You Couldn't Make It Up

Because, If You Did -
 - Tsar Putin would have you framed, beaten, arrested and thrown in prison.  I know we don't normally touch on Current Affairs, or Politics, but - Dog Buns, Ol' Dimya is just too easy a target to resist!
      Even saying that in Ruffia would probably get me into trouble; they now have a law about "being disrespectful" towards officials and another - O! delicious irony - about "fake news", which is apparently exactly the same as news Tsar Putin doesn't like.  What an amazing and unlikely coincidence!  I bet the toxic little nadger* would like to ban the novels of The Strugatsky Brothers, too.
                              
                                                      Hands off, wabhead!
     Now, I know what you're thinking: Conrad is reverting to type and getting very angry indeed about something entirely inconsequential, like a really difficult Cryptic Crossword clue, or there not being enough ginger jam for his toast of a Sunday morning.
     Not at all.  No, this concerns that fantastic, if also fantastically grim, miniseries "Chernobyl", which Your Humble Scribe has seen and enjoyed in it's entirety.  In case you have been living in a tent on the island of Rockall for the past six months, I would remind you that the series is about nuclear Reactor Number 4 of the Chernobyl power plant blowing up; why it happened, the attempted Sinister cover-up and the enormous clean-up operation that followed.  Art?

A metaphor, of sorts.

     It's been universally acclaimed for it's verity and striving for accuracy and will doubtless go on to be internationally popular and feted, and win lots of awards.
     Enter Tsar Putin.  With a mind perpetually stuck in 1975, Ol' Dimya (the familiar diminutive of "Vladimir" that only close friends get to use) simply cannot bear to see his beloved Sinister Union made to look bad.  

     Yes, that's right, Ol' Dimya wants a Ruffian version that blames the whole thing on the CIA: it was eeeevil capitalists what blew it up with dynamites! or some such drivel.  You see that big black cloud erupting from the reactor building?  That's how Ol' Dimya and his cronies feel "Chernobyl" is affecting their image at home and abroad.  What next?  "Stalin never had anyone killed - it was the space-Nazi Martians and the OSS conspiring together" or possibly "Shock revelations!  Soviet Union foully attacked by the mighty armed forces of Finland and forced to defend itself! - say hand-written Beria diaries recently discovered". 
     Those last two were Historical, so they're permitted.  I can see why BOOJUM! normally skirts Politics and Current Affairs: it makes things too easy when your victims are low-hanging fruit.

The entire armed forces of Finland on parade

     Right, motley, let's see if you can outrun this chainsaw-firing cannon!

"Four Years On The Western Front! By Aubrey Smith
I've nearly finished this work, as we are now into November 1918, the month Ol' Aubs won a bar to his Military Medal - which of course he doesn't mention, as that would have seemed like immodest boasting.

The MM.  If you get a 'bar' then that's the same medal awarded again.
(And they do not give these things away in packets of breakfast cereal)

     If you've been paying attention then you will know he served in the transport section of the First Battalion, London Rifle Brigade, from mid-1915 onwards.  The logistics trains that serviced the front-line troops are rarely, if ever, mentioned in any memoirs, so it's interesting to see quite what was involved with supplying an infantry battalion.  Ol' Aubs also served in what are called "Lines of Communication" troops, who were on a very cushy number indeed.
     Ol' Aubs came from an office background in London, as did all his original battalion members, which meant he was quite mentally switched-on.  He mentions that the British press would loudly proclaim the successful blowing-up of a Teuton ammunition dump, yet never mention a British one suffering the same fate.  True, Aubs, but there was also such a thing as not giving the Teutons a free gift of information.

Windmill, Achicourt

     Here we come to one of the things that made a driver's job hazardous, even if well behind the lines - traffic jams.  It was against orders for a driver or rider to abandon his horses under any circumstances, so if under enemy fire the best you could do was dismount and hold their reins.
     Thus, Achicourt.  Aubs was driving a wagon and limber into this small village, which was dotted with numerous ammunition dumps, mostly of artillery shells.  A long line of lorries stretched from one end of the village to the other, stuck in a traffic jam, unable to turn off the road as there were smashed houses to either side.  The whole assemblage sat there, immobile, for ages and the inevitable happened - Teuton artillery observers spotted it.  When shells started to fall, Aubs got his limber away and under cover smartish, as Achicourt proceeded to explode incessantly for several hours when first one ammo dump blew up and then another.
     Again, one of his close friends, Kimbo, was killed by a shell whilst stuck in a traffic jam on a road that got strafed by Teuton shells.  So, being a transport driver did not mean an easy life.

What passed for a road in those days

Finally -
Hmmmm, tonight's installment has been rather grim, hasn't it?  Nor have I gone into any details about Rufus, the Demon Core.  Perhaps tomorrow for that; a little too much gritty entertainment can leave my gentle readers feeling a bit punch-drunk.
     So, what light and frothy nonsense can I conjure up for a brief mention?  There was that conversation I had with Darling Daughter about <ahem> boobplate armour - but perhaps not, as it needs some background or you'll think Conrad is but an aging pervert (not that you'd necessarily be wrong, he just doesn't want it bruited about any).
     Aha!  How about my latest (soon-to-be) addition to my British Official History of the First World War?  This was Volume 5 of "Naval Operations", the original Thirties hardback, for only £11.  I came across it at work whilst searching on Abebooks, and then realised I'd forgotten my password, so I couldn't order it until I got home - and this, of course, was the night that First Bus decided nobody was going to catch a bus to Royton if they could prevent it.  I think I got the bid in before someone else did, but we shall have to wait and see - hence the 'soon-to-be' bit.

I shall soon have 6 of these 9!!
(clutches self with excitement)

*  I made this insulting word up.  Imagine it to be something unspeakably rude that you'd not mention in front of your parents or the vicar.