Charles George Gordon, known for exhibiting extraordinary courage and fearlessness in battle, would die a hero’s death in 1885. At the time of his death, he had gained international fame for his service in the British army, ability to inspire others, and his staunch commitment to his faith. When Gordon volunteered to serve in China, he was faced with an insurrection the likes of which remains one of the bloodiest rebellions in world history. Marvin McCrary explains.

Gordon shortly after the Crimean War.

Charles Gordon was born in Woolwich, a district in southeast London, England, in 1833. He was the son of a Royal Artillery officer — one of a fairly large brood of children — but the family was closely-knit, and very happy. The young Gordon was especially fond of his sister Emily, but her death at age 16, was a great blow to him. In 1848, Gordon entered the Royal Military Academy (in Woolwich) as a Gentleman Cadet, intending to follow his father into the Royal Artillery. However, a lack of discipline prevented this, and he graduated in 1852 as a second lieutenant in the Corps of Royal Engineers. The corps considered themselves the professional elite of the British army, and were posted all over the world to build bridges, railways, quays for ships, design buildings, and undertook siege work. This would prove to be the ideal environment for Gordon, who had shown himself to be brave, impetuous and restless while at the academy. It was agreed that the role of the military engineer would make good use of these traits.

Crimea

In 1853 Gordon was converted to faith in Christ through the efforts of a fellow officer who would become one of his closest friends. His faith would become an integral part of his character throughout the rest of his life. That same year, the Crimean War broke out. The conflict pitted Britain, France, Turkey and Sardinia against Russia, whose ruler sought to expand Russian influence over the Middle East and the eastern Mediterranean at the expense of the Ottoman Empire. Gordon managed to persuade the War Office to give him a post to the Crimea, despite his parents' insistence that it would be best for him to remain in England. Although aware of the dangers, Gordon knew that engineers were badly needed at the front, where the ill-equipped soldiers were making due in shockingly primitive circumstances. Adequate shelter was nonexistent and supply services hopelessly snarled. Gordon was put in charge of collecting and shipping wooden huts, which he would erect in the Crimea.

According to author John H. Waller, Gordon was in his element in the Crimea. His first task involved building huts which would serve as winter quarters for Allied troops. Gordon took the hardships of winter in his stead. He compared the British soldiers to children who, unlike the French, did not look after themselves. Officers froze to death in the night, while others were smothered by the smoke from the charcoal fires which had been started for warmth. There was palpable need, Gordon recognized, to put the huts up in a hurry. Once he completed this task, he managed to get the dangerous and unenviable job of mapping the Russian trenches along the frontlines. Many young, promising officers were killed during this operation. In a pensive letter written in 1883, Gordon would later reflect upon his surprise and disappoint  that he was spared an early death. One could say that Gordon’s remarks carried with them the sobriety of one who had become wearied by the unrelenting din of war.

China

Gordon’s fierce determination would see him decorated for bravery by the French, and mentioned in dispatches by the British. However, at the conclusion of the conflict, Gordon found himself restless. Gordon would write in his journal that he found the gentility of English society unsuitable to a man of action such as himself. The British press covered the conflicts faced by the British Empire thoughout Asia, and the Sepoy Rebellion in India was on the front page. The crisis faced by the Qing in China, was secondary, although increasing anxiety from the government in regards to British trade interests would soon warrant direct intervention. Gordon once again put forward a request at the War Office to be sent to China, hoping to satisfy his thirst for adventure. As Gordon prepared for his departure, his heart racing at the prospect of a new challenge, he had not yet fully comprehended the depth of the crisis he would soon face.

After coming to power in 1644, following the collapse of the Ming Dynasty, the Qing dynasty was ruled by a series of individuals who deftly handled domestic and foreign affairs. However, by the latter half of the nineteenth century, China experienced a series of famines, natural disasters, and economic difficulties. Farmers were heavily overtaxed, rents rose dramatically, and peasants started to desert their lands in droves. The countryside was rife with banditry, all the while, the government had become increasingly corrupt. The influence of government was especially weak in the south, where local clans dominated and anti-Manchu sentiment was strongest. These factors provided fertile ground for the seeds of rebellion.

Gordon arrived at Tianjin in September of 1860. The China which he would have seen was a remnant of its former self—a once mighty empire teetering on the edge of collapse, as rebels ravaged the countryside. Originating in Guangxi, the Taiping were led by Hong Xiuquan, a former village schoolmaster. Decades earlier, in 1843, after carefully reading a pamphlet he had received from a Protestant Christian missionary, Hong would declare that he had a divine mission to rid China of evil, including the Qing government and Confucianism. This was a crucial aspect which would set the Taiping apart from previous rebellions, as they sought not only to replace the ruling dynasty, but desired a fundamental change to traditional Chinese society itself. In a wider context, Hong’s aspirations to the divinity of Christ could imply a claim of equality between white and non-white peoples.

Events in China

Gordon shared the belief held by many European foreigners, that the Taipings were confessed Christians with good in them. Gordon, a devoted Christian himself, would later dispense with this notion after witnessing the atrocities which the Taiping committed in the name of God, as well as the Taiping leadership’s perversion of Christian teachings. As Gordon moved throughout the countryside, where the dead served as a grim testament to the Taipings brutality, he felt sympathy for the peasants, and could understand why they blamed the missionaries for instigating the Taiping rebels.

Gordon was present in 1860, during the occupation of Beijing and destruction of the Summer Palace, or Yuanmingyuan, which had been built by the Qianlong Emperor. The destruction of the palace was ordered by James Bruce, the 8th Earl of Elgin, and the British High Commissioner to China. Elgin said that this measure was undertaken in response to the torture and killing of several British envoys and their escorts. The British forces would occupy northern China until April 1862, then withdraw to Shanghai to protect European interests from the encroaching Taiping army.

Shanghai merchants had been far from comfortable over the course of the Taiping Rebellion. They found they could not rely on the imperial troops, and there was still a degree of mistrust for the “foreign devils”. It was amongst this atmosphere of uncertainty that the prominent merchants and imperial officials sought to raise a mercenary force for the defense of the city. A militia of Europeans and Asians was raised for the defense of the city and placed under the command of an American, Frederick Townsend Ward. Initially a militia which lacked much in the way of formal training, Ward would later reorganize the force, calling it the Ever Victorious Army. Upon their arrival, General Charles Staveley, commander of the British forces in northern China, decided to clear the rebels within 30 miles of Shanghai in cooperation with Ward, and the area was fairly cleared of rebels by the end of 1862.

Ward would suffer a fatal injury when he was shot by a deserter. He had served his Chinese masters with valor, which endeared him to the Chinese, who praised his bravery. Ward’s successor was another American named H. A. Burgevine. The British army had already expressed reservations about cooperating with unregulated militia. Under Burgevine, these concerns were throughly justified, as the mercenaries looted with abandon, revealing a serious lack of discipline. The governor of the Jiangsu province, where Shanghai is located, requested that Staveley appoint a British officer to command the contingent, believing that a British commander would set higher standards. A certain Captain Holland was placed in command, but unsuited to his position, as 16 officers and 450 men were killed or wounded in a subsequent engagement, leading to one of their greatest defeats for the Ever Victorious Army. In response, the troops were clamoring for the reinstatement of Burgevine.

Leadership

Holland’s failure would be Gordon’s opportunity. Staveley would select Gordon, at the behest of the Chinese officials, who had been promoted to Major General in December of 1862. Gordon had once again impressed his superiors with his performance in the field and his demonstrated ability to get along with the Chinese. Gordon’s family was not especially enthusiastic about his new command. His father did not like the idea of an Englishmen leading a foreign army to benefit a non-western, non-democratic government, and his mother was fearful of his life. Gordon, to allay the concerns of his family, promised he would not be rash. Despite his reluctance, Gordon became commander of the 3,500-man peasant force. Gordon injected discipline and steel into the force. The EVA became a feared force and was instrumental in ending the rebellion. Gordon led the EVA into battle from the front carrying only a walking stick. Gordon refused to allow the EVA to loot captured cities as they had under their American commanders. The EVA mutinied, but Gordon suppressed it by shooting dead one of the ringleaders, and then threatening to shoot one of the mutineers an hour until the mutiny was over.

During the next 18 months Gordon's troops played an important role in suppressing the Taiping uprising. Suzhou was captured by the EVA in 1863 after the Taipings surrendered to Gordon when he offered them a safe passage. Unfortunately, Gordon was away on business when the Manchus had the leaders of the Taipings executed. This action was offensive to Gordon, who believed in the chivalric code to remain good to one’s word. Gordon was furious and promptly resigned his command. He only returned after being implored to by the British and being promoted to the rank of Mandarin in the Chinese army, a rare privilege.

Although given a nearly impossible job, he executed it with great courage, faith, and extreme integrity. He had refused the 100,000 gold pieces offered to him by the Tongzhi Emperor, which thus served to reinforce Gordon's reputation as being incorruptible. Gordon's involvement was critical to the Qing government’s ability to successfully drove the Taipings out of all of their major strongholds, quelling the uprising in 1864. Gordon would return to England in January 1865, where an enthusiastic public had already dubbed him 'Chinese Gordon'. The heroism which Gordon displayed during his lifetime would solidify his position as one of the greatest soldiers of the nineteenth century.

What do you think of Major General Gordon in China? Let us know below.

Now you can read Marvin’s series on the origins of the Mormon Battalion here.

Sources

Micheal, Franz and Chung-li Chang. The Taiping Rebellion - History and Documents Volume 1 : History. Seattle: University of Washington, 1966

Waller, John H. Gordon of Khartoum. New York: Atheneum, 1988.

It is one of music’s great mysteries that one of the most influential figures of the 20th Century has remained unknown to a vast number of people. The story of this man’s life is one of myth, folklore, and legend. His playing technique and general style have gone on to inspire countless musicians. These include Bob Dylan, Keith Richards, and most notably, Eric Clapton who claimed him be ‘the most important blues singer who ever lived.’ This man is Robert Johnson.

Matt Austin explains.

The crossroads where Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for his Blues skills, according to the myth. It is at Clarksdale, Mississippi. Source: Joe Mazzola, available here.

To those who are even slightly aware of Robert Johnson, there is one resounding detail that is synonymous with his name. This is the tale that the legendary blues singer visited a Mississippi crossroads late one night where he sold his soul to the Devil, and in return, was granted exceptional musical talent.(2) This myth lies at the heart of Johnson’s otherwise relatively unknown life and as such it has become impossible to focus on the impact of this great musician without this looming detail.

The legend of the deal with the Devil is nothing new in the music world. This story traditionally derives from Germanic folklore, whereby the fictional character Faust surrendered his soul to an evil spirit in exchange for otherwise unattainable knowledge and power.(3) This phenomenon has therefore become known in Western culture as the ‘Faustian Bargain.’(4) The notion that hugely successful musicians had attained their talent through supernatural means was first explored as a popular theme in the 18th Century. Early examples of this include classical violinists Giuseppe Tartini and Niccolo Paganini, the latter considered by many to be ‘the greatest violin virtuosi to have ever lived.’(5)

This popular music myth exploded in the early 20th century, with numerous individuals earning connections to the Devil. This includes jazz composer Ferdinand ‘Jelly Roll’ Morton and blues musicians Peetie Wheatstraw and namesake of Robert, Tommy Johnson.(6) In addition, this theme is not without its place in slightly more recent music history. Most notably, both Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison were thought to have developed ties with the supernatural.(7) Even the Rolling Stones were not immune, as they jumped on the Satanic Bandwagon with their 1968 hit “Sympathy for the Devil”. This, however, was no real surprise given lead guitarist, Keith Richard’s, absolute fascination with the blues and Johnson in particular.

Leading historians on Johnson, Gayle Dean Wardlow and Bruce Conforth, have been determined in their efforts to highlight the real story of the mythical bluesman. They have fervently denied any links to the crossroads or the supernatural, instead shifting their focus onto Johnson’s actual life, which remains ‘obscure, save for a few inaccurate anecdotes.’(8) What we do know for certain about Johnson is that he was born in 1911, and died in 1938 almost without a trace, save for 42 recordings, consisting of 29 original tracks and 13 alternative takes, in addition to a couple of grainy promotional photographs.

Life

From the impressive amount of information that historians have painstakingly managed to piece together about Johnson’s life, it is understood that he split most of his time between his biological family in the Mississippi Delta, and his adopted family in the bustling city of Memphis, Tennessee. While his experiences in 1920s Memphis may have first inspired Johnson to pick up a guitar, it was in the heart of the Delta where he would truly hone his skills, as he travelled along the Mississippi river, stopping wherever he could to perform at small-town juke joints and bars. It was during this time that he realised he could earn more money by playing his guitar than working in the fields.(9) Following his family into a life of sharecropping was not going to cut it for the young Johnson. He wanted to play the Blues. This passion and desire for music led to him becoming a highly renowned bluesman in the Delta region, and as his skills developed, so did his reputation. He was soon more popular than artists he had once looked up to, such as Charley Patton, Son House, and Willie Brown. As a result of this, after several years of performing for local audiences in the Delta, Johnson successfully auditioned and earned his opportunity to become a recorded artist in 1936.(10) This was an unimaginable privilege for an impoverished African American from the Deep South. He would however, only get the chance to record once more following his debut session and no sooner had Johnson achieved his dream, his playing days were over with his untimely death in 1938 at the age of just 27.

The facts surrounding Johnson’s death are largely unclear and much like his life, it has remained a thing of myth and mystery. Wardlow and Conforth, in their efforts to promote the most accurate account of Johnson, refer to the story of fellow bluesman David ‘Honeyboy’ Edwards.(11) His account has been deemed by far the most reliable, lacking any romanticism or falsehoods. In essence, Johnson, a notorious ladies man, began flirting with a married woman at a Delta juke joint in which he was playing.(12) The woman’s husband soon became enraged with jealously and he slipped Johnson a glass of poisoned whiskey, which, following several days of extreme sickness, eventually killed him.(13) In a cruel twist of fait, it was the three things Johnson had held most dear: women, whiskey and the Blues, that ultimately cost him his life.

Legacy

Following his death, popular knowledge of Robert Johnson remained very limited for many years. It wasn’t until 1959 that his music was first made widely accessible. This occurred as a result of historian Samuel Charters’ landmark book The Country Blues, in which he introduced the public to Johnson’s music, claiming that ‘almost nothing is known about his (Johnson’s) life.’(14) This still echoes true today and what exists now is a messy concoction of fact and fiction. It is within the murky waters of Johnson’s story where the myth of the Devil at the crossroads shines most bright. This is due to a number of factors. One of which being the abundance of unreliable recollections from Johnson’s contemporaries, most notably that of Son House, whose accounts of Johnson dramatically altered throughout the years. Blues fans rediscovered House in 1964, as the singer had largely vanished from the public eye during the Second World War. Following his rediscovery, he subsequently released new music and was frequently interviewed about his former life in the Delta. His story about Johnson attested to the fact that the young musician did leave the Delta for a period of several months in his early career. When he left, he was an enthusiastic, yet mediocre guitarist, but when he returned, he was a confident and established bluesman who could outplay his contemporaries with minimal effort.(15) Another key factor that would later fan the flames of the crossroads myth, are the serial misinterpretations of these accounts by historians and folklorists. Many have inserted their own personal beliefs into the story, implying that House’s comments indicated that Johnson had gained his exceptional talent through some supernatural force, which House never alluded to.(16) Nevertheless, the lack of information surrounding his life, combined with the fascinations of historians and fans alike, formed the core building blocks upon which a largely fictionalised portrayal of Johnson has developed.

Additionally, the crossroads story has had a somewhat negative impact on Johnson’s legacy, in that it significantly takes away from his ability as a musician. Whether he met the Devil or not, he was without doubt an exceptionally gifted guitarist, whose technique and style has set the standard for modern Blues. As such, his music has inspired countless musicians and his name has become synonymous with the genre.

Crossroads

Nevertheless, Robert Johnson’s visit to the crossroads is undeniably a watershed moment in music history. This event, albeit a myth shrouded in mystery and scepticism, has gone on to define not only Johnson’s life, but also the Blues as a genre. Many of Johnson’s recordings were highly evocative of his connection to the supernatural; arguably his most famous song, “Cross Road Blues” depicts his infamous deal with the Devil. Meanwhile one listen to the ghostly “Hellhound on My Trail”, is enough to understand that he certainly portrayed a deeply troubled individual. It is easy to observe therefore, how a man whose life left much to the imagination, has become a fascinating subject of mythical proportions. The small collection of eerie recordings left behind by Johnson, several of which made months before his death, only serve as a haunting reminder of the tragic reality of a young, flawed, but highly skilled and ambitious musician.

The Blues and the supernatural have developed an intrinsic connection, to the point of becoming almost inseparable, and it is Robert Johnson, the man who walked side by side with the Devil, whose legacy has evolved into the ultimate embodiment of music’s most captivating legend.

What do you think of Robert Johnson’s life? Let us know below.

1 Stephen LaVere, The Complete Recordings (Box Set Booklet). Robert Johnson. (New York: Columbia Records, 1990), in an essay by Eric Clapton, 23.

2 Patricia R. Schroeder, Robert Johnson, Mythmaking, and Contemporary American Culture (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2004), 1.

3 “Faustian Bargain,” Britannica, accessed 14/05/2022, https://www.britannica.com/topic/Faustian-bargain.

4 Ibid.

5 Alex James Taylor, “Faustian Pacts: Musicians said to have made deals with the Devil,” 13 May 2019, Satanic Verses, Hero Magazine, accessed 14/05/2022, https://hero-magazine.com/article/148564/faustian-pacts-musicians-said-to-have-made-deals-with-the-devil.

6 Ibid.

7 Ibid.

8 Bruce Conforth and Gayle Dean Wardlow, Up Jumped the Devil: The Real Life of Robert Johnson (Chicago: Chicago Review Press, 2019), 1.

9 Ibid, 65.

10 Ibid, 143-144.

11 Ibid, 253-254

12 Ibid.

13 Ibid.

14 Ibid, 1

15 Ibid, 117-118.

16 Ibid.

Posted
AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones

Here, Michael Sheldrick explains his personal story about the Lancastria tragedy that took place 82 years ago today on June 17, 1940…

June 1940 was a month that changed the course of the Second World War. It was both Britain’s darkest hour, and witness to a tragedy that remains little known to this day; a tragedy that changed my family, forever.

The sinking of the Lancastria in 1940.

As a child growing up in Britain in the 1990s, my sister and I would every so often be left with my grandmother, Claire. A tiny, frail woman, Claire lived in a terrace house in the oldest part of Swindon (an area locals these days refer to colloquially as “Old Town”).

Owing to Claire’s serial chain smoking ways, a stale cigarette odor lingered in every nook and cranny. To avoid the unpleasant smell, I would usually eat meals in the back garden. I can picture it clearly: me eating tinned meatballs, Claire sipping re-heated coffee while lighting herself yet another cigarette. By that point in her life, Claire rarely had much of an appetite except on the rare occasion she would pour a cup of leftover lukewarm coffee over a bowl of Kellogg's corn flakes, garnished of course with raisins.

With the best of Vera Lynn audible from inside, I would ask Claire all about “The War.” She always referred to the Second World War as “The War”, such was the overbearing impact the conflict had on her, and by extension, our life. Claire would recount to me her experiences as a young woman working with what was then known as the Auxiliary Territorial Service, which tasked women with a range of vital roles during the Second World War. In my Grandmother’s case, she was charged with assisting Anti-Aircraft operations. It was one conversation in particular, long buried in my subconsciousness, that would suddenly return to me decades later.

Claire had told me that she had decided to sign up to the ‘war effort’ following news that her older brother Colin, serving as a soldier in France, was missing in action. I distinctly remember asking Claire what happened to him. Looking in the distance, as if talking more to herself than me, she described how Colin had been aboard a ship that had been bombed by the luftwaffe and his body had never been discovered. She said there was a grave somewhere in France but “of course, there is nothing beneath it.” As far as I recall her saying, no one had visited it.

Decades later

Claire passed away shortly after sharing that story. Decades went by and Colin’s story retreated to the far recesses of my mind. That is until a hot summer's day in August, 2019. I was on the New York subway, traveling to where I now work, listening to an audible book about a journalist trying to recover the remains of an American soldier who had died in Japan during WWII. The journalist was explaining that official US policy holds that the US Government is committed to recovering the remains of any and all American soldiers who died during the course of duty.

Suddenly, my mind lit up. I could hear Claire’s words re-telling Colin’s fate, along with many unanswered questions. How exactly did Colin die? What ship was he on that was bombed? Where is his grave, and the ship, now? And why didn’t anyone in my family seem to know the answers?

I spoke with both my dad and his older brother, my uncle, as a starting point. Unfortunately, they knew little more than what Claire had told me decades ago. My uncle told me that he remembered someone once telling him that Colin had died during the British evacuation at Dunkirk apparently due to the betrayal of a shipmaster who had given the ship’s departure time and location to the Germans. But he admitted, he could not remember correctly if that is exactly what he heard. It's simply the case, they both told me, and in a departure from today’s tendency to overshare, that those who served in The War, such as both their parents, did not discuss these things in too much detail.

My own research quickly hit a dead end. The Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC), generally pretty comprehensive and accessible online, had no trace of a ‘Colin Thomas’ born in 1918 and with recognizable parents. It was like he never existed.

Then finally, one Saturday evening, late into the night, I realized my error. An error based on a very simple oversight, and yet one that remarkably no one else had picked up on either. My mum had sent over scans of a very old black and white photo of a four month old Colin, dated June, 1918, that she found amongst Claire’s old possessions. Only it had “Baby John Colin Lee Thomas' ' written on the back. Aha! Although it seems he went by Colin all his life, his full name had been lost to history. Armed with this new information, I went back to the CWGC archives and just minutes later I was staring at a picture of what appeared to be my Grand Uncle’s name on a memorial plaque at the Commonwealth War Graves section of Dunkirk Town Cemetery.

Uncovering the mystery

“I’ve found him…” I remember murmuring out loud to my housemate as I scrolled down. There he was: Private John Colin Thomas, died 17 June 1940, aged 22, Son of John Weldon Thomas and Amy Thomas, of Hall Green, Birmingham; my great grandparents.

On the surface at least it seemed like my uncle might have been right. Judging by the location of his memorial plaque, had Colin died in the Dunkirk evacuation? Not quite. Some quick googling revealed that the final evacuation from Dunkirk had taken place on June 4th, 13 days prior to when Colin had officially died. Something wasn’t right.

Further digging eventually revealed that Colin had actually ‘died’ some 335 miles south of Dunkirk, off the coast of the small port town of Saint-Nazaire, aboard the SS Lancastria, the sinking of which, as I would soon discover, remains the largest single loss of life in British maritime history. Indeed, more people died in this tragedy than that of the death toll from the sinking of the Titanic and Lusitania combined. Now I had found my uncle, I dove into the Lancastria’s story; a story I ashamedly hadn’t even known the existence of.

Colin at the age of 22, as he would have been in 1940. Courtesy: Michael Sheldrick, shown with full permission.

Lancastria

The SS Lancastria was a 16,243-ton, five decked ship that up until the outbreak of war in 1939 had been a lavish luxury cruise liner. It toured the Norwegian fjords, and across the Mediterranean and West Indies before being hastily requisitioned by the British Government and outfitted as a troop ship. It spent the early months of the war ferrying soldiers back and forth from Canada to the UK, assisted in the evacuation of Norway, before finally being called upon to play a pivotal role in ‘Operation Ariel’; the name of the lesser known campaign that followed the aftermath of the evacuation of Dunkirk. The scenes leading up to it were no less dramatic.

Overwhelmed by the might of the Nazi blitzkrieg, French defenses had quickly collapsed in the days following the last departure from Dunkirk. Countless civilian refugees, French soldiers and the vast remainder of British forces in France - some 150,000 men - hurriedly escaped south. On June 14th, an urgent call went out to the crew of Lancastria, then docked in Liverpool, to make haste for the French port of Saint Nazaire. That very same day, the Nazis occupied Paris. Things were dire.

Colin, I discovered, was by this point based at a weapons and equipment storage base at Nantes, the old historical capital of Brittany located about 40 miles from the sea. Having been an articled clerk prior to the war, Colin was one of many support troops, engineers, repair men, transport and communications staff, wireless operators, air force ground crew, store minders, cooks, bakers, and clerks that supplied the main British Expeditionary Force. Known collectively as “the Grocers,” the vast majority of these personnel were located, at least initially, far behind the main defense lines and most would never have expected to see conflict. Of course, few expected either that France would fall so quickly to the German onslaught.

In the wake of Paris’ capture, General Alan Brooke, the commander of all remaining British forces in France, pleaded with Churchill to issue a general order for evacuation. During an intense thirty minutes call in the early hours of June 15th, a desperate Brooke informed Churchill of the irreversible collapse in French morale saying it “was impossible to make a corpse feel.” Churchill relented and at 10am that same morning, a general evacuation order was given. Later that day, word reached my uncle’s base in Nantes.

As those at the base rushed to depart, numerous reports document a rushed frenzy ensuing to burn and destroy any equipment, vehicles and armaments that could not be carried out to prevent them from falling into German hands. Meanwhile, others helped themselves to remaining food and drink stockpiles. As 19-year-old Henry Harding from Wales would later recount: “Everything was thrown open… you could help yourself to whatever it was you wanted, so we took chocolate.”Then, with German planes already in control of the skies above, they headed out to converge on what author Johanthan Fenby describes as “the last escape hatch left.”

Within the next 24 hours, Saint Nazaire was overcrowded with British soldiers and refugees. Local French citizens cried as the British began clambering aboard requisitioned ocean liners. It was into this scene of chaos that the Lancastria would arrive the next day, June 17th. It was to prove a fateful day.

More than six thousand reportedly boarded the Lancastria with Colin’s corps amongst the very last to board. Those who had boarded first were greeted by men in fancy white uniforms with gold buttons who assigned them all rooms. While they waited for others to board, a lucky few tucked into sausages, bacon and eggs with hot buttered toast for breakfast. It must have been quite the comfort after days after a hurried dash to the coast.

Eventually though, the vessel was so cramped that officers pleaded with Lancastria’s Captain to take no more. He pushed back, saying he had been ordered to take as many as possible without respect to international law. They were all anxious to leave. They had good reason to be. There had been reports of other ships being attacked by the Luftwaffe although fortunately no major disasters had yet struck.

As thousands crammed onto the assembled ships, news was already spreading in the port that France’s newly appointed leader, Marshall Pétain, had that morning agreed to open armistice talks with Germany. Across the English Channel, Churchill was soon meeting France’s soon to be leader in exile, Charles de Gaulle, in the gardens of Number 10 Downing Street. While that same day, up in Belgium, Hitler was said to have hit his thigh in glee upon hearing the news of France’s capitulation. As Churchill would declare later that day, “the Battle for France was over.”

Sinking

After waiting painstakingly for its escort, the Lancastria finally began to pull out of the dock. Yet, any relief those aboard felt was quickly dashed as shortly thereafter six Luftwaffe planes came down from the skies. A minute later siren on the ship sounded. Heard “a chilling banshee scream… howling from the sky.” Initial bombs missed but a series of successive bombs hit their mark, with one payload going straight down the ship’s fennel. It was fatal. The ship went down in 20 minutes. Thousands onboard perished.

To read the survivor accounts is harrowing. Collectively, they portray a scene straight from Dante’s inferno. One 15 year old who helped with the rescue described the scene he saw as “hell… abominable, the height of horror.”

We will never know for sure exactly how Colin died, and perhaps that is for the best. Most of those packed in the ships hold died instantly from the initial bomb explosion. Many others drowned, either because they couldn’t swim or were trapped. Only 2,000 life belts were on board for at least 3 times that many men. Splinters of wood from walls and floors impaled people standing nearby. Oil flowed out of a ripped oil tank. Those who survived the initial sinking choked on the oil that flooded the surrounding waters. But most ghastly and cruelly, the Luftwaffe planes returned to gun down those swimming to shore.

One account stands out from the rest however. A handful of soldiers standing on the Lancastria’s rapidly sinking hull as it descended into the water, proudly and defiantly singing the war time classics of Roll Out The Barrel and There Will Always Be An England.

I have discovered the initial telegram that was issued in the immediate aftermath of the Lancastria’s demise. Colin is listed as ‘Missing In Action.’ It is hard to say exactly when my great grandparents and his two sisters would have been notified. I do know that when they did it left a deep scar on my grandmother, claire, and a burning desire, in her words, “to kill Germans.” A self-described “Tom Boy”, Colin was her hero and in joining the defense forces she was determined to ensure his life was not in vain.

Only in more recent decades has the story of the Lancastria become more known. Despite it, or perhaps because of it, accounting for more than a third of all losses in the war up to that point, and wanting to maintain British morale, Churchill felt justified in putting a censorship notice on the media and even survivors from talking about it. After all, it must not have been hard to imagine England falling next to the Nazi war machine. It was so kept so tightly under wraps that those who survived did not talk to wives and relatives about it until decades later.

75th anniversary

It wasn’t until the 75th anniversary of the Lancastria’s sinking, in 2015, that the British Parliament formally acknowledged it. Standing in for the Prime Minister, George Obsborne said: "It was kept secret at the time for reasons of wartime secrecy, but I think it is appropriate today in this House of Commons to remember all those who died, those who survived, and those who mourn them."

Unfortunately, it is the brutal reality that for most those who died onboard Lancastria is just one of many tragedies during the war. What should make this one stand out from all the rest? Added to this is the fact that unlike Dunkirk’s “victory in defeat”, which continues to provide the source material for so many TV shows and films, a tragedy of Lancastria’s proportions is unlikely to stir British patriotism. The stories of the 150,000 men left behind in France after Dunkirk has been largely forgotten in popular mainstream history books on the Second World War.

Even amongst members of my own extended family I encountered indifference. I remember one of my dad’s cousins, Colin’s own nephew, replying curtly to a message I sent that no one ever spoke to him about Colin and I probably know more than he does.

I could not let the story end there however. I thought about Claire all those years ago telling me about her beloved brother. And I thought of Colin's memorial plaque in Dunkirk. It occurred to me that not one member of his family had visited it in the past eight decades. My dad said it was a shame he did not find this out in Claire’s lifetime. He would have taken her to see it. She couldn’t go, but we could.

So shortly before the 80th anniversary of the Lancastria’s sinking, my sister, dad and mum, took the ferry across. At 8am on a cold, misty, winter day we visited the grave. We had taken with us a small bottle of whiskey. We poured each of us a small cup, and then a fifth one. Then, crouching to the small plaque, we raised a toast.

John Lee Colin Thomas, lost on the Lancastria on June 17, 1940. Lost but not forgotten.

What do you think of Michael’s touching article? Let us know below.

There were many factors behind the United States becoming more isolationist during the 1920s and 1930s. However, here it is argued that the primary factors were the history and mindset of America, the overall ending of the First Word War, and the extreme economic turmoil of the 1930s and the Great Depression.

Alan Cunningham explains - and also adds some more recent context with the Trump years.

A US ‘NO FOREIGN ENTANGLEMENTS’ anti-war sign prior to the US joining World War II.

The attitudes and overall mindset many Americans Margaret MacMillan, a professor of history at Canada’s Ryerson University and a fellow at Oxford, describes America’s disdain of European powers as being ingrained within the country since the American Revolutionary War, writing, “the very act of rebellion by the 13 colonies was a turning away from the old, corrupt European powers”. MacMillan also writes how this sentiment did not end at the turn of the 19th century, but continued with the ever present fear that the British would return and try to reclaim their lost territories (as had occurred in the War of 1812) and was strengthened by a fear of Catholicism, which she asserts was just as reviled in the 19th century as Communism would be in the 20th century, noting, “the fear was the same and helped to fuel isolationism”.

The end of the First World War brought about the desire to improve the domestic standing of the country, with many Americans believing they had performed their global duty and preserved their own safety and should not become involved in the creation of international legal bodies or more ingrained into the European-led system. According to Jeremy Suri, a professor of History at the University of Texas at Austin, “Americans in the 1920s felt betrayed by leaders and allies who had taken them into a long and costly war that ended with the strengthening of Europe's largest empires and a communist revolution in Russia”; certainly engaging in a conflict that many thought would be “over by Christmas” and that resulted in one of the largest countries (in terms of population and outright size) becoming a Communist power was an outcome many disliked. Seeing soldiers who now suffered from what would today be called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), had ghastly wounds and hearing the media report on victories and losses with horrific death toll numbers also would have moved many to want to cease involvement in similar conflicts.

Domestic focus

What many Americans desired was to focus on their own domestic economy and social issues, this “internal growth and development” coming about through increased tariffs which, “restrict[ed] the influx of imported goods, thereby increasing domestic production”. However, as Suri points out, “Isolationism and intolerance in the 1920s smothered the openness and cooperation necessary for healthy economic growth. Closing markets triggered, in part, the Great Depression, cutting off the country from needed resources, consumers, and allies abroad”. These types of economic policies that are wholly domestic and involve no other outside relationship with foreign markets became a recipe for disaster. They contributed to one of the worst periods in American history, when unemployment was extremely high, food became harder to find, and it seemed democracy could come under strain. The Depression forced Americans to focus on improving their own economic standing which resulted in Americans being left out of decisions that would lead to Hitler’s rise to power, the rise of Fascism in Europe, and the growing threat of Japan as a military power. As the State Department’s Office of the Historian bluntly puts it, “[there were] clear dangers [that] emerged during the Great Depression of the 1930s”.

Because of these reasons, it is apparent why the U.S. did not feel the need to embrace the larger world and Europe in economics and foreign policy, basing this on their own desire for pause and respite and building off centuries old sentiments about their country’s place in the world. However, one of the more intriguing questions is why the U.S. chose isolationism over other solutions that seemed to improve foreign relationships, build strong economic ties, and improve the safety and security of the United States in addition to the globe (something that is often mentioned in U.S. politics)? Suri again provides an explanation to this, writing, “Americans embraced isolationism and intolerance because they were false solutions to deeper structural problems. Technological innovations like the assembly line and the automobile displaced millions of people, but instead of adjusting, citizens turned to leaders who promised to halt change. As demographics were re-defining ethnic, racial and religious identities, politicians pledged to keep America white, Anglo-Saxon and protestant”. In the end, the meaning behind why Americans voluntarily chose to isolate was built upon the fact that it seemed to be the easiest and fastest option, not because it was the most beneficial (though those who supported it certainly found reasons to justify the measure) to improving America’s place in the world.

Modern day

There are many similarities to American sentiments in the 1920s to current, modern-day public sentiments. Suri also discusses this, writing, “Trump has identified some serious problems within American society: economic inequality, social displacement and deep distrust in established institutions. Millions of Americans feel they have been cheated, and they blame political elites. They are looking for changes that will restore hope and dignity to their lives. In response, Trump is recycling the repertoire of the early 20th century because it appears to address these contemporary concerns”.

Simply put, Trump capitalized on fear throughout the 2016 and 2020 U.S. presidential elections, fear of the other, fear of the establishment, and fear of the upper and lower classes. This can easily be seen in the rhetoric he utilizes in which he made note through his 2016 campaign that he would build a wall and keep illegal immigrants out of the country (fear of the other), he attacked other Republicans on their stances (fear of the establishment), and capitalized on a large amount of American’s distaste of the Affordable Care Act and the fact that the Obama administration seemingly allowed the Wall Street bankers to continue their business without repercussion. While many economists (Paul Krugman for instance) and journalists (like Andrew Ross Sorkin and Bethany McLean) agree that the 2008 bailing out of the banks was the best course of action to save America’s economy and preventing another Great Depression, members of both the left and right political ideologies disliked this action and resented the bailout. Much like how the Great Depression prevented the U.S. from becoming more entrenched in foreign policy actions around the world, the 2008 financial crisis left many Americans desiring to recoup their lost income and benefits and focus on their own domestic issues instead of turning an eye to the rest of the world. The president’s remarks about Muslims and immigrants also capitalizes on the American public’s fears surrounding those groups (going back to Islamophobia); there are quite obvious similarities to public fears of Irish and Chinese immigrants and Catholicism in earlier periods. 

I believe that the factors that influence Trump and those who support him are very similar to those non-internationalist policies we saw in the 1920s. They are built upon the same biases of hatred and fear along with desires for fairness and improvement in the economic system. Also, it is interesting to think about how the Wars in Afghanistan and Iraq play into this. Many Americans now are tired of being involved in foreign military operations and nearly every president since 2001 has run on the platform of removing troops from Afghanistan, the longest war in U.S. history. The forces that propelled the U.S. into an isolationist stance in the 1920s also propelled Trump to the White House in the 2016 election and will absolutely be a factor in the 2024 U.S. presidential elections.

What do you think of the article? Let us know below.

Now read Alan’s article on how public opinion impacts foreign policy in America here.

Beer has been made for thousands of years around the world. Many cultures, nations and people contributed to the beer we drink today. America’s history with beer began with Native Americans. Their beer was made from maize. It was a recipe they shared with the Pilgrims who landed at Plymouth Rock. Coincidentally, the Pilgrims only stopped at Plymouth Rock because they ran out of beer.

Beer was a necessary staple because water was just too dangerous to drink. Most households made their own beer well into the 1800s and it was a drink for all ages. Wealthy early Americans built their own brew houses on their land. There were many different recipes depending on the ingredients a family had on hand. Fruits, vegetables, herbs and spices might make it into the mix of grains, hops, water and yeast. Of course, these beers taste different now, but the basic recipe is the same.  

Angie Grandstaff tells us about beer in the 19th century and five of the oldest breweries in the USA.

Anheuser-Busch brewery in St Louis, Missouri in the late 19th century.

Beer in the 1800s

Since most early Americans made their own beer the need for commercial breweries wasn’t big. Brewing beer was a local affair because beer did not travel well. Beer was stored and served in wooden casks. By 1810, there were 140 breweries in America. The 1800s brought many changes to American life.

The Industrial Revolution led many families to urban areas and away from their farms. German, Irish and British immigrants flooded into America. Their homelands had very strong beer cultures so the demand for beer was high in the mid 1800s. Advances in science and technology after the Civil War allowed breweries to mass produce beer. 

Transformation and Prohibition

Immigrants had a profound effect on beer. The original American beer was a heavy, British style ale. German influence led beer to become a lighter lager. This beer became the beer of choice for many Americans. There were 1,800 breweries in America in 1900. Business was booming.

Prohibition of alcohol in America changed everything. Prohibition was law from 1920 to 1933. It put many breweries out of business for good. The ones that survived had to get creative during those years to stay afloat. Breweries sold near beer, soft drinks, malted milk, fruit juices and more. After Prohibition, big breweries like Budweiser, Miller, Coors and Pabst dominated beer sales. It wasn’t until the 1970’s that breweries truly started to rise again.

Brewing in America has evolved with the influence of many different people, innovations and laws. Here are the five oldest breweries still in operation today who had a big impact on beer and brewing in America.

The Oldest Brewery in America: Yuengling

Most of the early American breweries are gone except Yuengling. Yuengling Brewery was founded by a German immigrant, David G. Yuengling. He landed in Pottsville, Pennsylvania in 1823 and changed his name from Jüngling to Yuengling. He started his brewery in 1829. It was originally named the Eagle Brewery and its label still bears the image of the original eagle today. Yuengling wanted to embrace his adoptive home by using the eagle in the name for his brewery.

Yuengling Brewery faced a devastating fire in 1831 but they rebuilt and prospered. David G. Yuengling had two sons. The eldest went to Virginia to start his own brewery and the second oldest didn’t join the Yuengling brewing business until 1873. That is when Eagle Brewery officially became Yuengling Brewery. Yuengling opened other breweries in the northeast during the late 1800s. Their production stayed steady but limited. Therefore, even today you can’t buy Yuengling everywhere. The original beer recipe has remained the same since its beginnings. While many breweries have changed owners many times, Yuengling Brewery is still a Yuengling family business.

Milwaukee Beer Giant: Pabst Brewing Company

The Pabst Brewing Company started as a family business in 1844 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The brewery was started by Jacob Best Sr. who retired in 1853 and left the brewery in the hands of two of his sons, Jacob Jr and Phillip. Their partnership didn’t last long because of financial difficulties. Phillip was left in charge of the brewery and he brought in his own reinforcements, his son-in-law Frederick Pabst and Emil Schandein. They became partners and brought a fresh perspective to the brewery which was now called the Phillip Best and Company.

Pabst and Schandein helped the struggling brewery thrive through changes with transportation, the science of the brewing and most significantly marketing. The name changed again when Phillip retired and Schandein passed away to Pabst Brewing Company. The innovative marketing strategies kept this brewery successful. Pabst’s ads were in everything from newspapers, magazines, theater programs and train schedules. They put the Pabst name on calendars, cigar cases, matchboxes and notepads. Pabst became Pabst Blue Ribbon after they won a gold medal at the 1893 Chicago Columbian Exposition.

Pabst faced much competition from Schlitz, Miller and Anheuser-Busch in particular. They stayed in the game with their marketing and new brewing innovations like selling canned beer in 1935. Pabst purchased other breweries around the country to help them expand production. Today Pabst is using contract brewing with MillerCoors instead of doing their own brewing. Their willingness to change and use new innovations helped Pabst beer survive.

Many names, many families but still brewing: Minhas Brewing

The Minhas Brewing company began as Monroe Brewery in 1845. The brewery was started by Mr. Bissinger in Monroe, Wisconsin. It was a small operation which originally produced only a few hundred barrels per year. The brewery changed hands in 1850 with the new owner, John Knipschield, expanding enough to hire two men to do the brewing. 

In 1857 the brewery was taken over by George Esser and John Hermann. Hermann lived in the brewery during this time. They expanded by building an underground beer storage cellar and adding a lager to the beer brewed. Prior to this, the brewery only brewed ales. Esser and Hermann dissolved their partnership when Esser became upset over Hermann’s fiancee visiting him at night. Esser’s memoirs state that they threw lots over who would keep the brewery. Hermann won. In an attempt to expand production, Hermann started using a horse to help power the brewery.

The brewery changed hands twice more between 1861 and 1885. The owner in 1885 was Jacob Hefty who took on his brother-in-law, Albert Blumer Sr. as his partner. Blumer became the sole owner in 1892. He took the one-horse brewery and rebuilt the plant, equipping it with modern machinery. Albert’s sons took over in 1918 and boosted production from 1,500 barrels a year to 12,000.

The brewery was bought by Carl O. Marty in 1938 because he wanted the storage space for his cheese manufacturing company. He sold the beer operation to Joseph Huber who worked as a brewer worker for Blumer. He changed the brewery name to Huber Brewing. Huber and his son Fred kept the brewery going when so many breweries were going out of business. Fred sold the brewery in 1985 only to buy it back in 1989 and sell it again in 1994 to Dan Weinstein. Weinstein and his family expanded the brewery until they sold it in 2006 to Canadian business mogul, Manjit Minhas. This brewery has had a very interesting history but despite all the twists and turns, it has been brewing at the same location since 1845.

American Icon: Anheuser-Busch

Eberhard Anheuser bought a struggling St. Louis brewery in 1860. His daughter married Adolphus Busch, a German immigrant, a year later. Adolphus joined his father-in-law in the beer brewing business. So begins the story of an American beer icon. Adolphus had big dreams of taking his beer nationwide and looked to the innovations of the day to expand the brewery. He used refrigerated railcars to transport his beer plus incorporated pasteurization in the brewing process.

Most beer being brewed were ales, but some breweries were branching into lagers, which were lighter beers. Anheuser-Busch introduced their lager, Budweiser in 1876. This beer became the king of beers and a national beer due to Busch’s efforts. Advertisement helped Anheuser-Busch dominate beer sales. The famous Budweiser Clydesdale horses, which are still seen in advertisements today, were introduced in 1933. The horses were a gift from Adolphus III to his son to celebrate the end of Prohibition. They also sent wagons led by the Clydesdales around New York to deliver beer to the governor, Alfred Smith and former President Theodore Roosevelt to further celebrate the end of Prohibition.

Prohibition and World War II affected Anheuser-Busch’s production but following the war the company entered a significant era of progress. August A. Busch was president during this time. His nine national brewing networks increased production from 3 million barrels to 34 million barrels a year. Anheuser-Busch became America’s number one brewer and it still is today.

High Life: Miller Brewing Company

Frederick Miller was born in Germany and spent his formative years in France studying. He had a reputation of acting and dressing like a Frenchman but eventually won over Milwaukee with his beer. Miller came to America in 1854 with his family to escape unrest in Germany. He traveled to Milwaukee and bought Plank Road Brewery from one of the Best brothers of Pabst Brewing. Miller opened his brewery in 1855. There was heavy brewing competition in Milwaukee, but Miller held his own. He opened saloons and beer gardens plus expanded sales to other towns like Chicago.

The family continued to expand through the late 1800s. In 1903, they introduced their flagship beer, Miller High Life. Like Pabst and Anheuser-Busch, Miller Brewing excelled at using advertising to boost sales. Miller High Life was called ‘the Champagne of Bottle Beer’ in advertisements. The Girl in the Moon was put on the bottle in 1907 and is still there today. Miller Brewing sponsored sports broadcasts, radio and television shows to help get their beer in the public eye. They were also instrumental in bringing a major league baseball team to Milwaukee. In 1953, the Braves moved from Boston to Milwaukee and Miller Brewing paid for the scoreboard and advertising rights in the stadium.

The 1950s and 1960s saw much expansion and growth for Miller Brewing. Frederick C. Miller and his son were killed in a plane crash in 1954. This would eventually lead to the company moving out of the hands of the Miller family. In 1970, the tobacco giant, Phillip Morris bought Miller Brewing. Their advertising prowess led to the very popular advertising campaigns - “If you got the time, we got the beer”. Plus, the Miller Lite campaign of “Taste great…less filling”, that had celebrities debating over what is best about Miller’s Lite Beer.

Miller Brewing has expanded and remained the number two brewery in America by diversifying their brand and acquiring other breweries. Miller owns Lowenbräu, Molson’s, Foster’s, Kronenbourg, Beamish, Stroh’s and Leinenkugel. As mentioned in the history of Pabst, Miller is also the contract brewer for Pabst beers. The company merged with Coors Brewing in 2008. Miller Brewing is now MillerCoors as they head into their next chapter.

Back to our roots

Beer in America started in homes and small local breweries. Today, we have come full circle. An estimated 1 million Americans are brewing beer at home. Millions more are heading down to their local brewery for a pint. This is the golden age of beer with more than 9,000 breweries in America. The variety available today would astound those early brewers. Beer has been a staple in American life since the country’s beginnings. It continues to be consumed by millions and its future looks bright.   

What do you think of beer in America? Let us know below.

Now read Angie’s article on 5 incredible pioneering female pilots here.

Angie Grandstaff is a writer and librarian. She loves to write about history, books and self-development. 

The West has had a long and complicated relationship with Russia since 1900. From Britain, France, and America being allies with Russia and the USSR during the world wars to deep distrust in the Cold War, Stephen Prout explains how the relationship has evolved to the present day.

Stalin, Roosevelt, and Churchill at the 1943 Tehran Conference.

Throughout the last century and certainly in current times the impression of Russia from a western perspective has been of a menacing spectre. Previous decades have seen imperial rivalry with Britain over the Far and the Middle East, the threat of communist expansion resulting in the Cold War, the tyranny of Stalin during the great purges, the arms race with all its hostile rhetoric, and threats of nuclear escalations. In recent times we have evidence of accusations of meddling in US elections, assassinations in the UK of Russian dissidents and alleged cyber-attacks on Western governmental and commercial organisations. In fact, it is hard not to pick any decade where Russia has been regarded in a favourable light.

Winston Churchill once quoted of Russia “I cannot forecast you the action of Russia. It is a riddle wrapped inside a mystery inside an enigma, but there is a key. That key is Russian national interest.”  This summed up well the feelings of the time concerning the Soviet Union and this quote continues to be relevant in modern times. To try and understand this we must track Russia’s journey from the beginning of the twentieth century to the present day. What events have created this hostility, mistrust even paranoia?

A New Century and the First World War

At the beginning of the twentieth century the Russian Empire amongst all the main European powers was the most reviled in Europe. It was less than half a century since when Britain and France had clashed with Russia in the Crimea.

Despite the relationships and direct family connections of Britain and Russia’s royal families, Britain had been wary of Russia and had been making endeavors to contain Russia’s influence in the Middle East and Afghanistan.

By 1904 Russia had embarked on a short and disastrous war with Japan and the result was defeat and international humiliation that highlighted military weakness. More humiliation ensued as her ally France reneged from treaty obligations with Russia to avoid antagonizing Great Britain. The world it seemed did not trust Russia and the feeling would be reciprocal - and as time went on irreconcilable. All this would shortly be put aside when the three powers formed the triple entente in the face of German militarism. Unity against a common enemy did not necessarily mean they would be lasting allies though.

Russia had ambitions for a sphere of influence in the Middle East. This time Britain and France found it expedient to offer such a prospect at the expense of the Ottomans as an incentive to her contributing to an alliance against Germany. None of this would come to fruition as the events of World War One unfolded and the promises to Russia were not honored.

Like the war with Japan the war went in an adverse direction. The Russian forces were partially capable of containing the Austrians, but no match for the Germans who rolled her forces back through Belorussia and Ukraine. The combined effects of economic devastation, hatred of the Tsar and the war itself drove the discontent that created the Russian Revolution. That would be the first foothold of communism and would unsettle the world. Russia would find herself friendless, ostracized, bitter, and mistrustful at the war’s end.

The Russians needed peace and time to augment their new regime and make good on the revolution's promises to its people. This stability came in the form of the Brest-Litovsk peace settlement and it came at an extremely high price. Russia lost large chunks of European land and her many coal mines. It was a loss that for the time being she would have to bear but opportunity would later come to reclaim it.

At this time, her former allies occupied various ports in Russia and supported the anti-revolutionary movements much to the new government’s chagrin. The west it seemed was no more to be trusted than the very nations she fought against so in 1922 Russia signed the Treaty of Rapallo with Germany, another outcast. This treaty had secret clauses that allowed Germany to develop her military machine out of sight of Western eyes, a violation of the Versailles Treaty. Had Western actions and meddling created a future unnecessary hostile force?

The Interwar Years and World War Two

As the first world war was ending the newly established USSR was at war with Poland. Poland was formerly incorporated into former Imperial Russia, but the post war settlement created a new Polish state that would not be satisfied with the boundaries established by Lord Curzon as they took large expanses of Ukraine and Belorussia. The Soviets lost even more territory and received little support.

However, the USSR did little to improve the perception of themselves in their formative years to reassure the West. The USSR was finally recognized by the international community and admitted to the League in 1934. The remaining interwar years were overshadowed with the ruthless actions of its leader, Stalin. A totalitarian shadow had been cast over Russia and the world feared it would expand as the USSR intervened in the Spanish Civil War. Internally, very public trials during the purges and long incarcerations in the labor camps gave a glimpse of what Soviet rule would bring.

Despite this the USSR had its external supporters. The socialists in Britain, enamored with Soviet achievements, overlooked or condoned any controversy that slipped out of the USSR. Major industrial corporations from the US and Britain such as Rolls Royce and Ford clamored to do business with a vibrant economy.

For the unemployed, desperate, and needy, the Soviet Union was seen as a utopia as the capitalist nations such Britain and the USA struggled in the Great Depression. The USSR boasted of full employment, affordable housing and free education and health services so much so that thousands from the USA emigrated, something that these people would later regret when they found themselves abandoned. There were reports of desperate messages reaching the US embassies from US expatriates, but political expediency allowed such things to be conveniently ignored. It did not mean that the West fully trusted the USSR and they were given good reason as the Second World War loomed.

By 1939 the USSR had signed two pacts, one with Germany and one with Japan. That meant the three main militaristic powers were aligned in a state of co-operation and were threatening British, US and other interests around the world. The USSR in two treaties had derailed any collective security and in turn allowed the full might of Japan and Germany to be unleashed on the rest of the world.

The pacts at face value were very strange and politically incongruous considering the ideological differences. In 1936 Germany and Japan had signed The Anti-Comintern Pact aimed specifically at the USSR and the advance of communism. Hitler’s speeches left no room for doubt how he felt about the USSR even in his early writings in Mein Kampf. As the democracies were in retreat, Germany and the USSR invaded and divided up Poland. The USSR added Baltic states and ten percent of Finland’s territory to her spoils.

Following Operation Barbarossa Russia joined the allies to defeat Nazi Germany but would leave the outcome of Europe and future international relations in an equally parlous state. As the war ended so the question of Soviet reliability raised its head again. Once again, a unity against a common enemy did not necessarily mean a long-term friendship.

The Cold War to Glasnost and Perestroika

The war ended with Eastern Europe remaining under a new totalitarian rule. Poland had found itself liberated from one dictator only to be ruled by a no less brutal Soviet version along with East Germany, Hungary, Bulgaria, Romania, and the former Czechoslovakia.

The uneasy wartime alliance had dissolved by the end of the war. Hostile actions by the USSR with the Berlin Blockade and the establishment of the “Iron Curtain” led to NATO’s formation in 1949 as communism now appeared to be the new enemy. In 1955 the USSR, viewing NATO as a threat, formed their own defensive alliance with its satellite states. Security was the underlying motive certainly in Europe, but the following decades would have the USSR supporting various insurrectionist organisations and proxy wars against the west.

From the point of view of the USSR they had without debate experienced the most savagery in the war. Allied actions did little to give assurances such as the delays to opening a second front in 1943. The USSR it seemed was left to bear the full force of the Wehrmacht alone. Too many times had she been betrayed so the future security and the buffer states of Eastern Europe provided a bulwark against future aggression they perceived would come again from the West. However, the USSR’s perspectives are veiled by secrecy, their intentions will never fully be clear, and this makes it difficult to offer any counterarguments. We are left with her actions that seem to speak louder than anything else.

The next four decades saw the Soviet military machine brutally suppressed its own satellites in Hungary 1956 and Czechoslovakia in 1968. The Soviets were keeping their vassal states under a tight reign. In 1979 the world watched a Soviet invasion of Afghanistan to shore up a failing communist government. Her presence behind the scenes of revolutionary regimes in Palestine, Libya, Syria, and Iraq would have their own limited but destructive impacts.

For a short while there appeared to be optimism after the fall in Communism in 1989, the unification of Germany and the dissolution of the Warsaw Pact - but this was to be short lived as history moved into the twenty first century. As the USSR broke up into separate autonomous nations it created an unstable base for peace and security for the future.

Russia – back to a New Cold War?

There is a quote from a source Putin’s People, “The Soviet Empire might have been lost…for them, the end of the communist empire did not mean an end of hostilities, but an opportunity to eventually continue them under new auspices.” The events of the twenty first century support this.

The twenty first century saw the East-West rapprochement disintegrate. In eight months in 2014 Russia conducted thirty-nine violations into NATO airspace. In that same year, the world saw her annexation of the Crimea from Ukraine. Russian dissidents were poisoned allegedly by Russian agents on British soil in the infamous Salisbury incidents. There followed allegations of tampering in US elections and in 2022 Russia began an invasion of Ukraine after false reassurances of military exercises.

In March 2014, US President Barack Obama, in a speaking engagement at the Nuclear Security Summit in the Hague, stated that Russia was a regional power as opposed to a superpower, which is what she believed. In the speech he implied that NATO would support non-member countries with non-military means to counter Russia but at the same time stating that Russia was not the principle geographical threat. It was a slap in the face.

Russian pride was hurting, and they needed to reinstate their status as a world power on the same level as the USA who it seemed could cherry pick the international rules by which they could play. Already in 2008 Russia had taken military action in a breakaway region of Georgia to international disdain and the rest Ukraine was soon to follow.

Putin authored an essay in 2020 titled On the Historical Unity of Russia and Ukraine. In that essay he references Ukraine and reveals a motive. It quotes “modern Ukraine was entirely invented by Russia” and goes on “Ukraine is not just a neighbouring country for us” but “an inalienable part of our own culture and space.” Was Russia lamenting its lost territories from the collapse of the USSR? Is Ukraine an omen that these are losses they will not be prepared to let go and will bring back into a new unified Russia?

It appears history repeats with a new cold war and Russia is now internationally isolated again, with few allies and harsh economic sanctions. Nevertheless, there is no acceptable defence for her current actions in Ukraine or any displays of her aggression. The argument of Russia entering her own backyard is reminiscent of the one used to condone Nazi actions in the Rhineland occupation. It is as legitimate as say Britain or France seizing her former colonial possessions by force. The excuse of needing security is risible and although NATO has without doubt expanded easterly it has not threatened Russian or attempted any sovereign violations. Those new nations joined out of fear of Russia and the conditions they endured as former satellites.

There is a pattern of deep mistrust, secrecy and paranoia that has always been and always will be firmly rooted in Russia and this is also projected inward as well as externally as leaders fear lost privilege, power and sometimes safety. No matter the leader, no matter when the decade and no matter the type of regime. It is true to say that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

What do you think of Western relations with Russia since 1900? Let us know below.

Now, read about Britain’s relations with the Soviet Union and France in World War 2 here.

Bibliography

Who Lost Russia? – Peter Conradi – One World Publications - 2017

Armageddon – Max Hastings – Pan Macmillan 2004

Putin’s People – Catherine Belton – William Collins - 2020

Creeds of the Devil Churchill Between the Two Totalitarianisms 1917-45 – Antoine Capet Universite De Rouen

We Need to Talk about Putin- How the West Gets him Wrong – Mark Galeolli – Ebury Digital - 2019

The Forsaken: From the Great Depression to the Gulags: Hope and Betrayal in Stalin's Russia - Tim Tzouliadus – Abacus 2011

Mein Kampf – Adolf Hitler – Kindle edition

BBC Archives – reference Obama quote

By the latter half of the 17th century, the rule of Spain in the New World was reaching 200 years. Times were changing, both in the New World and in Europe, and the leaders of Spain knew it. Their problem was what to do about it. Spain had never had a coherent policy in its imperial rule. Since 1492, Spain was seemingly constantly at war, with an endless series of crises thrown into the mix. Solutions had to be found for the here and now, the future would take care of itself.

In this major series of articles Erick Reddington continues his look at the independence of Spanish America by looking at the four viceroyalties in the region: New Spain, New Granada, Peru, and La Plata.

A soldado de cuera, a group of soldiers who served in the frontiers of New Spain in the colonial period.

The mid- to late- seventeenth century has been, for decades, labeled “The Age of Absolutism.” This “Absolutism” has always implied the unquestioned and unconditional rule by one man: the king. This absolutism meant that the king was what modern people would think of as some 1930s style dictator who had complete control of his country and people.

This view is a product of post-revolutionary scholarship to justify the revolutions against the old order. Even more than a cursory glance at the governing structures of the 17th century will show the truth. Decades and centuries of traditions, bureaucratic structures, compromises, and privileges granted to localities and nobility made the governments of this time function a far cry from absolutist. Spain was no different. The Spanish Empire in America certainly did not function this way.

The primary reason the Spanish Empire could not function in this fashion was simple: distance. From Seville, the primary Spanish trading port to Vera Cruz, the main port in New Spain, was almost 5,700 nautical miles. Sailing 5 knots, it would take about 48 days from port to port. This does not include accounting for bad weather, stopping for supplies, or quarantines. It would be impossible to handle immediate situations with a twelve-week round-trip communication time.

Since immediate communication was impossible, in 1524, Charles V created the Council of the Indies. With the Bourbon Reforms, in 1714 this was superseded by a single Secretary of the Navy and the Indies. In the 1760s, this department was broken up and the Indies received its own portfolio. Neither a single minister nor a council based in Madrid could control the whole of Spanish America in an effective way. Universal rules for the entirety of the empire would not work. Stretching from the Arctic (in theory) to Tierra del Fuego, this territory encompasses a dizzying array of peoples, climates, and conditions. Madrid could never account for all circumstances and conditions. This led to the creation and increase in power of the viceroys.

The concept of a viceroy, or a person acting in the name of, and with the powers of, the king was not new. Its use in the formal administrative system of the empire was natural. When more and more territory was falling under Spanish control in the early 16th century, it was realized very early on that there was just too much territory to govern easily from Madrid. Spain could not just let the newly conquered territory go, however. There was simply too much wealth available to just walk away. The territory had to be governed, and this led to the first of the viceroyalties to be created: New Spain.

New Spain

New Spain was established early, created in 1535. Home of the original source of wealth from the New World, the fabulous wealth of the conquered Aztecs, New Spain grew into the most important of the viceroyalties for Spain. This was not simply intended to be an appendage of the mother country, however. This was the Kingdom of New Spain with King Charles on the throne. Since he could not be in two places at once, the viceroy would simply execute the kings powers in his absence. This system proved satisfactory in New Spain and would be replicated throughout Spanish America.

New Spain was enormous. Encompassing all the islands in the Caribbean under Spanish control, most of Central America, Florida, Mexico, the United States west of the Mississippi River, and the Oregon Country up to the 54th parallel, this territory was vital to Spain. From the agricultural wealth of the Cuban sugar plantations to the silver mines of Mexico, the wealth of New Spain made it the most important colony. Its capital, Mexico City, was the most important city in Spanish America. Built upon the ruins of the Aztec capital, Tenochtitlan, it was the most populous and richest city in the Spanish Empire. To be the governor of New Spain and take up residence in the viceregal capital was to reach the top of the colonial administration.

Even in this, the most important colony, the colony was sparsely under control. The Caribbean islands were under tight control due to the economic potential, but in the north and south of the colony, little had changed from pre-Columbian times. The north was full of tribes, many of whom could go decades without seeing any Spanish administrators. The most European contact these natives could have would be explorers on the coast or Catholic missionaries looking to convert them. This is how many of the famous missions, such as San Juan Capistrano and the Alamo, arose. For Spain, trading and converting these natives was the extent of their ambition.

In the south of the viceroyalty, many of the native tribes lived as they had for thousands of years. Like the north, in the interior trading and conversion were the primary goals of administration. On the coasts, however, the situation was different. Due to the tropical climate of the area, sugar production was possible, and therefore a plantation economy predominated. Because of the economic importance of the area, there were significant fortifications built and port defenses took priority. This led to disruptions of native life as well as a more militarized society than existed in the north of the colony or in the interior.

The most controversial part of New Spain, from a Spanish point of view was Louisiana. Originally founded as a French colony, Louisiana had great unrealized economic potential. Most importantly for Spain was that control of Louisiana, and its great port at the mouth of the Mississippi River, New Orleans, would provide a territorial link to the colony of Florida, which Spain had claims to. In 1763, at the failure of the Seven Years’ War, France had ceded this territory to Spain, which was incorporated into New Spain. It was used as a base for the Spanish to strike at the British during the American Revolution. After that war, Britain ceded Florida back to Spain. Later, in 1800, during the Napoleonic Wars, Spain ceded Louisiana back to France under the agreement that France would not cede the territory to another country. Only three years later, France sold the territory to the United States. For New Spain, the border of Louisiana was ill-defined. The resulting border tensions with the US would carry on after independence. In the years prior to the outbreak of the Latin American Revolutions, New Spain had been led by a series of very able Viceroys. Men like Carlos de Croix and Antonio de Bucareli y Ursúa were energetic in carrying out the Bourbon Reforms. A series of roads (called El Camino Real) to improve communication and travel were built. Military reforms were carried out to better defend the vast territory from British predation. The Jesuits were expelled to increase greater governmental control and weaken the hierarchy of the church. The colony even had its own squadrons of ships to control the coasts and significantly reduce the endemic piracy of the Caribbean.

New Granada

South of New Spain was the Kingdom of New Granada. Originally carved out from parts of Peru and New Spain, New Granada covered the northern part of South America and Panama. Of the four viceroyalties, this one was the least developed politically and economically. This was not entirely due to poor administration on the part of the Spanish. Two geographic features dominated the territory: mountains and jungle. The northern reaches of the Andes mountains made communication difficult. Road construction was extremely treacherous due to the broken terrain. In the valleys, jungles made the territory difficult to traverse. There were also tropical diseases and dangerous animals. The mountains and jungles, with little to no roads, made the logistics of any expedition into the interior mind-boggling.

Further exasperating attempts to expand were the natives of New Granada. With logistics so poor, it was extremely difficult to mount any type of expedition with sufficient force necessary to dislodge the natives from vast swaths of the territory. Of course, the natives did not want to be dislodged. Of these tribes, the most formidable were the Wayuu. Unlike many other South American tribes, the Wayuu were very happy to adopt European weapons and horses. In 1769, the Guajira Rebellion broke out in what is now the border area between Venezuela and Colombia. An estimated 20,000 warriors would attack and destroy any Spanish settlements they could take. Spain’s enemies, Britain and the Netherlands, were more than happy to supply the Wayuu with the guns and horses they were looking for. Although the rebellion would peter out over the ensuing months, it was a sign of the lack of control Spain had over the territory.

Due to the nightmarish terrain of the territory, the importance of the Captain-Generalcy division of the colony was more pronounced than in other viceroyalties. Foremost among these was the Captain-Generalcy of Venezuela. Originally founded centuries before as the attempted colony of Klein Venedig, Venezuela, unlike the rest of New Granada, had been under the jurisdiction of New Spain, not Peru. There was a sense of separateness for Venezuelans. This was further exasperated by the differing economy prevailing there. Cocoa and tobacco were the primary agricultural products of Venezuela. This differed from other colonies focused on either mining or sugar production. Also, due to the types of products grown in Venezuela, it saw a larger number of African slaves imported into the colony than the other parts of New Granada. This led to a different racial demographic and subsequently, racial attitudes were different there.

The internal divisions and cultural differences of the people of New Granada would lead to many problems during the revolutionary period. Although there were many times in which the colony came together to defeat external threats, such as major attacks during the War of Jenkins’ Ear, there was little politically or culturally to tie the kingdom together.

Peru

In the eyes of Spaniards, Peru rivalled New Spain in value to the mother country. The Kingdom of Peru was originally built on the ashes of the Inca Empire, just as New Spain was on the Aztecs. Peru gave Spain access to the Pacific Ocean along with New Spain. New Spain had a diverse economy with trade, agriculture, and mining all contributing to the wealth of the colony. Peru’s fabulous wealth was based primarily on mining. The Potosí mine is still today the largest source of silver on Earth. The wealth of Peru had been feeding the Spanish government for hundreds of years.

The Inca inheritance helped the Spanish in many ways. The terrain of Peru was much like New Granada, mountainous and full of jungle. However, the Inca were dedicated road builders who emphasized communication and speed of travel, especially for armies. This network of roads served Spain well in tapping the vast wealth of the country. The land was also more heavily populated with Natives than many other areas. Tribes such as the Quechua and Aymara served as trading partners, a source of converts, and erstwhile enemies. Due to the distances involved, it was deemed inefficient to bring in African slaves on a large scale to work the mines. Therefore, these tribes also served as a labor pool. Working and living in conditions no better than slavery, the great wealth of Peru was obtained off the backs of these natives.

Resentments amongst the natives would eventually grow into the Tupac Amaru Rebellion. A Quechua leader who styled himself Tupac Amaru II (after the last King of the Inca, Tupac Amaru), led tens of thousands of natives in a rising against the viceregal authorities. Curiously, Tupac Amaru told his followers he was acting in the name of the Spanish king against the corrupt colonial authorities. Although this rebellion would last only a short time, it would scar the colony, and lead to many leaders, such as Viceroy Ambrosio O’Higgins, to call for a more cooperative policy with the natives.

Originally, the Kingdom of Peru consisted of all the Spanish lands in South America, except for Venezuela. With the Bourbon Reforms, many of these territories had been shorn off. On the eve of the Wars of Independence, Peru was down to modern day Peru and Chile. Despite this, Peru was still considered one of the most important parts of the empire. Lima, the capital, was considered by its denizens the most important Spanish city in the Americas (Mexico City would disagree, of course).

Residing in Lima, like in Mexico City, were a series of Viceroys who provided bold leadership and innovative reforms. Ambrosio O’Higgins encourage trade and manufacturing. Infrastructure was improved, especially transport over the Andes. José de Armendárez encouraged greater silver production and attempted to crack down on corruption. The last Viceroy before the revolutions, Jose de Abascal y Sousa promoted internal reform, particularly bureaucratic and educational reform. The army was also reformed to make it more efficient and combat ready.

The Spanish focus on Peru and its importance, as well as the care that the crown showered on the colony, would lead to what was probably the most royalist colony in the Americas. Support for the king and the empire was probably higher in Peru than any other colony. It would consistently be a thorn in the side of the revolutionaries.

La Plata

The Viceroyalty of the Río de La Plata was, unlike the others, not an official kingdom. It began life as a viceroyalty. Due to the distances and communication difficulties involved, in retrospect, having the La Plata River basin under the control of Lima was absurd. Further, due to the inability to control an area so distant from the capital, corruption and smuggling were endemic. The area at the mouth of the Plata River was seen by many administrators in Spain as a cesspool that needed a firm hand and nothing more. As the Bourbon Reforms were meant to be based in rationality, the only rational thing to do would be to divide the administration. In 1776, the new viceroyalty was proclaimed with its capital at Buenos Aires. A large portion of Peru was spun off to the new La Plata to make a more Atlantic oriented unit, leaving Peru a Pacific viceroyalty.

The problem with expectations is that they are self-fulfilling. As La Plata was seen as a colonial backwater that was full of crime and corruption, only the worst colonial administrators wanted to go there. Despite the Potosí mine being designated in La Plata, revenues from the new colony were poor. The Spanish never fully realized the potential of the La Plata River basin. Others, however, did.

During the early Napoleonic Wars, when Spain was allied to France, British leaders believed that the La Plata would make a fine addition to their empire. Naval blockades would choke off the seaborne commerce of the area. Raids on the region would make life difficult for the inhabitants. In 1807, the British would occupy Buenos Aires. The reaction from the criollos was immediate. Without measurable support from Spain, the regions leaders were able to defeat and force the British force to surrender, further emboldening the leaders of the colony and embittering them against a Spanish administration that just did not seem to care.

Another competitor was Portugal. The colossus of the Portuguese colony of Brazil would loom over the La Plata region. The Portuguese leaders in Rio de Janeiro were desirous of gaining a foothold at the mouth of the La Plata River to access the interior. Due to the geography of Brazil, accessing the interior of the colony was difficult over land. The Portuguese had eyes on the city of Montevideo. As Portugal was a British ally and Spain was a French ally, it was obvious that there would be fighting in the La Plata River valley.

Despite the known interest of other nations, Spain did little to invest in defense. As there were many problems elsewhere, and the low expectations of the colony in Madrid, the government in Madrid could do little and did less. The economy was underdeveloped despite the incredible agricultural potential of the area. Manioc, yerba mate, and livestock provided some income to the viceregal government. Shipping, when not cut off by the British Navy also contributed a large amount to the economy. La Plata was all potential and little realization under Spanish rule.

Pre-Revolutionary Situation

The strengthening of the American colonies economically and militarily was vital with the onset of the Napoleonic Wars. As colonies cut off by thousands of miles of ocean, the British were sure to target them, especially the wealthy Caribbean possessions. Spain could not afford to lose New Spain, and therefore used the viceregal military establishment to both keep the colony in line and keep the British out. Peru could not be easily targeted by the British due to its location on the Pacific coast. New Granada and La Plata were too underrated to warrant much investment. Although Spanish troops could not be spared to defend the colonies, officers from Spain could be sent to the Americas to help build and train armies. These men were expected to be loyal to the mother country and as Peninsulares, they would have every personal interest to maintain the colonial status quo.

Although troops could not be pulled out of the colony, money could. The Napoleonic Wars were incredibly expensive and Spain, which did not have the most efficient of administrations even after the Bourbon Reforms, needed every bit of money it could get its hands on. This only further emphasized that the colonies were there for extraction of wealth and little more. With the ideas of the enlightenment penetrating the colonies, the examples of the American and French Revolutions fresh in their minds, and a mother country distracted by the largest series of wars in Europe in 150 years, the people of Spanish America looked at their situation and questioned whether continued loyalty was worth it. All that was required was a spark.

What do you think of the four viceroyalties? Let us know below.

Now, read about Francisco Solano Lopez, the Paraguayan president who brought his country to military catastrophe in the War of the Triple Alliance here.

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AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones
CategoriesBlog Post

As allies, Japan and Nazi Germany collaborated together at times during World War 2. One such time was with the Yanagi missions, a series of fascinating submarine voyages undertaken by Imperial Japan to exchange technology, valuable materials and skills with Nazi Germany. These missions make us think – what might have been accomplished had this seemingly hollow ‘marriage of convenience’ placed greater strategic emphasis on collaboration?

Felix Debieux considers this question.

The Japanese I-8 submarine in 1939. It was to take part in the Yanagi missions in 1943.

What if – an alliance of missed opportunity?

When we talk about history, it is hard not to think about the what-ifs, the what-might-have-beens and the what-could-have-beens. Such counterfactual thinking can be traced back to the very beginning of Western historiography, when Thucydides and Livy wondered how differently their own societies might have turned out, “if the Persians had defeated the Greeks or if Alexander the Great had waged war against Rome”. More recently, an anthology published in 1931 included an essay by Winston Churchill titled, ‘If Lee Had Not Won the Battle of Gettysburg’. It imagined an alternative outcome to the American Civil War in which the Confederacy triumphed over the Union. Having read history to a postgraduate level, my impression of the counterfactual approach was pretty much the same as most professional historians. At best it was a harmless bit of fun, at worst it was dodgy, unacademic terrain completely unworthy of serious scholarship. In the somewhat less diplomatic words of Marxist Historian E. P. Thompson: “Geschichtswissenschlopff, unhistorical shit”.

Shit it may be, but that has not halted the imagination of authors who have spawned an entire genre of speculative fiction. One example which succeeded in grabbing my attention is Philip K. Dick’s The Man in the High Castle, an alternate history in which Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan overcame the Allies to win the Second World War. Having at last finished watching Amazon’s onscreen adaptation of the story, I was left wondering how the alliance between the two Axis powers functioned in reality. Was it always the antagonistic and frosty partnership portrayed in The Man in the High Castle? You may be surprised to learn, as I was, that despite the vast geographical distances, there are in fact examples of cooperation between the two powers which do not feature prominently in our conventional retelling of the war. One such case is the Yanagi missions, a series of fascinating submarine voyages undertaken by Imperial Japan to exchange technology, valuable materials and skills with Nazi Germany. These missions make us think – what might have been accomplished had this seemingly hollow ‘marriage of convenience’ placed greater strategic emphasis on collaboration? Let’s start by taking a look at the early days of the missions.

Early strategic compatibility

Following Japan’s surprise offensive on Pearl Harbour and Germany’s declaration of war on the United States, the Axis Tripartite Agreement of September 1940 was amended to provide for an exchange of strategic materials and manufactured goods between Germany, Italy and Japan. At the outset, these voyages were made by surface ships and were dubbed Yanagi (Willow) missions by Japan. As the Axis began to lose its foothold in the naval war, submarines naturally came to be seen as a safer transport option.

As early as March 1942, German naval high command – hoping to alleviate pressure on its Kriegsmarine – requested that the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN) launch offensive operations against Allied ships in the Indian Ocean. In April that year, the Japanese agreed to send forces to the east coast of Africa to reinforce their German allies. Shortly afterward, the IJN’s 8th Submarine Squadron was withdrawn from its mission in the Marshall Islands and dispatched to Penang, Malaya.

Commander Shinobu Endo’s I-30 was among the first submarines assigned to the 8th Squadron. On 22nd April, I-30 departed Penang and just a week later assisted in the detachment’s successful attack on British shipping in Diego Suarez, Madagascar. In addition to losing a tanker, the British HMS Ramillies was heavily damaged. Following the skirmish, I-30 set off from Madagascar and was ordered on the very first submarine Yanagi mission.

The first submarine Yanagi mission

On 2nd August, four months after it had departed Penang, Endo’s I-30 entered the Bay of Biscay. Off the coast of Cape Ortegal, Spain, he was met by eight Luftwaffe bombers that provided air cover. Three days later, he was joined by a flotilla of minesweepers and escorted to Lorient — then the largest of five German U-boat bases on the French coast.

This was a historic achievement. Indeed, I-30 was the very first Japanese submarine to arrive in Europe. To mark the occasion, Grand Admiral Erich Raeder, head of the Kriegsmarine; Admiral Karl Dönitz, commander of the U-boat force; and Captain Tadao Yokoi, Japanese naval attaché to Berlin, waited to greet Endo and the crew of I-30. Music greeted them at the Lorient station and Endo was presented with a bouquet of flowers. Meanwhile, the Japanese cargo was unloaded:

  • 3,300 pounds of mica.

  • 1,452 pounds of shellac.

  • Engineering drawings of the Japanese Type 91 aerial torpedo.

The Germans were also keen to offer the Japanese their technological expertise. For example, the Kriegsmarine examined I-30 and concluded that its noise levels were unreasonably high - high enough to be detected by enemy ships or aircraft. The Germans generously fitted I-30 with some improvements, notably a Metox Biscay Cross passive radar detector and new anti-aircraft guns. Footage was also shot during I-30’s floatplane test flights, and stories were released detailing a Japanese naval air corps operating from French bases.

While all of this was going on, Endo travelled to Berlin where Hitler presented him with the Iron Cross. The visit came to an end on 22nd August, when I-30 slipped out of the sub pen and began its journey home. Its cargo included a complete Würzburg air defence ground radar with blueprints and examples of German torpedoes, bombs and fire control systems. Most valuable of all to the mission, the submarine also carried industrial diamonds valued at one million yen and fifty top-secret Enigma coding machines.

A month later, I-30 rounded the Cape of Good Hope and entered the Indian Ocean. Early on the morning of 8th October, the sub arrived back at Penang. Rear Admiral Zenshiro Hoshina, chief of the IJN’s logistics section, waited patiently to receive ten of Endo’s Enigmas. Two days later, I-30 slipped its moorings yet again and headed south for Singapore.

The following morning, I-30 made its way into the port. Indicative of the importance of the mission was the presence of Vice Admiral Denshichi Okawachi of the First Southern Expeditionary Fleet, who was on hand to greet Endo and his senior officers. Understandably desperate to return home after thousands of miles of submarine travel, that very afternoon Endo set sail for Japan. It was perhaps the height of bad luck when, just an agonising three miles from its final destination, that I-30 struck a mine. While the submarine was lost, miraculously Endo and the majority of his crew were rescued. Divers were immediately dispatched to recover I-30‘s cargo, but they found that the Würzburg radar had been destroyed in the explosion and its technical drawings rendered useless by saltwater. In addition, the remaining Enigma machines were lost, an embarrassment that was hidden from the Germans for four months.

Despite the somewhat ignominious conclusion of the mission, officials on both sides of the alliance were clearly excited by what had been learned and the potential of future exchanges. But with so many surface ships sunk by the Allies, how could the mission be scaled up? The Germans had the answer. On 31st March 1943, the Japanese ambassador to Germany, Hiroshi Oshima, cabled Tokyo a recommendation from their allies that large, older U-boats should be converted to carry war materials between Europe and the Far East. Unfortunately for Japan, Oshima’s cable was decoded by the Allies.

The missions continue

On 1st June 1943, I-8 departed Kure, Japan, with I-10 and submarine tender Hie Maru. Commander Shinji Uchino had just been given his orders to proceed to Lorient. Their cargo:

  • Two Type 95 oxygen-propelled torpedoes.

  • Technical drawings of an automatic trim system.

  • A new naval reconnaissance plane.

Nine days later, the mission arrived in Singapore and added to their cargo quinine, tin and raw rubber. On 21st July, nearly two months after departing Japan, I-8 crossed into the Atlantic. The only greeting to welcome the crew this time were terrible storms that pounded the submarine for ten days.

Eventually, the by now very weary Japanese crew received their first contact from the Germans. A sign of the Axis’s changing naval fortunes, a German radio signal alerted I-8 to air patrols searching from the skies above. These patrols forced a change of plan, and - after waiting for five days - I-8 received a second message from their allies: forget Lorient, make for Brest.

Once they crossed the equator, it was not until 20th August that the Japanese rendezvoused with Captain Albrecht Achilles and his U-161 submarine. The next day, I-8 took aboard a German Lieutenant and two radiomen. As with the previous submarine mission, the Germans were keen to make improvements and wasted no time installing a more sophisticated radar detector on I-8’s bridge. Eleven days later, the Japanese finally arrived at Brest – a whole three months after their initial departure from Kure. A German news agency announced that even the Japanese were now operating in the Atlantic!

More bountiful than I-8’s outbound shipment was the cargo it departed from Brest with on 5th October 1943. Indeed, the submarine set sail with:

  • Machine guns.

  • Bombsights.

  • A Daimler-Benz torpedo boat engine.

  • Naval chronometers.

  • Radars.

  • Sonar equipment.

  • Electric torpedoes.

  • Penicillin.

This time, the Yanagi mission included not just technological but also human resources. Welcomed aboard I-8 were Rear Admiral Yokoi and Captain Sukeyoshi Hosoya, naval attaché to Berlin and to France respectively. Also aboard were three German naval officers, an army officer and four radar and hydrophone technicians. We can only wonder how the dynamics of the Japanese crew were affected by the arrival of their German comrades.

It did not take too long for I-8 to run into trouble. After crossing back over the equator, a position report was transmitted to the Germans but – unfortunately for the mission – the report was intercepted by the Allies. The very next day I-8 was targeted by antisubmarine aircraft, but it succeeded in pulling off a crash-dive escape.

By 13th November 1943, I-8 passed Cape Town. That same day, I-34 – which was travelling to France on a Yanagi mission of its own – earned the unfortunate distinction of being the first IJN submarine sunk by the British. This served as a powerful reminder of the danger posed to the Yanagi missions, and so I-8 was ordered to head straight for Singapore where it arrived on 5th December.

At Singapore, I-8 anchored near to Commander Takakazu Kinashi’s I-29. I-29 had just arrived from Japan and was about to embark on its own long journey. During an encounter between the two submarine commanders, Uchino warned Kinashi of the Allied air patrols and praised the German Metox radar detector that he had received from U-161 back in August. The technological benefits of the Yanagi missions had already started to prove themselves. On 21st December 1943, I-8 arrived back in Japan having finally completed its 30,000 mile, seven-month long journey. Uchino travelled to Tokyo and presented his report to Admiral Osami Nagano, chief of the naval general staff, and navy minister Admiral Shigetaro Shimada.

Experienced hands

Although Commander Takakazu Kinashi was a distinguished submarine captain, he had not yet had the opportunity to participate in any previous Yanagi missions. Earlier in the war he had become Japan’s submarine hero, credited with the sinking of U.S. Navy carrier Wasp in September 1942, and with damaging the battleship North Carolina and the destroyer O’Brien, which eventually sank. His assignment to the Yanagi missions again underscores their strategic importance (at least to the Japanese).

On 5th April 1943, I-29 left Penang carrying an eleven-ton cargo. This consisted of:

  • One Type 89 torpedo.

  • Two Type 2 aerial torpedoes.

  • Two tons of gold bars for the Japanese embassy in Berlin.

  • Schematics of a Type A midget submarine and of carrier Akagi, which the Germans wanted to study as they constructed their own carrier Graf Zeppelin.

Twenty days later, I-29 arrived at a predesignated point 450 miles off the coast of Madagascar where it met Captain Werner Musenberg and U-180. The German sub had left Kiel on 9th February carrying blueprints for a Type IXC/40 U-boat, a sample of a German hollow charge, a quinine sample for future Japanese shipments, gun barrels and ammunition, three cases of sonar decoys, and documents and mail for the German embassy in Tokyo. Of strategic significance to the war in Asia, the U-boat also carried an important passenger: former Oxford University student Subhas Chandra Bose, the head of the anti-British Indian National Army of Liberation. The two submarines met on 26th April.

The next day, Bose and his group transferred from U-180 to I-29 and two Japanese officers switched in the other direction. The eleven tons of cargo followed shortly after. Once the exchanges were completed, I-29 turned eastward and U-180 turned back towards France. This experience was valuable to Kinashi when he, himself, finally set off for France in December 1943. In addition to his crew, he carried rubber, tungsten, tin, zinc, quinine, opium and coffee. He also had sixteen IJN officers, specialists and engineers on board. By 8th January 1944, the submarine had left Madagascar.

In early February, Kinashi received a signal from Germany to rendezvous with a U-boat that would upgrade I-29 with superior radar technology. On the 12th, he met U-518 southwest of the Azores. The Japanese submarine took aboard three technicians who installed a new FuMB 7 Naxos detector. Kinashi did not have to wait long to put his new equipment into action. While running along the surface off Cape Finisterre, Spain an RAF patrol plane equipped with a searchlight suddenly illuminated the water around I-29. Reacting with the decisiveness and speed gained through long experience, Kinashi crash-dived the submarine and escaped unscathed. Five days later, I-29 entered the Bay of Biscay, but Kinashi had arrived ahead of his escort and had to spend the night at the bottom of the sea. The next day, German forces escorted the Japanese submarine toward Lorient. Unbeknownst to Kinashi, however, he and his crew were not safe yet.

I-29’s schedule had been earlier decoded by the Allies. British aircraft were dispatched with the aim of sinking the submarine and its German escorts. They found the Yanagi mission off Cape Peas, Spain, but did not succeed in damaging I-29. Later that same day, the submarine and its escorts were attacked by more than ten Allied aircraft but, fortunately for Kinashi and his crew, all the bombs missed.

Cross-cultural encounters and Axis potential

After the two near misses, I-29 arrived at Lorient on 11th March and anchored safely next to Lieutenant Commander Max Wintermeyer’s U-190. Lorient was home to two U-boat flotillas, and the large number of veteran submariners set the scene for some lively cross-cultural encounters. On one occasion, German officers entertained the Japanese crew at a nearby bar. The bar’s rafters were inscribed with signatures of U-boat officers. Eager to get in on the act, I-29‘s Lieutenant Hiroshi Taguchi, Lieutenant Hideo Otani and several other officers added their own signatures to the rafters. After a 30,000 mile trip it must have felt good to make it to dry land and leave a mark of success!

The Japanese were treated to further German hospitality. Indeed, the entire crew were hosted at Château de Trévarez before a special train carried them onto Paris. While his crew enjoyed the sights, Kinashi travelled to Berlin and was decorated with the Iron Cross by the Führer himself. Ever the diligent workers, their German hosts busied themselves with the upgrades to I-29’s outdated anti-aircraft guns. They also loaded aboard:

  • A HWK 509A-1 rocket motor.

  • A Jumo 004B axial-flow turbojet.

  • Drawings of the Isotta-Fraschini torpedo boat engine.

  • Blueprints for jetfighters and rocket launch accelerators.

  • Plans for glider bomb and radar equipment.

  • A V-1 buzz bomb fuselage.

  • Acoustic mines.

  • Bauxite ore.

  • Mercury-radium amalgam.

  • Twenty more Enigma coding machines.

Hinting at the more frightening potential of greater Axis strategic collaboration, there is some evidence suggesting that I-29 carried a quantity of U-235 uranium oxide, one of the components needed to assemble an atomic bomb. Loaded with its vital military cargo, I-29 departed Lorient on 16th April.

On 14th July, I-29 passed through the Straits of Malacca and arrived at Singapore. Its passengers disembarked with their sensitive documents and proceeded by air to Japan. Most of the military cargo, however, remained aboard. Initially worried about the sub’s location, Allied code-breakers breathed a collective sigh of relief when they learned of I-29’s arrival in Singapore. Relief, however, quickly turned to alarm when an intercepted message between Berlin and Tokyo revealed the true value of the submarine’s cargo. Now alert to the terrifying potential of I-29’s mission, the Allies worked tirelessly to stop the submarine from reaching Japan.

The Allies were lucky when, on 20th July, Kinashi transmitted his proposed route for the last leg of the trip. The U.S. Navy deciphered the message, and the sub was sunk by torpedoes launched from the USS Sawfish. While the loss of the aircraft engines slowed the Japanese jet program, their blueprints, flown to Tokyo, arrived safely. They were used immediately to develop the Nakajima Kikka (orange blossom) and the Mitsubishi J8MI Shusui (sword stroke) – both based on German designs.

The sinking of I-52

Japan’s hope for further technological marvels now rested on Commander Kameo Uno and I-52, which had left Kure on 10th March 1944 (while I-29 was busy dodging Allied attacks near Brest). In its hold, Uno’s submarine carried strategic metals including molybdenum, tungsten, 146 bars of gold, as well as opium and caffeine. I-52 also carried fourteen passengers including engineers and technicians with ambitions of studying German weaponry. To avoid Allied spotter planes, Uno travelled submerged during the day and only surfaced at night.

After passing the Cape of Good Hope and entering the South Atlantic, on 15th May Uno sent his first message to Germany. By this time the British and Americans had broken the military codes of both Axis powers. Allied intelligence intercepted and deciphered Uno’s reports to Tokyo and Berlin, including his daily noon position reports. When I-52 entered the South Atlantic, the code-breakers quickly relayed its predicted route to a U.S. antisubmarine task force.

On 16th June, I-52 sent a coded transmission, giving its position away off the West African coast. The U.S carrier Bogue, equipped with fourteen aircraft, was ordered to track and destroy the sub. After arriving in the area where the Japanese were supposed to meet a German U-boat, the Americans began around-the-clock efforts to search for the Axis submarines. Although the skies were filled with American aircraft, Uno somehow managed to rendezvoused with Kurt Lange’s U-530 about 850 miles west of the Cape Verde Islands.

The Japanese commander welcomed a Lieutenant Schäfer on board to help navigate the last leg of his journey. Schäfer was accompanied by two petty officers who carried with them an improved radar. Bizarrely, the equipment fell into the sea during the exchange, but a dutiful Japanese crewman jumped in and managed to retrieve it. About two hours after meeting I-52, U-530 submerged and headed for Trinidad, leaving the three German officers aboard the Japanese sub. Again, we can only wonder how the two crews interacted with one another.

The day after his rendezvous with U-530, Uno, confident that he could take advantage of a stormy and moonless night to cloak his location, travelled along the surface in order to reach sooner the sanctuary of a German-occupied port. That evening, Allied forces picked up I-52 on their radar. Flares illuminated the area around the submarine and two 354-pound bombs were dropped, just missing I-52’s starboard side. Although Uno crash-dived and avoided the attack, his location was now compromised.

This game of submarine whack-a-mole could not go on forever. Sonobuoys, which detect underwater sounds, were deployed across a square mile of ocean. These were followed up with homing torpedoes which locked onto I-52’s propeller noises. After a long wait, the Allies heard a loud explosion. Another sonobuoy-torpedo combination later and the Allies got their desired outcome; a large oil slick at the site of the attack was spotted. Nearby, a ton of raw rubber bales bobbed along the surface of the water.

Meanwhile at Lorient, a German ship stood by ready to escort I-52, and diplomats scheduled to return to Japan waited anxiously for their ride home. With them at the dock were tons of secret documents, drawings and strategic cargo, which included acoustic torpedoes, fighter plane engines, radars, vacuum tubes, ball bearings, bombsights, chemicals, alloy steel, optical glass and one-thousand pounds of uranium oxide. The Germans also intended to improve I-52 with a snorkel. By 30th August, the Kriegsmarine finally presumed I-52 sunk.

The end of the Yanagi missions – a strategic oversight?

The question must be asked, why did the Yanagi missions stop? What happening to the initial excitement for military, scientific and strategic cooperation? The answer is a fairly simple one.

With the Americans closing in on the Home Islands and the final showdown of the Pacific war rapidly approaching, the IJN was compelled to devote every available resource to the defence of the Japanese mainland. After the failure of I-52‘s mission, it was no longer practical to send limited submarines on long, perilous journeys to Europe.

Reflecting back, what should we take away from the Yanagi missions? Although the missions are not remembered as much more than peculiar footnotes in the larger story of the Second World War, the threat of an exchange of nuclear materials and state-of-the-art technology was no doubt deemed important by the Allies – important enough for them to invest precious resources in locating, tracking and sinking the submarines before they could make their deliveries. The missions are scarcely known today, but at the time the threat they posed was clear.

The true importance of the Yanagi missions, however, lies in what I believe they represent. While we tend to think of their partnership as an uneasy ‘alliance of convenience’, the missions help us to imagine what Japan and Germany might have been able to achieve had they placed greater emphasis on joined-up, strategic coordination. Indeed, they represent a failure by the two Axis powers to think of the war beyond their own local, expansionist ambitions. Given the nuclear potential of the missions, we are perhaps fortunate that the Axis did not develop their partnership much beyond these largely overlooked submarine convoys.

What do you think of the Yanagi missions? Let us know below.

Now read Felix’s article on how Henry Ford tried to end World War One through diplomacy here.

In the early twentieth century, an age before cinema, audiences still wanted thrills. And following the Russo-Japanese War, there were a number of explosive re-enactments in America and the broader English-speaking world of that war. Doctor Robert Brown explains.

A drawing of a Japanese attack during the Battle of Mukden in the Russo-Japanese War.

In a 10 May 2022 article for the Guardian newspaper, ‘I almost got hit’ Ukrainian journalists recounted their stories of how the Russia-Ukraine war turned their personal and professional lives upside-down. Before the war, many such as Kristina Berdynskykh were civilian writers and reporters.  However as the invasion began, these journalists found themselves on the front line of the biggest story in the world, and ‘they became war correspondents overnight’.  They have done heroic and life threatening work, for which the Pulitzer prize board has already awarded them with a special citation.

One night in September 1905 a plucky local reporter for the Minneapolis Journal also took on the role of a war correspondent overnight. He bore witness to the most important siege of the Russo-Japanese war (1904-5), the bombardment of Russian held Port Arthur (Dalian) after a Japanese surprise attack.  Furnished with a long army overcoat and cap, he was instructed to make his way up the Port Arthur battlefront.

After years of bitter contention between the Empires of Russia and Japan over control of the Liaodong Peninsula, Manchuria, Russia occupied the Peninsula and constructed Port Arthur naval base in 1897.  This proved intolerable for Japan, and on 8-9 February 1904 they finally struck, as Admiral Togo launched a surprise attack on the Russian fleet anchored there. The engagement and ensuing siege quickly gained international status as a gruelling cauldron of modern battle.  The spectacle of large naval battles and massive artillery duels became a focal point for media attention, commemoration, and later theatrical re-enactment.(1)

Japanese victory in the Battle of 203 metre hill, overlooking the city harbour, proved a turning point.  From here artillery spotters directed a devastatingly accurate bombardment of the bottled up Russian fleet.  Russia’s Pacific fleet was destroyed or interned, while the Japanese Army systematically mined and captured key Russian forts.  The situation hopeless, Port Arthur finally surrendered.

Such was the hellish ferocity of the bombardment the reporter witnessed that night, that even after escaping unscathed, he, ‘dreamed all night of crashing shot and bursting shell, of sinking warships and whole cities in flames.’ The horror of such a spectacle stayed with him, and even a ‘pencil falling on the floor…and the slamming of a door’ would send him into a post-traumatic ‘hysteria’ of palpitations.(2)

A Carnival of Fire

However something was amiss.  The buildings and warships were somehow made of canvas and wood rather than steel and stone, and the heavy ordnance, was a mixture of dynamite and nitro-glycerine. Those discharging explosives were not Russo-Japanese artillerymen and naval gunners, but some thirty pyro-technists co-ordinated by director Emil Capretz. Finally this was not at Dalian, but located deep in the heart of the American Mid-West at the Minneapolis State Fair in September 1905.  Russia had surrendered Port Arthur in January 1905, and six months later the spectacle of the carnage was being eulogised to baying crowds.

In fact this was ‘Pain’s Port Arthur’, a centrepiece production of James Pain junior and his son Henry J. Pain. The Pain’s Port Arthur spectacles were specifically ‘modelled’ or ‘al fresco’ painted canvas panoramas simulating the Manchurian battle zone, set up outdoors in large pleasure gardens, sports fields or exhibition grounds.  These outdoor panoramas were modelled much like a movie set with large props of wood and plaster, and offered the historical-narrative backdrop against which the massive fireworks displays took place for a viewing public.(3)

The Empire of Pain

The Pain’s in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century oversaw a sprawling continent spanning fireworks empire, the Royal Alexandra Palace Fireworks Company (shortened to Alexandra Palace Fireworks Company in the United States). Their American base of production was at the Greenfield, L. I. fireworks factory, New York. In addition to using their own 10,000 seat purpose built arena at Manhattan Beach, from 1904-6 the show visited Nashville, Chattanooga, St. Louis, Detroit, and Buffalo (New York).(4) On top of this, in addition to re-enactments in London and Manchester, UK, James Pain Junior presided over an ambitious tour of the ‘Port Arthur’ spectacle throughout Australia and New Zealand, stopping off at all the state capitals of Australia in addition to smaller venues.  In 1904-5 director Mr. T. Gaunt, operating under the Pain franchise, was still touring this war spectacle around New Zealand to enthusiastic audiences, warm reviews, and aggressive newspaper advertising.

Before 1904 the Pain Company already had a fine tradition for battles and sieges.  Although biblical themed glories and disasters such as Last Days of Pompeii were roaringly popular, Manhattan Beach audiences were fed a rich diet of nineteenth and twentieth century conflicts, and particularly sieges.  The Siege of Vicksburg in the American Civil War, the Siege of Sebastopol in the Crimean War, and even the burning of Moscow by Napoleon in 1812 among others proved consistently popular. The American bombardment of Tripoli against the Barbary Pirates was specifically more popular with American audiences.(5)

This activity points to a massive public appetite for simulated mock warfare in the pre-cinema era.  To historian’s frustration, the ephemerality of these spectacles obscures their importance in the historical record.  Firework panoramas and scenery were designed to be destroyed or thrown away.  Poor record keeping in the Victorian and Edwardian entertainment business means that often all that survives are the newspaper advertisements and the odd precious event program.

Madison Square Carnage

For all the decades of frenzied advertising and glowing reviews across the English speaking world, in reality Pain’s as a global fireworks empire had been living on borrowed time. At around 10pm on the night of the 4 November 1902, at the celebrations of the election of William Randolph Hearst as New York congressman, a gigantic fireworks explosion had ripped through Madison Square, and decimated a nearby crowd of people watching Pain’s performance.  An inquest was immediately set up, and ten of Pain’s employees were arrested.(6)

The ‘Madison Square Disaster’ killed fifteen and injured over a hundred, and left a trail of carnage, with blood and pieces of flesh littering the ground for a two block radius.(7)  The investigation initially blamed Mayor Low and the Board of Aldermen for approving an ordinance on 25 October, to allow the display of fireworks within the city of New York until the 10 November.(8) However three parties were claimed to be liable.  Hearst himself had through his agent arranged the firework display, and the Pain Fireworks Company employees had set off the explosion. In the end the City of New York, according to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, had to pay out over half a million dollars in damages.(9) In August 1904, again one of Pain’s workers died in an explosion in the combustible chemicals mixing shed at the Manhattan Beach grounds.(10)

After the disaster Henry Pain was showered with lawsuits.  The technical deadline to compensate the dead and injured was 1911, but by that point Henry’s assets had been devalued by the accident, and he had insufficient funds. Leaving the United States to avoid arrest he sold the company to Central Fireworks who had previously been a partner.  A holding company with several other firework manufacturers under their wing, they eventually sold Pain’s America to the Unexcelled Firework Company. Pain’s pyrotechnics largely came to a halt when the First World War was declared in 1914.(11) The Company does continue to operate to the present day as Pain’s Fireworks, based in Salisbury, England.

Conclusion

Much as with the Russia-Ukraine war, the Russo-Japanese war elicited a flurry of sympathisers, sceptics and charlatans across the western world and other bystander nations interpreting and tracking the conflict for their own commercial or geopolitical ends.  Commercial interests in particular drove the Russo-Japanese war to loom large in the Western imagination. Edwardians were raised on a diet of escalating great power rivalry exacerbated by the British Harmsworth newspaper company’s campaign to propagate Germanophobia among the British public. Hysterical future war fiction such as William Le Queux’s million-copy selling The Invasion of 1910 (1906) imagined a German attack on London and H.G Wells’ The War in the Air (1908) explored frightening new weapons technologies. In this cultural atmosphere the spectacle of all out mechanised war in Manchuria shifted tickets and memorabilia like nothing except the major cricket or football fixtures. The war was narrated and even objectified by creative and savvy entrepreneurs throughout the English speaking world even as the conflict was progressing.

Through the Pain family’s bombastic firework re-enactments of the siege of Port Arthur, the article explored a snapshot of pre-cinema culture which sought to provide audiences with unsubtle yet fascinating simulacrum and mock warfare. In 2022, Japan supported Ukraine and joined in imposing sanctions on Russia. Entangled with the ongoing Russo-Japanese dispute over possession of the Kuril Islands, tensions have been turned up into downright antagonism once again. A Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs official, Hideki Uyama, even compared Russia’s invasion of Ukraine to the occupation of the islands. At the very least then diplomatic fireworks between the two powers are back on the playbill.

What do you think of the pyrotechnic re-enactments? Let us know below.

Now read Robert’s article on the Liverpool City Council investigation of the Chinese community here.

References

1 R.M Connaughton, p.115

2 The Minneapolis Journal (Minneapolis, Minnesota) · Fri, Sep 8, 1905 · Page 20

3 Mimi Colligan, Canvas Documentaries, p.142

4 The Chattanooga News (Tennessee) 16 May, 1905, St. Louis Globe-Democrat (Missouri) 3 November, 1904, The Yale Expositor (Michigan), 1 September, 1905, Nashville Banner (Tennessee) 22 May, 1905, Buffalo Morning Express and Illustrated Buffalo Express (New York) 11 July, 1905

5 Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 28 August 1904

6 The Brooklyn Daily, 5 November 1902

7 The Brooklyn Daily, 5 November 1902

8 Ibid

9 The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 2 December 1902

10 The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 24 August, 1904

11 Ralph Hyde, Dictionary of Panoramists of the English-Speaking World (2015, unpublished, but donated to the The Bill Douglas Cinema Museum)

There are many sites where you can see the darker side of human history in Europe. Here, Jennifer Dawson considers some such sites - and why it is important for them to detail terrible events sensitively.

Grbavica, a neighbourhood in Sarajevo, in March 1996.

Through organizations like the EU, Europe has managed to keep conflicts to an absolute minimum since the end of World oWar 2. However, life wasn’t always as pleasant. Both world wars created unprecedented levels of fatalities, and the entire history of the continent, spanning back as far as written history exists, is one of almost non-stop conflict. As a result, there is a huge amount of dark history to be experienced in Europe, and due to the desire and ability of many nations to preserve and present that history, it can be explored in an ethical and in-depth manner.

Auschwitz, Poland

World War 2 is the bloodiest conflict in history. Not only did many individuals lose their lives in military fighting, but the total war nature of the conflict meant that tens of millions of civilians died, too. Many of these civilians were murdered in genocides and other ideological killings. The relative recency of the conflict has made it relatively straightforward to preserve historical sites, and that makes it easier to explore them via tourism. Furthermore, whereas some dark tourism - where places of historic relevance are explored through tourism - can be unethical, many of the most important WW2 monuments have been maintained sensitively. A notable example of this is at the Auschwitz concentration camp memorial, near Oświęcim, Poland. Tourists are provided with a guided tour of the entire work camp, Auschwitz, and Birkenau. It is a shocking but educational experience.

Siege of Sarajevo

Sarajevo is a city that has seen a long history of conflict, yet has endured to become one of the most beautiful places in Europe. Arguably the place where east-meets-west, it’s a melting pot of Islam, Christianity, and many ethnicities and nationalities. It was also the namesake of the Siege of Sarajevo, which at 1,425 days, was one of the longest modern sieges. According to a study published on Taylor & Francis Online, the battle sites and memories of the war, and the dark period it encompassed that involved ethnic cleansing, have been sensitively maintained to provide a thought-provoking experience.

Pripyat, Ukraine

No conversation on dark tourism can be complete without a nod to Pripyat - not least because there still remains some level of danger. Pripyat is the town attached to the Chernobyl nuclear power plant, the reactor of which experienced an accident which caused major repercussions within the then USSR and internationally. While Ukraine is currently off-limits due to the ongoing conflict there, in times of peace, Pripyat has a burgeoning tourist industry with rigorous safeguards against the still-radioactive environment there. It’s a place to experience the darker side of human engineering, and a cautionary tale in the current age of rapid, ceaseless innovation.

Experiencing the world through dark tourism is a great way to take an alternative view of the world and its history. It enables you to get in close with history. However, it does need to be accomplished sensitively - but, to date, that’s just what most sites have done.

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AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones
CategoriesBlog Post