Cranes, Trains And Bright Brass Bras

Given An Opening Like That

I can't really pretend that we're going on an ornithological expedition, can I?  You know, cranes, the bird species defined as a "large, long-necked, long-legged wading bird inhabiting marshes".

     And so, without further ado, we continue into the thrilling world of TRAINS, because - well, if I've been inflicting "Transportation On The Western Front 1914 - 1918" upon myself, you're going to also share the benefit.  Art!

     This is a "Floating crane", for your enlightenment, which were used in the First Unpleasantness at the docks in France to unload large bits of kit from the ships coming over from This Sceptred Isle.  A tank would weight in the region of 30 tons, you see, and a locomotive up to 90 tons, which might have strained the capacity of the dockside cranes.  A floating one could manoeuvre around ships and the jetties in ways a static crane simply couldn't manage, thus making unloading of large, awkward objects a lot easier.  Art!

The harbour at Brest

     To unload ships in a timely manner, you see, required cranes.  Lots of cranes.  Perfidious Albion, being a maritime nation, realised this and built 215 of them on French quaysides.  The problem is finding pictures of them, as cranes and gantries are not really seen as pulse-pounding heart-racing action stuff that boys and girls want to see more of, and there is something of a dearth of derricks.

     You see?  That's Le Havre.  Not a single crane to be seen <sighs>.

     Then there was the problem of what to do with the supplies landed.  They tended to pile up in warehouses or on quaysides, because thanks to all sorts of reasons they arrived higgledy-piggledy rather than to a schedule.  This meant huge supply areas had to be built outside the ports and harbours, and I doubt we're going to find many pictures of those.

     There's a marshalling yard in France for you.  Now, imagine that you need to keep note of all those trucks, whether they are empty or not and if full, what they contain, and where they need to go, in consort with which other trucks, and - O! I say, it's a Hun bombing raid!

     Complicated.

     "Yes but what about the bright brass bra?" I hear you sleazily enquire.  "Purely out of curiosity's sake."  Very well -

     One wonders about this.  Surely the terrified damsel here is from a primitive alien race? for otherwise Conrad balks at a civilisation that can create interplanetary spaceships, ray guns and vacuum-proof spacesuits, yet which cannot find a better material to make bra cups from other than brass.  Which must be rather cold of a morning.  Note, too, that her skirt is made from a fabric textile, so that brass lingerie must be made that way by choice, not necessity.

     You could write a thesis on this one.  Given that the Obligatory Damsel In Distress is about to be launched into the hinterland by a missile, she might be praying for metal lingerie.  And Captain Future, if that is indeed him wielding the ray gun, needs glasses pretty urgently, as he seems to have completely overlooked the ODID not to mention the Evil/Sinister/Alien robot crouched mere feet from him.

     Motley!  Get ready to repel the Mushroom Men From Mars*!

Turning Over A New Leaf

Lots of new leaves in fact, for Conrad has come to the end of his venerable Pukka Pad, that he's been scribbling in for about a year and a half.  I can't simply throw it away as it was used for reference on several occasions; there's a list of the Official Histories of British Divisions in the Great War, which ones I've got and which ones I want**.  O and a list of the various pieces of artwork we went to see at the Juan Miro gallery.  Art?

New versus old

     Plus there are mysterious cryptic notes that could do with a little decyphering.  What's that?  I wrote them so I should know what I'm talking about?  Pshaw!  If only you knew!

Over The Hill With The Swords Of Sixty Thousand Men

Conrad is now up to about 5% of "Le Mort D'Arthur" and we've had a protracted battle between the 'Eleven Kings' and Arthur's army, with the 11K having allegedly assembled 50,000 cavalry and 10,000 infantry.  I say 'allegedly' because these numbers are frankly unrealistic for a fourteenth-century army, as they would not have been able to be provisioned or watered in numbers like that.  

     Nor is that all.  Sir Thomas Malory, the author (do keep up!) has it that 45,000 of the 11K's troops were killed, despite their forces in the field not having broken.  Conrad is ready to call effluvia on this.  You see, in battles up to the Early Modern era, the greatest casualties were inflicted on the side that broke and ran because then they were simply a fleeing rabble unable to defend themselves.  The victor consequently had casualties that were a fraction of their opponents.

"Here's Johnny!"

     I think to make this plausible we're going to have to divide by 10.
     There is more to write, especially on what we might call 'relations' as enjoyed by the characters - which is another story for a different kitchen***.

     Hang on - let me just carry out a swift bout of Google-Fu - no, Thomas Pynchon has not written a new novel yet.  Dog Buns, Tom, get a move on before you boing off this mortal coil!

Finally - 

We don't need much to hit the Compositional Ton today, so what can we end with that's nice and concise?  Aha!  I need to pop on over to The Great War Forum and ask if anyone there knows what the "danger angle" means with regards to artillery pieces, and firing them.  There used to be a correspondent there, Nigel, who had been a gunner in real life, and who could be guaranteed to explain the arcana of the 'Drop-shorts'.  He's not posted for several years now, so he may be retired or just not very chatty any longer.  We shall see!

Close enough

*  You couldn't get away with this sort of thing nowadays.  It would have to be the "Mushroom Persons From Mars".

**  All of them, of course.  Obviously!
***  NOT A LITERAL KITCHEN.