The End is Nigh

The war of attrition has come to an end.  20 hours of narration from the book called 'Stalingrad' by Anthony Beevor.  It's an amazingly honest, balanced book; a celebration of anti-war.  This is war that defines the horror of war completely.  Beevor suggests that at the Tehran conference, Churchill and Roosevelt felt they were not able to oppose the suggestions made by Stalin (except for the obviously stupid ones), because of the horror they knew Russia had gone through.  They knew that what the armies faced in the west was like child's play to what the armies in the east had faced.  They had been into the heart of hell.  It was also clear that the Vermark and the Red Army had been exposed to very similar atrocities.  The prison camps in Russia with 200,000 German prisoners were kept in very similar conditions to Auschwitz.  Guards could tell which of the prisoners had been at the dead flesh of their comrades.  They had a pink tinge to their cheeks, as opposed to jaundiced yellow.

Stalingrad Madonna- In charcoal by the theologian and physician Kurt Reuber.  It's
drawn on the back of a Soviet map.  Smuggled out of the 'kessel', it is now on display
in the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church in Berlin. Reuber drew another Madonna whilst a
prisoner in Russia.  He was one of the 84,000 prisoners to die.  Only about 6000 survived,

A useful tip.  If you find yourself unduly irritated by the mass of lice you find swarming over your clothing, remove the offending garments and bury them under a light sprinkling of soil.  Leave one corner sticking out.  The lice, like rats on a sinking ship, will move on mass to this life raft.  As they strung over each other, much a humans do in everyday life, light a match and bring it down onto the heap.  There is a slight risk that you may burn the corner of your garment, but for a week, you will enjoy the luxury of only an occasional odd scratch.

The Germans copied what Nordic people have always known to be practical.  they made roads out of birch logs, which are slow to rot.  These were called corduroy roads.  In Stalingrad, where all trees and wood had been used up, frozen bodies were sometimes found in the road, as impromptu logs.  Horse legs were stuck up at crossroads with signs attached to point the way.
http://www.spiegel.de/einestages/stalingradmadonna-kurt-reuber-und-seine-beruehmte-zeichnung-a-947850.htm

Oslo and the North

I start with an eternal apology to Anna for suggesting the ‘r’ should be removed from Norway.  I have known for a long time that Norway is very special.  I recall our friend Helen Wilson saying she thought Norway was ‘heaven’ when I was about 17 years old.  In my wedding speech I thanked our Norwegian hosts for the wonderful welcome we had received.  I noted how spoilt we were by people’s willingness to use their faultless English to keep us involved.  I reflected that this 'easy life' was likely to short lived because when we meet again in heaven, given my appraisal of our surroundings, we will be speaking Norwegian, what’s more, Norwegian with a northern dialect. 

Leaving Oslo City Hall Behind on the way to the Museums

Margaret in Oslo Habour

Oslo.  We got out of the R10 train to Drammen.  The announcer informed us the city is called 'Oshlo', not Oslo.  We got out at 'Nationaltheatret'.    This station is extraordinary, and a complete contrast to the other city station, Oslo Central.  It is a vast dark underground chasm of a station, with no advertising hoardings at all.  I liked its barren forgotten quality.  We followed the escalators, with the intriguing parallel funicular lift to one side, right up to the surface.  My map did not indicate where the exit was and we set off overshooting our street.  Mercifully, a kind lady (perfect English at the ready) reassured us that we were not far from our destination.  When we got to the apartment, I read the instructions more clearly, and discovered that the keys were located one km away on the other side of the palace park (a mini St James Park).  We left the girls in a covered doorway- had another chat with another Oslo resident who showed us the route to our keys on her mobile phone, and set off dodging the marching palace guard to our destination.  The keys were handover by a young woman who told us about her quite village upbringing, and how she had moved to the big city 2 years ago to live with her aunt.  She had only visited Vigoland Park and knew nothing else about the city. 

On the evening of day one we walked by the harbour and saw it in it cowering in the light rain. 

In the morning we visited the fort.  This is a national monument with more armed guards.  The view from the battlements was obliterated by a cruise liner moored by the ancient walls.  Within minutes, foreign forces had invaded.  Sheer numbers overwhelmed the guards.  In vain they waved and shouted trying to keep the marauding hoards away from the national treasure.  Shoe on other foot I thought to myself.

We moved on to see the amazing Opera House; perhaps an attempt to compete with Sydney.  Maybe not as striking, but it’s certainly more homely.  Slabs of beautiful white marble slope up to create a delightful angular playground for all.  Anna has played there many times.  From it I saw a curious tent like structure near to a café.  I wondered what it could be, and realised that it might be a nod to the famous cod.  I have seen similar structures covered in drying cod. 

From the Opera House, we examined the City Hall.  Again a very striking and unique building.  The workmanship is impressive, but perhaps it is dated.  Another 1950’s examples that came to mind was Coventry Cathedral. 

A beautiful 1500 year old ship

The Stave Church

Next we crossed on the ferry to the museums at Byggtoy.  A short walk with a parade of tourists took us to the Viking ships Museum.  Three Viking ships dug out on their burial mounts after perhaps 1500 years are beautifully and timelessly displayed.  Two are skilfully repaired to make them look as if they could be launched again today.  The third, the most interesting to archaeologists, is as it was when removed from the mud, with sheep’s wool and tar packed between each clinker.  The building is like a cruciform church, with balconies positioned to help the crush of visitors see into the boats.  I felt I was the only person there.  The graceful boats where help with reverence, like other iconic machines, such as the Supermarine Spitfire, or a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow.  Other objects of interest where the main items packed into the boats, including sleighs, curious objects called rattles and barrels of pickled fish.  We then changed museum and visited the open air folk museum.  Apparently there is a similar museum in Stockholm, where similar ancient wooden houses where taken from each side of the boarder to their respective sites of homage. 

Caving on the doorway

What about a goat for the roof

Dancing (no TV)

Our guides were dressed in tradition costume.  This only exists in Wales and Scotland and has no existence in England.  We saw the Stave Church, a building with a 13^th century core, and restored exterior (1856).  This church felt orthodox.  It looked orthodox.  We entered through a narrow slit of a door into a dark interior.  As we became accustomed to the dark, one could see it was painted from bottom to top in colourful biblical scenes.  I thought of Ethiopia, or Armenia.

It was interesting to see that the general ancient log house seemed to be repeated throughout the villages on the site.  Clay floor- two large built in beds, fireplace in the centre with open central chimney; built in benches.  Barns had a bridge up to the first floor, and this you can see all over Norway. 

Vigeland

We walked round the edge of the Oslo fiord and then headed off for Vigeland Park.  This is an extraordinary park featuring the work of Gustave Vigeland.  He has created hundreds of sculptures of human figures, all ages, mixed in every respect, including sexuality.  All the arrangements depict human relationships and emotions.  They are brilliant.  I thought of Anthony Gormley, and is idea of using himself to depict everything he wants to say.  “You cannot leave your body” – “everything I want to say has to come out of me”.  But here I saw a great understanding of the human condition.  There are even four great statues of figure wrestling and hugging dragons.  I particularly liked the two girls, one in front, confident, one behind timorous, ‘the same girl’ I thought. 

In the evening, the sun was shining.  Oslo water front was transformed and bustling.  Restaurants were packed.  It felt like a different place for the night before.

On Wednesday morning, before our flight to Bardufoss, I managed to fit in a trip to the Historical Museum where I saw hundreds of Viking swords, many bent into ‘s’ shapes.  I also saw the only Viking helmet every found (yes no horns), and the hammer Thor pendants, soon to become crucifixes.  I also saw another amazing interior of a Stave church.

I also visited a beautiful cemetery and saw the famous graves of Edvard Munch, and Henrik Ibsen.

The Wedding

Anna is our priceless treasure,
We love her- she loves us in equal measure.
Her faithfulness and trust is like the never setting sun,
She is always creative, and just wants to have fun.
Anna's life changed, as at the pressing of a button,
When she first visited friends in Brostadbotn.
Everything about this place she began to adore,
After a chance meeting on a fiord, this included Herr Ivan Dalgard.
Now it's Ivan, his boys, and his house, that keeps her from us I fear,
If you want to see Anna, you'll have to come and see her here.

The Wedding Party

Holly, Gabriel and Nathanial.

Ben and Andrew

Picnic at Steinora

My girls in their natural environment.

Now Stalingrad

Switch to the monumental follies of war.  I am stuck that when ruminating on the incompetent leadership in my organisation... it's really not.  Not at all.  I learn about the terrible lemming-like destruction happening in Ukraine and Russia from the Summer of 1941 to the winter of 1042 and think my lot are angels...

Take two evil megalomaniacs and set them against each other.  Stalin did not believe Hitler would attack the Soviet Union.  Many thought that armies massing in the Ukraine were to distract British attention away from an invasion of Britain. Then on the anniversary of the Russian Revolution, the Germans launched their attack.  With a massive preemptive strike, they reduced the Soviet air force by 95%. Their army was well supplied.  Their tanks were fine examples of high precision engineering.  Their soldiers included Romanians and Hungarians who felt less Slavs in their neck of the woods would not be a bad thing.  Even Russians joined the Nazi machine.

The Soviet army was hamstrung.  It wasn't allowed to act independently.  All authorisation came from the top.  Commanders risked being accused of treachery if they questioned Stalin.  They were caught between two enemies.  Thousands of Soviet officers will executed from the orders of Stalin.  The death toll of 20 million Russians is complex.

Two things held up the Germans.  1) the lack of roads.  Mud tracks turned to quagmires.  The German army had to make it's own roads with birch tree trunks.  The second was the tensity of the Russian fighters, who never gave up.  This held up the German advance, slowly, slowly into the Russian winter.  It was the winter that changed the appearance of German soldiers into deaths heads.  The German uniforms were not designed for hash winters.  Hitler did not seem to care that these soldiers were dying needlessly.  May Germans took the clothes off Russian peasants and left them to die.  When the trees were all cut down, they used bodies to make their roadways.  The whole place had turned into hell itself.  When Hitler relented, Germans sent gifts of fur coats to the front.  Soldiers marveled at the smells of luxury in these gifts.  I remembered the vagrant men I worked with London being given Armani suits; smart for a day.

What the Russians had was many, many people.  They also, with time, resupplied their army from factories set far away in the Urals.  They even produced the T34 tank that German Panzars found hard to destroy.  They were also prepared for harsh weather.  History was repeating itself, and Hitler knew it.  This made it worse, he tried so hard not to allow the inevitable to happen, and it did.

As Spring 1942 thawed the German armies, new orders turned the assault towards Stalingrad.  Officers described the journey as riding across a vast ocean, with the Russian step is so vast and endlessly flat. Stalin refused to believe Hitler wasn't come back to have another go at Moscow.  It is thought the move to Stalingrad was to secure vital oil supplies in the Caucuses.  Romania had oil, but it was fast running out.  Some tanks in the East were even adapted to run on wood, with the gases collected from wood fires strapped to the back of tanks and half tracks.

An examination of Volgograd now shows it to be a dull formless place full of characterless tower blocks.  And of course the incredible statue that dwarfs all around it, 'call of the motherland'.

Thoughts on the care of the elderly

I did know that when I let my beloved Vango Force 10 (50 years old- been up the Eiger with Uncle Richard) go with Joanna to her music festival, that it might not survive.  It was used by two boys, who apparently appreciated it, but the zip broke, and they laced the doorway with string.  I also see fresh holes puncturing the sheet.  30 years ago I lovingly mended my tent with canvas, and renewed the rubber pen ties.  I realise that gradually the elderly become more fagile.  And I am reminded that it's essential we patch them up and make them look good, or people will not appreciate their value and new holes will appear.  On the other hand I could throw it away.

Tonight I am looking forward to the European Cup semi-final between The Netherlands and England.  It takes place in the stadium used by FC Twente. Is that 20?  No, it's name comes from the Twente region of the Netherlands, apparently it's antiquated Roman nomenclature.  I read that the are two dialects in the region, that although they are very similar, there are certain phrases that act as a 'Shibboleth' to discern which part of Twente you are from. What's a Shibboleth?  I discover its from Hebrew, The word was chosen to uncover traitors in Ephraim.  Apparently its a word that is very hard to counterfeit.   The word means nothing special- the core of the seed, something like that.  Now it means how you can detect a true believer- like 'the cricket test', or asking  a Serbian about Kosovo. The truth behind a shibboleth is not as significant as the automatic, culturally determined response.

A Shibboleth to the British is that the empire was not that bad.  Also that the British were better than the rest, as if we have a different status of burglary.

I am fascinated by the story in today's Guardian about Tommy Curry, a Philosophy professor at Texas A&M University.  He spoke on private radio channel about the state of Black power after Obama.  He voiced his rage at the deaths of black young people in indiscriminant actions based of deeps fear of race.  I was reminded of Malcolm X's line that passivity does not appear to be winning.  Curry wondered whether black people need to carry guns and be more violence. The article points out that Curry is not a violent man.  He is aware that he does enjoy stirring things up, and getting people uncomfortable.  Indeed, he was awarded his professorship on the bases that this is needed.  The article also discussed the political context of the 2012 film Dejango Unchained, about a black slave who takes revenge on the evils done to his wife by shooting a lot of white people.  Jamie Foxx, the actor spoke of the cathartic pleasure he felt in acting the part.

I am reminded of an interview I read about the first Afghan female police Chief.  She noted how men's behaviours and attitudes to her changed when she started carrying a gun.  This small object changed the power dynamic between them.

Like the inequality of power in Israel/Palestine, where Israel, the victim, picks up little Palestine by the scruff of the neck, and it lashes out, trying to kick Israel's shins,  America, with centuries of inequality, it's own 'Northern Ireland', needs to understand the meaning and dimension of power.

Sadly (or perhaps fortuitously?), Curry's article was found on the internet by a follower of Rod Dreher, a conservative intellectual blogger and commentator with a million followers.  He gave oxygen to this spark, critiquing the violent sentiment in Curry's narrative, and questioned why he should be holding an establishment role in Texas.  The University is now caught in a perfect storm.  Curry is subject to death threats and requires a police escort.  The mad people are always out there.

Violence breads violence-  I do not believe it creates positive change,  but why did Britain move the date for India's independence from June 1948 to 15 August 1947?  Violence has a big part to play in the history if the world.  Cue maxim 57 "With power comes the abuse of power. And where there are bosses, there are crazy bosses. It's nothing new." Judd Rose- American Journalist with the New York Times lived 1955-2000