… because it wasn’t a sequel, it was the second World War.
Heaven knows, I am not a professional historian. I genuflect, with admiration and respect, to those who’ve turned that metier into a glowing, on-the-page career. But I am a writer, with an enthusiast historian’s affinity for ‘standing where they stood’, and for using language to cast new light on some of that fascinating, old stuff.
I do use better words than ‘stuff’. Sometimes.
From every theatre of conflict, stories emerge about scelestic, inhumane intent being tempered by the resourcefulness, resilience, and patriotic resolve of man. Those accounts of conflicting ideologies and their idealistic counterpoints provide a rich seam of material for anyone who is curious about how-on-earth we achieve peace.
From the rhetoric recounted at the time, to the treasure-trove of serendipitous trivia and abundance of technical facts’ salad that’s both well and poorly-recorded since ~ there’s a lot of raw material to work with. I enjoy writing about it all. I make no apologies for using words like ‘scelestic’ on purpose.
Some of these essays focus on language. Others take a wry look at operational aspects of the second world war—I do have the luxury of not being a subject-specialist. A few might try to achieve both aims by tugging at the rhetorical strings holding key events together, and there’ll be some random wittering no doubt. One or two essays may or may not be written under the influence of too much strong coffee.
Good luck with those.