In 1986 I was hired by a military history think tank that specialized in the numerical analysis of battles, campaigns, and wars. The US Army had just contracted with them to help validate some of the Army's combat models--complex computer programs that tried to predict not only the outcomes of battles but the casualties, advance rates, and expenditures of fuel and ammunition that such battles would entail. This was during a "warm" period of the Cold War and there were many ideas about where the Warsaw Pact might attack NATO; the Army wanted to be as prepared to counter these moves as possible. But--and here's a question computer modelers in other branches of science might want to ask themselves these days--how do you know your models are telling you the truth, or anything close to it?
The answer in this case was to take data from historical battles, run it through the models, and compare the computer's results with the actual historical results. One of the principal possibilities for which the Army wanted to be ready was a Soviet armored thrust through the Fulda Gap of Germany, and it so happened that such an attack bore many similarities to the actual German attack into the Ardennes in December 1944, otherwise known as the Battle of the Bulge because of the 60-mile deep bulge it drove into American lines.
As the designer and builder of the database intended to hold all the data that would be fed into the Army's models, I didn't need to understand much about this battle, strictly speaking. But once the database was in place, the data entry screens working, and the output reports designed, I was asked to help with the translation of German records from the battle which our researchers had collected from various archives (I read and speak German). For that task, I had to learn a *lot* about military reporting practices, terminology, and conventions like tables of organization and equipment (TO&Es). I had to become intimately familiar with the 1944 maps of the Ardennes that were available to both the American and German armies, and with the different coordinate systems in use by both sides. This immersion in the details of the battle sparked in me a fascination for this event that has persisted to this day.
As soon as I realized I needed to understand the battle from the top down, I knew I needed to find a single book to begin my study, to get a solid foundation and overview. Since I worked with a company full of professional military historians, naturally I asked for their recommendations. While a number of books had been written about the Bulge in the intervening 40 years (though not nearly as many as now), the consensus was that A Time For Trumpets was the best one out there for its breadth and depth. Thirty-five years later, and having read almost every book available in English, German, and French about the battle, I have to concur.
As Charles MacDonald himself says in the author's note, he was trying to show the battle at all levels, from the highest command conferences to the coldest foxhole, and to convey the feeling of the battle as well as the political and strategic effects of it. He succeeded more magnificently than almost any other work I can think of--one of the few equals is Tuchman's The Guns of August. In part this is because MacDonald himself was not only a participant in the battle as a 21-year-old company commander in that sector that would come to be called the Northern Shoulder (in fact in 1988, when I had the opportunity to work with him briefly before his death, at a seminar on the causes of defeat he famously remarked "I am probably the only person in this room who has been personally defeated in battle"); he later became an historian for the Army and eventually attained the rank of Deputy Chief Historian, so he not only understood how to analyze battles from a strategic perspective but had access to records, memoirs, and interviews with participants from the highest levels of command.
A Time For Trumpets reads like a movie script, helped in part by MacDonald's weaving in of personal details of many of the men (and a few women) who feature in the story. This is not just a litany of names, dates, and places; it's a tapestry of real human lives woven together by events that shaped the history of the last months of World War II.
The book is a little front-loaded, in that it spends a lot of time setting up the circumstances of the battle, covering the moving into place of the units and people that would take part. The opening days of the 6-week battle are covered in great detail--perhaps because that's when the most momentous decisions (and mistakes) were made. Once the German drive reaches its high-water mark ten days after its start, MacDonald begins covering the American drive to close the Bulge in less detail and the roughly four weeks of American counterattack and tenacious German defense is covered in the last couple of chapters.
One of the things that I really commend this book for is the wealth of maps that cover virtually every kilometer of the Ardennes where any fighting took place. Every place of importance in the text is shown on at least one map. This is a rare enough thing in most military histories that I read, that I consider it important to mention. (In fact, when I read this book the first time in the days before Google Earth and zoomable maps at one's fingertips, I xeroxed every map in the book, adjusted the zoom on the copier until I had all the maps at roughly the same scale, and then taped them all together. I had the resulting huge patchwork map on the wall of my office for all the years that our Ardennes Database project lasted.) Unfortunately due to the poor state of graphics productions in the mid-1980s, the maps are relatively crude line drawings, and it can be hard to distinguish a road from a river from a movement arrow; but MacDonald's very descriptive writing helps make up for the lack of detail.
Because of this book, my fascination with the Battle of the Bulge has persisted and grown since 1986; my bookshelves groan under the weight of dozens of books about the battle--overviews such as Dupuy's Hitler's Last Gamble and Eisenhower's The Bitter Woods; volumes about specific aspects, like Bauserman's The Malmedy Massacre or Parker's To Win the Winter Sky; and foreign studies like Milmeister's Die Ardennenschlacht in Luxemburg and Lambert's Bayerlein à Rochefort via Saint Hubert et l'encerclement de Bastogne. If I had to divest myself of all those wonderful works and keep just one book on the Bulge, it would come down to a choice between A Time for Trumpets and Hugh Cole's amazing work of scholarship, the official history The Ardennes: The Battle of the Bulge; but for readability, in the end my choice would be A Time For Trumpets.
Rest in peace, Mac.