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.