Happiness Is A Warm Gun

Yes, We Are Back In North Africa
Don't fret so, for lo! I have nearly finished "Three Against Rommel" by Daily Express war correspondent Alexander Clifford, as it is this work that inspires today's blog title.  Of course, once I've finished it, I shall have to go read "African Trilogy" by Alan Moorehead, then compare the two, since they knocked around the desert in each other's company.  Art?

The dessert

     Now, let us apparently veer wildly off-topic (a frequent habit here, I am afraid) by addressing the rather silly modern myth that has grown up about the French not being any good at warfare.  Really - do those passing along the memes think that Napoleon conquered Europe with a bunch of wilting hothouse flowers?  Also, 330,000 Teutons who fell on the Verdun battlefield might quibble a bit with you.  Recall what happened when the French sent a force to Mali to tackle the jihadists there: the jihadis suddenly found they had urgent appointments at the other end of the continent.

A Town Called Mali's Timbuktu*

     Now, back to North Africa and Bir Hakiem.  This unlovely, fly-blown speck of nothing out in the vastness of the Libyan desert was the very southernmost point of the British defences before the Battle of Gazala began.  There you go, back on track.  It consisted of a battered old fort, a dried-up well, and a brigade of 4,000 Free French.
     Here an aside.  It is easiest and more efficient to just say "British" because the alternative is a bit long-winded: " - the British, South Africans, Rhodesians, New Zealanders, Australians, Indians, Cypriots, Maltese, Free French, Free Greeks, Czechs and Poles", and that doesn't include the non-combatants from South Canada.

Czech it out!

     Back on track.  The Axis forces had to get rid of the fort and it's garrison, because it prevented them from cutting around behind the British defences.  Well, they tried.  O boy they tried!  The Italians mounted an armoured attack that left thirty of their pokey little tankettes in flames.  The Germans attacked, to no avail.  The garrison was shelled and bombed.  The Axis attacked again, and were repeatedly thrown back.  This whole stalemate went on for days, especially the bombing, to which the FF had no response.

The Bir near bottom centre

     Finally, after enduring two weeks of relentless attacks, the garrison was ordered to retreat, as they could no longer be supplied.  They formed up a huge convoy under cover of darkness and 3,000 of the defenders got away.
     Let us now quote Alex: "They did not regard themselves as having been defeated; I nearly got knifed for my pains when I hinted at it .....  they had shelled Axis transport passing through the minefield gap until the barrels of their guns were red hot." So there you have the rationale for today's title: happiness is indeed a warm gun, but exultation is a red hot one.

One of the guns in question

     The stand at Bir Hakeim made headlines around the world, and one cannot help feel that even the puppet Vichy regime in France was smiling behind the backs of their erstwhile Axis partners.
     What's that?  You thought this was going to be about an album track by some obscure musicians from The Wirral called the Four Fabs, that just, by an ABSOLUTELY AMAZING COINCIDENCE mirros the blog title?  Pshaw!  Get out of here, you're making it up!
     Now, time to put a tin bucket over the motley's head and wallop it with a hammer!

That was a long Intro.  In fact, it's nearly time to end today's post.  But, before we go -

You What?
Conrad, as you ought to know by now, holds the futurist Gerry Anderson in very high regard, not least because all his programmes had BIG EXPLOSIONS in them.  You can't go wrong with big - excuse me - BIG EXPLOSIONS.**
     Anyway, I saw the following byline on the Beeb's webpage. 

"Dashcam captures car in flight"

     Great! I enthused to myself.  At last Gerry's vision of an airmobile family saloon has arrived!  For the flying car is familiar to myself thanks to 'Supercar' and 'Joe 90'.

Coming shortly to a showroom near you!

     Sadly no.  Not even remotely close.

Oh.

     Real life you are - well, not exactly boring, given what happened, just less exciting than you ought to be.

Okay, not coming anywhere near anywhere soon.
<sob>

Ah, If It's Wednesday Then That Must Be The Coincidence Hydra -

 - with it's teeth in my nethers.  What was I going on about recently?  No!  Not radioactive mutant raspberry jam that climbs out of the jar and attacks you
Yes, We Are Back In North Africa
Don't fret so, for lo! I have nearly finished "Three Against Rommel" by Daily Express war correspondent Alexander Clifford, as it is this work that inspires today's blog title.  Of course, once I've finished it, I shall have to go read "African Trilogy" by Alan Moorehead, then compare the two, since they knocked around the desert in each other's company.  Art?

The dessert

     Now, let us apparently veer wildly off-topic (a frequent habit here, I am afraid) by addressing the rather silly modern myth that has grown up about the French not being any good at warfare.  Really - do those passing along the memes think that Napoleon conquered Europe with a bunch of wilting hothouse flowers?  Also, 330,000 Teutons who fell on the Verdun battlefield might quibble a bit with you.  Recall what happened when the French sent a force to Mali to tackle the jihadists there: the jihadis suddenly found they had urgent appointments at the other end of the continent.

A Town Called Mali's Timbuktu*

     Now, back to North Africa and Bir Hakiem.  This unlovely, fly-blown speck of nothing out in the vastness of the Libyan desert was the very southernmost point of the British defences before the Battle of Gazala began.  There you go, back on track.  It consisted of a battered old fort, a dried-up well, and a brigade of 4,000 Free French.
     Here an aside.  It is easiest and more efficient to just say "British" because the alternative is a bit long-winded: " - the British, South Africans, Rhodesians, New Zealanders, Australians, Indians, Cypriots, Maltese, Free French, Free Greeks, Czechs and Poles", and that doesn't include the non-combatants from South Canada.

Czech it out!

     Back on track.  The Axis forces had to get rid of the fort and it's garrison, because it prevented them from cutting around behind the British defences.  Well, they tried.  O boy they tried!  The Italians mounted an armoured attack that left thirty of their pokey little tankettes in flames.  The Germans attacked, to no avail.  The garrison was shelled and bombed.  The Axis attacked again, and were repeatedly thrown back.  This whole stalemate went on for days, especially the bombing, to which the FF had no response.

The Bir near bottom centre

     Finally, after enduring two weeks of relentless attacks, the garrison was ordered to retreat, as they could no longer be supplied.  They formed up a huge convoy under cover of darkness and 3,000 of the defenders got away.
     Let us now quote Alex: "They did not regard themselves as having been defeated; I nearly got knifed for my pains when I hinted at it .....  they had shelled Axis transport passing through the minefield gap until the barrels of their guns were red hot." So there you have the rationale for today's title: happiness is indeed a warm gun, but exultation is a red hot one.

One of the guns in question

     The stand at Bir Hakeim made headlines around the world, and one cannot help feel that even the puppet Vichy regime in France was smiling behind the backs of their erstwhile Axis partners.
     What's that?  You thought this was going to be about an album track by some obscure musicians from The Wirral called the Four Fabs, that just, by an ABSOLUTELY AMAZING COINCIDENCE mirros the blog title?  Pshaw!  Get out of here, you're making it up!
     Now, time to put a tin bucket over the motley's head and wallop it with a hammer!

That was a long Intro.  In fact, it's nearly time to end today's post.  But, before we go -

You What?
Conrad, as you ought to know by now, holds the futurist Gerry Anderson in very high regard, not least because all his programmes had BIG EXPLOSIONS in them.  You can't go wrong with big - excuse me - BIG EXPLOSIONS.**
     Anyway, I saw the following byline on the Beeb's webpage. 

"Dashcam captures car in flight"

     Great! I enthused to myself.  At last Gerry's vision of an airmobile family saloon has arrived!  For the flying car is familiar to myself thanks to 'Supercar' and 'Joe 90'.

Coming shortly to a showroom near you!

     Sadly no.  Not even remotely close.

Oh.

     Real life you are - well, not exactly boring, given what happened, just less exciting than you ought to be.

Okay, not coming anywhere near anywhere soon.
<sob>

Ah, If It's Wednesday Then That Must Be The Coincidence Hydra -
 - with it's teeth in my nethers.  What was I going on about recently?  No!  Not radioactive mutant raspberry jam that climbs out of the jar and attacks you*** - soughs.  You remember, the underground tunnels dug to drain mines.
     Well well well, what is the address of a colleague calling just now?  "Sough" Street.
     Of course this is all perfectly DON'T SNEAK UP ON ME LIKE THAT!
     Time, I think, to go. 


*  With apologies to The Jam**  Except at Bir Hakeim
***  Hello?  Sci-Fi Channel?  Listen, I've got an idea for a horror film ...