Whatever battles like Okinawa did to thousands of servicemen, it surely taught them that there are many in the world who do not like the United States and seek to use their wealth and power to kill as many Americans as they can; thus it was no surprise that throughout the national debate over the proper response to September 11, crusty veterans were neither shrill in their bloodlust nor apologetic pacifists, but rather reminded younger generations that they had seen it all before and unfortunately knew precisely what to do and how it must end.
Other than the distant bombing and hundred-hour ground war in the Gulf during a few days in 1991, and isolated actions in Grenada, Panama, Somalia, Bosnia, and Kosovo, we have been mostly at peace from real organized killing for thirty years and so have forgotten in a brief generation that since the birth of civilization entire worlds have changed, both abruptly and insidiously, in minutes—once thousands fall to the fire and explosions unleashed by others. Americans are startled at pronouncements that “nothing is the same after 9/11,” dumbfounded that their own comfortable and relatively predictable worlds are now changed—and will continue to be different—for years to come. But if history demonstrates that Lexington and Concord, Fort Sumter, and Pearl Harbor all turned America into a different nation in a matter of minutes, why should we now be any less immune from the far greater bloodletting on September 11? If our understanding of Greek tragedy, art, philosophy, politics, and war were changed by a relatively obscure battle at Delium, why would not the destruction of the World Trade Center and the bombing of the Pentagon not similarly alter American culture? The Athenian fifth century was ushered in by the defeat of Xerxes—but only after the destruction of the first Parthenon, the desolation of Athens itself, the Persian effort to destroy or absorb Hellenic civilization, and the miraculous Greek counterresponse at Salamis.
Millions of the anonymous have had their lives altered in ways we cannot grasp for centuries, as a single battle—with all its youth, confined space, and dreadful killing—insidiously warps the memory of the friends and families of the fallen, twists the thoughts and aspirations of the veterans of the ordeal, and abruptly ends the accomplishments of the dead. In that sense the ripples of battle are also immune from and care little for what people write and read, in or outside the dominant West. They simply wash up on us all as we speak and in ways that cannot fully be known until centuries after we are gone.
Bibliography
1. The Wages of Suicide
Recipe for a Holocaust
There are especially fine official histories of Okinawa, written by prominent American historians. See first R. Appleman, J. M. Burns, R. A. Gugeler, and J. Stevens, Okinawa: The Last Battle (Rutland, Vt., and Tokyo, 1960). Its appendices contain most of the statistics on troops committed and lost at the battle; cf. 322–23 for accounts of the 29th Marines on Sugar Loaf Hill; 58 for the Japanese suicides; and 473–74 for final judgments.
See also the official history of the U.S. Marine Corps on Okinawa, by C. S. Nichols and H. I. Shaw, Okinawa: Victory in the Pacific (Washington, D.C., 1955), 180–83 for Company F on Sugar Loaf Hill and its environs. And cf. especially P. Carleton, The Conquest of Okinawa: An Account of the Sixth Marine Division (Washington, D.C., 1947); and K. Stockman, The Sixth Marine Division on Okinawa (Washington, D.C., 1946).
An interesting account of the Japanese defenses on Okinawa is offered by Col. Hiromichi Yahara, who was in great part responsible for the effective tactics of attrition and rugged defense rather than open counterassaults: H. Yahara, The Battle for Okinawa (translated by R. Pineau and M. Uehara), New York, 1995; cf. 143 for his thoughts of the suicide of Japanese soldiers, and 200 for Frank Gibney’s appraisals of the civilian suicides.
For Okinawa as “The England of the Pacific,” see J. H. Alexander, The Final Campaign: Marines in the Victory on Okinawa (Washington, D.C., 1996), 2; and cf. 33 for the suicides at the Asa River. See also B. M. Frank, Okinawa: Capstone to Victory (New York, 1970), 20–21 for a discussion of the nature of the Japanese defenses; and T. M. Huber, Japan’s Battle of Okinawa, April–June 1945 (Leavenworth, Kans., 1990), 38, 65 for Japanese impressions of the nearly impassable terrain on the island, and the Americans’ lack of imagination in circumventing the Japanese defenses. In general, there are revealing oral histories in G. Astor, Operation Iceberg: The Invasion and Conquest of Okinawa in World War II (New York, 1995).
Divine Wind
On the ideology of the Japanese suicide bombers, see R. Leckie, Okinawa: The Last Battle of World War II (New York, 1995). For the skill of American sailors in fighting the kamikazes, and their attitude about the use of suicide bombers, see too, A. Lott, Brave Ship, Brave Men (Annapolis, Md., 1986), especially 164–74.
There is a growing literature on the kamikazes, both American accounts and memoirs of Japanese veterans who survived the squadrons; oddly, American rather than Japanese histories are more apt to praise the bravery, rather than condemn the fanaticism, of the pilots. For a narrative of the special squadrons of both kamikaze and Okha pilots from the Japanese perspective, see H. Naito, Thunder Gods: The Kamikaze Pilots Tell Their Story (New York, 1989). For Tojo’s code of ethics, see 20; and for dissension and fright among the suicide ranks, 96, 209.
See also E. Hoyt, The Kamikazes (New York, 1983); B. Millot, Divine Thunder: The Life and Death of the Kamikazes (New York, 1971), especially 229–31 for the letter of Teruo Yamaguchi. The origins of the kamikazes are discussed in depth by J. Field, The Japanese at Leyte Gulf: The Sho Operation (Princeton, 1947), and R. Inoguchi and T. Nakajima, The Divine Wind: Japan’s Kamikaze Force in World War II (Westport, Conn., 1959). For their remarks on the unique nature of the suicide corps, see xxi; Ensign Heiichi Okabe’s letter is found at 190.
R. Spurr, A Glorious Way to Die (New York, 1981), has a detailed account of the last voyage of the Yamato. Westerners, who did not embrace suicide, could write in starry-eyed tributes, “Japanese heroes gave the world a great lesson in purity. From the depth of their ancient past they brought a forgotten message of human grandeur” (Millot, Divine Thunder, 233). For the civilian experience, see R. Keyso, Women of Okinawa (Ithaca, N.Y., 2000); for the accounts of Junkyo Isa, cf. 6–7, 11–12.
The Military Lessons
For Churchill’s quote and other assessments of Okinawa’s importance, see I. Gow, Okinawa 1945: Gateway to Japan (New York, 1985), 213–15. George Feifer’s Tennozan: The Battle of Okinawa and the Atomic Bomb (New York, 1992) has an incisive analysis of the connection between Okinawa and Hiroshima; cf. 583–84; for the remarks of Thomas Hannaher, cf. 544. See also P. Fussell, Thank God for the Atomic Bomb and Other Essays (New York, 1988), who points out that those who were removed from the frontline fighting—in both time and space—were most likely to oppose use of the bomb; in contrast, the relieved veterans of the Pacific fighting knew the carnage that lay ahead on the Japanese mainland.
Epilogue: The Men of Okinawa
For details about Ernie Pyle’s death and his writing during the war, see J. Tobin, Ernie Pyle’s War: America’s Witness to World War II (New York, 1997); and for his earlier work, cf. D. Nichols, Ernie’s America (New York, 1989). The American Marine experience on the island is brilliantly recorded by two excellent memoirs: E. B. Sledge, With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa (Novato, Calif., 1981), cf. 253, 314–15 for his memories of the fighting; W. Manchester, Goodbye Darkness: A Memoir of the Pacific War (Boston, 1979), cf. 378–79. For oral histories of the struggle to take Sugar Loaf Hill, see J. H. Hallas, Killing Ground on Okinawa: The Battle for Sugar Loaf Hill (Westport, Conn., 1996), especially 43ff.
2. Shiloh’s Ghosts
Morning
For accounts of Sherman’s surprise, wounding at Shiloh, and his general bravery, consult L. Daniel, Shiloh: The Battle That Changed the Civil War (New York, 1997), 137–39, 158, 171, 177–78, 310–11; and J. McDonough, Shiloh: In Hell Before Night (Knoxville, Tenn., 1977). Sherman’s remarks to his subordinate colonel the morning before the battle are in B. Simpson and J. Berlin
, eds., Sherman’s Civil War: Selected Correspondence of William T. Sherman, 1860–1865 (Chapel Hill, N.C., 1999), 168; on his contemplated suicide, 174; on the horrid nature of Shiloh and his calmness before fire, 202; for his lectures about the nature of war during the Atlanta campaign, 706, 708. J. Marszalek, Sherman: A Soldier’s Passion for Order (New York, 1993), 186–87, quotes Sherman’s references to Shiloh at the 1881 reunion of the Army of the Tennessee.
For his candor when shot and unhorsed, see W. Sword, Shiloh: Bloody April (New York, 1974), 176; “coolest man I saw that day,” 209. Sherman’s talk with Grant after the battle is from his autobiography, W. T. Sherman, Memoirs of Gen. W. T. Sherman (New York, 1875), vol. 1, 254; and for his remarks after Shiloh, see M. A. Howe, ed., Home Letters of General Sherman (New York, 1909).
M. Fellman, Citizen Sherman (Lawrence, Kans., 1995), 113–48, discusses the psychological implications of Sherman’s amazing turnaround after Shiloh, and quotes from Sherman’s letters concerning suicide and shame. On Grant’s plans on the night of the sixth, see U. S. Grant, Personal Memoirs of U.S. Grant (New York, 1885), vol. 1, 346–50. For an excellent appraisal of Sherman’s overall conduct at Shiloh, see L. Lewis, Sherman: Fighting Prophet (New York, 1932), 219–31, where Sherman’s famous quotes during the first minutes of the battle are reviewed (cf. 222–23 for his confident banter with Grant’s aide-de-camp), and more recently, L. Kennett, Sherman: A Soldier’s Life (New York, 2001).
In general, for Sherman’s quotes during the battle proper, consult as well J. Merrill, William Tecumseh Sherman (Chicago, 1971), 195–211, 207. B. H. Liddell-Hart, Sherman: Soldier, Realist, American (New York, 1958), 427–31, has an astute assessment of Sherman and his impact on modern war; see also V. D. Hanson, The Soul of Battle (New York, 1999), 232–60, for Sherman’s desire to avoid casualties and his legacy of waging a war of moral retribution.
Afternoon
An enormous hagiography of some third of a million words, The Life of Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston, Embracing his Services in the Armies of the United States, the Republic of Texas, and the Confederate States (New York, 1879), written by his oldest son, William Preston Johnston, is a storehouse of nearly everything written and spoken by Johnston over a forty-year period—and includes nearly every positive remark recorded about him as well. For General Johnston’s words in the moments before his death, see 614–15; his aphorisms during the fighting are quoted at 563–64; 566; 584–85; 612. For the assessments of General Bragg and other Confederate generals, see 549; 553; 632–33; 635–36. Jefferson Davis’s eulogies are found at 658; 730–32. Quotes taken from the Southern Historical Society, 732; the proclamation of the Texas Legislature, 696; various descriptions of Johnston’s appearance, 726–28. William Preston Johnston also wrote a description of his father’s record at Shiloh, “Albert Sidney Johnston at Shiloh,” in C. Buel and R. Johnson, eds., Battles and Leaders of the Civil War, 4 vols. (New York, 1956), vol. 1, 540–68. See 556 for his remarks moments before the firing began.
There is an excellent biography of Johnston that seeks balanced assessment through additional primary research, which nevertheless comes to a similarly positive assessment of his war record. See Charles P. Roland, Albert Sidney Johnston: Soldier of Three Republics (Austin, Tex., 1964), 347 for the judgment of Richard Taylor, and 336–46 for Johnston’s last recorded moments and postmortem appraisals of his character and record.
There is an appendix devoted to the circumstances surrounding Johnston’s death in W. Sword, Shiloh: Bloody April (New York, 1974), 443–46; and see 446 for Sword’s conclusion that Johnston’s death was central to the loss of Confederate hope.
The bibliography of the Lost Cause is enormous and begins with E. A. Pollard, The Lost Cause: A New Southern History of the War of the Confederates (New York, 1866), especially 241, and 729 for the importance of Shiloh and the general belief of Southern moral superiority. There are a number of excellent contemporary essays in P. Gerster and N. Cords, eds., Myth and Southern History, Volume 1: The Old South (Urbana, Ill., 1989), and G. W. Gallagher and A. T. Nolan, eds., The Myth of the Lost Cause and Civil War History (Bloomington, Ind., 2000). Cf. also more generally, C. Vann Woodward, The Burden of Southern History (Baton Rouge, 1960); T. Connelly and B. Bellows, God and General Longstreet: The Lost Cause and the Southern Mind (Baton Rouge, 1982).
Grant has a number of astute observations about Shiloh and the Lost Opportunity as well as a rather harsh assessment of Johnston; see especially his U. S. Grant, Personal Memoirs of U.S. Grant (New York, 1885), vol. 1, 359–65.
Evening
The final chapters of Lew Wallace’s massive An Autobiography, 2 vols. (New York, 1906) were completed by his wife, Susan Wallace, after the general’s death in 1905; the account nevertheless devotes an inordinate amount to his Civil War experiences (420 of its 1,003 pages)—Shiloh in particular: Cf. his remarks after Donelson (373–433), his lengthy description of the battle of Shiloh (459–570), and the controversy over the Shunpike route (462–73). Prominent too in his recollections are his later exchanges with Grant, during and after the battle (463, 544, 566, 807–10), and with Sherman (662–66)—and his explanations for writing Ben-Hur, along with the favorable reactions of Grant, Sherman, Garfield, and others to his literary accomplishments (889, 926–37, 938, 947–56).
The direct relationship between the shame of Shiloh and Wallace’s fiction is outlined well by I. McKee, “Ben-Hur” Wallace: The Life of General Lew Wallace (Berkeley, 1947), 166–67; 189, 206, 216; 232–34; 264–65. For the amazing sales figures about the book, the popularity of the play, and the controversies over the various movie versions, cf. 164–881; and for the snub of the literati to Wallace’s fiction, 227. Although Wallace’s literary career is the main focus of R. and K. Morsberger’s magisterial Lew Wallace: Militant Romantic (New York, 1980), there is a very sympathetic narrative of the general at Shiloh, 70–102, in addition to an exhaustive discussion of the four movie versions of Ben-Hur, the amazing success of the play, and a history of the book’s sales, 447–96. For the “Garfield edition” of Ben-Hur, see Lew Wallace, Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ (New York, 1892). Quotes from the novel are taken from D. Mayer (editor), Lew Wallace, Ben-Hur (Oxford, 1998), 136, 406–7, which has an insightful introduction to the text.
General Buell’s support for Wallace and attack on Grant and Sherman is found in the first volume of the 1956 edition of C. Buel and R. Johnson, eds., Battles and Leaders of the Civil War, 4 vols. (New York, 1956), vol. 1, 487–536, together with a much more detailed response from Grant that shows little sympathy for Wallace’s late arrival (465–86). For Grant’s famous footnote and later correction of long-standing criticism against Wallace, see 468. In the same volume Wallace gives an account of Grant’s victory at Donelson, with his own leadership figuring (too) prominently (398–428). See U. S. Grant, Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant (New York, 1885), vol. 1, 337–38, and 351–52, for both criticism of Wallace and his retraction. At least in the immediate aftermath of the battle, Sherman was especially sympathetic to Wallace’s dilemma; cf. B. Simpson and J. Berlin, eds., Sherman’s Civil War: Selected Correspondence of William T. Sherman, 1860–1865 (Chapel Hill, N.C., 1999), 526–28.
In general accounts of Shiloh, Wallace’s march looms large with wide-ranging critique: outright criticism for the delay and Wallace’s timidity on Shiloh’s second day, in L. Daniel, Shiloh: The Battle That Changed the Civil War (New York, 1997), 257–59, 285, 291; sympathy for Wallace and criticism of Grant in J. McDonough, Shiloh: In Hell Before Night (Knoxville, Tenn., 1977), 156–61; neutral without assessment of blame, W. Sword, Shiloh: Bloody April (New York, 1974), 345–54.
Night
Two recent and mostly favorable biographies of Nathan Bedford Forrest draw on a number of nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century hagiographies published at least a half century earlier: Cf. B. S. Wills, A Battle from the Start: The Life of Nathan Bedford Forrest (New York, 1992) for quotes about Forrest’s decision to go home after Lee’s armistice,
316; his admission of his general hatred of the North, 334; his inflammatory speech to the Brownsville crowd, 349; and advice to Judge Blackford, 362. See also J. Hurst, Nathan Bedford Forrest: A Biography (New York, 1993) for Lee and the Klan, 286–87; the murder of George Ashburn in Georgia, 295; Forrest’s controversial interview with the Cincinnati Commercial, 312–13; his misleading congressional testimony, 339–44. Cf. Hurst’s assessment of Forrest after Shiloh: “To him, everything always had depended on final triumph, not on the gentlemanly gamesmanship so many affected in seeking it. Like all the frontier fights he had made, this was not a game. It was a struggle for no less than survival—this time, not only individually but collectively and nationally. After Shiloh, he seemed to begin to wage war more nearly the way he had lived the rest of his life: not only single-mindedly, but confident in his own counsel and following his own rules.”
The oral tradition surrounding Forrest’s exploits was collected by T. Jordan and J. P. Pryor, The Campaigns of General Nathan Bedford Forrest and of Forrest’s Cavalry (with a fine new introduction by Albert Castel) (New York, 1996); both were Confederate veterans (Jordan was also a roommate of W. T. Sherman at West Point), and there is, not surprisingly, little in either account about Fort Pillow, Forrest’s Klan activity, or his purported shooting and dueling. See also the new edition of the classic by J. A. Wyeth, That Devil Forrest: Life of General Nathan Bedford Forrest (with a new foreword by Albert Castel; Baton Rouge, 1989), that has a good account of Forrest at Shiloh (64–65). See also J. H. Mathes, General Forrest (New York, 1902), and R. S. Henry, “First with the Mostest” Forrest (New York, 1944). There are fascinating essays about Forrest by Gen. Viscount Wolseley, who argued that Forrest was among the most astute generals of any time, as well as other Confederate veterans in R. S. Henry, ed., As They Saw Forrest: Some Recollections and Comments of Contemporaries (Jackson, Tenn., 1956).
Ripples of Battle Page 32
