Gas and Horse Training, August 1915

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. 89:

We were on exercise with an infantry platoon from 7 o’clock to half past 10 yesterday morning. Two sections have been formed, and I am in the one belonging to Baron von Wangenheim, a captain of the guards who seems to be very nice. In the afternoon, we shot at discs by the large mine rubble heap at Carvin. The pioneers have their training ground next door, where the people are trained in constructing trenches, shelters, and obstacles; and in destroying and overcoming the latter. We were shown a very interesting attack using smoke and gas bombs. The first produces a white, opaque fog so that the enemy is unable to see a target. The gas bombs, on the other hand, spread an invisible gas that affects the respiratory system and especially the eyes. The effect was extremely unpleasant despite only a weak filling being used. At the spot where such a bomb had exploded 5 minutes ago, we all had to cough violently even with the very strong wind, and our eyes were watering so much that we could hardly see anything.

Then came the main fun — the riding lesson. Only very few can ride properly. A lot have only ridden on some horse in their spare time, and many, including me, have never sat on top of one. The more advanced are having lessons with an Uhlan riding master, and the rest of us with a patrolman. We walked and trotted around in circles for an hour, and this also went very well and without falling off since we received the most patient Uhlan horses. Only the sitting region hurts terribly today. We had the same usual exercises again this morning, then an hour of lessons this afternoon, and now it’s back to riding. We are all supposed to exercise an entire company on horseback tomorrow. How I am supposed to do this after just two riding lessons is a complete mystery to me. In any case, it will be great entertainment for the public. Our captain has already offered to write us holiday tickets to Ostend for next Sunday. I will be going there with Baumbach, of course. We also want to visit Bruges and Ghent if possible.

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Enduring a Cannonade, May 1915

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. 70-71:

Suddenly, at 6 o’clock sharp, a great cannonade starts to our right — the guns boom continuously — the individual explosions can no longer be distinguished. The main shooting is far away from us in the north, but the 16th is also being lit up badly. It looks wonderful how it tremors over there by the heap of bricks. There are round clouds of shrapnel hanging everywhere, and thick black and yellow-green clouds rise from the shells down on the ground. Rifles and machine guns fire at the same time — three aircraft buzz in the air. It was a hell of a racket. But things were about to get better because suddenly we too were under fire. One by one, the shells crash into our trench which is soon filled in in many places. Quantities of sharp shell fragments lie around everywhere. I have everyone but the most essential guards crawl into the shelters, and like so, we endure the bombardment for three hours. To set an example, I am now and then forced to walk along the entire trench with a calm step and an outwardly indifferent expression, whistling a song, so that people cannot say that the officers had slipped away. We remarkably didn’t have one wounded person although at least 100 shells fell into my company section alone. On the contrary, the neighbouring company is said to have three dead and several wounded.

It is now half past 3 and we are not being shot at anymore, but it is still continuing uninterrupted in the north. We are informed that the English attacked again at Neuve Chapelle with great superior numbers, but were repelled. We were probably only lit up like this so that we would believe that we too were being attacked and, in this way, to prevent us from moving our reserves north. I have got a real headache from the hours of banging and roaring. Hopefully, this shooting doesn’t put a damper on our plans, as we actually have to be relieved this evening.

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Trench Life, Easter 1915

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. 63-64:

The trenches are flawlessly constructed. Every rifleman has a small niche of his own with steps leading up to it. Everything is reinforced with sandbags, and everyone stands behind a defensive shield of steel. Most people have tent canvases stretched over them so that they stand dry. Small boxes for bullet cartridges are built into the niche walls, and there are also waterproof boxes with hand grenades scattered throughout the trench. There are even special depots for trenchwork tools, ammunition and so on. Nice and deep shelters are plentiful. As a platoon leader, I have one for me and my orderly. Inside are two sleeping spots on top of each other like in a ship’s cabin. I even have a mattress. Of course, there is a table, wicker chair, oven, wall shelf, coat hangers, and pictures. To heat, we use hard coal which we can conveniently get from the nearest mine. Opposite us lies the French Landwehr. Only single shots are fired during the day, whereas it gets somewhat livelier at night. We are also graced with a few shells from time to time, but they haven’t caused any damage so far.

The weather was nice all day and night on the first day of the holidays, but it has been raining heavily since the morning of the second day. It is now rather filthy in the trenches as a result. We should have been replaced at 9 o’clock in the evening, but it was 1 o’clock in the night when the first replacement arrived. I then led the way through the communication trench all alone and didn’t get lost despite the many diversions. The mud reached high above the ankles, but this was an outright stroll compared to the past. The trench at Richebourg would have been impassable after such tremendous rain. The carriage I had ordered over the phone was waiting for me in Auchy, and I arrived in Billy at half past 2 in the morning where I quickly made a ration (sausage with kraut) on the spirit stove. I was suddenly woken up during the deepest sleep at half past 5 in the morning — highest alert. I thus got out of bed, got dressed, packed my suitcase and loaded the wagon. Just when I was finished, it was said that everyone could lie back down because it was just a practice alarm for the entire division. I then slept the whole day in return.

There was a strong storm with rain last night. Things will look lovely in the trenches tonight. I had some duties today — rifle inspection and instructing the oberjägers. I am going back to the Front for a couple of days again this evening. Captain Beutin is now the commander of the entire combat sector, and I am the company commander during this time. This means that I no longer have to do guard duty, but there is a lot of written and telephone work.

We eat together in peace in the mess hall here, which is set up inside the manor. The price is surprisingly cheap for the good food and drink; only 30 to 40 Mark a month. Extra drinks are of course charged separately. Food and drink are also delivered forward from the mess to the trench. Our electricians have laid wires throughout the entire place so that we have electric lights everywhere. A cable has also just been laid towards the front so that we will have electricity in the shelters in the near future too. We have built shelters at the front that are four metres underground. I feel significantly more comfortable again since being back here. It is a completely different life here than in the boring hospital.

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Trench Warfare, December 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 pp. 33-34:

We finally arrive at the Front safe and sound except for a few lightly wounded people, where the company commander of the 2nd Company, Prince Lippe, welcomes us with a sigh of relief. There is indescribable confusion here. It is still dark, and no one really knows what has happened and who is friend or foe, because the English, who harass us so much anyway, have put on the shakos of our dead jägers and are therefore not so easy to recognise as enemies in the semi-dark. Patrols are consequently sent forward from the communication trenches, where we finally discover that the English had not been so fortunate with their raid as they had hoped. Only half of the foremost trench ahead of the 2nd Company is in their possession — two machine guns too, unfortunately — an entire platoon is also missing. Anyone who didn’t fall was captured.

We can see the English working feverishly from just 30 metres away. With the sandbags they had brought with them, they quickly built shooting slits facing us, and now the most beautiful shootout is already in progress. It is no child’s play given the short distance. I repeatedly urge my men to be extremely careful. I just call a volunteer standing two steps next to me who holds his head out for too long after the shot. At that moment, his head jolts, the familiar and terrible dull sound of the bullet’s impact sounds, and the man slowly collapses. The bullet penetrated the forehead and tore off half the skullcap behind. Still mid-fall, he claws his hands into the wound and smears himself over and over with his own brain. It was a terrible sight. I have seen this wound in particular very often though, because in the trenches there are almost only headshots which have an explosive effect at such a short distance.

Recapturing the trench with an assault does not seem advisable considering the expected large losses. We therefore decide to advance into the communication trenches with hand grenades to try and get the English out this way. But first, the pioneers (engineers) are to work on them with mortars. However, most of the day passes when everything is ready, and the mortars first begin their task late in the afternoon. These are small mortars that hurl powerful explosive charges fitted with fuses through the air at short distances. We soon see the mortar shells swaying in the air. The explosion occurs shortly afterwards with an incredible bang — clouds of black smoke rise as high as a house. The English fire at us in the same way, only their mortars are a lot smaller and not as effective as ours. Besides this, they were poorly aimed on this day.

Our grenade throwers now also advance — Two pioneers in the trench ahead continue to throw hand grenades in front of them. As soon as one explodes, they immediately jump forward into the smoke and throw the next one. A platoon of jägers follows afterwards with fixed bayonets. The rest of us subject the enemy to heavy rifle and machine-gun fire in the meantime. The attacking column occasionally holds up a hat on a stick so that we know how far they have pushed ahead. We then adjust our fire accordingly. We slowly advance this way, and we gain back half of the lost positions in the evening. We of course spend the night in tense vigilance, as it is not impossible for us to be attacked again. Everything stays calm though, and we begin cleaning up the trench as soon as it gets light. This kind of approach must have become a bit scary for the English, as we regained our old positions in a very short time and without any casualties.

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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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Pilots Transit to Poland, 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. 839ff.

After the contracts had been signed, preparations were made for departure to Warsaw. It was predicted that the American pilots would depart in the middle of September 1919. The matter of choosing a route was simplified somewhat by the fact that there was to some extent a rail route already in existence, which went through Germany. From April to July 1919 several tens of thousands of soldiers of Haller’s Army had been transported by this route. However, there was always the possibility of obstruction by the defeated Germans, and transports of special significance became the subject of negotiations and petty decisions. The first period after the cease-fire in November 1918 was the most difficult. As the result of strong German opposition, many transports from Central Europe to France had to pass through Austria, Switzerland and Italy. But this route was too lengthy and went through too many borders, and the Allies stressed the opening of a shorter route. The airmen were not traveling with any military equipment, and they were traveling incognito. This was important since at that time Poland and Germany were in a state of undeclared conflict. The most inflammatory issues in this situation were the anti–German uprising in Silesia, the problem of Gdańsk’s (Danzig’s) future, and the remaining disputed territories where the plebiscites were to be held. Therefore, the Germans could not look favorably on any strengthening of the Polish Army, especially by highly qualified airmen of the American and British Armed Forces. It must be remembered that a substantial group of Allied officers served in the Allied Commission for Upper Silesia, established in August 1919 by the Supreme Command of the Allied Forces. The U.S. army delegate there was Colonel Goodyear. The Commission’s task was to observe the situation in Silesia and prepare conditions for the transfer and assignment of these territories by the Allied Forces. In the first version of the plan to use the America airmen, as we remember, the military authorities in Warsaw had planned to direct them to Silesia, just as Paderewski had.

Taking into consideration all the events mentioned above, the airmen’s trip was carefully camouflaged. Firstly, they were equipped with uniforms of General Haller’s Army, but en route between Paris and Warsaw they could not even wear those uniforms. To avoid unnecessary publicity, Col. Howland recommended that they wear substitute uniforms. Since one of the conditions of the contract stipulated that the volunteers cover the cost of their journey to Poland, they joined up with a Red Cross transport and in Coblenz they joined an “American Typhus Relief” train going to Poland.

Just before their departure, there was a parting of both the Polish military authorities in Paris and of Paderewski. It was a rather warm occasion, which lasted two hours in the Hotel Ritz, where Ignacy Paderewski had his headquarters. Apart from being Prime Minister, Paderewski was also a delegate at the Peace Conference in Paris. After Fauntleroy presented the squadron, Paderewski was supposed to have said, “Nothing has ever touched me so much as the offer of you young men to fight and, if necessary to die for my country.” The next ceremony in honor of the airmen was organized by one of the most fervent promoters of the whole venture, Gen. Tadeusz Rozwadowski, and attended by the newly appointed Polish Minister to the United States, Prince Casimir Lubomirski, Col. Howland, and Gen. Ewing. D. Booth, AEF Chief of Staff. The presence of the latter needs a little explanation. It seems to confirm that, independently of Gen. Howland’s role, the higher AEF authorities also recognized the nature of the expedition and were not opposed to it. The Ukrainian historian R.G. Simonenko said that the presence of Gen. Booth confirmed that the volunteers were an element of international intervention against Russian Bolshevism. The aims of the airmen reached far further than the occupation of Kiev. According to Simonenko, they aimed to march on Moscow.

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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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Loss of Portugal’s Flagship, 1512

From Conquerors: How Portugal Forged the First Global Empire, by Roger Crowley (Random House, 2015), Kindle pp. 268-271:

The Frol de la Mar was one of the trophy ships of the Portuguese fleet. At four hundred tons, it was the largest carrack yet built; equipped with forty cannons, distributed on three decks, its stacked high stern and forecastle made it an intimidating presence among the dhows of the Indian Ocean—a floating fortress that could fire in all directions. At the battle of Diu, it had slammed six hundred cannonballs into the Egyptian fleet in the course of a single day, but its size made it awkward to maneuver in tricky conditions, and it was now old. The average life of a ship on the India run was perhaps four years; the battering of the long voyages and the ravages of the teredo worm turned stout planks to pulp in a short time. By 1512 the Frol had been at sea for ten. It was seriously leaky and required continuous patching and pumping. Albuquerque wanted to nurse it back to Cochin and conduct repairs, but the common consensus was that the ship was a death trap. Many of those leaving flatly refused to sail in it. Only the formidable confidence of the governor ensured a crew. Because of its size, it carried the bulk of the treasure as well as many of the sick and wounded and some slaves as presents for the queen.

The Frol was in trouble, now leaking badly and unable to maneuver with the burden of its cargo and the growing weight of water. It had also anchored to ride out the storm, but water was coming in so fast that the pumps were useless. According to Empoli, “another wave struck it, and the rudder broke off, and it swung sideways and ran aground. It immediately filled with water; the crew gathered on the poop deck, and stood there awaiting God’s mercy.” It was time to abandon ship. Albuquerque ordered some of the masts cut down and lashed together to make a crude raft. The sick and wounded were put in the one ship’s boat, while the remaining crewmen were transferred to the raft in a rowboat. Albuquerque, with one rope tied around his waist and the other tethered to the Frol, steered the skiff back and forward until all the Portuguese had been taken off. Disciplined to the last, he ordered all to leave the ship in just jacket and breeches; anyone who wanted to keep any possessions could stay behind. As for the slaves, they could fend for themselves. Their only recourse was jumping into the sea; those who could not swim drowned. Some were able to cling to the raft but were prevented at the point of a spear from climbing aboard and overloading it. At sea, it was always survival of the most important. Behind them the Frol broke in two, so that only her poop deck and mainmast were visible above the water. The ship’s boat and the raft drifted through the night, “and so they stayed with their souls in their mouths begging God’s mercy, until dawn, when the wind and the sea abated.”

In the Frol “was lost a greater wealth of gold and jewels than were ever lost in any part of India, or ever would be.” All of this had vanished into the depths, besides the gems and bars of gold intended for the king and queen, along with beautiful slaves drowned in the catastrophe and the bronze lions Albuquerque had reserved for his own memorial. And there was something else, equally precious to the geographically hungry Portuguese as they attempted to take more and more of the world into their comprehension and their grasp. It was a fabulous world map, of which only a portion survived. Albuquerque lamented its loss to the king:

a great map drawn by a Javanese pilot, which showed the Cape of Good Hope, Portugal and the land of Brazil, the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf, the spice islands, the sailing routes of the Chinese and the people of Formosa [Taiwan], with the rhumbs [lines marking compass bearings] and the courses taken by their ships and the interiors of the various kingdoms which border on each other. It seems to me, sire, that it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen, and Your Highness would have been delighted to see it. The place names are written in the Javanese script. I had a Javanese who knew how to read and write it. I send this fragment…in which Your Highness will be able to see where the Chinese and the Formosans really come from, and the routes your ships must take to the spice islands, and where the gold mines are, the islands of Java and Banda, source of nutmeg and mace, and the kingdom of Siam, and also the extent of Chinese navigation, where they return to and the point beyond which they don’t voyage. The main map was lost in the Frol de la Mar.

But Albuquerque was already using the new bridgehead of Malacca to seek out and explore these seas for himself. He sent embassies to Pegu (Bago in Burma), Siam (Thailand), and Sumatra; an expedition visited and mapped the spice islands of eastern Indonesia in 1512; reaching farther east, ships sent to China in 1513 and 1515 landed at Canton and sought trade relations with the Ming dynasty. He was tying together the farthest ends of the world, fulfilling everything [King] Manuel could demand.

Unfortunately for the Portuguese, these bold extensions had unforeseen consequences. The Malacca strike had been partially undertaken to snuff out Spanish ambitions in the Far East. Instead it provided the personnel, the information, and the maps to advance them. Among those at Malacca was Fernão de Magalhães (Magellan); he returned to Portugal, wealthy from the booty, with a Sumatran slave, baptized as Henrique. When Magalhães quarreled with King Manuel and defected to Spain, he took Henrique with him, as well as Portuguese maps of the spice islands and detailed letters from a friend who had made the voyage. All these he put to use a few years later in the first circumnavigation of the world, under the flag of Spain, during which Henrique was to prove an invaluable interpreter—knowledge that allowed Portugal’s rival to claim the spice islands of the East Indies as its own.

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Weekend in Łódź (alliterative)

Poland’s large branch of the International Association of Teachers of English as a Foreign Language (IATEFL) held its annual convention in Łódź last weekend. So we took a local train up through the countryside to get there before noon on Friday. Our return trip after the conference ended on Sunday had to be routed through Warsaw because of heavier weekend ridership. We didn’t have reserved seats on the final leg to Kielce, but managed to find seats for the whole trip, which arrived about a half-hour late. That long train had started in Vilnius and would end in Krakow.

Łódź became an industrial powerhouse during the early 1800s, with many textile mills employing thousands of German and Jewish immigrants. The largest plant, Manufaktura, just across from our hotel, was founded by Izrael Poznański, whose family built a palace adjacent to it that now serves as the city’s history museum. The huge brick buildings of Manufaktura have been nicely restored and repurposed into a major market and entertainment district, while some of the older brick buildings nearby have been abandoned. (The Łódź ghetto was the second largest in Poland during World War II, and the last to be liquidated because it was so productive.) I spent a day exploring and taking photographs around Manufaktura and the city museum there while my wife attended the conference.

On Saturday, I explored the major pedestrian mall, Piotrkowska Street, which runs north-south, starting above Liberty Square (Plac Wolności), with its Tadeusz Kościuszko Monument, where a band was playing when I first passed. On my way back, I heard a preacher shouting loudly in English, with each utterance translated into Polish (somewhat less loudly). Signage showed that the city was that weekend celebrating Kocham Łódź (I Love Łódź) Festiwal Nadziei (Festival of Hope).

On Sunday, I explored the University of Łódź area near Fabryczna, where the huge central train and bus station is located. We had time between the conference and our train departure to enjoy a traditional meal at Imber Restaurant off Piotrkowska. The rustic Zalewajka soup and Łódź-style pickled herring on sour cream were wonderful.

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