This photograph has always given me the shivers. It is a vision of the apocalypse and loaded with symbolism. The ruins of Stalin's eponymous city burning as his brave new world narrowly escapes extinction at the hands of another madman with an equally twisted vision. Two evil ideologies, that represent the worst extremes of human behaviour, fighting to the death on the Volga like blood crazed dinosaurs. Thousands of lives lost in a struggle that cost millions more and whose consequences we still feel today, Stalingrad, the farthest the tide went out, the real turning point in a war for the soul of mankind. A war not yet won. The statues, that show young Communists with their red Kommosol scarves dancing round a crocodile that could turn and kill anyone of them with a flick of its tail, was surely tempting fate. The reckless, devil may care, look on the face of the girl on the right suggests a foolish belief that there will be no consequences, perhaps that their world view would not be challenged by others with equally extreme ideologies. What would happen if real children, dancing round a crocodile, became exhausted after hours in the hot sun? Which of the children would be the first to falter and lose their footing and which would be the first to feel the snap of the crocodile's jaws? There are clearly not enough children to overcome the crocodile and there are no adults in sight. It is clearly not going to end well as there are going to be lot of dead children and somebody, sooner or later is going to have to kill the crocodile. Stalingrad, where at huge cost in lives and blood, the children of the Soviet revolution gave the crocodile of National Socialism such a bloody nose that it could now only fight its way back to its lair to die an ignoble death. It may be that crocodiles should be left to live out their lives in swamps well away from people that want to live their lives in peace with their neighbours. Dancing with crocodiles never ends well.
Mine is I guess predictable. I would like the chance to go back to Burma, the Shan State on the 17th April 1943 and attempt to persuade my grandfather and five of his Chindit comrades, not to leave the dispersal group led by Lt. Musgrave-Wood of the Burma Rifles and head off on their own in the hope of reaching the Chinese borders. Only one of grandad's group made it home and that only after two years as a POW, whereas, 50% of Musgrave-Wood's party made it back to Allied held territory in 1943.
I would go back to the 14th March 1941 which was the day that my granny's house had its windows blown out by enemy action. Her clean washing was blown off the line as she hadn't had time to bring it in when the sirens went off. I would spend the hour persuading her not to do the washing that day so that she wouldn't keep banging on about it for the next 45 years.
Sounds similar to this granny: Sergeant, we've arrived at the scene. So, what's the situation? An elderly woman killed her husband. There were 35 stab wounds, two gunshot wounds, and after decapitating him, she finally burned his body. Wow, what was the reason she gave for the crime? He stepped where she was cleaning the floor. Did you manage to capture the woman? No, Sergeant. We are waiting for the floor to dry ...
Too many big WW2 moments to choose from so I’ll focus on the personal... I’d like to be in Franleu, June 6th 1940 around the time my great grandad was captured just so I could see how it happened or the moment word got out about the “Great Escape” when he was in Stalag Luft 3, or the moment he was finally liberated after 5 years.
Perhaps I would go back to the night in the Burmese jungle, when my father and Captain Mote, consumed their Mortar Platoons Rum Ration whilst sat in a slit trench, and got completely drunk. Maybe I would know exectly what exceptionally horrible event prompted these normally upright, sober, men to indulge themselves.
My choice would be clearly be the exlt of the escape tunnel on 14th September 1941in Biberach. This would help in my research and the book I am writing about the escape. Stefan.
I would have liked to be there on the docks that day when he came back to Canada. He had nobody there.
I would just like to spend the hour with my dad and tell him everything I've found out about his war and how proud I am. Lesley