Works about Ike, Doolittle offer informative reads

President Dwight D. Eisenhower

I recently completed reading two engaging books — a biography and an autobiography — that I enjoyed and wish to offer a few comments about them.

The first was a biography about President Dwight David Eisenhower, and the second was autobiography produced by General James “Jimmy” Doolittle. 

Jean Edward Smith’s “Eisenhower in War and Peace” (Random House, 2012) is a thorough work about Ike, and a fine addition to the body of work about his service as supreme allied commander in Europe during World War II and his terms as President. 

Smith offers a good account of Eisenhower’s early years and devotes a large portion of the book to Eisenhower’s military career, particularly his years directing the war in Europe. Students of World War II history will find the time spent with this section of the book rewarding.

I particularly enjoyed Smith’s work on Eisenhower as president. Smith presents a principled political and world leader deeply involved in the key decisions of his administration, despite serious health problems. 

General histories of the 1950s and ‘60s typically portray Eisenhower as a pleasant but benignly neglectful president, particularly when compared to the younger, more energetic John Kennedy. Smith’s work compels the reader to question such a simplistic view of Eisenhower and asserts that Eisenhower was as successful as any recent American president, but far less dramatic than most. It is a valuable point.

General James "Jimmy' Doolittle

Doolittle’s “I Could Never Be So Lucky Again” (Bantam Books) was published in 1991 and was sitting on my bookshelf for many years. I started reading it as I was nearing the completion of the Eisenhower biography. I can’t explain what led me to pick it up now, after neglecting it for many years. That was my loss. I learned much about Doolittle, including details of his formative years in Alaska, where he was raised as a boy. 

Doolittle spends a fair amount of time recounting his legendary raid on Tokyo and other Japanese cities in April of 1942, and it’s fascinating stuff. He also commits a good portion of his book to his years as commander of America’s Eighth Air Force, leading the bombing campaign against Nazi Germany. Much of this was new material to me, although I have read other books about the allied air offensive in Europe. 

An interesting item of candor from Doolittle is his inclusion of the poor relations he shared with Eisenhower, his overall commander in the European Theater.  He attributes the poor relations to professional disagreements, but acknowledges that many believed they were rooted in a personal dispute.

I don’t often comment about books, but I can endorse these two, even to readers who do not have a deep interest in either World War II or presidential politics. 

— Thank you for reading my posts. I welcome your comments. You may submit them here, or you can reach by email at kbotterman@gmail.com.

Reflecting on some St. Louis memories

I just returned from an annual trip to St. Louis, where I attended the 2013 Missouri Valley Conference Men's Basketball Tournament.

My brother, Mark, has access to a suite at the stadium where the tournament is conducted, and he has hosted friends and family in the suite for more than 20 years. I have attended the MVC tournament since 1996, missing only a tournament or two along the way.

Many things have changed in our MVC weekends over the years. During the first 10 years, the weekends were one long party that continued for two, sometimes three days. They consisted of over indulgence in food and alcohol, and included hangovers strong enough to last three days.

The attendees in those days included some regulars — two more of my brothers, a brother in-law, and friends of Mark, our host. Participants also included an assortment of one-time guests — the rowdy, the tame, and the pleasant but forgettable. The rowdies are the ones I remember, the personalties so odd and outrageous that they live on in my memories even though I met them only once.

The tournament weekends are different for us today. We don’t drink as much as we once did. We’re not as loud and crude as we once were, and many of the rowdies have drifted away. During recent years, most of nights have ended early enough for us to be home and asleep by 11 p.m. Some of this tame behavior can be attributed to the natural slowing that accompanies age and the passing of time, but I know there is more involved more than this.

The 2008 tournament marks the demarcation point when our trips to St. Louis evolved from journeys through Arch Madness to pilgrimages heavy with memories that are both happy and sad.

At about 3 p.m. on March 10, 2008, my brother, Patrick, died unexpectedly at the age of 44, struck down by a massive heart attack, one day after returning from the MVC tournament, which he had attended with me, Mark and Mike, another brother. Patrick's death was a devastating shock to my family and his many friends and associates. His death also had a lasting impact on our MVC tournament weekends

Mark scaled back the number of participants beginning with the 2009 tournament, inviting only those who attended the full slate of games in 2008 — Mike, me and three of Mark’s friends. The tight guest list continues today, but a few others, including my wife, have made guest appearances.

This year's tournament ended on March 10, the fifth anniversary of Patrick's death. Mike, Mark and I spent nearly three days together during the weekend, but there was no mention of the anniversary and little mention of Patrick at all. I was aware of this, and I am sure my brothers were, too. I think Patrick’s death remains too painful for us to discuss.

I also became aware of something else during a post-dinner conversation Saturday night, following completion of the semifinal round of games. Mike, Mark and I were in a pub, sharing stories from previous tournament weekends. It occurred to me that all the stories we were sharing involved experiences from tournaments before 2008. We shared no wild stories from the weekends of the last five years, because there were none to offer. It was as though we had subconsciously laid to rest that quality of our MVC weekends after we lost Patrick.

The tone is more subdued today and the nights out are shorter, but I still enjoy the annual pilgrimage of the MVC tournament weekends. I enjoy watching the games with the crew that continues to attend, and I cherish the time spent with Mike and Mark. 

I have good memories from each of the last five MVC weekends. They reflect a new chapter in my life, a chapter that is different from the preceding ones. I think that’s the way life is when we grow and move forward with it.