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Edward Ellsberg - The World War II Chronicles: Under the Red Sea Sun, The Far Shore, and No Banners, No Bugles

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A navy admirals firsthand accounts of three triumphant operations in Europe and North Africa during World War II.
After the attack on Pearl Harbor, naval engineering genius Edward Ellsberg came out of retirement to serve his country once again. In these three riveting histories, he recounts the incredible salvage missions and audacious battle plans he took part in during the Second World War.
Under the Red Sea Sun: In 1942, Mussolinis forces were on the run in East Africa. At Massawa, Eritrea, the fleeing Italians left the largest mass wreck in the world, turning a vital port into a tangle of shattered ships and dangerous booby traps. In order to continue the war effort and push back the Axis powers in Africa, the Allies enlisted Commander Ellsberg, who navigated the complicated American and British bureaucracies to pull off a historic feat of engineeringthe largest of its kind the world had ever seen.
The Far Shore: Rear Admiral Ellsberg describes in detail the meticulous preparation and efforts behind the Normandy Invasionefforts that would keep the flow of men and materials streaming onto the beaches and into the heart of Europe. From dealing with the extremes of engineering possibilities to wrestling with the knowledge that countless lives depended on the success of his intricate planning, Ellsberg worked himself into exhaustion to do his part. Vividly described by a man who saw firsthand the horrors of war and the cost of victory, The Far Shore takes readers through the brutal surf, onto the bloody beaches, and into the mind of one of World War IIs little-known heroes.
No Banners, No Bugles: In Oran, Algeria, a crucial port city, Ellsberg helped the Allies prepare for Operation Torch, the fight to reclaim North Africa from the Axis powers. As General Eisenhowers chief of salvage in the Mediterranean, Ellsberg had to sort out the disorganized mess left by the Vichy French and find a way to open the harbor, though his flagging health proved to be a dangerous obstacle. No Banners, No Bugles is the riveting story of how Ellsberg, the miracle worker, tackled his greatest mission yet.

Edward Ellsberg: author's other books


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The World War II Chronicles
Under the Red Sea Sun, The Far Shore, and No Banners, No Bugles
Rear Admiral Edward Ellsberg
CONTENTS Under the Red Sea Sun To MY WIFE whose love and faith and - photo 6
CONTENTS
Under the Red Sea Sun To MY WIFE whose love and faith and whose - photo 7
Under the Red Sea Sun To MY WIFE whose love and faith and whose constant letters reflecting that - photo 8
To
MY WIFE
whose love and faith, and whose constant letters reflecting that love and faith, were all that kept me going in the Red Sea
PREFACE
T HIS IS THE STORY OF A FEW AMERICANS who at a desperate time early in the war were by their country thrown into the worst hell hole on earth, and then promptly forgotten at home. There at a strategic port on the Red Sea, they were to do what little they might to assist the British, who were hanging on by their fingernails only, to keep the war from being lost till America might disentangle herself from her peacetime follies and get ready to fight.
This is no story of high strategy, of valor on the field of battle, of thundering guns either naval or military. It is the tale of men in the war zone just behind the lines, never themselves given the satisfaction of firing a gun, who fought under and over the sea against the unseen enemy in a naval base already captured from him, to make that naval base usable again as the last spot from which the crucial war in the Mediterranean might be supported when all else was lost under Rommels attack.
This is the story only of that naval base and of the men in it. It makes no pretense of covering the record of what was achieved by others, American Army officers in the Middle East, who together with me of the Navy, all of us under the command and skillful leadership of Major General Russell Maxwell, U.S.A., fought in support of the British to help stave off defeat till our country was ready to fight offensively.
It will be observed that in this book, some Englishmen (mostly civilians) figure who failed to measure up to the high standard set by most of their countrymen in that time of crisis. Let no one jeer at Britain for this. For every such Englishman, there was one American at least in Eritrea who never saw beyond the dollar sign, his personal comfort, or his personal aggrandizement; so that the rest of us, struggling in desperation to carry through in Massawa what must be done if disaster were not to overwhelm us all, often had good cause to reflect bitterly that if these, our countrymen, had actually been in the pay of Hitler or of Mussolini, they could not have served them more effectively.
Some passages in this book may seem bitter. They probably are. Those days of 1942, save for our few brief moments of triumph, were with us always lived in bitterness and torture, and often in despair that we should ever survive to see our homes again. Some of us didnt; others came back broken men. This book is written in the spirit in which it was lived. Men stewing in the caldron that was Massawa in the summer of 1942, facing in addition the terrors of unseen enemy mines and bombs placed below the sea for our destruction, were little given to tolerant acceptance of the interferences of those others who from the cool comfort and safety of the high hills, threw monkey wrenches into the works in Massawa. Bitterly we flung them back into the teeth of those who hurled them. We werent liked for it. But I had no apologies then for our lack of calm acceptance of those interferences, and I have none now.
For the little handful of Americans (mostly civilians) who loyally and self-sacrificingly struggled and suffered at my side in a critical moment in history, I have the deepest affection and regard. I have here attempted to set down some little part of what they achieved and what they suffered. For the others (grossly overpaid) who in the luxury and cool comfort of the high hills inland in Eritrea, far above Massawa and the steaming Red Sea coast, enjoyed themselves free of all restrictions and taxes of wartime America, while they interfered with us, I had and have the utmost contempt. So had my men in Massawa.
Lest anyone be led astray, I must say here that this is a story written almost wholly from memory four years after the events set down. I kept no diary then. I had neither the time nor the energy left for one, and besides, keeping personal diaries was strictly forbidden to any of us. But my memory is good and what happened is indelibly burned into it.
A few names among hundreds of all nationalities, to my great regret, I do not now recall. To those few who are not here mentioned by name for that reason, I humbly apologize. It is further possible that some of the minor conversations attributed to one man may have taken place with another instead.
All dates have been carefully checked against such data (as would pass the censorship rules) in my letters home as might serve to date the event. I believe there are few errors there.
As regards the conversations, I make no claim that they are verbatim reports of what was said. There were no stenographers in Massawa to take them down. The more vivid statements, especially those at critical moments, made such an impression on me that till I die, I shall not forget them. They are correctly set down. As regards the other conversations, they faithfully record the gist of what was said, set down here in such words as best suit the situations involved.
That this story is wholly free from errors, I cannot believe. That to others in Eritrea some things may have seemed different, is wholly natural. Their point of view was not mine.
But this is the story of those days, of that place, and of the men (and a few women) of many nationalities as seen through the eyes of the American Commanding Officer who lived himself through every minute of it and was in as good a position to observe as anybody, and far better able, on the spot, to judge than those who were not.
A final word concerning the title of the author. The title Commander is here used on this book because every other book he has written has appeared under that title, first conferred on him by special act of Congress in recognition of earlier service to the Navy. The author fought through the late war in three separate campaigns overseas as a Captain, U.S.N.R.
E DWARD E LLSBERG
CHAPTER
T HE NIGHT OF DECEMBER 7, 1941, I was on a train bound for Washington. Early next morning found me camping on the doorstep of the Navy Department, seeking to be re-enrolled in the Navy for active service.
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