The lend-lease program established between the Allies and the Soviet Union involved the provision of allied equipment to bolster the Soviet war effort during World War II. This aid played a crucial role in supporting the Soviets during the initial stages of the conflict because the Soviet Union’s production capability was relatively low earlier in the war. As a gesture of gratitude, the Soviets agreed to repay this assistance by sending £1.5 million sterling worth of gold to the Allies. However, tragedy struck with the sinking of the HMS Edinburgh, the vessel tasked with transporting this gold to Britain, resulting in the loss of the precious cargo.

Kyle Brett explains.

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The severely damaged stern of the HMS Edinburgh's after being torpedoed by U-456.

HMS Edinburgh’s service

Edinburgh was a town-class light cruiser that was launched on March 31, 1938. She would spend the beginning years of the war protecting convoys in the North Sea. At one point she was sent to hunt down the German Battleship Scharnhorst but was unable to locate the ship. After this Edinburgh was sent to protect convoys heading to North Africa and the Middle East.

In the middle of this term, she was sent to the Bay of Biscay to intercept the German Battleship Bismark, but the Bismark never made it to Edinburgh, meeting her fate far west of the Bay. After her travels to the Mediterranean, Edinburgh would be sent to the North Sea once again protecting convoys bound for the Soviet Union with aid from the Western allies.  She would also spend some time patrolling Iceland for German vessels. She would not see too much action here as Germans would only be hunting convoys and not patrols.

 

The Soviet gold

The lend-lease act was a major part of Allied cooperation during the war. Many of the pieces of equipment that the Allies would send to the Soviet Union would be put to good use. US and British planes fought at the battles of Moscow and Stalingrad, the mighty Katyusha rocket launchers would be loaded onto Studebaker US6 trucks and would be utilized by the Soviets throughout the war. The allied equipment made a large impact on the war and played a part in the success of the Soviets.

The Soviets would seek to send some sort of repayment to the allies, and this would be through gold. The war had kicked the Soviet industrial machine into high gear and thus their mining operations grew substantially from this. The Soviets would use gold, and other precious metals like platinum to help the allies and to pay them for the support that they had given the Soviet Union during the early part of the war. 4.5 tons of this gold would be loaded onto the HMS Edinburgh in Murmansk and sent to Britain around the top of the Scandinavian Peninsula.

 

Departure and first sighting

Edinburgh was the commanding escort of Convoy QP: 11, which consisted of 13 Merchant ships of various allied nationalities and 18 warships. The composition of the convoy was one cruiser: Edinburgh, six destroyers, four minesweepers, and one armed trawler. The convoy had just dropped off supplies to the Soviet Union and was making a return trip to Britain. 

On April 28, 1942, the convoy would depart the port of Murmansk headed for Britain. The next day as the convoy was traversing the North Sea they would be spotted by a German spotter plane. This plane would relay its position to the German command. They would then order all nearby U-boats to attack the convoy, as well as sending a nearby task force of 3 destroyers to intercept the convoy.

 

April 30, 1942

As the day progressed the calmness of the last two days was broken by two U-boats who started making attacks on the convoy. The two U-boats, U-88 and U-456, had not found any success in their attacks earlier in the day. Later in the day U-456 would make another pass on the convoy and found success with this attack. U-456 launched a spread of torpedoes at HMS Edinburgh and scored 2 hits on her. One torpedo hit the forward boiler room, crippling Edinburgh’s speed. The second torpedo smashed into the stern, blasting the entire stern of the ship off. This stern hit also destroyed the rudder and took 2 of the 4 propellers off Edinburgh. The crew closed all the bulkheads immediately which saved her from sinking after the second impact.

This concluded U-88 and U-456’s attacks on the convoy. Edinburgh would be forced to turn back to Murmansk as she was unable to make the journey back to Britain with the immense damage she had sustained. Edinburgh would be escorted by two destroyers Foresight and Forester on her journey back to port. Murmansk also had sent 8 ships to help protect and help return Edinburgh to port so she could repair.

 

May 1, 1942

The 3 German destroyers dispatched to intercept the convoy were Z7 Hermann Schoemann, Z24, and Z25 of destroyer group Arkits. They had orders to attack the ships of the convoy and after hearing the success of U-456’s attacks they also had orders to sink Edinburgh. There was limited visibility as there was on-and-off rain and snow. The destroyer group opened up with their guns on the convoy at 14:05.

The remaining 4 destroyers protecting the convoy raced to screen the convoy from the attacking German destroyers. They started off the engagement with each other at around 10,000 yd. They traded fire with the Germans as the convoy tried to retreat to safety. The British destroyer Amazon was hit twice by German guns and received moderate damage. A spread of torpedoes was fired at the convoy and found a target at 14:30 sinking the only Soviet merchant ship in the convoy the Tsiolkovski. At 17:50 the German destroyers retired their convoy pursuit and turned to hunt down Edinburgh.

 

May 2, 1942

Edinburgh was spotted east of the convoy at 6:17 limping along at two knots. The Foresight and Forester were escorting her along with 4 British minesweepers and a Soviet guard ship the Rubin that met up with the group from Murmansk. Edinburgh was being towed because she could not sail in a straight line, only in circles due to the damage to her propellers and rudder. The lead German destroyer Z7 Hermann Schoemann had been separated from her other two destroyers and decided to close the distance to Edinburgh to launch torpedoes at the group. As the German group was spotted the tow lines that were used to keep Edinburgh sailing in a straight line were cut, causing her to sail in circles as the escorts went to screen the cruiser from the incoming destroyers.

Edinburgh, with no fire control systems due to the damage from the earlier day, sent two salvos toward Hermann Schoemann. The first salvo had missed its target, the second salvo hit Hermann Schoemann in both of her engine rooms. This forced her to turn away from the engagement and to create a smoke screen for her to slip away from the fight.

At 6:45 Z24 and Z25 arrived at the engagement hitting and disabling Forrester. They moved onto Foresight badly damaging her and afterwards launching torpedoes at the two British destroyers. One of these torpedoes had missed its original target and at 6:52 crashed into Edinburgh. The torpedo had hit directly on the opposite side of the first torpedo hit from U-456, which meant only the deck and keel plating were holding the ship from breaking in two.

 

Aftermath of the Battle

Z24 and Z25 saw the 4 British minesweepers and were scared off by their presence, most likely misjudging the ships' classes and thinking they were a bigger threat than they were. They turned to rejoin their ally who had fled. They reached Hermann Schoemann at 8:15 and Z24 rescued the remaining crew that she could fit. The Herman Schoemann was scuttled and the remaining crew in life rafts were picked up by U-88 and the Germans retreated from the battle.

The decision to abandon ship was given on Edinburgh and she had her crew evacuated to the nearby British minesweepers Harrier and Gossamer who each took around 400 sailors. After Edinburgh was evacuated Harrier tried to scuttle her with her 4-inch guns, but after 20 shots she was still afloat. There were even attempts to drop depth charges near her to no avail. Finally, Foresight launched her last torpedo into her, sending her to the bottom. This sent all 4.5 tons of gold straight to the bottom of the North Sea.

The British destroyers and minesweepers made a safe return to Murmansk and the original convoy would be unsuccessfully attacked by two more U-boats to no success finally making it to Iceland. The only casualties were the Edinburgh, her gold, and the Tsiolkovski merchant vessel.

 

What happened to the gold?

The gold aboard Edinburgh was of great importance to the British government after the war and they were keen on recovering that gold from the sea floor. In 1954 the British government awarded the salvage rights to Risdon Beazley Ltd. This salvage operation was halted due to rising tensions between the Soviet Union and the West.

However, in the 1970s, the price of gold spiked, renewing the desire to recover the gold. So, the British returned to the wreck to recover the gold. Utilizing state-of-the-art equipment, the divers descended to the wreck, which was 800 ft deep, and were able to locate 431 of the 465 gold ingots aboard the vessel. The haul, valued at forty million pounds at the time of recovery, served as the primary motivation for the British to find this gold in the Edinburgh. In 1985, a further 29 bars were recovered, leaving 5 unaccounted for.

 

 

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Reference

Tucker, Spencer. World War II at sea an encyclopedia. Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO, 2012.

The Japanese surprise attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941 was a very complex operation that required precise information about the movement and disposition of the US Pacific Fleet, based at Hawaii. This information was gathered on the ground by a spy named Takeo Yoshikawa, who cabled regular reports to Tokyo. These reports proved to be invaluable to the success of the Japanese attack. However, this constant supply of information almost gave the game away.

Here, Alan Bardos, author of a related novel: Amazon US | Amazon UK, considers whether the attack on Pearl Harbor could have been avoided.

During the attack on Pearl Harbor, the West Virginia was sunk by six torpedoes and two bombs.

Our Man in Hawaii

The US Pacific Fleet moved from its bases on the West Coast of America to Pearl Harbor in 1940, so the Japanese consequently had very little information about it. The sailing of their fleet over 3,500 miles from home waters to Hawaii was a massive undertaking that required their ships to be refueled numerous times en route. Before taking such a risk they therefore needed to know what was waiting for them when they arrived and the best time to attack.

Bureau 3 (Intelligence) of the Imperial Japanese Navy’s General Staff attached Takeo Yoshikawa to the Japanese Consulate-General in Honolulu. His mission was to gather news about Pearl Harbor. His orders were vague and were constantly refined by further instructions from his superiors in Tokyo.

Yoshikawa meticulously gathered vital intelligence on the movements of the US Pacific Fleet and Hawaii’s defenses. He spent his days travelling between various observation points around Hawaii, reconnoitering airfields and the US Fleet. Changing his clothes several times through the course of the day, he would blend in as anyone from a tourist to a Filipino-American laborer. Yoshikawa even took geisha girls as cover on sightseeing flights over Pearl Harbor. Postcards he supplied were found in the cockpits of Japanese aircraft shot down over Pearl Harbor. Crucially, Yoshikawa was said to have discovered that Sunday mornings were the best time to attack, when the Fleet was home from maneuvers.

Yoshikawa communicated this information regularly to Tokyo through commercial American telegraph companies. In the run up to the attack Tokyo’s need for information increased steadily, to the extent that Yoshikawa was reporting the US Fleet’s movements on a daily basis, leaving a large paper trail of his activities.

The number of cables sent by the Japanese Consulate hadn’t gone unnoticed and Robert L. Shivers, the FBI’s Special Agent In Charge in Hawaii tried to persuade the cable companies to share the coded messages with him but they refused, not wishing to break Federal Law.

 

Magic intercepts

American Intelligence had broken the Japanese diplomatic codes and were regularly intercepting and decrypting Japanese diplomatic traffic, as part of a program code named Magic. This used a machine code named Purple to decode these messages, which were then translated manually. The Americans were therefore aware that war was coming in the Pacific, but only knew as much as Japan’s diplomats, who were not informed in any detail of their Military’s plans. The US Army and Navy Departments in Washington did issue war warnings to their Pacific commanders, but the warnings were consequently vague and did not suggest that Hawaii would be a target.

Faced with an overwhelming amount of decrypted information, American Intelligence focused their efforts on translating the high level communications between Tokyo and the Japanese Embassy in Washington, which was conducting peace talks with the American government. This did eventually provide a warning of a coming attack, but it did not say where it would be.

 

Dorothy Edgers and the deferred intercepts

Yoshikawa’s telegram’s to Tokyo gave precisely this information, but as Hawaii was considered a diplomatic backwater, they were left untranslated in the “deferred” pile until one bored newbie in the Naval Cryptographic Section decided to look at them.

Mrs. Dorothy Edgers, a former school teacher in Japan, had been working as a translator for two weeks when she found herself in the office on a Saturday morning. She had nothing to do, but was eager to be involved in this strange new world of signals intelligence and started to translate the Hawaii decrypts.

She struck gold immediately realizing the importance of the correspondence between Yoshikawa and Tokyo. Enwrapped, Mrs. Edgers translated telegram after telegram that gave away the military secrets of her country, from real time movements of its battleships, to the lack of torpedo nets protecting them, to the position of the airfields tasked with defending them. This was clearly more than the routine reports of a sidelined diplomat in a backwater, but information for a full-scale attack.

Mrs. Edgers reported her findings to her immediate supervisor Chief Ship’s Clerk Bryant. He saw their significance, but it was Saturday and they were finishing at 12:00pm so he told her it would wait until next week.

Not put off, Dorothy Edgers continued to translate the decrypted messages, waiting in the office for the return of the Translation Branch chief, Captain Alvin Kramer, who had been making his rounds delivering the latest high priority Magic Intercepts. Mrs. Edgers briefed Kramer on what she’d found and was reprimanded for her trouble.

Tired and with a number of other conflicting priorities, Kramer was annoyed that she worked late after the office had closed and was unhappy about the quality of her translation. He dismissed her in no uncertain terms and she was told once again that it would wait until next week.

Ordinarily, Bryant and Kramer would have been right, but on this occasion it was the day before the Pearl Harbor attack.

 

December 7th 1941 - A date that will live in infamy

The next day, on reviewing the priority daily intercepts between Tokyo and their Embassy in Washington, Kramer saw things were clearly coming to a head. Tokyo had instructed its delegation to end their negotiations at 1pm precisely.

Kramer had been stationed in Hawaii and knew that 1pm in Washington was dawn in Hawaii, and worked out what time 1pm would be at all the US bases in the Pacific, with it being a few hours before dawn in the Philippines.

He passed his findings onto Commander McCollum and Captain Wilkinson, his superiors in the Office of Naval Intelligence. They took them to Admiral Stark the Chief of Naval Operations, who was not overly impressed, but after further discussion and consulting with General Marshall, his opposite number in the Army, Stark agreed to issue an alert to his bases in the Pacific. However, due to atmospheric conditions, they were unable to send the warning to Hawaii and it was sent as a low priority telegram and arrived just after the attack had finished.

They believed that the main threat they were facing was an amphibious landing in the Philippines, where it would be the optimum time for that type of attack and there were also reports of Japanese ships moving in that direction. Had Yoshikawa’s reports been more widely distributed, a very different conclusion might have been reached.

Admiral Kimmel, the Commander in Chief of the Pacific Fleet and the man blamed for the attack categorically argued that had he been aware of the Hawaiian decrypts, he would have been better prepared to counter the surprise attack. That was certainly the findings of a subsequent congressional investigation.

 

Many of the events depicted in this article inspired my novel ‘Rising Tide’, which can be purchased here: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Book full name: Rising Tide (Daniel Nichols Spy Thrillers Book 1) eBook : Bardos, Alan : Kindle Store

 

 

References

Japan's Spy at Pearl Harbor: Memoir of an Imperial Navy Secret Agent, Takeo Yoshikawa, McFarland (2 Mar. 2020).

The Broken Seal: "Operation Magic" and the Secret Road to Pearl Harbor, Ladislas Farago, Westholme Publishing; Reprint edition (25 Oct. 2012).

A Matter of Honor: Pearl Harbor: Betrayal, Blame, and a Family's Quest for Justice, by Anthony Summers and Robbyn Swan, Harper; Reprint edition (15 Nov. 2016).

Countdown to Pearl Harbor: The Twelve Days to the Attack, by Steve Twomey, Simon & Schuster; Illustrated edition (1 Nov. 2016).

Pearl Harbor: From Infamy to Greatness, by Craig Nelson, Weidenfeld & Nicolson; 1st Edition (10 Nov. 2016).

https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/1960/december/top-secret-assignment

On January 30, 1948, the world mourned the loss of one of its greatest advocates for peace and nonviolence, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, affectionately known as Mahatma Gandhi. His assassination sent shockwaves through India and the rest of the world, leaving many to ponder the question: What if Gandhi had not been assassinated?

Terry Bailey considers this question.

Mahatma Gandhi in 1942.

Before delving into the hypothetical, it's crucial to understand the profound impact Gandhi had during his lifetime. His philosophy of nonviolent resistance, or Satyagraha, not only played a major role in India's independence movement but also inspired countless civil rights and freedom movements worldwide. Gandhi's teachings on ahimsa, (nonviolence) and his emphasis on social justice continue to resonate with people across generations.

If Gandhi had not been assassinated, his presence would have significantly influenced post-independence India's political landscape. At the time of his death, India was grappling with religious and political tensions, particularly between Hindus and Muslims. Gandhi's vision for a united, pluralistic India would have likely shaped policies and initiatives aimed at fostering harmony and inclusivity.

Gandhi was a staunch advocate for economic self-sufficiency and rural development. His promotion of khadi, (hand-spun cloth) and cottage industries was aimed to empower rural communities and reduce dependence on imported goods. Had Gandhi lived longer, he might have spearheaded initiatives to strengthen India's rural economy and bridge the urban-rural divide, emphasizing sustainable development practices.

 

Reforms

Another area where Gandhi's prolonged presence could have made a significant impact is in social reforms and equality. He championed the rights of marginalized communities, including Dalits, (formerly known as untouchables) and women. Gandhi's advocacy for social justice would likely have continued, influencing policies and societal norms to address caste discrimination, gender inequality, and other social injustices.

Beyond India's borders, Gandhi's influence on international relations and peace building would have been profound. His principles of nonviolence and dialogue could have played a crucial role in resolving conflicts and promoting peaceful coexistence among nations. Gandhi's leadership on global platforms would have amplified calls for disarmament, human rights, and environmental stewardship.

 

However, it's essential to acknowledge that Gandhi's continued presence would not have been without challenges and opposition. His ideologies faced criticism from various quarters, including radical factions and those advocating for more aggressive approaches to governance and conflict resolution. Navigating these differing viewpoints while staying true to his principles would have been a delicate balance for Gandhi.

 

Legacy

Even without the hypothetical scenario of Gandhi surviving beyond 1948, his legacy has endured, albeit in different ways. His teachings and philosophy continue to inspire movements for justice, equality, and peace worldwide. Gandhi's emphasis on individual and collective responsibility for social change still remains relevant in addressing contemporary challenges.

It cannot be more over stated that the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi robbed the world of a visionary leader whose influence extended far beyond his lifetime. Imagining a world where Gandhi had not been assassinated offers interesting insight into the potential trajectories of India's development, global peace efforts, and social justice movements. While we can only speculate on what might have been, Gandhi's teachings continue to guide and inspire people in their quests for a better world, reminding us of the enduring power of nonviolence, truth, and compassion.

 

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What if? In this case, (what if?), refers to John F Kennedy. As we ask this  question; what if John F Kennedy had not been assassinated? This intriguing question suggests an immense train of thought.

Terry Bailey considers the question.

President John F. Kennedy just before being assassinated.

Certain events in history stand out as key periods in time, especially for those individuals who lived through those times when particular events actually took place. The assassination of John F Kennedy is one such moment in time. It is said that many individuals can tell you where and what they were doing when the news broken.

The assassination of John F. Kennedy, the charismatic leader of the United States of America, (USA), on that fateful day in 1963, remains etched in collective memory. Yet, what if the tragic event had never occurred? What if Kennedy had continued to guide America through the tumultuous decade that followed?

In this speculative exploration we take a journey into a possible alternate scenario where Kennedy's leadership endured, thus able to ponder the potential ramifications and the enduring legacy of a leader untouched by an assassin's bullet.

To envision a world where John F. Kennedy survives, we must first grasp the landscape of his presidency. Kennedy, renowned for his eloquence, charisma, and vision, steered the USA, through a period marked by Cold War tensions, economic upheaval, and social transformation. His presidency was defined by initiatives aimed at fostering international cooperation, advancing civil rights, and navigating the intricacies of global politics.

Had Kennedy not fallen victim to assassination, his continued leadership would have undoubtedly left an indelible mark not only on American society but also the world stage.

His commitment to diplomacy and dialogue might have ushered in a new era of détente, easing tensions between East and West and laying the groundwork for more peaceful coexistence. Moreover, his advocacy for civil rights could have spurred further progress in addressing systemic injustices and promoting equality both at home and abroad.

 

Global influence

Economic policies under Kennedy's stewardship might have focused on bolstering infrastructure, investing in education, and fostering innovation, thereby fueling economic growth and prosperity. His ambitious vision for space exploration, exemplified by the lunar landing mission, could have inspired renewed scientific and technological advancements, shaping the future of humanity's exploration of the cosmos, which has only been realized today.

The ripple effects of Kennedy's continued leadership would have reverberated far beyond America’s borders, influencing geopolitical dynamics and reshaping international relations. His emphasis on diplomacy and multilateralism might have led to greater cooperation among nations, averting conflicts and forging alliances based on shared interests and mutual respect.

In the realm of nuclear disarmament, Kennedy's unwavering commitment to arms control agreements could have hastened progress towards a safer, more secure world, reducing the specter of nuclear annihilation that loomed large during the Cold War era. His adept handling of national and International dilemmas, such as the Cuban Missile Crisis, could have set a precedent for defusing tensions and resolving conflicts through dialogue and negotiation.

Moreover, Kennedy's advocacy for human rights and democracy may have inspired movements for freedom and self-determination around the globe, challenging authoritarian regimes and promoting the spread of democratic ideals. His leadership would have provided a beacon of hope for those striving for liberty and justice, amplifying the voices of the oppressed and marginalized.

 

Conclusion

In contemplating the hypothetical continuation of Kennedy's presidency, one cannot overlook the enduring legacy he would have left behind. His vision, courage, and charisma captured the imagination of millions, inspiring future generations to pursue noble ideals and strive for a better world. His tragic and early death robbed the world of a leader whose potential remained largely untapped, leaving behind a legacy tinged with unfulfilled promises and lingering questions of what might have been.

Yet, even in the realm of conjecture, Kennedy's legacy endures as a testament to the power of leadership in shaping the course of history. His words still resonate, his deeds still inspire, and his vision still beckons us forward towards a brighter future. In the end, whether in reality or in speculation, John F. Kennedy stands as a towering figure in the pantheon of great leaders, reminding us of the boundless possibilities that await those who dare to dream and strive for greatness.

 

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Few events in history have had such far-reaching consequences as the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria on June 28, 1914, in Sarajevo. This single act of violence set off a chain reaction that led to the First World War, reshaping the geopolitical landscape of the world. However, what if Franz Ferdinand had not been assassinated? What alternate course might history have taken? Delving into the speculative realm of "what ifs" we can consider the potential ramifications of a world where the Archduke either was not assassinated or survived the assassination attempt.

Terry Bailey considers this question.

Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

The first and most immediate consequence of Franz Ferdinand's survival would have been the avoidance or delay of the First World War. His assassination served as the catalyst for the conflict, prompting Austria-Hungary to issue an ultimatum to Serbia, which in turn led to a series of alliances being invoked, drawing Europe into a devastating war. Without this trigger, the delicate balance of power that existed among the European nations might have persisted, potentially averting the catastrophic conflict that claimed millions of lives.

With the potential avoidance of the First World War, the geopolitical landscape of Europe would have remained vastly different than we understand it today. The collapse of empires such as the Austro-Hungarian, Ottoman, Russian, and German would not have occurred in the same manner, altering the course of history for countless nations and peoples. The rise of communism in Russia, the Treaty of Versailles, and the subsequent economic turmoil that paved the way for the Second World War, all these pivotal events might have been drastically different or potentially avoided altogether.

One of the key factors in Franz Ferdinand's assassination was the simmering ethnic tensions within the Austro-Hungarian Empire, particularly in Bosnia and Herzegovina. The Archduke, who was heir to the throne, advocated for a federalist solution that would grant greater autonomy to the empire's various ethnic groups. Had he lived, Franz Ferdinand may have pursued these reforms more aggressively, seeking to defuse the ethnic tensions that ultimately led to his assassination. His vision of a more inclusive and decentralized empire could have laid the groundwork for greater stability and harmony within Austria-Hungary.

 

Diplomacy

Furthermore, Franz Ferdinand was known for his pragmatism and skepticism towards war. Unlike some of his more hawkish counterparts within the Austrian government, he favored diplomatic solutions over military intervention. His survival could have shifted the course of Austrian foreign policy towards a more conciliatory stance, reducing the likelihood of conflicts that could escalate into global wars.

Beyond Europe, the survival of Franz Ferdinand could have had significant implications for the fate of the Ottoman Empire and the Middle East. With Austria-Hungary's focus redirected towards internal reforms and diplomatic solutions, the empire might have been less inclined to support the Central Powers during the First World War. This could have weakened the Ottoman Empire's position and altered the outcome of events such as the Armenian Genocide and the subsequent partitioning of the Middle East by European powers.

Moreover, the survival of Franz Ferdinand could have influenced the trajectory of the United States' involvement in global affairs. Without the impetus of the First World War, the United States might have remained more isolationist, avoiding the entanglements that ultimately drew it into the international arena. The absence of American intervention could have altered the balance of power during the war and shaped the subsequent peace negotiations in unforeseen ways.

 

Technology and culture

In the realm of technology and culture, the avoidance of a World War could have led to different innovations and artistic movements. The war,  as all wars do, spurred advancements in military technology and medicine, but it also brought about immense human suffering and destruction. In a world where the First World War never occurred, resources that were diverted towards military efforts could have been invested in other areas, potentially accelerating scientific progress for peaceful means, in addition to, cultural developments.

Naturally, it is impossible to predict with certainty how history would have unfolded if Archduke Franz Ferdinand had not been assassinated. The interconnectedness of events and the myriad factors at play make any speculation inherently hypothetical. However, by examining the potential consequences of a non-assassination or his survival, we gain insight into the pivotal role that individuals can play in shaping the course of history and the profound impact that seemingly small events can have on the world stage.

In conclusion, the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria set off a chain reaction that led to the First World War and its far-reaching consequences. However, by considering the hypothetical scenario where Franz Ferdinand survived, we glimpse a different path, one where war and upheaval might have been averted, and the course of history irrevocably altered. While we can only speculate on the details of such an alternate reality, the exercise serves as a reminder of the fragility and complexity of human history.

 

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World War 2 has many unpleasant tales, but occasionally a tale isn’t so unpleasant. Here, Lior Bouchnik looks at how a bear came to be part of the Polish Army – and even helped in a major battle.

Wojtek the bear with a Polish soldier during World War II.

It all starts at the opening shot of the Second World War. 1939 - the invasion of Poland by Germany and the USSR and the following annexation left millions of formally Polish citizens under Soviet authority. In 1942, amid the deportation of thousands of Polish civilians, the Ander’s Army was formed, a common name for the Polish armed forces in the east. Ander’s army accompanied the deported Polish citizens to Iran which became a refugee camp that received up to 2,500 people per day, and in total 116,000.

On April 8, 1942, the Polish soldiers stationed in Iran brought with them was the 18-year-old niece of General Bolesław Długoszowski who persuaded her uncle to buy a small Syrian bear cub from a young Iranian boy. The boy claimed that he found the cub after the bear's mother was shot by hunters. The young cub accompanied the soldiers and was given the name Wojtek, an old Slavic name that loosely translates to “happy warrior”. The cub grew into a bear on the campaign and as he grew, he became more than just a mascot to the Polish soldiers. The cub learned to adapt as he lived among them, imitating their actions. Wojtek learned to salute and he even started standing on his hind legs and marching beside them. Wojtek also developed a love for drinking beer and eating cigarettes, but he would only eat lit ones otherwise he would refuse to consume them. He and the soldiers enjoyed wrestling together and on cold nights he would sleep with them.

 

Battle of Monte Cassino

Wojtek moved with the 22nd Artillery Supply Company all around the Middle East. First, they moved to Iraq then Syria, Palestine, and finally Egypt, and when it came time for his major contribution in the Battle of Monte Cassino, he weighed 90 kilograms (200 pounds). The Polish soldiers of the 2nd Polish Corps were tasked with joining the British 8th Army in the campaign to liberate Italy. By now Wojtek developed a close bond with his human companions, who treated him like a fellow soldier, and when they were told that the designated ship that was supposed to carry them to Italy forbade mascots and pets, they did what they felt was the only natural step. To account for his rations and transportation Wojtek was officially enlisted as a soldier. He was listed among the soldiers with his given name, he had his own serial number and pay book. He lived with the other soldiers in tents or in a special wooden crate, which was transported by truck.

In the 1944 Battle of Monte Cassino, Wojtek continued to showcase his learned behavior by helping his unit move heavy ammunition onto trucks. Wojtek helped the soldiers by carrying himself 45 kg (100 Ib) crates of 11 kg (25 Ib) artillery shells that normally required four men. Wojtek helped to speed up the loading process, and the positive effect on the soldier's morale did not go unnoticed. His efforts earned him a promotion to the rank of corporal. Wojtek was later immortalized by the 22nd Artillery Supply Company by becoming their official emblem, showcasing a depiction of a bear carrying an artillery shell.

 

After the war

 After the war in 1947, Wojtek was given to Edinburgh Zoo where he spent the rest of his life. He was often visited by his former Polish comrades who threw him cigarettes to eat like he used to do in their shared time in the army. Wojtek died on December 2, 1963, aged 21, weighing nearly 500 kg (1,100 pounds) and being over 1.8 m (5 ft 11 in) tall. Wojtek's legacy is one of family. In the war ridden world of the 1940s, Wojtek was much like the Polish soldiers who lost their homes, and what started as a mere amusement to the soldiers became real comradery. The Polish soldiers gave Wojtek a family and he returned the favor in equal measure, by boosting morale, by being one of them. In what must be one of the most unique stories of the war, soldiers found a true comrade who didn’t have a flag or a nation to fight for, just a group of Polish soldiers who became his only family.

 

Now read about the cat that survived 3 ships sinking during World War 2 here.

More from Lior can be found here.

Thomas Carlyle once opined that “the history of the world is but the biography of great men.”  And that is certainly true in the case of Myron C. Taylor, whose consequential life helps explain a great deal about the 20th Century.

Taylor was born in 1874, and grew up in the small, upstate town of Lyons (in Wayne County), just south of Lake Ontario. Taylor went to the Cornell Law School in Ithaca, graduating with a Bachelor of Laws degree in 1894.  Returning to Lyons, he established a small law practice, but shortly transitioned to helping his father’s tannery business.  That quickly led to bigger things.

Taylor soon became America’s leading industrialist: first as the “czar” of the textile industry; and later, in the 1920s and 30s, as CEO of U.S. Steel.  Thereafter, he became a key diplomatic participant in some of the most important geopolitical events of the World War II era.  Taylor is little remembered today, however, because of his intense personal dislike for self-promotion and publicity; for much of his business career, the national media called him “the man nobody knows.”

C. Evan Stewart explains.

Myron Taylor in the Vatican. Image provided by the author.

Ambassador Extraordinary

Having literally saved U.S. Steel from ruin during the depths of the Depression and then restoring it to its position as the country’s most important corporation, Taylor stepped down as CEO in April of 1938; he hoped to enter a “sabbatical period of life” with his wife, Anabel.  But his friend, President Franklin D. Roosevelt, asked him to take on an assignment: could Taylor help solve the crisis of Jews who were attempting to flee persecution in Nazi Germany.  Taylor’s efforts actually led to a deal with Hitler and Germany, whereby 150,000 “able-bodied” Jews were to be permitted to emigrate, with their dependents to follow later.  Undersecretary of State Sumner Welles told the president it was “better than we hoped for.”  Unfortunately, with the Nazi invasion of Poland (which led to World War II), that deal came to naught.

Then, right before Christmas 1939, FDR called on Taylor again, asking him to be the president’s personal representative to Pope Pius XII (with the rank of “Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary”). This very controversial appointment, which FDR undertook for multiple reasons (e.g., domestic politics; his wanting a third term; trying to influence Church policy (and its internal politics) in the United States; getting international-diplomatic information at the Vatican; influencing the Vatican on geopolitical issues; etc.), led to what was widely known as the “Taylor Mission.”  And in fulfilling that Mission over the next eleven years, Taylor was at the heart many of the era’s critical matters, including: (i) efforts to keep Italy, Spain, and Portugal out of the war on the Axis side; (ii) ensuring that Lend-Lease aid got to the Soviet Union in 1941, which at that point was about to be overrun by the German army; (iii) bringing the first documented proof of the Holocaust to the Vatican in September of 1942; (iv) ensuring that the Church would support the Allies’ policy of unconditional surrender (and later, not break with that policy); (v) helping to broker Italy’s surrender and Mussolini’s departure; (vi) blocking German attempts to have the Vatican broker a peace; (vii) helping to godfather the Bretton Woods agreement and the United Nations; (viii) almost single-handedly helping Italy recover from the war; and (ix) under President Truman, engaging in an effort to have all the world’s religions unite against atheistic communism (i.e., the Soviet Union).

 

Lend-Lease to Russia

To cover all the foregoing (and more), readers will have to pick up Myron Taylor: The Man Nobody Knows (Twelve Tables Press).  For the remainder of this article, the focus will be on Taylor’s critical role in ensuring Lend-Lease aid got to Russia in 1941.

On March 11, 1941, FDR signed the controversial Lend-Lease legislation. Premised on the president’s campaign pledge in 1940 for America to be the “great arsenal of democracy,” it was understood - by Congress and the American public - to apply only to providing assistance to Great Britain, then isolated and under the German attacks known as the “Blitz.”

On June 24, 1941, the geopolitical world was up-ended when Hitler invaded the Soviet Union.  The German army’s advance through Russian territory was swift; FDR and his top advisors feared that the if the USSR were to be overrun and conquered, then stopping the Nazi regime when (not if) the United States became a belligerent might well provide impossible. (Henry Stimson, the Secretary of War, told FDR that Russia might not last three months.)  The president was determined to provide substantial military assistance to Joseph Stalin, but there was a very significant roadblock.

In 1937, the Vatican had issued the Encyclical Divini Redemptoris - issued by Pope Pius XI (but authored by his Secretary of State, who would succeed him as Pope Pius XII).  That Encyclical condemned in no uncertain terms the Soviet Union and expressly forbade all Catholics from having anything to do with supporting that nation-state. Given the 1937 Encyclical and the strong isolationistic sentiments of many American Catholics, FDR feared that the political backlash would prove too great if he tried to extend Lend-Lease aid to Russia.  (For example, the Bishop of Buffalo had publicly stated that Catholics would be justified in not serving in the U.S. military if the country were allied with the Soviet Union.)  In the words of Robert Sherwood (an FDR speechwriter and later biographer), “[a]s a measure for coping with serious Catholic opposition to aid for the Soviet Union, Roosevelt decided to send Myron C. Taylor … on another mission to Rome.”

Myron Taylor shares a letter from FDR with the Pope. Image provided by the author.

Threading the Needle

Before his trip, Taylor, together with two Church officials in the United States and Sumner Welles, devised a strategy to thread the needle of the 1937 Encyclical: that any U.S. aid would not constitute supporting communism, but would instead be directed at alleviating the suffering of the Russian people, for whom the Pope and the Church always had special affection.  But that nuanced approach to the problem got off to a rocky start at Taylor’s first meeting with the Pope on September 9, 1941.  FDR had asked Taylor to present a hand-written letter to the Pope, a document which went to great lengths to assure him that “the churches in Russia are open” and that “freedom of religion” was a likely outcome of the Nazi’s invasion.  The Pope and his advisors were incredulous; at least seven Vatican memoranda were prepared in response to FDR’s letter, many of them questioning the president’s mental state and his grasp on reality.

Notwithstanding FDR’s blunder, Taylor, over a number of days and multiple sessions with the Pope and his advisors, was able to get the Vatican to agree to the concept of delinking the Russian people from the Soviet Union; but this message could not be seen as being issued from or dictated by the Pope or the Vatican.  Instead, guidance would be sent to the Apostolic Delegate in Washington to have the message delivered by a high-ranking member of the Church in America.

Once Taylor returned to America, in consultation with the Apostolic Delegate and other Church officials, it was decided to effectuate the Vatican’s hidden-hand strategy by having an outspoken isolationistic Church leader - Archbishop McNicholas of Cincinnati - deliver the message.  With time of the essence - not only were German troops closing in on Moscow, but a second Lend-Lease appropriations bill was pending in Congress and over 90% of available Lend-Lease funds had already been allocated - McNicholas was summoned to Washington and given his marching orders.

On October 30, 1941, McNicholas published a pastoral letter (which received broad national coverage and was printed in toto in the Congressional Record) explicitly endorsing the need for America to help the “persecuted people of Russia, deprived of freedom and put in bondage.”  That same day, FDR cabled Stalin that he had approved $1 billion of war materials to be shipped to the USSR.  But the president waited a week for the McNicholas letter to sink in and take effect in the American body politic (and Congress).  As Sherwood wrote: “It is an indication of Roosevelt’s concern for public opinion that he did not formerly include the Soviet Union among the recipients of Lend Lease until November 7.”

In the words of the leading historian on the decision to aid the USSR in 1941, because of “Myron Taylor’s special mission to the Vatican” - which had secured the Church’s overt approval of such aid, “[s]o perished the great dread of the President that the encyclical of Pius XI would provide a sanction for equating aid to Russia with aid to communism and thereby permit his opponents to insist with telling force that his program was in conflict with the doctrines of the Church.”  Ultimately, eleven billion dollars in aid was sent to the Soviet Union to help them repulse the Nazis.  And at the Tehran Conference, Stalin toasted that, without the U.S.’s war materials, the USSR would have been overrun.  In reflecting upon Taylor’s contribution to this historic result (which was “given no great amount of publicity”), Sherwood wrote: “Taylor was one who truly deserved the somewhat archaic title of ‘Ambassador Extraordinary.’”

 

The Taylor Archives

Myron C. Taylor donated his papers to his alma mater, Cornell University, and I drew upon these papers (in the University’s Olin Library) for this article.  Other archival sources with important Taylor documents include the Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library in Hyde Park, New York; the Harry S. Truman Presidential Library to Independence, Missouri; the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C.; and the National Archives and Records Administration in College Park, Maryland; in addition, the Baker Library at Harvard University (papers of Thomas Lamont) and the Oral History Project at Columbia University (including oral histories of Frances Perkins, George Rublee, etc.) contain many valuable materials on Taylor’s life and career.  The Vatican has made many, but not all, archival materials covering the World War II era available for scholars.

 

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AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones

Throughout history, certain moments stand out as pivotal turning points, altering the course of nations and shaping the destiny of millions. One such moment occurred on August 20, 1940, when an ice pick-wielding assassin attacked, Lev Davidovich Bronstein, better known as Leon Trotsky, the fiery revolutionary and one of architects of the Bolshevik Revolution. Trotsky died of his injuries the next day August 21, 1940.

However, what if fate had taken a different path? What if Trotsky had not met his untimely demise in Mexico City? The ripple effects of such a scenario would have undoubtedly reshaped the landscape of the 20th century, altering the trajectory of communism, world politics, and the course of countless lives.

Terry Bailey considers this alternative history.

Trotsky in Mexico, January 1937 with his wife Natalia Sedova. The artist Frida Kahlo is behind them.

The Rise of Trotsky

To understand the profound impact of Trotsky's hypothetical survival, we must first delve into his revolutionary legacy. A brilliant orator, strategist, and ideologue, Trotsky played a pivotal role in the overthrow of the Russian Tsarist regime in 1917. Alongside Vladimir Lenin, he galvanized the masses, leading the Bolsheviks to victory and laying the groundwork for the world's first communist state.

Had Trotsky survived the assassination attempt, he would have remained a formidable force within the Soviet Union. His intellectual prowess and unwavering commitment to Marxist principles would have posed a significant challenge to Joseph Stalin's consolidation of power. Unlike Stalin, whose brutal tactics and cult of personality alienated many within the party, Trotsky garnered widespread respect and admiration among the rank-and-file Bolsheviks. With his continued presence, the internal power struggle within the Communist Party would have taken a drastically different turn.

 

The Trotskyist Vision

Trotsky's vision of communism differed fundamentally from Stalin's authoritarian regime. While Stalin advocated for "socialism in one country," prioritizing the consolidation of power within the Soviet Union, Trotsky championed the concept of "permanent revolution." He believed that true socialism could only be achieved through the international spread of proletarian uprisings, challenging the global capitalist order and ushering in a new era of worldwide socialism.

Had Trotsky maintained his influence within the Soviet leadership, his emphasis on internationalism would have profoundly shaped Soviet foreign policy. Rather than pursuing a policy of isolationism and realpolitik, as Stalin did, Trotsky would have actively supported revolutionary movements abroad. This stance would have likely intensified tensions with capitalist powers, particularly the United States, leading to a more confrontational Cold War dynamic.

 

The Fate of Communism

One cannot ignore the impact Trotsky's survival would have had on the global communist movement. In the aftermath of Stalin's purges and the rise of authoritarian regimes in Eastern Europe, many disillusioned leftists looked to Trotskyism as a beacon of hope for a more democratic form of socialism. With Trotsky at the helm, the Fourth International would have emerged as a formidable challenger to both capitalist imperialism and Stalinist dogma.

Moreover, Trotsky's continued influence could have averted some of the excesses and atrocities committed in the name of communism. His commitment to democratic centralism and workers' democracy stood in stark contrast to Stalin's autocratic rule. By promoting a more decentralized and participatory form of governance, Trotsky may have prevented the worst abuses of state power, preserving the integrity of the socialist project.

 

The Legacy of Trotsky

In exploring the counterfactual scenario of Trotsky's survival, we are confronted with a multitude of possibilities and uncertainties. Would he have succeeded in his quest to overthrow Stalin and establish a more democratic socialist order? Or would he have met the same fate as countless other dissenters crushed by the machinery of the Soviet state?

Regardless of the outcome, one thing remains clear: Trotsky's legacy endures as a testament to the power of revolutionary ideals and the enduring struggle for social justice. His writings continue to inspire generations of activists and intellectuals, offering insights into the nature of power, oppression, and resistance. While his physical presence may have been extinguished on that fateful day in 1940, his spirit lives on in the ongoing quest for a world free from exploitation and inequality.

 

Conclusion

In contemplating the hypothetical scenario of Trotsky's survival, we are compelled to confront the complexities and contradictions of history. The assassination of one man irrevocably altered the course of world events, unleashing a chain reaction of consequences that continue to reverberate to this day. Yet, amidst the uncertainty and speculation, one thing remains certain: the enduring legacy of Leon Trotsky serves as a reminder of the transformative power of revolutionary thought and the indomitable spirit of those who dare to challenge the status quo. As we reflect on the road not taken, we are reminded of the countless possibilities that lie ahead, waiting to be shaped by the actions and aspirations of those who refuse to accept the world as it is and strive to create a better one in its place.

 

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Whistle-stop campaign trains were an effective way for politicians to connect with voters in large cities and small towns for more than 185 years. Unfortunately, memories of the pivotal role that trains played in elections fade a bit more with the passing of each generation.

In researching the history of the trains for my new book, Whistle-Stop Politics, I came across dozens of stories and largely forgotten pieces of information about candidates who sought votes from the back of trains at railroad stations across the country.

Here are a few examples that will likely be new to today’s voters.

Edward Segal explains. Edward is the author of Whistle-Stop Politics: Campaign Trains and the Reporters Who Covered Them (Amazon US | Amazon UK).

President Franklin D. Roosevelt on the Ferdinand Magellan train in April 1943. Source: White House History, available here.

Some Presidential Candidates Were Impersonated on the Campaign Trail

To provide candidates respite from the rigors of the campaign trail, stand-ins would occasionally deceive people into thinking they had seen the whistle-stopping politicians. The list of those who were impersonated by their staff, family members, and reporters includes William Jennings Bryan, Eugene Debs, Franklin Roosevelt, Harry Truman, and Dwight Eisenhower.

During his 1936 campaign train tour, FDR said he was tired of sitting by the window of his railcar and waving to the crowds at every town the train passed through, according to Bernard Asbell, author of When F.D.R. Died.

That’s when Roosevelt asked White House usher William D. Simmons, “How would you like to be President for a while? Only for a little while. Maybe an hour or two,” Asbell recounted.

“With a flourish, [Roosevelt] turned over his cigarette holder to Simmons and showed him how to wave a big, open-fingered hand in the Rooseveltian manner and how to smile a big, open-jawed smile,” Asbell wrote in his book. ‘Fine! Fine!’ the President said again. ‘Now, every time we pass a town, just sit there and wave. I’m tired. I’m going to take a nap.’”

All across Arkansas, “Simmons sat by the President’s window. At each town, the train slowed, not too little, nor too much, just enough so the local townsfolk could experience the incomparable thrill of seeing someone who appeared to be Franklin Roosevelt waving to them,” Asbell noted.

 

Whistle-stopping Politicians Were Not Always Well-Received

Democratic running mates John Kerry and John Edwards faced a divided and raucous crowd when their campaign train pulled into Sedalia, Missouri, in 2004. “Holding candles, flashlights and posters, the people of Sedalia engaged in a shouting contest: Some called out ‘Four more years’ and ‘We want Bush,’ while their neighbors chanted, ‘Three more months’ and ‘Kerry! Kerry!’”

“The candidates could barely get a word in,” the Chicago Tribune reported. “Posters held aloft competed for attention too. There were signs that read ‘Give ’em hell, Kerry’ and others that simply said ‘W.’ “‘Will you let us speak? Will you let us speak, please?’ Edwards urged the jeering Republican section of the crowd.”

 

Lyndon Johnson Planned His 1960 Trackside Rallies

Lyndon Johnson designed the format of his 1960 vice presidential campaign train tour, according to historian Robert A. Caro, author of The Passage of Power: The Years of Lyndon Johnson.

As the LBJ Special approached towns, its public address system would be switched on, and over it would come the stirring strains of “The Yellow Rose of Texas.”  The music was turned up as the train neared the towns, until the song could be heard for several surrounding blocks.

Once the train arrived at depots, the music and the locomotive’s engine would stop simultaneously, a dark blue curtain that had been hung over the doorway onto the rear platform would be pulled aside, and the tall figure of Lyndon Johnson, waving a ten-gallon hat, would step through to address the crowd.

Johnson choreographed his departures, according to CBS News reporter George Herman. The candidate would signal an aide for the train to pull out of stations before he finished speaking, yelling to crowds that “They’re taking me away from ya! Bye, everybody! Vote Democratic! They’re taking me away from ya!”

 

A Candidate’s Train Was Ticketed

California governor Edmund G. Brown (father of future governor Jerry Brown) rode the “Progress Special” train during his losing battle for reelection in 1966 against his challenger, actor Ronald Reagan.

At a trackside gathering in downtown Inglewood, a Los Angeles suburb, the campaign special became the first whistlestop train to receive a ticket when local police issued a citation to the engineer for blocking a traffic intersection.

Will one of this year’s presidential or other candidates seek votes from the back of a railroad car? If so, it would be a fitting way to help celebrate the 188th anniversary of the first whistle-stop campaign train trip.

 

As a reminder, Edward is the author of Whistle-Stop Politics: Campaign Trains and the Reporters Who Covered Them (Amazon US | Amazon UK).

In today's world, marked by escalating conflicts and geopolitical tensions, the principles of pacifism hold more significance than ever before. As wars once again ravage regions like Eastern Europe and the Middle East, the urgent need for nonviolent solutions and peaceful resolutions to international disputes becomes glaringly evident. Pacifism, rooted in the belief that violence and war are inherently destructive and counterproductive, advocates for the pursuit of peace through dialogue, diplomacy, and nonviolent resistance. Originating from various philosophical, religious, and cultural traditions, pacifism emphasizes the inherent dignity and worth of every human life, rejecting the notion that violence can ever be justified in achieving noble ends. One individual who epitomized the essence of pacifism and paid a heavy price for his unwavering commitment to nonviolence was Ernst Friedrich. Ahead of his time by a significant margin, Friedrich's steadfast refusal to participate in World War I and his unyielding opposition to militarism even led to his confinement in a mental institution.

Matti Geyer explains.

Ernst Friedrich.

Childhood & Youth

Ernst Friedrich was born on February 25, 1894, in Breslau (now Wrocław). Despite his humble beginnings as the thirteenth child of a washerwoman and a saddler, Friedrich's journey was marked by a relentless pursuit of justice and a commitment to pacifism. His parents imparted values of compassion and resilience that would shape Friedrich's lifelong dedication to humanitarian causes.

His early life was marked by the struggles of working-class existence. Despite limited formal education, he displayed a voracious appetite for knowledge and social activism. After a brief stint as a factory worker and an aborted apprenticeship as a book printer, Friedrich embarked on a journey of self-discovery, traversing Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and Switzerland as a "journeyman." It was during this period of exploration that Friedrich's encounters with anarchist thought and socialist principles ignited the flames of rebellion within him. In 1911 he joined the Social Democratic Party, but it was the outbreak of World War I that catalyzed his transformation into an ardent pacifist.

 

First World War: Confrontation with Conscience

The outbreak of World War I in 1914 thrust Friedrich into the heart of a moral quandary. Confronted with the prospect of military service, he steadfastly refused to partake in the bloodshed, citing conscientious objection as his guiding principle. His refusal to don a uniform led to his confinement in a psychiatric observation station, where he endured the harsh realities of wartime incarceration. Not wanting to serve for one's fatherland was simply unimaginable at the time. In 1917, he was further sentenced to prison in Potsdam for sabotage in a war-critical enterprise. He was released at the end of 1918 due to the November Revolution.

Friedrich's activism took various forms, from his involvement with illegal anarchist groups to his founding of the "Freie Jugend" (Free Youth), an anarchist group with a publication of the same name, advocating for anarchist principles and antiauthoritarian socialism. His publications were frequently banned or confiscated, and Friedrich repeatedly found himself in court. Lawyer Hans Litten defended him in numerous trials. After several previous convictions, on November 14, 1930, he was once again sentenced to one year in prison for his political activities, specifically "preparation for high treason." He was alleged to have been involved in distributing antimilitarist texts among the police and the Reichswehr. Friedrich's commitment to peace ultimately found expression in his establishment of the International Anti-War Museum in Berlin in 1925, which served as a testament to the horrors of war and a rallying point for peace activists.

 

The Anti-War Museum

At the heart of Friedrich's activism lay the Anti-Kriegs-Museum, a pioneering institution dedicated to exposing the brutal realities of war. Through meticulous curation and compelling exhibits, Friedrich sought to shatter the romanticized notions of warfare propagated by the authorities. In addition to objects from the First World War, paintings by Käthe Kollwitz and Otto Dix were exhibited. Furthermore, the museum founder managed to acquire and exhibit photographs of war mutilations, which were also published in a two-volume book titled "War Against War." The museum was predominantly financed through the sales of this book. The exhibition also addressed the issue of children playing with toy soldiers.

 

Nazi Persecution & Exile

Even before the Nazi takeover in 1933, Ernst Friedrich was terrorized by them. The windows of the Anti-War Museum were constantly destroyed, and Friedrich was regularly subjected to violent attacks. After the Reichstag fire, he was arrested on February 28, 1933. After his release, he fled in December of the same year. For some time, he found refuge in the Rest-Home project operated by Quakers. His first wife Charlotte Friedrich, née Meier (1895-1981) was able to emigrate to England. 

The Nazis looted the Anti-War Museum in March 1933 and renamed it „Richard Fiedler House“ (after SA leader Richard Fiedler). It then served as a meeting place for the SA until the demolition of the building in 1936. 

Ernst Friedrich ended up in Belgium, where he simply reopened his museum in Brussels in 1936. However, it was once again destroyed in 1940 following the German occupation of Belgium.

 

Joining the French Resistance

Ernst Friedrich and his son (who was also called Ernst) fled to France, where they were interned by the Vichy regime in the St. Cyprien camp, later in the Gurs camp. He managed to escape not only once but twice: First, after 18 months of imprisonment and for a second time after the Gestapo had tracked him down. While his son was arrested and forced to work as an interpreter for the Gestapo, Ernst Friedrich, despite being a committed pacifist, now joined the Resistance, fought in the liberation of Nîmes and Alès, was wounded twice, but managed to save around seventy children from a Jewish orphanage from deportation. 

Despite enduring internment in French concentration camps and facing the constant threat of arrest by Nazi agents, Friedrich remained resolute in his commitment to peace and resistance. His tireless efforts to defy oppression and aid the persecuted stand as a testament to the indomitable spirit of human resilience.

 

Legacy of Peace

Following the war, Friedrich became a French citizen and joined the Socialist Party, dedicating himself to the establishment of a new anti-war museum in France. In 1954, he received compensation for the loss of his property and the physical damage suffered in the Third Reich. With this, he bought approximately 3,000 square meters of wooded area on a Seine island near Le Perreux-sur-Marne (Val-de-Marne), where he established an international youth center. The "Swiss Pavilion", the "Berlin Pavilion", and the "Tolstoy House" built here together had fifty beds. With the help of a German union, the "Île de la Paix" (Peace Island) became an international meeting place for working youth from 1961 onwards. Friedrich now symbolically appointed himself as the "World Minister of Peace“. 

Plagued by severe depression in his final years, he died in 1967. His grave is located in the 5th Division of the cemetery of Le Perreux-sur-Marne, Val-de-Marne department. Peace Island was sold after his death and his written legacy destroyed.

 

A new Anti-War Museum 

On May 2, 1982, the 15th anniversary of Friedrich's death, his museum was re-established in Berlin. It was temporarily located in Berlin-Kreuzberg (which had a large anarchist population at that point) and has been at its current location in the district of Wedding since October 1984. Since then, Ernst Friedrich's grandson, Tommy Spree, and a group of volunteers have been running it. It is now recognized as a non-profit organization and is largely funded by donations. The museum's volunteers support the idea of peace and collaborate with students, politicians, artists, and scholars to design exhibitions. It displays relics from both World Wars. Rotating exhibitions also explore peace movements worldwide. Modern warfare with chemical and biological weapons is also depicted. A highlight of the visit is the trip to the basement, which is an original air raid shelter from World War II. In the cramped, light-tight space, visitors can immerse themselves in the feeling of the anxious nights spent in the bunker.

At the old location of the first Anti-War Museum, where the building no longer exists, a memorial plaque has been installed, with two World War I helmets hanging from the wall, in which flowers are growing.

 

Matti Geyer is a historical tour guide in Berlin: www.toursofberlin.com. His "Off the beaten path"-tour goes past the site of the first Anti-War Museum.

 

 

References

  1. Bartolf, Christian, and Dominique Miething. "Ernst Friedrich (1894–1967)." Handbuch Anarchismus, Springer VS, Wiesbaden, 2023.

  2. Kegel, Thomas. "Ernst Friedrich. Anarchistische Pädagogik in Aktion." In: Ulrich Klemm (Ed.): Anarchismus und Pädagogik. Studien zur Rekonstruktion einer vergessenen Tradition, pp. 126–137. Dipa Verlag, Frankfurt am Main, 1991.

  3. Kegel, Thomas. "‘Krieg dem Krieg!’ Ernst Friedrich – Anarchist und revolutionärer Antimilitarist." Graswurzelrevolution, Heft 115, June 1986.

  4. Klemm, Ulrich. "Ernst Friedrich." In: Hans Jürgen Degen (Ed.): Lexikon der Anarchie.Verlag Schwarzer Nachtschatten, Bösdorf/Plön, 1993, ISBN 3-89041-008-1.

  5. Linse, Ulrich. "Ernst Friedrich zum 10. Todestag." (Europäische Ideen, Heft 29). Verlag Europäische Ideen, Berlin, 1977.

  6. Opel, Jürgen. "Vergessen in Deutschland - Das Anti-Kriegsmuseum des Ernst Friedrich." Freitag, September 6, 1991, p. 13.

  7. Spree, Tommy. Ich kenne keine ‘Feinde’. Der Pazifist Ernst Friedrich. Ein Lebensbild.Anti-Kriegs-Museum, Selbstverlag, Berlin, 2000.