Today's wind neatly demonstrates why the French under Team Louis & Napoleon never really had a hope of invading Britain.
Their ports were the wrong shape and size, and in the wrong place.
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At first glance it's perfect invasion weather. The wind is blowing from France to Britain. Royal Navy square rigged battleships can't maintain their blockade and are blown north under reefed topsails to torment the good people of Torbay and Plymouth.
The coast is, well, clear.
But the French have a huge problem.
By quirk of nature they do not have a big, all-weather, deep water natural harbour anywhere on their north coast.
The Brits opposite them have God-given, safe as houses Portsmouth and Plymouth for example.
Calais?! Come on. Ask His Grace the Duke of Medina Sidonia about that anchorage. Calais is simply unworthy of consideration as a major port. I'm sorry.
Dunkirk. Please be serious. That's not an anchorage, it's an anxiety dream. It's as well protected as, um, something not very well protected.
Le Harvre and Cherbourg just don't exist in anything like their modern form. In 1692 French ships simply had to beach themselves at cherbourg because they didn't fit in the harbour and the English promptly landed and burned them. It's neither safe nor a haven.
Sure William the Bastard sailed from St Valery in 1066 but look at that shambles.
A silty estuary. If you're William, or his son, or gr grandson you can use a port like this for your little fleet of shallow draft boats, but that's where big ocean going battleships go. To. Die.
Your only option is Brest. In the far west. Great natural harbour. But it's also facing west. And, as they are today, those Atlantic gales roar in from the south west so your ships are trapped in harbour by exactly the same gales that have chased off the British
Also. It's in the MIDDLE of nowhere. The furthest extremity of France. As if Britain's best port was at the tip of Cornwall or the top edge of Cumbria. It is physically impossible to sit thousands of sailors & tens of thousands of troops there for weeks waiting for a fair breeze
They're on the far end of a rocky peninsula with not enough food.
So. The French have to base their warships there, and then gather their soldiers in unarmed troop ships in Boulogne, Dunkirk wherever.
Time after time in the long 18th Century the French try & get their fleet out of Brest, sail round to pick up their troops ships, which don't know exactly when they will arrive, don't know when to cross their yards, embark their men & get to sea
At which point the weather changes. As it does. And the Royal Navy re-enters the chat.
1692. Barfleur La Hogue an Anglo Dutch fleet intercepted the French on their way to fetch their invading army. 1744. The French were battered by a storm as the two arms of the operation utterly failed to link up.
1745. French hardly even pass Go. Hopeless.
1759 the French fleet was annihilated by the British at the Battle of Quiberon Bay after leaving Brest on its way to pick up troopships for an invasion of England.
Most important defeat of the Anglo-French wars. Yup. Come at me.
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You will struggle to find a more jaw dropping story of naval skill and gallantry than that of USS Johnston at Leyte Gulf:
In one of those strange & terrible chance events USS Johnston, a little destroyer of 2,000 tons, found itself facing the largest battleship ever built, Yamato, 70,000 tons, talismanic flagship of the Japanese fleet. Capable of firing a broadside twice the weight of Bismarck’s.
AND alongside Yamato, THREE other massive battle wagons, SIX heave cruisers and an ensemble cast of other ships.
A story of two Battle of Britain aces, combat, love, heartbreak and death.
One day this will be a movie.
Patrick Woods Scawen joined the RAF in 1937. He flew a Hurricane over the family home and younger brother Tony was sold. He joined up the following year.
He had poor eyesight so he learned the eye chart off by heart and bluffed his way in.
On Tony’s first flight his big brother sat in the instructor’s seat.
As a child during WW2 Maxwell hid alone in the woods of what is now Ukraine. He was hunted. He survived by foraging. He rescued a baby in the aftermath of a massacre of other Jews.
He’s now the subject of a major new movie. And he’s on the podcast.
His father had been taken away & murdered soon after the German invasion. He had managed to avoid several sweeps of the ghetto but was finally discovered in his hiding place.
His grandfather was then executed in front of him.
After some time with his mother and sister in captivity their turn came. They were told to get onto trucks. In the tumult of that moment his mother, clutching his little sister, simply told him to ‘run.’
Somehow he evaded the guards & fled. His mother & sister were then killed.
'I shall never lead a war against Russia. I shall make sacrifices to avoid it. A war between Austria & Russia would end either with the overthrow of the Romanovs or with the overthrow of the Habsburgs – or perhaps the overthrow of both.’
Franz Ferdinand
His murder became the pretext for the war that had been his life’s work to prevent.
Hope for all of us. He was soon to be promoted from Captain to Brigadier General in just three years, becoming the youngest general in the British Army
Stefan Zweig's description of Europe after WW1 is familiar:
"An era of frenzied ecstasy & chaotic deception, a unique mixture of impatience & fanaticism. Everything that promised an extreme... experience, every form of narcotic-morphine, cocaine, heroin sold like hot cakes
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Schools councils....were set up, with young people keeping a sharp eye on the teachers & making their own changes to the curriculum, because children wanted to learn only what they liked.
There was rebellion, purely for the fun of rebelling against everything once accepted, even against the natural order and the eternal difference between the sexes