.. a IT-� ·

' INDIANA. MILITARY HISTORY

JOURNAL

INDIANA HISTORICAL SOCIETY

Volume II Number I

January, 1986

F521_146_VOL11 N01 Indiana Military History Journal is published by the Military History Section of the Indiana Historical Society, 315 West Ohio Street, Indianapolis 46202. Ed itorial offices for the Journal are at the Department of History, Purdue University, West Lafayette, Indiana 47907. Gunther E. Rothenberg is ed itor. All contributions should be sent to this address. Manuscripts should be prepa red in accordance with The University of Chicago A Manual of Style (13th edition). The Indiana Historical Society, the Military History Section, and the editor disclaim responsibility for statements of fact or opinions made by contributors.

The Indiana Military History Journal serves as the organ of the Military History Section and carries news of the Section as well as articles, documents, pictures, and book reviews relating to Indiana's military past, the military history of the Old Northwest, and the activities of Hoosiers in the armed forces of the United States in war and peace. In addition, the Journal will carry articles on military history topics in general which impacted on the state or region. It is hoped that the Journal will increase the reader's appreciation of the military heritage of the state and the nation.

Military History Section Boa rd of Directors

Mr. Wayne··Sanford, Chairman Mr. Thomas B. Williams Ill 8718 Old Town Lane Drive 3203 Dogwood Lane Indianapolis 46260 Carmel 46032

Col. Jerry L. Sargent (USA, Ret.), Vice-Chairman Col. William Scott (USA, Ret.) 334 Grovewood Place 6433 Hoover Rd., Apt. A Beech Grove 46 107 Indianapolis 46260

Dr. Gunther E. Rothenberg, editor Maj. William J. Watt Department of History 2240 Rome Drive Apt. B Purdue University Indianapolis 46208 West Lafayette 47906 Rev. William 0. Harris Dr. George W. Geib 723 Clarendon Place 4737 Cornelius Avenue Indianapolis 46208 Indianapolis 46208

Col. J. Robert Sutherlin (USA, Ret.) 6078 Garver Road Indianapolis 46208

The Journalis sent to members of the Indiana Historical Society who participate in the Military History Section. All the material in this Journal is copyrighted. Copyright, 1986, Indiana Historical Society.

Cover: After the horrors at Valley Forge one of Gen. George Washington's preoccupations was providing the army with suitable clothing. Both utility and pride in appearance were important considerations when on New Year's day of 1778 he ordered his colonels to instruct the tailors in their regiments to begin produc­ ing standardized dress for the troops. The motivations of one such tailor/ soldier are the subject of this month's lead article by Thomas M. Barker. This picture comes from So/diPrs ofthP A rnnican RPvolution: A Sknchbook, published by the Department of the Army's Center for Military History l '

FROM THE EDITOR'S DESK

This issue, Volume II, No. I, has been produced with some difficulty. There still is no replacement for the editorial assistant and catching up on classes since the editor's return from Australia has proved more time consuming than expected . Even so, the editor hopes that readers will find the present issue interesting. The article on the revolutionary soldier from Massachusetts should be seen in the light of previous articles published on Revolutiona ry War events. This time the focus is on a man in the ra nks, perhaps the most important element in any army and representing the men who after the war moved west to settle, among others, the Hoosier State. The article on the Flying Tigers, presented by one of our most productive members, Arville Funk, delineates one episode of World War I I, while the article by our former editoral assistant, Kevin Reid, tells of the initial combat experience by a federalized National Guard Division committed to combat in North Africa. This mix of articles shows that the JOURNAL is open to contributions on many topics and that it welcomes, indeed is in need of, submissions by the membership. We welcome articles of moderate length; all manuscripts should be double-spaced; and citations should follow the format previously used in the JOURNAL. Ordinarily the text should not exceed twenty-five to thirty pages, though shorter and longer submissions will also be considered. In addition, the JOURNAL will also consider journals, letters, and other memorabilia relating to the military history of Indiana and the surrounding region, keeping in mind that military history does not merely include the activities of the armed forces, but also that of the surrounding civilian community. ' The editor hopes to receive suitable submissions and will do his best to keep the JOURNAL going in this difficult period. GER

3 THE CONTINENTAL SOLDIER MOTIVATED: A MASSACHUSETTS TAILOR DUR ING AND AFTER THE REVOLUTION!

by Thomas M. Barker*

Although the va rious regions of Colonial North America differed from one another in several important ways, there has never been much doubt that the common soldier of the Revolution, no matter where he wa s enrolled, came from the broad,lower strata of society. As in contemporary European armies, it was the hoi polloi who constituted the ra nk and file and bore the brunt of battle. Social superiors, whether aristocrats, gentry, well-to-do fa rmers, or solid burghers, were seldom drafted, impressed, or artfully recruited but served - if at all­ voluntarily and as officers. Consequently, in both the Old and New Worlds, there is relatively little testimony concerning the military experiences of simple folk. The situation is notably better, however, when the eighteenth-century "grunt" happened to hail from parts where a premium was put on literacy, but, even when such information can be found, it tends to be rudimentary in perception and conceptualization, however welcome and useful to the scholar.2 This lack of documentation is a pity, for one of the enduring tasks of American his­ toriography has been to understand why the rebels were able to defeat their better financed and prepared British adversaries, the professionally competent German hirelings, and the other auxiliaries who altogether greatly outnumbered and outgunned them. Certainly, French assistance and European drillmasters were crucial; but was there not, perchance, something special about the patriot forces' morale? Were there not bonds of some kind that enable them to hold steady under frightful conditions? Fortunately, students of the period have lately been directing increased attention to the inner workings of the militia and the Continental line regi­ ments that it spawned .1 Because the witnesses from the past are not as numerous or as articulate as one would like them to be, it might be possible for scholars to exploit the current, widespread public enthusiasm for family history, at least to the extent that forebears were participants in America's wars. In this kind of microcosmic effort, reconstituting the life of "everyman" from terse official data and d ra wi'ng upon collective family memory- "legend" in common parlance - are perforce the prime methodological tools. In a few instances, at any rate,use can also be made of surviving physical evidence in the form of heirlooms or even of old houses and farms. A final, rather obvious technique is to infer facts from what is otherwise well-established about the times and places in question. Anybody, rega rdless of descent, who sets out to probe his own ancestry, benefits from a special, uncommonly strong variety of motivation. Two other conditions apply to persons of Yankee origin. One - surely an advantage enjoyed not only by genealogical enthusiasts of a particular ethnic stripe but by all researchers of New England history- relates to documenta ry sources which are both more accessible geographically and less likely to have been affected by historical calamities. The region's settlement history is relatively pacific, and materials ha ve survived Ia rgely intact. The other plus is a vestigial,fa mily a ware ness of the ea rly Yankee frame of mind, an outlook reflecting the Old Testamentarian, Church-centered, possibly even theocratic social milieu of Colonial times. Of course, Yankee families have no monopoly on communal memory: it is the form that is peculiar. In all events, the story of Private Samuel Barker (1761-1831), an impecunious apprentice in his youth and a comfortably situated paradigm of Congregational piety in old age, may serve as an example of these circumstances. Among forty odd, mainly unrelated Barker patrilines dating from the initial English settle­ ment of the Atlantic seaboard is one which derives from a certain James (d. 1678), a Puritan tailor born in a now inextant hamlet in Low Suffolk. Led by a well-known Massachusetts

•nwmas M. BarkPr is a profpssor of history at thP StatP Univnsity of NPw York at Albany.

4 .. MASSACHUSETTS TAI LOR 5

pioneer, the Reverend Ezekiel Rogers, and in the company of nineteen other fa milies, James, his wife, son, and brother landed in Salem in December of 1638. Come spring and joined by forty others, the pilgrim band trekked some 25 miles northward and founded the village of Rowley in the heart of Essex County. By his death James had achieved the status of a solid yeoman and respected community elder. However, records of the prolific quickly ramifying fa mily - sept is a better term - imply a narrowing of chances for further social mobility, especially when one takes into account the finite character of local agrarian resources.4 The bare bones impression of the genealogical chart is not deceptive. Rowley's early socioeconomic history has recently been the object of detailed investigation, and there can be little doubt that, by 1730 at the latest, the town offered only limited opportunity to grown sons and grandsons, particularly younger issue.s Moreover, the Barkers' straitened circumstances are directly documentable. In 1764, upon the death of James Barker II (b. 1686), a fa rmer who had to supplement his meager income from agriculture by making shoes, the family holdings consisted of no more than half a house on the village green and ten scattered acres of land, the total va lue of which was estimated to be a mere I 104/6/0.6 James ll's son, James Ill (1712- 1802), also a cordwainer, had to cede a (lesser) portion of the tiny estate to a younger brother,7 and so there was precious little basis for the maintenance of his own son, Jedediah (b. 1735), fa ther of Samuel, his two elder brothers and two sisters. Seeking his livelihood as a fa rmer (probably on leased land), Jedediah moved ten miles northwest to Bradford . There his luck ran out, for he drowned in the Merrimack River ( 1766). His eldest son, John ( 1758-1828), could hope at least to get by as the principal heir of his sturdy . grandfather, but the prospects for the two younger sons, James (1759/60-1842) and Samuel, were bleak indeed . Shortly before the stirring events of spring 1775 Samuel was apprenticed as a tailor to a revolutionary activist, William Rogers (c. 1730- 1 786) in Newburyport, eight miles to the north of Rowley at the mouth of the Merrimack.B Of John little can be adduced . Apart from a possible several days' service as a Minuteman, he apparently sat out the Revolution.9 It is fair to surmise that James Il l did wish to keep one grandson at home, logically the one destined to inherit most of the property, for help with the chores. The tacit consent of local worthies was probably also a factor, fo r it was they who decided which young militia me� should be encouraged, were patriotic fe rvor insufficient per se, to volunteer for full-time duty in companies destined to form pa rt of state or Continental line regiments in accordance with the quotas established by the authorities in Boston. Behind such communal psychological pressure, one should recall straightaway, was the lure of local and state bounties, constantly increased to counter the effect of wartimeinflation, and, remotely at any rate, the threat of legal compulsion, of being drafted. Massachusetts's endeavors to raise supplementary fo rces mainly by pecuniary means may have altered the basic meaning of the word "levy"10- the ambiguity is even greater in French­ but it would be a gross error to classify the new recruits as mere mercenaries. James Ill's younger grandsons, James and Samuel, belonged, almost certainly, to the category of soldier who was a more or less willing, ideologically motivated participant in the struggle to win sovereignty. Their longer-than-average service records (to judge by comparative frequency of mention in Massachusetts archival records), along with the pronounced sense of pride that has fi ltered down to the author(Samuel's great-great-great grandson), suggest that their decision to fo llow the colors was influenced by more than the prospect of gain, however strong the monetary lure may have been.11 They were, it appears, genuinely convinced that the loss of personal freedom resulting from membership in a disciplined, regular military contingent, physical deprivation, and threats to life and limb associated with disease and combat, were in the interests of a just cause. Of course this explanation cannot suffice by itself. Contemporary circumstances in Essex County, the oversettled northeastern corner of Massachusetts, also need to be considered. Although the horde of raw-but determined and well-led - citizen-soldiers round about him 6 INDIANA MILITARY HISTORY JOURNAL

ultimately forced Gen. William Howe to withdraw by sea from his Boston redoubt and while most of New England remained inviolate fo r the rest of the wa r, the Revolution continued to mean hard times. The British naval blockade, if not totally effective, was a major economic affliction. Farmers could feed themselves, but trade declined . Employment opportunities were severely restricted. Few could earn their keep in shipping unless they engaged in privateering, the solution for at least some of coastal Essex County's deprived population. Hence, the pay­ ment of bounties must have been a weighty consideration in the minds of the two younger Barker brothers. Samuel, for his part, was a mere apprentice. Even if there had bee� enough well-heeled civilian clients or public funds for purchasing uniforms, he could not have worked on his own. He was still a juvenile, while his sa rtorial master, Rogers, had set the proper patriotic example by being deeply involved in the fray from the very beginning.'2 Samuel's material concerns and his status of social subordination combined to determine the course of his life. Nonetheless, in the Essex setting the gap between those with a modicum ofwe alth and powe r and propertyless men should not be exaggerated. The county knew nothing of a European seignorial order or the agra rian dependency found in certain othe r regions of North America. Nor was the Church the preserve of haughty prelates, kinsmen of co-ruling nobility. Although Massachusetts's village bourgeoisie may have held a lien on the front pews, parishioners were more closely linked both in everyday life and in an ideological sense than in many other places. With perhaps one divine for every 450 persons, practically everyone was regularly hamngued from the pulpit concerning the iniquities of George Ill and his minions. It may be questioned whether fa rmers' sons, albeit their literacy rate well exceeded that of European peasants' off­ spring,1J understood all the intellectual subtleties of the then modish theology of virtue­ assuming of course that most ministers, the "black regiment," were themselves well-enough trained to grasp them.14 Yet it is probable that the message of righteousness somehow got through to most people. There cannot have been an excess of Tories in James's and Samuel's neck of the woods or even in the whole of Massachusetts, generally rega rded as having been the most politically indoctrinated of all the colonies.ts Rowley, in any case, was demonstrably a hotbed of rebellion in whlch efforts were made to match words with deeds. The town's committees of public safety managed to recruit and fund an avemge of fifty men during each year of the Revolution.16 It was only natural that James, two yea rs older, should have served longer than Samuel, who was only fourteen at the war's outset. In 1818 James swore under oath before a federal judge that he had put in a grand total of thirty-three months. The bulk of this time was spent in the later Continentalized, state regiment of the Newburyport colonel, James Wigglesworth (from June of 1776 to January of 1777), in the contingent of Col. Josiah Whitney as part of Gen. John Stark's New Hampshire militia brigade ( 1777), and, finally, in the ninth Massachusetts line of Col. James Wesson (J11ne of 1778 to May of 1779). '7 The elder brother specified in his deposi­ tion that he "was in the Memorable Battle of Bennington" (16 August 1777). He mentioned nothing about 1776, but he was certainly a participant, directly or indirectly, in the actions around or on Lake Champlain. This seems evident from the movements of Wigglesworth's unit, partly composed of men with a seafaring background .IB James apparently just missed out on the Battle of Monmouth (28 June 1778), in which Wesson and his troops were heavily engaged , and then he experienced the dold rums of the army's long encampment in northwestern New Jersey and the Hudson Highlands.19 Although he was but sixteen at the start of hostilities, it is possible, in view of the full thirty-three months of service and date of his discharge, that he was also with the militia at Boston. This is all the more likely because Samuel stated later in life that he himself had followed Rogers there (whether as an underage warrior or as his master's erra nd-runner is unclear. )20 The conclusion that both Barkers were Minutemen is perhaps substantiated by the militarydo ssier not only of MASSACHUSETTS TAILOR 7

Captain Rogers - appointed Wigglesworth's major the next year- but also of Samuel Car, Rogers's lieutenant in 1777 and both James's and Samuel's captain in Wesson's regiment from mid-1778 to March of 1780 .21 The fact that James and Samuel preferred to he commanded by officers from their home district- a phenomenon well-known to Revolutionary historians­ makes it clear that social dependency was not menial but rooted in respect and trust, as with the warbands of Germanic antiquity. Rogers, for that matter, was anything but a financially secure patrician and presumably could not let his tailoring business go completely to seed. Elected initially by his neighbors and not commissioned by an agency representing a dominant social stratum, he was a pa rt-time, non-professional officer. He left home intermittently throughout the war with state regiments or lesser militia bodies in order to reinforce the Continentals or to assume defensive responsibilities in secondary theaters of operation. It was thus that Samuel, now seventeen, served his first hitch as a genuine, albeit auxiliary, soldier. Worried throughout 1778 by the possibility of a British assault upon the coast of Rhode Island from New York City, the Massachusetts government did what it could to strengthen the local irregulars. Among the units it managed to dispatch was a company from Newbury led by Rogers and including his apprentice. In addition to his wages for a month and a half tour of duty, Samuel probably also collected a !14 premium from the selectmen. lt should be stressed that the town was authorized to recoup the expense of the bounty of hire from the local taxpayers, who were classified according to the amount of their property (polls and estates). The system was fairly effective be­ cause, if a recruit could not be produced , it was still necessary to pay the special levy plus a sur­ charge or penalty.zz To be sure, the militia, which theoretically included all able-bodied males, functioned not only as a home guard but also furnished replacements to the Continental army, which had sprung from its loins in mid-1775. During 1779 the General Court strove desperately to fulfill Massachusetts's quota, emitting a flood of addresses, appeals, and resolutions. Its tactic was to emphasize financial benefits rather than legal coercion. On May I, in order to persuade I ,500 men to sign up for the duration of the war, it offered a $100 bounty to supplement the $200 promised by the Congress. Anqther $200 would fall due after a six-month interlude with the regulars. ZJ Samuel, who became 18 two weeks later, may have been tempted, yet was put off by the inordinate length of the service obligation. However, on June 9, in response to a new, Congressional call for 2,000 troops, Boston proposed, by draft, lot, or voluntaryen listment, a nine-month term calculated from the moment of arrival at the place of muster. This time the additional bounty was to consist of a hundred acres of land, perhaps deemed to be more enticing than inflated cash and certainly easier for the state, which then encompassed the territory of Maine, to provide.24 At this point, none of the poor Rowley farmer's grandsons was under arms, James having been honorably discharged on March 12.2s In all likelihood, to the mind of a partriotically disposed family, it was now all the more appropriate for Samuel to do his bit. His master, Rogers, could hardly have thought otherwise. Whatever the combination and interaction of suasion and incentives, Samuel was enlisted by the Essex County muster master, John Cushing, at Newbury on August 12 "agreeable to the resolve of June 9." Measuring 5'9" and fair-skinned, he marched off under the supervision of Lieut. John Storey to join Ca ptain Carr at West Point.26 Despite the impression created among the American public by Revolutionary War buffs, it would be an exaggeration to say that the everyday recruit who wended his way to the Highlands was donning his country's uniform. Ever since the horrors of the season at Valley Forge one of George Washington's and Baron von Steuben's chief preoccupations had been to clothe the army suitably. The men not only had to survive the rigors of an inland, northern winter but also needed to take pride in their appearance, snappy attire being essential to the cultivation of esprit de corps. Thus the arrival of Samuel Barker in camp was a bit out of the ordinary: as a "larned" tailor he could hardly have been more welcome. This circumstance and its highly probable, if 8 INDIANA MILITARY HISTORY JOURNAL

not 100 percent verifiable, consequences were to imbue the new enlistee with the conviction of unique achievement and to form the basis of efforts later in life to insure that posterity would not forget him. It was on New Year's day of 1778 that Washington ordered his colonels to give a return of tailors belonging to their regiments and to instruct such craftsmen to begin producing standard ized dress for the troops as soon as cloth and other requisites were available. Three weeks later he directed that the soldier-a rtisans receive extra pay "when working at their trade." He cautioned, however, that it would be a mistake to let them wander too far.27 Surely, the general misery of life at Valley Forge had enhanced the general's awareness of the private wa rrior's proclivity to desert. Although the material situation improved a bit and the army be­ came a more cohesive institution over the next two years, conditions in the winter quarters of 1779-1780 - the encampment between Morristown and West Point - were probably even worse than they had been outside Philadelphia. Apart from the wage bonus (which he is likely to have known about before enlisting) Samuel was blessed by being detailed for work which guaranteed that the blood would circulate in his fingers. Yet the greatest stroke of luck came when the pater patriae picked Samuel over others to be his personal tailor. The thrifty New Englander punctilliously recorded in his account book: "To making one wescoat for G. Washington .. . . Of 3/0" (three shillings).28 In old age he also related "with great pride" to all who would hearken that he had "had the honor of mending clothes for General Washington."29 The account book, which Samuel apparently began in 1776 after being apprenticed to Rogers and which he demonstrably kept up to his death, exists today, unfortunately, only in mutilated form.J0 No less happily, a small bolt of khaki-colored, homespun cloth, by implication a frag­ ment of that used for the commander-in-chiefs vestments, has vanished, although a newspaper photograph of it remains. On the other hand Samuel's tailor's shears- two riveted, fourteen­ inch blades weighing with the handles three and a half pounds- have survived. Inherited along with the tattered account book by the author, they have been donated to the National Museum of History and Technology (Smithsonian). It seems evident that before he died either Samuel or his kin took care to preserve all three items. They were placed in a small, wooden chest and stored in the attic of his Bethel home, to be recovered by his descendants in 1880 when a new roof was installed.J ' Professor Robert Middlekauf has argued persuasively that the trials which the Continentals underwent during the savage winter of 1779-80 fortified the soldiers' sense of peculiar identity and of unique patriotic accomplishment. They became more nationalistic than the militiamen, themselves true believers at least in New England. For those regulars who had stood up, literally, to enemy fire the awareness of special bonds - blood brothership, one might say­ was even more pronounced: "lch hatte einen Kameraden, einen Bess'ren findst Du nit." That was why they (and militia units that were composed of neighbors and friends) were more trust­ worthy in combat.32 Samuel, it appears, was not literally battle-tested and did not belong to the inner circle of the virtuous. This may have been a factor in his decision not to reenlist at the expiration of his term (April 20, 1780) although his superiors surely would have been pleased to retain the specially skilled, demonstrably conscientious and disciplined Massachusetts volunteer.n The army's mood was particularly sour that spring. Samuel is likely to have thought that he and James had endured enough already. In contrast to the hordes of shirkers and in the face of wide-spread profiteering and scorn for the military, they had contributed their honest moiety. Yet the two brothers had been stamped indelibly by their experiences in Wesson's regiment. The later course of their lives is sufficient proof that they entertained affec­ tive ties to fellow veterans. Samuel's activities for the next twenty-three years are discernible at least in outline. It is safe to assume that he used at least a portion of his bounties, bonuses, and pay for a savings kitty, however small. His Calvinist piety and sense of economy doubtlessly had prevented him from indulging in strong drink or games of chance. Like soldiers of similar character in World War MASSACHUSETIS TAILOR 9

Two, he entered service almost penniless, but he departed with the wherewithal for starting an independent existence. War can mean upward social mobility for the buck private. (How his claim for a hundred acres of land was settled must be left an open question.) Some three years after his discharge - with the Revolution triumphant- Samuel married Betsey (Elizabeth) Rogers ( 1765-1 812), daughter of the patriotic master tailor. The first child , named after her mother, was born in Rowley on February 26, 1784. The first son, William (d. 1839), never saw his maternal grandfather who passed away in 1786 three years before his birth. There would be a total of fifteen siblings, the last two borne by Samuel's second wife, Abigail Blanchard (d. . 1844).34 During the period in question- having moved to Amesbury two miles up the Merrimack from Newburyport- Samuel supported his brood by tailoring. He was prosperous enough, in the booming nineties, to take on an apprentice of his own as may be gathered from a document that survived into the twentieth century (and is an interesting footnote per se to American social history):

This indenture witnefseth that Stephen Bayley Son of Enoch Bayley of Newbury in the County of Efsex and Commonwealth of Mafschufetts Cooper Doth of his own free will and accord put and Bind him Self an apprentice with the Consent of his father to Samuel Barker of Amesbury in the County and Commonwealth abovesaid Taylor to larn his trade art or mistrey of a Taylor and with the Said Samuel to Serv from the date of these presents for and dureing the term of two years Eight months Eleven days to be compleat and Ended during which terme the Said apprentice his Said mafter well & faithfully Shall Serve as a good apprentice ought to do dureing all the time or term aforesaid And the Said Samuel for him Self doth hereby Covenant and promise to teach and inftruct the Said apprentice in the art trade or Calling of a taylor by the best way or Means he may or can and to finde and provide unto Said apprentice good and Sufficient meat & drink washing and Lodging in Sicknefs and in health and to make up his Cloathingafter the Cloath is provided for him and to give Said apprentice one months Schooling dureing said term and at the Expiration thereof Shall give unto Said apprentice one decent Sute of apparil fit for Lords days: In teftimoney whereof the Said parties to these indentures interchangeably Set their hands and Seals the fifteenthday of Novr. one thoufand Seven hundred ninety and two and in the Seventeeth year of the independence of America.

Samuel Barker

Signed Sealed & Delivered in prefence of (seal) Mofes Bayley Enoch Bayley Jur.H

Notwithstanding (or perhaps because of) his fecundity, Samuel was clearly a competent money manager. His savings, together - it appears - with his lesser share of his late grand­ father's picayune estate, sufficed to enable him to quit the ancestral sod of Essex County with its heavy population density and higher land prices. Sometime in 1803 he and his family migrated northward into a freshly opened region that would later (1820) form part of the twenty-third state of the Union. A farm was purchased on the south bank and on four islands of the Androscoggin River just outside the village of Bethel, the homestead lying in what must be one of the most idyllic valley and mountain locations in the eastern United States. To judge by its early Federal style, the spacious, still extant Barker house was erected shortly thereafter although some structural elements may be the work of Samuel's immediate predecessor. Bethel, at that time twenty-nine years old, was very much a settlement of veterans. Many of them were beginning a new life with only the slimmest of grubstakes, having come to what was then called "the eastward" because real estate was so cheap, and/ or they themselves had land claims upon Massachusetts. 36 10 INDIANA MILITARY HISTO RY JOURNAL

Analysis of a petition submitted to the General Court in 1787 shows that many of Bethel's pioneers were not only ex-soldiers but sons of Essex County as well. A number of them likewise bore the family name Barker although they were not directly related to the Rowley line. That Samuel enjoyed the favor of these local founding fathers - profiting to a degree from the special emotional bonds derived from the common experience of war- may be inferred from the fact that the municipal council promptly granted him control over the river crossing.J7 Henceforward, the site was known as "Barker's Ferry," and Samuel, who served in 1806 as one of the local militia ca ptains, was assured of a regular, supplementary source of income. Indeed, it is probable that military-fraternal links influenced his decision to leave Amesbury and to diversify his vocational activities. (Samuel continued to make clothes in his new home.) Brother John, who like other early denizens of Bethel had first tried his luck in adjacent New Hampshire, also struck roots in the village in 1804, establishing a line that was prominent in community affairs throughout the nineteenth century.JH James, who knew only hard times, was given shelter by the clan in 1826.39

Was Samuel's good fortune likewise connected to his reputation as a devout Congregationalist and exempla r for wayward brethren, the community having had its fair share of sots prior to the days of the doughty temperance advocate, Mrs. Moses Mason ( 1792- 1869)? It is impossible to say for sure, but the"Deacon," as he came to be called, was clearly one of the guiding lights of the West Parish. Other evidence of his fervor for the Gospel are the facts that the family sent son Nathaniel ( 1796-1888) to Da rtmouth in order to become a preacher and that among the few books mentioned in his will are devotional works. If it is fair to say that the scion mirrored the perceived traits of his father, then the words uttered by the pastor's own eulogist also characterize Samuel: "clearness of thought, lofty aspirations ..., vigorous, stern, unyielding to the storms of nature or of human experience." One may question the funeral orator's hyperbolic contention that the pure air breathed in the vale of the Androscoggin had much to do with the purported "healthful moral state" of its inhabitants, but, piainly, Samuel and his progeny were a breed apart. Their portraits take their due place in the wide ga llery of inimitable American originals.4o

Rectitude is, unquestionably, a highly subjective phenomenon and a word that nowadays generally connotes disapproval. While it might be gratifying to conclude that one's ancestors­ incuclated from infancy with exalted ethical standards that reflected a simpler, agrarian order of economic and social relationships - might serve to inspire a jaded present, in Samuel's time, too, the line between right and wrong must frequently have been tenuous. Such at any rate is the conclusion to be drawn from the details and the outcome of his Revolutionary War pension claim. The first federal law relating to the subject, enacted on 18 March 1818, was coldly logical. It made provision only for those who stood in genuine need of assistance from their country. Samuel, who scarcely fell into the category of the indigent, hastened to apply, alleging already on April 23 "reduced circumstances in Life." His petition, backed by affidavits of his participation in the struggle for independence, was admitted, and he was allowed $8 per month.41

However, two years later, in the face of rising costs and growing suspicions, the Washington bureaucrats, prodded by a nigga rd ly Congress, began to insist upon written confirmation of the individual veteran's poverty. Samuel did the best he could to depict his personal status as wretched . He swore before the Oxford County Court of Common Pleas that he could not pursue his occupation of farmer "by reason of age, want of sight sufficient to perform the duties ..., a breach and other infirmities." The forty-nine year old Abigail, mother of his two youngest daughters (5 and 3), was described as "sick and unable to do any labour for five years past & under the care of Physician." (She outlived her husband by thirteen years!) The schedule of property, its value set at the bargain basement figure of $699.90, reads: MASSACHUSETIS TAILOR 11

Real estate, forty acres of land on which is an old home, & old barn, four islands ... containing thirty acres of land improved and unimproved - fifty acres of wildland timber killed by fire, soil poor- 2 cows, I three year old, I two year old, I bull two years old- 2 yearlings, two calves, 2 swine, I 0 sheep, one old horse and waggon- one desk, 12 old chairs, 13 old tables, taylor's goose and shears, farming utensils, crockery, iron & glafs wares - Samuel Barker.42

No mention was made of the ferry monopoly, while the appreciable income from tailoring was left to infe rence, evidently because the law required only the listing of real and personal objects and not of supplementary sources of livelihood.43 Among the latter, it is worth relating, was the $27 annual "intrest" (sic)- due for 1816 at least- on letting his more prestigious "Corner Pew" to his sartorial client, Mr. Nathania I Holt. This and another pew were also listed as items of value in his testament.44 The declaration, with its fa int scent of collusion, did not wash. (That of James, who was virtually destitute, did).4S Apart from the fact that the patrimony was hardly mean for the day and age, the capital city authorities may well have wondered how in a relatively young locality almost everything could be so old. In a letter dated 19 October 1820 Samuel was notified that on account of his property the Secretary of War did not consider him entitled to a pension and therefore had directed his name to be stricken from the list.46 One can only postulate the old man's reaction upon receiving this news, but, bearing in mind the sentiments of ex-soldiers in the twentieth century, to suppose that he felt indignant is not far-fetched. He belonged, he would have told himself, to that tiny minority of stalwarts who had truly suffered for liberty, and he was being denied his due. Almost certainly he would not have conceded that there had been anything improper about his behavior in the matter. Moreover, by this time the Revolution was beginning to be mythologized. The broad, collective approbation missing in 1779-1 780 was finally at hand. To have his pension taken away probably seemed to Samuel to detract from the public esteem in which a gray-haired champion of the young American nation might now bask. Whatever his disappointment and injured pride, the "Deacon" continued to play his role as chief elder of the West Parish. In 1821 he was instrumental in the selection of a new minister. It was a fe licitous choice. In succeeding years the Rev. Charles Frost drew a large attendance including both the oldest settlers and many young persons, a congregation portrayed as having been "an audience of more than ordinary intellectual character."47 Presumably Frost was also the dominie who shortly after the venerable tailor-farmer's death on· March 25, 1831, accompanied the funeral cortege up to Grover Hill Cemetery- an exquisite spot overlooking the mountain-girded basin of the Androscoggin. The grave, dug into frozen or only half-thawed ground at the then substantial cost of $2.50, lay ready. The final accent was one of virtue attained . Samuel's tombstone, between the steles of the two wives who successively bore him 15 children and close to the slabs marking the ashes and dust of John and James, reads: "Them also which sleep in Jesus shall God bring unto him" I Thess. 4:14.48 Surely, Samuel's mundane recompense must also be considered to have been respectable fo r the time, the place, and his station in life: the principal heirs, two sons remaining at Barker's Ferry, were able to lay their hands on some $400 in cash.49 For the historian, his colleagues in the behavioral sciences, and other scholars the ultimate riddle is how emotion, reasoned thought, self-interest, and group pressure combine to make human beings do the things they do. Posed in the context of the American Revolution, the question is even harder to answer due to the relative paucity of the evidence. While some diaries and correspondence have in fact survived, there are no service files, much less records of psychological tests or systematic samplings of public opinion. Consequently, any conclusion must be somewhat tentative. However, it may be that a prosopographic approach embracing other New England soldiers like Samuel Barker could help to corroborate the rough hypothesis that has been presented here, namely, that the common Revolutionary War soldier was influenced by a melange of motives reflecting material need, social attitudes, and ideological indoctrination reinforced by life in the Continental army.so 12 INDIANA MILITARY HISTORY JOURNAL

NOTES

1 I wish to thank my SUNY Albany colleagues, Sung Bok Kim and John Monfasani, as well as Philip Lundebergof the National Museum of American History, Louis L. Tucker of the Massachusetls Historical Society, Edward W. Hanson of the New England Historic Genealogical Society, Stanley R. Howe and Randall Benneu of the Bethel (Maine) Historical Society for help in preparing this article. 2 See, for example, Rebecca D. Symes, A Citizen Soldier in till' Amnican Rl'volution: Thl' Diary of Benjamin Gilbnt in Man·achusl'tts and Nl'w York (Cooperstown: New York State Historical Association, 1980) and Rufus Wheeler, "Journal of Lieut. Rufus Wheeler of Rowley," Thl' Essl'xlnstilllll' Historical Colll'ctions, 68( 1932), 37 1-77. l Cf. Lawrence Delbert Cress, Citizl'ns in Arms: Thl'Army and Militia in Amnican Socil'ty to thl' War of 1812 (Chapel Hill: University of North Ca rolina Press, 1982). • Eli7abeth Frye Barker, &1rkn Gml'alol{l' (New York: Frye Publishing Co., 1927), 389 ff.;Georg e Blodgetle and Amos E. Jewell, Etu�v Sl'ltlns of Rowll'y, Ma.u. (Rowley: A.E. Jewell, 1933), 14-15. Barker's study, although not without errors, contains useful oddments of information apparently based upon personal interviews and family recollections. s Patricia Tra inor O'Malley, "Rowley, Massachuseus, 1639- 1 730: Dissent, Division and Delimitation in a Colonial Town," Ph.D. dissertation, Boston College, 1975 (University Microfilms). • "An Inventory of the Estate of James Barker late of Rowley Deccas'd Taken the Tenth Day of April A.D. 1764," Essex County Probate Docket No. 1671. 7 Last will and testament of James Barker, 10 December 1763, ibid. • l.llodgetle and Jewell, 18; Barker, 415; D.A.R. Linl'agl' Book, vol. 63 (Washington, D.C.: Daughters of the American Revolution, 1923), 106; ibid., vol. 120 (1931), 115. • There is no record of a federal pension claim by a John Ba rker who can be identified with him. It is also hard to pinpoint him among a number of Essex County John Barkers who served with the militia in 1755. Cf. Massachu.1·etts Soldil'rs and Sailors of thl' Rl'vollllionary War, vol. I (Boston: Wright and Potier, 1896), 612-14. (Hereafter cited as MSSR.) 1o John Shy, "American Society and Its War for Independence" in Don Higginbotham, Rl'considnatiom· on thl' Rl'volwionary War (Westport, Conn.: The Greenwood Press, 1978), 79. II What an "average" length service record - understood as comprising both active militia and regular duty­ amounted to is surely open to dispute, and the question could be definitively resolved only by a major statistical analysis. However, even a cursory perusal of Massachuseus records provides sufficient grounds for concluding that the great majority of men spent no more than a few days, weeks, or at best several months under arms. 2 1 Barker, Gmeplogy, 415; MSSR, 13(1905), 526. IJ Studying the payrolls preserved in the Boston State House one is struck by the fact that every Minuteman (apparently) could sign his name. What would the ratio have been in a British or German company? 1 4 Although a reader cannot help but Jearn from Charles Royster's brilliant work, A Rl'volutionary People at War: 7hl' Continl'ntalArmy and thl'American Character(New York: W. W. Norton, 1979), it may be questioned whether the average line soldier was as pensive and intellectually sophisticated as the betler educated, colonial contemporaries whom Royster cites in support of his theses. 1 1 Cf. John Shy, A Pl'opleNuml'row· and Arml'd:Rej11'ctiom on thl' Military Struggll' for Aml'ricanlndl'pl'tldencP (New York: Oxford University Press, 1976), 222-24. 1• Thomas Gage, Thl' History of Rowll'y (Boston: Fe rdinand Andrews, 1840), 250-93. 17 Affidavit of Ja mes Barker, dated Dorchester, New Ha mpshire, 30 April l8 18. National Archives, Military Service Records, Revolutionary War file no. S-3448. (Hereafter cited as NA MSR RW). 1• Christopher Ward, 7711' Warof thl' Rl'volution (New York: MacMillan, 1952), 384-92. 19 William S. Stryker, Thl' &ttll' of Monmouth (Princeton University Press, 1927), 148-49. 2o Barker, Genl'alogy, 415. 21 MSSR, 3( 1897), 135-36; Ja mes Barker, affidavit; affidavit of Samuel Barker, dated Paris, District of Maine, 23 April 1818, NA MSR RW S- 10, 429. 22 MSSR, I( 1896), 620; ibid., xxx, xxxvi. lJ /hid., xxxii. 2 4 Acts and Rl'mlvl's of tlrl' Provine/' of Massachll.\"1'1/s &y, vol. 21 (Boston: Wright and Potier, 1922), 38-43. See also Cress, 59-60. zs James Barker, affidavit. 2 • Re volutionary Rolls, vol. 53, 282, Archives of the Commonwealth, Boston, Mass. 21 George Washington, Writings ofGI'orgl' Washington, ed. by John C. Fitzpatrick, vol. 10 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office), 252, 33 1. z• As related to the author by his grandparents, Bertram M. (1872-1946) and Neuie Fuller Barker (1873- 1965) of Monticello, Minnesota, and his great-aunt, Mae Barker Boraas ( 1878- 1 976) of Ada, Minnesota, who viewed the passage in the original. cr. note 29. MASSACHUSETTS TAILOR 13

29 William B. La pham, History of lkthE'I, Formn�v Sudbury, Canada (Augusta: Maine Fa rmer, 189 1), 85. The chief source for the book was the research of Dr. Nathaniel Tuckerman True ( 1812-1884), principal of the Bethel Academy ( 1848- 1861) who conducted extensive interviews among the inhabitants of the town and may be considered to have been a reliable professional historian. Randall H. Bennett, "Dr. True as Historian," TirE' lkthE'I Courier, Bethel Historical Society, I (June, 1977), n.p. Lapham, an M.D. and a former student of True, was a competent scholar in his own right. Uennett. review of the reissued History of /kthrl (Somersworth, N.H.: New England History Press and Bethel llistorical Society, 1981) in ibid., 5 (December. 1981). 5. 30 The earliest surviving notation dates from 1785. The author was told in the 1930s by his grandparents (note 28) that a "cousin" from a Maine branch of the fa mily (now apparently extinct) had "borrowed" the account book decades before and had returned it minus the initial, most historically interesting part. The vestige nevertheless contains valuable information, namely. prices for clothing - including military garb - and agricultural products up to 1841. (Samuel's fifth son and farmstead heir, Francis [ 1799- 1883], made a fe w entries as well). One als�ainsa go� impres­ sion of rural economic re lationships in the late eighteenthand early nineteenthcentu ries when itllagers pr9vided one another with goods and services, keeping book mutually and balancing or settling accounts in cash after a period as long as ten years or more. See also note 37. 31 According to another of the author's great-a unts, Nellie Ingalls Barker (186

4l cr. note 39. 46 Letter to Samuel Ba rker from the War Department Pension Office dated 19 October 1820, NA MSR RW S-10, 429. For another case of a veteran being deprived of his federal pension, see Robert C. Bray and Pa ul E. Bushnell, Diary of a Common So/diu in thl' Rt>vollllion: An Annotatt>d &lit ion of thl' Military Journal of Jt> rt>miah Grt>l'fltnafl (De Kalb, Illinois: Northern Illinois University Press, 1978), xxix-xxxiii. Greenman also suffered the rigors of the 1779- 1780 winter encampment but, in contrast to Samuel, served for the whole war and clearly was more committed to the patriot cause. Unquestionably impoverished, he challenged the bureaucrats - again unlike Samuel - and succeeded in getting his name put back on the roster of payees. 47 Lapham, 235. 41 Account book unpaginated; as recorded and photographed by the author. 49 From the account book. lO Admittedly, this scheme does not take into account subjective factors - mostly imperceptible to posterity - such as restlessness or family strife. Nor does it encompass the roughest kind of private soldier, the recruit from the very bottom of the social order who had to serve because he was a delinquent, a complete pauper, or even legally unfree . The officer corps also presents a special set of circumstances. For a broad discussion of military motivation and unit cohesion, see Ja mes Kirby Martin, "A 'Most Undisciplined, Profligate Crew': Protest and Defiance in the Continental Ranks, 1776- 1783," in Ronald Hoffman and Peter J. Albert (eds.), A rnrJ (lfld lndt>pmdt>IICI': thl'Military Ch aractt'rof thl' Amt>rican Rt>volwio11 (Charlottesville: United States Capitol Historical Society, University Press of Virginia, 1984), 119-40, esp. 125-26. DJEBELS AND CASBAHS: THE MIDWEST IN NORTHWEST AFRICA

by Kevin B. Reid*

During World War II American troops fought and died in such diverse locales as Pacific atolls and Italian mountains, French vineyards and Burmese jungles. It is not surprising, therefore, to read of American soldiers fighting amongst the Tu nisian djebels (hills). Many of the soldiers fighting amongst these djebels, in fact, came from the Midwest. Included among the four U.S. divisions which were engaged in Tunisia was the 34th National Guard division, which originally drew its troops from the Dakotas, Iowa, and Minnesota.! The division's travails during training, its demoralizing baptism of fire at Algiers, and its blooding in the actions around Kasserine and Fondouk - all indicated to commanders and allies alike that the men of the 34th did not have the mettle to defeat the Germans. Yet, the division's ultimate success against the Germans on Hill 609 proved that it could vanquish the enemy even when he was securely positioned in fortifications of great strength. To a large degree these experiences have much more relevance than mere tactical or regional interest, for the sequence of these actions serves as a microcosm which reflects and highlights the evolution of professionalism and competence within the rapidly raised American Army. Like many other National Guard divisions raised during World War II, the 34th had been activated some twenty years before when the original call had mobilized guardsmen from Minnesota, Iowa, Nebraska, and the two Dakotas. The call came as part of President Wilson's response to the border incidents around the Rio Grande which culminated in Pershing's famous Punitive Expedition.2 On August 25, 1917, the guardsmen from the five states were shipped to Camp Cody in New Mexico where they officially became the 34th (National Guard) division.J While in New Mexico, the new division adopted as its divisional insignia the white skull of a longhornbu ll superimposed over the silhouette of a Mexican water bottle which was known in the area as an o/la.4 Within a fe w years this emblem would generate the divisional nickname "the Red Bull Division," but in its earliest days the division called itself the "Sandstorm Division" after its posting in the arid Southwest.5 In spite of its early call-up and lengthy training, however, the Sandstorm division was not destined to see combat during the Great War. The 34th was not shipped overseas until October, 1918, and once ashore in France, the division's troops were parcelled out as replacements to other divisions which had already suffe red heavy losses in battle.6 Following the Armistice, the Sandstorm division was shipped home and demobilized. Within two decades war was once again to break out in Europe. As the war escalated during 1940 and 1941, the guardsmen of the 34th received several alerts concerning an impending federal call up. There were nine such alerts before February, 1941, when the actual orders for induction into national service were issued . The division, however, no longer drew troops from Nebraska, so as it assembled at Camp Clairborne in Louisiana for training, its personnel were drawn almost exclusively from the midwestern states of North and South Dakota, Iowa, and Minnesota.7 Between March and September the division underwent intense training which produced a division that appeared, on the surface at least, to be highly professional and skilled. During the Louisiana maneuvers in September, 1941, the division's performance was skillful enough to merit the division's shipment to Ireland as the first American division to be sent to Eu rope.s The 34th was posted in Ireland with the 1st Armored division which was to follow in a short time. Together they were to comprise the V Corps, which was to be under the command of the 34th's commanding general, Maj. Gen. Russel P. Hartle.9 In addition to exhibiting allied solidarity, the Corps' task in Ireland was to train for amphibious landings. A relatively unknown officer at the time was Brig. Gen. Benjamin Caffey who was posted with the 39th

*Kevin B. Reid is a graduate student studying history at Purdue University.

15 16 INDI ANA MILITARY HISTORY JOURNAL

Infa ntry regiment of the 9th division- another unit which was then being shipped to Ireland for training. Within a few months Caffey would be transferred to the 34th as its assistant division commander. Commenting later on the training during this Irish interlude, Caffey described the 34th as, "A Nat Guard Div which had never had advanced training, and which had been used by Hartle in the UK to unload supplies and gua rd Hq. and in other duties which did not contribute to battle-worthiness."10 Another unknown officer at the time was one of Hartle's newer aides, Capt. William Darby. The tranquil atmosphere which Caffey had described had also bothered Darby, and after a short while he requested a transfer. An aggressive and energetic officer, Darby proved to be just the officer the High Command in Washington was looking for, and on June 8, 1942, he received orders to form a battalion-sized force of volunteers who would fu nction and strike like the British Commandos. By the order of Gen. George C. Marshall, these American "Commandos" would be called Rangers to remind Americans of their colorful military heritage and the exploits of Roger's Rangers. These Rangers would receive training from British officers at the commando schools in Ireland and Scotland .11 Of the twenty-six officers and four hundred and forty-seven enlisted men who were finally chosen to begin the training, fu lly sixty percent were volunteers from the 34th.12 This first ranger battalion was to evolve into the fa mous "Darby's Rangers." Although Darby's battalion was no longer part of the 34th, it would also see action in North Africa. About the same time that Darby was forming his Ranger battalion, Hartle received a promo­ tion to fu ll command of V Corps. His replacement as commanding general of the 34th was Maj. Gen. Charles W. Ryder.ll While Ryder was engrossed in the planning for his division's role in the North African landings, a number of his subord inates, including the commander of the !68th Infa ntry regiment, were relieved of command by orders from Washington.14 Their replacements did not come, for the most past, from within the division. This move reinforced a trend which had been noticeable since the training at Camp Clairborne - a trend in which increasing numbers of the division's personnel were drawn directly from the selective service and no longer originated from within the division's home states.1S These changes were to hinder the efficiency of the division once it was thrown into combat. The 34th's role in the upcoming invasion of North Africa centered around the seizure of Algiers. The !68th Infa ntry regiment was to land in conjunction with some attached commandos just west of the city on beaches which were designated Beer White and Beer Green. Once ashore, they were to drive to the outskirts of Algiers to control the heights which dominated the city. En route to these heights they were supposed to surprise and capture some French barracks and administrative positions.16 A few hours after the landings at the Beer beaches, the 3rd battalion of the I 35th Infantry regiment was to provide the manpower for operation TERMINAL, a commando-style landing to be made inside Algiers in order to seize the port facilities before the French could sabotage them.l7 The landings on the Beer beaches were unopposed, yet terribly disorganized. The distribu­ tion of landing craft had been faulty, and the landing craft pilots were inexperienced . The early landing hour of OIOO hours necessitated the use of signal lights for navigation, an operation the pilots managed poorly. At some points the beaches we re terribly congested; at others small groups of disoriented men sought to rejoin their badly scattered units. Radios on the vehicles which had been landed proved to be very fragile, and with the regiment's personnel scattered across some fifteen miles of coastline, a substantial delay of the regiment's advance was assured .l8 Lt. Col. Edward J. Doyle, the I st battalion's commanding officer, exemplifed this confusion, for he was landed five miles away from the beach on which his command was landed . Marching quickly he was able to overtake the slowly advancing elements of the I 68th, but by noon the advance had been stopped by determined French resistance in a small village just outside of Algiers. Frustrated by the delay, Doyle took some twenty soldiers in hand and infiltrated DJEBELS AND CASBAHS 17

around these French defenses in order to continue on into the city. In doing so, he left the rest of the regiment engaged in the firefight without a commander. Shortly after he reached the city, Doyle was shot and killed by a sniper.19 Eventually some of the troops decided to imitate Doyle by passing around the French defenses, but the effort was confused and uncoordinated. It was not until British troops appeared to the south of the city that the French began to surrender. Operation TERMINAL, meanwhile, had been badly compromised by the nosie of the 0100 landings on the Beer beaches, for the TERMINAL force was not scheduled to ente r the harbor until 0400. When the two British destroyers which were carrying the TERMINAL force attempted to enter the harbor, they were greeted with searchlights and gunfire from shore batteries. One destroyer was forced to withd raw. The second destroyer, the H.M.S. Broke, forced her way into the harbor and debarked the troops on the wrong quay.2o Lt. Col. Edwin Swenson, the TERMINAL force's commander, fortunately, was aboard. Troops began to scatter towards their objectives and were quickly greeted by French civilians and police seeking to surrender and warning of an impending French counterattack.21 Artillery fire from the French shore batteries had not abated and the Broke sustained several hits - one of which destroyed her radios. The Broke's captain decided to quit the harbor and signaled this intent to Swenson by siren. Most of Swenson's troops were, however, too scattered and busy to withdraw, so the destroyer's departure left them stranded .22 French ground forces - a few companies of Senegalese infantry and a few light tanks - began to mass around Swenson's force. Disconcerted by the French resistance, Swenson established a defensive perimeter. Before the French tanks arrived, Swenson's battalion kept the Senegalese at bay, but in Swenson's eyes the arrival of the tanks put the battalion in a situation in which "I knew in a few moments we should be under fire which could not be silenced, nor could we hope to hold out. Difficult as it was for me to make the decision, I ordered surrender rather than sustain addi­ tional casualties."23 This was at 1230 hours. The battalion had been ashore less than seven hours. While the TERMINAL force had failed to obtain its objective and the I 68th had been bogged down on the beaches and during the march inland, the actions of Darby's battalion had been almost letter perfect. The �anger battalion had been attached to the 1st Infantry division, which had been assigned the task of seizing Oran. The main forces of the I st were to land to the cast of Oran at the small village of Arzev. To support this landing, the Rangers were assigned the task of seizing two French shore batteries, which were sited to do a grei,ltdeal of damage to the landing forces.24 To achieve this, the battalion was divided into two detachments, each being assigned to seize one shore battery. The first force was landed on a sea wall that was treacherously sloped and covered with slime. With more than a few curses the Rangers managed to slide and crawl over the wall and to seize the Fort de Ia Pointe battery before the garrison was aware of the Rangers' presence. The second detachment was under Darby's per­ sonal command and was not spotted by the French garrison until they were cutting through the last strands of barbed wire in front of the French position. As soon as the defenders began to fire, the Rangers stormed the position and captured it before an effective defense could be or­ ganized. At the cost of four killed and eleven wounded, the Ranger battalion had captured several hundred prisoners, killed those who were determined to resist, and seized both batteries before they could be used against the landing craft.25 The training in the commando school had obviously imparted in the battalion an aggressive spirit as well as a sense of self reliance. The contrast between its performance and the actions of the TERMINAL force was marked. The dispositions for these TORCH landings provided a foretaste of a problem which was to plague the division for most of the campaign - the problem of being fragmented and forced to fight while divided. During TORCH, for example, the 168th had landed outside Algiers while the I 35th had detached one battalion for the TERMINAL operation. Many of the service troops were still in Ireland. The division was to continue to be used piecemeal. The next forma­ tion to be detached was the I 75th Field Artillery battalion. The 175th had been attached to the 18 INDIANA MILITARY HISTORY JOURNAL

!68th, but within a few days of the landing it was attached to Blade Force. Blade Force was a composite organization built mainly around elements of the British 78th division. The task of Blade Force was to drive as quickly as possible to Tu nis in the hopes of seizing it before the Germans could build up an adequate defense and use Tunis as a beachhead for rebuilding and regrouping Rommel's beleaguered Afrika Korps. The !75th was initially the only American component of Blade Force.26 On November 18, 1942, Blade Force reached the crossroads at Medjez-el-Bab, which lay some thirty miles outside of Tunis. The !75th was among the first units to reach Medjez-ei-Bab and was immediately assigned to reinforce the French units which were holding this vital cross­ roads.27 A prompt German counterattack the next day drove the defenders away from Medjez­ el-Bab, but within five days the Allies resumed the attack. By this time Blade Force had been augmented by the 1st battalion, I st regiment of the 1st Armored Division.2s The renewed attack towards Tunis began on November 25, and both American units in 131ade Force were used. The armored battalion constituted the striking force for the northern arm of a pincer aimed at encircling the Germans around Medjez-el-Bab. The !75th was to fire in support of an infantry force made up of British troops who were to serve as the southern arm of the pincer. Though both attacks were stopped by the Germans, they had too few forces available to maintain their positions at Medjez-el-Bab, so on the night of 25/26 November they withdrew to positions nearer to Tunis.29 .. The Allied seizure of Medjez-ei-Bab did not, however, herald the Allied advance into Tunis, for it coincided with the arrival of the lead elements of the lOth Panzer division. Field Marshal Albert Kesselring, the commander of Germany's Mediterranean forces, ordered a limited attack to extend the size of the bridgehead. Throughout most of December both the Allies and Germans would receive reinforcements piecemeal, which would cause the battles around the approaches to Tunis to ebb and flow without either side gaining complete success. Since the 175th was on garrison duty, however, the ebb and flow of battle had little effect upon the only representative of the 34th division in the line. While the !75th Field Artillery battalion was engaged in the actions around Tunisia, the fragmentation of the division in Algiers continued. The 2nd battalion of the 133rd Infantry regiment was assigned to do.guard and police duty around the Allied headquarters in Algiers. Pressure by Ryder to get it returned to its parent regiment raised the ire of the Allied head­ quarters. Eventually Eisenhower's chief of staff, Lt. Gen. Walter Bedell Smith, became so angered by Ryder's attempts to reclaim his battalion that Ryder received instead the IOOth battalion. The IOOth battalion was composed of Japanese-Americans, and at a time when such citizens were still widely distrusted and disliked, this action was a clear slap in the face to the 34th's commander.Jo During the same period the 133rd regiment was posted along the border between Spanish Morocco and French Morocco to prevent the Germans from using the Spanish colony as a base for an attack against the Allied shore installations.l1 To further dissipate the division's strength, the !68th regiment and eventually the I 75th Field Artillery battalion were put under the command of the 1st Armored Division.32 Under these circumstances the division was unable to train as a unit so that in March, 1943, when it was finally reunited, it found itself unable to function like a unit - a discovery that was to be made at substantial cost. Before this reunion, however, the !68th was to be overrun during the battle of Kasserine Pass. In January, 1943, the I 68th Infantry regiment had been placed under the command of Col. Thomas A. Drake. At the same time the regiment was subordinated to the 1st Armored Division, which itself was under the control of the U.S. II Corps. The II Corps was a part of t he British I st Army and was under the immediate orders of Gen. Sir Kenneth Anderson. Under Anderson's orders was the II Corps commander, Maj. Gen. Lloyd R. Fredendall. Maj. Gen. Orlando Ward was in command of the 1st Armored Division. DJEBELS AND CASBAHS 19

Within this chain of command, Fredendall exercised the most independence. The role of his I I Corps was to hold the southern flank of the Allied advance into Tunisia. He was expected to use the I st Armored Division, which was his most powerful and mobile unit, as a mobile reserve to counter any German moves against the southern wing of the front. This was emphasized by Eisenhowe r's orders to Frcdendall commanding him to support and reinforce units holding the southern passes of the Eastern Dorsal range. These passes ultimately led to the coastal plains and served as the main arteries of advance into or out of the mountains. Fredendall, however, despised such a passive role and felt that II Corps should be more aggressive. He envisioned the II Corps launching a series of attacks to blood his troops and to instill in the Axis forces a dread of American arms. To do this he planned an offensive aimed at seizing the town of Maknassy. Maknassy lay to the east of another small village called the Station de Sened. Together these two commanded a defile which opened up onto the coastal plain not far from Sfax. Because Ward's division was his strongest division, Fredendall intended to use it for the attack on Maknassy. Fredendall's plans, however, began to go awry on January 30 when the Germans attacked and forced back the French defenders of the Faid Pass. Fredendall's orders had clearly specified that he was to support the French, so he was forced to detach part of Ward's division to attempt to force the Germans from the pass. Yet Fredendall refused to abandon his plans for Maknassy. Since the 1st Armored had already been divided and was operating by Combat Commands rather than as a whole unit, Fredendall instructed Ward to keep the division splintered. Combat Command A was to reinforce the French, assist their counterattack, and cover the northern approaches to the pass. Combat Command B hadjust completed operations around Fondouk, so was to be used as the division's reserve, thus allowing it time to refit and to receive �eplace­ ments. Combat Command C was to assist an ad hoc force called Combat Command D (which contained the I 68th Infantry regiment) in seizing first the Station de Sened and then Maknassy. Fredendall's orders, in other words, committed the division to attempt to help the French repel the Germans while simultaneously launching an attack of his own - all the while with a reserve that had taken a pretty heavy beating but a few days before.n The reason for Combat Command D's initial assault on the Station de Sened was that it covered the approaches to Maknassy. The attack was launched on January 31, 1943. Unfortunately, an earlier raid by Combat Command C against these same positions had resulted in the Axis forces beefing up the positions' defenses. As the troops deployed for the attack, a heavy and accurate fire came from the garrison's artillery and machine guns. A heavy attack by Stukas made the troops all the more miserable, and casualties began to mount. Since darkness was approaching, the attack was called off. Colonel Drake's headquarters and the 2nd battalion of the 168th were called in to deploy in the dark in order to resume the attack in the morning. The basic plan of maneuver for the attack was fairly complex, and the mass of the 2nd battalion managed to march beyond the American lines and get lost behind the German lines. Dy dawn, most of these men were either captured or too dispersed to render any effective assistance to the attack.J4 The next day saw no slackening in the volume of the defenders' fire, and it took Drake's personal bravery under fire to encourage the men to move forward. For these efforts Drake was later awarded the Silver Star.JS The more immediate reward for Drake, however, was that his actions had galvanized the men into taking Sened. The terrain between the Station de Sened and Maknassy was, however, still in German hands, and the advance was slow. By February 2 the troops of Combat Command D had almost reached Maknassy but were then driven back nearly to Sened by a strong German counterattack. Before the drive towards Maknassy could be resumed, instructions from I st Army were received which terminated any further actions against Maknassy. The 1st Armored Division was to pull back and use its troops to assist the French, who were being badly pressed in both the Faid and Fondouk passes. Combat Command B, moreover, was to be stripped from the 20 INDIANA MILITARY HISTORY JOURNAL

division so that it could be used as a reserve for the Ist Army. As a result, Combat Command D had to pull back to prevent over-extension and to assume Combat Command B's role as divisional reserve. With this in mind, the force established itself around the crossroads of Sid i Bou Zid. In addition to this force, Combat Command A was also assembled around Sidi Bou Zid to concentrate before a counterattack.36 As Drake commanded the largest portion of the infantry available, he should have been allowed to post them, or at least to have Ward, as his immediate superior commander, place them. Instead the Corps commander, Fredendall, issued exact orders as to how the troops would be positioned. These orders specified how the division would take positions which would stop any German attacks through the nearby Fiiid Pass.37 The root cause of such discourtesy was a deep dislike between Fredendall and Ward. Unfortunately, the consequences of such an attitude would be grave, for the orders showed little sense of reality concerning the ground. Sidi Bou Zid is a small village which lies in a depression whose eastern and southern walls are composed of three hill masses. To the east lies Dj ebel Lessouda, which rises to a height of 644 meters and easily dominates the eastern approaches to Sidi Bou Zid . To the southwest of Djebel Lessouda rise two hills known as Djebel Ksiiim and Dj ebel Garet Hadid, 560 meters and 620 meters high respectively.JH All three overlook any westward advance out of the pass and could provide excellent observation posts. Unfortunately, the plains between them tended to be fairly broad - there being some ten miles between the summits of Djebel Lessouda and either of the two southern heights. Yet Fredendall's directive had been quite clear:

Dj on the South and Dj on the north are key terrain features in the defense of Faid. These two

features must be held, with a mobile reserve in the vicinity of Sidi Bou Zid ... . A battalion of infantry should be employed for the defense of Dj ebel Ksaira, and the bulk of a battalion of infantry together with a battery of artillery and a company of tanks for the defense of Dj Le ssouda.l9

With no real alternative, therefore, Drake's command was to be split between three peaks which lay too fa r apart to be mutually supporting. The actual dist ribution was as follows: Company E and ' one platoon of Company H on Djebel Lessouda; Jrd battalion on Djebel Ksiiira;an d Drake, his headquarters company, the regimental band, engineers, medical detachments, an attached Tank Destroyer unit from the 9th Infantry division, and an attached ca nnon company were all posted on Djebel Garet Hadid .40 Not only were the regiment's positions not mutually supporting, the troops themselves were ill prepared to face the enemy. The I st and 2nd battalions had seen action and were somewhat experienced, but the Jrd battalion had not been transferred to the front from Algiers until the seventh of February.4' Some 450 replacements had been received on February 12 and were to be used to flesh out the other two battalions. Unfortunately, many of these replacements had been trained for other specialties and often had no infantry training.42 This situation was the result of a common American policy concerning replacements. The standard procedure was for replace­ ment troops to be shipped to the front in big groups regardless of what they were trained to do. At the front, those units which needed men drew them from the pool, and if they needed more infantrymen than were available in the available pool (as was often the case) then others would be taken and would become "infantrymen."43 When the German attack did come on February 14, 1943, the weaknesses of the positions' defenses became painfully obvious. The Germans attacked with fo ur battlegroups moving in converging directions so as to encircle and pulverize the defenses. These concentric advances were planned so that Sidi Bou Zid would receive all four attacks almost simultaneously. The northernmost arm of the attack moved completely around Dj ebel Lessouda while the center force drove through the gap between Djebels Lessouda and Ksaim. In this one maneuver the Germans had separated the 2nd battalion from Drake. Not only was physical contact lost, but radio contact as well, for a lucky hit during the early German bombardment had destroyed the DJEBELS AND CASBAHS 21

tank housing the battalion's long-range radios. In addition, the tank also contained the artillery's forward obser\'er. As a result, prescheduled artillery fires were not called and the Germans were undisturbed.44 Combat Command A, meanwhile, dispatched two companies of medium tanks and one of tank destroyers to counter the German force. Because radio contact was lost, they could not know the extent of the German forces facing them. As this force advanced out of Sidi Bou Zid it was taken under fire from the German 88mm and 75mm tank guns. Although clearly outranged, the force's commander persisted until he got close enough to observe that he was facing some eighty German tanks. At that he began a fighting withdrawal and radioed the information back to Combat Command A's commander. Upon receiving this information some of the artillery units around Sidi Bou Zid began to limber up and rctreat.45 This prompt withdrawal left the I 68th in a bad situation. The 2nd battalion was surrounded, while the retreat of the armored force from the area between Djebcls Lessouda and Ksiiira meant that the northern flank of the forces on Djebels Ksiiira and Garct Hadid was exposed as well. Since these forces were opposing a northerly thrust by a third German column, Drake's troops were left in a nutcracker by the withdrawal of the tanks and guns of Combat Command A. This left Drake with no alternative but to abandon his blocking positions in the valley floor between Djebels Ksiiira and Garet Hadid in the hopes that most of the troops could gain the heights of Garet Hadid before being overrun by the Germans.46 Desperate for aid, Drake sought air support from Combat Command A's commander, and when this failed he inquired as to why the artillery which was so vital was running. The response was that they were "shifting positions." Drake's response was, "Shifting positions, hell ... I know panic when I see it."47 This retort gives clear indication of the strains under which Drake was operating. No Allied air support had been visible, while the Luftwaffe had been most active and effective in supporting the attack of the panzers. The withdrawal of the artillery left Drake with little to slow the Germans, and the retreat of Combat Command A had meant the withdrawal of the supply elements at a time when supplies of ammunition were beginning to run low. Fredendall's orders were, however, to hold.48 On Djebel Lessouda the 2nd battalion watched the inexorable advance of the panzers and knew that they were surrounded. The battalion commander had been separated from his command for most of the day and in the late afternoon was captured. This left the mantle of command to a young major named Robert R. Moore.49 Although cut off from Dnike by the loss of a radio and obviously surrounded and uncertain in command , Moore did his best to maintain his defenses. During the next day Combat Command C was ordered to launch an attack to rescue the stranded !68th. The attack was a failure of the first order. Rough terrain broke the ranks of the advancing tanks, while strafing and bombing runs by the Luftwaffe further dispersed the tankers. The German anti-tank guns outranged the tank-mounted guns of the Americans, and as a few American tanks did begin to approach Sidi Bou Zid, fourteen German tanks which had been hidden ncar the reverse slope of Djebel Lessouda mounted a counterattack on the left flank of Combat Command C's advance. Combat Command C's tanks were quickly annihilated, though a, good portion of its infa ntry was able to retreat.50 In light of the fa ilure of this counterattack, Ward ordered the battalions of the I 68th to break out. Because of the destroyed radio, the 2nd battalion had to be notified by a note dropped from an airplane.51 Efforts by all three battalions of the I 68th were hampered by effective German patrolling and by the fa tigue of the American troops who had, in some cases, been operating with fe w food supplies after they were surrounded. While marching westward , Drake's battalion was spotted by armored cars and swiftly encircled by the armored cars and some infantry. Drake and his men surrendered. Of the 800 men with Major Moore on Djebel Lessouda, 432 reached American lines. Of the force on Djebel Ksiiira,only two infa ntrymen and one lieutenant escaped capture or death and managed to reach American lines.52 While the events at Sidi Bou Zid saw the virtual annihilation of the I 68th regiment, the division's other components survived the battle with their organization and strengths fa irly well 22 INDIANA MILITARY HISTORY JOURNAL

intact. The 33rd Infa ntry regiment had been sent to reinforce the French around Fondouk but fought in conjunction with some British infa ntry. The !35th Infantry regiment was sent to reinforce Sbiba, but by the time it arrived, the artillery of the 9th division had already blunted most of the German attack. Fighting under British control, the regiment proved solid and ca pable. Like the 133rd, the !35th proved itself to be capable if not overly aggressive.SJ The determined resistance at Sbiba, the increased British pressure at the Mareth line, and the stiffening of American resistance all contributed to the German decision to cease its offensive. During the ensuing reprieve Ryder was finally able to consolidate his regiments back into a division. The 133rd and the I 35th were released back into his command and replacements we re used to reconstitute the 168th which now came under the command of Col. Robert B. Butler. 54 During this time the II Corps' new commander became Maj. Gen. George S. Patton, Jr. Nearly a month was alloted to the division to enable it to rebuild itself to its best potential. Once put back in the line, the division had been moved to the area around Fondouk. During the last week and a half of March Patton began to push for a task which would blood the American troops and to help them dispel the gloom of inferiority which Kasserine seemed to have built in some people's minds concerning the combat abilities of American troops. The British commander of the I st Army, however, remained skeptical, and the missions given to II Corps kept itas an adjunct to the advances of the 8th Army. As part of this effort, the 34th was assigned the task of launching diversionary attacks in the Fondouk Pass. Patton's orders to the division specificaliy pointed to a role of making noise and diverting German reserves. The II Corps, in other words, was not to be allowed another independent mission. The idea behind this attack was not entirely derogatory, for a subsidiary aim of the attack was to reinstill the offensive spirit in the division and to give it practice at coordinating its components for attacks. This was, at least in part, because the 34th was seen by Patton and the British as "too defensive ." In light of his orders to do no more than to demonstrate, however, Ryder was unwilling to push his attacks too fa r or to really endanger his troops. As a result, there was still considerable concern among the British as to the abilities of the Americans. Nor was Ryder's hesitancy to expend lives the only concern, for, in three days of infiltration attacks, the 34th not only seized no objectives but also allowed its regiments to open up gaps at their junctures. Night maneuvers by the 34th were little more'successful, while the patrolling was ra ther timid. The Germans in this sector were somewhat contemptuous as the official record shows, for one officer wrote, "Our men feel superior to the enemy in every respect. ... "55 Nevertheless, the very fact that any attack threatened the possible routes of supply or retreat forced the Germans to divert one of their divisions - the lOth Panzer - to prevent a breakthrough by II Corps. As the British offensive began to push the Germans out of the Wadi Akarit, however, the First Army began to reassess the value of having the Fondouk opened in order to cut off those German units which might try to flee the Akarit position. Pursuant to this the 34th was detached from II Corps and was assigned to the British IX Corps under Lt. Gen. Sir John Crocker.56 In a conference of his principal division commanders on April 6, 1943, Crocker unveiled his plan of attack. The pass would be divided in half. Ryder's command was to seize and hold the right side of the pass, while the British would seize the left side. British armor would then be moved through the pass to encircle the German forces around the Akarit line. The key to this mission was to be speed, for the pass had to be cleared before the enemy's forces could escape.Gener al Ryder opposed this plan strongly, for he claimed it violated the principles of wa r to divide the objective in such a manner. Most of the pass was dominated by Djebel A in el Rhorab which rose to a height of 290 meters. From this height, observers could call heavy concentrations of fire against any attack. It was forbidden, for fear of hitting British troops, for the American artillery to fire on Djebel Ain el Rhorab, so an American attack would be exposed to enfilading fire from machine guns and artillery based within the British zone. Since the British unit was to make an earlier attack near Pichon, it was overly optimistic to expect the two units to coordinate attacks so that the Germans could not switch their forces to meet each DJEBELS AND CASBAHS 23

assault.57 Crocker refused to be swayed by these objections, and the attack was ordered to proceed as planned. The attack went very much as Ryder had predicted it would. As the 34th's infantry advanced, they were blanketed by heavy concentrations of artillery. Given their recent experiences around Kasserine, most of the men dug in, and the attack was effectively killed, for no exhortation could persuade them to attempt further advances.ss The British infantry brigade which had been assigned to take Djebel Ain el Rhorab attacked behind schedule and was rapidly driven to earth. To reinvigorate the attack, British tanks were called in, but they managed to overrun some of the American units in their haste to go fo rward.59 Not surprisingly the tank assault fa iled, and casualties were high. The fol lowing day Ryder tried a diffe rent approach by trying to push his tanks through the enemy positions without warning them of the impending attack with a preliminary bombardment. This attack also failed, this time because the infantry was pinned down by fire and could not support the tanks. A British attack against Djebel Ain el Rhorab finally succeeded that afternoon, but that was largely due to the fact that the German units had escaped the noose, and there was no longer a need for the mobile units around Fondouk to remain engaged with a force that could pose no further harm. Accusations and recriminations following this battle were quite bitter. Crocker felt that the 34th's failure to seize its objectives on the first day compromised the attack and allowed the Germans to escape from the Akarit position. In conversations with both his superior head­ quarters and the press Crocker blasted the Americans as timid and incompetent. At Allied headquarters these claims we re largely ignored. As Caffey said,

Crocker went back to Algiers and tried there, both at AFHQ Allied Forces Headquarters and with the press, to discredit the 34th and blame it. Time published such an article without ever sending a man to the 34th .... But ... Bradley and Patton knew the story and supported Ryder. In the end, it was Crocker who was relieved.60

The publicity which ensued did not directly name the 34th because of wartime censorship but left Americans wondering just what their boys were doing. Another magazine that wrote about the Americans' failure to burst through the pass was Life, which described the Americans as "61 unable to advance until "Th.e British saved the situation at some cost. . . . The Allied command, though, was not ready to wash the division out. As Caffey had said, the people in Algiers knew the score. Eisenhower noted that the 34th had received strong criticism, of which some was deserved. But, he continued, "In view of the excellence of the material we have, the last thing we should do is entertain the thought that they can not rapidly become first class fighting units."62 Bradley also championed the cause of the 34th and argued that a short period of intensive training could rehabilitate the division.63 The result was a six day intensive training course in which such things as cooperation with tanks and close following of creeping barrages were stressed .64 The test of this training was to be Hill 609. Hill 609, which was originally named Dj ebel Tahent, was the key to the German defensive line in northern Tunisia and hence controlled the approaches to Bizerte. It was an eminence which was surrounded by a number of nearby heights, each of which was a fortress in itself. Each position was close enough to its neighbors that machine gun and artillery fire could strike at the Allies as they attempted to storm any single height. The specific German strategy was to position artillery on the reverse slope of each hill. Observers with radios or telephones would call and direct fire as needed. The front slopes would be lightly held by machine-gun posts, and mines in front of these positions would delay any attack. Attacks on adjoining hills would be hit with enfilade fire, and all the guns on the reverse slopes had been previously registered to the exact range of all places of concealment and all likely avenues of attack. The larger infantry forces were then posted on the surrounding heights so that if any one position was taken, they could immediately form up for counter- 24 INDIANA MILITARY HISTORY JOURNAL

attacks. While these counterattacks were forming the preregistered artillery would be called in on the Allied troops to prevent them from consolidating their positions.6S The key to successfully attacking such positions was seizing enough of them to break the chain of mutual support, for the mere penetration of one was an expensive and futile gesture. The 34th's first attack was launched on 26 April. The I 35th Infantry regiment followed the barrage closely and reached the slopes of609, but severe fire from German positions to the west and north of the Americans drove them to ground before they could prepare for the inevitable counterattack, and when the counterattack came, they were driven off of the hill.66 Over the next two nights two more night attacks were launched, each failing for the same reason. In frustration Ryder developed a complex plan in which the regiment's three battalions would each approach and attack from a different direction. The attacks were planned for April 29, but heavy concentrations of artillery fire drove the attackers to ground in two of the three prongs. The western attack managed to cross the open ground in front of their objective because they followed very closely behind their rolling barrage. The expected German attack, however, drove them off before they could consolidate.67 Some idea of the weight of German fire can be ga uged by looking at the casualty figures, for after these attacks the division had 183 men killed , I ,594 wounded, and 676 captured or missing.68 Ryder was determined to seize the hill, however, and so developed a new plan. This time a fresh battalion was io advance on one axis of attack, but would do so in conjunction with tanks. The tanks would accompany the infantry all the way and would thus be able to help it consolidate and repel the counterattacks. Meanwhile the 1st Infantry Division would launch attacks on some of Djebel Tahent's supporting hills. On April 30, 1945, the division's final attack on Hill 609 began. The infa ntry followed closely upon the heels of the tanks and, once on Hill 609's slopes, spread out quickly. The prompt German counterattack was smothered in fire from the tanks' guns, which demoralized the Germans. Later counterattacks were launched, but by then the men of the 34th were dug in and artillery concentrations were called in to support them, thus driving off the Germans.69 No less useful than the tanks' firepower was the fact that regimental officers had learned to adjust fire. No longer was the division dependent upon a few forward observers to correct fire. To further enhance this capability, Ryder had developed a system which he'and Caffey called the phantom system. It involved the use of eight or nine jeeps, each with a radio. Ryder was in one; regimental commanders, in others; and fo rward observers were in the rest. As problems arose or enemy concentrations were spotted, anyone in the net could call fire. This flexibility greatly increased the reaction time of the supporting batteries. At one point, for example, a regimental officer called in fire on Germans massing to counterattack, and the fire was so effective that the attack was entirely crushed .10 With the fall of Hill 609 the German line in northern Tunisia was compromised, and the Germans were forced to fall back. With strong pressure being exerted all along the front, they had no time to erect other defenses of the complexity of Hill 609. They also lacked gas, ammunition, and medical supplies, so the situation facing the soldiers of the 34th became progressively easier. The final sul"render was especially pleasing for the members of the 34th, for their pe rsistent efforts had contributed to the German defeat. While their earlier efforts had been dogged by misfortune and incorrect responses, the division had rarely really surrendered. Even at Sidi Bou Zid many of the troops continued to do the best that they could in a bad situa­ tion. The victory at Djebel Tahent proved to all that the division had learned, matured, and become battle hardened. As Bradley had written, "As I expected, the victory on Hill 609 restored self confidence in the division, and no one ever again would question its courage. In fact, it went on to become one of the finest infantry outfits of World War If."71 In reward, the division was given the honor of providing the American contingent for the Allied victory parade in Tunis on May 23, 1943. No less a perfectionist of military manners than Patton commented on how strong and "well turned out" they were.72 DJ EBELS AND CASBAHS 25

The 34th's triumph was one of perseverance and costly sacrifice. But to a large degree this is not really the story of a few thousand farmers from the Midwest; rather it is the story of the whole nation's experience of war. Unused to large scale actions, with the cob-webs of peaceful times still in their heads, the soldiers of America found difficulty in facing the veterans of conquests. Confusion reigned among those who were not yet fa miliar with how to control large bodies of men or even how to supply them. In spite of this handicap, though, the men persevered and in time vanquished their foes. Once the lessons had been learned and the men hardened, the superiority of the German soldier was whittled down to a factor which was no longer important enough to matter. At that point, the boys of the Midwest and of America itself we re on the first steps home, for the defeat of the foes was a clear message upon the wall for all to see.

NOTES

1 John H. Hougen, The Story of the Fa mo11s 34th Infantry Division (Arlington, Virginia: Newsfoto Publishing Co., 1949), iii. 2 Ib id., 8; see also Laurence Stallings, nre Do11ghboys (New York: Popular Library, 1964), 442-43. J Hougen, 8. • E. J. Kahn and Henry McLemore, FightinK Divisions: Histories of Each U.S. Field Army Combat Division in World War II (Washington, D.C.: Zenger Publishing Co., Inc., 1946), 49. s Hougen, 8. h Stallings, 440. 7 Hougen, 10. The actual composition of the division when it was sent overseas was as follows: the 133rd, I 35th, and I 68th Infantry regiments; the I 25th, I 51st, I 75th, and I 85th Field Artillery battalions; the 109th Quartermaster regi­ ment and the I 09th Medical and Engineer battalions and the I 09th Ordnance company; the 34th Reconnaissance troop and Signal, Military Police. and O;dnance companies. U.S. War Department, To Bizerte with the II Corps (Washington, D.C., 1943), 55. 1 Ib id. , 13. According to Hougen, the first U.S. serviceman to step onto a foreign shore was P6vate William Henke of Minnesota . Ibid., 15. • William 0. Da rby and William Baumer, Darby's Rangers: We l.Pd the Way (San Rafael, Ca lifornia: Presidio Press. 1980), 2. IO George F. Howe interview with Orig. Gen. Ocnjamin Caffey at the Pentagon, 21 February 1950. From "Miscellaneous Notes on the Mediterranean Ca mpaign" folder at U.S. Military History Institute at Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania. 11 Darby, 2-3. 25-26; see also James Ladd, Commandos and Rangers of World War II (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1978), 107-08. ll Darby, 26-27. I J llougen, 16, 19. " Ibid. , 19. IS Ibid .• 13. lh George F. Howe, The United States Army in World War II, Northwest Africa: Seizing the Initiative in the West (Washington, D.C.: Office of the Chief of Military History, 1957), 230-31, 237. 1 7 Ib id. . 24 1. II Ibid .. 237. 1• Ib id., 237-39. lo Hougen, 24-25; see also Howe, Northwest Africa, 24 1-43. 21 Jack Coggins, The Ca mpaign fo r North Africa (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1980), 92. ll llougcn, 24-25. ll Ibid. , 25. 24 Darby, 10. 26 INDIANA MILITARY HISTORY JOURNAL

1 2 Ib id., 14-23. 26 Howe, Northwi'St Africa, 248. 27 Ibid. , 287. 28 George F. Howe, The Bailie llistory of the 1st Armored Dil'ision (Washington, D.C.: Combat Forces Press, 1954), 62. 29 Howe, No rthwest Afrira, 302-03. Jo Caffey interview. 1 1 Hougen, 32. l 2 Ib id. , 38. 11 Howe, Northwest Africa, 39 1-93; see also Howe, Ba/111' History, 116. l4 Howe, Northwest Africa, 396. n Hougen, 38; see also Martin Blumenson, Kassnine Pass (New York: Playboy Press, 1983), 123. J6 Howe, Northwest Africa, 339. J7 Blumenson, Kasserine Pal'S, 121-22; see also Howe, Battle History , 136. Jl Howe, Northwest Africa, 390. J9 Howe, Ba/111' llistory, 136. 40 Hougen, 39. 41 Ibid. , 39. 42 Ibid. , 39. o Martin van Creveld, Fighting Po wn: Gt'rman and U. S. Army Pnformance, 1939-1945 (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1982), 76-77. 44 Howe, Northwl'st Afrira, 411. 1 4 Howe, Bailie History, 146-49. 46 Howe, Northwest Africa, 412-13. 47 Blumenson, Kassninl' Pass, 144. 41 The forces then available to the I 68th were approximately 650 men on Djebel Garet Hadid, 1000men on Djebel Ksa'ira, and 900 on Djebel Lessouda. Blumenson, Kasserine Pass, 145-47, 165. 49 Ib id., 164-68. 1o Ib id., 159-63. II Ib id., 169. 12 Hougen, 40-4 1. n Ib id., 43. 14 Ibid. , 47. II Howe, No rthwest Africa, 58,1-82. 16 Ib id., 582-83. 17 Ib id. , 583-85; see also George F. Howe interview with Gen. Charles W. Ryder at the Pentagon, 21 Fe bruary 1950. From �Miscellaneous Notes on Mediterranean Theater" folder at U.S. Army Military History Institute at Ca rlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania. II Howe, No rthwest Africa, 587. 19 Ibid., 587; see also George F. Howe interview with Col. Robert W. Wa rd (former commanding officer of 135th Infa ntry regiment) at the National War College, 30 November 1950. From �Miscellaneous Notes on Mediterranea n Theater" folder at U.S. Military History Institute at Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania. 60 Caffey interview; Patton's diary entry for April l2, 1943, clearly shows his understanding of Ryder's problems. He writes, "The 34th Division ... did not do too well, but that was largely because Crocker sent it on an impossible mission with both flanks open." Martin Blumenson, ed., The Pal/on Papns, 1940-1945 (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1974), 218. 61 MAmericans in Tunisia Learn War," life , April 26, 1943, 15. 62 Alfred D. Chandler, ed., The Pap ns of Dwight DavidEi smhown, n,e War Years: Vo l. II (Balt imore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1970), 1093. u Omar Bradley and Clair Blair (ed.),A Gmera/'s lift': An Awobiography (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1984), 150-5 1. 64 In addition, a number ofju nior officers were replaced by more aggressive officers and NCOs. See the Caffey interview. 61 Hougen, 56; see also Howe, Northwest Africa, 628-29, 632. 66 Ib id., 631. 67 Ib id., 633. 1 6 Ib id. , 633. 69 To Biznte with thl' II Corps, 20-2 1; see also Howe, Northwest Africa. 635-37. 10 Caffey interview. 71 Bradley, 157. 72 George S. Patton, Jr., War As I Klll'w It (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1947), 44. A HOOSIER ACE WITH THE FLYING TIGERS

by Arville L. Funk

On December 20, 1941, a force of ten Japanese bombers approached the Chinese City of Kunming for their almost daily bombing raid. Suddenly out of the clouds drove a group of P-40 fighter planes, bearing Chinese air force markings, but with the nose of each plane painted as a fe rocious shark. The surprised Japanese pilots tried to take evasive action, but within a matter of minutes the shark-nosed fighters, being ' flown by American volunteer pilots, sent six of the bombers crashing in flames.1 The Japanese pilots had just had their first encounter with the most amazing aviation unit assembled in World War II, the American Volunteer Group, more popularly known as "The Flying Tigers." Flying in this first A. V.G. mission against the Japanese was a native of Middletown, Indiana, William E. Bartling, who was to become the first Hoosier "Ace" of World War II. The story of the A.V.G . began many months before in April, 1941, when Col. Claire Lee Chennault, a retired U.S. Air Corps officer then serving with the Chinese Government, proposed to equip and train an effective air force unit of volunteer American pilots to challenge the Japanese in the skies over China.2 In order to secure the pilots, Chennault received permission to recruit pilots from the U.S. Armed Services from President Franklin D. Roosevelt, under the conditions that the volunteer pilots could resign their commissions without problems and be hired by the Central Aircraft Manufacturing Company(CAMCO), a civilian company operating airplane factories in China.J During May, June, and July (194 1), Commander Rutledge Irvine, U.S.N., and C. B. "Skip" Adair, an ex-Army pilot, visited military installations and interviewed the prospects. They soon hired about ninety pilots and approximately one hundred and fifty ground personnel. Almost one-half of the pilots were from the Navy, six were Marines, and the remaining thirty-five were from the Army Air Corps.4

• Arville Funk is the author of A Hoosier Regiment in Dixie and afr equent contributor to the Journal.

27 28 INDIANA MILITARY HISTORY JOURNAL

Of this number, several were from Indiana. William Evart Bartling was recruited by Commander Irvine while he was serving as a navy dive bomber pilot on the U.S.S. Wasp. Ba rtling, the son of Arthur and Orpha Bartling, R. R. 2, Middletown, lived near the little community of Sulphur Springs. After high school, he attended Michigan School of Mines, then transferred and graduated from Purdue University about 1935.5 He enlisted in the Naval Air Corps and was commissioned and received his pilot wings. In the summer of 1941 he resigned his commission to join the A. V.G., probably for the desire of adventure in China and also for the financial rewards of $600 per month salary plus a bonus of$500 for every confirmed enemy plane shot down.6 Also recruited from the U.S. Navy was Electrician's Mate 1/c Wayne W. Ricks, a propeller specialist from Reynolds, Indiana.7 Recruited from the Army Air Corps was Julian Terry, a Hoosier from Greencastle who was to serve as an administrative clerk with the Third Squadron of the A. V.G.8 Sgt. Morgan Vauz of the U.S. Army, a native of Wisconsin but a present resident of Greentown, Indiana, enlisted as a communications specialist with the A.V.G.9 In June, July, and August, 1941, most of the A.V.G. volunteers left San Francisco for Rangoon as civilians on four Dutch ships, the Jargenfontein, Boschfontein, Zandan, and 8/oomfontein.IO After arrival at Rangoon, the volunteers were transported to a British airfield , Kyedaw, located at Toungoo, Burma, some 175 miles to the north of Rangoon.I J There the A. V.G. pilots began their training in the newly assembled P-40B fighter planes purchased by the Chinese from the Curtiss-Wright Company.J2 The pilots were separated into three squadrons. Bartling was assigned to the First Squadron commanded by Robert "Sandy" Sandell. The First Squadron was christened the "Adam and Eve" Squadron. The Second Squadron became the "Panda Bears," and the Third Squadron was christened "Hells Angels."IJ In December, the First and Second Squadrons were sent to Kunming, China, and the Third Squadron was sent to defend Rangoon. At Kunming on December 20 occurred the historic first encounter between the Flying Tigers and the Japanese. Because the A. V.G. pilots could not individually confirm the six "kills," the fourteen pilots involved decided to split the six victories equally.14 Bartling continued to serve with the First Squadron flying out of Kunming until about the middle of January.

Fi rst Squadron P-40 with "Adam and Eve " apple insignia, Kunming, Ch ina HOOSIER ACE 29

Hoosier Ace Bill Bartling in the cockpit of his P-40, Kunming. Ch ina, 1942

Commander Sandy Sandell, Bartling, and four other pilots were sent to Rangoon to the Minaladon Airfield to help the Second Squadron on January 13. A few days later, Bob Neale, the vice squad ron leader, brought eight more pilots to Rangoon.•s On January 23, the Japanese struck in a gigantic daytime raid on the Rangoon area. The A.V.G. and the R.A.F. sent all available fighters into the air and caught the Japanese planes east of Rangoon. Bartling and the A. V.G. shot down twenty-one enemy planes; however, on Bartling's second trip into the action, his P-40Tomahawk was hit several times by a Japanese fighter. He was forced to crash land in a rice paddy. Bartling was unhurt but his P-40 was severely damaged .l6 On the first of February, 1942, the Tigers only had eighteen serviceable planes available at Rangoon.•7 Bartling flew several missions in a five-plane flight led by Bob Neale and received credit for two enemy planes shot down. However, the First Squadron suffered the loss of their commander, Sandy Sandell, when he was killed on a test flight on February·?. Bob Neale was appointed the new squadron commander. The A. V.G. had celebrated their tOOth aerial victory of the war on February 6 and was receiving much publicity not only in China but in the United States.18 Soon the Second Squadron received orders to move from Rangoon back to Kunming. From February 7 to February 27 the First Squadron, with less than a dozen pilots, had to defend the Rangoon skies against an increasing enemy air force. The Japanese army continued its advance on the ground toward Rangoon, and on February 23 Commander Neale had to order evacuation of all ground personnel by convoy along the Burma Road to China.l9 On February 25 the " Adam and Eves" flew a late afternoon mission at Rangoon. They struck the Japanese raiders in a surprise attack and destroyed twenty enemy planes.2o Bill Bartling had one confirmed kill and also a "probable." On February 27 the Tigers flew their last mission at Rangoon, shooting down eleven enemy planes.21 On February 28, Neale and ten other weary pilots including Bill Bartling flew out of Rangoon to return to safer quarters. Rangoon fell to the Japanese on March 6. The First Squadron was ordered to an R.A. F. airfield at Magwe, Burma.22 The squadron was stationed there until March 13 when it was transferred to the A.V.G. headquarters at Kunming.2J The Adam and Eve group was only flying a few missions at this time as they were awaiting badly needed replacement planes. 30 INDIANA MILITARY HISTO RY JOURNAL

On March 21 the A.V.G. field at Magwe, Burma, was bombed by over eighty Japanese planes. One A. V.G. crew chief was killed and another fatally wounded, and much damage was done to the planes and facilities.24 The Tigers immediately planned a retaliatory mission against the Japanese Air Force headquarters at Chiang Mai, Thailand. On March 22 a select group of ten pilots, five from each of the First and Second Squadrons, took off for Loiwing, China. There Bartling and the nine other pilots spent the night and flew on to an R.A. F. Airfield at Namsang.2s At 6: 10 A.M. on March 24 the ten planes took off for the strike at Chiang Mai. Bartling and Greg "Pappy" Boyington (later commander of the Black Sheep Squad ron) were flying in number three and four positions behind Charlie Bond and leader Bob Neale. At a few minutes after 7 A.M., Neale's flight streaked in over the unsuspecting enemy base and began to strafe a line of Japanese 1-97 fighters. The Tigers made three strafing attacks, and Charlie Bond stated in his diary that "the entire airfield seemed to be in flames." Bond estimated that twenty­ five to thirty enemy planes were destroyed on the ground.26 The sq uadron lost two Tiger pilots, Jack Newkirk and Mac McGarry.27 During the last of March and the first of April the A. V.G. activities were limited because of a lack of available planes. Chennault had made arrangements to acquire some P-40Es, a later version of the P-40 B Tomahawks. Whereas the P40Bs had four .30 caliber machine guns in the wings and a pair of .50 caliber machine guns firing through the prop, the P-40E had six .50 Caliber machine guns in the wings.28 Also the P-40E had bomb racks installed so the plane could also be used as a dive bomber.29 Link Laughlin, a Tiger ace with the Third Squadron, fe lt that the additional weight of the P-40E made it handle a little sluggishly compared to the Tomahawk.30 On April II, 1942, Bartling and six other pilots were sent to Karachi, India, to pick up seven of the new P-40Es. They returned to Kunming on April 21 and immediately began to fly missions against enemy bombing raids and an occasional mission in support of Chinese bombers supporting their troops in northern Burma .JI Bartling and the other A. V.G. pilots also were notified at this time that on July 4, 1942, the A.V.G. would be disbanded with the hope that the pilots would enlist ,in the U.S. Army Air Corps. On May 2 the First Squadron was sent to an airfield at Paoshan, China, just north of the Burma border to support Chinese bombers that were conducting raids on Katkai and Lashio, Burma .n The next day, on its first mission out of Paoshan, Bartling sighted a Japanese reconnaissance plane, and just as he was ready to fire on the unsuspecting Japanese, Bob Neale also caught the recon plane in its sights and blasted it out of the air in two quick bursts.J3 Bartling was very disturbed as he was the first to see the recon plane but lost the $500 bonus to Neale. Bartling and his Adam and Eve comrades returned to Kunming on May 6. Three days later Bartling got a second chance at a Japanese recon plane as he chased one out over Kunming Lake. The enemy plane attempted to out climb the P-40, but Bartling stayed with the Japanese and finally set him afire at an altitude of 27,000 feet. Since the P-40 usually never climbed over 24,000 feet, Bartling's conquest was looked on as quite a feat by his A.V.G. buddies.34 During the next two weeks in May the Tigers were sent out on several dive bombing missions against the Japanese ground forces which were advancing north on the Burma Road. As a result of these successful raids, Chennault stated that the A.V.G. had saved the Chinese Army from collapsing in the vicinity of the Salween River and saved the Burma Road .35 On May 21 Chennault, who had recently been commissioned a Brig. Gen. in the USAAF, called a special meeting of all pilots to try and persuade them to stay in China and join the USAA F.J6 Chennault was to command the new Twenty-third Fighter Group that was to be organized in July when the A. V.G. would be disbanded. Bartling and several otherfo rmer navy pilots were not too enthusiastic about joining the USAAF. On June 7 Bartling was ordered to take a flight of four P-40s to an outlying dispersal field that was named Generalissimo Field. Upon arriving at the field, Bartling tried to land at the field HOOSIER ACE 31

downwind. He touched down too fast and ended upground looping the plane and tore off the landing gear. The next two planes following did the same thing and three out of the four planes were damaged .l7 Commander Neale was very unhappy, and it was Bartling's most embarrassing moment of his A. V.G. service. On June II the First Squadron was transferred to Kweilin, China, to provide protection against the increasing Japanese bombing raids in that area. The Kweilin airfield was the best field that the A. V.G. fo und in China. The airstrip was a mile long, and the airfield had high earthworks to protect the planes and hillside caves for air raid shelters.JB The Tigers were successful in their first few missions, knocking down ten enemy planes on June 12 alone.J9 On June 23 the squadron was sent to Hengyang, China, to help the Second Squadron in their defense of Hengyang and supporting some USAAF units there. The Tigers not only flew defensive missions but also bombing raids in support of four B-25s against the large Japanese air base at Hankow, destroying many planes on the ground and doing much damage to ground facilities.4o On July I the citizens of Hengyang gave a large banquet for the A.V.G., and the Tigers prepared fo r their muster out and the turning in of their equipment to the Twenty-third Fighter Group. On July 4 the A.V.G. was officially disbanded as a unit. However, General Chennault had requested volunteers stay on for two additional weeks. Twenty pilots, including Bill Bartling, and twenty-four ground personnel volunteered for the two weeks additional duty.41 From July 5 to July 16 the Tiger volunteers escorted USAAF bombers on raids of Japanese bases. On July 9 Pete Wright shot down the last Japanese plane credited to the A.V.G. This brought the total confirmed kills to 286, with at least that many more in the unconfirmed calegory.42 The Flying Tigers had thirty-nine aces,4J including the leading ace, Bob Neale, with sixteen and Bill Bartling with seven and one-fourth enemy planes.44 The A. V.G. lost a total of twelve pilots killed in action. The last two Tiger Pilots to lose their lives were volunteers John Petach and Arnold W. Shamblin, who were shot down on July 10, 1942.45 Thirty-nine of the A. V.G. personnel chose to stay with Chennault in the U.S. Tenth Air Force. Seventeen pilots including Bill Bartling and Link Laughlin elected to accept a flying position with the China National Aviation Corporation (CN AC).46 This organization was to fly C-47scarrying military cargo and personnel over the famous "Hump." On October 12 Bartling and Link Laughlin crashed in a C-47 while attempting a take-off near Dinjan.47 Bartling suffe red a broken leg and assorted contusions and cuts. He and Laughlin were evacuated to a U.S. Army hospital in Karachi, India. Laughlin was able to return tothe CN AC in about six months, but Bartling was hospitalized for several months longer and eventually had to return to the United States.48 The Hoosier ace's war-time service had ended. Bartling became the first Hoosier ace of World War II and was awarded the Order of the Cloud and Danner and the Winged Star MedaJ.49 Of the other Hoosiers with the A.V.G., Wayne Ricks returned to the Pacific Ocean area as a field service engineer and technical advisor fo r the Curtiss Wright Company. He served on the staff of Admiral Chester Nimitz.n Julian "Dick" Terry was in an aircraft accident while in China and, because of his injuries, was not able to return to military service.5JMo rgan H. Vaux returned to the United States by way of India and then enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps, where he served the remainder of the war.54 Probably the tribute paid the A. V.G. by President Franklin D. Roosevelt best sums up the contribution of the Flying Tigers to the war effort. The President stated in his letter to the Tigers: "The outstanding gallantry and conspicuous daring that the American Volunteer Group combined with their unbelievable efficiency is a source of tremendous pride throughout the whole of America."55 The A. V.G. was in combat for a little over six months in World War II. However, forty years later it is perhaps the best re membered aerial fighter group of the United States forces. 32 INDIANA MILITARY HISTORY JOURNAL

NOTES

1 Martin Ca idin, 11rl' Raggl'd, Ruggl'd Warriors (New York: Ballantine Books, 1967), 218. 1 Ron Heiferman, F�ving 1igl'rs, Ch l'nnault in Ch ina (New York: Ballantine Books, 1971), 17. l Letter to the author from Morgan H. Vaux (A.V.G.), 4 September 1984. 4 Russell Whelan, 17rl' F�ving Tigm; (New York: Viking Press, 1942), 25. s Letter to the author from Middletown Public Library, 21 August 1984. 6 Letter to the author from Maj. Gen. Charles R. Bond, Jr. (A.V.G.), 13 November 1984. 1 Letter to the author from Wayne W. Ricks (A.V.G.), 21 September 1984. ' Whelan, Fly ing 1igl'rs, 160. 9 Letter to the author from Morgan H. Vaux (A.V.G.), 4 September 1984. 10 Larry M. Pistole, Tht' Pictorial History of tht' Fly ing Ti gPrs (Orange, Virginia: Moss Publications, 1981), 50. " Ca idin, Ruggl'd Warriors, 212. l l Whelan, Fly ing 1igPrs, 23. I ) Ib id., 32. 14 Letter to the author from Richard Rossi (A.V.G.), 2 September 1984. I S Charles R. Bond, Jr., A Fly ing Tign's Diary (College Station, Texas: Texas A & M Press, 1984), 81. 16 Bond, Diary, 78. " Whelan. Fly ing 1igns, 88. II Bond, Diary. 78. " Whelan, Fly ing 1igns, 93. lD Ib id. , 95. ll Ib id.. 95. ll Bond, Diary, 119. n Ibid. , 127. l4 Ib id., 130. H Ib id., 132. l6 Ibid., 137. 11 Gregory Boyington, Baa Boa Black Sh l't'p (New York: Bantam Books, 1977), 89. l l Letter to the author from C. H. (Link) Laughlin (A.V.G.), 28 September 1984. l9 Bond, Diary, 171. lD Letter to the author from C. H. (Link) Laughlin (A.V.G.), 28 September 1977. Jl Bond, Diary, 158. l l Ib id. , 161. JJ Ib id., 162. 34 Ibid. , 175. H Claire Chennault, Way of a Fightn (New York: Putnam, 1949), 167. J6 Bond, Diary, 177. J1 Ib id., 185. Jl Whelan, Fly ing 1igPrs, 141. J9 Bond. Diary, 191. 40 Whelan, Fly ing 1igprs, 145. 4 1 Pistole, Pictorial History, 250. 4l Ca idin, Ruggl'd Warriors, 230. 41 Gene Gurney, Fi vl' Down and Glory (New York: Ballantine Books, 1958), 50. 44 Letter to the author from Richard Rossi (A.V.G.), 2 September 1984. 4S Pistole, Pictorial History, 250. 46 Ib id., 250. 47 Letter to the author from C. H. (Link) Laughlin (A.V.G.), 17 September 1984. 41 Ibid. 49 Letter to the author from Richard Rossi (A.V.G.), 2 September 1984. so Ibid. s1 New Castle CouriPr, 23 November 1979. n Letter to the author from Wayne W. Ricks (A.V.G.), 21 September 1984. SJ Ib id. s4 Letter to the author from Morgan H. Vaux (A.V.G.), 4 September 1984. ss Pistole, Pictorial History, 250. BOOK REVIEWS

Free Trade and Sailors' Rights: A Bibliography of the Wa r of 18/2, comp. by John C. Fredriksen (Westport, Ct.: Greenwood Press, 1985. Pp. xii, 399, appendices, index. $45.00).

The War of 1812 has been overshadowed by other American wars: the Revolution, the War with Mexico, and the Civil War, as well as by the great contemporary conflict then raging in Europe. Moreover, the results were none too substantial. No great battles were fought; strategy on both sides was less than brilliant; and mismanagement rampant. Even so, when the war ended, the United States had emerged from conflict with what then was the world's greatest military power with some credit, and more importantly, the shortcomings in its military establishment, so clearly revealed during the course of the hostilities, had been at least partly remedied. Especially on land, new manuals and regulations superseded the antiquated methods introduced by Steuben and in turn provided the basis for military tactics and practices employed during the Mexican and much of the Civil War. On land, the author correctly concludes, the war provided the "rationale for a genuine and effective military establishment, one that could function within the constraints of American political culture." At the same time, on the naval side, it was the appearance of the heavily armed and armored Demologos, rather than the romanticized frigate duels, that heralded the thrust of American technology and perhaps its preoccupation with high-technology solutions to problems, milita ry and social. Even so, until now there has not existed a comprehensive bibliography of this war, but this comprehensive compilation, over 6,000 entries, has filled this gap in exemplary fashion and is likely to become the standard reference work not only for military, but also for political, diplomatic, and economic developments. The entries are organized in thirteen chapters, each dealing with a regional, military, naval, or political aspect of the war. Internally, the chapters are further subdivided into geographical headings, mostly by state, with a complete chronological listing of battles, combats, skirmishes, sieges, and ships. At the end of each chapter there is a comprehensive list of writings on the notable personalities of the region. All subject headings are provid�d with cross-references to relevant manuscript collections and repositories in the United States and Canada, while appendices list contemporary newspapers, the service records of all British, Canadian, and American regiments. engaged, and a chronology of the war at land and sea. In short, this is an exemplary bibliography, comprehensive, well organized, easy to use, with a fine introduction and useful appendices, covering both printed and manuscript materials. It fi lls an important lacuna in historical writing and constitutes a most useful, indeed almost indispensable, aid to anyone doing research in this period of American history. It is most highly recommended to all scholars and should be on the shelves of any library concerned with American history. Both the author and the publisher have earned the gratitude of the historical community.

GER

33 34 INDIANA MILITARY HISTORY JOURNAL

No Picnic: No. 3 Commando Brigade in the South Atlantic 1982, by Julian Thompson (New York: Hippocrene Books, 1985. 20 1 pp. Illustrations, plates, maps, index. $24.95).

Brigadier (now Major General) Julian Thompson, the commander of the reinforced 3 Commando Brigade during the operations mounted by Great Britain to recover the Argentine occupied Falkland Islands in 1982, has written a clear, readable, and lively account. The campaign to recover the Falklands had three phases - getting there, la nding, and reaching Port Stanley. Brigadier Thompson was charged with the last two objectives, and his account is primarily the story of his command . But there is more. To set the stage, he also provides an excellent introduction to the organization and the mechanics of modern amphibious opera­ tions, which is especially valuable to lay readers. No. 3 Commando Brigade was just the right unit to secure a beachhead on East Falkland to commence land operations. Although virtually plucked from maneuvers in Norway, hastily equipped to war scale, and reinforced to war strength by the 2nd and 3rd Parachute Battalions, two squadrons of light tanks, and some specialist anti-aircraft and engineering troops, the majority of the men were hard-trained Royal Marines. Once again the old adage that hard training saves lives was proven, especially since the parachute battalions had the same type of training, which provided for a high level of endurance under the most adverse winter conditions in the South Atl�mtic. It was their capability to move and fight under such conditions which surprised and demoralized the numerically superior Argentine garrison and which ultimately led to the collapse of Argentine resistance. Of course, the quality of sailors and airmen, operating under equally hard conditions, and in the face of ga llant and determined efforts by the well-equipped Argentine airforce to cut the British logistic support system at sea, also played an important part. Perhaps the most interesting parts of Thompson's story deal with the initial landing and the tough night battles for the decisive high ground west of Port Stanley, the main Argentine garrison. Thompson makes it clear that he carried out the costly Goose Bay operation reluctantly and under orders. However, he ad mits that he was wrong not to authorize 2 Para to use the light tanks, Scorpions and Scimitars, which could have made a great diffe rence and reduced casualties. Overall, No. 3 Commando Brigade's operations were characterized by sound planning, aggressive patrolling (which soon gave the British the upper hand in morale), and the bold improvisations made necessa ry by the logistic restraints. He correctly emphasizes the dogged courage of all ranks, the indispensable part played by the all too fe w helicopters, and the vital role of the few guns brought into action. Together with the support of the naval forces, and helped by excellent SAS and SRS reconnaissance, it was high morale, supe rb training, good leadership, and teamwork that gained the victory over numbers and heavier material. The lessons should be ca refully studied by Americans who, in the last fe w decades, seem to have lost much of their capabilities for carrying out operations without a great logistic support appa ratusand without the commitment of a great number of troops. A comparison between the British operations in the East Falklands and the U.S. operations on Grenada provides sobering food for thought. Altogethe r, here is a firsthand account of the actions of a small formation, provided by the man in the best position to know, and it is most highly recommended. The more than eighty photographs, including twelve pages of color, do much to enhance this excellent book. GER BOOK REVIEW 35

Command in War, by Martin van Creveld. (Boston: Harvard University Press, 1985. 339 pp. Bibliography, index. $17.95).

Professor Martin va n Creveld, a prolific and highly respected writer on military affairs, teaches at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. He has written extensively on military history, strategy, logistics, and leadership, and his latest work deals with the organization of command from the earliest times to the present. II is main theme is that command is best exercised by a commander in personal touch with his troops who is able to observe the battle. In the moderner a, dispersion and the size of forces have prevented commanders from exercising this sort of command , so that most systems are designed to overcome the limits imposed by size of forces, dispersion, distance from the battle, and poor communications. Van Creveld describes in some detail the command systems of Napoleon, Moltke (the elder), l laig at the Somme compared with Ludendorff during the German spring offensive of 1918, the Israelis in 1967 and in 1973, and finally the U.S. in Vietnam. His descriptions arc not only interesting historically, but one can also draw some very pointed lessons from them. The author suggests that too close control by higher commanders stifles initiative and that the setting of maximum objectives may be dangerous. He argues for a wide delegation of command to lower levels, so that the commanders who make the immediate decisions are those in closest touch with the battle. He points out that close control, especially in the modem era, generates a flood of information, much of it misleading, to the higher commander, distorting his grasp of the actual situation. If the commander sets rea listic minimum objectives and frees subordinates to go further, great results cah be achieved. Of course, many of these ideas are not new but stem from Moltke's concept of Auft ragstaktik, the German mission tactics so successful in two world wars. Creveld concedes that the higher commander needs to know what is happening and outlines what he calls the commander's "directed telescope," an information system which provides the high command with comba� intelligence but frees subordinates from having to report in constant and formal detail. He cites Napoleon's use of high ranking liaison officers and the similar method followed by Montgomery as examples. This book challenges many current command theories, including those prevalent in the U.S. Army which hold that tight control from the top is essential to success in.. war, and he gives examples, Vietnam being but one, where it has prevented substantial successes. This is a fascinating book, using some not always familiar aspects of famous campaigns to make an important point. The author includes an extensive bibliography and a good index, and the book is recommended to serious students of military command . GER

' '" "'·