#lestweforget

The sheer stupidity of the self-entitled generation

Incredible that these Trump Derangement Syndrome sufferers think it appropriate to fly the Trump balloon during D-Day commemorations. This millennial numbskull must have no clue of history if she can draw an equivalence of defeating concocted fascism in 2019 vs the 50,000,000 that died as a result of trying to prevent it.

The left is so unhinged. These activists might profess to know more than WWII veterans about facism as it is staring at them in the mirror every morning but what disrespect to suggest their clueless self entitled lives, afforded by the very sacrifices of these brave veterans, could understand what they endured. CM wrote about ‘Staring at the dictator‘ last year.

So much for leading by example.

Perhaps reading some letters from CM’s grandfather who articulated the realities of war from the frontline.

TOBRUK – 1941

We were wakened by the drone of Italian bombers which have a distinctive note and easily recognizable at night…we heard 1/2 dozen explosions & wondered what they would be bombing…about 30 minutes later we got a message to go immediately to the prisoner of war compound as they had been bombed…

…it was a most ghastly sight imaginable. The prisoners without blankets were huddled together for warmth and had lit fires and their own planes had dropped big 500lb bombs…

…there were bits of bodies everywhere, like a slaughterhouse – brains, livers, arms, trunks. I couldn’t describe it. The bombs landed right into the huddled mass of prisoners & blown them to pieces. The doctors and the boys worked like Trojans doing amputations in the field. Arms and legs were put in a stack like a wood heap and to make it worse some desert dogs were having a feast on the remains. On of our blokes was doing an Italian, who had his arm just hanging by a bit of tissue, hacked the arm off with a jack knife. When he returned a bloody dog had the arm in his mouth. And was streaking over the hill when an MP shot it with his revolver. We worked all that day and through the night & done around 300 operations on the spot. Near one bomb crater we shoveled bits and pieces in the hole and covered it in…it is not so much the shrapnel but the concussion that does the damage”

CRETE -1941

”we were in an olive grove with wounded men under every tree before we got word to get going and they gave us hell here, the guns tipped toward the men under the trees and straked is with machine guns. I nearly took a soilly here. I heard a plane roaring down & looking up saw a Messerschmitt 109 diving straight for me. You should have seen me move. I dived for the nearest tree and just got there before he opened up with his machine guns (6 of them, 3 in each wing).  The chatter of them was deafening as he flew as low as 100ft from me, the b———-d…any man on Crete who never prayed was a bloody liar…

…anyway I had the job of getting 300 walking wounded to the beach which was 45 miles away (they told us 7)…what a march keeping our movement secret & taking cover by day and moving only at night…the hours of daylight would drive you crazy…a road was being done over by Junkers 87s and heard Jerries trench mortars landing very close so I said to Kev & Bill “let’s go” daylight or not I was moving. Bill told me he’d had enough and couldn’t stand it any longer then I noticed for the first time he was bomb happy (shell shock) his head was  nodding nineteen to the dozen, eyes staring and hands shaking…

…water was scarce. My mouth like blotting paper and we were in rotten condition until we came across a bombed truck so we drank the radiator water (rust, oil and all). It was like nectar…I never thought hunger was so crook…I couldn’t keep my mind off food, even dreamt of it and of the crusts I’d wasted (Kev admitted the same)

NEW GUINEA – 1942

Meanwhile Private Jenkins was sent through by jeep to act as a guide…however about 50yds from the corner; a sustained burst of MG fire whistled around us which was tragically funny as I looked behind to see the boys moving up the track. After the burst I dived for cover in the tall Kumai grass and when I looked back there wasn’t a man to be seen because when I dived they all dived too. We stayed about 1/4 hour and I decided I couldn’t stay all day so I decided to risk it and make a dash for it…a man every two minutes…without mock heroics my knees were knocking as I got to my feet and darted 200 yards long and expected to get one in the guts at any moment…

…to my sorrow around the corner we came across poor George Jenkins who had been the guide- shot-our first casualty and we’d only been in the place 5 minutes and a sniper had got him. The bullet had plowed through his scalp from ear to eye and his face was a mess. Poor bugger. All he was worrying about was that he wasn’t able to tell us about the snipers and was we alright? I slipped a shell dressing on his skull and carried him back – lucky bugger he’ll go home now…

…this bloody war is a terrible mental strain. You can get shot anywhere with snipers (who never live more than two hours anyway after they’ve climbed the trees) because our boys comb the branches with Brens and they dangle like rabbits from their perch). I’ve lost about 2 stone since I’ve been in action here. It’s tough believe me….

….as we were coming back (it was dark) I am in front treading safely- a stick cracks and we prop, listen and sneak on. When I tripped over a wire stretched across the path I went cold with terror – a booby trap…I flopped to Mother Earth waiting for the explosion – which never materialized. Quickly as possible we moved on fearing a delayed action grenade…the trouble with the front line is that it is so fluid that they are everywhere…

Another letter from New Guinea

Are we giving the Japanese fighting boys a belting!!…yesterday when our 25 pounders started up behind us was it accurate? I’ll say. The Japanese scattered in all directions squealing like girls were blown to shred..they hate our mortars. You can hear them quite plainly in the bush screaming and squealing like animals when our mortars lob on them and as they bunch together like sheep and don’t disperse it’s like shooting clay pigeons…

...I’m not exaggerating when I tell you the fighting is going on at a 20 yard range yet you can’t see them and they can’t see us. A patrol will he on the track and meet a patrol of Japanese suddenly 5 yards away. It’s a case of whose quicker on the draw. Our boys have really got Nippon beat at this game they seem dull witted and before they wake up, our blokes have generally riddled them…

…I’m applying for a recommendation for decoration for two of my blokes – Nicol and Lennar to the OC as they’ve done a marvelous job. Hope they click although honestly every man in the show deserves one

Lest we forget.

Shamebridge University

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It’s amazing how social justice warriors constantly find new things to protest. The victim industry is in full swing. While a lack of access to WiFi or a flat cell phone battery is as big a hardship as these Cambridge University union students have or probably ever will face, they deem Rememberance Day as something that glorifies war, not about respecting the dead and. Those who served with distinction.

It is amazing they have the intelligence to be at university to begin with given the inability to critically think about why the day is absolutely about trying to avoid such tragedy again. Maybe Jeremy Corbyn is right – free education is justified because it is obviously worth nothing if the simplest things have to be made so complex.

Going through the letters of a veteran who served in WW2 Lt Peterson wrote of the honour of the Anzac Day ceremony in Beersheba. In 1940. It was to pay respect to those who bravely served their country not those who were mildly burnt while serving a coffee at Starbucks.

Only last week the University of Manchester’s student union voted to say “applause” is not inclusive and can distress people. Jonathan Pie’s video on the oppression obsession speaks directly to the grievance industry which ends up serving no one.

Honorable lies to defend the freedom we’re prepared to give up

In a world increasingly pushing for safe spaces, trigger warnings and legal remediation for hurt feelings, the ANZAC Memorial at Be’er Sheva makes a mockery of today’s society. Two gentlemen from the First World War make this point clearly. Both lied about their age to defend freedom. They weren’t alone.

The first soldier, H.T. Bell,  lied about his age so he could enlist, despite being only 14. He also lied about his name. He died as a light horseman in the Battle of Be’er Sheva where the ANZACs defeated the Turks by charging their cannons and machine guns. The authorities contacted the Wickhams (his alias) to inform their son he died only to discover they didn’t have one. They eventually tracked down the Bells who thought he’d run away to be a jackaroo. He was only 16.

Lt.Col L.C. Maygar VC was 48 at the time of the battle. Having won a Victoria Cross, the Empire’s highest order of valor, during the Boer War he was too old to serve in WW1. So he chopped his age by 6 years to make the cut. Sadly he died in battle but willingly volunteered to be put in harms way.

The actions of a youth and someone old enough to be his father fought for what they believed in. This battle was instrumental in booting the Ottoman Empire from what is now Israel. These soldiers tricked the Turks by charging them. Light horseman traditionally dismounted and then attacked on foot. Knowing their situation was bleak, 800 soldiers ran under the heavy guns effective line of fire and slaughtered the enemy.

When one absorbs the power of The Be’er Sheva memorial, it strongly reflects the values of the time. The sacrifices of the 1000s buried there reveal how seriously they were prepared to defend the very freedoms we seem so willingly prepared to give up today for the sake of political correctness.

Lest we forget their bravery.

June 1943 on the operating table in New Guinea

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From June 1943 – a day in the life of the Field Ambulance,

Last night the Fuzzy Wuzzies brought him in on the improvised stretcher – he had copped a mortar bomb 12 hours ago and was despairingly low…

…now that surgeon battled to keep that little spark of life flickering for as long as he did was a miracle…picture a scene in a ramshackle thatched hut and the faces of the M.O. nad his orderlies reflected in the light of a hurricane lamp as they worked quietly and efficiently over the wounded man. A bottle of blood serum hangs from the rafters and from it leads the glass and rubber tubing into a vein. The serum drips steadily and the casualty opens his eyes for an instant and gives a long sigh – the M.O. mutters “he may make it”…but two hours later he passed away quietly and the long struggle for life had been in vain…

…next day his cobbers carried him to his grave, stumbling, slipping and sometimes wading thigh deep through a boulder strewn stream to get to a suitable site…a few words, simple but sincere said by his NCO and the grave is filled in and a bottle containing the dead man’s particulars are placed on the grave and a rough cross of saplings tied together with vines and his tin hat placed over it was erected.

His cobbers filed silently back to their hut engrossed in their own thoughts and flopped on their bunks…one man, veteran of Libya, Greece & Crete picked up the Army newssheet scanned through it then suddenly got to his feet with a ferocious look and said, “Christ almighty wouldn’t it ______ you” and stormed out of the hut.

I wondered what had “bitten him” so picked up the paper he had thrown down – and suddenly understood – “Strikers demand holiday in lieu of Anzac Day”…The opinions of the rest of the occupants are not fit to print!

Freedom isn’t free

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My grandfather’s comments could easily be directed at the same people who try to shame Anzac Day marches today by calling it “Bogan Halloween” and suggesting that soldiers’ jobs is no more dangerous than any other. Lt. Peterson wrote,

Well on reading about some of the women you were telling me about I feel a loathing for such hypocritical parasites. Is this what men are laying down their lives to protect? I sometimes wish that they could see how a bloke looks like when he is unburied for a couple of months, a skeleton with boots and clothes on, eaten by ants. A grinning skull and shirt black and stiff with congealed blood. Or a few Japs scattered around a shell hole with leg bones protruding from their boots…

…I wonder and think that these bones were a few months ago living people, with their loves and hates, wives and mothers, and sweethearts, posted as missing, they are frequently seen in the jungle, unburied until found. Then I think of the mongrels safe in Australia and having a great time the bastards – pardon my eloquence but I really get worked up over the mongrels that are not worth the little finger of the boys on the job defending their pseudo honour and their miserable little lives.”

Unseen WW2 pics thru lens of AIF Lt. Norman Peterson

 

The power of the 2011 tsunami – a short preview in pictures

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As we go about our daily lives we tend to forget how lucky we are. How easy it is to lose our cool over trivial things. 6 years ago a devastating earthquake caused massive horror but it was the tsunami that followed that did the real damage. A wall of water 20  metres high washed boats kilometres inland and wiped out street upon street of homes leaving nothing but the concrete bases. The tsunami claimed over 16,000 lives, often the forgotten part of the story when the media hyperventilated over the Fukushima melt down. Perhaps the most eerie of all the photos I took was near a school in Minamisanriku. Minnie Mouse was just lying there against the foundations of someone’s home, half a kilometre from the shore.  Missing an eye and covered in a depressing grey silt with her arms splayed out as if to question how Mother Nature could unleash such fury? One is left to ponder did the girl who hugged Minnie at night survive the ordeal? It still haunts me every time I see the picture.

While still in Minamisanriku, I noted how high the waves reached by the salt that had ruined the leaves of the trees. My bike can be seen to give an idea of the scale.

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Everything was washed away. The foundations of so many houses remained but barely any house could withstand the force of a wall of water coming it at huge velocity and at such height.

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Once car had been washed on the third floor of an apartment complex. It looked like a prank for the condition it was in.

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Waste was strewn everywhere. It took over three years just to clean it away. Here is a picture of a fishing trawler washed onto the second story of a hospital.

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In Kesennuma a large boat was washed around 1km inland. The sheer idea that such a massive vessel could be ragdolled like this was mind-boggling.

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In Rikuzentakata one tree managed to survive the ordeal. It also had an eerie sadness to it. A stark reminder of the power of that wave.

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There are thousands more photos to add but this is to give a quick snapshot of what was and in coming days I will upload the before and after of each town and marvel at the recovery.

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