Fictional junctions developed in parallel complexity to passenger junctions on the rails in the 1860s and 1870s as multiplot novels expanded into series. Chapter 3 examines Dickens’s co-authored collection, Mugby Junction (1866), and Anthony Trollope’s Palliser Novels (1864–1879), alongside traffic management systems operating on railways of the period. This chapter provides a cohesive reading of Mugby Junction, a collection whose significance to railway culture is usually determined with reference only to Dickens’s contributions. The chapter examines how form complements content in Mugby Junction, as each short story in the collection examines a different branch or main line. Anthony Trollope, by contrast, offers relatively little direct contemplation of the railway aside from a memorable scene set at Tenway Junction, but he uses railway logistics to manage his plot lines. What emerges from this long-form multiplot work is Trollope’s tendency to re-run certain narrative configurations over the course of the series (love triangles, politics, finance), with very minor adjustments. Through this, we can begin to understand how even the most apparently rigid systems change over time.

The four volumes of the Cambridge History of War were conceived in global terms. The aim was to go beyond a history centred on warfare in Europe, in which the global context emerged solely through the eyes of European exploration, trading, and colonisation. Instead, the volumes would seek to provide the reader with a broader approach to warfare across the world, in which the experiences and trajectories of states and their military systems could be examined and compared. Europe and Europe’s military engagement with the wider world would have a place, but would not be the single point of reference from which global warfare would be seen. This aim was the starting point for Volume III, both as initially conceived by the first editors, John Childs and Arthur Waldron, and then by the current editorial team.

The siege played such a dominant role in both medieval and early modern warfare that it is difficult to overstate the significance of the twin revolutions in gunpowder artillery and fortification which together transformed fortress warfare and the face of Europe. The continent was to be marked by chains of new frontier and coastal forts, expanded naval bases, and girdles of earth-filled ramparts and bastions around towns, often sweeping away picturesque medieval walls and towers and replacing them by much lower-profile works. The rash of urban citadels by which so many rulers sought to guarantee their security would be matched by what Parker called the ‘demilitarised zone’ of central France following the Wars of Religion and the Fronde. Ruined fortresses litter the continent. The demolitions following most civil wars, rebellions, or frontier adjustments speak to the importance of fortified places. Whether it was the local power projected by castle or border fort or the major concentration of resources protected by walled towns or major fortresses, fortified places were the main objective of offensive operations.

For all of the obvious importance of warfare in the period when the Safavid dynasty (1501–1736) was in power in Iran, relatively little has been written on the topic of the military in this formative phase of Iranian history. Jamil Quzanlu, Vladimir Minorsky, and Laurence Lockhart were the first to address the organisation and development of the army in the Safavid period. Their studies have since been supplemented by the work of Yahya Dhuka, Khanbaba Bayani, Masashi Haneda, Richard Tapper, Willem Floor, Walter Posch, Giorgio Rota, and the present author. Much work remains to be done, though, and what follows is therefore a preliminary survey.

Discontent in Britain’s Thirteen Colonies had built to open violence by the mid-1770s, much of it occurring in and around Boston. (See Map 19.) A lack of representation and perceptions that British leaders pursued overbearing policies because they were indifferent or even hostile to the plight of the inhabitants pushed ever more colonists towards open rebellion. In response, the tools Britain possessed to confront its colonial troubles were limited by the nature of its government and the few instruments at its disposal. These included the army and navy, but their use at Boston only exacerbated tensions. Fighting flared on 19 April 1775 when British soldiers attempted to seize munitions at Concord, Massachusetts. Along the way, at Lexington, shots were fired and several colonists were killed. Afterwards, colonists sniped at and harried the British on their return to Boston. In the wake of Lexington and Concord, American militia gathered around Boston, surrounding its British garrison. Nearly two months after the outbreak of hostilities, the Americans seized and fortified the strategic Charlestown Peninsula overlooking Boston harbour. In response, the British stormed the position in what became known as the battle of Bunker Hill: the first major battle of the American Revolution. At the end of the day, the British held the field, but at the cost of nearly a quarter of their army in Boston.

Sub-Saharan Africa was on the threshold of a new and violent era in the second half of the fifteenth century. The ensuing four centuries would see innovative forms of military organisation, novel cultures of militarism underpinning such systems, and new wars, as well as new ways of fighting them. There were often different factors at work in different regions; the presence of external drivers was a key distinction between Atlantic Africa and the rest of the continent, for instance. However, warfare across early modern Africa had much in common, in terms of the aim to control factor endowments, to maximise population, and to construct enduring ideological systems, whether territorially or culturally defined. In some ways – certainly in terms of the underlying trends and broad contours of Africa’s military history – the existence or absence of external intrusion is a distraction, however significant it was in particular places at particular times. The outcome of the processes in motion between c. 1450 and c. 1850 was an expansion in military scale, the professionalisation of soldiery, the adoption of new weaponry, and the militarisation of the polity – whether ‘state-based’ or otherwise. The militarisation of African polities and societies was an ongoing process between the fifteenth and the nineteenth century, a period which in many ways witnessed the laying of the foundations of modern African political systems; this would culminate in a veritable military revolution in the nineteenth century, a transformation in the organisation and culture of violence, without which Europe’s later partition of the continent cannot properly be understood.

Ottoman wars from the mid-fifteenth century through the end of the eighteenth century fundamentally changed the geopolitics of Southeast Europe, West Asia, and the Middle East. The Ottomans emerged in West Asia Minor toward the end of the thirteenth century. Known as “Turks” in contemporaneous Europe, the Ottoman ruling elite incorporated people of a wide variety of ethnic origins who considered themselves the followers and descendants of Osman (d. 1324?), the dynasty’s founder. Those loyal to the dynasty of Osman used the Turkish designation of “Osmanlı” (Turkish, “of Osman”), which over time came to be rendered in English as “Ottoman.” Within three generations after Osman’s death, the Ottomans had either conquered or subjugated into vassalage most of the preexisting polities and rival dynasties in the Balkans and Asia Minor. Timur Lenk’s victory over the Ottomans near Ankara in 1402 temporarily checked Ottoman expansion. Still, the dynasty recovered, and by 1453 Sultan Mehmed II (r. 1444–46, 1451–81) sealed the Ottomans’ status as a formidable military power by conquering Constantinople, the capital of the thousand-year-old Byzantine or Eastern Roman Empire. Expansion through conquest continued well into the sixteenth century. Ottoman battlefield victories under Sultan Selim I (r. 1512–20) against the Safavids of Persia (Chaldiran in 1514) and the Mamluks of Syria and Egypt (Marj Dabiq in 1516 and Raydaniyya in 1517) and under Sultan Süleyman (r. 1520–66) against the Hungarians (Mohács in 1526) resulted in spectacular Ottoman territorial gains in eastern Anatolia, Azerbaijan, Syria, Egypt, and Hungary.

The book examines Nationalist China’s military provisioning strategies during its war against Japan, from procurement and storage to transportation and seizure from the enemy, to make two broader points. Firstly, the conflict shows that the historical concept of total war should not be confined to modern technology as a means or to rapid victory as an end. Chinese thinkers christened their struggle against Japan a “total war,” but held a different vision of totality to accommodate China’s premodern resource base and commitment to protracted warfare. Secondly, logistics deserves more attention not just among military historians, but among all scholars of war. Its technicalities are a crucial window into the everyday experiences of ordinary actors who have been marginalized in historical scholarship.

Taking a spatial and pragmatic approach to markets, this chapter develops an understanding of small trade and its logistics in markets at the periphery of global capitalism. Based on field surveys carried out in Senegal, it examines the day-to-day interactions between wholesalers, resellers and logistics intermediaries that organize the circulation of goods within and between distributed marketplaces and spaces. The research question addresses the process of ‘scaling up’ that transforms a multitude of small hawker transactions into mass consumer markets. The analysis reveals a reticular structure interconnecting individual and informal cross-border traders and shopkeepers, resellers of differing sizes and capacities, and the interconnection of these parties by ‘coxers’ and drivers, who are actors in both micro-logistics and hawking. It shows that the daily circulation of a multitude of small batches of goods relies on logistics assemblages recomposed on a day-to-day basis, based on kinship (interpersonal alliances), tech-ship (micro-technologies) and a credit chain. It shows how this socio-technical circulation infrastructure is a key driver of market access for small traders, allows for the conquest of spatial scales, and provides a flexibility of hierarchies and trajectories as a form of market organization.

Military comparison between Hannibal and Scipio began early, with their conversation at Ephesus, 193. First rule of generalship was: stay alive as ‘battle manager’; this had to be balanced by felt need for heroic leadership. Both learned warlike skills from relatives (Scipio grew up with three consular uncles and a consular father), but the biggest lesson was to avoid these men’s premature battle deaths. Army reforms are reviewed; Scipio’s are better attested. In logistics, both faced similar problems, but Hannibal’s isolation meant his challenges were greater. For weaponry, Hannibal had to improvise and recycle. Hannibal’s tactics were superior to Roman at the outset, but Scipio learned from his enemy. Both practised ‘Punic’ deception. Neither shone at siege or naval warfare. Hannibal’s struggle for Italian hearts and minds conflicted with his need to extract supplies. On man management, Scipio’s handling of Pleminius was a blemish. Unlike Scipio, Hannibal never faced a mutiny.

Military comparison between Hannibal and Scipio began early, with their conversation at Ephesus, 193. First rule of generalship was: stay alive as ‘battle manager’; this had to be balanced by felt need for heroic leadership. Both learned warlike skills from relatives (Scipio grew up with three consular uncles and a consular father), but the biggest lesson was to avoid these men’s premature battle deaths. Army reforms are reviewed; Scipio’s are better attested. In logistics, both faced similar problems, but Hannibal’s isolation meant his challenges were greater. For weaponry, Hannibal had to improvise and recycle. Hannibal’s tactics were superior to Roman at the outset, but Scipio learned from his enemy. Both practised ‘Punic’ deception. Neither shone at siege or naval warfare. Hannibal’s struggle for Italian hearts and minds conflicted with his need to extract supplies. On man management, Scipio’s handling of Pleminius was a blemish. Unlike Scipio, Hannibal never faced a mutiny.

A mass gathering is often a preplanned event, like a concert or sporting event, held at a specific location for a defined duration that strains planning and response resources. However, a mass gathering can also be spontaneous, such as the gathering of mourners associated with the death of a celebrity or a protest. Over the last few years, we have seen an increase in the number of protests, some events that are pre-planned and organized but others that are not and that can quickly become out-of-control and end in tragedy. The bottom line is that despite the many years of dealing with and researching mass gatherings, there remains a lack of in depth understanding of the mass gathering and, despite often being attended by reasonably healthy or well people, the gatherings seem to be more hazardous than expected

Often regarded as the oldest surviving work on strategy, the Sun Tzu text has influence in many quarters today. This study organizes Sun Tzu’s ideas under fourteen thematic headings. It also clarifies Sun Tzu’s limitations and blind spots. Building on Brigadier General Samuel B. Griffith, USMC (Ret.)’s translation, this study analyzes Sun Tzu from three standpoints: Sun Tzu (1), Sun Tzu’s ideas in their original Warring States Chinese context; Sun Tzu (2), Sun Tzu’s ideas applied to warfare in a military sense in other times and places; Sun Tzu (3), generalizations of those ideas, including to cyber warfare and other twenty-first-century strategic competitions. Whereas Sun Tzu (1) analysis addresses ways in which the text is a product of its times, intertwined with traditional Chinese cultural milieux, Sun Tzu (2) and (3) analyses, often building on analogical thinking, map universalistic aspects of Sun Tzu’s insights into war and conflict, strategy, logistics, information, intelligence, and espionage. Those analyses also identify ways in which Sun Tzu’s thinking has relevance to gaining strategic advantage in twenty-first-century conflicts.

This chapter has two parts. Adopting an accretionist perspective on the Sun Tzu text – regarding it as developing over an extended period with no single author – the first part provides basic background on the Warring States era in which the text took shape. It analyzes an early Chinese battle illustrating Sun Tzu principles, then ends with discussion of logistics aspects of Warring States warfare. Shifting from battlefields to texts, the second part provides comparative overview of different extant copies of the Sun Tzu text, some traditionally transmitted, one archaeologically recovered. Some textual issues aside, the Sun Tzu text is in relatively good shape for a text of its antiquity. The second part ends with overview of a set of eleven traditional commentators on the text; perspective on the sprawling modern Sun Tzu literature; and brief orientation to the Sanguo yanyi (Romance of the Three Kingdoms), one of China’s great pre-modern vernacular novels. Although this novel of Ming dynasty vintage is not properly part of the Sun Tzu tradition, in modern times many Chinese have been exposed to Sun-Tzu-esque thinking through the Sanguo’s vivid, albeit fictionalized, stories.

This chapter has two parts. Adopting an accretionist perspective on the Sun Tzu text – regarding it as developing over an extended period with no single author – the first part provides basic background on the Warring States era in which the text took shape. It analyzes an early Chinese battle illustrating Sun Tzu principles, then ends with discussion of logistics aspects of Warring States warfare. Shifting from battlefields to texts, the second part provides comparative overview of different extant copies of the Sun Tzu text, some traditionally transmitted, one archaeologically recovered. Some textual issues aside, the Sun Tzu text is in relatively good shape for a text of its antiquity. The second part ends with overview of a set of eleven traditional commentators on the text; perspective on the sprawling modern Sun Tzu literature; and brief orientation to the Sanguo yanyi (Romance of the Three Kingdoms), one of China’s great pre-modern vernacular novels. Although this novel of Ming dynasty vintage is not properly part of the Sun Tzu tradition, in modern times many Chinese have been exposed to Sun-Tzu-esque thinking through the Sanguo’s vivid, albeit fictionalized, stories.