Originally adopted as a mascot by the Polish Army in Iran, Wojtek soon took on a more practical role, carrying heavy mortar rounds for the troops and going on to play his part as a fully enlisted ‘soldier’ with his own rank and number during the Italian campaign.After the war, Wojtek, along with some of his Polish compatriots from II Corps, came to Berwickshire, where he became a significant member of the local community before subsequently moving to Edinburgh Zoo. Wojtek’s retirement was far from quiet: a potent symbol of freedom and solidarity for Poles around the world, he attracted a huge amount of media interest that shows no sign of abating more than 45 years after his death. In an extended introduction, journalist and historian Neal Ascherson reflects on the Polish experience in the Second World War, and gives full recognition to the Poles’ heroic sacrifice and the extraordinary influence they had on the countries in which they served.

    But in 1939, when Hitler's tanks surged across Europe, American war materiel was disastrously scant, and most of it obsolete. President Franklin Roosevelt, frantically trying to ready the nation for war, called for America to build 50,000 airplanes a year. Critics said his goal was not just unachievable, but preposterous.The critics were wrong. By 1945, American factories had turned out a staggering 325,000 aircraft. At the peak of production, huge B-24 bombers were rolling off the assembly line at the rate of one an hour. The Axis powers might have fielded better trained soldiers, tougher tanks, or faster planes, but it could not match American productivity. The United States simply buried its enemies with an industrial output such as the world had never seen. The scale of effort was titanic, and the result historic. It turned the tide of the war, and changed America forever. Small towns in the South and West swelled into cities overnight. Vast numbers of rural workers migrated to urban centers, never to return. Women joined the workforce in unprecedented numbers. War mobilization almost doubled the nation's GDP within four years, ended the Great Depression, and set the United States on the road to the greatest prosperity it had ever known.Until now, this crucial dimension of World War II has never been the subject of a comprehensive history. Maury Klein has delivered a brilliantly textured narrative of epic scope, full of memorable characters—from the canny, ever-improvising FDR, to the captains of industry who overhauled their businesses on the fly, to the real-life Rosie (and Ralph) the Riveters on countless shop floors. A Call to Arms captures when the United States was transformed from a depressed nation, shrinking from global challenges, to a superpower that bestrode the world.

    The smallest of the extermination camps operated by Nazi Germany during World War II, Sobibor was where now-retired auto worker John Demjanjuk has been accused of working as a prison guard. Sobibor also was the scene of the war's biggest prisoner escape.   Richard Rashke's interviews with eighteen of  those who survived provide the foundation for this volume. He also draws on books, articles, and diaries to make vivid the camp, the uprising, and the escape. In the afterword, Rashke relates how the Polish government in October 1993, observed the fiftieth anniversary of the escape and how it has beautified the site since a film based on his book appeared on Polish television.

    It was his custom to dictate each evening a running narrative of the day's events and, after each battle, to summarize its course and the lessons to be learned from it. He wrote, almost daily, intimate and outspoken letters to his wife in which his private feelings and-after the tide had turned-forebodings found expression. To this is added by Rommel's son Manfred the story of the field marshall's last weeks and the final day when he was given the choice of an honorable suicide or an ignominious trial for treason. An engrossing human document and a rare look at the mind of the "Desert Fox," The Rommel Papers throws an interesting light on the Axis alliance and on the inner workings of Hitler's high command.

    A wave of suicides rolled across the country as thousands chose death—for themselves and their children—rather than face the defeat of the Third Reich and what they feared might follow. Drawing on eyewitness accounts, historian Florian Huber tells of the largest mass suicide in German history and its suppression by the survivors—a fascinating insight into the feelings of ordinary people caught in the tide of history who saw no other way out.

    This country house was home to Britain's most brilliant mathematical brains, like Alan Turing, and the scene of immense advances in technology—indeed, the birth of modern computing. The military codes deciphered there were instrumental in turning both the Battle of the Atlantic and the war in North Africa. But, though plenty has been written about the scientists and the codebreaking, fictional and non-fiction—from Robert Harris and Ian McEwan to Andrew Hodges' biography of Turing—what of the thousands of men and women who lived and worked there during the war? The first history for the general reader of life at Bletchley Park, this is also an amazing compendium of memories from people now in their eighties of skating on the frozen lake in the grounds (a depressed Angus Wilson, the novelist, once threw himself in), of a youthful Roy Jenkins—useless at codebreaking, of the high jinks at nearby accommodation hostels, and of the implacable secrecy that meant girlfriend and boyfriend working in adjacent huts knew nothing about each other's work.