'Mosquito,' by Rowland White

 

The joy of books means I can sit here, or in my usual reading place, and go around the world. This is especially true when the book is fast paced, holds attention, and leaves me desperate to know what is over the page. 

From my tea mug I have braved the Antarctic winds, and that not long after seeking the north West passage in the Arctic.  I have walked across burning deserts, accompanied by camels, I have been in the deepest Congo jungle seeking strange phenomena, which turned out to be a hoax.  I have travelled by train across China, South America, climbing Indian mountains, and the Australian outback.  The best of all this is however, fighting the enemy in damp, deep Great War trenches or flying Lancaster bombers across Berlin under fire, and at no time suffering from anti-aircraft fire.  

Now, I have just returned from several low flights across enemy held territory, bombing prisons to aid resistance fighters escape, help the advance of Montgomery's forces after D-Day, and at the end a long, dangerous flight to Copenhagen to bomb the Shellhus,' which was being used by the Gestapo as a kind of hotel for resistance workers.  

I returned safely once again.

'Mosquito,' is an excellent book concerning the creation of Geoffrey de Havilland.  An aircraft designer of special talent.  The book describes the design, the creation, the manufacture, often by small groups of people in small rooms gluing things together, and the opposition from the high level air force types that knew it would not work.  Even the best require some push to get going.  

'Mosquito' then covers the effect this speedy aircraft had on the enemy below.  Fast, well armed, used for a variety of purposes by the RAF and USAAF, flown by men from all Empire nations as well as Yanks, and feared by the Germans until the arrival of the 262 Fighter Jet in 1944, the only plane to catch up with it.  

Concentrating on the low level attacks, the book places us in the cockpit on the long flight over the North Sea towards Jutland as they prepare carefully to attack Copenhagen's Shellhus in the midst of the city, and that at lunchtime.  This is the best chapter as the writer takes you into the cab as the low flight causes hindrances from the sea and birdlife.  

After the war the leading crews meet the survivors in the city, including parents who lost their children when the school is hit.  These parents calmed the flyers, not the other way round!  

I was irked by one or two things.  The over dramatic way we are led into the next chapter, I just kept shouting 'Get on with it!'  And the constant reference to Ted Sismore as the 'young navigator.'  The condescending note here concerning a man who received the highest number of awards for any navigator during the war was unacceptable.  Men of a certain age have a habit, a needless habit, of referring to young talented men in this manner.  

Ted Sismore went on 130 operations in various bombers, leading the squadrons as they headed into unknown waters, against heavily defended areas, and survived and completed many years in the RAF after the war.  Not all survived however.  In spite of the speed of the aircraft accidents and enemy fire took their toll and not all returned after a raid.

This book helps us to remember them and what these airmen accomplished during the war.

This book is well worth a read.

Lancaster by John Nichol

This is a good book!

I was unsure about buying it, but I had to use the book voucher from last year and only two books in that shop were worth having.  An unusual voucher in that few shops accepted it!  Only W. H. Smiths did, but only senior staff knew about this!  Tsk!

Having dumped it aside while I vegetated it was a while before I opened the book.  Having done so I read it through in a very short time.  John Nichol is not the greatest writer, but having been shot down over Iraq himself he understands something of the mindset of the men he quotes freely throughout the book.

We read something of the needs of the day, the war was in full flow and a need for a heavier bomber than what was available was noted.  A plane called the 'Manchester,' flying on two engines was designed.  This was underpowered and ineffective.   One Roy Chadwick and his associates fought through the red tape and official obstructions to produce the improved version of the 'Manchester.'  After much fighting the four engined 'Lancaster' was born!  This powerful beast, much loved by those who flew it, became the backbone of RAF 'Bomber Command,' in the fight against Nazi Germany.

Using personnel stories of the men who flew these aircraft John Nichol takes us through the building of the aircraft, thousands of high quality pieces, many made by women workers, the conditions in the factories, the relationships good and bad, and then the actual tales of combat.

Skilfully integrating individuals stories regarding the team of seven men aboard the aircraft, and on one occasion one woman, a friend of the pilot, who was stowed away on board, once!   We read of the preparation, instruction, ground crews who worked tirelessly on the aircraft, flights to the destination and the bombing of targets.  

The author is very good at making you feel part of the operation.  Memories from those who were there describing the appearance of a burning city, the flak from the ground attempting to kill them, the searchlights seeking them, and the desperate manoeuvring to avoid them.  All through this the steady, quiet voice of the bomb aimer as he sought precision to drop the bombs.  If he missed you came back the next day and tried again, this was not popular.  'Bombs Gone!' the plane lifts several feet into the air, a photograph is taken, and then the escape, at high speed, out of the flak area.  This meant heading for home, avoiding ground flak and Luftwaffe fighters on the way.  Sometimes the plane had been hit, an engine dead, flaps broken, and then the lower altitude as you struggled for the Channel and home.

Not all succeeded.  

A fully loaded Lancaster hit before dropping the bombs could explode killing all aboard.  Others would fail to make the coast, men dropping from the, often burning aircraft, forced to leave behind wounded colleagues, and then try to avoid capture on the ground.  Here, whether in France or Netherlands, the populace would do their best to aid fallen airmen.  However, it was not easy, had they been caught they could all be in a concentration camp and dealt with.  Inevitably, though aided, the men found themselves in POW camps.

One such was Cy Grant, one of 500 or more West Indians who served with the RAF during this time.  He was aided in the Netherlands but there was no choice but to hand him over.  Cy was in the camp made famous by the 'Great Escape,' though he did not take part, a black man would stand out in German held Poland at the time.  Several West Indian men are featured in the book, no racism was recorded, indeed the RAF strongly opposed this.  Only one US airman from the deep south made any comment, and he did not get far.  

This book covers the daily experience of men in action, the sleeping arrangements, the women, the pubs, the fact that death and the lost were never mentioned again.  Young men, rarely over 25, flew 30 'ops' before they could be relieved.  Many never made it, the chances of succeeding were low.  Cy Grant, as a Navigator, was part of a 'Wellington' crew who survived their 30 'ops' intact, the only crew on 'Wellingtons' to do so.  He then volunteered for Lancs!  

Some lives are continued into the end of the war and the rebuilding afterwards.  No-one wished to know their story.  All were rebuilding their life, many had even worse experiences in Army and Navy, and the joy of life, family and future lay ahead.  But the war left nightmares and a desire to find those who had fallen, to visit graves, and meet those who rescued them long years before.  This book covers all this well.

Fighting a war is hard, humans are expendable, even to the most careful General.  This book covers the hardship of war and the human reaction to it, and the life afterwards.   I recommend it.

@Bob Herriott

        

King, WW2 and Rolls, What else is Required?

 

You will be as delighted as I am to read that Prince Louis will be attending the coronation alongside George and Charlotte. whoever they are.  My heart leapt at this news, didn't yours?  

No?  I am not surprised.  

This is just another 'Daily Mail' story ignoring the real problems in the UK and pandering to royalists everywhere.  Their Tory lies have not convinced anyone so talk about something that distracts the readers is the usual way.  So, the 'Online Mail' fills the top of the page with tripe like this.

A serious point has to be made however.  Charles, they say, (always 'they' whoever 'they' are) wanted a 'cut down' coronation.  So who decided to make it a bog occasion, Holiday, long weekend, pubs open late, and all that?  Surely this was a government desire to blind the population to their faults, if indeed they are still in office come the day.

Surely if the monarch wishes to be popular he would avoid spending millions on an event in times of cost-cutting?  Surely he would be avoiding large gatherings and seek a cheap coronation?  Now, after fifty years awaiting his enthronement I can understand Charles wishes to have his big day, but consider the effects on the public.  

In Scotland support for the monarchy is falling, 36% were in favour, if I remember the last poll correctly, 45% against.  So a third of the country is for a monarch, mostly Tories and Rangers fans, and an ever growing number wish to lose royalty.  This in a nation where the monarch was known to wander the pathways around Balmoral freely, accompanied only by a security man and rarely recognised, and usually ignored by the public.  A friend of mine walking there one day met Camilla and her guard wandering the hills.  They chatted amiably and went on.  This ought to continue whatever the decision, but for Charles to ignore, or not be made aware of the publics view is a mistake.  

There is also the question of the Stone of Scone (pronounced 'Scoon') now kept in Edinburgh Castle.  On this stone the King of Scots is crowned, and until now it has been placed under the coronation chair in Westminster Abbey.  Stolen by Edward I the brutal imperialist English king in 1296 during one of his failed invasions, and removed to London where it was imprisoned until returned by a desperate London government seeking to stop Scottish Nationalism in 1996.  That failed.  The question now is, ought the stone to remain in Edinburgh?  Should Charles be forced to come to Scone Abbey and be crowned 'King of Scots' there?  I wonder if the new First Minister has the guts to ask this question?

I doubt it.

You can tell it is a Saturday simply by looking at the 'Online Mail.'  Every Saturday without fail we find a Second World War story, this time one featuring Plaszow Concentration Camp, an unruly, lawless place, even by Nazi standards.  This story tells us off a violent man who allowed the power to go to his head, and the survivor who sought him out after the war and had him brought to justice.

Now the tale is not pretty, but the tale is not important.  What is important is to remind the reader that 'They are British,' and that 'We won the war,' and allow them to sink into the Brexit dream of imperialist greatness that would make Edward I jealous.  The facts of the war matter not, most of the readers were not born during the war, it is the 'British Flag Waving' that counts.  As indeed does the coronation story at the top of the 'Mail Online' page.  

Journalism, who needs it? 

There has been a bit off a hoo-hah in the press because a Glasgow company, 'Morton's Bakers,' has ceased to exist.  This Bakers has become famous in the west of Scotland for providing the morning roll so beloved by Scots, especially on a Sunday morning!   While this is sad news for Glaswegians it kind of surprised me as in Edinburgh it was more normal on Sunday mornings to walk to the local bakers shop for rolls and then gather the newspapers from the nearby newsagent.  It is to be hoped the clever people in the house already had bacon, eggs or square sausage available for the rolls, or there would be trouble!  As far as I know this is still normal procedure for many.  Huge bakeries may supply rolls to supermarkets and large shops, but the rolls from the local baker are always the best in the world.  All over Scotland small bakers can be found hard at work at a Saturday midnight as they prepare the requirements for the morning.  In times past, when I was walking home, too late for a bus, to cheap for a taxi, I often made my way through Stockbridge.  Just after passing Royal Circus on the right hand side were a row of shops.  Amongst them there was a small bakers shop hard at work, and on a quiet, late summer night the fragrance of the bakers work filled the air all around.  Marvellous!  I remain unconvinced such wee bakers can survive with large supermarkets around but surely many do.  There is nothing better than entering such a shop, being served by a 16 year old (if that) on her first job, possibly buying a 'snowball' or two, and maybe a couple of 'Fly Cemeteries' for later.  Now, we have a large 'Greggs' in this town but there is no way I would buy in that shop (I use Tesco) if there was a suitable bakers nearby.  Sadly this area does not possess one such wee baker.

However, for the hungry, I have found a suitable recipe for those able and willing to learn how to eat properly.  Scottish Scran  Go read and learn how to eat properly!

A War Story

Wood's book is one of a number of local history books that have been appearing over the last 20 years or so.   This is one of a number of books from 'The History Press,' that look likely to be worth a read.  This is one of a number that concentrate on the History of Essex and the locals involved in recent past times

The subject of the book is born just before the war breaks out.  His Jewish grandparents came from the east trying to escape pogroms there.  Based in London the family are moved to Basildon, a small hamlet in Essex just outside London, not far from Southend.  As the war progressed the young lad and his mum remained in accommodation supplied by a 'friend' called JL.  This came through his two aunts, women who would enjoy life during war with the number of men available at the time.  JL was what is referred to these days as a 'wide Boy,' one with his hands in every opportunity and not all were as honest as they appeared.  However, he had accommodation the family could make use of while heir home in London endured the 'Blitz.'  David's dad travelled into work, finding a new workshop close to a few more 'wide boys' and 'east end' types.  This while the 'Black Market' was about to get into swing during rationing.

The tale concerns the boy David growing up from a 5 year old until his 11 Plus at the end of the war.  Not all children suffered during ww2, many indeed enjoyed it.  There are a huge number of interesting people and objects that come into the hands of many a youth during such times.  This author was to mostly enjoy his time as scary experiences were rare.

Written well by a man who is not an author, the life lived as a child, but told as an adult looking back on a war, now knowing so much more about the war than possible at the time, is interesting.  Information was not easy to obtain, except via the press or 'Pathe' or 'Gaumont' newsreels at the cinema.  While the propaganda was to be seen there is no doubt the UK knew more about the war than any German would know, unless he tuned to the BBC secretly.  

The houses, the friends, the Black market, even German POWs are encountered.  His aunts behaviour left him somewhat bemused at the time, and when able to visit the towns around his mother dragged him along window shopping!  How tedious for a boy!   

Anyone familiar with Basildon today would not recognise the place, now a modern 1950s town.  The area has changed, the boy has grown, and written a decent short book covering his childhood, a better childhood than many today!

Remembrance Today

At two in the almost sunny Sunday afternoon the congregation gathered to pay their respects to the war dead.  Amongst them were many men, and a few women, who endured active service and saw their colleagues and friends suffer and sometimes die in action.

Before 1914 the wars Britain became involved in were far from home.  Colonial wars, Crimea, South Africa, and early in the 19th century fighting Napoleon in Portugal and Spain, before the end at Waterloo.  The public were not concerned much apart from the shortage of some goods, such as Brandy during Napoleon's time, and anyway smuggling was popular.  Soldiers travelled the world, fought and died far from home, as sailors had done for generations.  The public were involved only at a distance.

For many years people had realised war with Germany was likely.  Patriotism was at a high, even though History was badly taught, and the wide spread of newspapers, from which most people were informed, were at best propaganda, and at worst deliberately false.  

Being a soldier was a respectable occupation.  Since the middle of the 19th century the military mind affected all parts of society, so much so that William Booth's outreach in the east end of London took the name 'Salvation Army,' and not long afterwards the copycats at the Anglican church joined in with the 'Church Army.'   

The army had been reformed under the Haldane reorganisation, led by General Haig.  Now we had 25 Front Line regiments, of two battalions each.  One was stationed at home, the other abroad.  Also the various militia were reformed into the Territorial Force, ostensibly for Home Defence only.  These did however, allow men to play soldiers, learn the basics of warfare, and, in a time of few holidays, gave them suitable exercise at weekends and on general annual manoeuvres.  With a possible war looming did some men enlist in the Territorials in preparation for this?  

As any General knows, you plan for a war, prepare carefully, train your men, and off you go, and watch your plan disintegrate in the resulting stramash.  All things change once war is entered upon.  The UK found this to be true in 1914.  British opinion was led to expect a short war, a few months only they said.  This was considered likely elsewhere, even the Kaiser believed his men would be home by Christmas.  It was easy to forget that the Boer War, such a short time before, had taken some four years before it ended.  How dismayed were the politicians at the first war Cabinet meeting when Field Marshall Kitchener informed them the war would take at least three years and he must raise another hundred thousand men.  They did not believe him! The Generals understood what could happen if a war of movement was halted, no politician appears to have considered this a possibility. Nonetheless, when war was declared on August 4th men everywhere rushed to the colours, many afraid they would miss the excitement.

Come November 1918 opinions differed somewhat from the days of early excitement.  The surviving men who volunteered then were not the same men in 1918.  The world had changed, the war had been won, something people often forget, but at a great cost, both 'at the front,' and 'at home.'

The most reliable figures I have come across tell me that 704,803 men died in action.  Of these some 338,955 are as yet undiscovered or unidentified.  It is from this great loss that 'remembrance' as we know it springs.

The question "What to do with the bodies," caused much wringing of hands and cursing throughout the land.  Some people, at least those with money, broke the law and brought back their own loved ones, their 'heroes,' rather than follow the final decision to bury men where they fell.  Outrage abundant.  Bodies were collected, I think those doing the job, many soldiers themselves or often Chinese labourers, were paid six shillings a d ay for the often gruesome work.  Scattered bodies, small cemeteries, were collected together in large organised places near where they fell.  These today, run by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, are peaceful well tended resting places revealing nothing of the conflict that caused their creation.  

In the UK however, many did not have a place in which to commemorate their dead.  So by the middle of the 1920s local war memorials sprang up everywhere.  Large cities and towns created often huge memorials, local towns and villages did their best, even if it was just a plaque in a church.  On these were graven the names of the dead, alongside slogans such as 'Our Glorious Dead,' 'Not Forgotten,' 'They Died so we could be Free,' and the names of battlefields they fought over, 'Mons, Ypres, Loos, Somme, Cambrai, Passchendaele.'  A glance at such memorials tells much about the town or village where they are found, and the great cost to the population of the time.  

The return and burial in Westminster Cathedral of the 'Unknown Warrior' in 1920 was much heralded by many.  Women especially believed, some through dreams and visions, that this was their husband, son, brother.  Thousands lined the streets as he was paraded through the city.

At the same time a Cenotaph, made from wood, was erected in Whitehall.  The empty tomb lying at the top symbolising the missing.  This idea, copied from the ancient Greek fashion, was highly popular and within a year a more solid cenotaph, made I think of Portland Stone, was erected.

As the memorials closer to home began to appear in city, town and village, the locals turned out to 'remember' their was dead.  Many an Honour Guard on duty at the opening or remembrance ceremonies could well remember and speak of the situation of those named on the memorial.  Often not willing to discuss this publicly in front of the families.  Many names were of course their brothers.

Occasionally in the following years some were able to travel to distant parts to stand alongside their dead.  The majority however, were struggling to survive themselves without the 'Homes made for heroes,' that had been promised.  Thousands of ex-servicemen, especially the wounded, were more or less abandoned to their fate.  

The wives, mothers, children of the dead, and possibly those who so eagerly encouraged enlistment in their locale, now had a place where they could annually remember the sacrifice of their own.  An event continued until their own passing.

 Flanders Fields are at the right time ablaze with red poppies.  During the 1920s the idea began in Canada to commemorate the war dead by the wearing of a red poppy each year.  The idea carried on and now is controlled by the 'British Legion,' (In Scotland 'Poppy Scotland.') and is used to raise money to support their work with wounded servicemen.  It remains highly popular, and while some refuse to wear them, others have designed white, blue or black, poppies for reasons of their own, the Poppy is worn by the majority of the population during the two weeks up to the Remembrance Day on November 11th.  

It is something of a shame that it has been highjacked by many for reasons of their own.  Some consider it encourages or supports war, others, mostly the English Brexit fraternity have taken to it in a big way.  This is not to commemorate or remember, for them it reflects a historic past in which 'England' (not Britain) ruled the world.  A society that has seen Irish independence, Scots nearing independence and has nothing of note within itself bar a failed Brexit, desperately uses anything, the poppy included, to give meaning to their lives.        

There are questions these days regarding the meaning of remembrance.  Many voices are heard today claiming 'it was so long ago,' and people who served are now dying off.  "What is the point?"  Such people need to understand how History affects them today as they themselves are a product of these two great conflagrations that rocked the world.  As it is, in the crowd gathered at this memorial were many who knew an uncle or father who left to join the war in the 1940s.  Others have researched their family tree to find out more about grandad or great grandad and his war record.  Relatives of the dead still gather, remembering stories told by aunts and uncles re the one who did not return.  In spite of the time people still remember.  Indeed, since 2014 many more have taken thought to the war dead, and more so when they have relatives who have served, and sometimes died, in one of the UKs more recent actions, Iraq, Afghanistan, or at the 40th centenary of the Falklands Conflict.  The war dead are not just dead in the (to some) distant past, they are family and friends of many gathered at memorials on Sunday.  The two world wars affected each of us living today, at least indirectly, the lesser wars, which will continue until the next global one, affect many of us daily.  We would be foolish to forget those we have lost.

November 11th 2022

 

As always a two minutes silence is held at 11 am today.  Many, but not all, throughout the nation stopped for two minutes to 'remember.'  I dug out some photos of graves of local men, this one, Fred Bonner, he lies buried in the town cemetery.  He was wounded during December 1916 and landed in hospital in Huddersfield.  You were sent to any hospital that could take you at that time.  During February he developed Blood Poisoning, quite common at the time, there was no Penicillin until later, and died aged a mere 20 years.  

It is strange that when you are 20 you consider yourself a man, when you are somewhat older you consider being 20 very young.  A very young age to die.  It has however, always been the way that soldiers, from time immemorial, have ranged from 18 - 25 years of age.  Certainly many fight on for many years, little option for most, I think the Greek states consider you military age when between 18 and 60, and everyone had to enlist.  But 20 is a young age to die, especially slowly and in pain.  Fred was buried, surrounded by friends and family near home.  His brother also died.

Where is Jesus when there is a war on?

He is right there in the middle of it!

Jesus warned that 'Wars and rumours of wars' would continue, God is well aware of the sin in this world that allow such things.  We all know where it comes from, our human nature!  We all possess the same fallen nature.  Only the death and resurrection of Jesus can save us from this.

Two major wars, many, many other was since then, several still ongoing today, Ukraine, Syria, Democratic Congo, Cameroon, and other wars small and large awaiting their opportunity.  Maybe we ought to cease asking "Where is God in war?" and just give him thanks that without his Holy Spirits control things would be a great deal worse for us all.

Hitler's First War

This is an interesting look at Adolf Hitler's Great War.  

It is important in that little is actually known about the soon to be Chancellor's war experiences.  Partly this was because Adolf ensured much was hidden or destroyed, and others did not wish to be involved, certainly after Adolf's second war.  

The author has researched widely, seeking official documents where they survive, memoirs written before the Nazis came to power, letters, photographs and occasional interviews, all the usual, often hard to find, records that open up the background to any individual.

We all know Hitler was Austrian, we all know he managed to get himself into the German army during 1914, and we all know something of his family past.  This book goes some way to explain his role during the Great war from August 1914 until he was demobbed after the war.  We knew he served but had few details of what he actually did, whom he served with, and we also get some idea of what his officers saw in him.

Hitler enlisted in the 16th Bavarian Reserve Infantry Regiment (RIR 16), as in the manner of the Great War such regiments took their officers name, or the name of the man who originated such a regiment.  The 16th were named the 'List' regiment after Julius von List their commanding officer who was to die in action at Ypres.

Germany then as now is a federated state, a mass of small Germanic states working, in theory, together as Germany.  However, the Bavarians looked to their own monarchy rather than Kaiser Wilhelm for a lead, as I suspect other similar regiments throughout the nation did also.  

After basic training, some say very basic training, the regiment eventually found itself at war at Gheluvelt, part of the 1st Battle of Ypres.  This was a terrible battle, leaving Hitler's Regiment with 725 dead after the few days fight.  Once withdrawn however life changed for our Adolf.  With the casualties promotions were given out to replace the lost, and Adolf was transferred to a place of relative safety, Regimental HQ and classed as a despatch runner.  

Runners did indeed have a difficult and dangerous life, however, the German regimental runner was based almost two miles behind the line and his messages were deposited at the HQs of each individual Company.  From there the Company runner would take messages into the trenches whatever the conditions, while the regimental runner went back home to relative safety and warmth.  

In short, the danger of front line warfare never again affected Adolf Hitler, he remained where he felt at home, and in almost, perfect safety.  Certainly there were dangers from long range shells, machine gun and occasional rifle bullets, but the danger was considerably less than that of the company runner in the front line trench!  His front line service was a mainstay of his claim on others throughout his rise to power, and indeed a constant talking point until his death.  

Hitler did receive one wound in the leg from shrapnel from a shell that landed close by, he was in a dugout at the time.  Long after the war, a one time comrade wrote that this cost him a testicle, however, that author has been dismissed by most Historians as unreliable.  His work is confusing, often wrong, and as a man with criminal tendencies he is not a good source.  Likewise those who claim a degree of homosexual activity from Adolf and one of the other runners, this too appears nonsense.  

The author of this book goes into some detail as to Adolf's enjoyment among the company of despatch runners.  Not only comparatively safe but also this took the place of a family for him, and interestingly he never wrote home to any relative during his time in the war.  This company of comrades certainly appear to have left an impression upon him, an impression that added much to his organisation of the Nazi party years later.  

Hitler served his time, earning mostly support from his superiors, and indeed an Iron Cross 1st Class, recommended by a Jewish officer!  While many Jews did indeed serve in the regiment there appears to be no trace of anti-Semitism in the army at this time, certainly none from Adolf.

After the war Hitler joined with the Red Revolutionaries who took over Munich for six months.  This was something he appears to have almost scrubbed from history, certainly he never mentioned this to anyone.  Author Thomas Weber inclines to the view Adolf had no real politics at the time but was looking to a group that would be nationalistic and classless, and soon both Communist and Fascist groups would offer this.  

Working for an old army friend he came across the German Workers Party, and here he once again found a home.  The Weimar years were not good to a man who had decided a one party state was the answer for the nation, wealth and democracy obscured his hopes.  However, the great crash of 1929 soon left Germany devastated, a situation which politicians with easy answers and clear enemies can take power.  The party, now with National Socialist attached to the name, made inroads with a hungry population.  By 1933 when Hitler took control, to the surprise of many army men who knew him, the despatch runner was a life saver, to others a danger.  

The 20s and 30s were not a great time for Europe, Germany suffered greatly, Hitler soon offered a way of escape and huge numbers hoped for a better time through him, few were actual Nazis, and ever fewer understood he wished to create another war and even demolish the Soviet Union.

The research in this book is extensive and a great effort has been made to seek sources and investigate the findings.  Since 1945 much has been destroyed, many have refused to speak, or indeed consider what they were doing at the time, but the author does give us a clue as to Adolf's growing political outlook, his many, many lies and misuse of facts, even in his letters when at 1st Ypres, he was born an exaggerating liar, and by the way we get an inside into what makes people obey a leader who goes bad.  That alone is worth knowing today!

Published in 2011 the book is well worth a read.  Especially when obtained free on Amazon gift cards! For those interested in this subject it is well worth a go.

Remembrance or Obsession Plus Time Drifting Away

 

                                         Sgt Jez Doak RAF?MOD

I often wonder about people who study the Great War.  

On my Twitter feed there are many, apparently normal, men who spend an enormous amount of time visiting war graves to 'pay their respects.'  On occasion I begin to wonder if these men are trapped in a war fantasy.  I quite understand the desire to know more about the two major wars, individual stories and actions, I see the interest there clearly.  However, it appears to me something is not quite right.  Many such men are living near the Great War Battlefields in France and Flanders, just up from their homes lie several war cemeteries, and during good years they often act as guides to the areas of action, relating stories learnt over many years and often from ex-servicemen themselves.  

But I sometimes wonder if they lack something in their lives?

Men require something they can attach themselves to.  Many spend an enormous amount of time reading ancient railway timetables, others visit war graves, still others rebuild ancient cars or motorbikes, some are 'Star Wars' fantasists, some support a local football team, all fine and respectable activities, although those that have wives, and not all do, may find the women have differing opinions to them.  Women, for reasons of their own may not like a house disguised as a railway station, or a football museum.  Some go to far and yell and scream when the engine of the BSA 250 is found in bits on her best tablecover, or yet again the young nephew is being regaled, willingly or not, about the 'Retreat from Mons' for the umpteenth time.  

Women are strange.

Why do men require such obsessions?  

I suppose they could become obsessed with drink or drugs, neither of which do much good in the long term, a gardening obsession could at least feed you and fill the house with attractive flowers, and the accompanying beasties.  Other obsessions could be found which may not please the wife nor be so useful.  

I wonder about men who spend their time 'paying respects' at war graves.  I appreciate remembrance from most people, I wonder about it with such men however.  Some may well have been in the forces, others have no war experience.  

It just makes me wonder if they really comprehend the individuals whom they stand before.  Do they think dead servicemen are greater than men around them today?  If so they clearly do not understand the men involved.  These were ordinary men of their day, just like those around them now, not 'Heroes' for the most part, certainly not the 'Best Generation' as the gutter press would have it, these were just men forced into a Great War, their sons forced into the second war, often without ever knowing their fathers.  Good men, often producing heroic actions, bad men, living off everyone around them and committing war crimes, most men, just responding in a good or bad manner to the situation trapping them.  Some enjoyed war, some hated it, especially those who got hurt, some profited from their time, others lost much.  But do these men standing at their graves really see the real man under the slab?

Just what does drive them to 'pay respects' so often in this way?  We all pay respects at least once a year, what causes this reaction, annually, monthly weekly even daily with such men?  An obsession with war that is in their minds or an understanding of the real thing?  

Also, if they respect the dead like this do they also consider the wounded of recent wars?  Those suffering PTSD and all too often committing suicide months or years after serving?  It is easier to remember the long dead than the suffering living today.

My knackered bodies day was complete as when leaving Tesco I got caught in a downpour.  Forgetting to eat last night turns out not to have been a good idea.  Carrying a bag full of veg (how come it was so heavy?) did not appeal either.  Lockdown has not helped my fitness.  

Standing puffing under a tree, many were doing this while the rain hammered down, I glanced at the back door of the 'Subway' opposite.  I was interested in the year '1902' with initials vaguely seen high up, as people sometimes argue about when this row of shops appeared.  However it took a moment or two before I realised the TV seen opposite that made me wonder again was in fact part of the air control system in the shop.  At least I think it is.  No matter how smart a shop may look from the front it is always worth a look round the rear, an impressive image of a business can be gleamed this way.

 

 

Who is stealing time?  

I arose at 7:22 this morning, slowly as normal, yet within minutes this clock claimed it was 10:22!

This does not make sense to me.

After the Tesco trip I found time to eat sausage rolls and drink tea, next thing it was 4:22!

Who keeps stealing the time?

Now I have time to myself I note it is almost 7pm, what is going on?

Worse than this is the calendar.

The other day it was early March, today is the 25th of May!  

What happened in between?  Who stole the days?

Time is rushing past just to fast for some of us.  When will it stop?

 

VE-Day and Alex

I find it a little strange that those posting on Twitter re the end of the Second World War talk as if this is something people know little about.  They speak of the war as if it were distant History.  For many it appears to be just that, something from the far past, yet to me it is part of my life, and I was not even there when it occurred!

The generation gap over the past 80 or so years is quite noticeable today.  A 19 year-old in 1945 would be 95 years today, unless the cigarettes so freely donated at the time have got to him first.  His children, if any, would be in their 60's and 70's, and they with children and grandchildren and possibly great grandchildren themselves.  A very likely situation in parts of Essex I can tell you!  There is a wide variation in understanding between the five generations.  Good grief, my dad could not comprehend the 1960's, though cancer did not help his understanding, how can the younger generation today understand the war.  'The War,' so many adults talk about, reading almost daily in the gutter press memento's of days they did not see.  The attitudes, an understanding of life, has changed considerably, but not for the better, in so many ways.  Many economic improvements can be seen, but moral ones disappear rapidly. I suppose we call this 'freedom,' though the results are rarely magnified by the 'free press' who encourage such 'freedom.'

Few will notice VE Day today, the election has seen to that, and of course attention has been averted to the ongoing 'War with France' occuring in the Channel Islands, even though the 'war' does not exist.  I am told French and Royal Naval vessels fill the Forth of Forth at the moment on combined exercises, I am not sure how this affects Boris's 'War.'  Schools do tend to offer reasonable history concerning the two wars, the museum had many primary classes attending for that purpose alone, so while not ignorant of the event how can people under 60 comprehend the war and the after effects today?

 

Sadly the ALBA Party has not done well in the elections.  I suspect two reasons for this.  

The first is the deliberate decision by the media to ignore Alex.  Clearly the best politician in the land and as a danger to the rest he has been blocked from transmission, and therefore ignored by the pubic.  

The other reason is the deliberate and calculated smear campaign waged by Nicola and her acolytes.  In spite of being cleared by a female judge and mostly female jury and awarded £500,000 the smear was continued throughout. The result was Nocola's women came out and voted SNP.  Nicola makes a point of appealing to women, always claiming to be on their side, offering many opportunities for women.  Men are clearly seen as bad, and this appeals to many of today's 'women.'  As a result she keeps her job.  Well done Nicola.  

So for the time being Alex and his many followers are out in the cold.  They will be back, especially when it becomes clear Nicola does not wish for Indy after all, the many and varied excuses to 'wait' are already being offered by her people.  Alex would not agree.   

 

Spam Meet

 

 

Last night was our SPAM meeting.  'SPAM' being the St Paul's mens meeting.  A chance to escape the women and talk freely.  Being Locked Down we had to meet on Zoom, this is not the best way to meet but it had to do.  Eight noble men met happily together, until it was discovered two wives were in attendance just out of the picture, plus one who kept bursting in accidentally!  These women cannot be trusted can they?  Or is it the men they canny trust, I wonder?

The discussion ranged wild and free, especially as the whisky took hold.  I myself indicated I was only drinking water.  "What proof is that?" came a voice, "37:5," came the answer...  It is good to see faces you have not seen for a year, not the easiest way to do it, but all that we have and we just got on with it.

The meeting broke up at 9:30 when the wives arrived to take everybody home.

 

However, after this I cogitated on 'Spam.'   I mean, as kids we ate Spam Fritters often, and it appeared to me at the time to be food.  I tried some a wee while ago and could not in any way find a connection between 'spam' and foodstuff.  It tasted, er, unusual.  Maybe it was the make, maybe it was me, but how on earth did we survive this?  And the stuff still sells as a quick look at any shop shelf will show.  Created in 1837 when an American company had too much Pork Shoulder to cry on.  He mixed this with Ham and cooked it in the can, I did not seek to know how, and made millions!  Having begun in time for the war he sent billions of cans to feed the US army, billions to the UK to feed everyone there, and billions of cane elsewhere, even the Soviet Union got them.  There is no doubt that he made money but saved many lives, and a few taste buds then.  

 

 

Of course the real reason people turned to Spam during the war was the vast amount of Corned Beef, 'Bully Beef' that was forced down the throat.  Spam arriving in 1941 tasted of something, constant corned beef does not.  There again I suspect constant Spam will soon become a bore but with little meat of any sort available during war, not counting the 'Black Market,' then Spam was a treat.  

I found this reference: "Paul Theroux, in his book 'The Happy Isles of Oceania,' seems to claim that Spam was popular in countries that used to have cannibalism because it tasted like human flesh."  Does any one have any idea if this is so?  If you do, how do you know, and please keep your distance?

 

War, BBC and Sounds.

BBC

Eighty years ago today Neville Chamberlain informed the nation that "This country is now at war with Germany." Listen here.

Many inform us that Chamberlain was quite successful as a chancellor of the exchequer during the 1930's.  While they attack his appeasement policy towards Adolf Hitler they accept that he also introduced money to pay for both a Fighter Defence and a Bomber Command.  Money was also found to strengthen the Royal Navy and yet he failed to provide monies for the army, possibly that was sensible as the British Army in 1939 still appeared willing to fight the last war and had not developed modern strategy or tactics.  

Chamberlain's great failure however was less his appeasement rather than his failure to understand Hitler.  Adolf just wanted to win the last war, his whole policy was to take over the land mass to the east and enslave any who opposed him, Neville never understood this.  Neville also had been successful and this many say led to his belief that he alone could bring the world situation to a peaceful conclusion.  His arrogance would have been worthwhile had he understood his enemy, he did not.

By 1938 Chamberlain was beginning to understand his failure.  The merging of Germany and Austria, the invasion of Czechoslovakia and the threat to Poland brought home his failure.  He did however have the courage to stand up to Adolf in the end and threaten war if the Germans did not leave Poland, a coward would not have done this!  

So early on a Sunday morning, some churches rigging up wireless sets so the congregation could listen, the British state heard Chamberlains words.  Nobody rejoiced, no flags waved, all understood the situation and were aware of the cost.  

In Germany few rejoiced, indeed the Nazi leaders gathered together to listen to this news and afterwards silence reigned.  Goebbels turned to von Ribbentrop and snarled "Now what!"  Teamwork and shared responsibility was not a Nazi virtue.

 

Such a major event in a life, and participating in a war that is won is about as major as is possible, leaves an affect on an individual and a nation.  The UK still carries the success as well as the aftermath of the second world war.  The aftermath saw an improving society, better housing, the NHS, schools, education for all and improved laws in the work place.  The memory of the war was ever with those who fought or came afterwards.  As the empire died the boast of a great past increased!  Today, as a small nation stronger in the EU than alone, many wish to return to that past. However the past has gone and the UK cannot survive alone.  The war has influenced many to vote for leaving the EU as they reach for an imaginary past, most who do so were not born in the war and never saw the suffering caused.  Interestingly those who now lead the Leave campaign care little for the war and never mention it, they care for position, fame and vast fortune as they line their pockets while subjecting the nation to austerity.  

The soon coming election, based on Boris's promises of money for education, NHS and everyone else, all too soon to be false, will fool many who wish to be fooled.  The opposition, is there one? will offer similar lies also unfounded.

Looking at all this maybe it would be good if the EU did go to war with the UK, well England at least, and send their bombers over here once again.  England deserves that!

BBC Sounds

     
So I woke this morning and stumbled through to sit at my desk staring into space until I woke enough to have breakfast.  I looked for Radio 3 to find some noise and discovered that 'the page is missing' and was redirected to BBC Sounds the new, expensive and absurd replacement for the popular and efficient iPlayer.
Why?
What sort of con is this that my link is sabotaged for the sake of the shockingly poor 'Sounds' mistake?  They say £10 million was spent adjusting the iPlayer to create 'Sounds' I wish I had been consulted as I could have saved them several million. If they continue to replace my links to justify this I may be tempted to scribble a note to someone in the BBC, they will ignore it but they will notice it...
After a search I have replaced the links and hope this time it will remain untouched by BBC executives failing at their job.
As I am on I might as well mention 'The Political Butterfly Effect' which was broadcast yesterday.  This featured the phenomenon of noise in the wrong place.  It appears that talk on Radio 4 must always be accompanied by needless noise drowning out the words and hindering hearing what is said and enjoyment of decent programmes.  I realise these producers come from the 'Punk generation' but they do not have to prove it!  Yesterday we were supposed to be in the House of Commons bar so they supplied appropriate sounds thus rendering talk useless.  These drink loving producers spend an enormous time in such places so must realise that nothing can be heard in them unless your ear is up against the speaker!  Radio 3 talks do not require needless noise why so on Radio 4? 

 

Another Book!

Amazon

This is a good book!

The fact that it arrived as a birthday pressie was nothing to do with my comment, free books are better than paid for books but this is indeed a good read.

What this book is not is an entire history of the SAS, I suspect that is unlikely for some years as many operations are still regarded as secret.  It is however an authorised World War Two history compiled by access to diaries and letters and some of the men themselves.  

Ben MacIntyre is a well known military author and some of his books have featured here before.  He offers a gripping but not excitement lead tale of the origins of the SAS after Commando style operations in the Middle East failed and David Stirling came up with the idea of attacking the enemy from behind overland.  

British army officers were like soldiers everywhere reared on discipline and organisation unlikely to be keen on any idea which appeared to offer rogue soldiering which they could not control.  Major wars are of course fought between two organised armies numbering thousands of men, small groups wandering off on their own frightened many staff officers.  David Stirling, the young officer who wished to live outside the hidebound army routine was one they distrusted!  They had reason to distrust him.  

The failure of sea led attacks on German held North African ports gave opportunity for Stirling's small force to take their opportunity.  Parachuting into a storm, the pilots miles of course, many men suffering injury and what was left of the secret assault a failure it appeared life was not going to be kind to this infant group.  

However already operating in the deserts of Egypt and Libya were the Long Range Desert Group (LRDG).  These men knew the desert like taxi drivers know their towns and were used for spying on enemy movements.  This led Stirling to make use of their drivers and arrange a small force to attack enemy airfields well behind the lines destroying infastructure and hindering enemy movements.  It also required, as time past, more security and men at airfields and important points.  

Within a short time Stirling had collected an assortment of tough experienced fighters who endured strict training.  Men who could, and did, walk forty miles without drinking from their water bottles in the midday heat, men who could navigate at night, move stealthily near the enemy and when required could be ruthless.  This produced a wide section of men from a variety of nations who proved equal to the task.  Constant attacks on airfields and enemy positions upset enemy morale, especially the Italians, most of them did not wish to be in the war anyway, damaged their materiel and enabled the British and Allied forces to hinder General Rommels attacks and under British  General Montgomery eventually push them back out of north Africa altogether.

This was was considered a 'clean war' against a 'clean enemy 'the Afrika Corps.'  Men fought to the death but acts of needless murder were not encouraged.  Once they moved into Italy via Sicily things were to change.

David Stirling was by this time held as a Prisoner of War, one who constantly attempted escape, and was in the end incarcerated in Colditz Castle where he ended the war.  His force continued, now much more popular with the fighting Generals if not with those back in the far off offices.  Terrific firefights in Italy which cost many lives in horrific situations began to shape a new mentality for the SAS.  As their numbers grew so did the challenges and operating behind the lined in France before D-Day saw several SAS groups deal not just with the German army but also the more deadly SS troops.  They also had to endure the ressistance fighters who continually split into various factions and spent much time arguing with one another.  On occasions spies amongst them led to enemy action that often caught them onthe hop. 

Having gone before the army in the desert, in Italy and now in France the SAS, now featuring French and Belgian battalions and again containing people from many lands led the way into Holland and Germany.  Fierce fighting, with no back up, often occurs.  

Then in April as the war nears it's end they came across Belsen concentration camp.

This book does not glorify the actions of the SAS though it is a gripping read.  The desert tales left me with a comradeship feeling towards these men, one that all soldiers require and one that took them through their war.  I confess I would have failed the entry requirements!  No matter how strog a man considers himself the war has effects he cannot lose.  It was not different for those that survived the struggle.  Many who began in the desert did not see the wars end, others disappeared in the forests in which they hid, still others were captured and shot out of turn according to Hitler's orders to kill all commandos without mercy.  Not all German army officers were willing to give such orders.  

After the war almost all men found routine life boring.  Some settled down others unsettled lives ended in tragedy.  The mental effects of killing and seeing comrades killed has an effect on the toughest.  Some remain alive even today, many from that war remain but surely not for much longer.
The SAS were at first accepted reluctantly, after the war they were quickly disbanded and not long afterwards once again revived.  Special forces were seen as a requirement of warfare in the early 1950's and during the 'Cold War' period.  So effective were the SAS that all countries soon adopted similar groups.  The French and Belgians of course were quick to do so, other nations followed but it took the US until 1977 to for such a force. All were based on David Stirling's idea of a loose group silently and secretively operating behind the lines.  A special type of man, one who does not boast about his achievements, good or bad.
 

I found this one of those books I could not put down and was rather annoyed it ended.  That does not happen often.  Partly it was the story, war stories are exciting when the bullets are 70 or so years away from me, partly it was the excellent writing, mostly it was the feeling of comradeship that came through, comradeship in fighting a good casue in a dirty war, and in Europe the war was a dirty war, and fighting for a cause with good comrades.  My other books appear tame by comparison.

    

 David Stirling on right.