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    Brian Wolfe

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    Blog Entries posted by Brian Wolfe

    1. Brian Wolfe
      ‘Tis the Season
       
      Ho, ho, ho, here we go again with the annual season seemingly created to make a cynic’s life nearly effortless.  It’s a little over a week before Christmas and the orders placed with my cabinet shop with expectations of them being completed before that day of gift giving nearly realized.  Which brings me to my first observation; I call them “observations” in a desperate attempt to avoid the term “cynicisms”.
       
      Approximately a month ago the rock music station I have tuned into in the shop announced that they would be playing Christmas tunes 24/7 until Christmas Day.  Strange that the disc jockey was able to reveal that information with an apparent air of pride.  True I will be deprived of the songs by that delightful Meghan Trainor  constantly telling the world that “It’s All About the Bass (no treble)” and Elle King bragging about her “Ex’s & Oh’s”. They prove that slightly plus sized blonde white girls can make gimmicky music as well as any skinny inner city inked gang banger/biker babe type.  I first heard about these two particular tunes when our daughter related a story that our six and eight year old grand-daughters took their i-pods to Sunday school and suggested that these would be great song to perform at the annual Christmas concert.  Apparently the most disturbing aspect, at least for their pastor, was when our six year old grand-daughter taught the words and dance moves to “All about the Base” to the other little girls of the class.  Check out the video on the internet.  Another thing I discovered was that this story was NOT FUNNY and my apparent amusement upon hearing the story was a bad influence on our grand-daughters.  To think, last year the songs and dance numbers were all from the cartoon “Frozen” now even their five year old is “All about the Base”.
       
      Back to the radio music.  Over a month of Christmas music?  Really?  Ok, I like Christmas music at least as much as the next Ebenezer but surely even the most accepting Who in Whoville has his or her limits.  One more version of “Baby Its Cold Outside” or “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” and I’m going to lose my egg nog.  Then there’s Bruce Springsteen’s “Santa Claus is Cumin’ To Town”, where he comes out with his condescending monologue asking if the band and audience has been good this year.  I’ve been a musician and the chances of that or any band being “good” all year is about as high as Frosty the Snowman tending a blast furnace located in the Amazon Basin.  Perhaps the worst of the lot is John Lennon’s “So this is Christmas” (War is Over).  Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful song written by one of the greatest musicians of our time.  But listen to the lyrics, if you dare.  The words can make the most charitable person in the world feel like he or she has burned down the orphanage and sent the children to a Siberian gulag in order to construct a bordello on the former shelter’s site. 
       
      Last week I took my musically inclined if not slightly inappropriate grand-daughters to the mall to visit the patron saint of retail sales, the one and only Santa Clause.  He happens to be appearing there in person for the next couple of weeks, so don’t forget to tip your waitress. Photos with the old gent from the North Pole cost $10.00 each but he certainly earned it  when the youngest (five year old) grand-daughter, after asking for a sleigh for her American Doll, said that “mommy says she would like anything this year as long as it comes from La Senza.  So apparently Santa’s face can get as red as Rudolph’s nose.   Actually our daughter’s face was a glowing shade of red as well when her little angle pointed her out to be sure Saint Nick knew who to deliver the “delicates” to, along with a proud thumbs up with her other hand.  To be honest that’s not the worse gesture she can make with one of her digits, but that’s another story.  It’s our daughter’s own fault in teaching the girls to think of others. There was a fellow set up in the aisle selling crafts at the mall.  One of the items was “repurposed” light bulbs painted green, with a Santa’s cap and the face of the cartoon character the Grinch pained on them.  He said that children really liked these and they would make great gifts for our grand-daughters.  Who, besides Sweeny Todd, would give any little child a glass light bulb as a gift, let alone the three Chaos Sisters?  I call them “the Chaos Sisters” for several reasons but at the moment I recall the time when, a few years ago, the then youngest middle grand-daughter accidently pressed 9-1-1 on her mother’s phone.  The police arrived and because our son-in-law, their father, is a fire fighter for the city the police would not leave until the house was “cleared” of any potentially dangerous suspects.  I could write a book...
       
      So with that small glimpse into my world I wish you a very Merry Christmas (Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or other celebration) and the Happiest of New Years. At least most of can agree on the New Year... unless you follow the Lunar New Year.  This political correctness thing is tougher than one might think. Well, be happy whoever or whatever you might be, just remember what the Chaos Sisters told their Sunday school class and Pastor, “It’s All About the Base”.
       
      Regards
      Brian
       
    2. Brian Wolfe
      A Christmas Carol

      Well, here we are almost Christmas and I still haven’t gotten out to purchase any gifts and to be honest it may not happen this year at all. Ok, you’re probably thinking that my wife is correct in calling me “her cold hearted bastard”. But wait, don’t light the torches, gather up the pitchforks and lead the pheasants on a march to the castle quite yet. Yes, I know I said pheasants; it was just my way of messing with the images of a Frankenstein movie dancing in your heads. I have been making use of the internet and ordering gifts this year.

      Even though I must admit that I like the Mr. Scrooge of the first half of the movie better than the reformed miser of later on. Don’t even get me started on the earlier Mr. Grinch. Both had a greater depth of character at the start of the movies. You might think that I could use a visitation by those three ghosts on Christmas Eve. However, given their unwelcomed and abrupt appearance in the middle of the night they would most likely have the “Dickens” beaten out of them before any good would come of their visit.

      Now dear reader, I am sure you are thinking that I have forgotten the collection and the Home Office in my attempts to remain rational during this maudlin, “Most Wonderful Time of the Year”. But take heart my friends as I have mixed in a few purchases for both of these areas along with the gifts for friends and family. The musket collection is getting new custom made slings that will need to be whitened as they are unfinished. All of the Christmas orders are finished in the shop and now I am building a display cabinet/desk for the Home Office.

      Speaking of gifts and family; over the years my family has been very understanding of my manias, mostly regarding my collecting. To be clear that incident involving the catapult and the neighbour’s cat last year was a one off. In my own defence, if you are meant to launch rocks from one of these things wouldn’t you think they would be called a “rockapolt”? Really, it was an understandable misunderstanding.

      A couple of years ago one of my daughters gave me a 1914 EK II as a gift which was a real surprise. This year my dear wife has charged me with the task of purchasing a gift for myself at the next gun show, which is being held tomorrow. We all know how much I hate buying something for the collection at one of the gun shows I attend. I’ll be honest; I couldn’t even type this last sentence with a straight face! Being a dutiful husband I shall acquiesce to my wife’s wishes and force myself to find a suitable gift. Sometimes you just have to be strong and tough it out.

      The weather report for this evening has snow in the forecast so I anticipate that after a long, sleepless and “silent night” the snow will “lay all about, deep and crisp and even”. No fears there as my friend Brian, who attends these local gun shows with me, is driving and he has a monster 4X4 truck so even if “the weather outside is frightful” nothing short of a blizzard will keep us from our destination.

      Now that I shamelessly used other people’s lines and lyrics I will close with these two thoughts.

      This Holiday Season please don’t drink and drive, however, if you are going to drink and drive please leave my name and contact information with your loved ones. I will be happy to give them a generous twenty-five cents on the dollar for your collection. The spirit of Scrooge is smiling down on me at this moment, I can feel it in my heart.

      “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night”.

      Regards
      Brian

      PS: there is a prize for those who find all of the Christmas lines and lyrics in this blog. The prize; I won’t do this again next year. Ho ho ho.





    3. Brian Wolfe
      Lately in the Books and Films section of this forum there have been discussions of the current movie, “Dieppe”, and the inaccuracies found by some of the members.  My first impulse was to make a list if all of the movies that I could remember back to the days of my youth and before where accuracy was obviously not an issue.  I soon realized that most would not relate to such movies as “Lives of the Bengal Lancers”, 1935 staring Gary Cooper; “Gunga Din”, 1939 staring Cary Grant; “The Charge of the Light Brigade”, 1968 with Trevor Howard (one of my favorite movies); or even “Waterloo”, 1970 with Rod Steiger.  Many of these won numerous awards yet are riddled with inaccuracies. 


       
      I looked to more resent movies such as “The Blue Max”, though it was in 1966 staring George Peppard.  In one scene of the German trenches it shows the soldiers awaiting the order to go over the top while holding British Number 4 Rifles first produced in the 1930’s equipped with the Number 9 Mk 1 bayonet.  This was the short bladed No, 5 (jungle carbine) bayonet blade welded to a socket similar to the 4 Mk 1 or 2 spike bayonet. These bayonets did not appear until after WWII, possibly around 1950.


       
        “Saving Private Ryan”, 1998 starring Tom Hanks.  A movie many World War Two veterans claimed was the most accurate depiction of conditions on the beach on D-Day.  If you are yet to see this film then do so if for no other reason than the landing scenes.  I suspect that if someone were to put out a remake with double the gun fire the same vets would proclaim it an even more accurate portrayal. Perhaps they would be correct.  I was really getting into this movie until Tom Hanks’ character disabled a German Tiger tank (if my memory serves) by firing his Thompson machine gun into the viewing port of the tank and killing the crew. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot!  That must have been the only German tank to be without its very thick protective glass in the viewing port.  I need to research German tanks to see is they were actually using a periscope-style viewing device or not.  Either way, good for you Captain John Miller (Hanks), too bad the rest of the allies didn’t know this trick; could have saved a lot of lives.


       
      “Zulu”, 1964 starring Michael Caine, is another of my all time favorite movies.  My biggest complaint about this movie, aside from the medals worn by Colour Sergeant Borne, was the presence of a female in the movie.  What were they trying to accomplish?  Appeal to the female movie viewer?  You could have marched unicorns barfing rainbows and pooping bunnies across the screen and it would have still missed the female market! 


       
      “Zulu Dawn”, 1979 featuring Bob Hoskins, Peter O’Toole and Burt Lancaster.  Another of my favorite movies.  I listed Burt Lancaster because if this movie was not flawed enough Burt Lancaster cast as being Irish is an insult.  His Irish accent is so bad it should be recorded in the Guinness Book of World Records. His range of emotion is slim to none and slim just left the room.  In one scene there is a line of what appears to be dismounted cavalry or perhaps artillery men using the Martini Henry Carbine.  The problem is that in some cases they are using what would appear to be the Martini-Metford carbine. The Martini-Metford did not appear before the 1890’s and the Battle of Isandlwana took place in 1879.


       
      Certainly bad acting has ruined many movies.  Charlton Heston comes to mind in such movies as “55 Days at Peking”, 1963 and “Khartoum”, 1966. Even now I have to remind myself that Moses was at neither location or in the movie.  Heston is another “one trick pony” of an actor in my opinion. 


       
      If I were going to nominate resent  movies on bad plot and worse acting the two top would be “Inglourious Basterds”, 2009 and “Fury”, 2014, both starring Brad Pitt; usually one of my favourite action movie actors.  The first one, overlooking the misspelled title, is a romp through some sort of fantasy Nazi-like world with lots of violence.  Better to go watch “Zombieland”, 2009 with Woody Harrelson.  There is just as much adventure and history is not insulted.  Is it true Mr. Harrelson is moving to Canada as soon as we legalize weed? Hmmm.


       
      Then there is “Fury”.  One of the best movies showing tanks in action bar none, however after one gets past the great tank scenes the rest is an insult to both the American and German soldiers.  The Germans are shown, in one scene, as marching down a dark road singing a song more like an army of Orks from Lord of the Rings.  Then they decide to destroy a disabled M4 Sherman with mostly small arms rather than the Panzerfaust carried by several soldiers.  Once the German casualty rate keeps going up it looks like the German commanding officer simply turns and walks away. Was he late for Oktoberfest or going to a BYOP party (Bring Your Own Panzerfaust) since the soldiers carrying the panzerfausts seemed to leave before or just after the officer.  Yet the German privates ,poor “basterds” (that was for you, Tarantino) keep attacking the tank with small arms.


       
      So the question stands, is accuracy in movies necessary?  Of course it is!  People who make movies and those acting in them are awarded all sorts of acclaim, provided the movie makes a lot of money.  Unless it was one of those Cannes Film Festival Best Foreign Film award things then it is hard to tell what they are trying to say or portray.  I’ll just say it, if I wanted to read sub-titles I would have bought the book. 


       
      Let’s look at a book and the movie about the same topic.  “How Can Man Die Better, The Secrets of Isandlwana Revealed” by Lieutenant Colonel Mike Snook verses “Zulu Dawn”, original story and screen play by Cy Enfield.  The book sets out the preliminary history that led up to the battle as does the movie, though less clearly.  Remember the movie had only 113 min. to make its point where the book had 302 pages.  Even so the movie could have been clearer.  All in all after you read the book you have an excellent knowledge of what happened as compared to the movie where you saw a large battle after a long and drawn out succession of scenes that only served to display the actors talents, or lack of talent in the case of a certain American actor trying to talk with an Irish accent (you know who I mean).  The impact of the movie battle was, of course, more poignant than the book due to live action and a sound tract.  Before I go any further it has probably come to you as it has to me that it depends upon what you are looking for in a historical drama.  It is difficult to pit action against the historical accuracy of a well written book. 


       
      It is my position that movie producers need to spend more attention to accuracy in story line as well as in the accoutrements that go along with a historically based film.  If all you are going to do is to produce an adventure loosely based on an historical event then you have simply churned out an adventure fantasy.  Even Game of Thrones is based on the War of the Roses, or so I have read; I don’t see it but that’s what I’ve read.  Rather than turn out a flawed historical farce then they should keep making films such as “Avatar”, 2009, staring...oh, who cares, it’s only a dammed fantasy movie anyway.


       
      I suppose the greatest benefit to historically based films made today with all of their flaws is to give people like us a challenge to point out all of those flaws.  I’ve been told that others also viewing said move are less than accepting when we voice our disapproval.  Don’t be too concerned, they just lack a need for accuracy and attention to detail.  Best you drive home after the movie, we wouldn’t want them to have to concentrate too hard on the finer details of road safety.


       
      Regards

      Brian


       
      PS: Yes, that mention of “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot” earlier was a movie title reference from Tina Fey’s, 2016 movie.  That title is quite appropriate as I wanted to say “WTF” after I watched this time (wasting) bomb.


       

       

       
    4. Brian Wolfe
      This is not the blog I had in mind for this month as may be evidenced by the lateness of its submission.  I usually have several ideas in the works with most needing more research and fact checking.  No doubt this surprised you since I almost never state references or even sources for my blog content.  My reasons are as uncomplicated as I like to think I am.  I do not aspire to be held up as an expert or even an authority on history or the collecting of historical artifacts.  I have never thought the amassing of large quantities of items qualifies me as anything much above an organized and selective hoarder.  There are, believe it or not, 212 drawers in the collection room which contains our medals collection and I assure you this doesn’t qualify me as an expert.  I use the term “our” when referring to the collection as my wife has added many specimens over the years, mostly from the Victorian era. Therefore, the collection is not “mine” alone and therefore the use of the term “our”.  Sorry to disappoint those of you who may be trying to psychoanalyse me; I have no other personalities, not that “they” have told me about, at least.  You’ll notice from the photo below that I am still working on the drawer labels. Oh, I see, Brian decided to ramble along for several paragraphs and attempt to pass it off as a legitimate blog. No, I tried that, in a manner of speaking, during my mid-term French examination in my first year of high school, I took all of the French phrases and words I could remember, arranged them into sentence-like strings and hopped for the best; it didn’t work.  On my final French examination, the questions of which were totally in French, I simply wrote, “I don’t read French, therefore I am unable to complete this exam.  Considering you, as the teacher, have never spoken a word of English during the year I must assume you will also be unable to read this note”, and signed the bottom.  I dropped French the next year, but picked up a working knowledge of Canadian French, the only true French a real Canadian should speak (check out any restaurant in Ottawa) during my years with a French Canadian construction crew.  I’ll bet Madame what’s her name would be surprised, perhaps a little shocked, at some of the language I learned on the job.  Viva Quebec!
       
       
      Now back to the title of this blog.  It is a reference to the closing scene from Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark and the warehouse where the Ark was finally sent for storage.  Indiana Jones, (you remember), that’s the theme music that plays in your head as you enter a military collectables show; or does that just happen to me?  Anyway, as I was working on the blog for April’s edition I needed some reference material and a really nice picture I purchase about a year ago, but where was it.  I looked through every drawer and cabinet here in the office (aka the “Home Office”) with no luck.  Where did I put the darn thing?  I know it is not in the collection room as I don’t store such items there, only a few reference books and they are all in order and accounted for. 
       
       
      It has been said that everyone has three lives; one that the public sees, one that the family sees and a third one, possibly the real you, that only you see.  I too have a dark side, a horrible little secret that I am about to share for the first time.  Not even in my past did I reveal this to the “shrink” during my evaluation; whom I might add found me quite normal, in fact he wrote in his evaluation that I am A.B.Normal, so there.  We have two large storage areas in our basement where, years ago, I started to store those items that I had no real place to keep them, papers, research material, pictures books and some collectables.  In the beginning I would mark “Bankers boxes” with “Brian’s Stuff” and store them away.  After a time I would mark subsequent boxes as “Brian”, then simply “B” and more recently I left the new boxes without markings as I am the only one to use these areas.  With doors closed it was a case of mind over matter, that is to say, I didn’t mind and it really didn’t matter.  So the image I have so carefully crafted as an organized and regimented person has been a sham all along. 
       
       
      So far I have been unable to find that picture I was looking for though I have just begun looking through the items in storage.  So far, along with several photos of military themes I have found a Special Constabulary medal in the original addressed box and a WWI named trio, but no picture.  Be assured the if I happen to run onto the Holy Grail or the lost Ark of the Covenant I will be sure to let you know.
       
       
      Regards
      Brian
       

    5. Brian Wolfe
      All of My Heroes Are Dead
       
      All of my heroes are dead and I have, for the most part, killed them.
       
      I’ve never been one to hero worship sports figures, those over paid adolescent jocks who actually think their political, environmental and economic opinions matter.  I find it strange that someone who hits a small ball with a baseball stick sending it over a fence then running around a diamond shape track stepping on pillows laying in the dirt is paid more than someone who will possibly be saving your life after a heart attack, a police officer or firefighter who protects you, your loved ones and your stuff or takes up arms to defend your way of life. I’ve seen the advertisements for the Fifa world cup which involves grown men again running around a field this time kicking a small white basketball and trying to get it into an extra large hockey net without using their hands.  The ball catcher/stopper fellow never seems to stop the ball, as far as I see in the commercials, and makes a futile dive in the relative direction of the ball, missing it by yards (or meters).  Then the fellow who kicked the ball last is mobbed by his team mates in jubilation.  What’s with that!  The net is the size of a school bus, how could you possibly miss?  At least in the game of ice hockey the net minder is almost as wide as the target net.  Often the net minder will fall on top of the hard rubber disk thing, which substitutes for a ball, to stop a score from being recorded against him.  Then the other team members who are close by will poke the goal tender with their curved bladed hockey spears until the referee, dressed in a zebra-like black and white striped shirt blows his whistle.  This is a signal that it is time for fisticuffs between the two teams. Sometimes the extra players the teams have brought along are allowed to leap over the fence, behind which they were sitting, onto the ice and join in the melee. After this some of the team members from both sides are given a “time out” and must sit on a wooden bench with the fellows they brought along to watch the game while their little friends get to continue playing. It’s all very confusing. These are great games for children but for adults, who often throw tantrums much like spoiled brats, it seems ludicrous to me. 
       
      I have stated that all of my heroes are dead, true enough, but I didn’t actually kill them (figuratively) myself; the culprit was the truth.  The other factor, for the most part, is that my interest lies with the Victorian era or more precisely starting with the Napoleonic Wars (pre Victorian) until the end of the Boer War (post Victorian).  Therefore, of course my heroes are all truly dead in that sense.
       
      It is not always the truth that “kills” heroes, or more accurately hero worship of historical figures.  A WWI Canadian hero, for me growing up, had always been Billy Bishop, the WWI leading flying ace.  A number of years ago there was a book written offering the mostly unfounded theory that he could not have actually shot down the number of enemy planes that he had claimed.  It was pointed out by some that it was ironic that a German had authored the book discrediting an allied pilot.  I have always thought it was ironic that a country that prides itself on its diversity would point out the nationality of the author.  All of this prompted the Canadian War Museum in Ottawa to erect a notice with the Billy Bishop display pointing out that resent critics had doubted these accomplishments.  Well done War Museum! As Canadians we seldom crap on our heroes but let someone else do it and we’ll be happy to take a stand were we don’t have to actually take a stand. We are positively and absolutely in support of taking a stand against taking a stand, unless that makes us look like we are taking a stand; then no comment. Or, “We’re totally against taking a stand against taking a stand, unless you are not upset, then we will strongly take a stand against not taking a stand”.  Please fill out the questionnaire below and we will attempt to come to a consensus, as our opinions may change without prior notification. Thank you for your understanding, unless you don’t understand then we apologize for taking up your time.  Have a good day, please call again.
       
      Then again if there are enough people who don’t like what the Canadian War Museum has to say with their displays, such as the bombing of civilian targets during WWII because it up sets the War Vets then they change it.  To Hell with the truth if it means taking a stand and we’ll be quite clear in not taking a stand, because we are not for or against it.  Facts are the facts and war is war, I would think the museum would have figured that out by now even if the public, desperate for heroes, wants to reject the truth. 
      Your dad (and mine) didn’t go out to kill civilians!  Here’s a shocking statement, neither did the German Airmen, in the beginning before Hitler decided to “punish” the British for bombing Berlin (arguments welcomed). There was no such thing as pin point bombing or taking out a target with surgical precision. You simply bombed the general area and trusted in a higher power to guide the explosives to the intended target.
       
      Heroes from the past seldom stand up to the scrutiny of time, the truth that was so carefully hidden suddenly shows these men for what they were; in most cases, human. The Duke of Wellington, Wolsey and Kitchener, all heroes of their day, or as a book I was just reading put it “Heroes in a time of heroes”, have had their darker sides. If we are to follow the Latin advice De mortuis nil nisi bonum (Of the dead, [say]   nothing but good), we sacrifice the truth.  If we are going to seek the truth then we must be prepared to live with what we find, no matter how distasteful. My heroes are still my heroes but now I see them as ordinary men doing extraordinary things that I would find personally impossible to accomplish.
       
      So let us lift a glass to the average man, among his kind have walked giants.
       
      Regards
      Brian
       
       
       

    6. Brian Wolfe
      An Adventure? Are you out of your mind?
      Part One.

      Summer was just about over, a summer plagued with drought conditions here in this part of Ontario, Canada, with crops being devastated and shallow well drying up. For us at the Grand River Conservation Authority it was equally serious. Fire bans angered the campers, even though it was as much for their protection as anything else. The cottagers who lease their lots from us around two reservoirs were more than a little edgy as the “lakes” receded from the shore line to a record distance as the water was depleted and not replenished by nature. Boat launching from the cottage lots was out of the question and in front of each property was now a border of what could only be described as mud flats. After the drought we had started into what may be described as the rainy season and with its arrival the severe heat of the summer was vacating our lands. It was a heat that was reported to have been in the low forties centigrade, if you calculate the high humidity into the equation. I tend to hate the high temperatures, being born in the North, in a place formerly known as Fort William. The rest of my family are “Southerners” and can’t understand my love of the Canadian winter, I don’t mind being the odd duck of the flock, after all they’re Southerners and you just have to tolerate them; an attitude that led to many, to say the least, awkward situations while I was growing up. I really like autumn and refuse to refer to it as “fall” because it is autumn and not the direction of travel when one’s feet are suddenly horizontal with one’s head when footing is lost on ice. I like the slap in the face from Mother Nature as she strikes your cheek with that fine frozen drizzle propelled by high winds just before winter sets in. Suddenly I am starting to see my family’s point of view, perhaps I am the “odd” duck of the flock, could they have been right all of these year; no that would not be logical...they’re Southerners.

      The story is not about my eccentricities, though that is exactly what an eccentric would say, it’s about collecting. That last statement probably surprised absolutely no one.

      A neighbouring Conservation Authority to the one I am so fortunate to work for holds a bi-annual outdoor antiques show. This is the Christie’s Antiques Show, named after the Christie Conservation Authority, situated near Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. There are hundreds of dealers and is attended by thousands and thousands of dedicated antiques hunters, collectors as well as a good smattering of curious and interesting characters. As always the plan was to arrive before the show opens to assure a parking spot close to the means of egress as after walking for miles searching for collectables one doesn’t need to walk an additional mile to their vehicle. The older I get the closer I want to be to that most welcome exit at the day’s end. It was up at 05:00 and get ready for the day’s outing. Remember that this was the rainy season and the forecast had not bode well for a dry excursion, but we had our rain gear out and were ready for whatever Ma Nature could throw at us. My dear wife, Linda, was born and raised in Perth Ontario which is an hour’s drive south of Ottawa, our nation’s capital the home of our Parliament, or as I like to think of it, “the gas works”. The location where Linda lived would make her a Northern girl; however, the number of years spent here in the South has had an adverse effect on her. Her tolerance to cold wet weather is about as low as it is toward my sense of humor, though she is a good sport about the latter. I have heard her referred to as “Brian’s long suffering wife”; though what “they” are getting at eludes me as her health is just fine, thank you very much.

      So there we were on our way to the antiques show, in the dark, in the rain with windshield wipers on full speed and visibility far from ideal. After an hour ‘s drive in relative quiet, the possibility of this being an ominous silence never seemed to dawn on me, though dawn itself was upon us. As we sat there in our van, awaiting the gates of the show to open, the storm seemed to increase in ferocity. Gusts of wind laden with rain hit the side of the van at a near forty-five degrees rocking the vehicle with a violence that only the most vengeful elements can muster. Lightning and thunder were all around and I discovered right there and then that breaking into a chorus of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody (you know, “Thunder and Lightning, very, very frightening”) was not to be received in the vein of humour in which it was intended. My dear wife did say the anymore Queen renditions from me and it would result in “Another one bites the dust!” Oh, and I suppose that Queen reference was funny? Suddenly, with the storm raging all around, there was an uneasy silence that only men know when they tell their wives that they can’t attend the ballet because the Stanley Cup playoffs are being played on that same night. Women, go figure. In fairness to the ladies I suppose one could say, “Men, go figure”, though that, of course, would not be my first choice.

      Not being one to learn from my mistakes, no matter how recent they may be (it’s a guy thing), I broke the silence with the suggestion that one should see this as an adventure. I offered the image of Gregory Peck’s portrayal of Capt. Ahab standing on the deck of the Pequod as he sailed her around the horn. I often like to think of myself as one of Gregory Peck’s heroic characters, though I am beginning to regret sharing that, oh well, I did say I have a tendency toward the eccentric. Linda offered that this was more like being on the bridge of the Edmund Fitzgerald. For those not familiar with Great Lakes lore this was a ship that sunk in a gale on 10 November 1975 in Lake Superior with all hands, no bodies were ever recovered. Check it out on the internet it is an interesting story, one made legend by Gordon Lightfoot in his song of the sinking of this ship.
      By this time the winds had subsided though the rain continued in a torrential downpour and finally after what seemed an eternity the show’s gates were open. We approached the gate, Linda safely sheltered under her umbrella and me in my rain coat and good luck Tilley hat in anticipation of what treasures we would uncover. After passing through the gate we walked over an earthen walkway that cut through a pond, so water was on either side as well as teaming down from the heavens. I could not help but feel a little like Peck’s Capt. Mallory in the 1961 movie “The Guns of Navarone” as they approached their goal climbing up the shoreline cliffs in the gale force storm. Strange, as you would think that I would liken our pending adventure to some Indiana Jones movie but I have always liked the classics and let’s be honest Indie will never be a classic, not as far as acting is concerned.
      Finally we entered the hallowed grounds of antiques heaven.

      ....to be continued.


      Regards
      Brian
    7. Brian Wolfe
      An Adventure? Are you out of your mind?
      Part Two.
      As stated in the last installment Linda, my wife and best friend, and I had paid our admission to the Christie’s Antique Show and were at last on our way to the happy (antiques) hunting grounds. Once we crossed the causeway the area opened up to reveal the affects the night long rains had on the dealers. The wide rows were blocked with large vans and trailers because many dealers had waited until morning to start to set up their booths. Normally something like this would anger me but given the hurricane-like storm that had raged all night and the steady rain we were now experiencing, who could blame them for this late start? Many of the dealers house their wares in tents, though these are mainly protection from the intense heat of the sun; that would not pose a problem today. Some had tents with sides and plastic windows of the same design you see at outdoor weddings, the sides prevent the rains from getting in but also impedes the customers somewhat. Many of the dealers who only have tables set up outside in the elements had cancelled and those who decided to brave the elements were now regretting it. Plastic covered the tables and looked much like the dew spangled web of a grass spider (Agelenopsis spp.) in early morning. Pools of water had collected anywhere there had been a pocket formed in the plastic sheets. In one case between the spokes of a ship’s wheel producing a circle of small triangle lakes and another, in the form or a rectangular pool that was bordered by a picture’s frame under the plastic. There was one poor lady who had left her wares out over night at the mercy of the elements and now had to deal with emptying out the water from dozens and dozens of bowls and vases. The positive aspect of this was that she only sold glass and ceramic ware so everything at least had a good wash. A few were not as fortunate because the winds had ripped the plastic away for the tables and the paper goods and photographs were in ruin. Anything made of cloth or stuffed items like bears and their ilk were saturated. I can only hope that these were able to be salvaged.
      Our immediate goal was to go directly to the pavilion, a permanent structure on the grounds, consisting of two adjoining show rooms, a refreshment concession and washrooms. It would seem that one of us was not willing to wait until we got to the show before consuming an extra large double, double coffee making the trek to the washroom of paramount importance. Yes, that would have been me, good sense and planning ahead not being a familiar state of my thought process. This would not have mattered anyway as we always go to the pavilion first as there is one dealer who always has a few medals and good quality black powder firearms for sale. I would like to point something out at this point regarding washrooms. The washrooms in the pavilion are always in good condition, however, when the show’s attendance it at its zenith the demand for the facilities out strips the availability of fixtures. It is for this reason the Conservation Authority brings in portable toilets and lines them up along the wall of the pavilion opposite to the entrance to the washrooms. Having worked for a conservation authority myself for some time now there is one thing I have learned. Water will always run down hill and if there is a depression in the ground the water will find it and fill it to the brim before continuing on to its destination at the lowest possible point wherever that may be. In this case that lowest point, at least for the time being, was where they had placed the portable toilets. These blue beacons of relief for the desperate victims of the extra large double, double coffees consumed, even though their spouses warned against it, were perched on wooden skids. I am sure this was to facilitate the placement and removal by the units by the waste management company. The water in this little lake was at least four inches deep judging by how little the skids were still out of the water, and that was not much. I could not help but think of later in the day when the skies cleared and the crowds arrived that there would be long line ups for the pavilion washrooms due to the inaccessibility of the portable toilets unless the conservation authority was about to open up a ferry service, though I suppose canoes would be a suitable alternative. Imagine if you will a long line of patrons, bladders filled to bursting, forced to wait their turn for relief with a large body of water adjacent to the walkway. Now think of a breeze causing a slight ripple on the surface of that pond. An exquisite torture that only Tomas de Torquemada could fully appreciate.
      Leaving behind the thoughts of the torments of those late arrivals to the show I’ll move on to the dealer I wanted to see here in the pavilion. As I have stated, more than once here on the forum, I tend to make purchases from only a few eBay sellers and some fellow GMIC members, in a couple of cases they are one in the same. With all of the scam artists and out and out fakes and reproductions out in the world today I suggest that all collectors find such suppliers, it will be well worth it. The dealer in question has supplied me with black powder firearms as well as medals over the years and his word is his bond. At this point in time at the show there were few collectors on the field so we had time for pleasantries which is a rare thing at this particular show, as the pavilion is usually a mad house of activity. I was looking to add a Snyder Rifle to the collection and I recalled that he had a couple for sale at the spring show. They had, as I feared, been sold but there was a British percussion rifle with bayonet and scabbard on display that caught my eye. I thought that it was an 1858 Artillery Carbine but he identified it as an 1853 Calvary Carbine, both look pretty much the same to my eye. The price was not too bad but there were some condition issues. In our conversation, remember there were few buyers at this point so we had some time, I mentioned that Linda has an interest in the War of 1812 as well as the Fenian Raids as do I of course. I’d have to say that my wife is much keener on these areas of Canadian history and I tend to concentrate on British Empire, Police and World War One history. The dealer pointed out a few condition issues I had missed and reminded me that this particular type of rifle fell between the two areas of our interest (1812 and 1866). Further, this was the rifle that was converted to the Snyder, which would be the rifle we should hold out for and then add to the collection. I think my point about sticking to a few select trusted dealers has been made.
      When I first arrived at the display I had noted a nice group of five World War Two medals with a boxed Memorial Cross (therefore Canadian) along with the supporting documents. I figured that I would purchase that since the rifle was not going to be secured. I turned toward the display case next to me and was about say, “I’ll take that group”, when I heard the voice of the fellow beside me as he said, to the dealer’s wife, “I’ll take that group”. I looked at the dealer and we both had to chuckle a bit as it was quite the coincidence. The collector turned and just inquired, “What?” I related why we found this a bit humorous and told him it must be his lucky day. He thought so too.

      There was a Canadian Decoration (CD) in a box, this is the Canadian Long Service Good Conduct Medal, and it was named to a Captain. I decided to purchase this one, not only because of the rank, which I didn’t have, but also due to the box which was different than any of the ones presently in the collection. The pavilion was staring to fill up so we decided it was time to brave the elements once again and besides the rains had slackened up a bit and it was now just what I would call a steady rain. The type of rain fall you like to see, one that would soak in rather then run off your lawns a gardens. Tough by this time the ground was pretty well saturated anyway. Just before leaving I took a last look at the rifle, you know how it is...just in case there was a change of mind. It was at this point the dealer asked me to wait a minute and he went to the back of his truck which was backed into the pavilion’s open side behind his booth. He pulled out an object wrapped in some dark cloth and started to unwrap it. He said that I might be interested in this and he that he had just purchased it. What he uncovered was a percussion cap dueling pistol. A British dueling pistol marked as being the Manton Patent. Joseph Manton was a very important gunsmith in the 1800s and his innovations greatly improved the dueling pistol, among his other achievements. This was the treasure of the day, an actual dueling pistol. These are usually in pairs (of course) and come in a fitted box. This was a single pistol from what was undoubtedly once a pair. As most who know me from this forum are aware I seldom disclose what I pay for items as I believe money is secondary to the artifact. If you can’t afford it, don’t purchase it. If you have the expendable cash then make the purchase, however, talking about what you paid for an item results in either bragging or whining, both I find distasteful, and crass. I will post the pistol in the appropriate area of the GMIC at a later date. The rest of the morning passed with no really exciting finds and we left just as the sun was starting to appear and the rains starting to recede. We were both pretty well soaked and with mud splashed half way to our knees as well we arrived back at the van to begin our trip home. Needless to say I thought the day was well worth the effort and not being one to just let it go (see part one) commented that the day had been quite the adventure. To this Linda just laughed and said, “An adventure? Are you out of your mind?”


      Regards
      Brian
    8. Brian Wolfe
      I often describe myself as slightly paranoid, which then seems to make others think I have some sort of philological issues.  I don’t believe I am being “watched” for example.  That would, in my opinion, suggest that I hold some degree of celebrity in my mind; this would also, if it were the case, indicate that I think that I am somehow a fellow of above average interest to others.  I must admit that if I were any less interesting people would fall asleep during a hand shake with me. Perhaps what I should say is that I strive to be more careful than average when it comes to making purchases and in believing everything I am told.  Purchases such as left-handed baseball bats and non-flammable candles may be easy enough to avoid.  However I have lost count of all of the collectables I have purchased and then a few days later wondered how I could have made such unwise choices. A few examples of what I allude to are, prices being far too high or items that really didn’t fit into my collecting themes. 


       
      The problem of knowing when you are being told something other than the truth can at times be difficult.  There are some physical signs which must not be taken on individual basis, such as someone rubbing their nose or excessive blinking of the eyes.  These so-called signs, on their own, can be explained away as having nothing to do with attempted deceit. Collectively such signs, along with other indications may be used, in law enforcement as an example, to accept the statement or doubt what you are being told.


       
      The most difficult “stories” to determine their truthfulness is when the person telling the story actually believes it to be the truth.  This and the manner in which the story is delivered and the interpretation of what has been said may end in one doubting the story as being the truth.  Two examples come to mind.  If you hear someone say that smoking can be bad for you and you need to take measures to avoid smoking, you may think of someone inhaling smoke from a cigarette, which fits the caution; or something else.  If you are standing too close to your BBQ and your clothing is starting to smoke then surely you need to take measures (stepping back) to avoid bursting into flames.  My second, and last example, comes from the television comedy, Saturday Night Live (SNL) that first appeared in 1975 which is famous for their rather juvenile humour appealing to the adolescent mind.  I became rather old and stuffy about 40 years ago and therefore stopped watching SNL.  One of the sketches involved a group of people telling an individual on a beach that “You can’t look at the sun too long”.  Most of us would take this as a warning and realize staring at the sun could be detrimental to your vision and not misinterpret this as you can’t get over the majesty of the sun, for example.  Of course the poor fellow being advised took the first interpretation with disastrous results.

      No, my retelling of this story is not very funny however, as has been said, “You had to be there to see it”.


       
      One of the stories  that has floated around guns shows and places where people interested in military history gather, at least here in Canada, is the topic of this blog.  Yes, I know it has taken me a long time to get to the point...as usual.  Why say something in a couple of dozen words when a plethora of paragraphs can achieve the same results? That’s a rhetorical question of course.


       
      The story is that one can turn an FN FAL C1,or C1A1, rifle from a semi-automatic to a full automatic weapon by inserting a piece of match book in the correct place in the internal workings.  This I have always held as being complete garbage. Any of those reading this who have served in the Canadian Armed Forces in the past and used the FN FAL C1 and the FN C2 please hold off on your hate mail until the end of this blog. 


       
      The Canadians used the FN FAL C1, a semi-automatic battle rife with the 7.62X51mm NATO round from 1953, being the first to officially adopt the FN FAL, until 1984 when it was replaced by the 5.56x45mm NATO C7 rifle and the C8 carbine both based on the American US AR-15.  The British and Commonwealth Nations used the same rifle as Canada but called it the L1A1. I have read that the rifle was commonly known as the FAL however in my area of Ontario at least, we refer to it as simply the “FN”. 


       
      Here’s where the claim of using the FN C1, inserting a piece of match book to turn it into an automatic weapon, becomes argument.  In each case where this has come up in the past I have tried to delve more deeply into this claim by asking if the service person is saying that with the insertion of a matchbook into the FN C1 they have changed it from a battle rifle (semi-automatic) into an assault rifle (full auto).  Without exception the answer is “yes”.  The problem in my mind, I have just recently discovered, is not whether you can modify an FN C1 with a foreign object to malfunction and discharge the weapon in rapid succession but have you actually “changed” this battle rifle into an assault rifle.  A basic definition of an assault rifle is that it is a carbine sized firearm using a large capacity magazine capable of sustained full automatic fire.  The FN FAL, even fitted with a large capacity magazine, falls short of being an assault rifle on two of the most important requirements that I have stated, even with the matchbook modification.


       
      To all of the servicemen in my past who have engaged me in this argument, and there have been quite a few, I apologize.  You are correct in that you can make an FN FAL C1 malfunction to fire several rounds in rapid, automatic-like, succession.  On the other hand I would offer the suggestion that this could be done with almost any semi-automatic rifle. 


       
      On the other hand (you knew there would be an “on the other hand”) to all servicemen in my past who have engaged me in argument you failed miserably in qualifying your claim fully.  You did not, I must repeat, did not, change this battle rifle into an assault rifle, and especially to one fellow who claimed to have changed the FN FAL C1 into the C2A1, the squad automatic weapon (SAW),  as the C2 has a much more robust barrel to withstand the heat generated by sustained rapid fire.  Some of our members might note that they have seen an FN FAL C1 with a selective fire option and you would be correct.  There were some FN FAL C1 rifles fitted with the selective fire option and used only by the Royal Canadian Navy to give boarding parties the option of a full automatic weapon without the weight of the C2A1.  


       
      In past blogs I have managed to attempt to prove and at times disprove some claims.  I’ve disproved some claims about the Battle of Crecy and the crossbow. We then proved the capabilities of the crossbow in experiments that were undertaken with minor casualties. These experiments also brought to light that during an apology for a range mishap the suggestion that, “It is only a cat”, is best left unsaid.

      I think we successively supported claims regarding the possibility of an accidental discharge of the STEN gun.  Now we have supported the claim that the FN FAL C1 can be made to fire with the insertion of a foreign object; yet without actually fully admitting that I was wrong. 

      It’s a win, win situation! 


       
      I will continue with my version of paranoia and look for myths that I can prove or disprove, while being on guard against my own poor purchase decisions. 


       
      The post has just arrived and I need to close now and open the shipment of prefabricated postholes I purchased on eBay.


       
      Ever vigilant


       
      Regards

      Brian


       

       

       

    9. Brian Wolfe
      Applying Lessons from History
       
      “I’m so smart” said Homer Simpson, “S-m-r-t”, spelling the word while bragging and at the same time showing the evident lack of intellect.  Perhaps not the best example of multitasking.  While Homer is the “star” of the popular cartoon sit-com this statement reminded me of the multitude of armchair generals surrounding us.  I don’t follow sports, on any level (thereby cementing my status as a “nerd”), but I believe “Monday Morning Quarterback” is the sports equivalent to “Armchair General”.  Both making calls well after the fact and with full knowledge the outcome.  Most so called sports game experts at least actually watch the game in question.  The history expert must draw his or her (yes these irritating people are not gender specific) from the works of others, some of which have as little formal training in the field as…well…me.  Making things worse are those who “were there” and then write histories that favour their own side or in an effort to further their own career and or egos. I won’t mention any names but I believe I have covered that Churchillian practice in an earlier blog.
       
      As many of our membership knows the battlefield can be a confusing place.  Perhaps understanding exactly what is taking place at the time is impossible.  Even police actions on what the public sees as a small operation can be a nightmare to organize and orchestrate.  Fire scenes, even without the smoke and noise requires the highest degree of organization.  Then, of course, there is most of the rest of us who would find it difficult to organize a one vehicle funeral procession.  From the days of two forces meeting on the battle field, knowing when to form line to take cannon fire and the order to form square to receive cavalry, to the battle ground of the 20th Century matters only got more and more confusing.  With that in mind let’s first look what was transpiring in France in May, 1940.  The allies were in full retreat from the Germans and heading to Dunkirk with the hope of evacuation to England. 
       
      Enter Generaloberst Gerd von Rundstedt of Army Group A, one of the leaders of the German forces.   As noted above the allies were in full retreat leaving what resembled a debris trail in their wake.  This “debris” included vehicles, artillery pieces, heavy machineguns and everything except light arms which, to the credit of the soldiers and their training, they had retained.  With the German army supported by the Luftwaffe prospects looked dim for the allies.  Suddenly the German forces were ordered, by their commander Generaloberst von Rundstedt, to halt.  At first history would record this as an order coming directly from Hitler but later it would be found that Hitler had merely confirmed the initial order issued by von Rundstedt.  Why would the General order a halt of his forces?   We may never know so let’s speculate; as that’s what armchair generals do best.  History may have taught the General that outstripping one’s supply lines plus your supporting infantry, thereby leaving the possibility of the enemy exercising a flanking maneuver, was a real threat.  We, here in the future, know that allies were devoid of any heavy equipment and armament, however that may not have been as obvious to the German leader back in the day.  I do think it safe to make the assumption that had the Germans not halted when they did the allies would not have had time to evacuate.  This assumption is made completely ignoring the sacrifice of the brave French soldiers who fought a rear guard action against the Germans further slowing their advance. That action and any other stalling actions by the allies, had the events unfolded in any manner as they did, may have indeed resulted in the evacuation taking place to one degree or another. 
       
      Stepping back in time, yet staying with the French, let’s look at some of the military decisions made by them based on of centuries of warfare. The French are an intellectual lot and have, through history been at the leading edge in the areas of art, science and military, to name a few.  Since the dawn of the medieval times, and even before then, the French have won and lost battles and even wars using massed armies.  The Hundred Years War, Franco Prussian War and the Napoleonic Wars, all employed massed armies, whether France was the victor or the defeated the lesson that massed armies was the “answer” to successful military tactics was driven home. This being the case it is no surprise that the response to The German Schlieffen Plan, a plan to encircle Paris at the outbreak of a war in the early part of the twentieth century was France’s Plan Seventeen.  Plan Seventeen was a plan where the French would attack, with a massed army, due east straight toward Berlin.  Due to the resistance by the Low Countries to the German advance and the failure of the Germans to implement the Schlieffen Plan with the suggested number of regiments the advance was turned well short of Paris.  This left the familiar two massed armies facing one another but this time with advanced weapons of war, i.e. long range rifles and not smooth bore muskets and rapid firing machineguns.  The result, the trenches of the First World War.  After centuries of massed armies meeting on the field battle something relatively new.  Sadly the practice of employing massed armies lingered on in the tactics supported by the leaders of the German and the allied militaries. Even though the static form of trench warfare was broken and the war ended in fluid tactics the French noted that the massed army of the Germans was stopped in its tracks by trenches, a form of fortification, so-to-speak.  Between the wars the French dug in along their frontier with the development of the Maginot Line.  Once again it would appear that an attempt was made, in this case by the French, to learn from the past.  Germany did, however, take lessons from the tactics used at the end of the War and developed the Blitzkrieg to great success. We know how well the Maginot line held up to the fluidity of “lighting war”.
       
      At this point, in wrapping up, I allude to the original theme of this series, “Can we learn from history?”  Looks like a rather hit and miss proposition at best, relying, like in so many campaigns through the millenniums, on luck.
       
      Regards
      Brian
       
    10. Brian Wolfe
      Are you kidding, no really are you kidding?

      Last Saturday one of the largest, if not the largest, outdoor antiques fairs was held near Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. It has been a few years since we were able to attend and most of the dealers have been the same for many years so it was like a family reunion with some that we’ve dealt with over the years.

      One of the first things an antiques dealer will tell you is not to refinish antiques as their value is lost once you do this. You will hear this mantra chanted over and over especially when they are looking to purchase the furniture dear old Aunt Betsy left you. Of course you “cave in” and let the dealer take the refinished ruined junk off your hands for a pittance and letting you feel that they have done you a big favour. Well pilgrim you’ve just been shafted. A walk around any antiques fair will prove me out as you pass display after display of finished and what I would call over finished antique furniture. At the show you will hear these same dealers preaching that it is better to refinish the antique so that you can live with it and use it the way to was supposed to be used. Two definite schools of thought I will admit. However I recognized a couple of these fellows and they talk out of both sides of their faces more easily than could the Roman God Janus. Thinking of ancient Rome I am all for S.P.Q.R. in business, which in this case stands for “Small Profit Quick Return” however some seem to think “buy low sell high” is always an honourable act, no matter what bovine excrement they are required to spread in order to close a deal. Contrary to what I seem to be saying, most of the dealers are honest folk but you know what they say about a rotten apple in the barrel.

      This is not really the theme of my article it was just an observation. The theme is all of the fakery that seems to be going on and sold by so-called reputable dealers under the excuse that they are not knowledgeable in this or that field when “called” on the authenticity of an item. This self same dealer will be waxing prophetic to a prospective client one second and then crying that they are as innocent as a new born lamp with the very next breath when trying to explain a fake being passed off as authentic. To be sure this is not the show to attend if you are looking for military collectables though there is always bit to choose from. The prices are usually well above market for medals, weapons etc. so this is a show to attend for other collectables. However, having said that, I found it interesting that so many dealers managed to be displaying fakes and replicas of mostly WWII German medals mixed in with some over prices genuine articles. It is almost as if they are pricing the authentic items in order to hold onto them and low balling the fakes. Low balling the price if it were genuine that is.

      I looked at a pair of Figure Of Eight handcuffs that the dealer said he picked up in Georgia last week (it is always “last week” with these guys) and he’d let it go for $200.00. I was polite and passed on the cuffs, however, if I had wanted such a pair I could pick them up for around $35.00 on eBay from the same fellow who makes them...in Georgia. The quality was not really bad though nowhere near that of Hiatt but the poor quality key is always a dead giveaway. I will post mine to show the difference someday (he said in embarrassment) along with a genuine key and you will see a world of difference.

      Another booth proudly offered a Police Helmet from the Metropolitan Police sporting a ball top for only $200.00. I think the other police collectors will support my claim that the Met has never used a ball top. Amazingly, though I suppose it should not have come as a surprise, the dealer claimed he had purchased it directly from the officer himself while on a trip to the UK. The officer must have really stood out among the rest of the police all wearing the familiar Metropolitan Cox Comb Style helmet. I wonder if his name was Benny Hill.

      Back in the early 1970s there was a flood of Indian swords offered for a pittance; these were over cleaned for the most part but they were authentic. Just after this Tsunami of Tulwars another “after shock wave” hit with thousands of newly made copies being offered in every flea market stall from Chicoutimi to Bella Coola (you’ll have to look those up yourself).

      Meanwhile back at the antiques fair.
      A fellow was looking at a curved sword that had been ground down as if sharpened before every battle ever fought with sword. The handle was wooden and the knuckle guard was an open style basket and quite well done. To enhance this treasure someone (I wonder who) had recently painted it gloss black. This was obviously one of those replica Indian swords that had the design on the blade removed, over-ground to change the curve a bit and then painted black. The grip showed no wear which should have made the perspective buyer wonder how the blade had seen so much wear while the grip was pristine as was the hand guard. I suppose it could have been a one of those miracles preformed by the Giant Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. The dealer played right along and mused as to how many battles the sword had been in and just how many men it had killed. Easy answer...NONE! The customer started to dicker on the price which had started at $300.00 and I couldn’t take any more and walked away muttering “Caveat emptor”. If I was overheard I’m sure the dealer told the customer that was the name of the style of sword.

      Most of the time I am pretty good at controlling my indignation and keeping my self-righteous rage in check. However I will admit that the reason I have not been to this show for a while is that I was banned from going for at least a year by my dear wife. We were at the show with some friends, formally from the UK. My friend Graham and I were looking at a drawer unit that I was interested in and I was seeing if the drawers were all in working order. The dealer said “It looks like we have a couple of yankers here” and I thought he said “s”. There was a bit of confusion as to whether I actually grabbed the fellow by the front of his shirt or not...just to make a point mind you. Graham, a quick thinking East Ender, was between us before anything else could happen, but I think I made my point. So now I keep my distance and regarding the over- priced fakes and I just think, “Are you kidding, no really are you kidding!”

      Let’s hear from the rest of the membership regarding their collecting experiences over the summer.

      Regards
      Brian
    11. Brian Wolfe
      2011 Wound Down and So Did I
      It seemed that as the year wound down I did as well and I am more than a little happy that a brand new year will start in less than a week. One might ask why the turning of a page on a calendar would make any difference. Good question and the answer is that most of the things that ate up my time are on a cycle concerning my “day job”. The other reasons varied from health to having more ambition than energy.

      My duties at the Conservation Authority are concentrated around looking after the rental properties which range from farm land to rental dwellings and cottage lots surrounding two lakes. This sets the number of tenants at around the 1,000 mark. Looking after the problems of the tenants and issues connected with these tenancies takes up a great deal of time and I am the only one out “in the field” to carry out what must be done. The Director of our section, a young fellow and all around great guy, was blindsided just after he accepted his position. In typical government fashion they have decided to cut back on costs by not replacing those who leave and he inherited two extra divisions. Of course this downloaded more work on the little people (of which I am a member). The stress on him was too great and now he has accepted a position with another government body.

      The new “victim” will be hired in the early months of 2012.
      In preparation for retirement, in two to three years, I decided to start running my cabinet shop as I did years ago with profitable intentions. A rare thing happened. Usually my good intentions end up producing little. This time the workload kept me going steady until the week before Christmas. Needless to say I am going to cut back on the work I take in. I like the extra cash and my collection likes it even more. To be completely honest, with a full-time position and a sideline business, that took on a life of its own, I managed to add a good deal of material to the collection but most items were unpacked when they arrived, and after an inspection, were simply filed away in drawers.

      Also, in preparation for retirement, I decided that I wanted a larger room for my collection that was something more than simply a warehouse so I started the renovation of three rooms. This involved renovating one for a study, one a storage room and the other a work room. The study is for my collection and a place to go and read what the family refers to as my boring manuscripts. I wanted all of the furniture to match so I built all new cabinets to store the collection. I’ll feature the new study on the main section of the forum early in 2012. The storage room, as well as serving as a pantry, holds my geological collection which is in several steel cabinets comprising of rows of drawers. The work room is to carry on with such activities as stained glass, finishing small cabinets and a photographic area with proper lighting. I am still putting the finishing touches on the storage and work rooms.

      One of the events of 2011 that didn’t take as much time as energy was my victory in the second battle with cancer. I hold no unrealistic expectations of actually winning the war against my old foe as it has stalked the members of my family for generations. It certainly gives me more respect for a massive heart attack in a few years. I would consider that to be golden bullet compared with the loss of the war to the big “C”. One must always look to the bright side and hope for the best. He he.

      So that was my 2011 in a “nut shell”. I doubt that 2012 will bring any more spare time but with cutting back in the shop it should leave me with time to spend on the GMIC, which is my home away from home. One should always remember that, like money, time is something that you will seldom find, if you need more you have to make it.

      Thanks to all who have suffered through this and other blogs I’ve penned, I will do my best to bore you throughout next year. I apologize if now I’ve made you hesitant to turn that next page on the calendar. HAPPY NEW YEAR!

      Regards
      Brian
    12. Brian Wolfe
      At the Crossroads Again!

      For the vast majority of collectors collecting is a passion, an obsession; some would even call it a sickness, however, those are the people whose opinions are completely unworthy of consideration. They are like vegans at a BBQ telling me that if I knew where that steak came from I would not eat it. First of all Ive been a butcher in one of my varied past work experiences so I know where meat comes from and second I tell them that I see myself as a non-practising vegetarian, I support their views in principal but shut up and pass me another hamburger...please (I always like to be civil if not completely supportive). Im also a supporter of PETA as long as that stands for People Eating Tasty Animals. My perfect meal would be steak and shrimp with BBQ chicken as a chaser just to be fair to the animal kingdom in covering all of the bases of earth, sky and water. Im nothing if not fair...oh yes, and civil. By the way I do know that chickens dont fly, or at least not very well.

      Now that we have eliminated the opinions of those annoying people who fail to understand us, be they friends or spouses, we can move on, even though, for some unexplained reason I am getting hungry.

      When we start out collecting there seems to be a never ending supply of whatever it is that we have decided to base our collection on. Take medals for example, British medals for the sake of this discussion. You go along building a collection until you have almost all of the common specimens then you realize that unless you are collecting to a particular regiment and want to continue adding to your collection the next level is going to be quite expensive. Going from a WWI Trio at around $195.00 to a Crimea 1854 Sebastopol and Turkish Crimea 1855 pair at $795.00 can take ones breath away. (Current prices provided by Tanya Ursual of Medals of War)

      So there you are at the proverbial crossroads of collecting (and the theme of this blog) with decisions to make. Do you take the jump to the higher level of collecting, continue on adding the same old/ same old or change collecting direction completely. Ive managed to come to this crossroads many times. Which way to go? Spend more money or change direction? Decisions, decisions, what to do? Lucky for me I can make such decisions easily as I almost always do both. Unfortunately Ive hit quite a bump in the road in that is as disastrous as the feared crossroads. No its not the advancing years of old age because I shall collect until my children pull the plug, pry the keyboard (eBay) from my cold dead fingers and nail the lid on the coffin. Actually my dear wife, Linda, said that one cannot let age determine how much we do or even what we do, within physical limits of course. Mixed Martial Arts is probably not in my future, nor Olympic javelin catching, but as to collecting its full steam ahead and the devil take the hind most.

      Im actually out of room in the study for any additions to the collection that take up much space. So I am left with a decision to make, sell some items (like thats going to happen), stop collecting (seriously?), take over a second room (a possibility, one is available) or mainly collect smaller items such as medals. I do have a good deal of drawer space left for medals in the units I have built for that purpose. On the other hand that other room is looking more and more inviting all of the time. As you can see even collectors who have been collecting for a good number of years still find that they are standing at the crossroads from time to time.

      I do have some advice for younger collectors, those who may still not be too deeply in debt to the dark side of collecting, to the point where their collection is no longer referred to as eclectic but rather just a jumble and bits of odds and ends.

      Always set goals.

      Ive always done this, however once a goal has been met and new ones started your collection will still become eclectic but at least not a hoard as might be expected of a hermit living next to the city dump. I set my goal for the British black powder firearms section of the collection starting with the Brown Bess and ending with the pre .303 cal. Martini Henrys. True somewhere along the line I did add a Bren gun and then an A1L1 FN, which still has Linda wondering how those last two fit into the collection. My only argument was that this section of the collection was a Brown Bess to Bren collection which was a great argument (to my way of thinking) until I purchased the FN then that hastily fabricated rational fell apart rather rapidly. Setting goals will assist you in staying on course and will end up costing less than collecting whatever comes along because you can afford it at the time. Its perfectly alright to have more than one goal at any given time within reason. For example you can be collecting British medals, German medals and cavalry swords at the same time but not also antique clown noses, left handed salt and pepper shakers and high compression muffler bearings. Its just too much. Keep it simple and focus.

      Costs should not set the goal of a collection.

      Dont let costs be the determining factor in the area you are collecting. By this I mean dont get to a point where there are still a good number of specimens left to collect but the price is getting too high. Still collect but not as much; were looking at quality/rarity verses quantity. Just because a Military Cross is a lot more money than a BWM should not be the only reason for changing direction. Sure if you are ready for a change then do so but if it is based on the cost then you need to slow down and add a new specimen when you can afford it and dont purchase other material at the same time.

      Research, research, research.

      Part of your collecting activities should be researching and studying the subject of your chosen field of collecting. There is a wealth of information out there in the form of books and on the internet. Take full advantage of them. Nothing is worse than a fellow with a large collection yet lacking in the knowledge of the history of the items themselves. Studying the background of the item in question will not only build a more interesting collection and a more interesting you but will help to ease the temptation to add more and more lower end items which prevents you from adding the more expensive and crucial items. Soon the addition of knowledge will become as crucial to your collection as the items themselves. Warning: While I said you will become more interesting it will probably only be so to fellow collectors. Dont expect the plebeians to understand.


      Beware the Card.

      Never and I mean never collect on the card. Credit cards are great and as long as you pay them off monthly everything will be alright. The pit fall is (and the banks are counting on this) if you purchase an item on the credit card then make the minimum payment at months end because there is something else you want you are dancing on a mine field and chances are that you will end up with the nick-name stumpy; a fellow who is always just short of being able to pay the credit card bill.


      Disposable income.

      This is a tough one and ties into the next and last bit of advice. What is disposable income? Thats the money you have left over after EVERYTHING ELSE in your life has been paid off for the month. Its money you can afford to tie up, perhaps for the rest of your life. True you can always liquidate your collection when the need arrives, if it arrives, but at what loss. Youre probably making most of your purchases at market so when it comes to selling you will most likely be looking at wholesale values. If you need to dump the lot as soon as possible you will not likely get much more than twenty-five cents on the dollar invested. Only a fool thinks that everything he or she touches turns to gold, most of the time when you need to sacrifice a collection what you will realize out of it will be more akin to something you would spread on a garden. A sad but true fact of life.



      Theres more to life than your collection.

      I do not want to sound like one of, or both of, your parents but far too many collectors end up spending their limited free time on the collection rather than on family and friends. Collections come and go and so will family and friends if you ignore them long enough. This is getting preachy but better you hear it from me than a divorce lawyer.


      In summary.

      Set some goals, stay the course and remember that there will always be more material out there to collect than there is money to purchase it. Most of all dont forget what is really important in life.

      Happy collecting.
      Regards
      Brian
    13. Brian Wolfe
      Avatar names; Why?

      What I would term as odd or bizarre human behaviour has always interested me and the search for why people act as they do has not only fascinated me but at times eluded my powers of comprehension. The person who said that there is nothing as funny as a barrel of monkeys obviously was not, at the time, situated in a room full of people. Since politics and religion are subjects non grata here on the GMIC, and rightfully so, I will resort to the plethora of other subjects that I personally find irritating; subjects upon which I obsess.

      Straight off I will say that I do not tend to keep up with modern lingo as used in today’s internet communications. Using the letter “n” to represent the word “and’ or ISO (in search of), IMO (in my opinion) and BRB (be right back) simply seems as foreign to me as putting maple syrup on your French fries (chips for those of the British persuasion).  This brings me to today’s rant, so get ready as this is probably going to ruffle some feathers.

      Why do people insist on using avatar names? For the most part I am talking about avatar names on the internet in general, You Tube, as an example rather than a forum such as ours. Since I have admitted that I do not keep current on modern terms perhaps I just don’t know what the term avatar means.  Upon looking it up I found that in Hinduism it is a manifestation of a deity or released soul in bodily form on earth: an incarnate divine teacher.  Well, this could not be the definition I am searching for as we are not allowed to talk about religion here and from some of the comments on the internet I can ascertain they not likely come from any form of divine teacher.  The next definition given was from the computing “world” as, “an icon or figure representing a particular person in video games, Internet, etc”. Ah, there we have it a suitable definition from which to work; something that represents a person on the Internet. 


       
      Of course I knew this ahead of time but why say something in a few words when a whole paragraph will do (besides I am paid by the word). Again I will reiterate that I have no problem with avatar names here on the GMIC as we do have very good controls regarding ungentlemanly behaviour.  Over the years we have seen a few members “cautioned” as to their conduct.  However, on the Internet in general that seems to be exception rather than the norm.  I never use an avatar name whether here or commenting on the Internet because if I am willing to put something down in writing I am will to stand by what I say.  If I am incorrect in my convictions I do stand to be corrected followed by my apology or expression of gratitude whichever is appropriate. 


       
      On the other hand I don’t see myself as an offensive sort of fellow, I have never found pleasure in kicking a cat for example, not even unintentionally.  There was an incident a number of years ago when one of our daughters arrived home late from her part-time pizza shop job sans her door key.  She decided that sleeping in the car was a poor choice and rang the door bell to awaken someone to let her in.  This resulted in my rushing through a darkened house to let her in before she woke the whole household. I should mention that we had a cat; a cat whose name evolved in proportion to his girth to the point where the kids aptly renamed him “Fat Tony”.  Fat Tony was fast asleep, his natural state when not gorging himself on Fancy Feast, or some other over-priced cat food. Unknown to me this lump of a cat was transfixed, due to his preponderance, to the floor in line with my path of travel. My left foot apparently just missed him however my right foot made contact with the force of a footballer (soccer player for those of you of the North American persuasion). 

      As a science lesson this is an example of Newton’s First Law of Motion, sometimes referred to as the Law of Inertia, “an object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force”. Just to clarify, the “object at rest” and the “unbalanced force” represent the lethargic and comatose Fat Tony. The “object in motion” being yours truly. Imagine, if you will, a football player taking a penalty kick or attempting to kick a field goal (depends on your definition of football) and the ball is replaced by an anvil.  Suffice it to say that the object in motion, in this case, still stayed in motion though transformed from a vertical state to a horizontal one in a split second.  Thus ends the science lesson and the answers the question as to why you never kick a cat, or at least not Fat Tony.


       
      To return to the question at hand, why do people use avatar names?  Do they feel more at ease giving an opinion and if so what is it about expressing their ideas that frightens them.  Is it giving free range to rude and crass people?  Well, sometimes. Perhaps it much the same as using an avatar picture, such as the Canada General Service Medal’s reverse that I use.  It hints that I am a Canadian and it is a bit of fun, after all life without a little whimsy would be most dull. At times I find it awkward to respond using the avatar name as it is just too impersonal, therefore I usually simply make the response and live with the feeling that I have failed to act in a polite manner by not starting with “Hello X2bKl9”, or whatever their avatar name happens to be.  I would like to see the use of a first name in the closing of an entry or response with “Regards (your first name here)” as an example.  At least a reply could be made to what would appear to be a real person and not some sort of Bot.  I do hope I used that Internet term for Robot correctly, in today’s terminology I run the risk that this is somehow an offensive term.  If so I apologize.


       
      By now you must have realized that I had nothing for this month’s blog but I hope this amused you somewhat and gave some folks pause to think.


       
      Regards

      Brian (a real person not an Internet Bot).


       

       

    14. Brian Wolfe
      Because I Say So.

      We hear a lot about provenance here on the forum and more so on television in conjunction with antiques shows. Provenance, being the history of an object proving its authenticity, its pedigree so-to speak. So often we see photos alongside medals that we are told belonged to the subject in the photo but is “because I say so” really provenance? It would, of course, be impolite to suggest that a fellow member who was claiming, in this case the photo and medals belonged together, was taking a good deal of liberty in assuming that we should simply take his or her word as gospel.

      Of course when a photo and a group of medals have been in that person’s family and handed down from generation to generation it would seem to imply authenticity. However, I have in my collection a couple of very clear photographs of military men to which I have added the corresponding group. If these were to be passed down for a couple of generations the authenticity of the photos and the medals would not change. That is to say, the passage of time is not necessarily an indication of provenance just because they had always remained within one family. Most certainly if the soldier in the photo were wearing those very medals and especially if there were some corresponding damage to the medals reflected in the photo we would assuredly be “sold”.

      Speaking of being “sold”, the whole issue of provenance becomes rather critical if one were about to slap down a good deal of gold doubloons on the barrel head in order to procure a highly desirable group of medals. This makes “because I say so” provenance worth about half of what a share of Nortel presently brings. So, keep this in mind as I finally get around to the real story of this episode of News from the Home Office.

      My wife and I were returning from a trip to Owen Sound, Ontario, Canada and a visit to the Billy Bishop Museum which is situated there in his home town. We had taken one of the many secondary roads south which winds through scenic farm lands and stunning vistas. We came upon a sign advertising a flea market ahead. The market was in what at first looked to be a farmer’s field and comprised of fifty of sixty vendors. When we pull into the grassed parking area we could see that this was in fact a rural municipality’s sports field with a picnic pavilion and refreshment stand which was open. In case you are not familiar with what a picnic pavilion is, think of a barn with no sides, just a roof and a concrete pad as a floor. The refreshment stand is self explanatory and I am sure we have all seen them and even purchased their questionable food that makes one both wonder where the health inspector was when they opened for business and if we do eat the food will be discover whether the old saying “that which does not kill us makes us stronger” with be proven true later in the day. After inhaling a couple of hot dogs, speaking of tempting the fates of intestinal disorder, and a half warm Pepsi we toured the vendors’ tables. There is not usually much to be had at these sorts of fairs, sometimes a few small badges or military buttons. Most of the dealers had no interest in such matters and probably wondered if the buttons marked “US” had a corresponding button worn by the enemy stamped “THEM”. Sorry, bad joke, consider it punishment for having read this far. One of the dealers was an elderly lady with an array of the usual two dozen salt and pepper shakers, most of which had suffered the loss of their soul mates and were now facing the world alone, as well as old glass ware that had seen better days and were probably salvaged from someone’s trash. However among the coffee cups sporting semi-humorous pictures and captions and chipped tea cups I spotted a framed document. The glass was grungy from years of neglect but the document was in good shape. It was for the 1937 Coronation of George VI and had been presented to The Reverend Canon W.M.H. Quartermaine and would have been awarded along with the Coronation Medal. What a great little find, and the only one of the day. The lady didn’t want a lot for it as she had no interest in it and informed me that she had purchased it along with several other framed pictures and dishware at an estate sale she had attended earlier that summer.

      She then said that she had something else that she wanted me to have to go with the document. Upon producing a battered sugar bowl with lid I was sure this gray haired old sweetheart was about to con me into purchasing the very sugar bowl used to store disembodied spirits by Prime Minister Mackenzie King (look it up). She removed the lid and tipped the bowl and out slid the medal itself. It was still in very good condition along with the ribbon and a pin which was used to affix it to the good Reverend’s jacket. Apparently the medal had been packed in the sugar bowl in some news paper and she had discovered it when she had remover the paper. There was no sales pitch she simply wanted me to have the medal and to show me where it had been stored.

      Now in my collection reside the document and the very medal worn by The Reverend Canon W.M.H. Quartermaine. As to the provenance, of course it is genuine. Upon what do I base this opinion concerning the provenance? Well...it’s...”because I say so”.

      Regards
      Brian
    15. Brian Wolfe
      Can we learn from history?
       
      In my last blog we looked at the battle of Kadesh (1274 BCE) where classic errors were made and perhaps the first opportunity for those following after to learn.  The Egyptians left large gaps between their divisions allowing the Hittites to exploit those gaps and move on the command HQ.  There were, of course, perfectly good reasons for the gaps between Egyptian divisions, all of which were covered in my last blog.  What may have not been as clear was the first recorded tactical error by the Hittites. Their exuberance to exploit the gap between the Egyptian divisions resulted in their chariots out-pacing the infantry and therefore supporting troops.  With the Hittites slower chariots surrounded by the Egyptian infantry and their faster deadlier chariots they were destroyed. 
       
      Jumping ahead 1,300 years (give or take a few decades) to 9 CE we look at the three Roman Legions, the 17, 18 and 19th, under Publius Quinctilius Varus in the Teutoburg Forest of Germany for our next example. Following earlier victories over the Germanic tribes a young man named Arminus was sent to Rome as tribute.  He was educated as a Roman and became a trusted confidante of Varus. If this were a plot of a movie we would think the outcome of this alliance between Varus and Arminus was obvious.  Too bad Russel Crowe wasn’t there to advise Varus, but history didn’t have two millennium to wait for benefit or Mr. Crowe’s wisdom.
       
      As a little background information we should note that the brilliance of the Roman military machine was firmly rooted in maneuvers involving two armies meeting in open fields, a luxury not afforded in the close confines of the dense forests of Germania.
       
      We now find Varus leading his legions in a column miles long weighted down by equipment and baggage trains along with the usual camp-followers.  The Romans were confined on both sides by forest and forced to trudge along mile after agonizing mile of seemingly endless wilderness.  Even the most inept armchair general will tell you this is a classic example of a need for advanced as well as flanking scouts.  Varus was not a complete fool (at least not a “total” fool that is) and indeed did employ both advanced and flanking scouts. The error was that these scouts were from “loyal” German troops recommended by the equally loyal Arminus. Those “loyal” Germanic flanking scouts quickly disappeared, moving ahead to join their tribesmen in the ambush ahead, as did the advanced scouts.
       
      The location for the German ambush was carefully planned with the area being even more restrictive than had been the case prior to this. On one side there was a steep incline while the other side of the trail was an impassible swamp.  This allowed the Germans to fire on the Romans from both flanks while the different elevations assured that one side was not in direct line of fire from the other.  Added to this a severe weather front moved in soaking the Romans and their equipment increasing the weight each Roman was carrying by more than double. The Romans couldn’t advance up the incline which was also fortified, they couldn’t attack the swampy ground as doing so would find them mired in the soft ground and easy targets for the Germans.  Retreat was blocked by their own baggage train and transport so continuing along the trail was the only option.  An option that proved even more disastrous than holding their ground.  Due to the rough ground and a continuous rain of missiles the Roman column was not all moving at the same speed.  This left gaps in the column which the Germans were quick to exploit. In the end this led to the ambush by the German tribesmen crushing the three legions.  Many books, the internet and even recent documentaries have stated that the Romans were lost to a man.  Research into original documents from that time by real historians has found that several Romans did survive the massacre and found their way back to Roman territory.
      The Emperor Augustus has been said to have uttered in frustration, “Quintili Vare legions redde!” (Quinctilus Varus give me back my legions!).  Looks like not even the most powerful man in the world of the time could command the dead.  Documentaries have also stated that the Legions Eagle standards were lost forever, however there is evidence that some if not all of the lost eagles were recovered.  The series “I Claudius” states that the Germans were eventually conquered, however even though there were some punitive actions taken against the Germans, probably the reason for the recovered eagles, the German territory east of the Rein was never conquered. 
       
      Before The National Enquirer, the yellow journalism of the tabloids and television documentaries perverted historical facts and research in favour of sensationalism and profits history was researched by serious historians. Military leaders have been schooled in tactics of the past and cautioned about the errors of those who came before.  Leaving gaps in your columns to be exploited by the enemy was to be avoided while watching for and exploiting the same errors by your opponents was of paramount importance.  So, don’t leave gaps in your column and don’t out-pace your supply and support troops…sound advice…right?
       
      There are many examples of military errors, far too many for a blog.  As well there are good examples of military leaders learning from history, applying what they have learned, only to find things didn’t go as planned.  In my next blog we’ll look at a couple of examples of this from the 20th century. 
       
      Thanks for reading my blogs.
      Regards
      Brian
       
       
       
       
    16. Brian Wolfe
      As time passes I find things that were considered common place have changed while I was distracted by life in general.  At one time I would question why I was here and what my purpose for being was.  In other words, I was questioning my existence and place in the universe.  This, of course, was a deep philosophical question. Today as I age I find the question remains the same but seems to arise every time I enter another room.  Now no longer a deep philosophical question it has become a matter of, “I know that I was looking for something when I entered the office, but I’ll be dammed if I can remember what it was.”  The other day I returned from picking up some groceries and said something regarding the cashier to the effect that “the girl at the store was checking me out and...” In the early part of my life this beginning of the statement might have raised an eyebrow by my wife as to why a girl was checking me out.  Now days such accidental double meaning statements go unnoticed as she knows no “girl” in her right mind would bother to “check me out”.  In a way today is a lot less stressful albeit much harder on my male ego.  On Family Day (a holiday here in Ontario in February) I walked into the living room and simply inquired as to what the day’s weather was like.  A conversation starter; nothing more.  Four of the six daughters and sons-in-law took out their

      I-phones and announced the state of the present weather even though a glance out of the front window would have given them the same information; how things have changed. I am definitely not a big fan of change, finding comfort in the familiar, and the linear.


       
      When I was a youth I liked to visit the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM) as often as possible.  There I could lose myself in row upon row of displayed items from Archaeopteryx to Zacanthoides, Archeology to Zoology.  Fossils and dinosaurs displayed row upon row all ever so neat and carefully labeled.  The Ancient Roman section had tables in two rows on which was displayed hundreds if not thousands of coins mounted on slanted bases and covered with what would best be described as  long glass tent-shaped panes of glass in frames which resembled table mounted green houses.  Again row after row all neatly labeled.  I used to like the section with animals all prepared to the highest level of the art of taxidermy and the Indigenous Peoples exhibit displayed with their tools and in a setting that looked like their camp sites.  I’m sure these were artistically made mannequins though I told my brother that they were indeed real stuffed people. To this I added that I saw a sign stating that they were looking for an example of a “little brother” to stuff and I had entered his name as a candidate.  I recall this led to several sleepless nights for him and my mother, and no end of satisfaction for me.  My poor mother; I must have been an intolerable child.


       
      This was my world, at least when I could arrange to be there as it was several hours from the town where I was doomed to reside.  It’s located in a cultural wasteland where academia was routed out and burned at the stake for the witchcraft it was.  Of course this was simply the observations of a child to his surroundings.  As an adult, looking back through the haze of time, I realize that no one actually routed out academia to burn at the stake; they would have much more likely thrown the concept into a burlap bag and drowned it in the river followed by crazed dancing around a huge bonfire. 


       
      However I do digress; a privilege claimed by and reserved for the elderly. 


       
      A number of years had passed from my last visit to the ROM caused by marriage and raising a family and other less worthwhile activities.  When I once again paid a visit to my former sanctuary the place had undergone a transformation.  I suppose that I should have not been surprised as I too have not remained the same person I had been decades before.  In place of the neat rows placed in displays one room adjoining another in a manner not unlike some series of above ground catacombs was something I was not prepared to see.  It now looked like a department store-front with displays akin to the talents of a window dresser.  In one large case there was exhibited medieval armour alongside an example of textiles from the Ming Dynasty, on the floor of the display rested a large skull of a carnivore from the Cretaceous Period and to add insult to injury a pair of muskets rested against the skull. If Father Time had cleaned out his basement then this could very well be the dumpster into which he was depositing his junk.


       
      It was evident that what has happened is that they are now catering to a different target audience.  Being situated on the campus of the University of Toronto they most likely were geared in the past to the academia of the University both staff and students.  Now they are aiming at a wider market and with that new direction they need to entertain as much and possibly more than just educate.  I don’t have a real problem with this except at times I think the museums have gone from the idea of the grey haired old professor haunting the galleries to Sponge Bob Square Pants leading the children in a song about passing wind. 


       
      I suppose this had to come to pass considering the government cut backs in every facet of society where they used to fund these organizations.  The bottom line is now foremost, through necessity; accountants and bean counters before curators.  Are these organizations really turning into profit mongers I pondered and if so, what effect do they have on today’s youth.


       
      My last visit to the ROM, after my initial shock, didn’t seem as much like an alien environment as it had initially.  Perhaps it was change itself that was bothering me, clouding my perception and rational.  While in the paleontology section my wife and I witnessed something that nearly brought me to tears of elation.  There a little girl with her parents was looking at a display of trilobites when she said, “Look, a Greenops boothi and there’s a Phacops rana.  Did you know that in Latin rana means frog?”  I wanted to ask if this kid might be up for adoption!  Perhaps things hadn’t changed all that much after all.  There were still little nerds in attendance and the old geezers haunting the galleries were still there, except now that old geezer it was me.  So the need to pay attention to the bottom line has caused museums to be profit mongers through necessity but still educators through desire.  While the asymmetrical displays of specimens and the seeming helter skelter of topics made more sense this time, when I got home I went straight to the study, made some more labels and realigned my medals into even straighter lines than before.  Museums may still be places of education and surrounded by chaos but my world remains regimented and linear. 


       
      Somehow there is comfort in that.


       
      Regards

      Brian


       
    17. Brian Wolfe
      Collecting More but Enjoying It Less?

      Up before dawn and after a stop at Tim Horton’s coffee shop back on the road for an hour’s drive. Arriving at the “Tim’s” located in the town or city of your destination, after all, Canadian’s plan their trips in accordance to the location of a handy Tim’s. Fresh coffee in hand you pull into the show’s parking lot and at this early hour there is almost an unlimited choice of parking spaces. Dawn has broke and you find yourself in line, hot coffee in hand to help fight off the cold chill of the morning, awaiting the minutes before the doors will be flung open allowing the flood of eager collectors and hunters to stream in.

      Yes, it’s Gun Show Day down Canada way!

      An auditorium filled to capacity with dealers and enthusiasts alike. There are guns, swords, knives, medals and sundry equipment in abundance. People talking to people of like interest and you are able to actually pick up an item, unlike the on-line auction houses wares you may have “won”. With a bit of luck and a fair bit of haggling you may be heading home in a few hours with a new treasure to add to your, collection room, war room, Rambo room or study, whatever you call your Sanctum sanctorum.

      Gun, militaria and medal shows are tactile and social events filled with sights (no pun intended) and sounds ranging from laughter to argument. Deals made, information and goods exchanged. They are the market places of old where customer met wares, the trading centres so important to the development of our countries and our way of life.

      For the past decade I have more or less turned my back on shows opting instead for the ease and convenience of the internet based auction houses such as the famous or infamous eBay. There are others though this is the one I have carried out business with. It hit me a few days ago that while I was collecting a lot more I may, in fact, be enjoying it a lot less.

      My mind got to wandering, which it is prone to do now that I am older, of the days when I would go fishing with my childhood buddies. On the lake in our canoes before dawn, listening to the loon song wavering over the still water. A chill in the air and the water feeling like warm tea to the touch; the joking about one of the crew having once stepped in a soft spot in the muskeg and plunging through to the putrid water below, up to his waste, while on portage. Some days the fish would bite and some days it was the mosquitoes, such is the angler’s world and we wouldn’t have had it any other way.

      Then the years passed by, we all got busy with families and careers, some with wives and girl friends, etc. Some got side tracked with divorces when wives met girlfriends. It’s all in the timing you know. Now almost all of my boyhood friends are no longer with us, residing in a much hotter place down below us. In Florida! What were you thinking? Now I go to the supermarket and if I want fish to I pick from a vast array of different fish, both fresh and frozen. I never fail to reach my “quota” and I never provide a snack for those vampires of the insect world. I also don’t talk about the experience as it has become mundane. There is no bragging rights or accusations of exaggerating the length of a fish taken two years hence; and no defending that exaggeration - as we all know it was indeed much shorter than now claimed.

      Eventually my mind did return to the topic at hand and I wondered if what has happened to my pursuit of that monster bass, pickerel (walleye), pike or lake trout has happened to my collecting. You don’t have to believe this but about four months ago I swore off eBay and any other on-line auction and started once again to attend miltaria and gun shows. To my amazement the thrill of the “hunt” has returned. The crowd has changed somewhat. The majority are a lot younger and the “old boys” with their gruff exteriors and ample girths have been replaced by...(now this is depressing)...me. The last show turned up a nice little flintlock pistol and I have reacquainted with some of the dealers who are still attending. There is a trade pending involving a Brown Bess and my surplus collectables which would never have happened on eBay.

      This may not be the way to go for all collectors, especially the younger collector, trying to build a collection and especially if on a shoestring budget. I’m not bragging but I’ve built a good base collection and I no longer feel the need to add great qualities to the collection. So I am content to pay a bit more and collect fewer items of a bit higher quality. Many of these items are not available on the internet auctions and it is always best if you can handle collectables that are more expensive and rarer.

      So for me, I am now collecting less and enjoying it more, a lot more.

      Regards
      Brian

    18. Brian Wolfe
      Collecting the Periphery – Part 4

      In February 2012 I started on a series of blogs dealing with the collecting of items that didn’t really fall within the usual collecting parameters of military yet where on the fringe, or periphery, of that field. Originally I thought to begin with The London County Council (LCC) School Attendance Medals. I will admit that this was the only topic that came to mind that fit the category for which I was aiming and therefore was intended to be somewhat of a “one off” entry. After looking through the collection, in drawers long forgotten, I found several examples that fit into the area of collecting the periphery. So I decided to begin with some of those confident that I would soon exhaust the subject and armed with the LCC School Attendance Medals as my back up I waded in.

      Some of the topics touched on in past blogs were, Japanese Red Cross Medals, Women’s Voluntary Service Medals, Life Saving Medals and Germany’s Mother’s Crosses, to name a few. It seemed that the more I dug around in the collection the more topics I found, always shoving the School Attendance Medals to the back of the class, so-to-speak; which coincidently is where I found myself for most of my formal education. So almost two and a half years later I am finally getting around to my original subject;

      “The London County Council School Attendance Medals”.

      A standardized education system was introduced to Britain in 1870 in the form of an official Education Act. With this came the requirements for the creation of School Boards. Prior to this time the education of British children was pretty much a hit and miss proposition with attendance being non-compulsory. With the use of child labour and the need for families to bring as much funding into the home as possible the value of an education, any formal education, was seen as an unnecessary luxury. The government of the day saw a good basic education for all children would produce citizens who could read, write, and understand the history, geography and, to a point, politics of the country. Then, as today, it was recognized that an educated population was more beneficial to the country than merely an uneducated population mainly suited to manual labour. Though this was to prove to be somewhat a double edged sword as better educated workers began to form trade unions and demands for better work conditions and higher wages were put forward, sometimes violently so. I will be posting a short article on the General Strike of 1926 in the main section of the forum under the British Police section at a later date.

      Some of the regulations set out by the Education Act of 1870 besides the standardization of the education system were, mandatory attendance with non-attendance being punishable by law and a grant system for the running of the schools based on daily attendance.

      I believe that here in Ontario Canada the grants were still based on daily attendance at least until the 1950s and possibly the 1960s, when this was replaced by an “enrolment system” whereby as long as you could drag your little monster to school and enroll him or her the government would fund the school. Attendance was still mandatory though there was the option of “Home Schooling”.

      Returning to the 1870’s; it was decided that there needed to be a reward system aimed at the children to encourage daily attendance. Many school boards implemented a reward system where the child would earn picture cards for perfect attendance as well as medals for regular attendance for a whole school year.


      The London County Council school board did not implement their award system as early as many other school boards and commenced their program in 1886. In order to qualify for the medal the child needed 100% attendance with even an unavoidable absence due to illness being sufficient enough for the child to be disqualified. The system was so strict that even the headmaster’s word that the child had perfect attendance was not acceptable; it required a certificate signed by the school managers. I would suspect that the school managers depended greatly on the honesty of the headmaster to supply accurate data, rather than the managers actually verifying, on a daily basis, that the child was actually in attendance. Even with these stringent regulations there were a great number of medals awarded every year.

      The first of the LCC medals featured the bust of Queen Victoria and were struck in white metal which was suspended from a bronze plaque displaying the date. The pupil’s name was engraved on the back. In 1890 it was decided to offer medals stuck in different metals to signify those whose attendance went unbroken for longer periods of time. For years 1 to 3 it was white metal, 4 and 5 was in bonze and 6 through 9 years of perfect attendance the medal was gilt. Later on a 10th and even 11th year medal was offered in silver but according to some reports the only sliver 11th year medal struck was a specimen from Spink in competition for the contract; no pupils were ever awarded the 11th year medal.




      Following the death of Queen Victoria in 1901 a new medal was struck featuring the bust of King Edward VII. There were some changes to the reverse of this medal but basically the design remained the same as the previous design. The obverse changed in 1910 as far as the wording and this can be seen in the photos below.

      As time went on the regulations, as they applied to medal qualifications, were lightened somewhat and up to two days absence due to illness was allowed, with a note from the parents verifying the reason for the absence. Later, it was decided that the school board needed to recognize that children who were ill were best kept home in order to lessen the chances of a class-wide infection. Therefore, children who were ill for an extended period of time were not disqualified from receiving the medal.






      1911 brought with it a new monarch, King George V, following the passing of his father King Edward VII. The first pattern of medal was similar to those from past monarchs. Up to this time the medals had been 1½ inches but a new design was proposed and past that completely changed the look of the medal.

      The new medal was struck in bronze, suspended from a red, white and black ribbon in the military style, with the suspension bar reading LCC and the qualifying year shown on a clasp on the ribbon. For each additional qualifying year there would be a clasp added to the medal. From what I have found these “additional” clasps did not have the date specified and used a laurel branch design. The recipient’s name was shown on the medals edge rather than on the reverse and the size was reduced to 1¼ inches. There was a large medal also offered in 1912 for those who qualified under the old system, however these are very scarce with only 200 ever being awarded. The new smaller medals were issued throughout the “war years” and the last year this was offered was 1920.





      In the end the LCC had the longest “run” of any of the other participating school boards having used the medals system for thirty years. One of the exciting parts of collecting these medals is that at times you can also pick up the original boxes and better yet sometimes you can get a series that was awarded to one student (see photo below).










      In the above set you can see the change of design between 1909 and 1910 (Edward VII) and the George V large version of the 1911 as well as small version of the 1911/1912 medals. Anyone who knows me knows that I like to collect groups of medals that span monarchs as well as including design changes involving the same monarch, so this set really “spoke” to me.

      I hope you found this blog interesting and it will encourage you to look outside of collecting only military medals, or at least consider looking into it.

      Regards
      Brian







    19. Brian Wolfe
      Collecting the Periphery Part 2

      Have you ever started a project only to realize that perhaps to do it justice you probably shouldn’t have started it in the first place?

      This is not exactly what has happened to my plan to discuss collecting medals outside of the usual parameters of military and Mervin has pointed out, and rightly so, that this was a huge undertaking. The vast array of non-military medals is daunting to say the least. Therefore this will not be a treatise or my opus magnum on the subject but just an overview and perhaps it will serve to get people thinking about alternative medal collecting and study.

      In the first installment we discussed the Red Cross and similar organizations which included the Western Hemisphere as well as Japan, I neglected to mention the German Red Cross Medals and I regret doing so now, but it’s a little too late at this stage. To continue on along the lines of those who care for others, in particular the nursing profession, the first one that comes to mind is the Voluntary Medical Service Medal, instituted in 1932 and awarded for 15 years of service, with a bar for each additional 5 years of service. This is a medal I have as yet to add to my collection though I intend to do so some day. The obverse features a veiled bust of a woman holding an oil lamp. This, I have read, is a stylized representation of Florence Nightingale. The reverse features the crosses of Geneva and St. Andrew. To my knowledge these were always issued unnamed. The ribbon is red with yellow and white stripes.

      I have, in my collection, a medal in the form of a Maltese cross named to M. Mc Leavy, with distinction, for proficiency in mental nursing, from the Royal Medico-Psychological Association. It is a bronze cross which hangs from a dark blue ribbon. We know this medal dates after 1926 as that was when it received its Royal Charter and before 1971 when a Supplemental Charter accorded the Association the status of the “Royal College of Psychiatrist”. As many of the medals we have, and will, discuss during the length of this series many of the so-called periphery specimens are tied closely with the military or as in the above example as result from armed conflict.


      Another medal from my own collection is the Women’s Royal Voluntary Service Long Service Medal instituted in 1961 and issued unnamed. This was issued for 15 years of service with a bar for an additional 15 years of service. This round medal is of cupro-nickel with the interlocking initials VWS within an ivy wreath. The medal in my collection predates 1966 when the WVS acquired the Royal title of WRVS. The reverse has three flowering plants and around the outside circumference is inscribed “Service Beyond Self”. The ribbon is dark green with twin white stripes towards the end and broad red edges. The medal is issued in a dark green fitted box with “Women’s Voluntary Service Medal” in gold impressed on the top of the box lid. I like to collect my medals in their fitted boxes when possible and these can be picked up later if you happen along a medal on its own without a box. I will discuss finding boxes for your medals in Part 3 along with a few a caveat or two to help you along.

      The last group of medals I will touch on in this installment are the life saving medals. The United Kingdom, like Japan is surrounded by water and of course this leads to the need to rescue unfortunate souls from its grip. The need for rescue from any body of water is arguably greater than most incidents on dry land, including fire rescue. I say this not to belittle the efforts of the Fire Suppression Services and I myself have served in my younger days with a fire department. I have also served in a small municipality on the shores of Lake Erie (one of the Great Lakes) and we used to average four to five deaths among the summer tourists due to drowning every year. During my five years with the fire department we never lost a soul, or needed to save one for that matter.

      The number of different medals for life saving in the UK is quite varied. One of my favourite in this genre, though not a life saving medal but a swimming proficiency medal, is the Liverpool Shipwreck and Humane Society’s Swimming Medal. It was instituted in 1885 and is very ornate. I’ll quote the description from the Medals Yearbook, “ This extremely ornate medal has a twin dolphin suspender and a free form. (Obverse) a wreath surmounted by crossed oars and a trident, with a lifebelt at the centre enclosing the Liver Bird emblem on a shield; (reverse) plain, engraved with the recipient’s name and details. The medal comes in silver or bronze and the ribbon has five equal bars, three blue and two white. This is one medal I would love to have in the collection some day, however, as they say, so many medals so little time.

      Japan too had life saving medals and badges. In my collection reside two of the Imperial Sea Disaster Rescue Association badges. The activities of the Russian Lifeboat Association were observed by Count Kiyotaka Kuroda while he was touring Europe in 1888. This led to the founding of an organization in 1889 which became the Greater Imperial Sea Disaster Rescue Association, which later dropped the word “Greater”. The two badges in my collection are the Full Member’s Badge and the Honorary Member’s Badge. These are both basically the same design, being a frontal view of a lifeboat within a life saving ring with an anchor behind the badge. The Full Member’s badge is silver with a red field within the life saving ring which the Honorary Member’s badge is gold and a blue field within the life saving ring. These both come in fitted boxes. There are three classes of Merit Medals. They feature a shipwreck scene surrounded by a life saving ring. The third class is entirely silver, the second class features the suspender and life saving ring in gilt with the centre in silver and the first class is entirely in gilt. These are all suspended from a light blue ribbon with yellow stripes.

      In the next installment, Collecting the Periphery Part 3, I will touch on some of the different service awards such as the British Imperial Service Medals as an example.


      Sources:

      Wikipedia: Royal College of Psychiatrist
      In the Name of a Living God, Paul L. Murphy & Steven L. Ackley
      Medal Yearbook 2004, Token Publishing
      Reference to specimens – Author’s collection
    20. Brian Wolfe
      Collecting the Periphery Part 3

      When collecting medals that are not directly military in nature it would be easy to overlook the Ehrenkreuz der Deutschen Mutter or in English, Cross of Honour of the German Mother. I say this as it seems to me that anything associated with the Third Reich automatically conjures up military associations. This was a state decoration and civil order of merit awarded to mothers for exceptional merit to Germany.

      This decoration was awarded from 1939 until 1945 in three classes, these classes being, bronze, silver and gold. All of the classes were awarded to mothers who exhibited exemplary motherhood and in the case of the bronze or 3rd Class award conceived four to five children. The silver or 2nd Class was awarded to mothers with six to seven children and the gold or 1st Class to mothers with eight or more children.

      The award was introduced by decree in Berlin in 1938 by the then Chancellor of Germany, Adolf Hitler and awarded annually mainly on Mother’s Day as well as other national association’s annual events of celebrations.

      The award of this decoration was highly regarded by the German Government and the mothers nominated for the award were thoroughly investigated to assure that they met the qualifications. A number of benefits were associated with the award including a small financial benefit and preferential treatment within public service such as medical, clothing, schooling and housing. Upon the death of the recipient the Mother’s Cross of Honour was, by statute, allowed to be inheritable by the bereaved family as a keepsake of remembrance.

      The design of the cross is based on an elongated iron cross similar to the cross of the Teutonic Knights Order. The body of the cross is blue with a narrow white enamelled border. A sunburst with a roundel in its centre with the words, “DER DEUTSCHEN MUTTER”, English translation: OF THE GERMAN MOTHER around a black swastika is situated where the two parts of the cross intersect. The reverse features the date of introduction, “16 Dezember 1938” beneath which is a facsimile of the signature of the Chancellor, Adolf Hitler. I believe it is quite rare for any national leader to actually have their signature appear on the reverse of a medal of decoration. Not that this is an actual autograph per sae, however, it is a copy of his signature which I personally find interesting. From what I have read, from several sources, Adolf Hitler held his own mother in very high esteem. This, in my opinion, may have been a why his signature appears on the German Mother’s Cross. The award was worn around the neck on a thin blue and white ribbon. This was the only official manner of wear though a miniature example is known which was worn suspended from a blue and white bow made of the same ribbon as the neck ribbon. This was a semi-official approved version and a bow alone was also authorized for general everyday wear.
      The decoration could be withdrawn at any time after being awarded if it was found that the recipient acted in a manner which conflicted to the criteria set out for the award. An example would be if the mother abandoned her children

      At the end of World War Two and the fall of the Third Reich all medals and awards bearing the swastika became illegal to wear and so the Mutterehrenkreuz (Mother’s Cross of Honour) also became illegal and therefore was no longer worn.

      Opinion:

      It has been held that Hitler implemented this award only to encourage large families in order to fill the ranks of the German military. However, one should keep in mind that when this award was first introduced the world had just gone through a change in morals and a life style not in keeping with the family values of the past. The Roaring Twenties had just ended and a need to bring the thinking of the younger population back in line with the more traditional family values was needed. While this indeed had the additional “benefit” of providing a larger number of young men for military service I believe there were more reasons than purely providing cannon fodder.

      One of the reasons for my statement is that Germany has not been the only country to implement an award to honour mothers who raised several children in an appropriate manner. In 1920 France implemented the Médaille de la Famille française (Medal of the French Family). Another example would be the Order of Maternal Glory and Mother Heroine of the Soviet Union from the same era.

      A very striking display can be made with these awards and their neck
      ribbons. Considering they may still be purchased at a reasonable price one can purchase an extra to display the reverse bearing the signature of Adolf Hitler.

      In my next installment of this series, “Collecting the Periphery Part 4” I will get back to British Empire medals. It is my intention to feature photos of the medals from this series that I have in my collection, in the regular sections of the forum.

      Sources:

      Wikipedia: Cross of Honor of the German Mother
    21. Brian Wolfe
      Collecting the Periphery Part One

      Most of what we see here on the GMIC and on other military focused forums is mainstream and by that I am referring to the collecting of medals. Medals for campaigns, long service, good conduct and “been there and got the T shirt” fill online auction pages and the catalogues of dealers around the world. Interestingly there are many areas of civilian medals that seem to have gone unnoticed by the collecting world in general.

      Police medals and equipment will not be included in this essay simply because I would like to concentrate on medals not dealing with keeping the peace which would, of course, include both the military and police.

      The first of these non-military or police medals that comes to mind is the multitude of Red Cross medals that are available to the collector. The Red Cross, founded by Henry Dunant in 1863 in Geneva Switzerland, has been on hand to give care and comfort in all the wars since its founding as well as providing relief during times of natural disasters and carrying out first aid training to the civilian population. The collecting of Red Cross memorabilia is perhaps not as far from main-stream as I would like to take today’s discussion. I say this as not only is the Red Cross, Red Crescent, St. John’s Ambulance among others, on hand during armed conflicts but, in the case of the Red Cross, there were WWII medals, the British War Medal and Victory medals named to members of the Red Cross. An example of this from my own collection is the BWM and Victory pair named to, J. (Jeanie) Low, B.R.C.S. and a group which in includes a St. John Ambulance Brigade Medal named to Special Constable Sgt. W. (William) C. Holley, Hants (Hampshire County) S.J.A.B. 1953. Sgt. Holley served with the S.J.A.B. from 1940 to 1961. His group also includes the British Defence Medal and Special Constabulary Long Service and Good Conduct Medal. Another example from my collection is a Red Cross Medal for Proficiency in Anti-gas Training named to 6938 C. Barclay who served with the Red Cross from 1938 to 1968. There is little doubt that the anti-gas training was connected with the Second World War threat of gas attack from Germany.

      Perhaps one of the best examples of the close ties between the military and the Red Cross may be found in the study of post Shogunate (1868 onward) Japanese Medals. The following is a quote from “In the Name of a Living God” by Paul L. Murphy and Steven L. Ackley. If you don’t have this book and have any interest in non-government badges and medals of Imperial Japan I highly recommend you purchase one. You WILL NOT regret it.

      “The forerunner of the Japanese Red Cross Society was the Hakuaisha (Philanthropic Society) which was founded in 1877 by Count Tsunetami Sano to help those who were wounded in the Satsuma Rebellion earlier that year. Japan signed the Geneva Convention in 1886 and in the following year the Hakuaisha changed its name to the Japanese Red Cross Society (Nippon Sekijujisha). It was recognized as such by the International Committee of the Red Cross on September 2, 1887.
      The society is under the patronage of the Imperial family and the symbol of the society is taken from the hair pin of the Meiji Empress that featured a Pawlonia, bamboo and ho-o bird. This design and/or the Geneva cross features on all of the badges and medals of the society”.

      Membership in the Nippon Sekijujisha was very common among military personnel so much so that many photos and medal groups may be found with the Red Cross Society’s medal included. In my own collection I have a photo of a soldier wearing the 1894-1895 War Medal (Sino-Japanese War) alongside the Nippon Sekijujisha Men’s Life Membership Medal. Another example, again from my own collection, is a four place ribbon bar with the Order of the Rising Sun (Kyuokujitsusho), Manchurian Incident (1931-1934), China Incident (1937 – 1945) along with the ever present Red Cross Medal ribbon. While doing research for this article I saw a group of Japanese medals and the description was of all of the military medals followed by “...and the Red Cross medal, of course”, demonstrating just how common it is to find the Red Cross Medal associated with the Japanese Military. I apologize that I cannot give proper credit for the quote above as I did not write down the source and my memory fails me on this point. If it was one of our fellow GMIC members please accept my sincere apologies.

      Please watch for Collecting the Periphery Part 2 coming soon where we will travel further afield away from mainstream collecting.

      Sources:
      Wikipedia – International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement
      Orders and Medals of Japan and Associate States – James W. Peterson
      In the Name of a Living God – Paul L. Murphy & Steven L. Ackley
      Reference to specimens – Author’s collection
    22. Brian Wolfe
      Today my Provincial Government has issued the list of essential services that will remain open with all those not on the list ordered closed “until further notice”. Contacts in the Regional Police Service (friends who still don’t have real jobs) have told me they are gearing up for a spike in the number of domestic disturbance calls due to the government policy of Social Distancing and Quarantining of those infected with COVID 19. It is somehow a little disturbing that two of the essential services that will remain open are the Beer and Liquor Stores. Domestic violence with the addition of alcohol seems an equation that just doesn’t add up; but then what do I know.
       
      Obviously I don’t always agree with my government but they are still my government and compliance (so far) is the only option open to a fellow like me. To that end my wife and I had decided to practise Social Distancing, though my dear wife, Linda, has suggested that knowing how I am a stickler when it comes to the law that I should move into the shop “until further notice”. I hope she was joking. Regardless I also decided to keep a personal journal of how this Social Distancing was going to affect me, here it is below.
       
      Day one 06:30 hours (6:30 in the morning for normal humans; those with real jobs):
       
      Today is “Garbage Day” the day where our garbage is picked up at the curb. Not wanting to wait until first light I decided to place the garbage at the curb in darkness so as not to be seen by others (a.k.a. “them”) who might want to socialize. Avoiding opening the garage door and triggering the automatic interior lights which might attract “them” I went through the adjoining shop. Cautiously opening the door and only exposing my head far enough to detect any potential socialisers I quickly looked both ways up and down the street. Seeing none I decided it was safe to take a second look, a slower and more complete surveillance of the neighbourhood. Again seeing none I, as quickly as possible, taking all of the garbage I could in one trip advanced to behind my truck which was parked just outside of the shop. Then as I decided the coast was clear I heard a noise and froze in place fearing to move a muscle least I give my position away. Could I have imagined it, was there a noise and if so was it from one of “them” walking their dog this early in the morning? Or, could I have stepped on a twig or scuffed the bottom of my boot on the driveway pavement. There it was again! I dropped the garbage and bolted for the shop door, slamming it shut behind me. Looking through one window then another, the blinds bent upward and downwards to allow just enough to see, I checked for danger. Nothing, no one; all was clear and safe. As quickly as possible I dashed out, grabbed the garbage, ripping one bag open as I ran, leaving a trail of trash behind me like the debris trail of the Titanic. Depositing the bags at the curb I sprinted back to the shop and safety. Now I was worried that I had alerted the neighbours, those socialisers, of our existence. I had waking nightmares that they would surround our home moaning and muttering, “Hi neighbour” or “Hello how ya doin” over and over in an attempt to break down my will to become “one of them, one of them”.
       
      After this scare passed I decided to check my i-Pad for the updates on the virus, more disturbing news. “Ok”, I told myself, check back in a little while and the screen will have changed revealing new information. I did so but the screen remained the same, again a while later and still no change. I threw the i-pad onto the couch with disgust as the news reports obviously were not coming in. What the Hell was going on?
       
      Later I noticed I was developing the “Repetitive Action Syndrome” doing the same movements over and over like the caged animal I was becoming. Then perhaps the most horrible syndrome I have ever experienced swept over me. This uncontrollable urge to leave the house and purchase as much toilet paper as possible (bathroom tissue to you more refined folks), but I don’t have time for niceties, I was in panic mode. Must have toilet paper, lots and lots of toilet paper. Oh my God, from what I have read this could be the first sign that was actually coming down with COVID 19. I was going out of my mind, trapped like a rat in my own home, possibly surrounded by socialisers trying to infect me. I had this overwhelming sense of impending doom or danger, a fear of loss of control and possible death, a rapid pounding heart rate, profuse sweating. I was trembling, shaking actually; I had shortness of breath and tightness in my throat, chills and hot flashes. We’re doomed I tell you DOOMED!
       
      Day one 07:00 hours
       
      Linda called me for breakfast and coffee. Things are much better now.
       
      >< 
      Seriously, my friends, this COVID 19 is no laughing matter. It kills, not everyone but make no doubt about it, as they say on television’s Forged In Fire, “It will keel”. Think about a pair of tigers loose in your neighbourhood. Some will die some won’t. Ignoring this virus is like going out against the advice of smarter people after rubbing yourself down with pork chops chanting, “Here kitty, here kitty”. Don’t be that guy.
       
      Stay well and take care, we can’t afford to lose a single member: not even the “pork chop guy”.
       
      Regards
      Brian
       
       
    23. Brian Wolfe
      Often when I start to write what is supposed to be a serious article and I get into the research I find that suddenly I start to doubt my original viewpoint. 

      I was researching into the Battle of Crecy, 26 August 1346 with the intention of writing a piece on the event when I found a good deal of contradictory opinions and sketchy so-called facts.  It is not my intention to hammer on and on about these opinions but as an example I found one source as stating the number of Genoese Crossbowmen mercenaries being at 5,000 and another at 15,000.  I can over look a few hundred or even a couple of thousand but not a difference that equals three times greater or lesser.  Interestingly enough King Edward III set sail from Portsmouth with a fleet of 750 ships and 15,000 men on 11July 1346. Perhaps this is where the confusion came from in one of my sources.  Another source doubts the capability of the city of Genoa to be able to provide even 5, 000 mercenaries, though we’ll accept that number for now. As you can see right away I started to doubt my sources.


       
      My viewpoint has always been that the British longbow was far superior to the crossbow of the same era, as in the case of this battle in 1346.  Spoiler alert!  I still hold to my original hypothesis that the longbow was superior but not as it was based on the information I have always held as accurate. 


       
      A quick overview of the Battle of Crecy as it pertains to the difference in bows is as follows.  The British had the longbow the French the crossbow; to be more accurate the Genoese mercenaries had the crossbow in the employment of the French.  The English held the high ground, a classic tactical move, on a south slopping hillside at Crecy-en-Ponthieu.  This put the French mounted knights at a disadvantage from the start.  Out flanking the English was impossible for the French as the English left flank was anchored at  Wadicourt and the right flank protected by Crecy and the Maye River just beyond the city.  In essence this constricted the French into what could be termed a confined killing zone. Since the English had arrived well before the French they were well rested and fed, in contrast to the French who were weary from the long march and had not had time to take sustenance. King Philip VI of France was advised to encamp for the night so the troops could be fed and well rested prior to the battle.  Unfortunately for the French, King Philip listened to his to his senior nobles and elected to fight on that very day.


       
      Around 16:00 hrs (4:00 PM for you non-military/police types) a heavy rain started.  The British took their bow strings off their bows and stored them under their waterproof hats.  The Genoese could not remove their bowstrings as this required special tools to install and remove the strings.  The wet crossbow strings, which could not have been removed or even adjusted to” take up the slack”, greatly reduced the range of the crossbow while the dry longbow strings, once the British bows were re-equipped maintained their range. As the Genoese advanced the setting sun shone directly in their eyes blinding them. At the same time the British arrows started to rain down on them well before they could reach the range to use their crossbows.  The Genoese commander ordered a tactical withdrawal (another and more honorable term for retreat) which enraged the French knights, which was comprised of their nobility.  History states that the French mounted knights slaughtered the 5,000 (or was it 15,000) Genoese crossbowmen for showing cowardice in the face of the enemy.  As we have all probably read the French knights then fell before the British arrows throwing the French battle strategy into complete disarray and defeat.  This defeat sapped the fighting strength of the French to such a degree that defence of Calais at a later date was impossible, allowing the British to control that area for several hundred years afterward.


       
      My issue was with the long held theory that the Genoese crossbowmen could not remove their bow strings in the rain and therefore the range was lessened.  It seems to me that professional mercenary crossbowmen, if the bow string could not be removed, would have planned for such an event, based on their past experiences and training.  Crossbowmen had large shields, called pavises, where they could take shelter from enemy arrows while reloading.  So why not use these to cover the crossbows while the weather was wet?  There are two stories to this question (stories are not necessarily facts).  One story was that while on route to Crecy in the August heat the crossbows plus the heavy shields were too much to carry so they discarded them.  This seems unlikely for two reasons; first you would not discard your pavis in the face of an enemy who could launch almost twice as many arrows as you.  Second the crossbowmen did not carry their own pavises as they had pages, or squires, to do so.  Another theory was that the pavises were on the baggage trains and they simply had not arrived in time for the battle.  The battle did not actually need to start that day but at the insistence of the French nobles it did and the crossbowmen were pressed unto the attack, therefore this might lend credence to the theory that the pavises were indeed absent.  Had the pavises arrived in time would this had made a great difference in the outcome of the battle?  I tend to doubt that it would.  The French were too confined and with the greater range of the longbow and the higher number of shots per minute the Genoese would have suffered greatly.  The impatience of the mounted armoured knights would undoubtedly lead them to attempt an attack which would have been through the front line (the Genoese).  One of the facts of using mercenaries is that you don’t need to pay a dead mercenary and often they would take causalities from “friendly fire” in order to thin their ranks once the battle had turned in the favour of their employer.  The distain for mercenaries by the nobility and the need to reduce the number of survivors needing to be paid may have meant that charging through their ranks was a positive move on several levels.  If we can accept this scenario then the outcome of the battle would have been much the same.


       
      It is my opinion that the English were simply superior archers with a far longer ranging bow, the long bow.  The arrows being much longer and with more weight tipped with a four sided tip called a bodkin tip had greater kinetic energy at impact.  This not only brought down the Genoese but the flower of the French mounted knights. There has been doubt that a longbow arrow could penetrate plate armour; perhaps this is true as it is supported by contemporary observation.  However, the armor on a horse is relatively light and certainly not even close to full covering.  Bring down a knight’s horse and you have finished off the man.  I say this as a man in a couple of hundred pounds of steel armour hitting the ground at speed (full charge) would cause multiple debilitating and mortal internal injuries.   Add to this a 2,000 pound horse and its armour rolling over him and you have what could best be described as “puree of knight in a can”.


       
      I am suggesting that the wet bow strings and perhaps even the missing pavises (if that is even true) combined with the French knights slaughtering the Genoese as cowards as they were retreating is something that was made up by the Genoese survivors themselves.  A mercenary is only as good as the last victory in which he was engaged.  To admit that the enemy (English in this case) were simply using superior bows and were the better archers would not bode well for potential future employment.  To tell the tale that they were exhausted prior to the battle and upon moving back out of range of the English archers, as a tactical move to regroup, then be cut down by the French (a betrayal) would be acceptable to potential employers who may not be friendly toward the French.  Add to this possibility that the French used the Genoese as a reason for their defeat. Always be quick to take credit for your victories and be quicker to deflect blame in the case defeat. It would be folly to suggest the reason for English victory was due only to their superior bowmen as there were other factors such as the tactically wise choice of terrain by the English and King Philip’s decision to give in to his nobles poor advice. This, of course, is pure speculation on my part.


       
      So how can I sit here in the Home Office and make such profound statements?  On what am I basing my opinions and assumptions?  Well, I’m glad you asked.  Almost two years ago this question, in my mind, of wet bow strings drove me to produce two exact as possible copies of a crossbow based on the weapons of the 1300s.  Research alone took almost a year then testing both bows over the course of several months, when time allowed, saw two years pass by.  I built the two crossbows, one for me and one for my friend Brian, in order to see if they would perform in the same manner in the hands of two people who never fired a crossbow before.  The cost of these two bows, considering some parts were made by professional armourers, was just under $1,000.00 Canadian.  I’ll take you through some of the processes of making the bows and the materials used as well as our findings in the next blog.


       
      Please stay tuned for a little applied archeology and discussion as to what we discovered.


       
      Regards

      Brian


       

       

    24. Brian Wolfe
      Why can’t we discuss politics on the GMIC? It all has to do with ketchup.

      Today my dear wife, Linda, wanted me to go into the City to exchange something or other; I wasn’t listening because I didn’t really want to go. Knowing this she suggested that we stop for breakfast in our small town first. She is a wise woman as she knows my fondness for breakfast meat, not to mention over-easy eggs. This would make me both cheap and easy. I would have been the most popular girl in school had I been born a female.

      During breakfast I decided I required a small bit of ketchup for the sausages and in picking up the full bottle I realized that talking politics on the forum was just like what was about to take place. To be clear I am not clairvoyant, just a creature of habit and one who will repeat mistakes with an alarming regularity. The ketchup (or catsup if you prefer) bottles are always full at our local restaurant, the “Old Country Restaurant†or O.C. as we locals refer to it. We live in New Hamburg so we often meet up with friends at the O.C in N.H. It’s a small town thing.

      Now for the political discussion comparison; one starts out gently patting the bottom of the bottle in an exercise in futility hopping that by some miracle the contents will flow out easily. When that doesn’t happen we all do the same thing, hit the bottle harder. Perhaps you bounce the neck of the bottle on your finger but the next step is always the same – apply more force. You might see if there is a knife by your plate, which has yet to be used and therefore clean, in order to insert in into the bottle. Thus producing an air space allowing the ketchup’s release from the effects of the bottle’s vacuum. Once in a while this works but most of the time all you end up with for your efforts is a knife covered with the red sauce all the way up the blade and well onto the handle. Now you’re getting a little hot under the collar, but still in control of your inner rage against the physics of a vacuum and Mother Nature herself fort having invented the dammed tomato in the first place. The bottle is now firmly grasped in your left hand and you start to strike the bottom of the bottle with the heel of your clenched right hand. Still nothing! At this point with your spouse showing signs of somewhere between embarrassment and disgust you lose all control. Beating the hell out of the bottle, uttering muffled statements that may or may not cross the line into blasphemy, while everyone in the restaurant looks on wide eyed. “Yes lady you heard me correctly now get over it and piss off!†you think as you notice that kindly eighty year old lady looking your way in shock. You’ve come to the point where you are committed, you will be the master of this bottle and its contents; this is the hill upon which you are will to die! You committed all of your resources and now it is you or the bottle, “No quarter, you’re going down you glass vessel from the lowest bowels of Hell itself!!!!!†RAGE, unadulterated rage!

      Then without warning it happens, like some sort of demonic orgasm or an eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, the red thick sauce finally burst forward covering the largest area of your plate with half an inch of ketchup. The whole place is looking on witnessing your triumph yet missing the point entirely that you were victorious and your manhood is once again verified. Needless to say the trip, to the city and back, was very quiet indeed. Oh yes, here’s tip. If you find yourself in one of these situations where the silence emulating from your significant other is almost “deafening†do not; I repeat, do not, turn on the radio.

      And this, my friends, is why we can’t discuss politics on the forum.

      Regards
      Brian
    25. Brian Wolfe
      Fallen but Not Forgotten
       
      Sitting in the auditorium with some fifty or so other students I opened my history exam paper upon the announcement to commence by the teacher in charge of security and started ticking off the boxes of the multiple choice section.  I always found this section rather annoying with ridiculous choices such as, “When was the date of the Battle of Hastings?” Choices ranged from 1066 to 1466, never anything more difficult than remembering the correct century in which the battle took place; though some of my friends were frustrated that there was never the choice “Some of the above”, or even “All of the above” to check off.  Many, no doubt, would have been stumped by such multiple choice questions as, “When did the War of 1812 occur” or “Who fought the Franco-Prussian War”. 
       
      My favorite part of the History Examination was always the essay section.  You had to choose two of five topics and write an essay of between 500 and 1,000 words with penalty points for exceeding the draconian restriction of such a meager limitation.  If you are wondering why keeping an essay under 1,000 words gave that young scholar an anxiety attack you must not have been reading my blogs and articles here on the GMIC.  Yes, I have always been an obsessive pain in the lower extremities.  A secondary, though just as stressful, aspect of the essay section was being limited to only two out of five topics.  It seemed and still seems rather a cruel trick to play on a student and I really should broach this topic with our respected fellow GMIC member and educator Megan sometime. To be fair educators only have so much time to check the exams and besides most students would rather have to choose one out of five, or better yet do a “Word Search” of historical names and places or “Connect the Dots”  to reveal the letter “I”.
       
      Over the years we have reduced history to dates and places, at times the casi belli (causes for war) is thrown in for good measure.  Unless you have had an ancestor who fell in a certain war or battle the names and stories of those who served and fell seldom surface.  Most of the time we are not aware of any of our ancestors unless such research has been done into our past family.  In my case I know an ancestor of mine fell in the Battle of Isandlawana only because my dear wife is an avid researcher into ancestry.
       
      I applaud some of the resent documentaries dealing with the past two World Wars in bringing the stories of some of those who fell back to life.  While it could be argued that history can indeed be reduced to dates and places with an overview of the root causes and the outcome, however, the personal sacrifices must not be allowed to fade away into the mists of the past.  There are several excellent books which detail individual sacrifices and one of them is Paul C”s book “Small Town, Large Sacrifice”.  Paul has written one book and is now in the process of writing a second dealing with fallen heroes from the American towns of Hawthorne and North Haledon, New Jersey, which I have the honor of being asked to edit.  One aspect of Paul’s book is that it tells the stories of those killed in action and in addition those who died in training while still in their home country. We seldom think of those unfortunate people who never got the chance to go overseas to serve their country, which had been their intention.  
       
      This may seem like a shameless promotion of Paul’s past book as well as his upcoming one and if it does so be it.  Paul is a fellow member here at GMIC and I think he needs to be applauded for taking on this task.  My point is not so much, “buy Paul’s books” as it is that such works need to be made required reading in schools so that future generations can get a good idea of the true sacrifices the service people and indeed their families and loved ones made during our shared conflicts. 
       
      I would suggest that anyone interested in the full history and the impact the wars have had check out Paul’s book or at the least one with the same theme.  We all need to stop simply “checking off” one choice from a list or taking the easiest essay question on a test style of thinking and get the full picture, if we want to call ourselves history buffs or dare I use the term Historians.
       
      Regards
      Brian
       
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