In September 1960 a south London family received this postcard of Los Angeles Harbor Freeway at night.
The Freeway was described on the reverse of the card as:
…a vital segment of the fabulous Super-Highway System, connecting all parts of the vast Los Angeles Basin. One of the world’s most heavily traveled highways.
The message on the card read:
How about trying your hand on roads like these? This is a terrific city, very prosperous. Temperature has been 90 degrees today. Had a fine week-end in N. York with J.T. Jr. Sent your love to Mr Midgley and got a picture of him. Went to Chicago for two days to see Bob Bacon. Please excuse scribble.
In the early 1980s Geoff received a postcard of Tunbridge Wells from a friend. The message on the reverse of the card read:
Just had a weekend with my friends in Hartfield. Had coffee here Sat morning, 74p for two! As you have not phoned I hope it means that all is well with you. Have had a spot of bother with car and flat is freezing so have not been in touch. On Friday we were told the office would close end of August – well at least they have decided on a date. If you have no other plans, perhaps you’d like to spend your Birthday weekend at Sidcup. Let’s hope it will have warmed up. Please let us know when you can.
In August 1947 George received a postcard from his mother, sent from New York City.
The message on the postcard read:
How are things going with you? Edna and I went to see “The Best Years of Our Lives” this afternoon at the Astor and enjoyed it very much. Going to the eye doctor for the last time tomorrow as he is going away for a vacation next week and will be gone until 15th of September. Hope you are all well.
I’ve been reading George Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia (1938) this week, which includes an eyewitness account of megaphone warfare in the trenches during the early period of the Spanish civil war. Orwell’s description of an unorthodox military manoeuvre is the subject of this blog post.
In the 1930s Spain was politically torn between right-wing nationalist and left-wing republican factions. The nationalists included monarchists, landowners, the army and the Roman Catholic Church. The republicans consisted of workers, socialists, trade union members and labourers, or peasants. When the army (under General Franco) removed the republicans from power in 1936, civil war erupted in Spain.
The nationalists were supported by fascist governments in Germany and Italy; the republican cause was backed by communists in Soviet Russia. Once the fighting started in earnest it became clear that the nationalists were far better trained and equipped. An early defeat for the republicans appeared inevitable inspiring communists, Marxists, socialists and other broadly leftist sympathisers from across the world to travel to Spain to form so-called international brigades to combat fascism.
In December 1936, English author and journalist George Orwell enlisted to fight with the republican militia against the fascist army. Orwell spent six months in Spain, mainly stationed not far from Zaragoza on the Aragon front where initially there was little military action. Homage to Catalonia was written on his return to England, seriously wounded, in the summer of 1937. The book describes Orwell’s experiences with the United Marxist Workers Party (POUM) militia in Spain; it makes clear his commitment to working-class struggle and socialist principles; it documents the lack of munitions, kit and basic supplies available to the republican ‘troops’; and it records his response to the practice of megaphone warfare.
In the early months of 1937 the inhospitable Aragon landscape, combined with outdated weaponry and ammunition, created a military stalemate in the mountainous position occupied by Orwell’s POUM section. Conventional combat methods were ineffective. The most useful weapon was no longer the rifle but the megaphone: ‘being unable to kill your enemy you shouted at him instead,’ explained Orwell.*
Whenever the republican and nationalist lines were within a reasonable distance of one another the shouting began, from trench to trench, across the valley and back again. Orwell indicated that the republicans worked from a script, a set-piece:
full of revolutionary sentiments which explained to the Fascist soldiers that they were merely the hirelings of international capitalism, that they were fighting against their own class, etc., etc., and urged them to come over to our side. This was repeated over and over by relays of men; sometimes it continued almost the whole night.
Orwell remembered one man at a neighbouring post who was an especially persuasive when he had charge of the megaphone:
Sometimes, instead of shouting revolutionary slogans he simply told the Fascists how much better we were fed than they were. His account of the Government rations was apt to be a little imaginative. “Buttered toast!” – you could hear his voice echoing across the lonely valley – “We’re just sitting down to lovely buttered toast over here! Lovely slices of buttered toast!” I do not doubt that, like the rest of us, he had not seen butter for weeks or months past, but in the icy night the news of buttered toast probably set many a Fascist mouth watering. It even made mine water, though I knew he was lying.
The numbers of Fascist deserters – and the absence of any viable alternative – convinced Orwell that this unconventional method of combat worked although ‘at the beginning it dismayed all of us; it made us feel that the Spaniards were not taking this war of theirs…seriously’:
I was amazed and scandalized when I first saw it done. The idea of trying to convert your enemy instead of shooting him! I now think that from any point of view it was a legitimate manoeuvre. In ordinary trench warfare, when there is no artillery, it is extremely difficult to inflict casualties on the enemy without receiving an equal number yourself. If you can immobilize a certain number of men by making them desert, so much the better.
During this phase of the war the use of direct propaganda had developed into a credible technique, almost an art form, used by both sides to undermine the morale of the enemy. Shouting, not shooting, across no man’s land to steal a march on the opponent.
*all quotations are from pages 42-43 of the 1984 Penguin edition of Homage to Catalonia
In June 1949 Winnie sent a postcard from Ramsgate in Kent to friends in London.
On the back of the postcard Winnie wrote:
Thank you for the card. The weather here is very cold. We are wearing big coats. We both look well, in fact sights. Sheila’s face is the colour of her hair and mine is about the same as when I left. We will be home early on Sunday. I have a nice Rock for you. They had the police to control the “Rock Crowd”. My love to you all. Winnie
In September 1962 an unmarried woman received this colourful postcard of Piccadilly Gardens in Manchester from a male friend.
The message on the reverse of the card read:
Here I am in the middle of the Derbyshire Moors, very flat and featureless on top but deep, steep sided valleys are fairly impressive. I came out here for a breath of fresh air, Manchester is oppressive; the top of the moor really is unbelievably flat, and certainly doesn’t reward the climb.