John C. McManus, September Hope: The American Side of a Bridge Too Far (2012) — a book review

© 2016 Peter Free

01 June 2016

 

Admirably suited to “it was like I was there” tastes in military history — but perhaps not to others

John McManus’ September Hope (NAL Caliber, 2012) looks at the American contribution to Operation Market Garden, Field MarshallBernard Montgomery‘s failed bid to take the Rhine crossing at Arnhem in September 1944.

This World War II effort was most famously documented in Cornelius Ryan’s 1974 book A Bridge too Far. A film based on the book followed in 1977.

Author McManus focuses almost exclusively on the paratroop efforts of the American 82nd and 101st Airborne divisions. Detail is so exquisitely presented that readers lose sight of the larger tactical and strategic pictures. Which may be a strength in that the soldiers on the ground had no overview, either.

 

Writing extracts — strength in detail

McManus seamlessly cobbles soldiers’ accounts together. The result is a comprehensive narrative of what being boots on the ground was like. For example in reference to entering Nijmegen, Netherlands:

 

“We went into the city cold,” Sergeant Spencer Wurst, a squad leader in F Company, recalled.

“We were absolutely ignorant. We had no information whatsoever on the situation.” In his case, he had not even seen a map of the city. Nor did he know anything about the bridge defenses.

“We were going into urban street fighting . . . with no idea as to the size or layout of the streets.”

© 2012 John C. McManus, September Hope: The American Side of a Bridge Too Far (NAL Caliber, 2012) (at page 247) (paragraph split)

 

And after crossing the Waal River:

 

There was no order, no rationality, no plan to the assault. It amounted to small groups of desperate men fighting for sheer survival.

A twenty-millimeter round laced into the torso of Lieutenant John Dodd, one of the key officers leading the attack. The lieutenant had a gaping hole in his side. He collapsed on the ground. A medic, with tears welling up in his eyes, could see that he was beyond any hope. He took out a morphine ampule and injected it into Dodd’s leg.

Sergeant Vernon Francisco was so enraged by the impending death of his lieutenant that he stood in the open, pitching grenades at the enemy crew until he either killed them or drove them away. Nearby, Private Wayne Galvin had no sooner taken in the sight of that angry sergeant than a mortar shell exploded a few yards away.

“My left wrist was shattered,” he said. “I also was hit in the left thigh.” He hobbled around and kept fighting until the leg collapsed.

A mortar shell burst right above Private Harold Peterman, showering him with deadly fragments. He fell down and died on Oranjesingel, the wide avenue that led to the roundabout.

© 2012 John C. McManus, September Hope: The American Side of a Bridge Too Far (NAL Caliber, 2012) (at page 295) (paragraph split)

 

Most of the book is like this. And often even more graphic.

 

Author’s historical analysis

McManus makes it clear that he faults the supreme European commander, Dwight Eisenhower, for giving in to supporting Field Marshall Montgomery’s overly ambitious one-prong sweep into Germany.

The author’s criticism is sound. With the Scheldt River estuary still in German hands, it was impossible to supply a military thrust of the kind that Monty envisioned. Eisenhower had to sap the forces necessary to seize control of the estuary just to mount Operation Market Garden.

My own view is that Eisenhower’s genius at integrating coalition egotists into a workable military whole had its downside. He was not a highly competent combat leader and strategist. On the other hand, without General Eisenhower, there may well have been so little Allied cooperation that stalemate or defeat might easily have loomed. The more I read about Ike, the more I respect him. Especially so, given our current Age of Narcissism and its detrimental effect on teamwork.

 

On leadership

McManus admires the then 82nd Airborne commander, General James M. Gavin. Gavin insisted on being at the front, so that he could keep current with what was going on and inspire his men. McManus emphasizes examples of similar qualities in lower-ranking combat commanders.

The book is a worthy read for aspiring military leaders.

 

Highly recommended — with one caveat

This is not a book for people who are predominantly interested in chronologically explained tactics and strategy. The fog of war envelops most of its troop-focused text. Like the American paratroopers portrayed, readers have little idea what was happening more widely around them.

For example, there is an instance in which American troops criticized laggard British tankers for failing to press on, when speed was arguably critical. This occurred immediately after the Americans’ deadly Waal River crossing.

Based on McManus’ text, the American criticism appears to have clout. But the author does not provide snippets of British thinking that might have more favorably argued their side of the tactical situation.

In sum, September Hope gives as good a glimpse of Market Garden combat as someone not there (or ever in combat) might wish. On the other hand, it is not a good source for understanding the overall operation. McManus, who clearly admires Cornelius Ryan’s epic book, did not intend it to be. That said, the Notes section of McManus’ book is impressive in its depth. Historians working the same period will have to read through these. That, in itself, is a historiographic achievement of noticeable merit.

I was impressed with this book and its author.