One Thousand Years of Soldiers’ Gear in the West

Posted on August 20, 2014 by

Huscarl, Battle of Hastings, 1066

The Battle of Hastings was fought on 14 October 1066 between the Norman-French army of Duke William II of Normandy and an English army under the Anglo-Saxon King Harold II, during the Norman conquest of England.

The background to the battle was the death of the childless King Edward the Confessor in January 1066, which set up a succession struggle between several claimants to his throne.

We are all used to the expression, “a picture tells the story of a thousand words”, but sometimes unwrapping even the picture itself can tell the story even better.

Thom Atkinson did just that, laying out and photographing the historical gear carried by soldiers from different eras across a thousand years, in the process bringing to life a reality that can be difficult to otherwise grasp.

Mounted Knight, Siege of Jerusalem, 1244

The 1244 Siege of Jerusalem took place after the Sixth Crusade, when the Khwarezm conquered the city on July 15, 1244.

Frederick II, Holy Roman Emperor led the Sixth Crusade to the Holy Land in 1228, and claimed the kingship of Jerusalem by right of his wife, Queen Yolande of Jerusalem, who had inherited the title of ‘Queen of Jerusalem’ from her mother.

Jerusalem did not remain for long in Christian hands, as there was not enough territory around it in Christian hands to make it defensible.

New Model Army Musketeer, Battle of Naseby, 1645

The Battle of Naseby was the decisive battle of the first English Civil War. On 14 June 1645, near the village of Naseby in Northamptonshire, the main army of King Charles I was destroyed by the Parliamentarian New Model Army commanded by Sir Thomas Fairfax and Oliver Cromwell.

The main Royalist military force had been shattered at Naseby. The King had lost his veteran infantry (including 500 officers), all his artillery, and many arms.

He lacked the resources to create an army of such quality again, and after Naseby it simply remained for the Parliamentarian armies to wipe out the last pockets of Royalist resistance.

Private Soldier, Battle of Waterloo, 1815

The Battle of Waterloo was fought on Sunday, 18 June 1815, near Waterloo in present-day Belgium. A French army under the command of Napoleon was defeated by the armies of the Seventh Coalition.

Upon Napoleon’s return to power in March 1815, many states that had opposed him formed the Seventh Coalition and began to mobilize armies.

Waterloo was the decisive engagement of the Waterloo Campaign and Napoleon’s last. The defeat at Waterloo ended Napoleon’s rule as Emperor of the French, and marked the end of his Hundred Days return from exile.

Lance Corporal, Parachute Brigade, Battle of Arnhem, 1944

The Battle of Arnhem was a famous Second World War battle in which the Germans defeated an Allied attack that stretched too far from its support.

[T]he Allies launched Operation Market Garden on 17 September. Paratroopers were dropped in the Netherlands to secure key bridges and towns along the Allied axis of advance.

Only a small force was able to reach the Arnhem road bridge while the main body of the division was halted on the outskirts of the city.

With no secure bridges over the Nederrijn, the Allies were unable to advance further and the front line stabilised south of Arnhem.

Photographer Thom Atkinson for the full set.
Quoted text via Wikipedia.

The Soviet War of Aggression on the Micronation of the Principality of Outer Baldonia

Posted on August 18, 2014 by

The Principality of Outer Baldonia is a now defunct micronation whose territorial pretensions comprised the roughly 4 acres (16,000 m2) of Outer Bald Tusket Island, the southernmost of the Tusket Islands, 8 nautical miles (15 km) off the southern tip of the Canadian province of Nova Scotia.

Founded in 1948 by [Pepsi-Cola sales executive] Russell Arundel, [it was] endowed with a charter, flag, and organized military. Coinage and passports were also issued.

Stumbling across the island while fishing (recreationally, not commercially) for tuna, Arundel soon after arranged to purchase the island for $750 and built a stone fishing lodge about 30 by 20 feet in size.

While drinking (naturally) he and some friends conceived of and elaborated on the details of what would become Outer Baldonia.

There are some great details here, too – for example, the currency was referred to as “the Tunar” in honor of the tuna fishing that had led Arundel to the island.

All citizens of the Principality who caught a Bluefin Tuna and paid a $50 fee were accorded the rank of Prince. The ranks of the peerage were limited to 100.

While never legally recognized by any government other than that of Nova Scotia, Outer Baldonia managed to acquire a certain amount of prestige on the international stage.

Simply by listing his law office’s phone number as that of the Consulate of Outer Baldonia in the telephone registry of Washington, D.C., Prince Russell received many invitations to gatherings which he attended in his diplomatic garb, which some say was decorated largely with sardine cans and bottle caps.

Outer Baldonia was even invited to apply for membership to the then nascent United Nations.

The Declaration of Independence of the Charter of Outer Baldonia is another gem:

“That fishermen are a race alone. That fishermen are endowed with the following inalienable rights: The right to lie and be believed. The right of freedom from question, nagging, shaving, interruption, women, taxes, politics, war, monologues, care and inhibitions. The right to applause, vanity, flattery, praise and self-inflation. The right to swear, lie, drink, gamble and silence.”

The rest of the charter covered tax policy, citizenship codes of conduct, military structure, trade and industrial policies.

Women were banned from the island (though, strangely, not citizenship), and the stated primary business of the island was (of course) fishing, but also the export of empty rum and beer bottles.

Then came war with the Soviet Union. Seriously. Kind of.

A communist writer in the Soviet Union published an attack upon the content of the Charter, which she claimed dehumanised and decivilized the citizenry in the USSR state publication Literaturnaya Gazeta

When the Soviet Government declined an invitation to visit and observe the wholesomeness of the micronation’s way of life with an eye to retracting its insults, a declaration of war was issued on March 9, 1953.

Yes, Outer Baldonia actually had a navy in the form of somewhere between twenty and a hundred fishing and sport vessels.

The reaction of the Soviet Union was swift and in the form of a series of press condemnations, as the communist state clearly had no desire to challenge the Baldonian Navy.

In the end, the inside joke of Outer Baldonia’s diplomatic representatives fell before the onslaught of investigative reporting as to the exact nature of Outer Baldonia. In 1973, the island was finally sold to Russel Arundel for the price of $1 (Canadian) to the Nova Scotia Bird Society, whereupon the island was designated a bird sanctuary. Outside of tern rookery breeding season, it is open to the public.

Top photo via Teddeon.
Other images via Wizzley. Map from Google Maps.
Quoted text via Wikipedia.

The Mongol Derby: Retracing Genghis Khan’s Historical Postal Route

Posted on August 17, 2014 by

The goal is to ride a 621-mile circuit (1,000 kilometers) of Mongolian steppe in less than ten days.

Fewer than half of the riders are expected to make it across the finish line. The rest will either quit or be carried off the course by the medical team. Broken bones and torn ligaments are common, frustration and bruised egos the norm. Every rider will fall off multiple times during the course of the race.

The race route is modeled on the horse relay postal system created under Genghis Khan in 1224, which was instrumental in the expansion of the Mongolian Empire. [S]pecially appointed postal riders would gallop more than 100 miles (160 kilometers) to a morin urtuu, or horse relay station, where another escort would be waiting with a fresh horse.

At the postal route’s zenith, a letter could cross from Kharkhorin in the east to the Caspian Sea on the far western edge of the empire, a distance of some 4,225 miles (6,800 kilometers), in two weeks (an average of about 300 miles, or 480 kilometers, a day).

Postal riders continued to deliver the mail until 1949, when the Soviet Union—which then controlled Mongolia—shut down the system in an attempt to erase the history of Genghis Khan from the country.

Mongolian horses are unique for several reasons. Genetically, they are considered to be horses despite being the size of a pony. A horse is typically 5 feet (157 centimeters) or taller at the base of the neck. While on average Mongol horses are only 4.6 feet (143 centimeters) tall, they are considered horses because of their head structure and bone size.

Despite their diminutive size, today’s Mongol horses are the same breed ridden by Genghis Khan’s conquering warriors — able to run long distances and to withstand a wide range of temperatures, from -40 to 90 degrees Fahrenheit (-40 to 30 degrees Celsius).

The Mongol Derby isn’t cheap, though. There is an entrance fee of over $13,000, and entrance is not guaranteed but subject to an interview. Moreover, the route itself shifts as much as 25% every year – this actually makes it even more accurate, since the original route varied as well, as different families rotated responsibility for each of the various way stations.

You don’t bring your own horse, as well – these are barely tamed horses, and like the original postal route, a particular horse only runs between stations, meaning this is much more of a challenge for the rider than the horses.

This year, over a thousand horses were involved, each with GPS and a network of vets and support to ensure sufficient water across the route, a not-inconsiderable problem given the terrain.

This is actually particularly interesting to me, since I’ve considered for a long time riding across Mongolia, though an actual race like this would break me, I am quite sure – that good a rider I am not.

Via National Geographic.

Battles Against the Monsters Under The Bed

Posted on August 8, 2014 by

There’s a terrible green monster
who lives beneath my bed.
I hear his long white teeth click.
He’s waiting to be fed.
I shiver underneath my sheets
and squeeze my eyes up tight.
Maybe if I lie real still
he won’t eat me tonight…
He taps me on the shoulder.
I don’t know what to do.
He looks at me and says, “I’m scared!
Can I get in with you?”

- Penny Trzynka

I don’t think these kids bought the whole, “I’m scared!” line…

Photographer Laure Fauvel‘s photo series Terreurs.
Poem by Penny Trzynka via Dinner with Dracula.

The Medieval Zombie Manuscript

Posted on August 8, 2014 by

The precise origins of the Three Living and the Three Dead are still somewhat mysterious, but there are many versions of the tale dating back to the 13th century, with the best-known coming from England and France.

The basic version of the story goes like this: three young noblemen are out hunting when they suddenly come across three corpses, which are in varying states of decay, but nonetheless still animated.

Unsurprisingly, the young men express shock and dismay at the sight, while the three corpses admonish them to consider the transience of life and to improve their behaviour before it is too late.

These bas-de-page scenes can be found in the Taymouth Hours towards the end of the The Office of the Dead, a set of prayers for the dead and dying that were included in virtually every medieval Book of Hours.

The Office of the Dead in Add MS 35313 opens with a scene of the Three Living encountering the Three Dead while out hawking, and is unusual in including a woman among the hunting party. This miniature may be a copy of a similar scene in a Book of Hours that belonged to Mary of Burgundy, who was the mother-in-law of Joanna I of Castile

The Three Dead Kings (Middle English from West Staffordshire)

Þen speke þe henmest kyng, in þe hillis he beholdis,
He lokis vnder his hondis and his hed heldis;
Bot soche a carful k[ny]l to his hert coldis,
So doþ þe knyf ore þe kye, þat þe knoc kelddus.
Hit bene warlaws þre þat walkyn on þis woldis.
Oure Lord wyss us þe rede-way þat al þe word weldus!
My hert fare[s] fore freȝt as flagge when hit foldus,
Vche fyngyr of my hond fore ferdchip hit feldus.
Fers am I ferd of oure fare;
Fle we ful fast þer-fore.
Can Y no cownsel bot care.
Þese dewyls wil do vs to dare,
Fore drede lest þai duttyn vche a dore.

Text in Turville-Petre, T. (ed.) Alliterative Poetry of the Later Middle Ages: An Anthology, London: Routledge, 1989, pp. 148 – 157

Then speaks the last king, he looks in the hills
He looks under his hands and holds his head;
But a dreadful blow goes cold to his heart
Like the knife or the key, that chills the knuckle.
“These are three demons that walk on these hills
May our Lord, who rules all the world, show us the quickest way out!
My heart bends with fright like a reed,
Each finger of my hand grows weak with fear.
I’m forcefully afraid of our fate;
Let us quickly flee, therefore.
I can give no counsel but worry.
These devils will make us cower
For dread lest they shut each escape.”

Translation by Turville-Petre

These were quite familiar to those of the era, enough such that they were generally not considered as to need explicit explanation of their depictions. (Well, or maybe it just meant zombies were as well-known to those of the era as to us in the modern era…)

It is all a great reminder that our modern depiction and understanding of the concept of Death and the Grim Reaper is a reflection of our own cultural intuitions; the Middle Ages was quite a bit more familiar with death than the average modern person, and did not at all see death necessarily as an enemy – but as in this case, sometimes as an advisor.

Well, and also a terrifying advocate beyond the Veil who wants to bring you into the fold. So I guess some aspects don’t change.

Via British Library.

Russia’s Vodka Museum

Posted on August 1, 2014 by

Reopened in 2008 in Russia’s second largest city of St. Petersburg, the Russian Vodka Museum explores the creation, packaging, ritual, and culture of the country’s favorite drink.

There are rows and rows of empty bottles in all manner of shapes from human figures to machine guns and an extensive collection of traditional short vodka glasses most often used to drink vodka straight as opposed to using it as a mixer (which in itself is a concept probably better not discussed in the museum).

The whimsical collection of stoppers on display are also of note, shaped like heads, animals, and mythical creatures.

Which reminds me, I should take this opportunity to provide the recipe I personally use for habañero vodka:

Get good quality, clear, unflavored vodka. Pour out maybe 15-20% of it (need the space for the habanero). Yes, if you pour it out down the sink then evil forces will come and eat your soul in punishment for alcohol abuse.
Pick up about a dozen or so fresh habañeros (recommend wearing gloves for this part)
Remove the stems, slice the habaneros in half and force them into the bottle with the vodka. If you remove the seeds before putting the habañeros in I will call you a coward. Just saying.
Close bottle. Shake. Refrigerate. Take out a couple of times every day and shake before replacing.
Repeat for 2-12 weeks. The longer you leave it in the more brutal it will become. My record was three months, and it was truly murderous.
Take out bottle, strain vodka into another bottle.
Shake before drinking, then proceed to dare people to drink a shot of ‘s Hellwater, a.k.a. Tears of the Demon.

Note: This method also works well in a not-going-to-murder-you-way with serrano peppers or horseradish (use cream, not root).

Via Atlas Obscura for more photos and the full article.

The Singing Tower and Library of the Bells

Posted on July 29, 2014 by

Perched on one of the highest points of peninsular Florida, surrounded by hundreds of acres of orange groves, palm trees, ferns, great oaks and a 15 feet deep moat is this rather stunning centrepiece, a soaring 200 foot pink marble tower.

[F]ounded in 1921 [by] Dutch immigrant Edward W. Bok, editor of the popular women’s magazine Ladies Home Journal. [He] was spending his winter at the nearby Lake Wales Ridge and thought it would be the perfect place to create a bird sanctuary on its highest hill.

Attempts were made to introduce flamingos to the sanctuary several times, but efforts proved unsuccessful because the birds couldn’t survive the colder winters of central Florida.

Instead, swans swim around the tower’s moat today.

I want this apparently rarified membership just so I can climb to the top and scream, “Come to me, my flying monkeys! Come to your new master!”

Well, that and all the books. In the secret library on the top floor. Dedicated to the esoteric subject of…bells.

Photos by Bok Tower Gardens.
Via Messy Nessy Chic for the full fascinating article, including many more photos.

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One Thousand Years of Soldiers’ Gear in the West

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The Soviet War of Aggression on the Micronation of the Principality of Outer Baldonia

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The Mongol Derby: Retracing Genghis Khan’s Historical Postal Route

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Battles Against the Monsters Under The Bed

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The Medieval Zombie Manuscript

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Russia’s Vodka Museum

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The Singing Tower and Library of the Bells

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