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Post by mickthecactus on Nov 12, 2018 10:09:38 GMT
On the radio yesterday I heard some interesting commentary about wars, migration, etc. One historian mentioned that population movement after WW1 -- the fall of empires, Greeks moved from the coastal areas of Turkey to Greece, Armenian survivors of the genocide, Alsace-Lorraine, etc. -- makes today's worries about migration look really petty in comparison. 3 million Greeks were moved, solely on the basis of religion. Good old religion again.
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Post by onlyMark on Nov 12, 2018 11:05:13 GMT
One other horror about WWI is imagine surviving Verdun or The Somme and then later on dying because of Spanish flu.
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Post by kerouac2 on Nov 12, 2018 11:17:11 GMT
It may have been a blessing for some of the horribly disfigured and amputated. In the documentary last night, there was the tale of a young father who returned from the war with no face, and it was his son who just kept screaming and screaming because he couldn't bear to see a monster wearing his father's clothes.
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Post by bixaorellana on Nov 12, 2018 18:09:31 GMT
Oh god, that story about the little boy and his disfigured father is almost unbearable. If any of you here watched the tv series Boardwalk Empire, you'll remember the man who was a returned veteran from WWI and who was missing part of his face. The character in the show was American, but I don't know if there was a program to provide veterans with prosthetic masks in the US as there was in Europe. Fascinating article with video: www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/faces-of-war-145799854/One other horror about WWI is imagine surviving Verdun or The Somme and then later on dying because of Spanish flu. Apparently it was pretty easy to die back then. My maternal grandmother's father died in 1917 and I always assumed it ws because of the Spanish flu. But a couple of years ago my mother said that no, he died of "dropsy". Again a reference to a television show: in an episode of Downton Abbey Mrs. Crowley pressures a doctor into using pericardiocentesis on a young farmer who is dying of dropsy.
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Post by bjd on Nov 12, 2018 19:30:14 GMT
Thanks for that. I never knew that dropsy was congestive heart failure.
In fact, it sounds like one of Peter Rabbit's sisters: Flopsy, Mopsy, Dropsy and Cottontail.
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Post by kerouac2 on Nov 12, 2018 19:44:25 GMT
Our pet spaniel Tippy had dropsy when I was little. He ballooned up as though he had 15 puppies inside. The vet drained him the first time but two days later, he was completely bloated again. The next day, he was put to sleep. It was because of heart worms.
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Post by bixaorellana on Nov 12, 2018 20:24:27 GMT
it sounds like one of Peter Rabbit's sisters: Flopsy, Mopsy, Dropsy and Cottontail. *hurriedly looks up "cottontail" in the medical encyclopedia*
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Post by mickthecactus on Nov 12, 2018 20:44:43 GMT
We use the word dropsy a lot in our family because most of us are clumsy and frequently drop/ break things particularly glasses.
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Post by questa on Nov 12, 2018 22:05:08 GMT
We use the word dropsy a lot in our family because most of us are clumsy and frequently drop/ break things particularly glasses. Also heard in the Antipodes.
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Post by Jazz on Nov 12, 2018 22:22:40 GMT
Sorry, but just wondering. About 35 minutes ago, I posted to an old thread of mine about Galipolli__'A Day in Gallipoli, Turkey' My intial post, referring to a powerful anti-war song, 'And the band played Waltzing Matilda', sung by John McDermott, no longer worked, so I posted it again. It doesn't seem to register at all on the home page. Just, many threads down on the Turkey page. Why not? The song is very special. My thread with recent and final post, anyportinastorm.proboards.com/thread/2139/day-gallipoli-turkey
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Post by bixaorellana on Nov 13, 2018 1:07:51 GMT
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Post by onlyMark on Nov 13, 2018 7:37:11 GMT
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Post by questa on Nov 13, 2018 8:16:54 GMT
The song "and the band played Waltzing Matilda" is almost a second National anthem here. Hits you in the gut when you have grown up watching old newsreels showing the young men of the colony embarking on the ships to take them across the world to their deaths. The song was written by Eric Bogle, a Scottish/Australian folk singer.I will post it all, even though it is long,
"And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda" - Eric Bogle
Now when I was a young man, I carried me pack, and I lived the free life of a rover From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback, well, I waltzed my Matilda all over. Then in 1915, my country said son, It's time you stopped rambling, there's work to be done. So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun, and they marched me away to the war.
And the band played Waltzing Matilda, as the ship pulled away from the quay And amidst all the cheers, the flag-waving and tears, we sailed off for Gallipoli And how well I remember that terrible day, how our blood stained the sand and the water And of how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay, we were butchered like lambs at the slaughter. Johnny Turk he was waiting, he'd primed himself well. He shower'd us with bullets, And he rained us with shell. And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell Nearly blew us right back to Australia.
But the band played Waltzing Matilda, when we stopped to bury our slain. We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs, then we started all over again. And those that were left, well we tried to survive, in that mad world of blood, death and fire And for ten weary weeks, I kept myself alive, though around me the corpses piled higher Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head, and when I woke up in my hospital bed, And saw what it had done, well I wished I was dead. Never knew there was worse things than dyin'.
For I'll go no more waltzing Matilda, all around the green bush far and free To hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs-no more waltzing Matilda for me. So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed, and they shipped us back home to Australia. The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane, those proud wounded heroes of Suvla And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay, I looked at the place where me legs used to be. And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me, to grieve, to mourn, and to pity.
But the band played Waltzing Matilda, as they carried us down the gangway. But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared, then they turned all their faces away And so now every April, I sit on me porch, and I watch the parades pass before me. And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march, reviving old dreams of past glories And the old men march slowly, old bones stiff and sore. They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war And the young people ask, what are they marching for? And I ask myself the same question.
But the band plays Waltzing Matilda, and the old men still answer the call, But as year follows year, more old men disappear. Someday no one will march there at all. Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda, who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me? And their ghosts may be heard as they march by that billabong, who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
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Post by mossie on Nov 13, 2018 9:13:25 GMT
Very sobering Questa. Unfortunately the world never learns and our young men will still face similar dangers. Greed and pride rule.
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Post by Jazz on Nov 15, 2018 2:32:50 GMT
Bixa, I have never heard this. Stunning.
Questa, thank you so much for posting the words to 'And the Band Played Waltzing Mathilde'. What a yawning cultural gap. I never understood that the song was the 'second national anthem of Australia'. No one I know (in Canada) had ever heard it before. Nor had I...just stumbled upon it one day and was moved, forever.
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Post by bixaorellana on Nov 15, 2018 2:37:03 GMT
Questa, I just read the lyrics to Waltzing Matilda all they way through and am now in tears. Thanks -- I guess.
Jazz, I came across that clip by accident. It makes you want to scream back through the decades, "Stop stop stop what are you doing? Stop!" And then birdsong.
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Post by questa on Nov 15, 2018 10:21:00 GMT
Oz has the official anthem called "Advance Australia Fair" which is a modernised version of a jingoistic poem from colonial days.It is treated with derision by most, both words and music are a joke and people are proud they don't know the second verse.
Waltzing Matilda is the song that pulls the heart strings. It has a variety of lyrics and melodies but they all tell the story of a homeless man wandering the bush, steals a sheep for food, gets caught by owner and police and drowns himself rather than go to prison. Based on a true story from 1890s. Strange that such a story should bind Ozzies together, no matter where they came from.
So, when the troops set off to war, from Boer to Afghanistan, the bands would play this song. Eric Bogle tells us that playing the peoples' song does not hide the futility of war.
You really need to hear him sing it with his gentle Scots/Ozzie accent.
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Post by patricklondon on Nov 15, 2018 10:51:39 GMT
Over the last year, France 2 had shown a gripping documentary about the Great War in several episodes. I am not a big fan of colorized black and white films, but they chose to do it so that people would be more interested in watching, and I completely approve when it is for a good cause. But they also added sound effects -- crowd noises, horses' hooves, artillery, drums, music, explosions... And that makes it totally contemporary and so much easier to comprehend. Decades ago there was a TV series in Britain on the Great War (long enough ago for there to be plenty of people to be interviewed who had been through it all). Last Sunday, the BBC showed a new film, focussing on the soldiers' experience, from recruitment to training, to the minutiae of daily life in both the front line and the rest areas, and then the experience of combat and finally the anti-climax of the Armistice announcement and the difficulties of return to "normal" life at home. What was remarkable about it was that much of the film clips had not only been colourised, but also the graininess and jerkiness had been removed by electronic wizardry, some of the things the people in the clips were saying had been lip-read and put into a sound track, along with voiceovers from the Imperial War Museum's archives of former soldiers talking about their experiences. It spared us nothing of the horrors, and the treatment of the film clips was streets ahead of "first-generation" colourisation. They really looked as though they had been taken on one of today's video cameras, only recently: My blog | My photos | My video clips | My Librivox recordings"too literate to be spam"
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Post by bjd on Nov 15, 2018 12:04:36 GMT
I recently read parts of diary by Vera Brittain. It was written between late 1913 and 1916. Interesting how she and her family are gung-ho about the war, then when her fiancé dies in 1915, she talks so much about the futility of it all. She had been accepted to Cambridge university but stopped to be a nurse. There is also a very good book in French written by a French barrel-maker, Louis Barthas, from Aude region (south of Toulouse). He was about 40 and a father when he was drafted. He was in the trenches for several years and his diary mentions the waiting, the marching, life in the trenches. But also the occasional leaves to Paris where life went on as though there was no fighting not all that far away. Extremely well-written, showing life from the perspective of those fighting.
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Post by mickthecactus on Nov 15, 2018 14:54:46 GMT
Just listened to the Eric Bogle version. It is lovely.
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Post by kerouac2 on Nov 15, 2018 15:14:12 GMT
much of the film clips had not only been colourised, but also the graininess and jerkiness had been removed by electronic wizardry, some of the things the people in the clips were saying had been lip-read and put into a sound track, along with voiceovers from the Imperial War Museum's archives of former soldiers talking about their experiences. It spared us nothing of the horrors, and the treatment of the film clips was streets ahead of "first-generation" colourisation Yes, they do absolutely excellent work with the old silent films now.
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Post by cheerypeabrain on Nov 15, 2018 19:26:51 GMT
We watched the PeterJackson WW1 presentation on Sunday evening and felt that the addition of colour seemed to make it have less impact in places. I don't understand why. Macabre yet fascinating. Impressive and uncomfortable at the same time.
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Post by questa on Nov 15, 2018 23:31:11 GMT
Just listened to the Eric Bogle version. It is lovely. I always tear up or lump in throat. I was at a pub concert standing near him when he sang it. He had just an acoustic guitar which he focussed on, not looking at the audience. When he lifted his head, his eyes closed. It was an old soldier singing in his own world. There was a long silence when he finished, then the applause punctuated by surreptitious nose blowing and throat clearing. Another song which is honoured in a similar way is "I was only nineteen"by John Schumann of 'Redgum' which is about the Vietnam/American War. I don't know how to post videos, but it is worth finding it for a listen.
I Was Only 19 (A Walk in the Light Green) Redgum Mum and dad and Danny saw the passing out parade at Puckapunyal It was a long march from cadets The sixth battalion was the next to tour and it was me who drew the card We did Canungra and Shoalwater before we left And Townsville lined the footpaths as we marched down to the quay This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean And there's me in me slouch hat with me SLR and greens God help me I was only nineteen
From Vung Tau riding Chinooks to the dust at Nui Dat I'd been in and out of choppers now for months And we made our tents a home, V.B. and pinups on the lockers And an Asian orange sunset through the scrub And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep? And night time's just a jungle dark and a barking M.16? And what's this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means? God help me I was only nineteen
A four week operation, when each step can mean your last one on two legs It was a war within yourself But you wouldn't let your mates down 'til they had you dusted off So you closed your eyes and thought about somethin' else And then someone yelled out contact, and the bloke behind me swore We hooked in there for hours, then a God almighty roar And Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon God help me He was goin' home in June
And I can still see Frankie, drinkin' tinnies in the Grand Hotel On a thirty-six hour rec. leave in Vung Tau And I can still hear Frankie, lying screaming in the jungle 'Til the morphine came and killed the bloody row And the Anzac legends didn't mention mud and blood and tears And the stories that my father told me never seemed quite real I caught some pieces in my back that I didn't even feel God help me I was only nineteen
And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep? And why the Channel Seven chopper chills me to my feet? And what's this rash that comes and goes Can you tell me what it means? God help me I was only nineteen
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Post by kerouac2 on Dec 29, 2018 6:56:21 GMT
I've mentioned before that Paris was one of the only cities in France that did not have a World War I memorial while even the smallest villages have a statue and a small list of names. Last month on the 100th anniversary of the Armistice, we finally got our monument, listing the 94,415 Parisians who died in combat... or from combat, since quite a few lingered on a little after the war and died later.
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Post by whatagain on Dec 29, 2018 14:57:43 GMT
On another théâtre of war I saw a plaque - small - affixed to a temple in Mandalay that commemorated the taking of the hill during a night action by the Gurkhas. Small plate. I also passed by the commonwealth cemetery in Yangon where about 30000 soldiers are inhumated. Mostly dead in prisoners camps. It was unfortunately closed so I only saw it from the road. Not much commemorates these soldiers here. They already were nicknamed the forgotten army when war was ongoing... Our guide knew the names of Slim and Stillwell though. Messervy Leeds Wingate and others not.
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Post by mossie on Mar 31, 2019 9:13:57 GMT
On a different tack, there was a piece in the Times recently that Mexico were looking for apologies from Spain re the Conquistadores, who colonised Mexico long ago.
Got me to thinking that we should be demanding apologies all round, the Scandinavians for the Vikings and Angles etc.; the Germans for the Saxons and world wars; the Spanish for the Armada; the French for William the Conqueror and Napoleon and countless medieval wars. We of course are utterly blameless, it was all the fault of them others. By the way I forgot the Americans, who stole our Empire and loaded us with crippling debt.
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Post by lagatta on Mar 31, 2019 18:37:32 GMT
I haven't found a Bletchley Park thread after a quick search and was wondering if any anyporters have visited the Park (now a museum)?
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Post by patricklondon on Mar 31, 2019 19:12:42 GMT
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Post by kerouac2 on Aug 25, 2019 4:34:02 GMT
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Post by bixaorellana on Aug 25, 2019 4:50:30 GMT
Pure accident that the German guys are fat and the French military guys skinny?
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