Showing posts with label British. Show all posts
Showing posts with label British. Show all posts

Saturday, July 27, 2019

©A STEP AT A TIME…GERMANY LOSES THE ATLANTIC IN WORLD WAR II




By Linda Lee Greene, Author & Artist, July 27, 2019



“…In a puffed-up display of military muscle with which the German High Command wanted to lodge terror in the hearts of the nations on its radar, in December, 1939 Columbia Broadcasting System (CBS) journalist William L. Shirer was invited to view the German fleet on the agreement that he would use his radio microphone to tell what he had seen. A sizable contingent of the fleet was then at the River Elbe harbor at Hamburg on Germany’s Atlantic coast, as well as at the Baltic Sea coast harbor at Kiel. In his best-selling book titled BERLIN DIARY, published in 1941, Shirer stated that his tour guide was one angry ‘Oberleutnant X, a typical World War II type of officer, monocle and all.’[1] Through sheets of rain that had reminded Shirer of Liverpool, the officer had led Shirer through foot-deep puddles onto the Hamburg docks to the location of several warships. They had spent copious time going through the ‘Admiral Hipper,’ a new 10,000-ton cruiser. He had been shown the ‘Leipzig,’ a smaller cruiser. Men had been frantically at work on the new 35,000-ton ‘Bismarck.’ It, and its sister ship, had been top secret.

            In the late afternoon of the same day, the rain had turned to snow and the roads to ice as the Oberleutnant and Shirer had sped by car to Kiel. Shirer stated in his journal that he had been surprised to see that almost the entire German fleet had been concentrated at Kiel Harbor, among them the pocket-battleship ‘Deutschland,’ two cruisers of the ‘Cologne’ class, both 26,000-ton battleships, and about fifteen submarines. There had been another three submarines in dry-dock. He had mused to himself that if only the British knew about the mass of German warships there, and with the help of a near full moon, the British could destroy the entire German fleet in one bombing raid on that one night.

            Taking a page from Shirer’s journal, as well as Japan’s playbook at Pearl Harbor of over nineteen months before, in an attack code named ‘Operation Gomorrah’ in late July, 1943, Allied Forces bombed Hamburg’s shipyards, U-boat pens, and oil refineries. The raid included concentrated attacks on civilian and civic infrastructures, which virtually destroyed most of the city. An estimated 35,000 people were killed and 125,000 wounded. There had been no rain in Hamburg for quite some time prior to the attack, and the dry conditions exacerbated the effects of the bombings. ‘Fire and brimstone’ was an apt term for the firestorm that enveloped the city. A vortex and whirling updraft of super-heated air created a 460 meter (1,509 feet) high funnel of fire. There was no escape for the people or the Nazi nation-state. It was the inauguration of Germany’s loss of the Atlantic in World War II.

            In Berlin, Germany’s capital, citizen morale was already low stemming from the air attacks on their city four months before. Confidence in the ‘Luftwaffe,’ Germany’s aerial warfare forces, to protect them was slipping away. Berliners could kid themselves no more. Hitler’s bombast was receiving less play. Hamburg jolted Berliners to the terrible reality that Berlin was the center of the Allies’ bullseye. In an about face, even the therefore uncompromising Hermann Goebbels, the Nazi Reich Minister of Propaganda, admitted in a mood report to the people that the outlook for Berlin was dire. The report listed measures that he urged the people to take, which included the feeble safeguard of digging protective trenches.

            The response in Berlin was chaos. Orders were issued to women, children, elders, and other non-essential citizens to evacuate to places less vulnerable to attack. While over the rest of the summer and into autumn only nuisance strikes occurred, Berliners knew much worse was in store for them. Like rats jumping from a sinking ship, they jammed railroad cars, and purloined any other conveyance they could engage to flee Berlin, including setting out on foot. Bent over with heavy bundles on their backs, they struggled to salvage some vestige of their lives….”



**Author’s Note…the above is an excerpt of Linda Lee Greene’s World War II novel, which will be published in late 2019.



Books by Linda Lee Greene are available at Amazon.com.    



[1] BERLIN DIARY, THE JOURNAL OF A FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT 1934 – 1941, William L. Shirer, TESS PRESS/Imprint of Black Dog & Leventhal Publishers, Inc. in association with A Common Reader, p 213 – 215.

Friday, August 11, 2017

My Talking Heart - Chapter Three: Perils of the Pug Nose by Linda Lee Greene




Pug nose - a short nose; flattened and turned up at the end—or in other words, “short and sweet and cute.” Way way back in my early days of dating, one of my boyfriends dubbed me “No nose.” That is as good a description of my nose as any, I suppose. I also found this nice little ditty about pug noses somewhere online: “Short-nosed people are sensitive and loyal. They’re kind and sympathetic. They tend to be reserved and shy. They’re also hard-working.” Absent from these descriptions is the fact that pug nosed people, like pug nosed dogs, and other pug nosed animals have a devil of a time breathing easily.

A quick look at the genealogy of types of noses reveals that the DNA behind pug noses hails from European influences. This makes sense in my case, because according to Ancestry.com, the largest percentage of my forebears hailed from Ireland, Wales, England and other Western European areas. That explains the preponderance of pug noses in my family, as well as why I am such an ardent Anglophile, I suppose. Inspector Morse and Doc Martin are my kinds of guy, and I would kill to be Vanessa Redgrave. Among several advantages Vanessa has over me that I could list here, but won’t, is that she managed to escape the “Perils of the Pug Nose,” as I call them. Her nose is of the “classic” type. There must be some Greek coursing her British blue-blood veins.

If you are blessed with a nose whose anatomy allows you to breathe effortlessly, you probably aren’t familiar with those breathing strips people stick across the width of their noses at night to aid in breathing. But, to you pug nosed people out there, I ask, “Have you ever tried to remove one of those breathing strips without ripping off at least two layers of skin in the process?” Those dang things hurt like holy hxxx. There are two ways of doing it: pry up one end and then rip the rest of it off in one fell swoop, or work it loose slowly one screaming skin cell by screaming skin cell. The first action results in a quick shriek of agony, the second in a long stream of scorching tears of pain. In either case, you’re left with a nose as red as Rudolph’s.

Years ago, a doctor told me that the turbinates inside my nose are much too large for its external structure. In other words, the casing of my nose is too tight for its contents. A turbinate or turbinal is a long, narrow, and curled shelf of bone that protrudes into the breathing passage of the nose in humans and various animals. I also have a deviated septum, acquired during the birthing process, we presume. The upshot is that these two anatomical anomalies inside my nose narrow the breathing passages to such an extent that I just cannot breathe without resorting to sprays or breathing strips, or whatever other therapies I can find. The problem is really bad at night when the mucous membranes of my nose swell and quite literally cut off my breathing. The result is a kind of sleep apnea that is worsening night by night. That ENT wanted to fix my nose surgically, but I chickened out, and have lived to regret it.

My sister Sherri thinks she has a remedy for me in an essential oil she swears by. She has a whole slew of them she uses for various therapies. The buzz is that they cure everything from toenail fungus to hair loss and beyond. Sherri says they are even helping her to lose weight. She is dropping off a supply for me this evening. I guess I am to rub the oil across the bridge of my nose, forehead, and sides of my neck, and to breathe it in as it forms a mist by way of a defuser. Of course, we are skeptical that an essential oil can straighten a deviated septum or pare down the curly bones inside a nose, but our hope is that it will keep the mucous membranes from swelling, and help in that way. I’m willing to give it a try. Anything is better than going under the knife or having to sleep with one of those breathing masks strapped to my face. Added to that the splint I am forced to wear on my left leg at night sometimes to stretch my injured Achilles tendon, as well as the sleeping mask I don to keep out the glow of a streetlight outside my bedroom window, and you have one hxxx of an alien creature in my bed. Then again, it might be a good deterrent to a night prowler, or an ardent suitor. Oh, the price we pay for a “cute” pug nose!  

 
Author and artist Linda Lee Greene is active on social media. You can find her at the following:
Twitter: @LLGreeneAuthor

Also look for her at LinkedIn and Google+