“Servants of Evil”, by Simon Trew

320 pages, Carlton Publishing Group, ISBN-13: 978-1842222379

Say, did you know that Servants of Evil by Simon Trew was, in fact, a companion book to a series broadcast on the BBC? Me neither. So, anyway, seeing as History is written by the victors, it should come as no surprise that they should also be put in charge of recounting the memories of the losers; this book consists of German soldiers, pilots and submariners’ first-hand accounts interspersed in a summarized recounting of WWII in the Atlantic, the Balkans, Russia and Western Europe. Overall, this book is illuminating, shedding light as it does on the Other Side on these men and boys who were serving their country in what seemed to be a great adventure that, eventually, turned into a miserable struggle merely to survive. With that in mind it makes sense to evenly split the book in two, with one half representing the period of German military success and the other representing Germany’s decline and fall; each half is further separated by an unusually large segment of pictures that depict many of the “voices” accounted for throughout the book; thus, the air of confidence that exudes in the victorious years is replaced with misery and fear after the tide of war turns against Germany.

But all of these voices are rather muted, in my opinion, as are all void of representing any sort of hardline political perspective or Nazi ideals, even though many of the men and boys speaking here were active participants in the Hitler Youth prior to military service. The accounts represented are centered on a sense of chivalrous duty to Germany and void of any Nazi-indoctrinated hate toward the enemy, as if the participants were all just patriots fighting for their country, right or wrong, the same as the men and boys in the Allied ranks. There are a multitude of references that attempt to humanize the German soldier – such as the Luftwaffe fighter pilot rationalizing that his goal was to destroy the plane, not the pilot or crew – and so there are really no “servants of evil” in the book, only ordinary soldiers following orders. Some readers may wonder if there are additional stories these men are less willing to tell. This is a disservice, I believe, for although the ranks of the Wehrmacht, Luftwaffe and Kriegsmarine were not the sole domain of the Nazis, the Nazis were represented throughout, and to deny that their ideology did not filter down through the ranks is disingenuous, at best.

Aside from some rather poor editing, and the less-than-obvious contrast between the narration and the first-hand accounts, Servants of Evil does add to one’s overall sense of World War II as seen through German eyes, humanizing an otherwise inhuman enemy.

“Knight: The Medieval Warrior’s (Unofficial) Manual”, by Michael Prestwich

 

208 pages, Thames & Hudson, ISBN-13: 978-0500251607

Knight: The Medieval Warrior’s (Unofficial) Manual by Michael Prestwich is another one of these fake owner’s manuals, much like Legionary: The Roman Soldier’s (Unofficial) Manual by Philip Matyszak (reviewed on March 6, 2012). Just like that other book, this one is a very quick read that covers a lot: the knight’s habits, gear, rules of engagement and so on. However, the book is basically centered on the 14^th Century, so one of the greatest knights in medieval history, William Marshall, isn’t even mentioned here, although three other legends of the period – Geoffroi de Charny, Sir John Hawkwood and Jean iI Le Maingre, also known as “Boucicaut” – are detailed. Much on display throughout is Prestwich’s dry wit and the occasional little knowing nods, like claiming that the Swiss aren’t interested in money and likely never will be, or that the English Order of the Garter is a rather silly order and don’t bother joining it because it probably won’t be around for long, or else telling his readers to avoid the medical help of the medieval proctologist who wrote a medical treatise entitled De Fistula in Anu. There’s even a section on Ladies and Damsels that has more of Prestwich’s gentle humor on display; to summarize, Prestwich suggests finding a sensible damsel to adore, who won’t hold you to ridiculous (and dangerous) oaths – like going into battle wearing an eyepatch over one eye, for instance. Want some more advice? Okay: “Have as little to do with peasants as possible”; “Do not crusade against Mamluks or Turks” (they fight too well); and “Get knighted on the battlefield: it’s much simpler that way”. Another excellent one-volume reference to this period, full of humor and interesting details – even if it hasn’t quite the scope or humor of Legionary – this (Unofficial) Manual is what it is: a lighthearted look at a legendary era that looks far better from a distance than close up.

“Constantine: Roman Emperor, Christian Victor”, by Paul Stephenson

 

352 pages, Harry N. Abrams, ISBN-13: 978-1590203248

Mr. Stephenson, the author of Constantine: Roman Emperor, Christian Victor, would appear to be a competent historian who certainly knows a great deal about Roman civilization, but while he may think that “[t]his work…is as much a story as a history”, that statement would seem to have been intended more for his peers, rather than for the public at large, for from a casual reader’s perspective Constantine comes across as more of a straight-up history than as the “story” of Flavius Valerius Aurelius Constantinus Augustus, the Emperor Constantine I (or “the Great”, if you like). For, although (as the author says) there are no notes in the narrative, that narrative – the “story” so called – is routinely sidetracked by detailed descriptions and in-depth analyses of ancient monuments, which contrast what the historians of the day would have us believe and what the inscriptions on the monuments tell us. Furthermore, those looking for a general historical biography will be disappointed, as will those looking for a military history or narrative account of Constantine’s life, as Stephenson has written an admittedly fascinating scholarly examination of the Emperor’s imperial ideology.

He meticulously examines artifacts, murals, sculptures in great (at times, too great) detail to describe how Constantine projected his power and wanted to appear to the masses; there is a great discussion of various religions competing with Christianity, the ideology of the imperial cult and how Constantine co-opted existing pagan symbolism and iconography into his new Christian religion in an attempt to unify the empire (it really is fascinating to see the author describe how many of the holidays Christians take for granted were co-opted from the pagans and reused and recycled, all with the intention of converting the pagan hordes). What we get, then, is contrary to the traditional tale of Constantine, that the historian Eusebius described as a vision Constantine had while marching at midday in which “he saw with his own eyes in the heavens and a trophy of the cross arising from the light of the sun, carrying the message, In Hoc Signo Vinces” (in this sign you will conquer). The implication, rather, is that Constantine didn’t experience this epiphany, suddenly convert to Christianity and make Christianity the official religion of Rome; but, as Stephenson indicates, he was gradually converted to Christianity over a period of many years.

As to why Constantine did so, perhaps the old saw “If You Can’t Beat ‘em, Join ‘em” applies best: if you cannot destroy an organization and its belief system, then why not join that organization and take control of it; then, once you have assumed this control, one can always pervert the initial teachings and insert his or her own people into the hierarchical structure of the organization and destroy the ideas and beliefs from within. This is what many argue was done to Christianity. So if you want to learn a bit about Constantine and about how the Roman Empire made the transition from pagan to Christian, you will certainly learn a lot by reading this book…but you’ll also learn a lot more about Roman history and about the Roman Empire’s monuments than you will about the Christian Emperor who, near the end of his life, termed himself Victor Constantine.

“Hitler: An Illustrated Life”, by Robin Cross

 

224 pages, Quercus, 978-1848660205

Yeah, another one; let’s get this over with…one of these days I may just have to write my own biography of Adolf, seeing as what big business it is (hell, how many books have I read and reviewed on the sombitch?) Anyway, Hitler: An Illustrated Life by Robin Cross is only from 2009, proving that the market for books on Der Führer is alive and well. Cross’ book can best be described as a practicable alternative to the dauntingly massive treatises many people don’t have the time or inclination to devote to a decidedly unsavory personage. At a slim 224 pages, Cross has sacrificed depth of exposition in the name of brevity: at times all one gets as background information for the event being discussed is a brief sentence or two, supporting characters pop in and out of the narrative as needed, with little consideration given to the logical continuity of their existence in the broader scheme of things, and enhancing details are, perforce, treated lightly or simply overlooked, while the flow of events is sometimes a bit bumpy. That, alas, is the price to be paid for concise bios; the alternative, of course, is the thousand-plus page magnum opus, of which there are legion. An Illustrated Life is overall a worthy short biography with a very important mission: making Hitler accessible to the layperson as a fellow person, not as an unhuman demon for, sadly, the Little Corporal was all too human.