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Republican candidate Richard M. Nixon’s promise during the 1968 presidential election campaign to extricate the United States from the Vietnam War, combined with the loss of American domestic political support resulting from the January 1968 Tet Offensive, saw a fundamental change to how the war was conducted. The United States began a process of withdrawing their own combat forces and placing the burden for future combat operations on ARVN formations. While the Australian Government was aware of this change in policy, it was not actively included in American political deliberations and hence was unable to take an active position in the face of Vietnamisation. Left with no detailed guidance on the intended timelines for American withdrawal, the Australian Government could provide no direction to Army on the level of future commitment to the war, other than to reinforce the existing rhetoric that participation in the conflict remained vital for Australian national interests. In this policy vacuum, Army leadership concentrated on the military aspects of the war, with the CGS Exercises of both 1967 and 1968 exploring the implications of increasing the size of the force deployed to South Vietnam.
On 29 April 1965 the Australian Government announced the commitment of an Australian battalion to South Vietnam. Prior to the public announcement, discussions had taken place in Hawaii as to the nature of any future commitment in Vietnam. The staff talks, held early May to late April, were between the American Commander-in-Chief Pacific Command, Admiral U.S.G. Sharp Jr, an Australian delegation led by Air Chief Marshal Sir Frederick Scherger, and a New Zealand delegation headed by the Chief of the New Zealand Defence Staff, Admiral Sir Peter Phipps. The participants discussed broad American strategy and possible options as to where any future Australian and New Zealand forces could be deployed within the overall American design. Sharp strongly supported the concept of American forces being deployed in enclaves. He believed that the mere existence of American forces within these enclaves would deprive the North Vietnamese Government of an opportunity for victory and thus encourage them to begin negotiations. If the Australians and New Zealanders did deploy in an enclave, the Americans would provide all combat support capabilities (armour, artillery and air support) as well as the necessary logistic support.
At the Australia, New Zealand and the United States (ANZUS) security treaty council meeting in May 1962, the US Secretary of State asked the Australian Minister for External Affairs for a contribution of instructors to help the US training mission in South Vietnam. This approach was hardly a surprise to the Australian Government, as the US State Department had made similar approaches for military support to the Australian Embassy in Washington, DC in November and December of 1961. After some negotiation on the nature and conditions of the Australian commitment, on 24 May 1962 the Minister for Defence, A.G. Townley, announced that Australia was to deploy up to 30 military instructors to Vietnam.
In 1968 the dual operational requirements to conduct counterinsurgency and main force operations simultaneously also challenged the way 1ALSG provided logistic support to 1ATF. In 1966, HQ AFV and 1ALSG had constructed a logistic system to provide support to 1ATF centred on a static base at Nui Dat, with 1ATF conducting operations within Phuoc Tuy province. However, the events of the impending VC Tet Offensive in January to February 1968 would bring a radical change in how 1ATF operated, requiring 1ALSG to provide support not only to Nui Dat but also to a series of air-mobile operations and associated fire support bases (FSBs) established outside the province.
The announcement by Prime Minster Holt on 8 March 1966 to send a task force to South Vietnam represented an expansion of the policy associated with the initial deployment of the battalion group. While 1RAR was making an Australian contribution to the conflict, the small size of the force meant it had operational and political limitations. A battalion was too small to conduct operations independently from an American parent unit, reducing its operational flexibility and the political effect of the Australian involvement. Increasing the size of the Australian commitment to a task force would enable Australian forces to exercise their own operational doctrine. It would also placate some criticism that under American leadership 1RAR was suffering a disproportionate number of casualties compared to the American battalions – even if such criticism was unwarranted. Politically, a task force would mark a substantial Australian contribution to the war and thus further reinforce the Australian commitment to ANZUS.
The geography of South Vietnam posed particular challenges for the conduct of any military campaign. Dominated by a mountain chain that runs from the China–Vietnam border to just north of Saigon, the landscape comprises dense jungle in the highland areas flanked by a coastal strip on the South China Sea. South of Saigon, the Mekong Delta combines with the Mekong River to form a vast alluvial plain. The climate is either hot and wet or hot and dry, these conditions respectively producing excessive mud or debilitating dust. The climate also created tropical diseases in endemic and epidemic proportions, adversely affecting the health and efficiency of troops in the field and making medical treatment challenging since it was difficult to ‘preserve and maintain medical supplies and sophisticated medical equipment’.
In early 1967 the new commander of 1ATF, Brigadier Stuart C. Graham (succeeding Brigadier Jackson), planned and conducted a ‘classical’ counterinsurgency campaign. His focus on intensive patrolling, intelligence gathering, enemy logistics, political infrastructure, and the need to separate the civilian population from the influence of the VC were all elements germane to the British Army’s campaign during the Malayan Emergency. Graham emphasised the political and psychological nature of counterinsurgency warfare as opposed to the American approach of kill ratios and body counts, which he considered to be misguided. By the end of Graham’s tenure in October 1967, he believed that VC forces had either been forced out of Phuoc Tuy province or confined to their sanctuaries at the margins of the province.
The Australian Government’s involvement in South Vietnam was undertaken as a war of choice, driven by the desire to maintain the ANZUS alliance and keep America engaged in the defence of South-East Asia. While Menzies justified the Australian deployment in South Vietnam as responding to a direct threat to Australia from China, there was no Australian military assessment to support such an assertion. Since Australian national sovereignty was not at risk, the conflict did not require the significant economic and manpower commitments typically associated with the Second World War. Indeed, keeping the Australian commitment to the Vietnam War limited was the primary and recurrent aim of government policy. For defence planners and politicians alike, there was little other guidance, as the conflict suffered from a clear lack of aims in both Washington, DC and Canberra.
In 1962 the Australian Government deployed Australian military forces in support of the Republic of Vietnam. Before the cessation of combat operations and complete withdrawal in 1972, this commitment would escalate from an initial advisory team, to a battalion group, to a three-battalion task force with supporting armour, cavalry, aviation, artillery and associated logistics elements.After the war in Afghanistan, this would be the Australian Army’s second-longest conflict, lasting almost 11 years and surpassing the previous longest Australian commitment which was to the Malayan Emergency (1955 to 1963).
In 1962, the Australian Government deployed Australian military forces in support of the Republic of Vietnam. Supporting the Commitment: Australian Army Logistics in South Vietnam, 1962–1973 investigates how the Australian Army structured its logistics to support its operations in Vietnam. This book examines how the Australian Army interacted with the US Army's logistic framework to secure its own logistic support for the training team, the battalion group and then the task force. Particular attention is given to the logistic units which supported these deployments, including the raising, siting and operations of the 1st Australian Logistic Support Company (1ALSC) and the 1st Australian Logistic Support Group (1ALSG). Acknowledging that the Australian Army's involvement in South Vietnam was a war of choice, the book explores how Army's institutional attitudes towards logistics influenced the nature of support provided.
This article considers the history of Emergency Health Kits established by United Nations agencies and the larger medical non-governmental organizations of the 1980s to analyse the significance of standardized responses in humanitarian emergencies. We argue that, far from being a rigid and immutable response, the kits reflected a (not universally realized) desire to standardize and control both supplies and medical care from international organizations. As such, humanitarian medical practice remained a disputed field in which each object or drug was negotiated at the risk of creating innovation traps. Coming at a time of increasingly global logistics capacities, the Emergency Health Kits became a central feature of a more coordinated global marketplace of humanitarian aid. The kits’ promise to provide rapid transport of emergency supplies to crisis settings across the world was often experienced as a construct, with long delays and logjams in certain regions. Even so, humanitarian organizations were agents of globalization because they imagined a system of centralized production in the Global North and supply to isolated and/or insecure locations across the world.
Chapter 6 follows Scott’s army through 1847 during its advance toward Mexico City. It considers how the army sought to pacify the Mexican people by paying for what it took and explains the (sometimes violent) consequences for Mexican women. Although women made a vast array of choices in response to the US invasion, from seizing economic opportunities to armed resistance, regulars insisted that women welcomed them – an interpretation that still predominates in military histories. This misconception had strategic benefits. To the extent that army protection of women was real, martial law and army money maintained sufficient order to allow US forces to secure foodstuffs and supplies to continue military operations. To the extent that protection was rhetorical, the army used its claims of legitimacy to make levies on occupied areas (and women), fund operations, and harshly punish those who threatened military interests. The US Army found both strategies, the real and the rhetorical, critical to its invasion of Mexico.
This chapter examines the planning of the German invasion of the Soviet Union. It sketches Hitler’s long-term economic and ideological motives for seeking to conquer the country, before examining the strategic considerations that determined the invasion’s particular timing in June 1941. Wehrmacht planners’ confidence was boosted by intelligence assessments that overlooked the less-than-overwhelming superiority of the German armed forces and underestimated Soviet military and economic potential. It was also boosted by their identification with the invasion’s ideological goals. Thus were the Panzer divisions and their air support, on which success depended more than anything else, committed to too many targets simultaneously, and the risk grew of a lengthy war in which superior Soviet resources would be increasingly likely to prevail. The chapter also sketches the peripheral roles played by Germany’s Axis allies in the invasion and the under-strength forces that the planners of Barbarossa would commit to rear area security. This underpowered occupation force would be compelled to cooperate closely with the SS and police in its efforts to control the occupied territories. This relationship, together with the Wehrmacht’s own ideological proclivities and harsh perception of military necessity, would help precipitate its deep involvement in Nazi crimes in the East.
The German army invaded the Soviet Union in hopes of destroying it in a blitz campaign in 1941. Its professional and experienced officer corps utilized Auftragstaktik to achieve early victories on the battlefield. The men they led were well-motivated, generally well-trained, loyal to the Nazi regime, and confident in victory. The emphasis on tactical flexibility and independence helped balance out the army’s numerical inferiority in weapons and equipment. The enormous casualties suffered in 1941 and early 1942, however, ensured that the army’s qualitative edge soon dulled, leading to complete defeat.
This chapter describes German and Soviet strategies for the year 1942 and covers operations from May 1942 to March 1943. These includes the Soviet offensive towards Kharkiv, German preliminary operations such as the conquering of Sevastopol and the Kerch peninsula, but also operations on other sections of the Eastern Front like Soviet offensives against Rzhev and the German operation ‘Whirlwind’. However, the focus is on the German summer offensive and the Battle of Stalingrad. By linking these events to the operations along the eastern front as well as decisions and events outside the eastern theatre, the chapter argues that Germany’s failure in 1942 was a consequence of Allied superiority in men and material, but also of a German leadership that underestimated Soviet warfare capabilities. The German command wanted to achieve too many objectives with too few resources in too short a period of time. This failure was part of a larger turn of the tide in the war, that finally led to the Axis defeat.
This article redefines the concept of the Achaemenid ‘Royal’ Road using GIS-based route modelling to reconstruct possible roads between Susa and Persepolis. By integrating logistical and environmental parameters, it shows how royal mobility required a specialised infrastructure—distinct from ancillary roads—tailored to the operational scale of the Achaemenid court.
This chapter reconsiders the road novel, not as a genre of Americanness and the frontier West, but rather as the privileged genre of US hegemony. Specifically, the chapter argues that the road novel does important work in critically mapping the expanding and shifting commodity frontiers of US hegemony, but through the lens and ideologies of automobility and what Matthew Huber has identified as the petro-driven ‘American way of life.’ To illustrate these claims, “Oil, Commodity Frontiers and the Materials of the Road Novel” offers a brief survey of three emblematic road novels that emerged during crucial moments of capitalist transition within the arc of US hegemony: Jack Kerouac’s paradigmatic western road novel, On the Road (1956) and the petroization of American life, Iva Pekárková’s post-socialist transition road novel, Truck Stop Rainbows (1989), and Samantha Schweblin’s neo-developmentalist soya-frontier road novel, Fever Dreams (2017). Taken together, the chapter reads the road novel as following the arc of US hegemony.
Two common myths shape thinking about shipping and oceans. First, ships transport nearly everything we consume. Second, we live on planet ocean, not planet earth. Although each claim is, in one sense, correct, each is also misleading. Ships transport 80-90% of international trade (by weight), they transport only 10.8% of the economy's material footprint. Although the ocean covers 71% of the planet's surface, it makes up only 0.12% of its volume. This article queries these widely accepted numbers. Not to ‘correct’ them but to highlight the need to question the common myths that all too often guide environmental intervention.
Technical summary
Ships transport 90% of everything. The planet is 71% ocean. Environmentalists reference these statistics when they advocate ‘buying local’ to reduce shipping's environmental footprint. The shipping industry references them to argue that the industry is ‘too big to fail’ and therefore should not be overly burdened by environmental regulations; furthermore, shipping's emissions are said to be ‘too small to matter,’ considering the role the industry plays in enabling globalised consumer capitalism. Yet, this article shows that ships transport only about 10.8% of everything (by material footprint) and the planet is only 0.12% ocean (by volume). This suggests that we should employ the 90% and 71% figures with caution. Evidence demonstrates that environmental policy derived from crude quantification of an industry's significance can have unintended, and at times unwanted, consequences for the world's economy and, crucially, the planet's environment. Although we do not question the global significance of either the ocean or maritime transport, we argue that for appeals to size and scale to be useful in generating ocean consciousness and guiding policy interventions they need to be questioned every time they are invoked.
Social media summary
Ships transport 80-90% of international trade, but only 11% of the economy's material footprint. This wide gap urges us to rethink common myths about the economy and the environment.
Fictional junctions developed in parallel complexity to passenger junctions on the rails in the 1860s and 1870s as multiplot novels expanded into series. Chapter 3 examines Dickens’s co-authored collection, Mugby Junction (1866), and Anthony Trollope’s Palliser Novels (1864–1879), alongside traffic management systems operating on railways of the period. This chapter provides a cohesive reading of Mugby Junction, a collection whose significance to railway culture is usually determined with reference only to Dickens’s contributions. The chapter examines how form complements content in Mugby Junction, as each short story in the collection examines a different branch or main line. Anthony Trollope, by contrast, offers relatively little direct contemplation of the railway aside from a memorable scene set at Tenway Junction, but he uses railway logistics to manage his plot lines. What emerges from this long-form multiplot work is Trollope’s tendency to re-run certain narrative configurations over the course of the series (love triangles, politics, finance), with very minor adjustments. Through this, we can begin to understand how even the most apparently rigid systems change over time.
China's war against Japan was, at its heart, a struggle for food. As the Nationalists, Chinese Communist Party, and Japanese vied for a dwindling pool of sustenance, grain emerged as the lynchpin of their strategies for a long-term war effort. In the first in-depth examination of how the Nationalists fed their armies, Jennifer Yip demonstrates how the Chinese government relied on mass civilian mobilization to carry out all stages of provisioning, from procurement to transportation and storage. The intensive use of civilian labor and assets–a distinctly preindustrial resource base– shaped China's own conception of its total war effort, and distinguished China's experience as unique among World War Two combatants. Yip challenges the predominant image of World War II as one of technological prowess, and the tendency to conflate total war with industrialized warfare. Ultimately, China sustained total war against the odds with premodern means: by ruthlessly extracting civilian resources.