German Fascist Memorial in Tirana, Albania

German War Memorial, Tirana Park, Albania

German War Memorial, Tirana Park, Albania

More on Albania ……

German Fascist Memorial in Tirana, Albania

A German fascist memorial in a country where more than 30,000 died in the struggle to liberate themselves from the scourge that was devastating Europe.

In an earlier post I wrote about the English Cemetery in Tirana. This has had a long and complicated history, mainly due to the extreme antagonism the imperialist British state had towards the young Albanian Republic. Even after the establishment of the cemetery there remains controversy as the memorial stone was looted from the original grave of the Albanian Communist leader, Enver Hoxha. He was disinterred from his place of honour next to Mother Albania in the Martyr’s Cemetery, overlooking Tirana, and reburied in the municipal cemetery in a western suburb of the city.

But however anti-communist the British forces sent to Albania might have been, however much they tried to find pro-British, monarchist forces that were not tainted with the stigma of fascist collaboration (unsuccessfully) and however reluctant they were to give arms to the only viable force prepared to risk everything to defeat the fascist invader (i.e., the Partisans under the leadership of the Communist Party) at least they were on the same side (if only for the duration of hostilities).

Between them first the Italian and then the German Fascists were responsible for the deaths of more than 30,000 Albanians – exact figures are difficult to know due to the very backward nature of the country at the time and the lack of any reliable pre-1939 census statistics. This was out of (again estimated) population of just slightly over a million. Thousands of houses were destroyed, the economy shattered and an immense task had to be taken on by the new People’s Republic without receiving anything in the form of reparations from the aggressors and without even their own gold reserves (which were stolen by the fascists, ‘liberated’ from them by the British who then refused to return the bullion to the new socialist state, the rightful owners, on a pretext it was held as ransom for reparations that Albania owed to Britain for the damage done to British war ships in the so-called ‘Corfu Incident’).

So what does the government, that has swept away virtually all of the gains made in the period from 1944 to 1990, do in response to this history of death and destruction? Give space for a memorial to something like 2,200 German soldiers who died in reaping this devastation on the small Balkan country.

Altar and Engraved Stones, German War Memorial, Tirana Park, Albania

Altar and Engraved Stones, German War Memorial, Tirana Park, Albania

Now that might not necessarily be due to their fascist sympathies (although the manner in which the remains of the self-proclaimed king, feudal landowner and tyrant Zogu was returned to Albania last November indicates such). What is certain is that they want to curry favour with the present day German government as Albania seeks membership of the European Community.

Engraved stone, German War Memorial, Tirana, Albania

Engraved stone, German War Memorial, Tirana, Albania

One time when I went by this memorial/cemetery (there are the remains of 60 soldiers buried there) someone was cutting the grass and generally making the location look tidy. This was galling as having travelled quite extensively throughout the country I had witnessed how many memorials to the Albanian dead have been neglected and even looted of some of the valuable stone.

What’s also annoying is that the Albanian people are forgetting their own history and the struggles carried out by those who fought against the very fascists who have a well tended memorial in Tirana Park.

A statue of Liri Gero (a young communist from the town of Fier, who joined the partisans along with 67 other young women from the town on 14th September 1943, and who was later, on 6th October 1944, captured (wounded) by the fascists who then burnt her alive) – who was posthumously declared a People’s Hero of Albania – now stands behind the National Art Gallery in Tirana, abandoned and out of site and not in a place of honour which her sacrifice demands. Her name Liri means Freedom in Albanian.

Present day Albanians prefer subservience to freedom and celebrate their oppressors in place of those who fought for National Liberation.

What’s even more annoying is that in the same park, just the other side of the English cemetery, about 100 metres up the path, there’s a modest memorial to a group of children who established an anti-fascist underground organisation in 1942 under the guise of a debating society. This has not been as badly vandalised as some monuments I’ve seen but it’s certainly neglected and if you either don’t know of its existence or not looking for it will be easy to miss. Notice in the picture the star (painted red originally) HAS been vandalised.

GPS:

N41º 18.845′

E19º 49.348′

Memorial to Anti-fascist Children's group, Tirana Park, Albania

Memorial to Anti-fascist Children’s group, Tirana Park, Albania

It’s a sad reflection on the present that so many in Albania don’t seem to care about the past and the sacrifice so many made to liberate their country from fascism.

GPS:

N41º 18.882′

E19º 49.270′

More on Albania ….

A tall ship under sail

Tall ship under sail

Tall ship under sail

More on sailing on a tall ship

Images of a tall ship under sail whilst sailing north, on the western edge of the Bay of Biscay, in March 2013.

Just as the best view of the Liverpool seafront is from the opposite side of the River Mersey, so the true grandeur of a tall sailing ship can only be really appreciated when you are not on it. From the Pierhead you see Birkenhead, from a tall ship you see the sea.

On some of the other posts I have attempted to give an impression of what it’s like to be sailing on a tall ship; the way it seems to effortlessly cope with aggressive and threatening waves; how the sails take the power of nature and convert it into forward motion; how the evolution of the sails shows the ingenuity and inventiveness of past generations of seamen; and this you experience whilst standing on the deck as the vessel moves through the water.

I hope that the images I’ve added to my posts (so far) have given a bit of an impression of what is like actually being on the deck of a sailing ship.

When we were passing the western edge of the Bay of Biscay, on an incredibly calm, warm and sunny day, we were given the opportunity to get a view of the ship from a distance, with nothing (no land or any other vessels) in sight.

By that time the ship was becoming a little battered. The spanker, the sail at the back of the ship, was not set as the boom had been damaged in a gale a few days earlier. That does detract (in a very slight way) from the full grandeur of a tall ship but I hope the pictures in the slideshow below capture something of what makes them romantic to many.

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Gale in the Atlantic on a tall ship

Gale in the Atlantic on a tall ship

Gale in the Atlantic on a tall ship

More on sailing on a tall ship

If you attempt to cross the North Atlantic, from Bermuda to the Azores, in late February/early March then you shouldn’t be surprised if you have to confront some hostile weather. This is the story of our second Atlantic gale.

We thought the potential second Atlantic storm had decided to give us a miss as rumours went around that the swell, which was not insignificant but certainly not wild, taking us into the evening of the 2nd March, would be what would stay with us for a couple of days. It was providing good sailing wind as well as the occasional rogue waves, cutting across the beam, that tossed the ship around. We were wrong. Probably the idea had more to do with wish fulfilment than reality.

When we left the bridge at 20.00 we had been treated to a light and sound show. The flashes of lightning came from all directions, both the sheet and the fork kind. We had had lightening the night before but either those storms were too far away for us to hear the thunder or it was merely a light show. On the night of the 2nd the lightning came accompanied with thunder and just one short, if heavy, shower. The rain stopped, the time between the flashes of lightning and the thunder increased and the sound got softer, the stars started to appear all around and the idea that the storm was not going to hit started to gain credence.

Then just after 22.00 all that changed. The wind speed built up and the seas got rougher. There was a change in wind direction, the helm couldn’t respond quickly enough, the ship made an unforeseen and unplanned wear (this is the term used on a square rigger when the ship changes direction by moving the sails so that the wind is on the other side of the sails) the wind got behind the spanker (the big sail at the stern, over the wheelhouse – just the place people will be when on watch) and BANG, the wooden boom broke. (The boom is a spar along the bottom edge of rigged sail, that improves control of the angle and shape of the sail.)

About 8 foot broke off the end of the boom and hit the deck, miraculously missing two people. (The boom is, or rather was, an eighteen foot pine tree which had been shaped, by hand, to fit the exact requirements of this ship.) Here we are talking about a serious piece of wood – see the image below. If it had hit them that would have resulted in serious injury and, taking into account that we were at least seven days from any land, possibly death. The remaining part of the boom was now at an awkward angle as the ropes and wires that kept it in place are designed for a complete unit and once broken all the tensions were wrong. This had crashed down onto the roof of the wheelhouse (narrowly missing half a dozen electronic communication, warning, monitoring devices) and had to be secured before endangering the security of both the people around and the integrity of the vessel.

Broken spanker boom

Broken spanker boom

I know this was what happened but can’t tell you exactly how as I wasn’t there. I had gone to bed at 22.00 and all I was aware of was the erratic movement of the ship which was making sleeping difficult. I wasn’t aware of all the drama going on just a few metres above my head where the other two watches (and some of the permanent crew) were sorting out the mess.

What I do know is that it took a lot of work to get everything stowed in the manner that it was when I came out at 04.00. Everything was lashed secure, with the shattered boom in two pieces on the deck. The stress must have been immense as the part of the boom that was still attached to the mizzen mast had evidence of splintering along a good six or seven feet of its length.

When we were able to speak to the people on the previous watch we were able to learn that the fun and games went on for some time. Wind speeds were surpassing 50 knots on the anemometer (the wind speed indicator). It only measures up to 50 and I was told that the needle just stayed at its maximum range for a long time. This was much higher than the winds we experienced during the 1st Atlantic storm the week before, when wind speeds reached 50 knots – but only when gusting.

The high winds came with rain and hail and the dark obscured what the waves were doing. That’s the advantage (or perhaps disadvantage) of a storm hitting at night. You can imagine the waves at whatever state you like as visibility is so short. Good for the optimist, not so for the pessimist.

With the damage it had been necessary to alter the configuration of the sails. That meant working in what is known as the well deck. This is the lowest area on the main, outside, deck level on the boat. In heavy seas this becomes awash with water, as it’s designed to, which then drains away when the ship lists in the other direction. Water will get into the well deck on even the most benign conditions but only in small amounts and then more an annoyance than anything else. But in 50 knot winds the situation is different.

The amounts can be huge and the direction and the timings of when the water will land on the deck are impossible to predict. It seems this was what happened when people were working there. They were standing knee-deep in, surprisingly warm (I was told) sea water, trying to pull ropes and then finding that those very same ropes had a life of their own and were trying to trip them up.

After the ropes have been ‘hauled’ or ‘eased’ there is a mess of ends to be tidied up. This mess is called ‘spaghetti’. Before dawn on the 3rd March the spaghetti was in a soup, making it difficult to stand and even more difficult to clear up as the ends of the ropes were being dragged through the drainage hatches as the sea water tried to find its way back to the ocean.

So there were about 4 hours of drama on the night of the 2nd – 3rd, and I missed it all.

I merely came out to survey the damage, stand for a while looking out to the empty sea in a blustery wind, had to work a bit harder at the helm as the ship did it’s dance through the water, got wet a couple of times when water broke over the side of the ship (but never that bad), sat and watched a beautiful sunrise over the stormy sea (but wasn’t able to capture it on film as I had foolishly left my camera in the cabin), and then spent an hour or so sitting in the sun – which is still quite warm whatever the winds might do – until it was time for others to take over. That was my four hours between 04.00 and 08.00.

The ship will be feeling a bit bruised with these last couple of storms. The damage was relatively superficial a week ago, more damage to sails which has been, more or less, rectified. This time the damage has been more structural and I have noticed a few loose ends of ropes where I don’t think there should be a loose end. Others more experienced than me will sort this out in the next few days.

Perhaps some people will be busy when we get to the Azores but, so far, the damage won’t affect our moving on to the UK. The boom has terminal decay and will have to be replaced, but back in Britain. It’s role on the ship is partly to do with maintaining stability for the humans so that might mean we will have to look forward to a few rough days (and nights) before eventually arriving in Weymouth.

Today is a Sunday and the ship’s routine is slightly different. The Watches are suspended for 12 hours between 08.00 and 20.00 and volunteers take over the task of keeping the ship on course without colliding with anything. No general work is carried out and most people use it as an opportunity to catch up with some sleep – that might be even more so as we are in the middle of a gale. Also meals are different, to allow the cooks some rest, and there will be a brunch, a fry-up in place of breakfast and lunch.

Yesterday a wave came through a couple of the portholes in the galley so there will be less reason to season the meal when it’s served at 11.00.

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