Books in Brief

The Maurauders, by Charlton Ogburn Jr. (Harper, $4.50). “Thriller” is a word usually applied to mysteries—undeservedly, often as not—but it is the appropriate adjective for this account of Merrill’s Marauders. Little-known, and, in the over-all action of World War II, of small importance, the campaign in Burma was nevertheless second to none in grueling hardships, danger and death. Numbering less than 3,000 to begin with, Merrill’s all-volunteer (for “a dangerous and hazardous mission”) force endured five months of almost constant combat inside enemy territory, battling not only the Japs but also the enormous difficulties of jungle, disease, and mismanagement by General Stilwell’s headquarters. (Worst of all was the never-ending uncertainty of what might be around the next bend in the trail, and it is that feeling which Mr. Ogburn, who fought through it all, manages to convey so vividly.) Recruited originally for a one-shot, three-month penetration of northern Burma, Stilwell employed the Marauders, his only American infantry, as a spearhead for an entire campaign, pushing them until, with the bitter and exhausted survivors near mutiny, the unit literally disintegrated. Even then the much-deserved praise never came, and the force was ignominiously disbanded. If this tale is a tribute to American guts, it is also a serious blot on our command record. J. p. mcfadden

Common Sense and Nuclear Warfare, by Bertrand Russell (Simon & Schuster, $2.50). Lord Russell professes reverence for suffering humanity, but in truth he holds the species of man in utter contempt. Witness the fact that in the last fourteen years of open contest between Communism and the West—encompassing mass enslavement and killing on a scale previously beyond imagination—he has been unable to determine which side is at fault. Rating the issues of freedom and slavery as “unimportant,” he tells us that the great thing is to concentrate on the interest that all nations have in common: to survive. While this appeal is couched in terms of compassion for mankind, it stems from feelings of exactly the opposite sort. At one point Lord Russell refers to his fellow humans as “the animated lumps that disgrace a certain planet.” Precisely because he believes men to be “animated lumps,” he assumes that they can have no goals transcending biological persistence. He finds moral death by Communism preferable to physical death by combat because he believes man to have no moral dimension. m. s. evans

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The Maurauders, by Charlton Ogburn Jr. (Harper, $4.50). “Thriller” is a word usually applied to mysteries—undeservedly, often as not—but it is the appropriate adjective for this account of Merrill’s Marauders. Little-known, and, in the over-all action of World War II, of small importance, the campaign in Burma was nevertheless second to none in grueling hardships, danger and death. Numbering less than 3,000 to begin with, Merrill’s all-volunteer (for “a dangerous and hazardous mission”) force endured five months of almost constant combat inside enemy territory, battling not only the Japs but also the enormous difficulties of jungle, disease, and mismanagement by General Stilwell’s headquarters. (Worst of all was the never-ending uncertainty of what might be around the next bend in the trail, and it is that feeling which Mr. Ogburn, who fought through it all, manages to convey so vividly.) Recruited originally for a one-shot, three-month penetration of northern Burma, Stilwell employed the Marauders, his only American infantry, as a spearhead for an entire campaign, pushing them until, with the bitter and exhausted survivors near mutiny, the unit literally disintegrated. Even then the much-deserved praise never came, and the force was ignominiously disbanded. If this tale is a tribute to American guts, it is also a serious blot on our command record. J. p. mcfadden

Common Sense and Nuclear Warfare, by Bertrand Russell (Simon & Schuster, $2.50). Lord Russell professes reverence for suffering humanity, but in truth he holds the species of man in utter contempt. Witness the fact that in the last fourteen years of open contest between Communism and the West—encompassing mass enslavement and killing on a scale previously beyond imagination—he has been unable to determine which side is at fault. Rating the issues of freedom and slavery as “unimportant,” he tells us that the great thing is to concentrate on the interest that all nations have in common: to survive. While this appeal is couched in terms of compassion for mankind, it stems from feelings of exactly the opposite sort. At one point Lord Russell refers to his fellow humans as “the animated lumps that disgrace a certain planet.” Precisely because he believes men to be “animated lumps,” he assumes that they can have no goals transcending biological persistence. He finds moral death by Communism preferable to physical death by combat because he believes man to have no moral dimension. m. s. evans