A GLIMPSE INTO BULGARIA’S COMMUNIST PAST Close to the centre of Sofia, in an ordinary, non-descript housing block, is a unique time capsule. The Red Flat is an apartment that has been set up to replicate a family residence typical of 1980s urban Bulgaria. I went along for a look, and found unique museum providing a fascinating insight into life in communist Bulgaria. After buying my ticket at a shop around the corner, I buzzed the Red Flat from the…
AIRSPACE AND THE SPACE RACE I’ve always been a bit partial to aviation history, and when I heard that Plovdiv was home to Bulgaria’s National Aviation Museum I was keen to have a look. After a few dramas trying to find the correct platform for my train, I rode to Mavrudovo Station and piled out. A short walk and I arrived at the gates of the Aviation Museum, which had a decidedly Eastern Bloc feel. When I arrived at the…
I turned off the road onto the access track, which was covered in a layer of crisp brown pine needles. Pulling up in a clear spot under the trees I switched off the car. When I opened the door the sweet smell of pine flowed in thickly on the warm air, and cicadas screeched from the trees. It reminded me of December in Australia, of opening the front door of our old house, stepping in out of the heat and…
BENEATH THE WATERS OF GALLIPOLI For most Australians, the Gallipoli campaign conjures images of soldiers fighting grim and desperate battles on the steep country above ANZAC Cove. However the struggle for control of the Straits of the Dardanelles began as a naval operation by the Allies, and it was only after this failed that a land invasion was attempted. Naval support, in firepower, supply and evacuation, continued throughout the 10 month campaign. Turkish shore batteries, mines, German submarines and accidents…
I remember hearing the place names when I was a kid. Strange sounding, exotic names: The Dardanelles, Gallipoli, ANZAC Cove, The Nek and Lone Pine. I remember seeing the scratchy black and white footage of troops on the beach, and of trenches and camps dug into the steep cliffs. I later discovered that a relative on my father’s side, Jack Gibbs, had been at Gallipoli in 1915. Visiting Gallipoli was the reason I had returned to Turkey. My relative Jack…
Jacques Cousteau was the first to dive on the S.S. Thistlegorm in the 1950s. Sadly, as was the practice at the time, he took various items from the wreck, including the ship’s bell. Cousteau kept the location of the Thistlegorm quiet, and it was not until the early 1990s that divers once again located the site, using information from fisherman. The UK’s Dive magazine estimates that since then, over one million divers have visited the wreck. The dive boat lurched…
Merchant seaman are arguably the forgotten heroes of World War II. Sailing the unarmed, or lightly armed, cargo ships that delivered troops and vital supplies was a dangerous game. Merchant shipping endured constant threat of attack from the air, or from the silent, unseen submarines beneath the waves, and one in four merchant seamen who served in WWII lost their lives. Crewman ranged in age from mere children in their mid-teens, to seasoned mariners in their seventies. On board the…
I had spent an enjoyable, but ultimately disappointing, couple of days searching the area west of El Alamein for the Blockhouse (see Searching for the Blockhouse Part I). I was still keen to find this surviving landmark from the final battle at El Alamein, but I was running out of ideas. The following day, Germans tanks and troops counterattacked, and a fierce battle raged around the Blockhouse. Holding a small, approximately one square kilometre area that included the Blockhouse, the…
Somewhere along the railway line, west of El Alamein, Egypt, stands an unremarkable, low concrete building. There are many of these old railway workers’ huts, in various stages of ruin, stretched out along the line. However this particular place was the scene of an extraordinary occurrence in 1942, when compassion and humanity prevailed over war’s chaos and carnage. After spending a few days in the noise and bustle of Alexandria, I hired a car and drove west on the International…
‘He fell fighting to end wars. Let his efforts be not in vain’ An afternoon sea breeze is blowing, shaking the scant grasses that struggle up between the coarse white gravel. I am alone, and far enough from the major highway that the only sounds I hear are natural. Before me stands the Australian War Memorial, near the entrance to the El Alamein War Cemetery, glaring white in the early afternoon sun. On one side of the monument, carved into…