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Summary
Summary
General Dwight Eisenhower commands a diverse army that must destroy Hitler's European fortress. On the coast of France, German commander Erwin Rommel prepares for the coming invasion, as the Führer thwarts the strategies Rommel knows will succeed. Meanwhile, Sergeant Jesse Adams, a veteran of the 82nd Airborne, parachutes with his men behind German lines. And as the invasion force surges toward the beaches of Normandy, Private Tom Thorne of the 29th Infantry Division faces the horrifying prospect of fighting his way ashore on Omaha Beach, a stretch of coast more heavily defended than the Allied commanders anticipate. From G.I. to general, The Steel Wave carries us through the war's most crucial juncture, the invasion that altered the flow of the war and, ultimately, changed history.
Author Notes
Jeff Shaara was born in New Brunswick, New Jersey on February 21, 1952. He received a degree in criminology from Florida State University in 1974. He was a professional dealer in rare coins for many years and operated his own business in Tampa until the death of his father, Michael Shaara, in 1988, when he became actively involved in the elder Shaara's literary estate.
He continued his father's work by researching the history of the characters his father had brought to life in The Killer Angels, and in 1996 his prequel, Gods and Generals, was published. The book was awarded the American Library Association's Boyd Award for Excellence in Military Fiction and was adapted into a motion picture in 2003. His other works include The Last Full Measure, Rise to Rebellion, The Glorious Cause, The Steel Wave, No Less Than Victory, The Final Storm, A Blaze of Glory, A Chain of Thunder, The Smoke at Dawn, and The Fateful Lightning. He received another Boyd Award for To the Last Man.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (3)
Publisher's Weekly Review
This keystone of the bestselling WWII trilogy dramatizes D-Day and ups the bar for military historicals, demonstrating that Shaara (The Rising Tide) has hit full stride. The epic-scale novel opens on January 25, 1944, with British commandos gathering soil samples on Omaha Beach to assess landing sites. Shaara gives the Americans, called "the great waves of steel" by the Germans, their due portion in the grisly, brutal Allied invasion, and the experiences of the grunt soldiers--most notably the indefatigable U.S. Army Sgt. Jesse Adams--offers a field-level view of D-Day and afterward, generating more suspenseful reading than the matter-of-fact accounts of the big-brass dealings of Eisenhower and Churchill. The Allied leaders' personalities emerge with agile clarity, while German Field Marshal Erwin Rommel embodies "the good soldier" laboring under a delusional Hitler and German High Command ensconced in cozy Berlin. Rommel's ambivalent complicity in the assassination plot on Hitler is convincingly rendered and paves the way for the final act. The muscular prose, deft sense of military drama and relentless pacing are well suited for this crackerjack saga. (May) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Booklist Review
This is the second volume of Shaara's planned trilogy of novels dealing with America's role in World War II in Europe. Here Shaara's topic is D-Day, the Allied effort to begin the liberation of Nazi-occupied Europe by amphibious landings on the coast of Normandy. With decades of hindsight, the success of the Normandy invasion may seem inevitable and a tribute to Allied forces. As Shaara's fine novel illustrates, however, success was far from assured, and the planning fell short in numerous ways. Paratroopers missed their drop sites by miles; air cover for the debarking troops was sporadic; and units became quickly separated on the beaches. On the German side, similar confusion reigned. Although this is technically a work of fiction, Shaara again relies on actual historical figures to tell his story, including Generals Eisenhower, Bradley, Rommel, and von Rundstedt. Although the dialogue is invented, Shaara knows the men and the material so their thoughts and conversations are credible. In the end, it appears, Allied success was due to the actions of hundreds of ordinary soldiers, who combined courage with the ability to improvise when the best laid plans broke down, as they so often do in war.--Freeman, Jay Copyright 2008 Booklist
Library Journal Review
Shaara's second entry in his World War II trilogy (after The Rising Tide) is a magnificent and epic telling of the terrible days of the D-day invasion in June 1944. As before, Shaara effectively uses the technique of adding thoughts, dialog, and intense action to flesh out the real historical characters and events of D-day. The author lets readers share the doubts, hopes, frustrations, and fears of both the great leaders and the ordinary soldiers who have to carry out what the great ones have planned. Nor does he ignore the political implications of each nation's actions, which sometimes caused tragic miscalculations on both sides. There is no sugarcoating the horrors of war; nobody is spared. Shaara portrays his characters as human and fully capable of pettiness and making bloody mistakes and committing atrocities. Intense, compelling, and thoroughly researched, this is much more than just an excellent historical novel. Highly recommended for all fiction collections.--Robert Conroy, Warren, MI (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
1. THE COMMANDO At Sea, Bay of the Seine January 25, 1944 The air underwater was foul and wet, five men pulling against the thinning oxygen. He sat erect, his back painfully pressed against a coil of wire, part of the electrical system of the craft. She was an X-5 class midget submarine, designed to deliver a magnetic mine or similar explosive device, something to be attached to the bottom of an enemy ship. They were stealthy, of course, no blip on anyone's radar screen, so the British navy had used them on raids all along the coastline, from Norway to the Mediterranean, usually with enormous risk to both the subs and their small crews. But tonight the sub was not armed, and where explosives had once been stored she now carried three passengers and their equipment. He tried to stretch his back--no room--and twisted his shoulders instead, working out the kinks. The air was growing worse, thin and acrid, bitter smells of oil and wet cloth. There were no dry places in the small sub, every surface had a slick coating of oily grease or water, mostly condensation. The engine made a low hum, deadened by the steel of the bulkhead, the sub lurching slowly from side to side, held now by long low waves that rolled silently toward the beaches. "Suit up, lads." The voice was low, a croak from the lieutenant. He knew the order was coming, yanked hard at his small duffel bag, and retrieved it from the tight gap beneath his feet. Inside were all the tools he would need for the mission. The first priority was unrolling the tight spool of the rubber suit, a single piece, zipped open down the front. There was little room to stand, and he fought to slide the thin rubber over his legs, working his feet downward, pushing. He slid the suit beneath his bottom, pushed his arms into the narrow sleeves, freed his fingers, gave one loud grunt, and pulled the suit up over his shoulders. The others were grunting as he was, straining in the tight space, backs and arms bent low, each man forcing himself into his taut suit. He tried to relax, leaning back against the bulkhead, and took a breath, sour air filling his mouth, took another, felt his chest heave in a futile gasp. He was sweating, worse inside the suit, and the air was growing fouler still. No matter how the air cleaners strained, they were not designed to handle the nervous breathing of five men. He leaned forward again, pulled the zipper tight against his neck, then tugged at the headpiece, sliding it over his ears, snug, only his face revealed. He reached again into the bag, found a small tube of grease, black and oily, squeezed a thick stream onto his fingers, and rubbed it on his face, coating any part that would reflect moonlight. The duffel was nearly empty now, but he found his knife, his only weapon, and strapped it to his leg, tight and secure, then went into the bag again for a small bundle, a cloth pouch attached to a thin belt, and slid it around his waist. The man beside him gave him a nudge with his elbow. "All set here. You all right, Dundee?" "Yep. You tight in? Ready?" The man slapped his hands on Dundee's leg. "Ready as I'll ever be." Dundee leaned forward, looked past, and said to the third man, "Lieutenant? You set, then?" The lieutenant scanned both men. Dundee could see his face sweating, a dull wet mask, lit by the yellow glow from the sub's instrument panel. Then the officer began to smear his face with the black grease. "Don't concern yourselves with me. My job is to worry about you. And right now I'm ready to get this little show moving." From the main control seat, the sub's commander turned around toward them. "We'll be on the surface in half a minute. On my command, Mr. Higgins will open the hatch, and out you go. Make it quick. I'll Excerpted from The Steel Wave: A Novel of World War II by Jeff Shaara All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
