Excitement

As I woke excitement filled my heart.  

Now, in days past excitement often filled my heart, gripping me to the exclusion of all but the day ahead.  As a 6 year old the thought of travelling by steam train across the Forth Bridge to Fife was exciting.  A few days with my favourite aunt was always exciting.

When I was 14 the idea of leaving school and entering the adult world excited me greatly.  This I did not realise then comprised spending much time seeking what to eat later in the day! 

The excitement at standing in Tynecastle Park as the football was about to begin was always great.  Across the ground I watched puffs of smoke from lone smokers rise into the air, the sunshine on wet grass provided an aroma never forgotten, as indeed was the fragrance of the embrocation cream rubbed on footballers legs before a game to prepare them for combat.  Standing by the tunnel this was never missed.

Moving to London was exciting, living in my own wee slum excited me.  And slum it was, and probably still is, but it was my home.

Going abroad was excitement indeed, foreign parts, foreign foods, and not being shot by a trigger happy Israeli is always good.

Moving into this luxury home in the sticks was excitement indeed, self contained and never mind the faults.  

So many events brightening my life with excitement!

The arrival just before 2pm of a delivery of slippers from M&S was another thing that excited me.

Today however, I woke excited because I was going to visit 'Iceland' and buy frozen veg.

I think I may be in need of care...

Several things strike you as you look at this book.  The first is how the name 'Max Hastings' is larger than the title 'Operation Pedestal.'  I canny work out whether this is because his name sells more books or because he wants his name to be clear at the top.  Who knows.  I do know however, that like all Max's books it runs to 428 pages, which makes me glad it is paperback and not a hardback like others of his in my possession.  

The war had reached 1942, and as yet the allies were still on the defensive.  Malta was near starvation rations and Winston Churchill, still fully in control, understood that morale required to be lifted by great adventures.  The year previously a convoy headed towards Russia was attacked deep in Arctic territory.  The commander of that convoy made the disastrous decision to command remove the Royal Navy support and command the fleet to make full steam for the Soviet Union.  Almost all ships were lost!  

Our friend Comrade Stalin was not pleased.

Churchill realised morale must be lifted, the UK must succeed with a Malta convoy, whatever the Admiralty thought, and was determined to convince Uncle Joe that the UK was not finished.

The convoy therefore set out from various parts of the UK, combined at Gibraltar, and headed east into territory controlled by the German and Italian fleet and air forces.  In short, into an impossible situation.  

Off Algiers the attacks began, continuing, and increasing, by air and submarine as they headed towards Cape Bon o Tunisia.  Here the attacks were constant and severe.  From the 11th until the 13th the fleet was attacked by air and sea, not helped by the Admiralty turning back the largest of their escort ships, in case these were lost!  Opinions varied regarding this decision.  The mainly destroyer, escorts did their best in the best tradition of the Royal Navy but were outgunned and outnumbered.  Only on the last days could the RAF help from Malta itself, and courageous they were, but finding the by now dispersed fleet in an ocean is not easy.

In the end 5 Merchantmen arrived in Malta, bruised and crippled, including the oil tanker 'Ohio.'  However, 9 merchant ships were lost.  The Royal Navy suffered the loss of one aircraft carrier, HMS 'Eagle,' 2 cruisers and one destroyer, plus several more being seriously damaged.  Many men on both sides, on ships or in the air, were lost.  The convoy however, provided sufficient supplies for a rationed Malta to endure until November when Montgomery's 8th Army won at El Alemain and turned the course of the war.  The morale boost to the UK with the success of the convoy, while ignoring the mistakes, the faults and anything that might hinder good propaganda, was immense.  The UK showed that it could win, on land and sea, and in February 1943 the Soviet forces ended the siege of Stalingrad and began the long trek towards Berlin.  

The book is slow at the beginning as Max works through masses of information regarding the men the ships, the arguments regarding the convoy.  He then gives details of the ships themselves, the men aboard and much of his info comes from the records of those who participated.  Letters, diaries, official logbooks, are quoted in a manner that brings us close to the action.  And there is action aplenty.  I think as many attacks as possible have been recorded, the men involved, their individual response, their terror, their ship sinking, the salvation attempts, some of which are fantastic, the firing at aircraft and seeking submarines, and the effects of constant stress over several days with little food and less sleep.  You are made to feel you are part of the operation while reading the book.  

Some details are given regarding the part played by men after the convoy arrived.  Not all were rewarded, some court martialled, others faults 'forgotten.'  Like so many other men, they fought a war, took part in exciting action, and after 1945 those who survived and had no great promotions had no choice but to 'just get on with it' like thousands of others. 

I recommend this book.