War calls upon the best or the worst in human nature, and the final phases of World War II are no exception to that iron law. From Berlin to Tokyo, with stops in Italy and at Montgomery’s HQ, James Holland and Al Murray present a gallery of fascinating—though at times repugnant—figures in Victory ’45: The End of the War in Eight Surrenders (Grove Atlantic).

First, the courageous



On September 2, 1945, General Jonathan M. Wainwright stood on the deck of the USS Missouri—“the ship [that] look[ed] rather like a giant hedgehog”—for the signing of the official instrument of Japan’s surrender. General Douglas MacArthur handed him one of the five fountain pens he used to sign the documents. World War II thus ended for the commander who had been forced to raise the white flag in the Philippines in May 1942 and then endured three and a half years of harsh captivity at the hands of their cruel custodians. Even though Wainwright viewed the pen as “a wholly unexpected and very great gift”, it remained a modest compensation for enduring “one of the worst military defeats in American history,” for which MacArthur bore no small share of responsibility.

The negligent, dare we say “despicable”, victor



The portrait of MacArthur drawn by Holland and Murray is far from flattering. The authors explain that the notorious chieftain enjoyed decisive advantages in preparing his defence of Bataan—but refused to take the necessary steps, even after Pearl Harbor. This ultimately sealed the fate of American troops and their allies when the decision was made, on December 26, 1941, to withdraw there. MacArthur focused on Corregidor while neglecting Wainwright’s men at Bataan. “Because no preparations had been made for such a defence there his forces found themselves numerically double in size to the Japanese but without enough food, medical supplies, fuel or ammunition.” Not a wise decision, because “while guts and fortitude might be inexhaustible, supplies were not. And a force with no supplies was no force at all.” What Wainwright lacked materially was morally offset by his fortitude and stoicism in adversity. After his liberation, President Truman awarded him the Medal of Honor—a decoration MacArthur had refused to grant him three years earlier.

The Emperor who laid down the arms



Not being a specialist in the Pacific War, I learned a great deal about that theatre through Victory ’45. Beyond deepening my admiration for General Wainwright, another figure who deserves particular attention is Emperor Hirohito, who, in the waning days of the conflict, “found himself strangely out of step with the recently created Supreme Council for the Direction of the War […]” regarding the necessity of surrender. The militarists wanted to dictate the agenda till the end. Even after the Emperor resolved to lay down arms—an intention that should have been decisive given his divine status—a coup attempt by recalcitrant Army officers, who planned to hold him hostage, was thwarted thanks to the loyalty of the Imperial Guards Division. The chapter recounting this hair-raising episode is arguably the finest in the outstanding narrative presented across the twelve chapters of the book.

Those who simply wanted to save their skin



In this category, the negotiations initiated by Obergruppenführer Karl Wolff with Allen Dulles and OSS representatives in Switzerland—in what could easily have turned into a deadly rivalry with Obergruppenführer Ernst Kaltenbrunner—are nothing short of riveting. I am referring in particular to the episode in which Wolff called Kaltenbrunner’s bluff and dared him to denounce his secret contacts to the Führer. Wolff, in turn, threatened to inform Hitler of Kaltenbrunner’s and Himmler’s own shabby manoeuvres. The gambit paid off, but only narrowly. These two high-ranking Nazis were far from the only ones whose actions were driven by desperation and fear, yet their behaviour offers a striking vignette of the cupidity and immorality upon which the regime they served was built.

The exhausted warlord



As we mark the 151st anniversary of Sir Winston Churchill’s birth today, I could not conclude this review without mentioning him as well. The British Prime Minister was the only Allied leader whose role spanned the entire war—from the opening days as First Lord of the Admiralty to his tenure at 10 Downing Street. For him, unconditional surrender could not come soon enough. “In reality, Churchill needed the end to come. He was exhausted. Seventy years old, pummelled by the relentless round of travel, committee meetings, briefings, high-stakes decision-making and for a long time, as he had joked on the morning of 7 May, bad news, he had already been troubled by near-fatal pneumonia a couple of years previously. His lifestyle didn’t exactly help either, as he drank and smoked his way through the toughest of times.” The war had already claimed the life of FDR less than a year earlier. One can wonder how long Churchill could have gone without encountering further health challenges.



I have always looked forward to the next book by James Holland. In Victory ’45, together with Al Murray, they deliver a masterful contribution to the study of war—the intersection between events and human decisions, offering keen insight into what shapes individuals in times of crisis. The prose is as precise and compelling as ever; not a line is wasted. Once again, I find myself impatient for the next one that will hit the shelves.

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James Holland and Al Murray, Victory ’45: The End of the War in Eight Surrenders, New York, Grove Atlantic, 2025, 400 pages.