A pleasant walk....

On Christmas day last year, in the heart of Oxfordshire (sometimes called Oxford) there was a crisp and deep and even blanket of snow, wrapping us up into a snuggly white heaven. Well, of course with that sort of treat, what better than to slip on some wellies, call on some wallies, and go for a walk. And that's exactly what I did.

The British were considered to be notoriously handsome by their enemies even when heavy snow turned the weather cold

Back in February 1945 there were thousands of others who had exactly the same idea as me. It was the coldest winter since records began. Of course the Nazis had burnt all records and so the records only actually went back to the previous winter. However with hindsight, meteorological messiahs have managed to ascertain that it was probably the coldest winter in 50 years. Brrrrrr. The Allies were on the front foot, with the western front fast closing in on the Third Reich (the First and Second Reich had long since been put on their toes) , and the Russians, well they were storming in from the east in desperate search of the German who provided them with inaccurate data on the chances of defeat in their new favourite game, 'roulette'.

The inevitability of a German defeat was starting to draw it's fat lady, however rations were so slender that they had to use up a number of Red Cross parcels to complete her. A systematic process began, led by the SS, to steal British rations and complete her. Thousands of captured allies were being held in eastern Germany and Poland, the theory being that the further away that they were from Britain, the less likely they were to attempt an escape. Many had been tucked away behind the barbed wire since being captured at Dunkirk in 1940, unsure whether they would ever be freed or the Allies would ever arrive.

The Germans steal British POW rations to complete their fat lady

They would sometimes receive letters from home, asking what the German beer was like or questioning whether they were being faithful to their loved one(s). Despite such assumptions from back home, it wasn't actually the largest stag-do to hit Europe before Easyjet opened up routes to Prague. Food was in scarce supply, few were ever allowed out of the camp on working parties, and they had to conjure up their own entertainment once their Playstations batteries had expired.

High Jinks: A British POW attempts to lift a barrel and two comrades with just his front teeth

As the Russians descended upon them, the Germans got themselves into a right kerfuffle. And who can blame them. The Russians are notoriously average lovers as most James Bond movies will testify to. And so the Germans dragged out all the Allied Prisoners of War ("POW") in the middle of the night and started marching them in minus 17 degree temperatures, emaciated, for a short 500 mile trek. Those who slowed were shot. At night they often slept outdoors. If they took their boots off the boots froze and they were forced to go barefoot. If they left their boots on, frostbite was their friend and they lost their feet. Adolf, cheeky damned sod that he'd now become, even urged his camp commanders to make the POWs walk without trousers. High jinks indeed. But rightly this was considered to be sexual harrassment with political correctness being at an all time high during this period.

Many hundreds died in these long walks across Germany. It's never been clear why the Germans marched so many prisoners across the crumbling nation. It was a strain on their resources both in terms of manpower and in rationed food. Perhaps they wanted them as hostages. Perhaps the fanatics of the SS wanted to murder them all. But there is a genuine suggestion that the Germans believed much of their own propaganda, that the Russians would treat the prisoners badly, and that eventually, the allies would join them in fighting the Red Army.

Footnote: The Allies would go on to win World War Two. The snow eventually melted.

The good Jews of New York City

Fiero LaGuardia was Mayor of New York, which is in New York for those of you not so acquainted with the subtleties of American geography. Apparently there has been a lot of confusion in the past, and so the locals will always reaffirm where they are from if you ask them politely. Anyway, back to the point. Fiero LaGuardia, which translated means 'Wild Airport', was Mayor of New York during World War 2.

Of course America wasn't actually at war during this time. Damned habitual pacifists that they are. They had to wait their turn until the British had mercilessly teased the Germans for many a year with all sorts of trickery and tomfoolery. The Boche were subject to quick fire games of hide and seek (see Dunkirk) or theft of their favourite fireworks (see Blitz), and of course some outrageous name-calling. Boche itself is a French term, which can infer that someone is pig-headed, an abbreviation of tete de boche, however it came to mean rascal. How the Germans raged when they were subject to losing hide and seek, having their fireworks stolen, and then had it all capped off by being called rascals.


The British team tease the Germans by hiding behind a giant wall as they go on to win another game of Hide and Seek

So anyway, Fiero was Mayor of New York. During his tenure he was given the rather enviable task of providing protection for a group of Nazi dignitaries who were visiting the city. Inexplicably at the time, they were all very keen to avoid the Guggenheim museum. Fortunately it hadn't been thought of yet. So they never saw it. Fiero went about selecting the members of the police force to protect the dignitaries. The policemen's names were David, Aaron, Yusef and Avner. Yes, you've guessed it alright. He was trying to make a point. He wanted people to protect the Nazis who had five letters in their name, just like Adolf. He was sending a very firm message to Hitler. It's five letters or no letters. Unfortunately Adolf misconstrued the message and the Americans had to take firmer action.


Jewish 'cops' were used in New York to protect the Nazis

Squaddie Fatigue

Operant Geo has reported back from the dessert. He said it was tasty.


He's also updated us on a cunning new breed of squaddie that the British Forces are deploying over in Afghanistan. The NUMPTY. They can be absolutely lethal when life gets dull in the desert.

The Taliban are notoriously difficult to capture and identify. Quite often they will wear the same outfit and pretend that they're not who they say they are. This is a masterful enemy. Latest pictures captured below of their headquarters show they're no longer there. It's just lots of bushes.


The Army have a system used in Helmand province for capturing people's biometric data. It's essentially the military's equivalent of a big digital camera with a large view screen. It allows them to pass an individual's fingers over the screen to get prints, use the lens on it to get an iris scan and then there is some DNA capture nonsense. Due to spending cuts the British version is not as sopisticated as the American model. See below for the current British equipment.


Due to fears of an Orwellian society emerging in Afghanistan, where women wouldn't be allowed to go to school or show their faces, the Army have to have a fairly good reason to capture someone's biometrics. Once their details get added, they are placed on a watchlist for the rest of their lives and all sorts of secret service bods get incredibly excited. So, we're really talking bomb-making suspects, smugglers, guys with weapons etc ...

Cue the British squaddie who decided to enter himself on to the system. Photo, prints, iris scan ... the whole thing. Reason that he entered for capturing the data: "He's a dodgy c**t!"

Unfortunately the cheeky young squaddie is consequently now banned from travelling to most Western countries. Perhaps better to build a sand castle next time you're bored in the desert, eh?

When one can no longer serve one's country....

Emile Heskey. There he is below. You'll notice he is a very talented footballer as he pulls off a unique trick that nobody has ever seen before. This week he decided he could no longer serve England to the best of his abilities. He stated, "I've enjoyed every moment of my England career". Along with his opponents, he was probably the only person to have enjoyed his England career.



Young Emile is not the only man to feel he can no longer serve his country effectively. In 1936, after just 325 days as King, Edward VIII or Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David, as he was more commonly known, abdicated from the throne. There is a theory that he had developed a multiple personality disorder through his multitude of names, however the reason given at the time was that Edward had fallen in love with an American. A foolish nonsense. Her name was Wallis Simpson and as a divorcee it had really raised some eyebrows across establishment circles.

However the story may be more complex when one looks at more recent evidence, with files having been released by the FBI, MI5 and MI6. It appears there were concerns that Edward VIII was indeed a passionate believer in the Nazi cause. Wallis Simpson was known to have had affairs with leading members of the Nazi party and Edward was certainly thought to be under her thumb. As well, at times, as under other parts of her body, including her fascist boobies. He was monitored closely by Special Branch and in July 1936, when he was King, an assassination attempt was made on his life by an Irishman, who claimed to be working for MI5. At the time MI5 denied this, but it is now believed the claims were true.

Eventually at the end of 1936 Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David became the first King to abdicate out of choice. He stated,
"I now quit altogether public affairs and I lay down my burden. It may be some time before I return to my native land, but I shall always follow the fortunes of the British race and empire with profound interest, and if at any time in the future I can be found of service to his majesty in a private station, I shall not fail."

In the mean time, Adolf Hitler had noted Edward's penchance for the Third Reich and the master race. In 1937 he was invited to Germany and enjoyed filming a celebrity episode of Come Dine With Me, with everyone's favourite dinner guests, Goebbels, Himmler, Goering and Hitler. The episode was famous for Goebbels convincing everyone that marmite made for a tasty garnish.



Below is a picture of Hitler welcoming Edward and Wallis Simpson to his pad during the show. He apparently served a very spicy Swastikka Massala.



Over the next few years Edward would make a number of blunders including giving away to the Italians at a ball, that the Americans had deciphered their code system, telling the Germans where the weak point of the allies was on the Maginot line during 1940, and giving an interview to an American magazine where he blamed the Jews, farmers and Roosevelt for the ensuing world war. Pretty tough on the Jews and Roosevelt.

Eventually it was thought that he would be less of a liability hidden away. Churchill decided to send him to the Bahamas where it would be impossible for him to cause further trouble. He lapped up the challenge, setting the bar for his one time successor Prince Phillip, immediately finding new ways to be a cheeky little chappy. He said of Étienne Dupuch, the editor of the Nassau Daily Tribune in the Bahamas,
"It must be remembered that Dupuch is more than half Negro, and due to the peculiar mentality of this Race, they seem unable to rise to prominence without losing their equilibrium."

It is not believed that Edward had seen the photo of Emile Heskey, above, at this time. It is also widely acknowledged that Emile Heskey and Edward VIII, despite both turning their back on England, had little in common and may not have been friends. Emile will always be the better man, although Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David does have as many names as Emile has goals for his country.

Safe passage to Operant GEO

This week a member of our squadron will be going on a training mission for our operation next year. We have decided that Operant GEO will go to Afghanistan, where we believe he can become au fait with the latest in battle tactics and long range missions.

Operant GEO is already Sandhurst trained, and for that we are grateful that he has put himself through some of the more basic training. I went to Beavers and as such he still has some catching up to do.

However we have recently noticed that Operant GEO has been putting on some holiday weight, and seems confused in everyday situations. Only last week he started to brush his hair with an electric toothbrush creating an incredibly curly and vivacious coiffeur. His first task will be to cut down on the excess baggage, and he will be fortunate enough to be joined by Santa Claus, who routinely travels to Afghanistan in the run up to Christmas so that he is Chimney Compliant and gives Donner and Blitzen a fair crack at the whip come December.


On this tour of duty Operant GEO will have many distinguihsed tasks to carry out, and if he is successful then he will of course play a key part in the squadrons expedition across Europe. Once he has gone through his initial weeks of training then he will be ready to tackle the Insomniac Rebels, a group of lethal Pyjamastanis who will be intent on keeping Operant GEO awake. Small in stature, they are absolutely lethal around dusk when they normally strike, armed with land-rhymes.

Whilst many of them are easy to spot, some can be more subtle, disguising themselves as lampshades, and controlling the visages of the desert. See the evidence below as Operant GEO, on a previous tour, is completely unaware of the Pyamastanis that have sneaked up on him.



This is an enemy that should not be underestimated. Their control of darkness has seen them turn many British soldiers into silhouettes.


We wish Operant GEO a successful tour and a safe return.

Mussolini loves the World Cup

There is an old joke about the Italian army where they are selling their rifles. They are reported to advertise:

"Italian rifle, mint condition, never fired, only dropped once".


Of course this is most mischievous as it suggests that the Italians are not as brave as some of the foe that they have faced. Stereotypes can be dangerous, especially when one starts to bring them into the field of conflict.

For those of you that have been following the World Cup though, there have however been some uncanny stereotypes.

The Swiss never really got invovled. The French succumbed early despite plenty of bravado and hystrionics. The Italians were all fired up until they actually had to play some tough opposition at which point they capitulated, and the English were left to face the Germans alone. In hindsight, they could probably have done with some American help. Of course the analogy fails when the Dutch end up fighting the Uruguayans for no particular reason and the Spanish overwhelm the Germans with their own blitzkrieg.

Italian Fascist dictator, Benito Mussolini, attended most of the matches during the 1934 FIFA World Cup. However during this World Cup he hasn't because Italy went out early and also he's dead.

During 1934 Bennito used the World Cup as a tool for propaganda. One example of this was evident through Mussolini’s arrogance, where he named one of the World Cup stadiums in Turin after himself. The "I'll always be in Hitlers shadow stadium" still stands today.


While certain teams criticised Mussolini’s Italy about their aggressive tactics during the tournament, they were even more critical when he started getting really aggressive and sending tanks into their home towns.

It was claimed that Mussolini was thrilled to see Italy clinch their first World Cup as it would promote national spirit ahead of any conflict. Unfortunately Italian national spirit, like any strong spirit, ended up with the country turning into a nation of swingers. They changed their choice of sides as often as the seasons came and went: Allies, Axis, Allies, Italy, Mafia, Allies, not sure, UN, EU, mafia, Berlusconi / Mafia.

Don't wave during the National Anthem

Today England play Slovenia (once part of Czechoslovakia), in the World Cup, in a winner takes all sort of game. The England team have come under some pressure recently, but hopefully they'll remember what is important. That football is just a game and that family and friends come first. Have a look at the picture below. England are playing Germany in a big match in Berlin, but still find time to wave to their family before kick off.


In 1938, the England team, including the english legend Stanley Matthews, went to play Germany. Hitler had suggested to the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, that they could have a kick around, with the winner getting first dibs in selecting regions to enlarge their global empires. Actually, the reality was that Neville was a bit wet and was pandering to Adolf, and thought that a nice game of football might help ensure 'Peace in our Time'. Luckily England were widely considered the best in the world at the time and won 6-3. Therefore they got to choose six regions they wanted to annex. Neville went for Dorset, Scotland, Wales, Hampshire, Devon and the Isle of Wight. Adolf, like a true gent, took this on the chin and then selected his three regions: Austria, Czechoslovakia and Poland - and promptly invaded them.

In fact, Hitler wasn't even at the game between England and Germany, so the England team performing a Nazi salute was pretty pointless and created much chagrin back home. It's worth noting that Hitler hated sport and wasn't very good at it. See below a picture of him as a young boy begging not to be forced to play a game of football down at the local park.


So the Slovenians might line up for the national anthems at todays big game with mild apprehension. If the England players start waving, then their homeland might be at risk of invasion.

Can I have my bike back please?

Did you know that there is a World Cup on at the moment for football? It may not have made the news where you are, but in some places, this is a big deal. My grandmother is a huge football fan, and as such, I've not been able to avoid hearing about the tournament. World Cups mean that the world comes together and everyone loves everyone else, because apparently football is a family.

There are two European teams involved. Actually there are thirteen European teams if you include England, although many people wouldn't because they have their own unique language and currency in England. They're a very funny little people. Anyway, there are two European teams who have a good chance of winning the tournament, and they don't really like each other. They are the Netherlands and the Germany. They have a big footballing rivalry based on the fact that in the 1940s, the German boys stole the Dutch boys ball. Then they stole their houses. Then their women. And finally their country. In footballing circles this is seen as a huge no-no.


When the German boys finally gave the ball back to the Dutch boys, a whole five years later, in order to go home for their tea, with the scoreline at 143,287 - 0, the Germans still had one cheeky last act. They were short of lorries and tanks, and so they stole the Dutch boy's bikes. The Dutch boys were furious, and said that if they ever played the Germans at football again, they would create banners and sing about wanting their bikes back. And to this day they have stuck to that promise and still do at all games between the two sides.


So if Germany end up playing the Netherlands later on in the competition, keep an eye out for some rascalish bike-related banners and chants.

Pineapple Heads

Nicolas Sarkozy is a Frenchman. But today he is in Englandshire to celebrate a wonderful radio broadcast in June 1940 by General de Gaulle, broadcast from the BBC in London, pleading with those Frenchman left behind in France to be incredibly naughty whilst the Nazis were about. Many of the French were very very naughty. And many still are.

The General had fled his country the day before, and was relatively unknown at the time, and whilst some of his fellow countrymen went weak at the knees at the mere sight of Hitler's moustachioed visage and were willing to become surrender monkeys, the General was declaring himself leader of the Free French and calling to arms the as yet unformed French Resistance. He bellowed out, "the flame of the French resistance must not and will not be extinguished". Unfortunately, a prankster at the BBC enraged General de Gaulle by forgetting to press the record button. I love japes like that. Oh how I wish I could have been there to see the look on his face. His pineapple face. And his womanly hips. I'm sure you're thinking that those are odd things to say. Well those were the criticisms laid at him by the British. I think our reputation as being the wittiest nation in the world came to the fore in June 1940.

General Charles de Gaulle just before delivering his famous speech


Posters displaying his words were put up all over London in the days that followed the broadcast, to galvanise French exiles. It was also the beginning of the 'entente cordiale'. I've never believed in the entente cordiale. If it were such an equal and wonderful partnership then at least one english word would have slipped into it's name.



President Sarkozy has himself said that, 'We are all the children of the 18 June'. That's not how birthdays work Nicolas. It's lucky he's French because it sounds vaguely philosophical when said with a French accent. If you said that in cockney you'd be in a proper pickle.

What is a Pieman?

My ears are punctuated with alertness at the moment. I can hear the clamor from here, reverberating around the widely spread sanctuaries of The Longest Days' various bastions of support.

"Simon, you promised we'd get to meet other chaps heading Normandywards on this expedition", the less sympathetic echoing, "Where are the real heroes?", and the more cynical still, "Are you a lonely fantasist?"

Well, it's time you got to meet the Pieman. The name is something that he has worked hard to shed, but it has stuck interminably with the pounds. His hero is Douglas Bader but sadly Pieman is less nimble on his feet. Read about the hero that was Douglas on the below link:

http://www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douglas_Bader

Hailing from the depths of Yorkshire, he was only pried away from the white rosed county when the new world called him. He gained his flight wings in Florida, and also spent some time working on his tummy wings. He left America highly acclaimed for both sets of wings, having used chicken wings to get his latter fame. He now works for a large European defence subsidiary, carrying out reconnaissance flights across the world, most recently returning from West Africa.

Pieman has a degree in Town Planning, which is ironic given that had he been about in 1940 it's highly likely he'd have been decimating many a Stadtmitte or Rathaus. The below shot is of Nuremberg, which was controversially flattened by the Allies at the end of the war.


He also has a keen eye for photography, he loves his cars and is thus the team spanner, and is also rather partial to growing his own veggies. Below is a propaganda poster from the 1940s. Due to the scarcity of available rations the whole populace was encouraged to grow as many veggies as they could through such posters. We can be assured Pieman would have gone the extra mile to grow plenty of grub had he completed his tour of duty. I think you'll all agree that he's a welcome member of the team.

Thank you for joining the Allies

Welcome to another update and thank you for your early support for this maverick and ill-thought out expedition. I've had some 200 Allies from across Australasia, South America, Europe, the Far East and North America show their support in these early days and come visit me, although it should be noted that the North American visitors arrived a little later than everyone else, but boy was I thankful that they turned up.



It's reminiscent of the support for Poland in 1939 - nobody really knows why they're supporting, and then they're not sure why they're still supporting some time later, but suddenly they are and there is a magical kinship created. An inner sense of knowing that visiting this blog is simply a natural reaction to the pins within your moral compass.

So welcome, Band of Brothers!

A dedication....

Today is a day to say thank you to people in the world that really matter. From time to time it is important to take time out to remember the special people in the world who we owe so much to from the past.

So I'm going to take time out to pay my respects to an individual who means alot to me. If it weren't for this guy above, I'd be speaking German. He is a brave, heroic American, who simply never knew when he was beaten. His name is Thomas, and he was my German tutor for 4 years, and couldn't even conjugate a verb. He saved me from speaking a very ugly language.

Thank you Thomas.

An invite to the Prince...

One of our troop, George, who you will get to meet very soon, was skillful and talented enough to be able to receive his military training through Sandhurst. By quirk and virtue of age and surnames beginning with letters towards the end of the alphabet, he spent much of his training sat next to Officer Cadet Harry Wales or Prince Harry to you and I.

They became stirringly good buddies, going through the many trials, tribulations and tomfoolery that accompanies any officers years of training.



It was in a moment of great misjudgement that George went for a night out with Prince Harry, and invited along Jim, another member of the troop who you will get to meet in the coming weeks. Jim is a fine upstanding fellow however in a state of intoxicated merriment, he caused a wave of consternation amongst Royal Protection Officers on this particular evening, when he put the poor Royal Prince in a head lock and demanded Champagne which he had rightfully paid for through his taxes. Jim, of course, neglegted to mention he was a non tax-paying student at the time. (For legal purposes I should state that the photo above is a reconstruction of the event and does not include Jim).

With this in mind, and with anecdotes a plenty as to what good company the Royals can be on expeditions, I decided that I should invite Prince William along on our sojourns. I laid a careful plan to head down to the Mall on Saturday morning for the Queen's birthday, Trooping the Colour, and make the suggestion to William there and then in person.

However it really didn't unfurl as planned. Firstly, it felt so impersonal as many others had turned up to watch me make my invite to Prince William. And secondly, he was with Camilla, who seemed to have an overwhelming influence and connection with the horses drawing their carriage, causing them to trundle at great speed.



I opened up dialogue with William as he arrived where I was waiting for him and, from my understanding, we had agreed to meet. I started my prepared pitch, "Hello William", however straight away I could sense that he wasn't as gung ho about this adventure as I. He immediately waved and smiled at me, but his body language was all wrong. I let it be. I've included a video of the moment which I think all of you will agree, really gives away William's reticence. (Sorry for the poor quality)



Princess Beatrice was following in the ensuing carriage and I thought about extending the invite to her, but I thought her family may be struggling financially at the moment so didn't want to put her in an embarrassing spot.

A little about myself...

Well there is simply no hiding from the fact that the photo above is me. You'll note how old I am by the virtue of the image still being in black and white. I do my best to keep up with the evolving world around me, however I often find it to be a constant series of baffling pickles and puzzles.

My name is Simon and I'm 29, which would of course have been veteran age amongst the heroes of the British Expeditionary Force that first travelled across the channel at the beginning of the Phoney War in 1939.

I was born and raised in London, but spent many years in Oxford. I was fortunate enough to study Politics and International Relations at University before gaining employment in London in a financial role, following in the footsteps of my grandfather who worked for the Midland Bank at Threadneedle Street after returning from the war.

I'm sure you'll learn more about me in time, but it's important to keep your interest by holding a little back for later. Needless to say I'm a wizard fellow and have been in many scrapes over the years. More than once I've ended up with a gun to my head or stranded in a minefield. I hope that adds a little piquance and dances around your mind conjuring up all the potential of this upcoming adventure.

I'll introduce the rest of the gang in the coming weeks...

The choice of transport....

At this early stage there is little to really worry about. It is but 12 months before D-Day, when we'll leave our encampment, have our last chow, and start eastwards.

Speculation and gentle pottering has allowed some light reflection on our potential mode of transport. So far there have been a number of suggestions. All agree that it is simply no use trying to visit all our targets via plane. It's strengths as a strategy are that it would be very quick and the photographs would capture a unique angle. The negatives are that it would be somewhat expensive, the trip would feel somewhat abbreviated, and we may not feel that we've truly connected to the history that lies beneath. Similarly a marine approach is redundant. We might reach Pegasus Bridge pretty effectively down the River Orne, but then our progress would be halted.

And so a roadworthy vehicle must be procured. The early frontrunner is above.

Welcome to the Longest Days

It is with great pleasure that I welcome you to The Longest Days.

In 2010 a group of young fellows decided with great gusto that they should head from Blighty over the Channel to unearth the curiosities that lie hidden amidst Europe's past. They would track across the continent and seek to enlighten themselves to the wonders of the war to end all wars, that followed the war which ended all wars. And so it was.

The plans were spurious and ill-thought out, the numbers were few but enthusiastic, and their backgrounds diverse yet reconcilable. This blog will follow the evolution of an expedition that will cast light upon the Second World War's great sites, and how they inflect, shine and fade within the modern european landscape. And the journey of the young men that go with it.