Art thought destroyed by the Nazis is discovered

by Sean McLachlan on


The Nazis called it “Degenerate Art”, works that didn’t conform to their taste for Germanic propaganda. Anything too experimental, anything too avantgarde, anything too Jewish, got locked away or destroyed.

Before they did that, however, they held the art up to public ridicule at a 1937 exhibition called Degenerate Art. Thousands of Germans went to this exhibition, although it’s hard to say how many came to lap up Nazi propaganda and how many came for a last look at works they assumed they’d never see again. The photo above shows Hitler visiting the exhibition. Notice how the paintings are hung at angles and angry graffiti is scrawled all around them.

Now a treasure trove of art long thought to have been destroyed by the Nazis is on display at Berlin’s Neues Museum. Eleven sculptures that were part of the Degenerate Art exhibit were found in a rubble-filled cellar on Königstrasse in Berlin. Like most of the city, this street was hit hard in the war and when new buildings were put up, they were built on the rubble of previous buildings. Archaeologists excavating ahead of a new subway line discovered the art.

It’s unclear how these sculptures survived. One theory is that someone who loved beauty more than Hitler hid them away in an apartment that was later destroyed. All the sculptures are fire damaged and some had to be pieced back together, yet this has only added to their dignity. The German magazine Der Spiegel has an excellent photo gallery of the sculptures.

[Photo courtesy Tyrenius via Wikimedia Commons]

The East Highland Way: hiking Scotland’s newest trail

by Sean McLachlan on


I’m in Ft. William on the west coast of Scotland, the starting point for many popular long-distance hikes, including Scotland’s newest trail–the East Highland Way. Over the next six days I’ll be walking 76 miles past lochs, mountains, historic sites, and remote countryside. The hike is so new there isn’t even a guidebook yet, but Kevin Langan, who established the route and is writing a guidebook, kindly sent me some maps. The trail is unmarked, so these maps and a compass will be vital to be making it to Aviemore in the Central Highlands.

I wake up to a beautiful view of Loch Linnhe outside my window. The view is all that’s beautiful. It’s pouring rain, my legs hurt from climbing Ben Nevis yesterday, and I have a persistent cough courtesy of my four-year-old son that makes me hack up great gobbets of phlegm every time I say “loch”. A perfect morning to start trekking across Scotland!

Because of the scarcity of accommodation in this part of Scotland, the days aren’t of even distance. My first stop, the village of Spean Bridge, is only nine miles from Ft. William. Make that eleven since I’m staying west of town, but even so it’s an easy first day. This gives me a chance to walk out my fatigue from climbing the UK’s tallest mountain and gives me time to explore historic Ft. William.

There’s always been settlement along the shores of this loch that opens into the North Atlantic, but the city owes its prominence to the fort that gives it its name. Fort William was an English base to keep the Scots in line. There’s now a movement by some nationalists in town to change the name to something more Scottish! Not much of the original fort survives, and for more information I head to the West Highland Museum. What strikes me about this museum is the focus on the rebellions against the English. While these are a major part of Scottish history and still affect today’s politics, the coverage seems almost obsessive. Weapons and paintings of Bonnie Prince Charlie are everywhere. My own clan, Clan MacLachlan, took part in the rebellions, and what I know of Scottish history is centered around the various Lost Causes my ancestors supported. Not talking about the Scottish rebellions while in the Highlands would be like not talking about the Civil War while traveling through the American South. As I continue on my hike I’ll see places where my ancestors marched and fought, and learn more about their role in Scottish history.

I dawdle in the museum talking to the curator and hoping the rain will ease up, but it only gets worse, so I stop delaying and head on out. The town is unremarkable beyond the beautiful views of the loch. The main street has been given over to tourism and the rest of the town looks a bit run down. At the edge of town is Inverlochy Castle, pictured above. This imposing castle was built in the 13th century to guard the River Lochy and the western edge of the Great Glen, the easiest transit route to the northeast. It’s built in a basic, solid manner with a moat, a square plan, and giant towers at each corner. This isn’t some elegant Renaissance chateau castle, but a practical fortification meant to take plenty of abuse. It was the base of power for the Comyn family as they asserted their influence over much of medieval Scotland. Two battles were fought at this site and almost 800 years later much of the stonework still looks solid.

%Gallery-99692%The route east from the castle is an easy but not particularly attractive one. Like the first day of the Hadrian’s Wall Path and other popular paths, much time is spent getting out of populated areas. The route follows just south of a railway and highway on a dirt trail through managed forest. Logging is big business up here and orderly rows of trees are grown to be cut down and replaced with the next generation. Not exactly primeval woodland, but it does keep the sight of cars from my eyes.

The weather clears, then clouds up and rains, then clears again. This is typical Scottish weather–“four seasons in one day” as the saying goes. Before long I’m in Spean Bridge, a village on the River Spean. I decide the weather and my legs are in good enough shape to take a popular three-mile scenic loop trail near town. It’s the prettiest land I’ve seen all day, mostly unfarmed with wild trees and a real feel of untamed nature. It leads to the mossy ruins of High Bridge, scene of the first battle of the Jacobite uprising of 1745.

Bonnie Prince Charlie had recently landed in Scotland and was gathering the Highlanders to march on England to overthrow the Hanoverian monarchy in favor of his own Stuart line. Clan MacLachlan was quick to join up. If I had been alive at that time I doubt I’d have been enthusiastic about overthrowing one monarch only to be ruled by another, but nobody went against the wishes of their clan chief. While we were still sharpening our swords up north, a dozen men from Clan MacDonald hid at one end of this bridge awaiting a force of 85 English soldiers sent to reinforce Ft. William. On August 16th (my birthday) 1745, the redcoats tried to cross. The MacDonalds shouted at the tops of their lungs, leaping from bush to bush on the steep slope of the opposite bank and firing their muskets. The redcoats thought they were outnumbered and ran.

My ancestors did get to help out in the next battle, at Prestonpans on September 21 (my son’s birthday). On that misty morning, an English army of 2,300 men was virtually wiped out by a fierce Highland charge. This was my ancestors’ sole tactic. A mass of men would charge at the enemy. Once in musket range they’d fire their muskets (if they had them), then charge again into pistol range, fire their pistols (if they had them) and throw them at the enemy. Then they charged into the enemy lines with a shield and dirk in one hand and a sword in the other. The sheer momentum of the howling, slashing, hacking Highlanders was enough to break the English lines. It was a good start to an ill-fated campaign.

The trail continues up a steep bare hill that provides me with a grand view of the rough Highland terrain I will tackle tomorrow. At the summit is a memorial to the British commandos of World War Two. They trained here, not to overthrow one king in favor of another, but to overthrow a mad dictator bent on world domination. Never in history has the line between right and wrong been so clear cut. Nearby is a sobering garden where people leave photos of loved ones who fought and died in that war and in Iraq and Afghanistan. All my achievements pale in comparison.

Tomorrow: The East Highland Way Day Two: Into the Highlands!

The animals that helped win World War Two

by Sean McLachlan on


Animals have always been used in war, but historians tend to dismiss them as living equipment and say little about their experiences. A new exhibition at The National World War II Museum in New Orleans seeks to right that imbalance by focusing on the war effort of animals on both sides of the conflict.

Loyal Forces: Animals in WWII features life-sized mannequins of horses and mules with original harnesses and equipment to show how they did their work at the front carrying supplies and hauling artillery to places where tanks and trucks couldn’t go. There are exhibits on carrier pigeons and dogs too.

Animals had a high death rate. They were often worked to death or killed in the crossfire, and at times were even eaten by hungry soldiers. On the other hand, some were treated as pets by men desperate for some reminder of home while trying to survive in the midst of hell.

Many became heroes, like Lady Astor, a pigeon that carried a vital message from North Africa despite being wounded in action, or Smoky, a dog that ran telegraph wire for American GIs during the Pacific campaign.

The exhibition is a fitting reminder of the sacrifices animals have made for human folly, but London does one better. At Brook Gate next to Hyde Park there’s a memorial to the animals who served. The inscription reads, “This monument is dedicated to all the animals that served and died alongside British and allied forces in wars and campaigns throughout time. They had no choice.”

Loyal Forces: Animals in WWII starts this Thursday and runs until October 17.

Photo courtesy user Otasiro via Wikimedia Commons.

WWII submarine struggles to survive

by Sean McLachlan on

England’s last submarine built during World War Two needs £1.5 million ($2.7 million) to avoid ending up on the scrapheap of history.

The HMS Alliance was launched just weeks before the end of the war and never saw action. It is the last surviving Amphion class submarine specially designed for long-range Pacific warfare. While it missed the big show, it saw active service until 1973. Now it’s the central display at the Royal Navy Submarine Museum in Gosport, Hampshire, in England.

The HMS Alliance survived its active service unscathed, but is now in sorry shape. Pigeons nest in its corroded hull, and parts of it are actually falling off. Already £4.6 million ($7 million) has been raised for an emergency overhaul, but without the additional funds the submarine will no longer be suitable as a museum.

The Royal Navy Submarine Museum chronicles the history of the UK’s submarine fleet from 1901 to the present day, especially its key role in defending Britain during both world wars. A memorial to the 5,300 personnel who gave their lives in the submarine service is a centerpiece of the museum. Also on display is the Holland I, the Royal Navy’s first submarine, launched in 1901.


Image courtesy Keith Edkins via Wikimedia Commons.

London museum airbrushes out Churchill’s cigar

by Sean McLachlan on

While there have been a lot of angry comments here on Gadling about Egypt’s smoking ban and the even stricter smoking ban in Finland, neither country has tried to pretend people didn’t smoke in the past. Now someone at the Winston Churchill’s Britain at War Experience, a London museum, seems to have decided dead people could get lung cancer and airbrushed out a cigar from a photo of Winston Churchill.

A visitor to the museum noticed that a famous photo of Churchill hanging above the entrance had been doctored to remove a cigar from his mouth. The altered photo and the original can be seen here. The museum denies all responsibility and says it’s investigating, but being a museum they shouldn’t have to wait for a member of the public to correct their history, especially about the very person the museum is named after.

Churchill was Prime Minister of the United Kingdom during World War Two and was famous for lighting up a stogy faster than you can say “Dresden bombing.” He also drank regularly, but his lungs and liver were apparently none the worse for wear since he died of a stroke at age ninety.

Photo courtesy Deutsches Bundesarchiv.