classic account, published in 1946, of the aftermath of the atomic bombing of that city—very few books have examined the meaning and impact of World War II through the eyes of Japanese men and women who survived that conflict. Tattered Kimonos in Japan does just that: It is an intimate journey into contemporary Japan from the perspective of the generation of Japanese soldiers and civilians who survived World War II, by a writer whose American father and Japanese father-in-law fought on opposite sides of the conflict.

The author, a former NPR senior editor, is Jewish, and he approaches the subject with the sensibilities of having grown up in a community of Holocaust survivors. Mindful of the power of victimhood, memory, and shared suffering, he travels across Japan, including Hiroshima and Nagasaki, meeting a compelling group of men and women whose lives, even now, are defined by the trauma of war, and by lingering questions of responsibility and repentance for Japan’s wartime aggression.

The image of a tattered kimono from Hiroshima is the thread that drives the narrative arc of this emotional story about a writer’s encounter with history, inside the Japan of his father’s generation, on the other side of his father’s war. This is a book about history with elements of family memoir. It offers a fresh and truly unique perspective for readers interested in World War II, Japan, or Judaica; readers seeking cross-cultural journeys; and readers intrigued by Japanese culture, particularly the kimono.
 

This transcribed and edited wartime diary of Robert L. Brown—a trained journalist who served as public relations staff and assistant director at the Manzanar concentration camp—reveals the thoughts and perspective of the jailer, providing a window into the views of the local population around the presence and experience of a concentration camp for Japanese Americans in their community. In addition to the heavily footnoted diary, the book includes a prologue, introduction, and epilogue from Arthur A. Hansen, providing context for the journal as well as how Hansen came to transcribe the work with Brown’s blessing.

A departure from the typical recovered narratives from incarcerees, Brown’s diary is a historically significant primary source that provides insight into camp administration and local community relationships with Manzanar and a rich primary source for specialists in the field of Japanese American incarceration.

The first English language history of China's Most Important Battle in World War II

In April 1944, Imperial Japan launched Operation Ichigo to secure a transport route linking Japanese forces in northern China and Southeast Asia, while eliminating American airfields in the region. The Japanese army quickly overran Chinese resistance and pushed fast toward the city of Hengyang, a key railway junction in south-central China. The Battle of Hengyang began on June 23, 1944. With just 17,000 troops and besieged in an area of less than ten square miles, the Chinese 10th Army held off a Japanese force totaling more than 110,000 men, supported by aircraft, tanks, chemical weapons, and artillery, for forty-seven days. The fighting was among the most savage of the entire Second World War. Hengyang finally fell on August 8, but the Chinese defenders and undaunted American pilots had stopped Ichigo’s momentum. The Japanese military’s failure to quickly conquer such a small city led to the fall of Japanese Prime Minister Tojo’s cabinet in July 1944, ultimately weakening Japan’s resolve to prosecute the war. News accounts compared the battle to the German defeat at Stalingrad in its ferocity and to the Battle of Suiyang, the most famous siege in ancient Chinese history. 

In the aftermath of World War II, the battle was erased from Chinese history books since Communist propaganda insisted that only they, not the Nationalists, had successfully resisted the Japanese. But the survivors, both soldiers and civilians, kept the battle alive in their memories, and during the early part of the twenty-first century, the truth of Hengyang was finally presented to the Chinese people. The Battle of Hengyang: Japan’s Fateful Siege of World War II by Shifen Fox is the first English language history of one of the most important battles of the Second World War. The author returned to China where she interviewed survivors and children of survivors, read private letters, and had access to normally closed archives; in addition, she read memoirs written by Japanese survivors and referenced Japanese historical records. Learning late in life that her father perished in the battle, she also explains how the role of her father and this heroic defense was censored by China, but more than eighty years later has now been restored to its place in Chinese and world history. 
 

An updated edition of a popular study of the Comanche Code Talkers of WWII.

Among the Allied troops who came ashore in Normandy on D-Day were thirteen Comanches in the 4th Infantry Division’s 4th Signal Company. Under German fire they laid communications lines and sent messages in a form never before heard in Europe: coded Comanche. For the rest of World War II, the Comanche Code Talkers played a vital role transmitting orders in a code the Germans never broke. Drawing on interviews with surviving members of the unit, their training officer, and fellow soldiers, as well as archival records, William C. Meadows traces the Comanche Code Talkers from recruitment and training through wartime service and into their postwar lives. He also places their story within the broader history of Native American code talking in the world wars, comparing the Comanche program with the better-known Navajo Code Talkers and examining the military’s use of Native languages for secure communication.

This twenty-fifth anniversary edition adds a new chapter and photographs documenting long-overdue recognition for the Comanche Code Talkers, in the form of congressional medals, museum exhibits, films, and memorials, along with updates in several areas that clarify the development of code talking, add key details of the unit’s history, and highlight the enduring legacy of these soldiers and their linguistic contribution to Allied victory.

In 1917, shortly after the United States’ declaration of war on Germany, Guy Emerson Bowerman, Jr., enlisted in the American army’s ambulance service. Like other young ambulance drivers—Hemingway, Dos Passos, Cummings, Cowley—Bowerman longed to “see the show.” He was glad to learn that the ambulance units were leaving for France right away.

For seventeen months, until the armistice of November 1918, Bowerman kept an almost daily diary of the war. To read his words today is to live the war with an immediacy and vividness of detail that is astonishing.

Only twenty when he enlisted, Bowerman was an idealistic, if snobbish, young man who exulted that his section was made up mostly of young “Yalies” like himself. But he expected the war to change him, and it did. In the end he writes that he and his compatriots scarcely remember a world at peace. "The old life was gone forever. . ."

Guy Bowerman’s unit was attached to a French infantry division stationed near Verdun. Sent to halt the German drive to Paris in 1918, the division participated in the decisive counterattack of July and tracked the routed Germans through Belgium. Then, “unwarned,” Bowerman and his comrades were “plunged into … a life of peace.” Into this life, he writes, they walked “bewildered,” like “men fearing ambush.”

This remarkable chronicle of one young man’s rite of passage is destined to become a classic in the literature of the Great War.

Examines the domestic and international use of phenoxy herbicides by the United States in the mid-twentieth century.

In The Defoliation of America: Agent Orange Chemicals, Citizens, and Protests, Amy M. Hay profiles the attitudes, understandings, and motivations of grassroots activists who rose to fight the use of phenoxy herbicides, or Agent Orange chemicals as they are commonly known, in various aspects of American life during the post-WWII era. Hay focuses her analysis on citizen responses to illuminate how regulatory policies were understood, challenged, and negotiated, contributing to a growing body of research on chemical regulatory policies, risk society, and hazardous chemicals. This volume uncovers new understandings about the authority of the state and its obligation to society, the role of scientific authority and expertise, and the protests made by various groups of citizens.

First introduced in 1946, phenoxy herbicides mimic hormones in broadleaf plants, causing them to “grow to death” while grass, grains, and other monocots remain unaffected. By the 1950s, millions of pounds of these chemicals were produced annually for use in brush control, weed eradication, forest management, and other agricultural applications. Pockets of skepticism and resistance began to appear by the late 1950s, and the trend intensified after 1962 when Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring directed mainstream attention to the harm modern chemicals were causing in the natural world. It wasn’t until the Vietnam War, however, when nearly 19 million gallons of Agent Orange and related herbicides were sprayed to clear the canopy and destroy crops in Southeast Asia, that the long-term damage associated with this group of chemicals began to attract widespread attention and alarm.

Using a wide array of sources and an interdisciplinary approach, Hay contributes to the robust fields of chemical toxicity, regulation, environmental management, and public health. This study of the scientists, health and environmental activists, and veterans who fought US chemical regulatory policies and practices reveals the mechanisms, obligations, and constraints of state and scientific authority in mid-twentieth-century America. Hay also shows how these disparate and mostly forgotten citizen groups challenged the political consensus and contested government and industry narratives of chemical safety.
 

Analyzes the link between “civilized warfare” and the American self-image

Linda R. Robertson argues that the development of the United States as a global military power arose from the influence of an image of air combat carefully constructed during World War I to mask the sordid realities of modern ground warfare. The Dream of Civilized Warfare carries this trajectory to its logical end, tracing the long history of the American desire to exert the nation’s will throughout the world without having to risk the lives of ground soldiers—a theme that continues to reverberate in public discussions, media portrayals, and policy decisions today.

In Echoes of Trauma, medical anthropologist Gwenn Jensen traces the longitudinal ramifications of racism, the chronic stress of imprisonment in concentration camps, and widespread healthcare inadequacies on the well-being of Japanese American Nisei during WWII and beyond.

Based on ninety oral history interviews conducted between 1995 and 2005, Jensen’s work uncovers long-term health impacts on former incarcerees, relating personal stories of Japanese Americans with archival corroboration of their traumatic experiences of having been made prisoners in their own land. These memories illuminate the betrayal and lifelong consequences of imprisonment not only on physical and psychological health but also including intergenerational trauma passed on to subsequent generations. Echoes of Trauma details these short- and long-term health effects and records the stories of these Americans for posterity.

In the wake of the current political climate, with echoes of this past reverberating, the reexamination of Japanese American incarceration undertaken here underscores the importance of comprehending the fallout from incomprehensible injustice visited upon innocent and law-abiding citizens.

WINNER OF THE 2009 LITERARY AWARD, SPONSORED BY THE INTERNATIONAL NAPOLEONIC SOCIETY/LA SOCIETE NAPOLEONIENNE INTERNATIONALE OF MONTREAL, QUEBEC'S LITERARY COMMITTEE

The fascinating story of the breakdown of the Spanish empire in America and the rise of the United States as a world power

Napoleon’s last campaign didn’t end at Waterloo. After that fateful day on June 1815, hundreds if not thousands of veterans of Napoleon’s army emigrated to America. Many went farther south and joined the rebels fighting for independence in the Spanish colonies, from Mexico to Buenos Aires. The Bonapartists roiled the Western World as they sought fortune, fame, and glory in the expanding United States and in the tumultuous Spanish Americas suffering from repression and civil disorder, and even in the states of Europe. They were joined by adventurers from other nations who shared their admiration for the fallen emperor.

This is the first full-length examination of the Bonapartists who emigrated from France after Napoleon’s defeat and exile, who formed a loose confederation with adventurers and romantics, and who contemplated a new empire in the Western Hemisphere. The scheme had the support and encouragement of the fallen emperor himself and his brother Joseph, former King of Spain, who lived in exile in the United States.

Emilio Ocampo has examined archives on three continents and sources in several languages to ferret out the evidence—a monumental task considering that conspirators tried to leave no evidence of their plans, and that a failed plot, like failure in general, leaves few claimants. Ocampo reinterprets Latin American independence as an international event that drew in all the major powers. By illuminating the complex connections between the shattered France of the Bourbon restoration; an England threatened by radical politician inspired by the French Revolution; Napoleon in exile at St. Helena; the United States, where home-grown adventurers and French émigrés alike saw opportunity; and the collapsing Spanish colonial empire, where revolutionaries were allying themselves with the veterans of Napoleon’s Grande Armée, Ocampo brings together two bodies of scholarship: Napoleonic history and Latin American independence. He does so by tracing the steps of four of the most fascinating characters of the era: two Britons disaffected with their own government—Lord Thomas Cochrane and Sir Robert Wilson—and two former generals of Napolean’s army named Charles Lallemand and Michel Brayer.

The Emperor’s Last Campaign is a fascinating story, well told, and peopled with all sorts of improbable characters and schemes that perhaps just missed coming to full fruition but that in the process contributed to one of the most important events of the nineteenth century: the breakdown of the Spanish empire in America and the rise of the United States as a world power.

Seventy-Five Years Ago, the Last American Soldier Who Paid the Ultimate Price for Desertion
A New Edition of the Acclaimed Investigative Story 

In August 1944, a drab convoy of raw recruits destined to join the 28th Division lumbered along a windy French road strewn with dead animals, shattered bodies, and burning equipment. One of those draftees was 24-year-old Eddie Slovik, a petty thief from Detroit who had spent his youth in and out of reform schools. Eddie's luck had recently changed, however, with a steady factory job and marriage to a beautiful girl who gave Eddie hope and security for the first time in his life. But their honeymoon—like that of many other wartime newlyweds—was interrupted by the call to service. The convoy came under intense artillery fire, and in the confusion Slovik became separated from his unit. He joined a Canadian outfit and traveled with them before finally reporting to the 28th Division. He carried a rifle but no ammunition. He was assigned to a platoon but walked away. Refusing to kill, Slovik was arrested, court martialed, and condemned to death. Hundreds of soldiers were tried for desertion during World War II and sentenced to die, but only Eddie Slovik paid the price, supposedly as a deterrent, yet word of the nature of his death was never officially released to the public.

In The Execution of Private Slovik, considered to be among the best investigative books ever written, journalist and author William Bradford Huie reconstructs this entire story with the full cooperation of the U.S. Army in order to find out what made Eddie Slovik an unlikely pacifist and why the affair was covered up. Through interviews with those who knew him and the hundreds of letters to his wife, the author reveals a hard luck depression-era kid who when faced with the reality of war realized that he simply could not kill another human being. Throughout, Huie reveals how Eddie Slovik's death has much to tell us about life and duty to one's country. This edition marking the seventy-fifth anniversary of the sentence being carried out, contains a new introduction by the author's daughter.

Praise for The Execution of Private Slovik:

"In the hands of an expert, who writes both passionately and with an almost transparent effort to be fair to all concerned, the story raises questions to which our wisest leaders still lack satisfying answers."
—New York Times

"A remarkable story reported by a master."—W. E. B. Griffin 

"Recommended reading for all military historians."—Military Affairs

"Tremendously moving."—The Atlantic

"It is very likely that William Bradford Huie's The Execution of Private Slovikwill long survive the official histories of World War II. It is a big book and Mr. Huie deserves some sort of rich reward for this unburying of an incident of the war which must disturb us all. For Slovik was more than a 'coward.' He not only did not want to die but he did not want to kill, and one must look far in literature for a figure so moving as Private Slovik wandering about Europe not with bullets in his cartridge belt but with writing paper. The question is not 'How might we improve military procedures?' The question is, 'What has happened to love in our world when he who would rather love than kill must die?'"—from a letter to the New York Times

Essays mapping how modern art confronts mortality in an age of war and annihilation.

While much about modernism remains up for debate, there can be no dispute about the connection between modernist art and death. The long modern moment was and is an age of war, genocide, and annihilation. Two world wars killed perhaps as many as 100 million people, through combat, famine, holocaust, and ghastly attacks on civilians. The ongoing COVID-19 pandemic is the fifth global pandemic since 1918, with more than a half-million American deaths and counting.

It can hardly come as a surprise, then, that many of the touchstones of modernism reflect on death and devastation. In Philip D. Beidler’s exploration of the modernist canon, he illuminates how these singular voices looked extinction in the eye and tried to reckon with our finitude—and their own. The Great Beyond: Art in the Age of Annihilation catalogs through lively prose an eclectic selection of artists, writers, and thinkers. In 16 essays, Beidler takes nuanced and surprising approaches to well-studied figures—the haunting sculpture by Saint-Gaudens commissioned by Henry Adams for his late wife; Luchino Visconti’s adaptation of Mann’s Death in Venice; and the author’s own long fascination with Beckett’s Waiting for Godot.

The threads and recurring motifs that emerge through Beidler’s analysis bridge the different media, genres, and timeframes of the works under consideration. Protomodernists Crane and Twain connect with near-contemporary voices like Sebald and Morrison. Robert MacFarlane’s 21st-century nonfiction about what lies underneath the earth echoes the Furerbunker and the poetry of Gertrud Kolmar. Learned but lively, somber but not grim, The Great Beyond is not a comfortable read, but it is in a way comforting. In tracing how his subjects confronted nothingness, be it personal or global, Beidler draws a brilliant map of how we see the end of the road.