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Product: Book
ISBN-10: 1-58097-055-9
ISBN-13: 9781580970556
Publisher: Da Capo Press
Country:
Year: November 1, 2000
Size: 16.41 x 24.21 x 3.00cm
Number of pages: 312
Weight: 717gr
Binding: Hardcover
ISBN-10: 1-58097-055-9
ISBN-13: 9781580970556
Publisher: Da Capo Press
Country:
Year: November 1, 2000
Size: 16.41 x 24.21 x 3.00cm
Number of pages: 312
Weight: 717gr
Binding: Hardcover
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Product Description
Volume 4 in the West Wall series. The U.S. Army regards the Hurtgen Forest as one of the most desperate -and longest- battles it has ever fought. Flanking the key German city of Aachen, the thick evergreen forest was a formidable natural barrier made more secure with a network of concrete bunkers that made up part of the West Wall.
Volume 4 in the West Wall series. The U.S. Army regards the Hurtgen Forest as one of the most desperate -and longest- battles it has ever fought. Flanking the key German city of Aachen, the thick evergreen forest was a formidable natural barrier made more secure with a network of concrete bunkers that made up part of the West Wall.
The forest's German defenders were battle-scarred and under-strength, but their defenses were well concealed and provided with mines and wire. American infantry and combat engineers slowly fought their way forward in rain and snow, as German shells exploded. American control of the forest was not assured until December, at a cost of over 30,000 casualties.
reviews
The »Death Factory« in a dark forest 
I thought the book was well written although the maps included never seem to show the places and landmarks described in the chapter it is placed.
I thought the book was well written although the maps included never seem to show the places and landmarks described in the chapter it is placed.
I feel the author does an excellent job of communicating the conditions in which the fighting took place: the dreary, dark, forest that seemed to close in on the soldiers, the dampness and the cold, the difficult terrain of ridges and canyons.
The author also does an excellent job of explaining how personal pride and reputation led to feeding division after division, regiment after regiment into a meat grinder that made no strategic difference to the overall campaign. The book shows the complacency of allied »Top Brass« – as he continually refers to them – who thought the war was as good as won. It also shows a detachment of the generals from the guy with a rifle getting shot at every day that is appalling – Ike and the generals living it up in Paris while the average riflemen is trying to stay dry and warm in a foxhole half-filled with water.
On the other side of the fence, in spite of repeated decimation of their ranks, the Germans were still able to put up a deadly defense. One of the most important points of this book is the complete reliance by American infantry on support weapons such as artillery and air power. When those assets were missing, such as in the dense forest, American troops were less effective than the Germans who focused on tactics, unit cohesion, and individual initiative.
There are a lot of lessons for military professionals and historians in the Hurtgen Forest – and they should be learned.
This Way To The Death Factory
You can say what you want about Charles Whiting. Not a »credentialed« historian. Prejudiced against Americans. Plays fast and loose with sources and refuses to use anotate his work. Makes assertions which are demonstratably untrue. Recycles his own material like a cow chewing its cud. It's all true to some degree … but it doesn't quite tell the story, either. Whiting has produced some important and very valuable studies in his long career, and while there are decided brown spots on some of his works, he's of that rare breed of historian – in which I would include John Keegan, Stephen Ambrose, David Irving, Alan Clark, and Richard Payne – who writes history in such a manner that people actually want to read it. That is to say, he has some sense of literary aesthetics and an entertaining prose style (the majority of historians can't write to save their a**). THE BATTLE OF THE HUERTGEN FOREST is one of his best books, not only compulsively readable, but tackling a part of WW2 very few Americans know about – mainly because it was conveniently edited out of the postwar histories (including Eisenhower's entertaining exercise in selective memory, CRUSADE IN EUROPE.) And after reading Whiting's brutal saga of stupidity and slaughter, it's easy to understand why. For the record, the Huertgen is a fifty square mile triangle of primeval forest, in the border country between Belgium and Germany. In 1944 it was weakly held by the Germans, who quite rightly believed no one would be stupid enough to attack through it, much less the Americans, who had just demonstrated their mastery of mobile, open-country warfare while liberating France. Forget the fortresses of Metz or the »impregnable« Siegfried Line – the forest itself was a nearly impenetrable barrier, one which negated Allied air superiority, made wheeled movement impossible, rendered tanks almost useless, and generally favored the defender in every way. For reasons that have to do with ego, bad judgement and a kind of horrible, bureacratic momentum (a sort of throwing good blood after bad), one American division after another was nevertheless fed into what the GI's referred to starkly as»The Death Factory«, a decision which eventually cost the U.S. Army 30,000 men, and which becomes all the more appalling when one takes into account the strategically worthless nature of the forest itself. Told from both sides, Whiting's book recounts the heroic and often futile attempts by the American army to bludgeon their way through the stubborn German resistance, sparing no detail of misery that the soldiers in question had to endure: the impenetrable darkness of the nights, the mud, the freezing rain, the lice, the dank, stinking dugouts, the artillery blasts that would turn the trees into hailstorms of shrapnel, the screams of wounded or shell-shocked men, the confusion and maddening disorientation. (Whiting points out rather acidly that William Westmoreland was a regimental commander during this fighting, and seems to have learned nothing from the experience). No gruesome or heart-redning detail is spared, and the reader comes away from some of the more violent chapters feeling as if he's been clubbed over the head. While it's true that the Americans »won« the battle, finally gaining control of the forest in the spring of 1945, it's hardly the sort of victory anyone celebrates, and it's certainly not the sort of story most historians want to sell to the public. For that reason alone, I'd recommend it, if only to see the bloody mess Eisenhower left on his editing-room floor.
You can say what you want about Charles Whiting. Not a »credentialed« historian. Prejudiced against Americans. Plays fast and loose with sources and refuses to use anotate his work. Makes assertions which are demonstratably untrue. Recycles his own material like a cow chewing its cud. It's all true to some degree … but it doesn't quite tell the story, either. Whiting has produced some important and very valuable studies in his long career, and while there are decided brown spots on some of his works, he's of that rare breed of historian – in which I would include John Keegan, Stephen Ambrose, David Irving, Alan Clark, and Richard Payne – who writes history in such a manner that people actually want to read it. That is to say, he has some sense of literary aesthetics and an entertaining prose style (the majority of historians can't write to save their a**). THE BATTLE OF THE HUERTGEN FOREST is one of his best books, not only compulsively readable, but tackling a part of WW2 very few Americans know about – mainly because it was conveniently edited out of the postwar histories (including Eisenhower's entertaining exercise in selective memory, CRUSADE IN EUROPE.) And after reading Whiting's brutal saga of stupidity and slaughter, it's easy to understand why. For the record, the Huertgen is a fifty square mile triangle of primeval forest, in the border country between Belgium and Germany. In 1944 it was weakly held by the Germans, who quite rightly believed no one would be stupid enough to attack through it, much less the Americans, who had just demonstrated their mastery of mobile, open-country warfare while liberating France. Forget the fortresses of Metz or the »impregnable« Siegfried Line – the forest itself was a nearly impenetrable barrier, one which negated Allied air superiority, made wheeled movement impossible, rendered tanks almost useless, and generally favored the defender in every way. For reasons that have to do with ego, bad judgement and a kind of horrible, bureacratic momentum (a sort of throwing good blood after bad), one American division after another was nevertheless fed into what the GI's referred to starkly as»The Death Factory«, a decision which eventually cost the U.S. Army 30,000 men, and which becomes all the more appalling when one takes into account the strategically worthless nature of the forest itself. Told from both sides, Whiting's book recounts the heroic and often futile attempts by the American army to bludgeon their way through the stubborn German resistance, sparing no detail of misery that the soldiers in question had to endure: the impenetrable darkness of the nights, the mud, the freezing rain, the lice, the dank, stinking dugouts, the artillery blasts that would turn the trees into hailstorms of shrapnel, the screams of wounded or shell-shocked men, the confusion and maddening disorientation. (Whiting points out rather acidly that William Westmoreland was a regimental commander during this fighting, and seems to have learned nothing from the experience). No gruesome or heart-redning detail is spared, and the reader comes away from some of the more violent chapters feeling as if he's been clubbed over the head. While it's true that the Americans »won« the battle, finally gaining control of the forest in the spring of 1945, it's hardly the sort of victory anyone celebrates, and it's certainly not the sort of story most historians want to sell to the public. For that reason alone, I'd recommend it, if only to see the bloody mess Eisenhower left on his editing-room floor.
Good battle review, difficult to read
Mr. Whiting gives a perfect recollection of the different divsions' struggles in that (otherwise beautiful) part of Germany. I have but two remarks. The first the popular reference to the commanding officers as 'Top Brass'. If you use it too much it just gets annoying! Then there is little graphical support of the text. Small situational drawings would have done miracles here. But considering all its a good book.
Mr. Whiting gives a perfect recollection of the different divsions' struggles in that (otherwise beautiful) part of Germany. I have but two remarks. The first the popular reference to the commanding officers as 'Top Brass'. If you use it too much it just gets annoying! Then there is little graphical support of the text. Small situational drawings would have done miracles here. But considering all its a good book.
Great Personal Accounts, Suspect Leadership Analysis 
As someone who has read a decent number of books on WWII history, I found Whiting's working commendable for his inclsuion of so many personal accounts--they really helped to make the history come alive. I also appreciated his respect for the common soldier and evident respect for their sacrifice and heroism. Unfortunately, I felt the book fell short in a number of ways that damage Whiting's credibility. First of all, one gets the feeling that he feels pretty much any soldier beyond the rank of Capt is a fool, motivated only by personal ambition. In addition, he slams the character of several senior, senior flag officers with no real cited evidence. For instance, he paints Eisenhower as some sort of philandering, out of touch, comfort-seeking oaf. Second, Whiting's overall attitude makes him come off as an arrogant know-it-all Monday morning quarterback type. The kind of person you occasionally meet that acts like the answer to every difficult issue is disgustingly simple and those in charge are just complete idiots. Whether or not Whiting is this kind of person or not, I have no idea. However, his writing comes across this way. Finally, add the first two criticisms to a relatively weak bibliography and I can only conclude that it would be dangerous to put too much faith in Whiting's work. I fear Whiting may use some of the Hurtgen history as a backdrop for his own personal opinions without being honest enough to identify it as his opinion versus known fact. I cannot for a minute recommend buying the book.
As someone who has read a decent number of books on WWII history, I found Whiting's working commendable for his inclsuion of so many personal accounts--they really helped to make the history come alive. I also appreciated his respect for the common soldier and evident respect for their sacrifice and heroism. Unfortunately, I felt the book fell short in a number of ways that damage Whiting's credibility. First of all, one gets the feeling that he feels pretty much any soldier beyond the rank of Capt is a fool, motivated only by personal ambition. In addition, he slams the character of several senior, senior flag officers with no real cited evidence. For instance, he paints Eisenhower as some sort of philandering, out of touch, comfort-seeking oaf. Second, Whiting's overall attitude makes him come off as an arrogant know-it-all Monday morning quarterback type. The kind of person you occasionally meet that acts like the answer to every difficult issue is disgustingly simple and those in charge are just complete idiots. Whether or not Whiting is this kind of person or not, I have no idea. However, his writing comes across this way. Finally, add the first two criticisms to a relatively weak bibliography and I can only conclude that it would be dangerous to put too much faith in Whiting's work. I fear Whiting may use some of the Hurtgen history as a backdrop for his own personal opinions without being honest enough to identify it as his opinion versus known fact. I cannot for a minute recommend buying the book.
Supermarket Tabloid at its Worst! 
Charles Whiting's _Battle for Hurtgen Forest_ begins harmlessly enough by openly questioning the legitimacy of the Huertgen operation and describing the brutality of the fighting and the harshness of the unforgiving terrain. In spite of the hardships of life at the front, Whiting quickly describes the efforts that were made to provide some rest and recreation for the American infantrymen. Whiting tells of Red Cross club mobiles set up in the Rear where ladies would hand out doughnuts and free coffee to the tired troops. There were also United Service Organization (USO) Shows that included such celebrities as German-born actress Marlene Dietrich. From this point on, however, this informative account takes a bitter turn for the worse.»But for young men whose life expectancy in the infantry was exceedingly limited,« contends Whiting, »something else was needed – women.« The author rants on how soldiers were routinely rotated out of the line for seventy-two-hour passes to Paris. Like a writer of bad pulp fiction, the author digresses into the city's famous red-light district the Americans all too commonly referred to as »Pig Alley.« There, explains Whiting, »whores« who had serviced Germans for the previous four years were now infecting Americans by the hundreds with venereal disease. »That fall,« observes Whiting, »the United States Army sent 606 men, the equivalent of a battalion daily to the 'pox doctor.\'« Unfortunately, the author fails to cite a single source and provides no evidence for this claim.Whiting jabs that while Americans were dying in combat, carousing in Paris, or deserting by the thousands (again no citation), Supreme Allied Commander Dwight Eisenhower was living comfortably in a French Chateau. Whiting takes every opportunity to discredit anyone close to Ike, especially his British »chauffer-cum-mistress« Kaye Summersby. Similarly, he refers to General Everett S. Hughes as Ike's »card-playing, hard drinking womanizing crony« who once called a WAC [Women's Army Corps] »a double breasted GI with a built in foxhole.« Whiting, once again, fails to cite a source or give evidence for this last sexist remark.Whiting goes beyond the Huertgen time-frame into The Battle of the Bulge, not to illustrate its correlation to the Huertgen Campaign, but rather to exemplify the social gaiety at Eisenhower's Headquarters. As the author explains, while the German Panzer spearheads were roaring through the Ardennes, General Eisenhower was attending a wedding and champagne reception for two junior members of his staff. In yet another effort of tabloid journalism Whitingrecounts the delicacies being served:Eisenhower's 'darkies' as he called his black mess servants, were preparing oysters on the half shell, followed by oyster stew, with fried oysters concluding the festive pre-Christmas meal. And on-and-on!Whiting's sarcasm is evident-his message is clear, his evidence is severely lacking. Obviously, the author's purpose for writing this sensationalism is to sell books. In fairness, Whiting makes some legitimate points concerning the Huertgen Forest battles and it is safe to assume that few readers are naive enough to think that high-ranking officers did not enjoy considerable more creature comforts than the combat rifleman sweating it out in a foxhole in the Huertgen Forest. It is the sardonic style in which he chose to present this view, however, that greatly lessens his credibility as a serious historian, something the opening paragraphs of the book initially suggest. The telling of the love affairs of generals may sell books but is of little importance in the thorough analysis of a significant battle such as the Huertgen Forest. Read MacDonald, Miller, Astor, or Rush, and leave this tabloid on the supermarket check-out stand.
Charles Whiting's _Battle for Hurtgen Forest_ begins harmlessly enough by openly questioning the legitimacy of the Huertgen operation and describing the brutality of the fighting and the harshness of the unforgiving terrain. In spite of the hardships of life at the front, Whiting quickly describes the efforts that were made to provide some rest and recreation for the American infantrymen. Whiting tells of Red Cross club mobiles set up in the Rear where ladies would hand out doughnuts and free coffee to the tired troops. There were also United Service Organization (USO) Shows that included such celebrities as German-born actress Marlene Dietrich. From this point on, however, this informative account takes a bitter turn for the worse.»But for young men whose life expectancy in the infantry was exceedingly limited,« contends Whiting, »something else was needed – women.« The author rants on how soldiers were routinely rotated out of the line for seventy-two-hour passes to Paris. Like a writer of bad pulp fiction, the author digresses into the city's famous red-light district the Americans all too commonly referred to as »Pig Alley.« There, explains Whiting, »whores« who had serviced Germans for the previous four years were now infecting Americans by the hundreds with venereal disease. »That fall,« observes Whiting, »the United States Army sent 606 men, the equivalent of a battalion daily to the 'pox doctor.\'« Unfortunately, the author fails to cite a single source and provides no evidence for this claim.Whiting jabs that while Americans were dying in combat, carousing in Paris, or deserting by the thousands (again no citation), Supreme Allied Commander Dwight Eisenhower was living comfortably in a French Chateau. Whiting takes every opportunity to discredit anyone close to Ike, especially his British »chauffer-cum-mistress« Kaye Summersby. Similarly, he refers to General Everett S. Hughes as Ike's »card-playing, hard drinking womanizing crony« who once called a WAC [Women's Army Corps] »a double breasted GI with a built in foxhole.« Whiting, once again, fails to cite a source or give evidence for this last sexist remark.Whiting goes beyond the Huertgen time-frame into The Battle of the Bulge, not to illustrate its correlation to the Huertgen Campaign, but rather to exemplify the social gaiety at Eisenhower's Headquarters. As the author explains, while the German Panzer spearheads were roaring through the Ardennes, General Eisenhower was attending a wedding and champagne reception for two junior members of his staff. In yet another effort of tabloid journalism Whitingrecounts the delicacies being served:Eisenhower's 'darkies' as he called his black mess servants, were preparing oysters on the half shell, followed by oyster stew, with fried oysters concluding the festive pre-Christmas meal. And on-and-on!Whiting's sarcasm is evident-his message is clear, his evidence is severely lacking. Obviously, the author's purpose for writing this sensationalism is to sell books. In fairness, Whiting makes some legitimate points concerning the Huertgen Forest battles and it is safe to assume that few readers are naive enough to think that high-ranking officers did not enjoy considerable more creature comforts than the combat rifleman sweating it out in a foxhole in the Huertgen Forest. It is the sardonic style in which he chose to present this view, however, that greatly lessens his credibility as a serious historian, something the opening paragraphs of the book initially suggest. The telling of the love affairs of generals may sell books but is of little importance in the thorough analysis of a significant battle such as the Huertgen Forest. Read MacDonald, Miller, Astor, or Rush, and leave this tabloid on the supermarket check-out stand.
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Charles B. MacDonald
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