The Shorkneys: Orkney (and Shetland) in the World Wars; the Italian Chapel

(Note: "Shorkney" is not a real word. We're just using it to write about our recent trip to Aberdeen, Orkney, and Shetland.)

Orkney is probably best known for its neolithic sites, and rightfully so--they're undeniably haunting and unspeakably old. (Don't worry, we'll get to them in an upcoming post.)

But Orkney also had a major role to play in World War I and World War II, largely thanks to Scapa Flow, the enormous natural harbor bounded by the southern islands of the chain.

(Trust me, it's a big harbor. That's not more than 1/4 of it!)

During World War I, Scapa Flow was designated the main base of operations for the British Grand Fleet. Previously, British naval forces in Europe had been based along the English Channel, across from France, Britain's traditional enemy. But as the threat of war with Germany loomed, the British decided to move their forces to the north to make it easier to patrol Germany's various routes of access to the North Sea.

In fact, after World War I, the German fleet was moored in Scapa Flow while the belligerents were negotiating the Treaty of Versailles. Before the fate of the fleet was determined, however, the Germans scuttled all 78 ships, partly in protest over their extended captivity (the sailors' comrades in other branches had long since been sent home), and partly to prevent the ships from falling into British or French hands under the terms of the peace. The nine German sailors who died (under British gunfire) during the action are widely regarded as the last casualties of World War I.

Today, many of the German ships still lie on the floor of Scapa Flow, making Orkney a popular destination for scuba divers, despite the very chilly water. You can also see many of the blockships the British sunk in the approaches to Scapa Flow to prevent German raiders from entering the harbor.

For most of World War II, the British Fleet was in constant fear that a German U-boat might slip into Scapa Flow and wreak havoc on the ships moored there. It didn't take long for British fears to be realized: only a few weeks into the war, a German submarine did sneak into the harbor and sunk the HMS Royal Oak.

After the sinking of the Royal Oak, the British worked hard to seal off the eastern approaches to Scapa Flow. The results of these efforts can still be seen today: the Churchill Barriers, four causeways connecting the Orkney mainland to some of the southern islands.

The Italian Chapel

But the physical legacy of WWII isn't limited to sunken ships and military architecture: the Italian prisoners of war who helped build the Churchill Barriers also built the beautiful Italian Chapel on the tiny island of Lamb Holm.

The Italian Chapel is one of those unexpectedly wonderful little human-interest stories that litter the history of the Second World War. The bones of the building are two quonset huts joined together, and from the side the building is kind of mundane.

The rest, though, is anything but. The Italian prisoners, using bits of scrap metal and various tools and paints donated by their British captors, adorned the building with an elegant facade . . .

. . . elaborate painted walls and ceilings . . .

. . . altarpieces and candlesticks . . .

. . . lanterns (from corned beef tins, seen hanging in the long photos above), and a baptismal font (built around the bottom of an oil drum and a huge spring).

The majority of the Italian prisoners were sent home before the chapel could be finished, but the primary architect and artist, Domenico Chiocchetti of Moena, stayed on to complete his work.

A Further Note: This post has been mostly about the enduring physical legacy of the wars, seen in natural features like Scapa Flow or buildings like the Italian Chapel.

But it should also be said that, in terms of lives, Orkney and Shetland also contributed more than their fair share to the wars. We haven't read anything to confirm the hypothesis, but Nana supposes this is because in-demand naval skills were simply much more common in Orkney and Shetland than elsewhere, meaning that young men from these areas were more likely to find themselves in dangerous situations.

This legacy can be seen today at sites such as the memorial archway outside St. Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall . . .

. . . and at the cemetery in Lerwick, Shetland overlooking the Knab.

Belated Malta History from the Bottom Up: Malta in the Middle

(This is part of a continuing series of posts on Malta's insanely dense and lengthy history, as told via the conceit of an archaeological excavation - from the bottom layer up. Previous posts can be found here: Part 1: Megaliths, Part 2: the Hypogeum and Catacombs, Part 3: Roman to Arab times, and Part 4: Knights of Malta)

Justin's computer is in its death throes, so we backed up all of our photos on my laptop. In the process, we became a bit disoriented (or disorientated, as they say in the UK, for some reason) and lost track of some of our pictures. We'll try to get various make-up posts done soon.

We last left Malta with the decline of the Knights of St. John. The Knights were forced out of Malta by Napoleon when he captured the island en route to Egypt in 1798-9. This out-forcing may have looked something like this:


Or not. Don't ask me; I wasn't there.

Subsequently, Malta became a naval base for the British, which it remained until it obtained independence in 1964. My personal Malta-related creepy-coincidence was its prominent role in the Lymond Chronicles book series. Justin's is the fact that the eldest son of Williamina Belsches, the woman he's researching for his dissertation, died at Malta in some military capacity (the death notice marks him as "Captain William Forbes" but we have yet to determine if it's navy or army. History is fun!)

English is consequently one of Malta's two official languages (the other is Maltese) and the cultural legacy of English rule is strong.

Malta is the only country to display another country's decoration on its national flag (image from Wikimedia Commons)

During the Second World War, Malta occupied a precarious but vital strategic position between Italy and German-occupied North Africa. Britain felt it had to retain Malta to have any operating strength in the Mediterranean, and also to prevent the morale catastrophe of losing another "fortress" island on top of the fall of Singapore. Clearly, it was equally important to the Axis that Malta break.

How bad were things on Malta during World War II?

Malta was raided over 3,000 times. And it wasn't tremendously well-defended, either: at one point in April at the height of the bombing, Malta had precisely one plane to fly against the Luftwaffe - which was better than another time in April, when it had none. (The word "gutsy" doesn't even begin to describe the pilot of that one plane). The Maltese controllers were reduced to telegraphing fake signals in the hopes that the Luftwaffe would listen in and think defenders were scrambling. Consequently, the German bombers generally got through, and "[f]rom 1 January to 24 July 1942 there was only one 24-hour period when no bombs fell on Malta." Some Maltese actually turned to the old Roman catacombs as air-raid shelters, which must have felt a bit ghoulish but was probably rather effective. Malta's Opera House, destroyed in April of 1942, remains a ruin to this day:


Here are some additional stats from Merlins Over Malta:

In a 24 hour period on 20-21st March 1942 295 tons of bombs fell on Ta’Qali airfield making it the most bombed allied airfield ever.

6,728 tons of bombs to fell on Malta in April, 36 times the amount to fall on Coventry. ...

In March and April 1942 more bombs were dropped on Malta than fell on London during the entire Blitz.

There were 154 days of continuous raids in comparison to London’s 57.

Tough cookies, those Maltese.

To acknowledge this tough-cookiehood and to boost morale, King George awarded the entire civilian population of the island with the George Cross, second only to the Victoria Cross in British honors. And the George Cross, a little silver plus-sign engraved with the words "For Gallantry," now appears in the upper-left-hand corner of the national flag of Malta.

Brief break for a Kleenex.

Okay, where were we?

Right. So. Little silver plus-signs are great for morale but unfortunately won't keep your civilian population clothed and fed or your air force in the air. Malta needed concrete help. That was Operation Pedestal, a massive relief fleet braving air bombing, ocean mines, and U-boats to get food and fuel to Malta. The critical ship in this convoy was the world's largest fuel tanker, called - did I mention the creepy coincidences already? - the S.S. Ohio. A great narrative can be found here, which I will seek to condense.

Heavily targeted by German and Italian bombers and suffering severe losses, the convoy struggled through to Malta. The Ohio was battered and bombed until, a mere forty-five miles from the harbor, she went dead in the water. Quick-thinking and courageous seamen physically tied her to two escorting destroyers. With the help of Maltese harbor tugs and the protection of shore batteries, the Ohio made it into the Grand Harbour - on, in another coincidence for the heavily-Catholic Malta, the feast day of St. Marija. Story has it that she was greeted by cheering crowds, which burst into a spontaneous chorus of Rule Britannia.

May I offer my own personal cheer for the ship that saved Malta?

OH!!!!!! IO!!!!!!!!!

Our Fringe debut: The Importance of Being Earnestina

This post contains a review of the production The Importance of Being Earnestina from the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, 2009

First of all, I should probably explain what the Fringe is, or what it's actually a fringe of. All of my information here is courtesy of my cousin Xela, who did her dissertation on the Fringe, in all its Fringey nuance.

After World War II, Edinburgh started an arts festival. It was intended to revive culture, and probably also to bring in some cash, and Edinburgh was physically almost untouched by the war, so it made a good location. Since the festival (today, the Edinburgh International Festival) was government-sponsored, it was by-invitation-only. Some enterprising uninvited theater companies decided to capitalize on the crowds by setting up shop independently at - you guessed it- the fringe of the festival. The Fringe is now skillions of times larger than the Festival, with over one thousand shows a day. Shows range from children's shows to stand-up comedy to dance to music to improv to opera - if it can be done for an audience, you'll find it here.

This is sustainable because of the Fringe's unique management structure. There is a small board - the Fringe Society - responsible for things like the program, the main box office, and the web site, along with other advertising. They do not select or subsidize any shows. The middlemen are the venue managers (of which my cousin was one), who book everything from university theaters to church basements to giant purple inflatable cows (more pictures here). Theater companies then contract with the venue managers to use the space. A portion of the box office goes back up to the Fringe Society, and although a show does not have to be affiliated with the main Fringe, they nearly always choose to be. With over 1000 shows a day, you have trouble being found if you ARE in the Fringe program and web site. Heaven help you if you're not.

Although there are no numbers (available, anyway) I suspect that lots of shows here lose money. Many are actually free. The Fringe has some cachet in theater circles as a place to be discovered, so many people are here hoping a promoter will pick them up for a tour (especially stand-up comics). There's also, I think, the fact that without the need to be prescreened, anybody can put on a show, picking up some resume cred and some experience. And then of course people do it because being on stage is their passion.

Justin and I saw our first Fringe show yesterday, a student production of Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest, gender-flipped to be Earnestina instead (all the male roles were female, and all the female roles were male).

One of the hallmarks of the Fringe is that you never know if you're going to wander into a cheesy little student production, a phenomenally gifted student production, a terrific professional production, or even a junky professional production. This was clearly a bit on the cheesy side (although other people gave it very good reviews) but that's all part of the whole Fringe experience. In any case, it gave Justin and me a lot of great conversation topics for what could have been adjusted to improve the play and the reverse-gender conceit.

Here are some random thoughts on the play. If you don't know it, by the way, I recommend the film version (with Colin Firth, Judi Dench, et. al). It's very well done.

1. Lady Bracknell becomes Lord Bracknell

This actor was the weakest link in the show. He rushed his lines and sometimes ran over the tail end of the other castmates. But beyond that, he never really used the gender flip to do anything interesting with the character. Lady Bracknell is a famously masculine character, a battleaxe, and it really didn't add much to have her played by a man. Justin and I decided if we redid it, we would have enjoyed seeing a blustery, crusty, harrumphing old man interpretation. Think the elephant from Disney's The Jungle Book: "A handbag! Hrumph humph humph!"

2. Accents

Whenever you do a British show with U.S. actors, the question is always whether or not to put on an accent. At multiple moments in the show, I found myself thinking, "So they are doing accents," and then realizing whoops, they're just actually British. Most of them, anyway - two of the cast, seemed to have other regional accents, or maybe just speech impediments (one sounded Caribbean, one actually sounded French), and were at times very difficult to understand.

3. Venue

We loved the church basement where we saw this show, but it was even better because yesterday was stunningly beautiful, clear and warm, and we got in a hike up Calston Hill before the show. I know some people have asked for pictures, but until we get internet, that's going to be dicey. We took a lot of great ones and I'll endeavor to get them up.

All right! Must get lunch before trying for student tickets to a Chinese production of A Midsummer Night's Dream! As we have no IDs yet, wish us luck.