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Books > Social sciences > Warfare & defence > War & defence operations > Battles & campaigns
The Battle of Peach Tree Creek marked the beginning of the end for
the Confederacy, for it turned the page from the patient defence
displayed by General Joseph E. Johnston to the bold offense called
upon by his replacement, General John Bell Hood. Until this point
in the campaign, the Confederates had fought primarily in the
defensive from behind earthworks, forcing Federal commander William
T. Sherman to either assault fortified lines, or go around them in
flanking moves. At Peach Tree Creek, the roles would be reversed
for the first time, as Southerners charged Yankee lines. The Gate
City, as Atlanta has been called, was in many ways the capstone to
the Confederacy's growing military-industrial complex and was the
transportation hub of the fledgling nation. For the South it had to
be held. For the North it had to be taken. With General Johnston
removed for failing to parry the Yankee thrust into Georgia, the
fate of Atlanta and the Confederacy now rested on the shoulders of
thirty-three-year-old Hood, whose body had been torn by the war.
Peach Tree Creek was the first of three battles in eight days in
which Hood led the Confederate Army to desperate, but unsuccessful,
attempts to repel the Federals encircling Atlanta. This particular
battle started the South on a downward spiral from which she would
never recover. After Peach Tree Creek and its companion battles for
Atlanta, the clear-hearing Southerner could hear the death throes
of the Confederacy. It was the first nail in the coffin of Atlanta
and Dixie.
In a gripping, moment-by-moment narrative based on a wealth of
recently declassified documents and in-depth interviews, Bob Drury
and Tom Clavin tell the remarkable drama that unfolded over the
final, heroic hours of the Vietnam War. This closing chapter of the
war would become the largest-scale evacuation ever carried out, as
improvised by a small unit of Marines, a vast fleet of helicopter
pilots flying nonstop missions beyond regulation, and a Marine
general who vowed to arrest any officer who ordered his choppers
grounded while his men were still on the ground.
Drury and Clavin focus on the story of the eleven young Marines who
were the last men to leave, rescued from the U.S. Embassy roof just
moments before capture, having voted to make an Alamo-like last
stand. As politicians in Washington struggled to put the best face
on disaster and the American ambassador refused to acknowledge that
the end had come, these courageous men held their ground and helped
save thousands of lives. Drury and Clavin deliver a taut and
stirring account of a turning point in American history that
unfolds with the heartstopping urgency of the best thrillers--a
riveting true story finally told, in full, by those who lived it.
The First World War has often suffered from comparison to the
Second, in terms of both public interest and the significance
ascribed to it by scholars in the shaping of modern Britain. This
is especially so for the relationship between the Left and these
two wars. For the Left, the Second World War can be seen as a time
of triumph: a united stand against fascism followed by a landslide
election win and a radical, reforming Labour government. The First
World War is more complex. Given the gratuitous cost in lives, the
failure of a 'fit country for heroes to live in' to materialise,
the deep recessions and unemployment of the inter-war years, and
the botched peace settlements which served only to precipitate
another war, the Left has tended to view the conflict as an
unmitigated disaster and unpardonable waste. This has led to a
tendency on the Left to see the later conflict as the 'good' war,
fought against an obvious evil, and the earlier conflict as an
imperialist blunder; the result of backroom scheming, secret pacts
and a thirst for colonies. This book hopes to move away from a
concentration on machinations at the elite levels of the labour
movement, on events inside Parliament and intellectual
developments; there is a focus on less well-visited material.
The SS Mendi is a wreck site off the Isle of Wight under the
protection of Historic England. Nearly 650 men, mostly from the
South African Native Labour Corps (SANLC), lost their lives in
February 1917 following a collision in fog as they travelled to
serve as labourers on the Western Front, in one of the largest
single losses of life during the conflict. The loss of theSS Mendi
occupies a special place in South African military history.
Prevented from being trained as fighting troops by their own
Government, the men of the SANLC hoped that their contribution to
the war effort would lead to greater civil rights and economic
opportunities in the new white-ruled nation of South African after
the war. These hopes proved unfounded, and the SS Mendi became a
focus of black resistance before and during the Apartheid era in
South Africa. One hundred years on, the wreck of the SS Mendi is a
physical symbol of black South Africans' long fight for social and
political justice and equality and is one of a very select group of
historic shipwrecks from which contemporary political and social
meaning can be drawn, and whose loss has rippled forward in time to
influence later events; a loss that is now an important part of the
story of a new 'rainbow nation'. The wreck of the SS Mendi is now
recognised as one of England's most important First World War
heritage assets and the wreck site is listed under the Protection
of Military Remains Act. New archaeological investigation has
provided real and direct information about the wreck for the first
time. The loss of the Mendi is used to highlight the story of the
SANLC and other labour corps as well as the wider treatment of
British imperial subjects in wartime.
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