In this exciting and revealing book, scores of British soldiers tell their amazing stories of life and death in the front line of the Allies' advance from Normandy to Hitler's Germany. In eleven months of bitter fighting between D-Day and VE Day the combined efforts of the British and their allies' armed forces ground down their ruthless enemy in the pursuit of victory. Each and every man has a unique story to tell, whether they were infantry, tank crews, gunners, sappers or in vital logistic and supporting units. Theirexperiences make for powerful and fascinating reading. First-hand accounts of the landings, liberation of towns and villages, fierce actions, not all successful, bring home to the reader the cost of war as well as the magnitude of the venture. Particularly evocative is the range of emotions that were experienced by those involved, be they generals or the most junior soldiers. The passage of time means that many of these 'voices' will be heard no more but fortunately Marching to the Sound of Gunfire captures their inspiring testimonies for posterity.

In this delightful book, scores of British soldiers tell their amazing stories of life - and death - in the front line of the Allies' advance from Normandy to Hitler's Germany. In eleven months of bitter fighting the combined efforts of the British and their allies ground down their ruthless enemy. Each and every man has a unique story to tell, whether they were infantry, tank crews, gunners, sappers or in vital logistic and supporting units. Their experiences make for powerful and fascinating reading. Firsthand accounts of the landings, liberation of towns and villages, fierce actions, not all successful, the cost of war in life and material being home the magnitude of the venture and the range of emotions that were experienced by generals and the most junior soldiers.

The defeat of George Armstrong Custer and the Seventh Cavalry at the Battle of the Little Bighorn was big news in 1876. Newspaper coverage of the battle initiated hot debates about whether the U.S. government should change its policy toward American Indians and who was to blame for the army’s loss—the latter, an argument that ignites passion to this day. In Shooting Arrows and Slinging Mud, James E. Mueller draws on exhaustive research of period newspapers to explore press coverage of the famous battle. As he analyzes a wide range of accounts—some grim, some circumspect, some even laced with humor—Mueller offers a unique take on the dramatic events that so shook the American public. Among the many myths surrounding the Little Bighorn is that journalists of that time were incompetent hacks who, in response to the stunning news of Custer’s defeat, called for bloodthirsty revenge against the Indians and portrayed the “boy general” as a glamorous hero who had suffered a martyr’s death. Mueller argues otherwise, explaining that the journalists of 1876 were not uniformly biased against the Indians, and they did a credible job of describing the battle. They reported facts as they knew them, wrote thoughtful editorials, and asked important questions. Although not without their biases, journalists reporting on the Battle of the Little Bighorn cannot be credited—or faulted—for creating the legend of Custer’s Last Stand. Indeed, as Mueller reveals, after the initial burst of attention, these journalists quickly moved on to other stories of their day. It would be art and popular culture—biographies, paintings, Wild West shows, novels, and movies—that would forever embed the Last Stand in the American psyche.

The true story of a forty-eight-hour showdown and the desperate gamble that prevented the Desert Fox from reaching the Suez Canal—and beyond. Biographer Sir John Wheeler-Bennett once wrote, “The actual turning of the tide in the Second World War may be accurately determined as the first week of July 1942.” This book argues that the time may be even more exact: about 2100 hours on July 2, 1942, when Erwin Rommel’s tanks withdrew for the first time since the fall of Tobruk on June 20, or, arguably, January 14 at El Agheila. At dusk the day before, Rommel had broken through the center of the British defenses at El Alamein. His tanks had overwhelmed the gallant defense of the 18th Indian Infantry Brigade in Deir el Shein at the foot of the Ruweisat Ridge. At that moment, and for the next twelve hours, there was no further organized defense between the spearhead of the Afrika Korps and Alexandria. Throughout the next day, only a handful of men and guns stood between Rommel and his prize. In Cairo, black clouds of smoke from burning files showed that many people believed Rommel would not stop short of the Suez Canal, his stated objective. But on July 3, Rommel called off his attack and ordered his troops to dig in where they stood. The Delta was saved. Just a few weeks earlier, the 18th Indian Infantry Brigade, which took the brunt of the initial attack, and the guns of the small column known as Robcol that stopped Rommel, had been in northern Iraq. Gen. Auchinleck’s desperate measure, pulling them 1,500 miles from Iraq into the western desert, succeeded—but if Robcol had failed, it is doubtful that Rommel would have stopped at the canal; it does not require much imagination to see his forces threatening to link up with Barbarossa in the Ukraine. This vivid account of the battle of Ruweisat Ridge, the beginning of the battle of Alamein, was written by an officer who was part of Robcol on that fateful day.

This unique dual biography chronicles the WWII experiences of two US airmen, one of whom was captured by Nazis, while the other bombed Germany. In February 1945, the Allies launched Operation Thunderclap, a series of maximum efforts against cities in eastern Germany. These deep-penetration raids would tax the bomber crews immensely, as well as bring new devastation to cities yet untouched by US airpower. Meanwhile, the Nazis attempted to move all their prisoners beyond the reach of the Soviet Army’s advancing spearheads, forcing thousands of Allied POWs on a five-hundred-mile, three-month trek that would come to be known as the Black March. Two B-17 crew members, a copilot and gunner, trained together in Gulfport, MS, and, in Fall 1944, were assigned to the longest-serving and most decorated US bomb group in England. However, their paths then diverged. The copilot flew thirty-one missions until the war’s end; the gunner was shot down and captured on his very first combat mission. These crew members both lived—one through Thunderclap and one through the Black March—and this is their story: an account of both constant air combat and travail on the ground. The copilot participated in the bombing of Dresden, where he witnessed a city already too far destroyed to expend additional bombs. The gunner survived the March, and once time was up for Germany, experienced a period in Soviet captivity. This unique book on the Allied air campaign offers new insights into what our fliers truly saw and experienced during the war.

The US Armys fighting experience from the Civil Wars end in 1865 until the Western Frontiers end in 1890 has come to be known as the Indian Wars period. Previous conflicts had been limited to skirmishes with native tribes as their people were pushed westward into yet unwanted territory. Following the 1849 gold rush, travel routes and settlement pockets had increased across the trans-Mississippi regions as ever-greater numbers of Euro-Americans quested for land (and gold), enlarging the conflict between incompatible ways of life. As settlers and adventurers besieged tribesmen, some chose guerrilla warfare, characterized by skirmishes, raids, massacres, battles, and campaigns of varying intensities that ranged over plains, mountains, and deserts of the vast American West. Because the armys responsibilities involved great distances, limited resources, and extended operations (often impeded by governmental policies), its punitive actions suffered. From revolutionary times, the new United States held anti-standing-army sentiments believing that the Indian problem can be settled by nonmilitary means. Hence, the postCivil War army dropped in half by the critical centennial year when the nation was shocked by the Little Big Horn catastrophe. In the previous ten years, a series of forts had been built and a command structure was organized for frontier defense around two western commands: the Division of the Missouri (containing Departments of Arkansas, Missouri, and the Platte) and the Division of the Pacific (containing Departments of California, Columbia, and the Gulf). Since the theater of war was largely uninhabited, its variations in climate and geographical features and its extreme distances were accentuated by army manpower limitations, logistical problems, and movement difficulties. In the postwar decades, few officers and soldiers had frontier and Indian-fighting experience against an unorthodox enemy. Those who had previous contacts approached their opponents with respect and were often helpful in promoting solutions to the Indian problem. Most memorable among the armys nineteenth century leaders are the names of Sherman, Sheridan, Miles, Howard, Gibbon, Sully, Cooke, Canby, and Crook. Given the central role their soldiers made in dealing with the Indians, the US Army and a few of its notable leaders made major contributions to the consolidation of the American continent.