Customer Reviews

H.M.S. Ulysses

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4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

MacLean's HMS Ulysses is a classic book of man against man but more importantly, man against the sea. Set in the brutal Murmansk Run, this book is an account of the men of a ship marked out from the rest of the Royal Navy by a resistance to discipline. The crew is rebelling against mindless authority but is still ready to do its duty - along the lines of the great Mutiney of 1797, when ships of the Royal Navy effectively deposed brutal and mindless officers but always maintained that it would up anchor and fight any attackers. The men of Ulysses strike me as linear descendants of the sailors fighting Napoleon's fleet.

There is a great cross section of British society in the officers and men of Ulysses; from aristocratic flag officers to gentleman rankers in the lower rates. Petty tyrants and officers one would gladly follow anywhere. MacLean has included them all and made it work to perfection in his tale.

THe constant theme is not the brutality of war, or men killing each other, but the constant battle with the sea in all its many forms. MacLean's attention to detail gives an almost 'you are there' quality to his writing. The reader feels he is right there on the bow of Ulysses as it gets underway for one more run to Murmansk, to being on the bridge in her ultimate engagement with the German Navy. You can almost feel the bone breaking cold whenever you are placed out on deck. MacLean puts you right in the middle of it.

If any of MacLean's books deserve to be made into movies, this is one that is long overdue.

I found this book to be one that I didn't want to put down. I felt the charecters were all extremely well developed, men that were almost real. I don't know if MacLean was in the Royal Navy during World War II, but reading this book, I certainly get that impression. This is a classic in Naval literature.

I didn't make the Murmansk run, but I have lost shipmates due to inclement weather and cold in the North Atlantic.

I didn't make the Murmansk run, but I have had to abandon ship due to enemy action.

I didn't make the Murmansk run, but I lost friends who did.

I didn't make the Murmansk run, but the author of H.M.S.Ulysses (MacLean 1955) certainly did. And he writes with a sureness and skill that makes me realize again what I knew so well during World War II -- that I was blessed and favored by God in not having made that run.

This is NOT a book for those who cherish the fairy tales of Aubrey. It is strong drink for those raised on the pallid tea of Bolitho and Ramage. It will stretch the sensibilities of followers of Hornblower or Fox. It will bring tears and anguish to those who like me recognize what men can go through, do go through, must go through.

Of all the war stories I have read from The Iliad on this is unequivocally the best Three times I have read it and each time with more pain than joy. I have almost a feeling of duty as if in the reading I am paying tribute to the men who made that run and -- in a sense -- exulting in my having been spared from the same.

There have been reviewers who have suggested that this would make a good movie. To them I say nonsense. There is not a producer with the guts to produce it nor an actor who could convincingly play most of the parts. And I doubt if there is an audience with the stomach to watch it.

I didn't make the Murmansk run, but better men than I did -- and they died there.

MacLean never wrote a better novel than this, his first.

For those who love the sea and yet respect her fearsome savagry, HMS Ulysses satisfies. Brilliant character development, superb technical detail.

HMS Ulysses is a good novel -- more than that, the book pays tribute to both the Royal Navy and the Merchant Marine, and homage in equal measure to all -- German, British, American. It reminds us that brave men sailed the North Atlantic, and that courage knows no boundaries.

The book follows the fortunes of a fighting ship whose crew is slowly self-destructing after months of convoy duty in the North Atlantic. They are offered the prospect of a break in the Mediterranean if they can complete one final convoy to Russia through the murderous North Atlantic, and thereby atone for a mutiny that has left two people dead...

Their voyage -- and ultimate atonement -- tests the mettle of all on board, and challenges the base assumptions we tend to make about the inherant goodness of Humanity. It will leave you pondering how you would have responded under similar circumstances, and perhaps may leave you less than satisfied with what you learn about yourself.

As a tale it compares well with Noel Coward's wartime movie "In Which We Serve". MacLean paints his tale with prosaic pictures that stay in your mind more persistently than any film could. The final image of the HMS Ulysses, with battle ensign flying, stays with you long after you put the book down.

MacLean's book reminds us that things like this happened every day, once. It is a reminder of the gallantry of a generation that is fast disappearing.

The HMS Ulysses was built for one mission - escorting convoys from Scotland to Murmansk, Russia. Though a novel, "Ulysses" stays to a very specific historical context - the RN's desperate missions to keep Russia supplied during WWII. In this novel, he follows the travails of the Ulysses as it sets forth on a convoy that has every hint of disaster. It's 1943, the tide of the war had turned against the Axis on every front but on the seas. Though devotees of either nautical fiction or WWII novels are actually the last to label WWII as "the good war", even they might be shocked to learn the desperate straits through which MacLean sails his titular ship. The "Murmansk Run" has convoys sailing through waters rife with terror both natural and man-made - horrors to which Ulysses has long become familiar with, yet never immune. Worn down by the arctic storms, by constant attacks from German subs, dive bombers and cruisers, by outbreaks of TB and under constant threat of the mighty Battleship Tirpitz, Ulysses is a ship coming apart at the seams. The only thing holding the crew and ship together is there respect for its young and ailing captain and the desperation of the allied war effort. Their superiors in Admiralty would gladly supply less outdated escorts with more experienced crews, or replace their undersized (and outgunned) escort jeep carriers with fleet aircraft carriers - if that were available (during a deceptively simple dialog early on, officers detail the desperation of their situation, which includes rusty old ships with ripe crews, and escort carriers which would never be confused with the main-fleet monsters). But disintegrate the ship does, under attack by u-boats, Hipper-class cruisers, Condor bombers and the ceaseless assault of the Arctic. McLean does a superlative job taking both crew and vaunted ship apart. While he doesn't glorify war, he doesn't stoop at taking cheap shots at those who lead the war-effort either. (Those familiar with the lore of the "Murmansk Run" may wonder if this book fictionalizes the tragedy known only as "PQ-17"; in fact, MacLean mentions that tragedy in an extended foot-note early on. It's an unusual device, but an effective one, since it allows MacLean to state unequivocally where he stands, and bravely make the case for RN planners who doubtlessly suffered the blame for PQ-17's casualties. Further, it frames the context of the "Murmansk Run" while implying that, though he's aware of the background behind the Russia-bound convoys, he won't be enslaved to write a bloodless fictionalized version of them. Instead, the footnote makes it plain that MacLean wants to write his own book, a promise that he fulfills). Neither does McLean stoop to gory effects. "Ulysses" neither glorifies war nor condemns it with cheap tactics. One reviewer took issue with the book's poor characterization, and that complaint is actually dead-on with respect to one of its characters. Though MacLean's treatment of an incompetent junior officer who blames others for his clumsiness is gratuitous (MacLean, rather than his characters, personally concludes the officer's active-duty status is the result of numerous mistakes, adding plenty of proof that the subject isn't even worth debate), it takes up a mercifully short amount of the book. Slim character development is acceptable because the author makes it clear that individuality was one of the sacrifices (like fresh food, and not having to worry about frostbite) that Ulysses' crew are forced to forego due to the war. Instead of nuances, the only sense of singularity that any crewman can have under those circumstances is whether he will bend or break with the arctic tide - a question that will keep you guessing to the end. Many authors will claim that they can put their readers on the decks of ships or in planes in war, but MacLean is not only one of few who suceeds but achieves the incredible feat of brining the tale to life - stingingly icy salt spray, U-Boats and all - but makes it a world you can't quite tear yourself away from.

MacLean's first novel, this is easily his best. It is a little different than his usual adventure-thrillers. This is a serious book about the naval war of World War II. The North Atlantic convoy runs saw some of the highest casualties during the war and MacLean puts the reader squarely in the middle of that icy Nordic hell. What happens when men are pushed far too far makes for some of the most gripping reading around.

My grandfather was a Master Mariner - qualified in both steam and sail - and he was also a captain on these Murmansk convoys on a merchant vessel. There was no armour plate for him or rapid-fire Oerlikon guns, just a few out-dated machines guns, and the selfish hope that it would happen to someone else. He could not outrun the bombers or the torpedo, a little zig-zagging was the most he could manage, and pray that his colleagues in the destroyers and other warships would look after them, and that his engineer would keep the steam pressure up.

His enemies were the German Navy and AirForce, and the incessant Arctic weather. There was no hiding place, or port of respite, the supplies had to get through, the ammunition, oil, guns and tanks - the bricks and mortar of war. If the merchant ships sank, soldiers were left unable to fight or planes could not take off - these thoughts were always in the sailors' minds. It was always the sacrifice of the few for the good of the many.

The crews of these warships were the forgotten heroes, toiling in the cold, damp, dark chambers of these warships, stoking the boilers, minding the pumps, carrying the ammunition; knowing that in the event of a leak, the hatches would be sealed above them, and the would drown or suffocate, whilst they were separated from torpedoes and gunshells by a thin layer of steel, instant death was a second away. The admirals and captains got the fame and credit, but it was paid for by the flesh and blood of the ratings and those marines who volunteered to serve aboard.

This book just tells it like it was.

Alastair Maclean's books tend to run along formulaic lines - the good guy good humouredly taking a fearful beating, the bad guy snarlingly getting his eventual comeuppance. Whether it's a Formula One race track, an island in the Barents Sea or a submarine beneath the polar ice cap, the pattern is unshakeable. Not bad, you understand, but familiar.
This book, however, is completely different. Mr Maclean served in the Royal Navy during the Second World War and took part in several convoys similar to those described in this book. His experiences have coloured his writing and given this book an immediacy and a depth that the others lack. This book serves as a tribute to the men that lost their lives in the fearful Arctic Convoys of World War Two, a critical theatre of war that was largely forgotten.

If all you have read by Alistair MacLean is "The Guns of Navarone", you have missed a much better read in this book. HMS Ulysses is a fine action tale, with all the drama and tension of The Hunt For Red October. But there is so much more--the realistic descriptions of life on a warship in the North Atlantic, men who reflect on the nature of war, individual acts of heroism and tragedy. All these things raise it above the common lot of the war novel. You will be inspired by some of it, fascinated by some of it, and you may even have to stop---as I did---to put the book down for a moment to recover when the terrible savagery of War becomes too gut-wrenchingly alive. Strongly recommended; a fantastic book.

If Alistair Maclean had written only this novel I am sure it would be ranked alongside The Red Badge of Courage, The Naked And The Dead and All Quiet on the Western Front as a classic novel of men at war. Unfortunately his subsequent thrillers, so lightweight by comparison, have meant a lot of people would pass it by. It is a powerful testament to the men who suffered and died on WW2 convoys. Brilliantly told, it evokes strong emotions as it brings you face to face with the cruelty of war, and the devotion to duty that drives men on in spite of hardship and terror.

I recently made a couple of business trips to London. On the first I toured the H.M.S. Belfast, now part of the Imperial War Museum, moored in the Pool of London on the River Thames just inside the Tower Bridge. (See http://www.iwm.org.uk/belfast/belfast.htm for more detail.) It was a self-guided tour. With pamphlet in hand the curious tourist can poke through practically every passageway in the ship. Lifelike mannequins represent life on board one of Her Majesty's proudest vessels. Even the ship's cat is represented keeping guard over undesirable stowaways. The mighty turrets seem invincible. The crew's quarters seem cramped, but the atmosphere is adventurous and almost romantic. The ship seems large and powerful and puissant.

In between trips, I picked up an old copy of H.M.S. Ulysses, by spellbinding mystery and adventure author Alistair Maclean. Through the eyes of the crew of the Ulysses I experienced real life aboard the Belfast. The Ulysses, though not exactly the same ship as the Belfast, nevertheless shared many commonalities with her. They were both used as escorts for the savage arctic convoys, brutally trying to bring supplies and arms to Russian ports desperate for help. They had similar armaments, crew, assignments, and even paint jobs. The Ulysses became the Belfast for me as I witnessed the awesome forces of nature and the brutal effects of prolonged exposure to frigid elements, sleep deprivation, death, sacrifice and just plain old fear.

The ravaged and bone-weary seamen move ghostlike through day after numbing day. Branded mutineers and traitors by the brass, they're given one last opportunity for redemption. Escort one last ill-fated convoy from Scapa Flow, Britain's arctic sea base north and east to Murmansk. Harangued by reconnaissance planes, U-Boats, destroyers, stuka fighters, and even threatened by the invincible German warship Tirpitz, the Ulysses gallantly accompanies her convoy ever nearer its goal.

My second trip brought me back to the Belfast. I didn't pay to go on the tour again. I didn't need to. In my mind I could envision every nook and cranny. From the Tower Bridge I gazed at the beautiful ship and remembered the Ulysses.

Don't read this book unless you plan on leaving a part of yourself in the frigid waters of the North Atlantic.