Lachhiman Gurung's story cannot be fully understood without appreciating the wider context of the Burma Campaign, one of the most demanding and least forgiving theatres of the Second World War. Fought across dense jungle, steep mountains, monsoon-soaked valleys, and primitive supply routes, the campaign pitted Allied forces against a Japanese army that had already demonstrated its ability to defeat larger, better-equipped opponents through mobility, surprise, and ferocious determination. Within this brutal environment, Gurung's stand in May 1945 represents not just individual heroism, but the culmination of years of attritional warfare in which endurance was often as decisive as firepower.

Terry Bailey explains.

An Inscription of Lachhiman Gurung VC's name on the "Memorial Gates", Constitution Hill, London. Source: Gorkha Warrior, available here.

Born in 1917 in the village of Chhimba in Nepal's Gorkha district, Lachhiman Gurung grew up in a society where military service was both an economic opportunity and a source of deep cultural pride. Gurkha soldiers had been recruited into the British Indian Army since the early nineteenth century, valued for their toughness, adaptability, and fierce regimental loyalty. Gurung enlisted in the 8th Gurkha Rifles, a regiment that had already seen extensive action in both world wars. By the time Japan entered the conflict in Southeast Asia in 1941, Gurkha units were among the most experienced light infantry forces available to the British Empire, well-suited to jungle warfare and long-range patrolling.

The Japanese invasion of Burma in 1942 had driven British and Indian forces into a humiliating retreat to India, but by 1944 the strategic balance had begun to shift. The failure of the Japanese offensives at Imphal and Kohima marked a turning point, after which Allied forces, reorganized and resupplied, began a relentless advance back into Burma. By 1945, the Japanese 15th Army and associated formations were exhausted, understrength, and increasingly isolated, yet they remained dangerous opponents. Japanese doctrine emphasized aggressive night attacks, infiltration, and the willingness of small units to fight to the death rather than withdraw. Defensive positions were often assaulted repeatedly at close quarters, with grenades, bayonets, and hand-to-hand combat playing a decisive role.

It was against this backdrop that Rifleman Lachhiman Gurung found himself holding a forward position near Taungdaw on the night of 12–13 May 1945. His battalion was engaged in clearing remaining pockets of Japanese resistance as Allied forces pushed southwards. Forward positions such as Gurung's were particularly vulnerable, often lightly manned and deliberately exposed to give early warning of enemy movement. Japanese troops, skilled at moving silently through jungle and darkness, frequently attempted to overwhelm such posts with sudden grenade attacks followed by a close assault.

During the night, a determined Japanese attack fell upon Gurung's trench, which he shared with two fellow Gurkhas. Grenades were hurled into the position in rapid succession. When one grenade landed directly among them, Gurung attempted to throw it clear, a reflexive act that likely saved the wider position even as it cost him dearly. The explosion tore off two of his fingers, shattered his right arm, and inflicted multiple wounds to his face and body. His two comrades were killed instantly. In most circumstances, such injuries would have rendered a soldier helpless, if not unconscious, but Gurung remained upright and aware, driven by a sense of duty that overrode shock and pain.

Alone in the trench and severely wounded, Gurung faced repeated Japanese assaults at extremely close range. The attacking soldiers were likely drawn from veteran infantry units accustomed to night fighting, armed with grenades, rifles, and bayonets, and prepared to press home attacks regardless of casualties. Gurung, unable to properly use his damaged arm, adapted with grim ingenuity. Using his remaining hand and his teeth, he picked up grenades and hurled them back at the attackers, while firing his weapon whenever possible. For several hours, he held his position, repelling one attack after another, despite loss of blood, exhaustion, and the knowledge that no immediate help could reach him.

By dawn, the Japanese attacks had ceased. The ground in front of Gurung's trench was strewn with enemy dead, grim evidence of the effectiveness of his solitary defense. More importantly, the position had not fallen. In the tightly interlinked defensive system of jungle warfare, the loss of a forward post could allow enemy forces to infiltrate behind the main line, threatening encirclement or collapse. Gurung's refusal to yield under such conditions almost certainly prevented further casualties among his unit and contributed directly to the success of the local operation.

The award of the Victoria Cross recognized not only the extraordinary courage displayed but also the broader military significance of Gurung's actions. His citation highlighted his "indomitable spirit" and "complete disregard for his own safety," qualities that epitomized the ideal of the Gurkha soldier. At a time when the Burma Campaign was approaching its conclusion, his story resonated strongly with Allied forces who had endured years of hardship in one of the war's harshest environments.

After surviving his wounds, Lachhiman Gurung was discharged from the army with a disability pension. He returned to Nepal, where, like many Gurkha veterans, he lived a modest life far removed from the battlefields that had defined his youth. Despite being one of the few Nepalese recipients of the Victoria Cross, he remained characteristically humble, rarely speaking about his wartime experiences unless pressed. In later years, he was honored at commemorative events and remembered with deep respect within Gurkha circles and beyond. Lachhiman Gurung died in 2004, leaving behind a legacy that stands as one of the most remarkable individual acts of bravery in the Second World War and a powerful reminder of the human endurance displayed during the long and punishing struggle for Burma.

In conclusion, Lachhiman Gurung's Victoria Cross stands not merely as an isolated testament to individual gallantry, but as a lens through which the wider human experience of the Burma Campaign can be understood. His actions on that night in May 1945 encapsulate the defining features of the conflict: the intimacy of jungle warfare, the relentless pressure exerted by an enemy unwilling to concede defeat, and the extraordinary physical and moral resilience demanded of ordinary soldiers. Gurung's stand was not fought on a grand battlefield before massed formations, but in a muddy trench, in darkness and isolation, where survival depended on instinct, courage, and an unyielding sense of responsibility to comrades and unit.

His story highlights the vital contribution of the Gurkhas to the Allied war effort in Asia. Recruited from remote hill villages and serving far from home, Gurkha soldiers endured conditions that tested the limits of human endurance, often with little public recognition at the time. Gurung's conduct exemplifies the ethos for which they were renowned: quiet professionalism, adaptability under fire, and a willingness to hold the line regardless of personal cost. In this sense, his bravery was both exceptional and representative, reflecting the collective sacrifice of thousands of Gurkha soldiers who fought and died in Burma's jungles.

Finally, Lachhiman Gurung's legacy endures because it speaks to something universal in the history of war. His courage was not rooted in ideology or personal ambition, but in loyalty, duty, and an instinctive refusal to abandon his post while others depended upon him. Decades after the guns fell silent in Burma, his story continues to remind us that the outcomes of vast campaigns are often shaped by moments of individual resolve. In remembering Lachhiman Gurung, we honor not only a single hero, but all those whose endurance and sacrifice underpinned victory in one of the Second World War's most arduous and unforgiving theatres.

 

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AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones

Here, Jeb Smith provides his take on a a book about immigration to America. He looks at Brought Forth on This Continent: Abraham Lincoln and American Immigration by Harold Holzer.

Carl Schurz was the first German born US Senator and later he was the US Secretary of the Interior.

Harold Holzer is considered one of the top Lincoln scholars, a winner of many awards, including the Lincoln Prize, the Lincoln Medal of Honor, the National Humanities Medal, the Barondess/Lincoln Award, and the Lincoln Group of New York’s Richard Nelson Current Award of Achievement. From 2010 to 2016 he served as chairman of the Lincoln Bicentennial Foundation. He is a lover, great admirer, and fan of the 16th president. He has authored, edited or co-authored over 40 books on Lincoln, of which the latest is Brought Forth on This Continent: Abraham Lincoln and American Immigration, glowingly endorsed by McPherson, Foner, and the usual suspects. In this book, Holzer’s focus is on Lincoln, immigration, and its influence on politics and the military.

Holzer writes of the massive influx of immigrants from Europe in the decades leading to the Civil War “forever upending the demography, culture, and voting patterns of the nation, especially in the teeming urban centers.”[1] These groups caused “overwhelming change” and “redefined” what it is to be American.[2] Nine out of ten immigrants lived in the North! And without their votes and military effort, the North would likely not have won the war, nor would Lincoln have been elected, as he won with only 39% of the vote. Holzer wrote, “In total, half a million of the two million white men who served in the Union armed forces were born overseas.”[3]

 

Veterans of revolutions

Many of their leaders were veterans of the socialist, communist and democratic revolutions of 1848 in Europe. These foreign revolutionaries formed German units and named them after Lincoln. Lincoln “trusted they would fight to sustain democracy in America as courageously as they once had rebelled against monarchical oppression in Europe.”[4]

Holzer says Lincoln’s views on immigration “evolved,” like his views on slavery and race, as he began to endorse immigration, something he previously, as a Whig, was against; though he seems to have desired immigration but refrained from saying so publicly while a Whig, and was one of the first in his party to push for immigration. The Whigs and later Republicans often despised Catholic immigrants, most notably because they unanimously voted Democrat.

Lincoln seems to have used immigrants in something of the way the South used slaves, encouraging them to migrate to the U.S. to help the war effort and also on the field of battle to take bullets and save others. For these purposes, he sought to use federal funds to promote and relocate immigrants to areas useful to the war effort and to provide cheaper labor for his industrial allies. He used humans as tools for his own gain.

However, as Holzer admits, Lincoln never contemplated immigration from anywhere but Europe, never desiring Latin Americans, blacks, or Asians to come here. Holzer points out the irony of Lincoln supporting white immigrants, but at the same time attempting to deport blacks out of the country, and removing Native Americans from Minnesota to make room for white immigrants. Further he did not include “Mexican Greasers”[5] in his vision of America. What Lincoln really wanted in anti-slavery western territories was an “outlet for free white people everywhere.”[6] Yet this does not stop this top Lincoln scholar from repeatedly describing Lincoln as a fighter for equality for all!

 

In support of immigration

Receiving support as he did from Northern industrialists, Lincoln supported massive immigration to provide cheap labor for industry. Especially during the war, the draft was taking people from positions the North needed occupied so as to maintain its war effort; thus, immigrants filled the gaps left by soldiers. Lincoln pushed for and approved the first federal policy that encouraged immigration.

While it seems Lincoln always was personally for immigration, keeping it private for political reasons due to Whig policy, he changed his public stance on immigration for the same reason he changed his stance on other issues; political advantage. When socialist and democratic immigrants arrived, for political purposes and seeking to centralize power he advocated for immigration policies that encouraged them. The same way modern Democrats would switch if it were white conservative Christians pouring over the borders of America today.

As Holzer mentions, unlike the earlier decades of Irish, German, and Swedish immigration that were for economic reasons, or the potato famine, or religious freedom, the 48’ers were politically motivated. He wrote that the “suppressed 1848 democratic revolutions on the continent motivated thousands of liberals to flee oppression… the exodus was largely political.”[7] These immigrants began a revolution in America, starting newspapers, becoming politically active, and pushing for government education and more.

America received more immigrants in the late 1840s and 1850s than it had in its entire history before then. And a large segment of these immigrants came from failed socialist, communist, and democratic revolutions in Europe. The failed revolutions sent these politically motivated ideologues to attempt the revolution elsewhere, and they brought their radical progressive ideas with them to America. And so, naturally, sided with the centralizing powers of the North.

In 1852, with America very much under the spell of the recently-arrived Hungarian revolutionary leader Lajos Kossuth, a committee of prominent Springfield citizens including Lincoln met to formalize views on the failed Hungarian and other revolts. The first clause of the agreed resolution drafted by Lincoln, stated “That it is the right of any people, sufficiently numerous for national independence, to throw off, to revolutionize, their existing form of government, and to establish such other in its stead as they may choose.” A stance, Holzer points out, he later would reject during the Southern states’ secession. Perhaps because while he endorsed a liberal democratic revolution, he despised a libertarian, decentralized, aristocratic one, like the Confederacy!

Lincoln worked with and helped fund German immigrants in publishing Republican propaganda newspapers in Illinois. These German immigrants and socialists were among the most enthusiastic and dedicated supporters of Lincoln’s 1860 campaign, helping flip various states Republican, like Pennsylvania, Minnesota, Iowa, Ohio, Indiana, and Wisconsin. Famed Republican abolitionist Horace Greeley credited German revolutionary Carl Schurz for Lincoln’s presidential election more than any other individual for his speaking and campaigning.

The influence of their radical agenda was immense; one prominent Republican complained of the “complete Dutchification (Germanization) of the Republican party.” Unlike Southerners, who saw themselves as citizens of their state, these German nationalists took the idea of a single nation with them and were now “American citizens.” And nationalism was above politics. Further, men like Schurz helped revise and provide feedback for Lincoln’s nationalistic inaugural address that caused a panic in the decentralized South.

 

Cause of victory?

Prominent Republicans credited the Germans and Scandinavians for Lincoln’s victory. Rewarding their efforts, Lincoln placed many of his German campaigners into governmental positions, especially foreign diplomatic positions.

Holzer said Lincoln, ever the politician, was “addicted to the newspaper.” Politics was his life, it was his interest and passion. He placed national party victory over local self-governance, and political victory above the local desires of the people in his party. It was national-level victory and party success he desired, and thought above various local distinctions, even within the party. He criticized Massachusetts Republicans for passing the state law mentioned previously since it could harm the party nationally, saying that “Massachusetts Republicans should have looked beyond their noses, and then they could not have failed to see that tilting against foreigners would ruin us in the whole Northwest.”[8]

Some information revealed that Lincoln admirers might find uncomfortable is that he was known for both his racist and sexist jokes. Interestingly, in 1859 Lincoln referred to the state of Massachusetts, which had passed a law he disapproved of, as “A sovereign and independent State.”[9] During the Civil War, Federal General Fremont abolished slavery in the area under his military command. Lincoln rescinded Fremont’s order, and further removed and replaced the general for his progressive action, upsetting many German immigrant abolitionists who turned against the president for it. Lincoln worked with the well-known brilliant but extremely racist scientist Louis Agassiz to found the National Academy of Sciences.[10] Also, Lincoln stated he would “suffer death” before interfering or allowing others to interfere with slavery in the existing slave states. Lincoln’s many equivocal statements and actions concerning black people and slavery contrast sharply with the welcome and support he showed for the influx of European whites during his lifetime. The latter is of course far more the subject of Harold Holzer’s book than is the former.

 

Jeb Smith is an author and speaker whose books include Defending Dixie's Land: What Every American Should Know About The South And The Civil War written under the pen name Isaac C. Bishop,  Missing Monarchy: Correcting Misconceptions About The Middle Ages, Medieval Kingship, Democracy, And Liberty and he also authored Defending the Middle Ages: Little Known Truths About the Crusades, Inquisitions, Medieval Women, and More. Smith has written over 120 articles found in several publications.


[1] (Holzer 2)

[2] (Holzer 3)

[3] (Holzer 204)

[4] (Holzer 204)

[5] (Holzer 116)

[6] (Holzer 105)

[7] (Holzer 56)

[8] (Holzer 112)

[9] (Holzer 105)

[10] (Holzer 240, 8)

The Victoria Cross stands as one of the most revered and instantly recognizable military decorations in the world. Awarded "for most conspicuous bravery … in the presence of the enemy," it has come to symbolize the highest ideal of personal courage across the British and Commonwealth armed forces. Yet its creation was not inevitable. The medal was born out of a moment of national self-reflection, forged during a war that exposed the deficiencies of Britain's honors system and the heroism of ordinary soldiers in equal measure. Its conception, minting, and enduring legacy form one of the most compelling stories in military history.

Terry Bailey explains.

The front and back of Edward James Gibson Holland's Victoria Cross. Source: Royal Canadian Dragoons Archives and Collection, available here.

The Crimean War of 1853–1856 fundamentally reshaped Britain's approach to honoring gallantry. Prior to this conflict, no universal British award existed to recognize personal bravery on the battlefield. Instead, recognition tended to be tied to rank or social position, leaving countless acts of courage by common soldiers formally unacknowledged. The Crimean War changed this. Journalists, for the first time reporting directly from the front lines, brought stories of extraordinary heroism into Victorian homes. Reports of the Charge of the Light Brigade, the defense of the Alma, and the brutal conditions at Sevastopol stirred the public and embarrassed the government, highlighting the lack of a decoration that transcended class.

The idea for a new medal quickly took hold. Prince Albert, the Prince Consort, became one of the strongest advocates for the creation of a simple, egalitarian award. He envisioned a decoration that could be bestowed upon any serviceman—private or general—solely based on merit and bravery. Queen Victoria herself approved his vision, favoring a design that was dignified yet unpretentious. The result was a Royal Warrant issued on the 29th of January 1856, instituting a new honor: the Victoria Cross. It would be awarded sparingly and only for the most exceptional acts of valor performed in the presence of the enemy, making it a truly rare and exceptional distinction.

The first Victoria Crosses were minted in 1856, and the story of their material origin has become a key part of the medal's mystique. Tradition holds that they were made from the bronze of two Russian cannon captured during the Siege of Sevastopol. These heavy guns, relics of one of the fiercest battles of the war were transported to Woolwich, where they were broken down and melted to provide the raw material for the decoration. While later metallurgical examinations have raised questions about whether all the metal truly came from Russian guns, the symbolism of forging gallantry from captured weaponry has endured. The bronze was cast into small ingots, each used to create the distinctive cross pattée that has become synonymous with supreme bravery.

The raw material for the Victoria Cross remains a subject of fascination. A small supply of bronze, approximately 358 kilograms, has been safeguarded for more than a century and a half at the Ministry of Defence's base at Donnington. This stock is used exclusively for the casting of new medals, ensuring that each Victoria Cross shares a tangible connection to its Crimean War origins. Only a few ounces of bronze are needed for each medal, meaning the reserve is expected to last for many more generations of awards. The process of casting, finishing, and engraving each medal remains highly specialized and is carried out with deep respect for its historical lineage, preserving the continuity of tradition that began in the 1850s.

One particularly unusual feature of the first Victoria Crosses lies in their retrospective nature. Although the medal was formally instituted in 1856, the first awards recognized acts of bravery performed as far back as 1854. This meant that the earliest medals minted were created to honor deeds predating the very existence of the decoration. The inaugural investiture took place on the 26th of June 1857 in London's Hyde Park. Before a crowd of thousands, Queen Victoria herself presented sixty-two medals, many of which commemorated actions that had already become legendary in popular imagination. These first recipients set the tone for a decoration defined by humility, sacrifice, and the recognition of courage wherever it was found.

Throughout its history, the Victoria Cross has been awarded a total of 1,358 times since the medal's inception in 1856. This includes 1,355 individual recipients and three bars (second awards) for an additional act of valor. These three men, were Arthur Martin-Leake, Noel Chavasse, and Charles Upham, who all received the medal twice, earning a rare Bar for a second act of extraordinary valor. Their stories represent the pinnacle of human courage, each a testament to unwavering resolve in the face of overwhelming danger. From the trenches of the First World War, to the skies of the Second World War, to modern conflicts in the Falklands, Iraq, and Afghanistan, the medal has remained a constant, awarded sparingly to ensure its prestige and significance remain undiminished.

Today, the Victoria Cross occupies a unique place in the military culture of the United Kingdom and Commonwealth nations. Its design has remained almost unchanged since the first medal was cast. The obverse features a lion standing on the royal crown, above a scroll bearing the simple yet powerful inscription "For Valour." The crimson ribbon was selected by Queen Victoria herself, and its deep color has become iconic in its own right. The reverse of each medal is engraved with the name, rank, and unit of the recipient, as well as the date of the action for which it was awarded, personalizing each decoration as a permanent reminder of individual sacrifice.

The significance of the Victoria Cross extends far beyond its material form. It stands as a monument to the idea that bravery is not confined to rank, status, or background. Conceived at a time when society was rigidly hierarchical, the medal offered unprecedented recognition to ordinary soldiers whose courage would otherwise have gone unrecorded. Its survival into the twenty-first century speaks to the enduring relevance of its core principle: that exceptional valor deserves the highest honor a nation can bestow.

In tracing the history and conception of the Victoria Cross, from the battlefields of Crimea to the secure vaults of Donnington, a story is uncovered, not only of military decoration but of evolving national values. The medal remains a powerful symbol of courage, integrity, and humanity. It is a reminder that in the most desperate moments of conflict, individuals continue to demonstrate a level of bravery that transcends time, forging their place in history and inspiring generations to come.

The Victoria Cross endures because it represents far more than an award for bravery; it embodies a moral ideal that has remained remarkably constant despite profound changes in warfare, society, and the nature of conflict itself. From its origins in the aftermath of the Crimean War to its continued presence in modern campaigns, the medal has consistently affirmed that courage under fire is a universal human quality, worthy of the highest recognition regardless of rank, background, or circumstance. Its careful design, its symbolic material origins, and its deliberately restrictive criteria have ensured that the Victoria Cross has never been diminished by overuse or ceremony, but instead retains an almost sacred authority.

What ultimately distinguishes the Victoria Cross is its unbroken continuity. Each new award draws a direct line back to the first acts of valor recognized in the mid-nineteenth century, both materially through the bronze from which it is cast and philosophically through the values it represents. In an age where military technology and doctrine have evolved beyond anything its founders could have imagined, the essence of the medal remains unchanged: the recognition of selfless courage in the face of mortal danger. This continuity reinforces the Victoria Cross not as a relic of imperial history, but as a living tradition that continues to define the very highest standard of service and sacrifice.

In this sense, the Victoria Cross serves as a bridge between generations. It links the soldiers of Crimea with those of the world wars and the conflicts of the present day, uniting them in a shared narrative of extraordinary human resolve. Each recipient adds a new chapter to this story, yet none diminishes those that came before. Instead, the collective weight of these individual acts strengthens the medal's meaning, ensuring that it remains both a personal honor and a national symbol.

As long as courage is demanded in the service of others, the Victoria Cross will continue to hold its unique place in history. It stands as a quiet yet enduring testament to the capacity for bravery under the most extreme conditions, reminding society that while the circumstances of war may change, the values of courage, sacrifice, and integrity remain timeless.

 

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Note:

The ribbon of the Victoria Cross varies by service branch, with dark crimson traditionally used for the British Army and Royal Marines, (today Royal Marine Commandos, while a deep blue ribbon was originally designated for awards to the Royal Navy. In practice, the crimson ribbon has become standard across all branches since the First World War, reflecting the unification of service distinctions while preserving the medal's historic origins.

During the height of the air war over Europe, large groups of American heavy bombers climbed out of East Anglia almost every morning. For many people living in the region, the sound and sight of those aircraft became a familiar part of the conflict. The United States Army Air Forces depended heavily on the B-17 Flying Fortress and the B-24 Liberator for its daylight strategy, and their departures became routine. What rarely receives the same attention is the role of a handful of older bombers that helped bring order to these departures. These were the assembly ships, painted in bright and sometimes unusual colors so crews could spot them quickly against the English sky.

Richard Clements explains.

Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress formation. Schweinfurt, Germany - August, 17, 1943.

Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress formation. Schweinfurt, Germany - August 17, 1943.

The Challenge of Bringing Order to the Skies

From 1943 onward, the Eighth Air Force expanded its operations across East Anglia. Airfields were spread across Norfolk, Suffolk, and Cambridgeshire, and each one sent aircraft into the same busy morning sky. Every bomber had to find its place in a larger group, climb steadily, and keep to the timetable. Weather often interfered, and crews still adjusting to British conditions sometimes struggled to identify other aircraft in the haze.

The result was predictable. Aircraft sometimes climbed into the same airspace. Near misses were reported frequently. Several bombing missions suffered delays because the formations failed to gather quickly enough. Although ground control could guide departures, it could not solve the issue of identifying other aircraft in the air. Another solution was needed, one that crews could see without relying on radio contact or clear skies.

 

A Practical Innovation in a Growing Air War

The answer was the assembly ship. These were older bombers nearing the end of their combat life. Some had battle damage that made long missions impossible, while others had simply become worn. Instead of being scrapped immediately, many were converted into highly visible airborne rally points. Each bomb group had one, sometimes two, depending on operational needs.

The idea was straightforward. The assembly ship took off first and climbed into a holding pattern above its home base. Newer aircraft took off next and circled until they spotted the brightly painted machine overhead. Once enough aircraft had gathered, the assembly ship guided the formation into the correct climbing pattern and direction of travel. After completing the task, it returned to base. It did not cross the North Sea or accompany the mission toward its target.

This method saved time, reduced the risk of accidents, and helped maintain the tight formations required for mutual defense.

 

Color Schemes Designed to Be Impossible to Miss

The thing that makes assembly ships so memorable today is their appearance. Because they never flew into enemy territory, camouflage was unnecessary. Visibility became the priority. Groups across the Eighth Air Force began to develop their own designs, often with considerable imagination.

One aircraft might be painted bright yellow with red chevrons. Another might have wide black spots across a silver fuselage. Some had candy-striped tails. Others carried oversized geometric shapes or checkerboard patterns. A few used contrasting panels of green and white. The design language varied, but every scheme aimed at the same goal. Crews had to recognize the ship instantly, even in bad weather.

These color schemes created some of the most distinctive aircraft of the Second World War. They were not meant to impress the enemy or hide from it. They were meant for the airmen who needed to find their group quickly at dawn.

 

Conversions and Modifications

The aircraft chosen for this role were usually B-17s or B-24s. Each type required a fair amount of modification. Guns were removed, which reduced weight and made the aircraft easier to climb. Armor plate was often taken out for the same reason. Much of the interior was removed, along with equipment that was no longer needed. Lightening the aircraft made it easier for the assembly ship to get up early and remain overhead long enough for the rest of the group to form up.

Some groups gave their assembly ships names that embraced their unusual appearance. The 458th Bomb Group operated a B-24 known as “Spotted Cow”. Another group had “The Green Dragon”, painted in a vivid green finish with yellow markings. There were others, including “The Jolly Roger” and “Fightin’ Sam”. The names added a touch of character, but the paintwork did most of the talking.

 

Routine Work That Never Reached the Headlines

Assembly ships rarely appear in wartime newsreels or photographs. Their work was uneventful by design. They did not fly through flak or fighter attack. They were not part of the dramatic footage that accompanied raids on Berlin or the Ruhr. Yet their flights were essential. A large formation needed clarity and coordination. Without it, missions risked breakdown long before reaching the target.

Veterans often described the sense of relief that came with spotting the brightly colored aircraft circling above the base. In the low morning light, with engines warming and visibility uncertain, that visual cue gave crews a clear point of reference. They knew exactly where to go and how to start the long climb eastward.

 

Safety, Training, and an Air War Under Pressure

The arrival of assembly ships also made the morning departure routine noticeably safer. With so many aircraft circling the same patch of sky, the chance of a collision was never far from anyone’s mind. These brightly marked bombers gave crews an instant point of reference, which helped ease the congestion. They also became useful for newcomers. Pilots fresh from training in the United States often relied on them as they learned how to join and hold formation. It was an early step in understanding the discipline that large-scale operations demanded.

In addition, the system helped keep missions on schedule. The Eighth Air Force operated under strict timing. Multiple groups needed to cross the coast within narrow intervals. Delays could disrupt the larger plan. By ensuring orderly assembly at the start of each mission, these ships supported the wider strategic effort.

 

A Short Life and a Quiet End

When the war in Europe came to an end, most of these aircraft were taken apart or scrapped. Their bright paintwork, once an essential guide for dozens of aircrews, faded from the airfields almost overnight. Only a small number of photographs survived, tucked away in various archives and in a few private collections. They show a brief and unusual moment in the air war, when a practical need produced something unexpectedly creative.

Today, these aircraft give a modest but useful glimpse into a part of Allied operations that rarely comes up in broader accounts.

 

A Forgotten Chapter Worth Remembering

The story of the assembly ships shows how major military efforts depend on far more than the frontline aircraft that usually attract most of the attention in wartime histories. Yet the work done behind the scenes, whether through supporting aircraft, trial solutions, or improvised ideas, often proves just as important. The striking paint schemes on these older bombers might seem unusual today, but they grew out of the very real difficulties faced by crews trying to find one another in poor visibility. When an airman spotted one circling above the field, it was a clear sign that the day’s climb east was about to begin.

Their time in service was short, but the impression they left remains striking. Few wartime aircraft looked anything like them, and none were given the same specific job. In a campaign that relied on coordination and discipline, the assembly ships played a modest but essential part.

 

The site has been offering a wide variety of high-quality, free history content since 2012. If you’d like to say ‘thank you’ and help us with site running costs, please consider donating here.

 

 

References

Bowers, P. M. Boeing B 17 Flying Fortress. Smithsonian Institution Press, 1995.
 Freeman, R. A. The Mighty Eighth. Arms and Armour Press, 1970.
 Johnson, R. B 24 Liberator at War. Ian Allan Publishing, 1978.
 Roeder, G. H. The Censored War. Yale University Press, 1993.
 USAAF Eighth Air Force archival photographs and formation records, East Anglia, 1943–45.

Megasthenes, (Μεγασθένης), remains one of the most fascinating bridges between the classical Mediterranean world and early Imperial India: a Greek diplomat, ethnographer and writer who, as ambassador of Seleucus I Nicator, lived at the Mauryan court of Chandragupta and composed what became the first sustained Western account of the subcontinent. Exact details of his birth and upbringing are slim; later sources and modern scholars conventionally place his life in the fourth–third centuries BCE (often cited as born c. 350 BCE and dying c. 290 BCE), and describe him as an Ionian Greek who had served in the eastern satrapies before being dispatched to Pataliputra (modern Patna) in the decades after Alexander's campaigns.

Terry Bailey explains.

A Bust of Seleukos I Nikator, Bronze, Roman, 100BCE-100CE at the Museo Archeologico Nazionale Naples AN 5590. Source: Allan Gluck, available here.

Megasthenes' embassy must be read against the turbulent political map that emerged after Alexander: in the 320s–300s BCE the Macedonian successor states and the rising Mauryan power negotiated borders, alliances and exchanges. Seleucus I, having consolidated power in the west and east, sent envoys to the new Mauryan ruler; Megasthenes is usually identified as the Greek who represented Seleucus at Chandragupta's court, sometime around the opening years of the third century BCE (classical accounts often place the mission in or near 302–300 BCE). While Greek authors disagree about details and chronology, there is broad agreement that Megasthenes lived for a period in Pataliputra and had access to court circles and local informants.

What secured Megasthenes' long-term reputation was his written work, the Indica (Greek: νδικά) — a multi-book description of India that combined geography, ethnography, political organization, natural history and curious anecdotes. The original Indica is lost, but substantial fragments and paraphrases survive embedded in later authors such as Arrian, Strabo, Diodorus Siculus and Pliny; from those citations, scholars have been able to reconstruct large portions of his themes and claims. His account ranged from pragmatic observations, fortified layout and wooden palisades of the Mauryan capital, the scale of rivers such as the Ganges, commercial products, and administrative practices, to more exotic reports (stories of ancient invaders rendered as Dionysus or Heracles, fabulous creatures, and social arrangements unfamiliar to Greeks). The composite picture is of a careful observer who also relied on local informants and existing oral traditions, which accounts for a mix of reliable detail and mythic accretion.

Scholars and ancient critics have long debated how much of Megasthenes to trust. Arrian, the second-century CE historian who quotes Megasthenes sympathetically, treats him as an important firsthand source; by contrast, Strabo and Pliny accuse him of exaggeration and fantastical reporting. Modern historians tend to take a middle way: many of Megasthenes' topographical and administrative notes, the scale of Pataliputra, references to markets and ports, the prominence of philosophers in court life, and certain demographic or economic observations, find independent support or at least plausibility, even when his mythic or secondhand claims require skepticism. In short, Indica is invaluable as the earliest sustained ethnographic encounter between Greece and India, but it must be handled critically and compared with other evidence.

One important way Megasthenes' descriptions have been tested is by archaeological work at the site he called Palibothra (Pataliputra). Excavations in the Patna region, notably at Kumhrar, Bulandi Bagh and other spots have revealed extensive Mauryan-age remains: large wooden palisade foundations, signs of monumental timber architecture, and evidence for an unusually large and administratively complex urban center in the third century BCE. Those discoveries do not prove every specific claim in Indica, but they corroborate the broad outline of a heavily fortified, sprawling Mauryan capital whose scale and administrative character impressed foreign visitors. When combined with indigenous literary references (Buddhist and Jain texts that mention Pataliputra) the archaeological record strengthens the view that Megasthenes recorded real, observable features of Mauryan urban life.

Beyond topography and economy, Megasthenes' notes on society, his listing of social groups (sometimes translated later as "seven castes" or "classes"), his statements about the role of philosophers and the presence or absence of slavery, and his remarks about trade routes and commodities have been influential (and controversial) in modern reconstructions of early Indian institutions. Some of these formulations reflect Greek categories forcing themselves onto Indian realities; others appear to preserve local administrative distinctions that match evidence from inscriptions and later Indian sources. Thus Indica functions simultaneously as an ethnographic snapshot shaped by cross-cultural translation and as a repository of useful data that historians weigh against Indian textual traditions and material finds.

The Indica's afterlife in the classical tradition is also part of Megasthenes' achievement: later geographers and historians in the Greco-Roman world even when skeptical used his material as the baseline for European knowledge of India well into late antiquity. That transmission made Megasthenes an intellectual conduit: Mediterranean readers learned about Indian rivers, cities, products, and philosophical schools primarily through his fragments and their later epitomes. At the same time, the fragmentary preservation of Indica has posed chronic editorial problems: nineteenth- and twentieth-century scholars produced reconstructions and critical editions, but disagreements persist about which quoted passages genuinely derive from Megasthenes and which were later interpolations.

What we know of Megasthenes' later life is sparse. Classical compilations usually report that he died around 290 BCE and they place his productive period, the embassy and the composition of Indica in the early third century BCE, after which his text circulated among Greek writers. There are no surviving personal letters or an archaeological "archive" that preserves Megasthenes' own voice beyond the Indica fragments; his passport into history is therefore the composite testimony of those later authors and the material traces of the Mauryan world that those fragments describe. Modern scholarship treats him as an essential, if imperfect, eyewitness: a man whose curiosity and court access opened up India to the Mediterranean imagination and whose mixed reliability reminds us how every cross-cultural encounter is a dialogue between observation, report, and interpretation.

In the end Megasthenes matters less as a flawless chronicler than as the first sustained Greek interlocutor to try to comprehend and describe a large part of the Indian subcontinent for a foreign audience. His Indica remains a foundational text for reconstructing Mauryan urbanism, trade networks and aspects of social organization; the archaeology of Pataliputra and the mirrors of indigenous literary traditions have validated many of his broad claims while also exposing the limits of any single ancient eyewitness. For historians of cross-cultural contact, Megasthenes is therefore indispensable: not because every line is true, but because his mixture of careful description, secondhand story and interpretive framing is exactly the kind of source that, when read critically, can illuminate how two great ancient worlds first began to see one another.

Megasthenes' legacy endures because his work represents one of the earliest and most ambitious attempts to translate an unfamiliar civilization into terms accessible to his own. Although filtered through the perceptions of a Greek diplomat shaped by the political tensions and intellectual categories of the Hellenistic world, the Indica remains the earliest extended window onto Mauryan India as viewed by an outsider who sought, however imperfectly, to observe rather than simply imagine. The survival of his account only in fragments and paraphrases has inevitably obscured parts of his original vision, yet what remains is striking in its breadth: geography, economy, administration, philosophy and the daily rhythms of a thriving imperial capital all find a place in Megasthenes' narrative.

Taken together with archaeological discoveries at Pataliputra and the testimony of Buddhist and Jain traditions, his observations gain depth and credibility, allowing modern historians to reconstruct with greater confidence the scale, sophistication and cosmopolitan nature of early Mauryan society. At the same time, the tensions within his work, the blend of sober description with mythic elements, and the temptation to map Greek concepts onto Indian realities serve as a reminder of the challenges inherent in any cross-cultural encounter. Megasthenes was neither a naïve recorder of wonders nor a wholly reliable scientific observer; instead, he was a pioneer navigating the uncertain ground between cultures, translating what he saw and heard into the intellectual language of his own world.

For that reason, Megasthenes stands as a crucial figure in the history of ancient knowledge. His Indica-shaped Greco-Roman conceptions of India for centuries, influenced later geographers and historians, and continues to serve today as an indispensable, if occasionally problematic—foundation for understanding the Mauryan Empire at its height. His work invites individuals to read critically, compare sources, and recognize the interpretive layers that accompany any ancient report. Yet it also invites admiration: for his curiosity, his willingness to engage deeply with a foreign court, and his attempt to make sense of a vibrant society undergoing rapid political and cultural transformation. Ultimately, Megasthenes' significance lies not only in the information he preserves, but in the very act of cultural translation he undertook, a reminder that the earliest bridges between civilizations were built as much by storytellers and observers as by diplomats and kings.

 

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AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones
CategoriesBlog Post

The Lincoln-Douglas Debates were a series of 1858 debates between Abraham Lincoln of the Republican Party and Stephen Douglas of the Democratic Party. Laureen Vernon explains.

An 1958 postage stamp commemorating the debates. 


Now, as in then there can be but one supreme issue, that between right and wrong. In our country there are no ruling classes. The right to direct public affairs, according to his might and influence and conscious belongs to the humblest as well as the greatest… But it is times of danger, crucial moments, which bring into action the high moral quality of the citizenship of America. The people are always true. They are always right, and I have the abiding faith that they will remain so Robert Todd, Lincoln, speaking at the Galesburg, celebration 1896. (A, 314)

 

The weather was so extremely dusty due to the preceding drought that the streets resemble the vast smoke houses because of the dust picked up by the thousands of spectators, economic recession, deflated land values brought railroad construction to a halt as Illinois Central and Michigan Central Railroad; and reduced the money supply of the banknotes from $215 million to $115 million. Money grew suddenly so scarce with us that a man possessing $10 in coins or in notes of a solvent bank might call himself a capitalist, Carl Scharz, a German, immigrant (a,XI) When considering the series of 1858 debates between Abraham Lincoln of the Republican Party and Stephen Douglas of the Democratic Party I think of civility and decorum. In reality the discussions were quite the opposite. They both used a lot of sarcasm did a lot of name calling to the degree that it most likely would be unable to be aired on network television. Until 1913, senators were elected not by popular vote, but by the General Assembly made up of their Representatives. Lincoln and Douglas were trying to win the votes of the State Legislator of the two chambers of the Illinois General Assembly. This was the first time debates were held between Senate candidates (B).

Debates

Originally, Lincoln proposed a series of 50 debates. Douglas agreed to 7 “joint discussions” because there were nine congressional districts in Illinois (B).    He was frustrated that in the two districts he already spoke in, Lincoln would arrive two days after he left and defend his views. This left Douglas unable to rebuke. With crowds ranging from 1,000 to 20,000 spectators, it was a huge media story. Two rival newspapers in the Chicago area hired shorthand stenographers to capture every word of the candidate’s debates. From the articles published, Lincoln prepared scrapbooks that he had published by an Ohio printer to assist in his later bid for the Presidency of the United States.

While their primary focus was on slavery, they also debated popular sovereignty, the implication of the Dred Scott decision, the morality of enslavement, and the potential of a fractured union. Douglas chose to speak first in four of the seven debates. He was allowed sixty minutes to present his point with the challenger being (Lincoln) given a ninety-minute response followed by thirty-minute rejoinder by the first candidate. Douglas argued his belief that residents should decide if the state is free or not (Popular Sovereignty), and that the Supreme Court ruled in the Dred Scott case the slaves aren't people and could be brought into a free state and remain slaves. He was worried about the possibility of a fractured union.  However, he believed that Popular Sovereignty would solve that.

 

Slavery

Lincoln argued against slavery on moral grounds. He avoided stating that the races are equal, he just argued that slavery shouldn't be expanded into new territories. If the territory already had slaves, they would be able to keep them. He felt that the Dred Scott decision had critical implications on the expansion of slavery, and he too was concerned about the division of the union, but felt only keeping slavery where it existed while not expanding into new territories would solve it. He spoke of the “eternal struggle’ between right and wrong when speaking of slavery, he mentioned “two principles that stood face to face since the beginning of time. The one of the common rights of humanity and the other the divine right of kings.” Lincoln used the house divided metaphor as early as 1843. He shared the biblical phrase “a house divided cannot stand” as a warning to unify the members of his political party.  The names of parties are the same, but their principals and positions have flipped in the last one hundred fifty years.

As the debates drew to a close, an observer noted that Douglas had lost his voice when Lincoln's voice and spirit were intact.  Lincoln won the popular vote, but lost the vote in in the General Assembly, Lincoln was confident even though he had lost because he had won the popular vote. Lincoln had gained notoriety and used the debates to help propel him into the White House. Lincoln and Douglas had disagreed for many years. However, Douglas supported Lincoln during the war.

 

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References

A.  Lincoln and Douglas, the debates, define America, Allen C.  Guelza, Simon and Schuster, New York, New York, 2008

B. The Lincoln Douglas debate of 1858, nps.gov, February 16, 2017, https://www.nps.gov/liho/learn/historyculture/debates.htm

C.  Lincoln Douglas Debates, britannica.com, October 27, 2025, https://www.britannica.com/event/Lincoln-Douglas-debates

Called upon to surrender the Delaware River fortification of Fort Mercer, Patriot Colonel Christopher Greene responded, “We ask no quarter and will give none.”  Pointing to the American ramparts, Hessian Colonel Carl von Donop of the besieging force made a bold proclamation of his own declaring, “Either that will be Fort Donop or I will be dead.”  On October 22nd, 1777, both commanders would make good on their stirring words.

Here, James F. Byrne Jr look at the 1777 Battle of Fort Mercer in the American Revolutionary War.

Patriot Colonel Christopher Green. Painting by James Sullivan Lincoln.

Following the defeat of the Continental Army at Brandywine, the British occupied Philadelphia.  British General Sir William Howe controlled the American capital, but not the supply route needed to support his large force.  Howe needed the Delaware River to move supplies.  Unfortunately for his plans, the Patriots controlled a section of the river four miles south of the capital with two forts and a small fleet.  Howe’s operations to clear the river resulted in a strategic victory, but not before his forces suffered a humiliating tactical disaster in one of the most lopsided American victories of the Revolutionary War.

Patriot defenses at Red Bank (a strategic bend in the river) consisted of Fort Mercer on the New Jersey shore and Fort Mifflin located on a nearby island.  Fort Mifflin boasted 28 guns mounted in a log palisade.  Fort Mercer consisted of earthen ramparts supporting 14 guns and manned by 400 Continentals under the command of Colonel Greene. 

An eclectic but formidable naval squadron of sloops, schooners and row galleys protected the forts.  The squadron also overwatched significant obstacles consisting of iron tipped timbers anchored to the river bottom.

Howe elected to launch a joint naval and land assault to clear his riverine supply line.

Two thousand Hessians under the command of Colonel von Donop would seize Fort Mercer.  Von Donop had the misfortune to be in charge of the Hessian garrisons in New Jersey when Washington crossed the Delaware and captured the outpost at Trenton.  He eagerly viewed the coming assault as an opportunity to reburnish his tarnished reputation.

 

Offense

On October 22nd the British offense commenced.  A fleet which included six ocean going vessels made its way up the Delaware and ran into shallow waters, underwater obstacles, and a hornet’s nest of small, maneuverable, Patriot warships.  Two of the British behemoths ran aground and were destroyed the next day. 

Simultaneously with the Royal Navy’s fiasco, the Hessians entered the fray.  Approaching Fort Mercer from the Jersey shore von Donop launched an assault after only a cursory reconnaissance.  Colonel Greene, a veteran of both Bunker Hill and Quebec, was well served by his scouts and knew of the Hessian advance.  He withdrew his men from the outer walls into an internal redoubt protected by a ditch and extensive abatis (sharpened, felled trees).  Observing the abandoned outer positions, von Donop assumed the Americans were withdrawing and launched an immediate attack.

The Hessian scaled the abandoned outer parapets and found themselves blocked by extensive abatis, a wide ditch, and American artillery and infantry positioned along the main walls of the fort.  The Hessians lacked the tools to cut through the abatis or cross the ditch and milled around helplessly while the Americans poured fire into their ranks.  Perhaps the final straw, ships of the American squadron moved into position to join in the bloodletting.  In less than 30 minutes the Hessians retreated, having suffering 700 casualties.  American losses were less than 40.

 

Context

Three weeks later, the British deployed additional artillery, infantry, and warships around Red Bank, leading the Americans to scuttle their fleet, destroy their fortifications, and withdraw.  Their logistic waterway secured British supply vessels reached Philadelphia on November 26th.  The British (now well supplied) spent the winter of 1777-78 in the relative comfort of Philadelphia.  However, it had taken seven weeks to clear the American defenses from the Delaware and required the commitment of much of the British force.  While Howe orchestrated this operation, Washington was able to rest and resupply his bedraggled army in relative peace, and move into austere but safe winter quarters at Valley Forge. 

As for the commanders who fought at Fort Mercer, they were remarkably prescient.  Colonel Greene’s brilliant defense ensured he had no need to seek quarter.  As for Colonel von Donop, he was not able to grace Fort Mercer with his name, but he did indeed fall while leading the assault, and subsequently died of his wounds.

 

Lessons Learned

Combined Arms do not Guarantee Victory – The British assault included overwhelming artillery, infantry, and naval forces, and failed overwhelmingly.

Don’t Forget Nothing – The Hessians lacked the tools needed to breech Patriot obstacles and suffered accordingly.

Weapons Deployed Must Meet Tactical Requirements  - Large British warships were unable to adapt to river conditions or the highly maneuverable Patriot squadron.

Obstacles Covered by Fire may be Insurmountable -  Patriot fires converted their obstacle belt into a death trap.

Deception is a Combat Multiplier – Patriot withdrawal from the outer defenses led to the Hessian ill-planned, disastrous assault.

Know What You are up Against – Inadequate reconnaissance resulted in the overwhelming defeat of the Hessian attack. 

Courage is Necessary but not Sufficient -  von Donop led his troops from the front, but his leadership skills did not match his bravery.

 

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Jeb Smith recently read Larry Allen McCluney, Jr.’s book, The Paradox of Freedom: A History of Black Slaveholders in America. Here, he discusses his views of the book.

City of New Orleans, 5 March 1818. Order from the Mayor's office to the City Treasury to reimburse Rosette Montreuil, a free woman of color, for the work of her slave, Michel, "mulatto". Signed by mayor Augustin Macarty.

An Instructor of American History at Mississippi Delta Community College and an American Civil War Living Historian since 1995, Larry Allen McCluney received his bachelor’s and master’s degrees in history at Mississippi State University, and his research into original data for this book is extensive (he even utilized a History Is Now article). He cites and quotes many historians, as well as original sources, to bring to life a fact of American history: African Americans were slave owners too.

A mix of various “free peoples of color”—various mixed race and African Americans —owned people of their own race from colonial times up until after the Civil War. In some extreme cases slaves owned slaves. Some free African Americans even engaged in slave trading. This should not surprise us, as Africa has always been the center of slavery, where just as every other race in the world has been enslaved, and continues to enslave their own people. In fact, it was outside pressure from European nations that forced abolitionism on Africa.

African American slaveowners in America at times became some of the wealthiest planters and businessmen in the entire South. McCluney writes they became one with “the upper crust of the economic level in the pre-war South.” They entered into and at times mingled, intermarried, and associated with the white southern aristocratic class. These wealthy included many African American women.

For example, he quotes Steven J. Niven, who wrote of “Marie-Thérèse Coincoin, who lived for eight decades in Natchitoches Parish, La. She would help to found a family dynasty of Free, Colored planters, the Metoyers, who by 1830 owned over 200 slaves—8 percent of all enslaved people in the parish.” In Charleston City, South Carolina, 123 African American women owned slaves and were the “heads” of households, including Maria Weston, who by 1860 owned 14 slaves and owned property amounting to $40,000; the average white earned around $100. Marie Thérèse Metoyer of New Orleans owned around 11,000 acres of land, manufactured medicine, trapped animals, and grew tobacco.

 

Wealthy slave owners

Many African American slave owners owned hundreds or thousands of acres of land and were wealthier than the vast majority of whites. McCluney writes:

 “In 1860, there were at least six free Blacks who owned 65 or more slaves. The largest number, 152 slaves, was owned by sugar cane planters, the widow C. Richards and her son P.C. Richards. Another slave magnate from Louisiana was Antoine Dubuclet, who owned over 100 slaves. He had an estate worth $264,000 in 1860 dollar value. This was in comparison with the wealth of White men of that time, averaging $3,978."

 

William Ellison Jr. of South Carolina, a free man of color, was one of the wealthiest plantation owners in the state. He was the largest slave owner in his area, with 171 slaves, and over 900 acres of land producing massive amounts of tobacco. He donated large sums of money and foodstuffs to the Confederate Army, offered the military 53 of his slaves, and his mixed race grandson fought in the Confederate Army.

Many of the slave owners were born in bondage but were later freed and, through either inheritance, gifts, or work ethic, improved their situation, eventually moving into the profitable business of slavery. It was not uncommon for free African Americans to own slaves. Thousands did so. According to the 1860 census, only 1.4% white people owned slaves in 4.8% of southern slave states, but 28% of free African Americans in New Orleans owned slaves. McCluney wrote, “In South Carolina, where forty-three percent of the free African American families owned slaves, the average number of slaves held per owner was about six. Similarly, in Louisiana, forty percent of free African American families owned slaves, twenty-six percent of those in Mississippi held slaves, twenty-five percent of those in Alabama, and this was also true for twenty percent of those in Georgia.”

 

Status

Their wealth elevated the status of these slaveowners of color, gaining them status among the highest in the white community, intermingling with, socializing, even marrying (even when it was illegal), and becoming some of the most well-respected people in their community. McCluney wrote of Justus Angel, born a slave in South Carolina but who became “a wealthy Black master who lived in Colleton District, South Carolina, in 1830. Angel was a plantation owner who owned 84 slaves, a staggering number even for a Black master. He was a man of great wealth and influence, which allowed him to amass such a large number of enslaved individuals under his control.” Of this wealthy planter class, he wrote, “These individuals often took steps to associate with the White elite, viewing themselves as an extension of this class. In doing so, the Black slaveowners were able to carve out a place for themselves within the ruling class.” Then there is William Johnson in Mississippi, who:

“Became a successful entrepreneur with a barbershop, bath house, bookstore, and land holdings. Though a former slave, in 1834 he would own three slaves and about 3,000 acres of property and would eventually own sixteen slaves before his death. He even hired out his slaves to haul coal and sand. Throughout his life, the white community in Natchez and Adams County held Johnson in high regard. He associated with and was close to many of Adams County’s most prominent white families. Following Johnson’s untimely death at the hands of a “free black, Baylor Winn, the Natchez Courier was moved to comment that Johnson held a “respected position [in the community] on account of his character, intelligence and deportment.”

 

Further, McCluney argues that it was the common opinion of slaves that African American masters made harsher masters, and they generally preferred white masters to their own color, for example, William Ellison had a reputation for harsh treatment of his slaves. One interviewed slave said, “You might think, master, dat dey would be good to dar own nation; but dey is not. I will tell you the truth, massa; I know I ‘se got to answer; and it’s a fact, they are very bad masters, sar. I’d rather be a servant to any man in de world, dan to a brack man. If I was sold to a brack man, I’d drown myself. I would dat—I’d drown myself! Dough I shouldn’t like to do dat; but I wouldn’t be sold to a coloured master for anything.”

 

Conclusion

Frederick Law Olmsted traveled south and told of the many wealthy African American planters he saw and interviewed a slave who said the African American masters “bought black folks, he said, and had servants of their own. They were very bad masters, very hard and cruel . . . If he had got to be sold, he would like best to have an American master buy him. The French [black Creole] masters were very severe, and ‘dey whip dar n****** most to deff—dey whipe de flesh off of ‘em.”

Far from abolitionists, these rich masters were reluctant to let their slave labor go as many whites had done. McCluney Quotes B. F. Jonas, of New Orleans who said “I have never heard of a case where a free African American owner of slaves voluntarily manumitted his slaves. On the contrary, they were as a rule considered hard task masters, who got out of their slave property all that they could.” And as has been recorded in Defending Dixie's Land, many of these southern masters supported the preservation of slavery and the continuation and protection of the Confederacy, to maintain bondage of their own brothers.

 

Jeb Smith is an author and speaker whose books include Defending Dixie's Land: What Every American Should Know About The South And The Civil War written under the pen name Isaac C. Bishop,  Missing Monarchy: Correcting Misconceptions About The Middle Ages, Medieval Kingship, Democracy, And Liberty and he also authored Defending the Middle Ages: Little Known Truths About the Crusades, Inquisitions, Medieval Women, and More. Smith has written over 120 articles found in several publications.

Vitus Jonassen Bering remains one of the most compelling figures of the great age of exploration, a navigator whose journeys helped redraw the world's map and whose legacy continues to shape the understanding of the northern Pacific. Born in 1681 in the small Danish town of Horsens, Bering grew up in a modest family but showed early ambition and aptitude for a life at sea. Denmark in the late seventeenth century was deeply connected to maritime trade and naval service, and like many young men of his region, Bering was drawn to the ocean. He entered naval service in his teens and soon began to sail widely, developing both technical skill and intellectual curiosity.

Terry Bailey explains.

A depiction of Vitus Bering's expedition being wrecked on the Commander Islands in 1741.

Vitus Bering’s decision in 1703 to join the Russian Navy, then being rapidly modernized by Peter the Great, proved the turning point of his life, opening the door to one of history's most consequential careers in exploration. Bering first gained the confidence of the Russian court through disciplined service and steady competence in naval operations, particularly during the Great Northern War. By the 1720s, Russia's ambitions had shifted toward the vast, unmapped territories of Siberia and the Pacific. The question of whether Asia and North America were connected by land remained one of the great geographic uncertainties of the era. In 1724, Peter the Great authorized what became known as the First Kamchatka Expedition, placing Bering in command. His mission was deceptively simple: travel across Siberia, build ships on the remote Kamchatka Peninsula, and set sail eastward to determine the relationship between the continents. The sheer logistical scale of this undertaking, thousands of kilometers of wilderness, extreme climates, and complex local interactions made it one of the most ambitious scientific programs of the eighteenth century.

The First Kamchatka Expedition lasted from 1725 to 1730 and tested every skill Bering possessed. After an arduous overland journey from St. Petersburg to Okhotsk, he supervised the construction of the small vessel Saint Gabriel and, in 1728, sailed north along the coast. Bering's most significant achievement during this voyage was his passage through what is now the Bering Strait, the narrow channel separating Asia from North America. Although he did not sight the coast of the American continent itself, fog and distance prevented the definitive moment, his careful observations confirmed that no land connection existed and that a navigable waterway separated the two continents.

This conclusion, though at the time somewhat understated, had enormous global implications, refuting long-held cartographic myths and opening new horizons for exploration, trade, and scientific inquiry. His success led to an even more ambitious undertaking: the Second Kamchatka Expedition, or Great Northern Expedition, launched in 1733. This was one of the largest scientific expeditions ever mounted, involving thousands of personnel, multiple ships, naturalists, cartographers, and scholars. Its purpose was nothing less than the comprehensive mapping of Russia's vast northern and eastern frontiers and the full exploration of the Pacific coasts of Siberia and the North American continent. Under Bering's command, the expedition produced some of the most detailed charts of the Arctic coastline to date and enriched science with vast collections of biological, geological, and ethnographic data. It also laid the foundations for Russia's later commercial presence in Alaska, expanding European knowledge of the region's peoples, fauna, and natural resources.

The pinnacle of Bering's exploratory achievements occurred in 1741, when he and Aleksei Chirikov each commanded vessels on a voyage east from Kamchatka. During this journey, Bering sighted the southern coast of Alaska, while Chirikov made landfall separately on the Alexander Archipelago. These discoveries confirmed the existence of a large North American landmass far to the northwest, ending centuries of speculation. Along the Alaskan coast, Bering's crew collected valuable geographical information and encountered wildlife unknown in Europe, including the now-extinct Steller's sea cow, first documented by the expedition's naturalist, Georg Wilhelm Steller. The scientific material gathered during this voyage—flora, fauna, coastal descriptions—became an enduring contribution to European knowledge of the Pacific world.

Yet Bering's later life was marked by hardship. On the return voyage from Alaska, his ship, the Saint Peter, was wrecked on what would later be named Bering Island. There, in the treacherous winter of 1741–1742, the stranded expedition struggled to survive. Ill, exhausted, and suffering from what was likely scurvy, Bering died on the island in December 1741. His companions buried him in the sands above the beach, and only in the twentieth century did archaeological excavations uncover what are believed to be his remains. Studies on Bering Island revealed traces of the expedition's encampment, artefacts from the shipwreck, and the physical toll the harsh conditions had taken on the men, adding a poignant material dimension to the historical record.

Although Bering himself wrote relatively little in the form of personal memoir, his official journals, reports, and navigational charts form a crucial part of the documentary legacy of his expeditions. These were carefully preserved in Russian archives and later studied by historians of exploration, providing insight into his methods and the organizational challenges he faced. Much of what is known about day-to-day events, wildlife observations, and interactions with Indigenous peoples comes from the writings of his companions, particularly Steller. Nonetheless, Bering's own meticulous documentation, his coastal measurements, bearings, and hydrographic notes remain indispensable for understanding the achievements of the Great Northern Expedition.

In the centuries since his death, Vitus Bering's influence has only grown. The naming of the Bering Sea, Bering Strait, and Bering Island stands as a testament to his significance, but his deeper contribution lies in transforming Europe's conception of the North Pacific. His voyages shifted the boundaries of known geography, inspired further scientific inquiry, and facilitated cultural and economic links across the northern ocean. Moreover, his expeditions demonstrated the potential of coordinated, state-sponsored scientific exploration on a grand scale, prefiguring the later exploratory enterprises of the Enlightenment and beyond. Bering's life, shaped by quiet determination and monumental purpose, continues to resonate as a story of human endurance at the edge of the known world, a record of the power of curiosity and the relentless pursuit of knowledge.

In reflecting upon the life and legacy of Vitus Bering, it becomes clear that his achievements extend far beyond the geographical features that bear his name. His voyages represent a decisive moment in humanity's ongoing effort to understand the planet, bridging the gap between myth and measurable reality. Bering operated in an age when large expanses of the globe remained uncharted, yet his approach to exploration was grounded in discipline, scientific observation, and a commitment to accuracy. He brought a quiet, methodical determination to endeavors that were anything but quiet or simple, and in doing so helped to usher in a new era of empirical discovery. His journeys across Siberia and the Pacific elevated Russia's geographical knowledge, enriched European science, and altered the world's cartographic worldview, ensuring that future generations would navigate with greater certainty and insight.

Bering's story also encapsulates the human cost of exploration, a reminder that progress often comes at great personal sacrifice. The challenges he faced, from perilous seas to the unforgiving winters of Kamchatka and Bering Island, underscore the resilience demanded of explorers who dared venture into the unknown with limited technology and fragile resources. His death, far from home on a desolate shore, stands as a solemn statement to the risks he willingly shouldered in the pursuit of knowledge. Yet even in death, his contribution did not fade. The archaeological discoveries on Bering Island and the careful preservation of his charts and journals give his work a lasting presence, allowing modern scholars to trace the contours of his expeditions and appreciate the precision of his observations.

Ultimately, Vitus Bering's legacy lies not only in the lands he charted but also in the intellectual landscape he reshaped. His expeditions expanded the boundaries of the known world and helped lay the foundation for future exploration, scientific inquiry, and international exchange across the northern Pacific. Through perseverance and skill, he transformed uncertainty into understanding and mystery into mapped reality. More than two centuries later, his life continues to inspire, proving a reminder that progress is built by those willing to push beyond familiar horizons. In charting the edges of continents, Bering charted the edges of human possibility, leaving behind a legacy as vast and enduring as the waters that now bear his name.

 

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The Winged Hussars of the Polish Lithuanian Commonwealth dominated the battlefields of Eastern Europe from the 16th to the 18th centuries. Sporting massive artificial wings on their armor, these aristocratic warriors were among the most feared and cohesive cavalry forces in European history.

Here, Brian Hughes tells us about the Polish Winged Hussars.

A Hussar formation at the 1610 Battle of Klushino. By Szymon Boguszowicz.

Origins

Eastern Europe has a deep equestrian and cavalry tradition, due in part to its topography. Active from the 16th to the 18thcentury. The Winged Hussars showed a consistently remarkable ability to seemingly defy the odds snatching victory from otherwise imminent defeat.

Eastern Europe has a rich history and tradition of elite horsemanship. Much of the region is comprised of plains and flat grassland advantageous to horse rearing. Successive waves of elite horse warriors such as the Huns, Magyars, and Tartars had raided and settled the area at various times. Likewise, much of the warfare that defined this region throughout the Middle Ages and early modern era involved larger cavalry forces than the more heavily populated and more urbanized parts of Western Europe.

Hussars derive their name from the Hungarian “Huserones” and originated in the Kingdom of Hungary sometime in the late 15th century as a light cavalry force. The name later became incorporated by a whole host of Central and Eastern European countries such as Serbia, The Holy Roman Empire and Poland becoming renowned as some of the best light horse units in all of Europe.

The Polish Lithuanian Commonwealth was one of the premier states in Early Modern Europe. Engaging with a host of enemies mainly the Ottoman Turks, Swedes and Russians, a series of drastic military reforms were undergone to bolster and safeguard its territory and people as the state grew and became more vulnerable. These included but were not limited to modernizing land and naval forces and modifying its already prolific cavalry.

Drawing on the litany of pre-established equine traditions, the Winged Hussars as they became known drew their ranks from the upper classes and nobility and adapting their role into a heavy shock cavalry instead of the more traditional nimble light horse tactics of their predecessors.

Riding in tight formation these heavily armored horsemen could smash into enemy formations with lethal efficiency thus enabling infantry and lighter cavalry units to exploit the gaps and gain tactical advantages ensuring victory. The Winged Hussars displayed impressive capability in the diverse geographical and climatic conditions from which they operated.

 

Arms and Armor

The Winged Hussars were well armored, well equipped and rode expertly bred war horses. One reason in which their ranks were filled almost exclusively by nobles was the sheer cost of such expenditures.

Wings: The signature and iconic wings worn by the Hussars were fashioned out of feathers from a variety of raptor birds, mainly Eagle and Falcon. Originally the wings were placed on their saddles before being fastened onto the backs of their armor. The purpose was twofold. In an era of extravagant military arms and uniforms the Wings were visually impressive on parade grounds and intimidating foes. The Wings also may have produced an odd and terrifying din when the Hussars charged, frightening enemy soldiers and horses in the process.

Armor: Hussars were clad in heavy steel armor typical of the era and often sported exotic animal furs such as leopards and saddles decked out with fine silk and lace. Beneath their armor and hides Hussars typically donned red or crimson short coats called zupans with helmets encrusted with gems or plumed with exotic feathers. The Winged Hussars took great pride in their appearance on and off the battlefield.

Horses: Expensive warhorses typically Polish-Arabian breeds were the predominant mount used by the Winged Hussars. These horses were both incredibly strong as they could carry a heavily armored rider in addition to their great endurance with long marches ranging across a variety of terrain in and around Central and Eastern Europe.

Weapons: They were well trained, well-armed and capable of wielding a lance, (kopia) saber, (szabla) and various firearms with expert lethality. The Hussars could combat a variety of foes. From conventual infantry and cavalry units which defined 16th and 17th century European armies to the expert light cavalry of the Tatars.

 

Notable Battles

Khlushino: One of the finest victories performed by the Winged Hussars was the Battle of Klushino fought on July 4th, 1610. The heavily outnumbered Polish-Lithuanian force of about 6,000 with the bulk of the army of 5,000 Winged Hussars crushed a Muscovite army of over 30,000. Over the course of a five-hour battle the Winged Hussars superior training, tactics, and troop cohesion made it possible to smash their adversaries’ lines, disintegrating their forces and routing them in the process.  

Vienna: The Winged Hussars most renowned moment came in September 1683 at the Siege of Vienna. For weeks the Ottomans under Mustapha Pasha had been battering the “Golden Apple of Europe” coming closer to victory with each passing day. Finally, a coalition of predominantly Catholic Holy League Forces arrived to lift the Siege. John Sobieski King of Poland an experienced soldier led a contingent of roughly 4,000 Winged Hussars. Devising a plan Sobieski outflanked the Ottoman Camp and along with his Winged Hussars led what was possibly the largest cavalry charge in the history of Europe at the head of some twenty thousand horsemen devasting the Ottoman expeditionary force and relieving the city in the process.

 

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Posted
AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones
CategoriesBlog Post