LeMay: A Biography (Great Generals)

Considering Curtis LeMay's long-term influence on air power (from before WW II into the early Vietnam era), it is astonishing that there has only been one prior biography: Thomas Coffey's Iron Eagle (1986). This entry in the Great Generals series therefore is the first biography since LeMay's death in 1990. The author clearly knows his subject. He has produced a concise, objective study of one of the most controversial military figures of the 20th century, and one of the most significant. Tillman examines LeMay's early life and career, then traces his evolution from the young commander whose decisions helped speed the end of the Pacific War into the "caveman in a bomber", excoriated by the Left even while he kept the Cold War "frosty" rather than "hot." Readers looking for the story behind the impassive face will have to wait for a more comprehensive treatment. The author's charter apparently was to describe LeMay's leadership philosophy and draw comparisons useful to current managers, as do the other installments in the series. In that regard, Tillman has accomplished his mission: a feat of which LeMay himself would have approved.

This book is a quick and dirty overview of the life and career of Curtis E. LeMay. The biography is rather thin and it hits only the highlights of the general's life. All the books in this series are on the short side and serve more as brief introductions to their subjects than authoritative accounts. There is only so much Tillman can do in the space that he has available and given the constraints he faces, he does a good job. Tillman is a sympathetic biographer and does an exceptional job of explaining LeMay's involvement in the Berlin Airlift. Previous biographers have given this topic little attention. This approach, though, leads Tillman astray when he reaches LeMay's tenure as Chief-of-Staff of the USAF during the Kennedy and Johnson Administrations. Like previous LeMay biographers, Tillman is as dismissive of the national strategies and foreign policies of these administrations as was LeMay. His explanation of these different ideas and approaches is simplistic at best. He is particularly rough on Secretary of Defense Robert S. MacNamara, making the former executive at the Ford Motor Company look at various times as either an incompetent or as a black-and-white villain. It is clear that Tillman likes his subject, and there is much to admire in Curtis E. LeMay as a professional, a leader, and as a man. Tillman, however, has a difficult time developing the general's complex personality. There was good deal more to him than his gruff exterior. Despite his "bomb `em back into the stone age" reputation, LeMay had a powerful understanding of the bleak realities of what war really was. He was fully aware he was sending off men to kill and be killed, and he was alert to the real damage that they would suffer one way or another. He rarely got romantic about the business of war, which made him all the more human and determined to get results. Despite the caliber of Tillman's biography, the best book on LeMay remains the general's own memoirs. If you can get to a library, it is a good read. Otherwise, this book is pretty good too.

Barrett Tillman's LeMay is a welcome addition to military aviation literature. Rooted in extensive research, gracefully written, and cogently argued, it places LeMay in a far richer and thoughtful context than the one-dimensional cigar-chomping, firestrom-triggering, finger-on-the-nuclear-trigger caricature of post-Dr. Strangelove, post-Vietnam sensibility. Tillman ranges widely across LeMay's life, relating it to key developments in military aviation, technology, world events, national strategy, and the political and social environment of the times. Nuanced, polished, and engrossing, it is must-read for anyone interested in the development of American air power and the role of this complex and fascinating man, one of the "Great Captains" of air warfare.