Category Archives: nationalism

Liberating Bukovina, August 1917

From The Other Trench: The WW1 Diary and Photos of a German Officer, by Alexander Pfeifer and Philipp Cross (True Perspective Press, 2024), Kindle pp. 243-245:

1.8.1917 At 6 o’clock in the morning, my company again takes the lead towards Moldauisch Banilla — terrible heat. The Hutsuls erect triumphal arches for us and distribute bouquets of flowers. Almost all of them have beautiful faces. As always, the Russians have looted and burned everything during their retreat. We again capture five dispersed Russians in front of Moldauisch Banilla.

…

We continue further towards Moldauisch Banilla in the afternoon, which is very heavily occupied by the Russians. Because my company deployed three assault squads, I just have 40 men left and go in reserve. The entire jäger brigade attacks. I receive heavy artillery fire and have two wounded. Moldauisch Banilla is mostly taken towards the evening. This is a large place with a large German colonist quarter and a Jewish quarter. The residents had a bad day in the town, which was bombarded from two sides, with many being dead and wounded. Multiple houses burn. Late in the evening, I move into a Hutsul house in Moldauisch Banilla, where we are given a very friendly welcome by the residents.

…

2.8.1917 Forward march at 6 o’clock in the morning. An old Jew bangs like mad for joy on a Russian drum as we march past. The Russians have cleared the heights to the east of Moldauisch Banilla by morning — the thankful inhabitants kiss my hands while marching through. My company is taking the lead in our division today.

We march over a wooded ridge towards Czudyn. The last Russians disappeared into the forest an hour ago after being shot at by our patrols. It is tropical heat again today. My assault squad, under Lieutenant Fischer, surprises an enemy battalion bivouacking in the village of Neuhütte, which flees under fire and later retreats hastily; so that when we advance, we find the village no longer occupied. During the evening, the residents, who hid in the forests with their cattle for a week, return and kiss our hands with joy. I am staying with a Romanian farmer, and the whole family is touchingly looking after us. A neighbour even brought us a slice of honeycomb.

…

Just as we had made ourselves comfortable, we were alarmed at 3 o’clock in the morning and marched to Czudyn, an endless nest where the other companies took up outposts, whilst my company quartered itself as a reserve in Romanian houses.

3.8.1917 My hostess brings milk and eggs again in the morning. There are eggs, geese, chickens, milk, and an abundance of livestock here, and it is very cheap. I have drunk incredible amounts of milk in Bukovina so far. It was previously called “Mologa” by the Hutsuls, and now “Lapte” by the Romanians.

There is an incredible tropical heat again. At 8 o’clock in the morning, we continue to the church in Czudyn, and my company secures the place via field guards. Bouquets of flowers are presented to us everywhere, and all the horses and carriages are wreathed. We have been pulled out of the front line today and are now division reserves. The Russians are in a hurry to flee. They didn’t burn anything apart from the bridges in Neuhütte and Czudyn.

I am living with Poles. My company is stationed as field guards.

…

4.8.1917 I slept wonderfully in a proper bed. In the morning, I march behind the battalion that marched ahead over Idzestie and to Petroutz, where there is a longer lunch break. I then catch up with the battalion in Kupka. We encounter thunderstorms twice, the likes of which I have never experienced before. We attack Fantana Alba (Rom. ‘White Fountain’) towards the evening, where the Russians want to prevent us from leaving the forested mountains. We stay in the forest as brigade reserves, where we can fortunately light large fires and dry ourselves. I was wet to the skin despite the rubber coat. I am spending the night on the stove bench inside a lonely Ruthenian forest keeper’s house, inhabited by 1000 flies.

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Carpathian Front, August 1916

From The Other Trench: The WW1 Diary and Photos of a German Officer, by Alexander Pfeifer and Philipp Cross (True Perspective Press, 2024), Kindle pp. 173-174:

25.8.1916 There was thick fog during the night — the ground is littered with fireflies — an enemy patrol is being driven out.

The food is good and plentiful, but it usually only arrives late in the evening when it is dark because the road lies under artillery fire. There are three different types of field-kitchen food — Pearl barley with mutton, beans with mutton, and dried vegetables with beef. Besides this, we also get half a loaf of bread every day, and alternately some lard substitute, Dutch cheese, canned sausage, and marmalade. We also get cubes of coffee daily, and sometimes tea.

The night before last, we caught a Russian officer’s orderly who had gotten lost and came to us with the food and coat intended for his master. He was very surprised at how he was suddenly captured by us.

26.8.1916 Wonderful warm, sunny day. We are now living rather well because we have been brought up several boxes with all kinds of things from the canteen. For breakfast this morning, we had tea with marmalade bread, liver sausage, and Swiss cheese; and for lunch, asparagus spears, fried potatoes, one egg, roasted meat, and 1901-dated Tokay wine. We eat out of the field kitchen in the evening.

Two Russian patrols are being shot at in the night.

28.8.1916 The declaration of war by Italy and Romania was reported to us via telephone this morning. Maybe now we will reach the Romanian border. There was shooting from patrols on several occasions during the first half of the night.

Heavy rain. It is raining into my shelter, so I am having a wooden roof put on it today.

29.8.1916 The weather is nice. I now have a medium mortar in my sector, which launches mortar shells with a diameter of 18 centimetres and a weight of one quintal. We just zeroed in on the field-guard summit with four shots. Those things have a huge impact; the Russians will have run away nicely as a result. They have constantly been shouting “Hurrah!” since yesterday evening, and have also stuck out a signpost on which Romania’s declaration of war is most likely written. They probably think that this is being kept secret from us, or they want to annoy us with it. Our mortars are the correct response to this.

30.8.1916 There was artillery fire to our left for several hours from 4 o’clock in the morning onwards, the likes of which I have never heard in the East. The volleys follow one another without interruption. It must be within the vicinity of the Jablonika Pass where the Austrians have retreated to in the last few days. We are always happy when we don’t have Austrians next to us, as you can’t sleep peacefully otherwise. As kind as the Austrian is as an associate, he is just as unreliable as a soldier — Always according to the motto: “Make room. The Germans want to attack. The Germans are braver people!”

I was just guiding the Count through my position which the Russians must have smelled, because they sent over plenty of shells and shrapnel from 10 to 12 o’clock at noon, although without success. Since my hut doesn’t provide enough cover against artillery fire, I am now having a stronger shelter built in a more protected area where the sun also shines all day, as it is well needed up here.

The strong artillery fire to the left of us is continuing all day.

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German Officer’s Kit, 1914

From The Other Trench: The WW1 Diary and Photos of a German Officer, by Alexander Pfeifer and Philipp Cross (True Perspective Press, 2024), Kindle p. 15:

Yesterday evening gave me a big surprise. 11 large sacks of post had arrived, including a number of parcels and letters for me which had only been in transit for seven days. It is always a joyous celebration when the post arrives. I am well-equipped, and I have plenty of clothes. The excessive amounts cannot be carried, and I have just seen my suitcase here for the first time again in eight days. The processing of promotions is very slow. The officer-deputy, Totzek, was promoted to officer at the beginning of September, and the recognition from the Kaiser has still not arrived today. It will not take long for me to get the Iron Cross, as my actions at Notre Dame de Lorette made a great impression. I should have it in four weeks’ time at most if I don’t get wounded in the near future. All the officers now have it with the exception of Prince Reuss, who came to the battalion with me.

When we march, I carry on my knapsack that I named Badger — a coat, a canvas and cooking tools. Inside as reserve: 1 spare shirt, 1 pair of underwear, 6 pairs of socks, 1 woolly undercoat, 1 cummerbund, wristlets, pulse warmers, 1 towel, felt shoes, a field cap, washing and shaving stuff, a map with writing tools and tinned rations consisting of 2 double portions. Also, 3 small tin cans with cocoa and one with salt; often even vegetables and 1 bottle of red wine too. Hanging on my belt: Sabre, pistol, ammunition bag with bullets, cigarettes, mints, sugar cubes and matches. My bread bag holds letters, a first aid kit, cutlery; and a load of small things like bread and bacon and so on. I also have a field flask, a cup, mittens, and binoculars around my neck. The burden is therefore quite large. I also have a load of spare clothes and one pair of laced shoes in my suitcase. Our orderlies wash all our clothes on our rest days. We live wonderfully and happily here in Arleux, but we always have to be ready to leave within 10 minutes.

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Relieving Lwów in 1919

From Kosciuszko, We Are Here!: American Pilots of the Kosciuszko Squadron in Defense of Poland, 1919-1921, by Janusz Cisek (McFarland, 2025), Kindle Loc. 361ff.

Despite his harrowing experiences and incomplete recovery, [Merian] Cooper had no intention of returning to the U.S., nor of indulging in a more than well-earned rest. He quickly discovered another passion, service in the American Food Administration, which had started its activities also in Poland. Its chairman Herbert Hoover, had already visited Polish territory in 1913 and in November 1915 sent Vernon Kellogg there. He was to evaluate the situation of those in Poland who had been affected by the war. The situation was tragic. Right until the end of the war, the country had been pillaged by the German, Russian, and Austro-Hungarian armies. According to Hoover’s findings, the front rolled across some parts of territories populated by Poles seven times, causing death and enormous destruction to the infrastructure. Agriculture was particularly badly hit and due to this fact the food situation deteriorated. Many areas had not been sown for several years, others had fallen into neglect because of the death of the owner, lack of machinery or an epidemic. The worst disasters affected the poorest layers of society and children. When Poland again roused herself to an independent existence she not only faced military threats from East and West, but was forced into battle against hunger and epidemics, which attacked her together with the Bolshevik armies advancing westward.

The prices of basic articles increased repeatedly several-fold. Even firewood was rationed due to lack of coal. The tragic food situation was reflected in the reports of the U.S. Military Attache to Warsaw. Herbert Hoover had already drawn attention to the suffering in Poland in his speech entitled “An Appeal to World Conscience,” enumerating it along with the suffering in Belgium, northern France, Serbia, Romania, Montenegro, Armenia, and Russia.

At Hoover’s initiative on January 24, 1919, Congress passed an appropriation bill of $100,000,000 to finance appropriate aid. In a later period, the financial aid was significantly increased. Prior to this resolution, Hoover, in December 1918, before the official recognition of the Polish government by the U.S., sent Kellogg to Warsaw to ascertain Poland’s needs and to examine the possibilities of providing effective help. Kellogg together with Colonel William R. Grove and others arrived in Warsaw on January 3, 1919, almost at the same time as Paderewski. After a tour of most of the centers, Hoover’s envoys estimated that from a general population of 27 million who were under the control of the Warsaw government, at least four million were famine stricken, and another million were in need of additional nourishment. Shortly after, food distribution stations run by Americans appeared in many Polish towns. In May 1920, at the height of the operation, 1,315,490 Polish children were being fed on a daily basis. There was particular hardship in Lwów and the surrounding area. Much of central and western Poland had escaped military threat and the presence of foreign armies, but Lwów was the arena of an extremely complicated conflict. During the partitions, the town was one of the most shining centers of Polish culture and also home to Pilsudski’s strongest military centers. Lwów itself had a strong Polish majority; however, the villages of eastern Galicia remained Ukrainian. The only Polish element in the countryside was the intelligentsia and landowners. On November 1, 1918, when the Austro-Hungarian monarchy was in a complete state of impotence, the population of Lwów was surprised by a proclamation of the establishment of the Western Ukrainian People’s Republic and by a Ukrainian military action which aimed to occupy the city. For the next three weeks there waged a severe and bloody battle. Not until November 21, 1918, did volunteer and regular Polish units come to the relief of the occupied city.

The defense of Lwów passed into history as an example of heroism, patriotism and the determination to unite this territory with Poland. Unfortunately, it was not a conclusive victory. Lwów and the immediate city outskirts continued to come under fire from Ukrainian artillery. The only railway line linking Lwów with Poland was sabotaged, and trains derailed several times. Practically every transport going to the city had to fight its way by force. There was no electricity, water or food supplies in the city. It is not surprising that the U.S. Food Administration considered food-aid for Lwów as one of its tasks. Merian Cooper was placed in charge of the mission there.

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Defending a New Poland, 1919-1921

From Kosciuszko, We Are Here!: American Pilots of the Kosciuszko Squadron in Defense of Poland, 1919-1921, by Janusz Cisek (McFarland, 2025), Kindle Loc. 67ff.

The presence of American airmen in the Polish army was preceded by a series of efforts between the individual enlistment of officers, soldiers and citizens of the United States and the drafting of a separate American legion to fight in Poland. Endeavors in this field lasted as long as the Polish–Bolshevik war itself. Their one tangible result was the establishment of the Kościuszko Squadron, a military unit unique in being the sole representative of the Western Hemisphere in this war, since in 1920 the only regular military forces helping Poland were the army of the Ukrainian People’s Republic under Ataman Semen Petlura and a small Belorussian Army under the command of General Stanisław Bułak Bałachowicz. Unlike the American volunteers, both of these formations fought primarily for the independence of their own nations.

The efforts of representatives of the Polish Republic were based on a variety of factors. The main one was the threat of German and Russian revolution and the continuation of the war in Eastern Europe. When Poland regained her independence in 1918, her borders were not yet defined. Her administration was based mainly on the dedication of civil servants of Polish descent, who remained on their jobs after the fall of the three occupying powers, Germany, Russia and Austria-Hungary. The Army comprised barely a few tens of thousands of veterans of the Polish Military Organization, the Polish Legions, and officers and soldiers who gradually flowed in from the armies of the partitioning powers. After four years of war, during which enemy armies plundered everything that could be of any use, there was nothing left in Poland. The infrastructure of roads, railways, bridges, water-supply systems and power-plants was almost completely destroyed. One must remember that the front rolled through some areas several times.

Józef Piłsudski, Commander-in-Chief and Head of the Polish State, and the entire nation faced an enormous challenge. Confronted by shortages, many Polish politicians turned towards the West. It was not only about delivering aid to a suffering population. It was also of primary importance to repel the Bolshevik armies approaching from the east and to prevent the communist revolution in Russia from uniting with the German “Spartakus” movement. However, the young Polish state did not possess enough military might.

Thus Pilsudski’s attention concentrated on bringing to Poland the 80,000 strong army of General Józef Haller, which included a significant number of Polish residents of the United States and which was still stationed in France after November 1918. In fact, it remained there until April 1919, and became the pivot of many plans both political and military within the Polish National Committee, and also in French, British, and American circles. Haller’s Army was officially chartered in France by a decree of the French president on June 4, 1917. Following insistent appeals by the famous pianist Ignacy Jan Paderewski to President Woodrow Wilson, permission was given also to recruit Poles living in America. Up until the end of the war, 24,260 American Poles served in the army’s ranks. The rest were recruited from prisoners of war, Poles living in western Europe, and Polish volunteers from other countries. That superbly trained and equipped army was no mere bagatelle in November 1918, when Poland reappeared on the European map. For both the Americans and the Poles, it had already set a precedent—as reborn Poland’s first army recruited from beyond her national territory and as the first American contingent to fight beyond its own national boundries in the sole interests of a foreign state.

The hope given by the existence of this precedent was rekindled when some of the hundreds of thousands of demobilized soldiers and officers of the American Expeditionary Force (AEF), who were mainly based in France, indicated their readiness to serve, even under a foreign flag. It did not only affect Poland.

Among the important factors, it is also worth mentioning that as a consequence of the partitions, a significant group of Polish officers served in the armies of other states, which obviously influenced organization of the Polish army after over a century of occupation. In November and December 1918, the cadre of officers, at first derived from the Polish Legions of Józef Piłsudski, began to fill with Poles who, lacking other opportunities, had trained and become officers in the Austro-Hungarian, Russian, or to a lesser extent German armies. One can assume that in the Polish Army there was a conducive atmosphere for the transfer of officers and soldiers from other armies. We already mentioned here the consistent threat to the Republic, prevalent from the very beginning of its independent existence. Polish politicians and the military thought that a foreign military contingent would have a restraining influence on the appetites of both her large and small neighbors. On the assumptions made above, Ignacy Jan Paderewski, a few days after the signing of the armistice in November 1918, asked the American Secretary of War Newton D. Baker for permission to discharge all soldiers and officers of Polish extraction from the American Army to enable them to serve in the Polish Army. According to various estimates—independently of Haller’s army, which was not a part of the American Armed Forces—there were approximately 200,000–230,000 officers and soldiers “of Polish extraction” who were serving under the Star Spangled Banner. It needs to be stressed that in the aforementioned appeal to Baker, Paderewski was only concerned with Polish “resident aliens,” excluding American citizens. Baker, who had been considered a friend to Poland, refused, fearing that the officers and soldiers would serve a nationalistic cause, which he suspected Poland of propagating. This argument managed to convince Wilson, thanks to which the project failed.

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Goa Falls to Portugal, 1510

From Conquerors: How Portugal Forged the First Global Empire, by Roger Crowley (Random House, 2015), Kindle pp. 249-252:

AT THE ISLAND OF Anjediva, Albuquerque was surprised to meet a small squadron of four ships bound for faraway Malacca, on the Malay Peninsula, under the command of Diogo Mendes de Vasconcelos. Manuel had airily ordered this insignificant force to conquer the place. Some of the financing had been provided by Florentine investors; their representatives included Giovanni da Empoli, who had accompanied Albuquerque on an earlier voyage. Empoli found the governor “very displeased at the defeat sustained in Goa and also about many other things.”

Empoli’s surviving account, written probably two years later during a bout of scurvy while becalmed off the coast of Brazil, is sour and peevish. He recounts how Albuquerque was obsessed with Goa, determined to return and take it as soon as possible; he needed all the forces he could muster, including the squadron bound for Malacca, and, given the wearisome ordeal in the Mandovi River, he needed to be sly about his tactics in order to get consent from his commanders. Albuquerque had seen the potential of the island, and he feared that the return of a Rume fleet could render it an impregnable base against Portuguese interests. He stressed the approaching threat of a new armada. To Empoli, the Egyptian menace had become a phony war: “the news about the Rume was what had been expected for many years past, but the truth had never been known…at present such news could not be considered as certain because of the lack of credibility on the part of the Muslims.” Privately, he accused Albuquerque of concocting letters, with the aid of Malik Ayaz in Diu to bolster his case.

Whatever the truth of this, Albuquerque quickly managed to reason, bully, or cajole the fleet, including the Malacca squadron, into a new strike. Given the sensitivity of the Portuguese factions in Cochin and Cannanore, this was a considerable feat. Word from the ever-alert Timoji informed him that Adil Shah had left Goa to fight new wars with Vijayanagar; the moment was right. Two months of frenetic refitting and reprovisioning readied the fleet. At a council in Cochin on October 10 he imposed his will on the captains: let those who would follow him, follow. Those who refused must give their explanations to the king. The matter of Malacca and the Red Sea would be rapidly returned to afterward. Again, by sheer force of personality, and some threats, he carried the day. Diogo Mendes de Vasconcelos, with the reluctant Florentines in tow, agreed to postpone the visit to Malacca. Even the mutineers in the Ruy Dias episode, who had preferred to stay in prison, were released and joined up. On October 16, Albuquerque was writing a letter of justification to the king, explaining yet again why he persisted with Goa: “You will see how good it is, Your Highness, that if you are lord of Goa you throw the whole realm of India into confusion … there is nowhere on the coasts as good or secure as Goa, because it’s an island. If you lost the whole of India you could reconquer it from there.” This time it was not just a matter of conquest. Goa was to be utterly purged of a Muslim presence.

On the following day he set sail with nineteen ships and sixteen hundred men. By November 24, the fleet was back in the mouth of the Mandovi. Increasingly the Portuguese did not fight alone. Within the fractious power struggles of coastal India, they were able to pull small principalities into their orbit. The sultan of Honavar sent a reputed fifteen thousand men by land; again Timoji was able to raise four thousand and supply sixty small vessels. Adil Shah, however, had not left Goa undefended. He had placed a garrison of eight thousand men—White Turks, the Portuguese called these men, experienced mercenaries from the Ottoman empire and Iran—and a number of Venetian and Genoese renegades with good technical knowledge of cannon founding.

Deciding not to wait, on November 25, St. Catherine’s Day, Albuquerque divided his forces in three and attacked the town from two directions. What followed was not a triumph for the organized military tactics he had been trying to instill. It was the traditional berserker fighting style of the Portuguese that won the day. With cries of “St. Catherine! Santiago!” the men rushed the barricades below the town. One soldier managed to jam his weapon into the city gate to prevent it from being closed by the defenders. Elsewhere a small, agile man named Fradique Fernandes forced his spear into the wall and hoisted himself up onto the parapet, where he stood waving a flag and shouting, “Portugal! Portugal! Victory!”

Distracted by this sudden apparition, the defenders lost the tussle to slam the gate shut. It was ripped open, and the Portuguese poured inside. As the defenders fell back, they were hit by another unit, which had smashed through a second gate. The fighting was extremely bloody. The Portuguese chroniclers reported acts of demented bravery.

…

The Muslim resistance collapsed. Men tried to flee from the city across the shallow fords, where many drowned. Others who made it across were met by the Hindu allies. “They came to my aid via the fords and from the mountains,” Albuquerque later wrote. “They put to the sword all the Muslims who escaped from Goa without sparing the life of a single creature.” It had taken just four hours.

Albuquerque shut the gates to stop his men intemperately chasing their enemies. Then he gave the city up to sack and massacre. The aftermath was bloody. The city was to be rid of all Muslims.

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Portuguese Adopt Swiss Tactics

From Conquerors: How Portugal Forged the First Global Empire, by Roger Crowley (Random House, 2015), Kindle pp. 227-229:

Manuel, chronically fearful of entrusting power to any one man, had decided to create three autonomous governments in the Indian Ocean. Nominally Albuquerque had authority to act in only the central segment—the west coast of India from Gujarat to Ceylon. The coasts of Africa, the Red Sea, and the Persian Gulf were the domain of Duarte de Lemos. Beyond Ceylon, Diogo Lopes de Sequeira had responsibility for Malacca and the farthest Orient. This dispersal of forces was strategically flawed, as neither of the other two commanders had sufficient ships for effective action. Albuquerque not only saw the pointlessness of this division, he also believed that no one was as capable as himself. Over a period of time, he found ways of obtaining the ships of the other commanders and integrating them into one unified command, without royal say-so. It made for an effective deployment of military resources; it also made him enemies, both in India and back at court, who would snipe at his methods and malign his intentions to the king.

Equally unpopular was the issue of military organization. The massacre at Calicut had highlighted the shortcomings of the way the Portuguese fought. The military code of the fidalgos valued heroic personal deeds over tactics, the taking of booty and prizes over the achievement of strategic objectives. Men-at-arms were tied by personal and economic loyalties to their aristocratic leaders rather than to an overall commander. Victories were gained by acts of individual valor rather than rational planning. The Portuguese fought with a ferocity that stunned the peoples of the Indian Ocean, but their methods were medieval and chaotic and, not infrequently, suicidal. It was in this spirit that Lourenço de Almeida had refused to blast the Egyptian fleet out of the water at Chaul and Coutinho had attempted to march into Calicut with a cane and a cap. The laudatory roll calls of fidalgos who went down to the last man pepper the pages of the chronicles. Yet it was clear, too, though cowardice was the ultimate smirch on a fidalgo’s name and the merest whisper of a refusal to fight had ultimately cost Lourenço his life, that the ill-disciplined rank and file could crack under pressure.

Albuquerque was certainly in thrall to Manuel’s messianic ideas of medieval crusade but, like the king himself, he was also keenly aware of the military revolution sweeping Europe. In the Italian wars of the late fifteenth century, bands of professional Swiss mercenaries, drilled to march and fight as organized groups, had revolutionized battlefield tactics. Highly maneuverable columns of trained men, armed with pikes and halberds, had steamrollered their opponents in tight mass formations. Albuquerque, with the energy of a zealot, set about reorganizing and instructing men in the tactics and disciplines of the new warfare. At Cochin, he formed the first trained bands. Immediately after his return from Calicut he wrote to Manuel, asking for a corps of soldiers practiced in the Swiss techniques and for the officers to instruct the India men. As it was, he proceeded anyway. Men were formally enrolled in corps, taught to march in formation and in the use of the pike. Each “Swiss” corps had its own corporals, standard-bearers, pipers, and clerk—as well as monthly payment. To encourage the status of this new regimental structure, Albuquerque himself would sometimes shoulder a pike and march with the men.

Within a month of his return from Calicut, he was again sailing north up the coast of India, this time with a revitalized fleet: twenty-three ships, 1,600 Portuguese soldiers and sailors, plus 220 local troops from the Malabar Coast and 3,000 “fighting slaves,” who carried baggage and supplies and in extreme cases might be enrolled in the fight. The initial objective of this expedition appears to have been ill-defined. There were rumors that the Mamluk sultan was preparing a new fleet at Suez to avenge the crushing defeat at Diu. But Albuquerque kept his cards close to his chest. Anchored at Mount Deli on February 13, he explained to his commanders that he had letters from the king to go to Ormuz; he also dropped in news of the Red Sea threat—and casually mentioned the subject of Goa, a city that had never figured in Portuguese plans. Four days later, to the surprise of almost everyone, they were embarked on its capture.

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Afonso de Albuquerque vs. Ormuz

From Conquerors: How Portugal Forged the First Global Empire, by Roger Crowley (Random House, 2015), Kindle p. 173:

That Albuquerque possessed an intemperate streak was becoming increasingly apparent, not just to the hapless Omanis but also to his own captains. It was usual for the captain-major to consult with his ship commanders and, often, to be subject to a vote of the whole group. Albuquerque, intelligent, impatient, and possessed of an unshakable belief in his own abilities, had no such tact or cooperative spirit. The captains had been nominally informed at the start of the Omani expedition, but as the weeks wore on the relationship became strained. By mid-September they were inside the mouth of the Persian Gulf, increasingly distant from the key task to which they had been assigned: blocking the mouth of the Red Sea. The drive up the Arabian coast had one clear destination in Albuquerque’s mind: the island city of Ormuz, a small nugget of parched rock anchored offshore that was the axis of all Gulf traffic between Persia and the Indian Ocean. It was an immensely wealthy trading place—the great Arab traveler Ibn Battuta had found it “a fine large city with magnificent bazaars” and tall handsome houses. When the Chinese star fleet had called, they’d declared “the people of the country…very rich….There are no poor families.” It controlled the famed pearl fisheries of the Persian Gulf and dispatched large numbers of Arabian horses to meet an insatiable demand among the warring empires of continental India. “If the world were a ring, then Ormuz would be the jewel in it,” ran the Persian proverb. Albuquerque was well aware of the city’s reputation and strategic worth.

Aggressive action against Ormuz seems to have formed no part of his instructions from King Manuel to “establish treaties.” The harbor was thronged with merchant ships when Albuquerque arrived, but he proceeded in customary style. He refused all gifts from the king’s messengers; his reply was simple: become vassals of the Portuguese crown or see your city destroyed. The chief vizier, Hwaga Ata, concluded that Albuquerque, with just six ships, was a seriously deluded man, but on the morning of September 27, 1507, in a hubbub of noise, Portuguese bronze cannons again outgunned a far larger Muslim fleet. The vizier quickly sued for peace, accepted Manuel as his lord, and agreed to payment of a hefty annual tribute.

Albuquerque saw the hand of the Christian God at work in the victory.

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Venezuela’s Malaria Battle

From Venezuela’s Collapse: The Long Story of How Things Fell Apart, by Carlos Lizarralde (Codex Novellus, 2024), Kindle pp. 241-243:

Chávez, Chavismo, and its intellectual supporters in Venezuela and abroad, had argued since 2004 that the old liberal state could not produce people who cared for the well-being of the majority. The “representative” governments from the 20th century had not been able to deliver for all. But if there is an area where the liberal state was able to create long-lasting institutions with veritable results, it was health care.

The first nationwide, publicly funded efforts to eradicate malaria started during Rómulo Betancourt’s first government in 1945. The program had begun under the old generals in the mid-1930s. Dutch, British, and American oil companies had been active in the eradication of the disease in their areas of influence. But Betancourt’s social priorities and taxes on oil companies provided a new impetus. The efforts led by Dr. Arnoldo Gabaldón started with a massive campaign to eradicate mosquitoes in malaria zones. Within three to five years malaria had disappeared from the areas where the infecting mosquito predominated, although the WHO would not certify the disease had been eradicated from the country. Betancourt and his party would be thrown out by a coup in 1948, only to return to power by February of 1959. One of his first acts the second-time around was to name Dr. Arnoldo Gabaldón as Health Minister. The renewed emphasis and funding would officially free the country of malaria by 1961. Gabaldón’s work did not stop as efforts to build a robust central health authority continued for a decade. Critically, his lifework had been dedicated to getting the academic and practical experience necessary to build such an organization.

Gabaldón had started work as an assistant at the Ministry of Health in 1928, when generals still ruled the country. This gave him an early acquaintance with the ins and outs of the health bureaucracy across the country. He then studied at the German Institute of Naval and Tropical Diseases and the Italian Experimental Station for the Antimalarial Battle, before returning to Venezuela in 1932. He received a health science doctorate from Johns Hopkins University in 1935 through the Rockefeller Foundation and interned at Rockefeller University in New York City.

Upon returning to Venezuela, he joined the Ministry once again. At that time, fighting malaria was the country’s number one priority. By 1945 no pathogen, including the influenza virus that caused the 1918 pandemic, caused more deaths than malaria in Venezuela. The population had declined between 1891 and 1920 because of the disease. The historical devastation caused by malaria no doubt contributed to the zeal with which a generation of reformers fought a tireless battle against it.

First in his front-line role eradicating malaria, and then as the builder of a first-class health ministry and epidemiology network, Gabaldón delivered the most enduring results in the history of Venezuelan health care. Over three decades he dedicated himself to reforming, modernizing, and growing an existing, prior organization. The deep differences between Betancourt’s perspective and that of the military governments he had overturned had no real impact on Gabaldón’s work. His formula of achieving scale through incremental reforms, long-term training of middle cadres, deploying compliance systems, and creating strong legal frameworks, continued until the 1970s. Gabaldón was able to defeat every health challenge he met, to international acclaim. The epidemiology systems he created prevented the return of any serious epidemic for more than forty years, until everything he had built was dismantled.

Gabaldón’s legacy was overturned in the name of the people’s originary wisdom and the virtues of intuitive decision-making in health matters. Yet, no one suffered more than those in whose name the health sector was destroyed. By 2017, over a decade into the Chavista dismantling of the liberal state, more than 400,000 Venezuelans had been infected by malaria. This increase amounted to 84% of the rise in malaria cases between 2010 and 2017 around the world.

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Korean POWs in Hawaiʻi, 1940s

From Most Prisoners In Hawaiʻi’s WWII Internment Camp Were Korean, by Kirsten Downey (Honolulu: Civil Beat, 5 September 2025). While hundreds of Japanese-Americans were the first held at Honouliuli, many more Koreans followed:

The Honouliuli internment camp in central O’ahu is best known in Hawaiʻi as the place some 400 Japanese Americans were detained during World War II.

But new research is bringing to light the fact that Koreans were the largest single population group there.

In fact, there were seven times as many Koreans held there as Japanese Americans. Of the 4,000 people held, about 2,700 were Korean, captured elsewhere and brought to Hawaiʻi, and about 400 were Japanese Americans who had been living and working in Hawaiʻi when the war broke out.

The Koreans were prisoners of war who fell into American hands as U.S. forces made their way across Oceania fighting Japanese imperial forces, who had seized lands all across the Pacific, including in China, the Philippines, the Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia) and French Indochina (now Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos), Guam, Hong Kong and Singapore.

Most of the Koreans were in fact doubly prisoners: The Japanese, who had invaded and conquered Korea in the early 1900s, had conscripted many of them against their will. Dragooned by the Japanese, they then ended up American prisoners when the Japanese garrisons fell.

The little-known fact that Koreans made up the lion’s share of residents at the internment camp is becoming the focus of new academic scrutiny and discussion.

Korean Prisoners Identified

Last year, researchers at the University of Hawaiʻi’s Center for Oral History began a new collaboration with the National Park Service to collect accounts from the Korean or Korean American descendants of people who were detained at the camp or who worked there to incorporate this new information into current understanding and historical interpretation.

This work builds on the scholarship of Duk Hee Lee Murabayashi, president of the Korean Immigration Research Institute in Hawaiʻi, and Professor Yong-ho Ch’oe, who taught Korean history at the University of Hawaiʻi and was the author of a book about Korean immigration to Hawaiʻi called “From the Land of Hibiscus: Koreans in Hawai‘i, 1903–1950.” Ch’oe died last year.

Murabayashi has identified the 2,700 Koreans held at Honouliuli, providing their names and home locations, which is helping people identify their deceased relatives.

…

‘A Complete Shock’

The fact that so many Koreans were present in the camp during World War II has come as a surprise even to the Korean community.

“Until a few months ago, I certainly did not know about Koreans who, during World War II, ended up as prisoners of war right here in Hawaiʻi at Honouliuli Internment Camp,” said David Suh, president of the United Korean Association of Hawaiʻi, at a recent talk hosted by the park.

“It came to me as a complete shock,” said Edward Shultz, former director of the Center for Korean Studies at the University of Hawaiʻi and the immediate past president of the Korean American Foundation.

…

As the war progressed and American forces began advancing on Japanese-controlled strongholds, they took a number of Koreans into custody as prisoners of war, bringing them to the internment camp at Honouliuli. According to the National Park Service, hundreds arrived after each battle in the Pacific, including from Guam, Peleliu, Tinian and Palau, sometimes intermingled with Japanese prisoners.

Following the 1944 battle in Saipan, the NPS reported, about 350 Koreans arrived, all noncombatants, many with bullet and slash wounds. The bullet wounds came from the American troops, but the Koreans also appeared to have been victims of sword attacks by Japanese, suggesting they suffered systematic abuse.

Relations between the Koreans and the Japanese Americans at the camp became at times so strained that they had to be kept separate from each other, said Professor Alan Rosenfeld, the associate vice president of academic programs and policy at the University of Hawaiʻi, who has spent years studying Honouliuli.

“There are archival incidents of Koreans and Japanese fighting,” said Mary Kunmi Yu Danico, director of the University of Hawaiʻi’s Center for Oral History, who is leading the project to gather oral histories of the descendants of people who lived or worked at the camp.

…

Word began to seep out in Hawaiʻi that Koreans were there, probably because the American military hired some local Korean Americans to serve as translators and guards at the camp.

The first published report that Koreans were living at Honouliuli came in the pages of the Methodist Church bulletin in 1944, according to Murayabushi [Murabayashi!]. Church leaders had apparently been told that many Korean men in their 20s and 30s were being held there, and that they were bored and lonely. The first notice about their existence came when the church asked if anyone had spare musical instruments they would be willing to donate so the men could entertain themselves.

Later, church leaders began organizing an outreach to them, delivering Christmas gifts and arranging to loan them books.

That means there may be people living in Hawaiʻi today who recall those years and those interactions. Murayabushi [Murabayashi!], Danico and Ogura are asking people to come forward to share those memories.

For an earlier blogpost about Korean POWs in WW2, see Koreans, Taiwanese, and Okinawans Among Japanese POWs. See also Origins of Korean POWs in Hawaii, excerpted from an article by the late Yong-ho Ch’oe, mentioned above. Prof. Ch’oe was a fine scholar and a kind gentleman.

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Filed under Hawai'i, Japan, Korea, labor, language, migration, military, nationalism, U.S., war