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"Committing the nation to war is the gravest decision its leaders can make. The War Game examines why and how Australia went to war, and how it managed the nation's nine conflicts between the First World War and the Iraq War. It explores the relationships between some of the most dominant political leaders in Australian history - Billy Hughes, Robert Menzies, John Curtin, Harold Holt, John Gorton, Bob Hawke and John Howard - and their top military commanders, including William Birdwood, John Monash, Brudenell White, Thomas Blamey, Vernon Sturdee, Douglas MacArthur, Sydney Rowell, Frederick Scherger, John Wilton, Peter Gration and Peter Cosgrove. The War Game raises important questions about the process of war leadership. Should political leaders leave the conduct of the war to their top military commanders or should they interfere? Have Australia's war leaders always made wise decisions? Given that Australia has always fought as a junior partner in a coalition, either within the British Empire or as part of the US alliance, how should Australia's leaders manage these alliance arrangements? And how should Australia's future war leaders prepare for the tasks ahead?"--Publisher's description

Since it was first published in 1982, High Command had become the standard reference for anyone interested in Australia's participation in the Second World War, this edition was originally published in 1992. The 50th anniversary of battles such as Singapore, Coral Sea and Kokoda in 1942 re-awakened interest in these milestones in Australia's struggle for independence. Despite the well-known exploits of Australian servicemen in a score of famous battles, Australia's contribution to the war was ultimately determined by the strategic policy-makers in Canberra, Washington and London. How competent were our politicians, military leaders and advisers in formulating our own war strategy? How much did the performance of Australian troops on the battlefield affect our ability to influence allied strategy? The author describes the clash between Generals Rowell and Blamey in Greece. He reveals the impact of the secretary of the Department of Defence, Sir Frederick Shedden, on strategic policy-making. He analyses the role of intelligence, especially signals intelligence, in allied strategy. He shows how Blamey's miscalculation in 1944 removed any chance of Australian troops joining the Americans in the Philippines. And he reveals how a British admiral challenged the authority of the Australian government. High Command presents the remarkable, full story of the political battles behind the military battles.

Sir Frederick Shedden occupies an interesting and perhaps unique place in any consideration of the great mandarins of the Commonwealth Public Service who flourished, exercised their power, and helped to build modern Australia in the quarter of a century after the end of the Second World War. In many respects he fitted neatly into this characterisation – he was the secretary of the Department of Defence from 1937 until 1956; he wielded great power in the Defence group of departments; he was a key adviser to the prime minister; and he helped shape many of the instruments of government. But in other respects he was different. Unlike his contemporaries from this period, he had been secretary of his department since 1937, that is from before the Second World War. Although he had almost completed a university degree in commerce, he was not especially concerned with economic issues. By the mid-1950s, his power and influence were waning, and he stepped down as departmental secretary almost two years before he formally retired. Further, unlike other mandarins, he refused to move permanently to Canberra, and worked in Melbourne for his entire career.

In October 1941 the new Australian Labor government, led by John Curtin, recalled General Sir Thomas Blamey, Commander of the Australian Imperial Force (AIF) in the Middle East, to Australia for discussions. Since he had arrived in Palestine some 16 months earlier, Blamey's forces had fought in North Africa, Greece, Syria and at the siege of Tobruk. So he was well aware of the seriousness of the war against Germany and Italy. On 15 November 1941, after he had returned to Australia, Blamey delivered a nationwide radio broadcast in which he described the fighting in the Middle East. He continued: And to come from that atmosphere and its scenes back to Australia gives one the most extraordinary feeling of helplessness. You are like - here in this country - a lot of gazelles grazing in a dell on the edge of the jungle, while the beasts of prey are working up toward you, apparently unseen, unnoticed. And it is the law of the jungle that they spring upon you, merciless. Blamey's apprehension proved to be well founded. Less than a month after his address, Japan attacked in the Pacific. Less than two months later Japanese aircraft began attacking Rabaul in the Australian territory of New Guinea, and three months later the troops of the 8th Australian Division marched into captivity in Singapore. Blamey, however, was not completely prescient. Although he had been distressed by observing the peacetime garrison mentality in Singapore, as he was returning to the Middle East in early December he discounted the possibility of an imminent Japanese attack. He was sipping drinks in Karachi as he continued his journey when he was stunned to hear about the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Sir Frederick Shedden occupies an interesting and perhaps unique place in any consideration of the great mandarins of the Commonwealth Public Service who flourished, exercised their power, and helped to build modern Australia in the quarter of a century after the end of the Second World War. In many respects he fitted neatly into this characterisation – he was the secretary of the Department of Defence from 1937 until 1956; he wielded great power in the Defence group of departments; he was a key adviser to the prime minister; and he helped shape many of the instruments of government. But in other respects he was different. Unlike his contemporaries from this period, he had been secretary of his department since 1937, that is from before the Second World War. Although he had almost completed a university degree in commerce, he was not especially concerned with economic issues. By the mid-1950s, his power and influence were waning, and he stepped down as departmental secretary almost two years before he formally retired. Further, unlike other mandarins, he refused to move permanently to Canberra, and worked in Melbourne for his entire career.