Showing posts with label WW1. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WW1. Show all posts

Friday, April 08, 2016

Fray Bentos: pies, Oxo, corned beef and tanks



The Legatus' mother was not what you might call a great cook.  In fact, you wouldn't call her a cook at all.  One of the abiding aural memories of my childhood was the sound of my mother scraping the burnt bits off the toast every morning. Unlike today, when busy mothers (and we have a great deal of sympathy for women who have to provide multiple meals every day for their families - it's not surprising many don't enjoy cooking) can resort to microwave meals, back in the sixties the choice of convenience food was much less.  I remember having quite a lot of Fray Bentos tinned pies when I was small and, indeed, a lot of their corned beef too.




This is tinned corned beef, of course, (called bully beef by Triple P's father and everyone else who ate it in the British Army) not the sort of meat you get in a Reuben sandwich in North America, which is called salt beef in Britain.  The British version is canned, minced beef brisket with gelatin added.  There is no corn in it, of course; the word referring to the corns of salt used to cure it.  My early exposure to the words "corned beef" might have something to do with the fact that I invariably mistakenly call a pork pie a "porked" pie, as that was another sixties and seventies staple at the Legatus' house.  What would "porked" pie even mean?  Do you take a normal pie and "pork" it?  This all then then has connotations relating to delicious puddings which we won't go into. Word association being a funny thing, as to me the word "death" conjures up a visual image of corned beef being carved.  Just as the word "heath" also brings to mind the flaky shreds of corned beef you get if your knife is too blunt. I can't rid myself of these images, however hard I try.  So "politics" to me conjures up an image of small boiled potatoes in mayonnaise. This is probably why I can't take the subject or its practitioners seriously.  You look like a nineteen fifties salad (except you would probably be in salad cream not mayonnaise).




When my mother did get a bit more experimental with her cooking, in the early eighties, she would produce her notorious corned beef curry.  This was made by frying up the corned beef, chopped into small cubes, with onion, diced apple, sultanas, tinned tomatoes and curry powder.  You couldn't buy poncey miniature palettes of Indian spices to mix yourself in those days.  You couldn't even buy different sorts of curry powder.  Actually, I used to really enjoy this rather unprepossessing sounding dish and latterly I have revived it at home (although no one else will eat it in my house!) and you can find the recipe here.


World War 1 period corned beef


I only learned about the history of corned beef when speaking to one of my Foreign and Commonwealth Office contacts who told me that Fray Bentos was not just a  company name, as I had imagined, but the firm was named after a town in Uruguay.  I had no idea, but it was the meat packing centre of South America and made a huge contribution to keeping British soldiers fed for a hundred years. The most famous story relating to Fray Bentos is about an eponymous tank in World War 1.

On August 21st 1917, during the Battle of Passchendaele, the Mark IV tank F41, accompanied by seven others, clanked and rumbled towards their objective, some farm ruins which had been fortified by the Germans,  At this time the new tanks carried unofficial names, as did certain artillery pieces and aircraft, given them by their crews.  Tanks were organised by company: A, B, C, D and so on and the practice began of naming the tanks (only the number was official).  Perhaps the crews thought that having names reflected their status as His Majesty's Land Ships but many were rather more informal than the official names used by the Royal Navy. You couldn't see the senior service allowing  a name like Crème de Menthe for example (however much they might have wanted it).  In fact, C company also had tanks called, Cognac, Chablis, Champagne and Cordon Rouge.  It was up to the tank commander to choose the name of his tank and as long as they began with the first letter of the company name and weren't vulgar this was allowed (later in the war this practice was stopped by the humourless top brass).  The commander of F 41 was Captain Donald Richardson who had been a wholesale grocer in Nottingham before the war and had held the licence to distribute Fray Bentos products, Obviously seeing the irony of meat in a can, that was what he christened F 41.




This was the crew's first time in action but soon all the other seven tanks were knocked out by artillery leaving Fray Bentos to crawl on alone and leaving its accompanying infantry behind. Unluckily, German machine gun fire entered through the driver's visor, hitting the driver, second in command Lieutenant George Hill, as well as Richardson. Hill fell wounded onto the throttle and the tank lurched into a large shell crater where it got stuck in such a way that it couldn't bring its guns to bear.  A crew member who jumped outside to release the large unditching beam to provide traction for the tank's tracks was killed by German gunfire and both he and the beam fell against the door trapping those inside.   Machine gun and mortar fire rained down on the tank and injuries amongst the crew increased as the temperature inside hit over 30 degrees centigrade..  When night fell, the Germans launched a number of attacks on Fray Bentos, being seen off by a Lewis gun fired from the tank.  One German soldier managed to get the tank door open but was shot by one of the crew.  As the battle was still going on, Richardson wanted to keep fighting from the tank for as long as possible. The crew remained in the tank for three days having to deal with numerous German assaults and attacks with explosives. When the water ran out they had to drink the acrid water from the tank's radiator.  Their food had run out and ammunition for their small arms was running perilously low.  Given the increasing number of wounds to the crew, one of whom had died inside, Richardson felt that they should make a break for it on the third night.  This they did and escaped back to British lines, having been in the tank for 72 hours, carrying their Lewis guns with them, to deny the Germans the weapons. They became the most decorated tank crew of the war, with Captain Richardson and Lieutenant Hill both receiving the Military Cross and the rest of the tank crew being decorated as well.




Fray Bentos II in Berlin


Richardson, after recovering from his wounds, was given command of another Mark IV, also given the number F41, which he christened Fray Bentos II.  This took part in the great tank assault at Cambrai but was also knocked out.  This time Richardson got out more easily and the damage to the tank wasn't too bad, however.  Unlike the original Fray Bentos, which had been completely destroyed in battle, the Germans recovered it, got it running and paraded it in Berlin.  Eventually, they disassembled the tank to see how it worked.




I've always wanted to do some World War 1 gaming but was really focussed on the early war period until I saw this Mark IV tank at Salute (Great War miniatures, I think).  I have actually assembled it and got the base colour down and I really should finish it, although I am not sure what I could use it for - 1920s Pulp, perhaps.  I really need to finish it!


The original canning plant in Fray Bentos, Uruguay


Given this World War 1 story (and the fact that the British would fire tins of corned beef over the German lines, until a crowd of hungry German troops gathered whereupon they would follow up with grenades, rather unsportingly) it is ironic that Fray Bentos corned beef had a German origin. It was an Anglo-German firm, The Liebig Extract of Meat Company, that built the first major factory in the town in 1863.  Cattle were being killed for their skins in the area and the meat was just being wasted.



The Liebig company realised that they could use the surplus meat to produce low-cost meat products. They introduced the Fray Bentos brand in 1881. They began with a meat extract paste and then introduced a cheaper version of the product in 1899 which they called Oxo.  Interestingly, in this Olympic year, Oxo sponsored the 1908 London games, becoming the Olympics' first corporate sponsor.




The firm took off when it started providing tinned corned beef to the British army during the Boer War.  During World War 1 their adverts featuring Oxo as a welcome warming drink on the front were everywhere. The term "bully" beef, used by my father for corned beef comes from the French name for it; bouilli (meaning boiled).  It was only in 2009 that the British army moved away from supplying British soldiers with corned beef in favour of rather less manly pasta bakes.


An appropriately bovine monument at the Liebig factory in Fray Bentos, Uruguay


By the nineteen forties the Fray Bentos factory employed 5,000 people.  It closed in 1979; never really recovering from a batch of infected corned beef that caused a typhoid outbreak in Aberdeen in the early sixties and suffering under EEC rules regarding meat imports, when Britain joined the Common Market.


The old meat packing plant in Fray Bentos today


Eighty percent of corned beef sold in Britain now comes from Brazil. The factory is now a museum but recently a Brazilian firm started producing corned beef in the town again.  Last year UNESCO made the whole of Fray Bentos' industrial area a World Heritage Site (really!), saying that the existence of "the ensemble of cattle pasture and handling facilities, industrial buildings, mechanical facilities, port facilities, residential fabric and green areas linking the river and agricultural areas to the city of Fray Bentos Industrial Landscape stands out as an example of early 20th century industrial development."


You can't help but think that UNESCO is running out of sites


The Fray Bentos company itself went through a number of owners, The original Anglo-German Liebig firm being bought out by the British Vestey Group in 1924.  In 2011 the brand was acquired by that other canned good giant, Princes, but the Office of Fair Trading wouldn't allow the merger on monopolistic grounds and they had to sell off the Fray Bentos division to Scottish soup supremos Baxters, who have since, horrors, introduced microwaveable foods into the rather traditional Fray Bentos range.

The Legatus likes a corned beef sandwich with tomato, cucumber and piccalilli (an eighteenth century invention: originally Paco-Lilla, or Indian pickle, a British re-imagining of Indian relish).  A former girlfriend of mine, J, now the wife of one of my college friends, makes fabulous piccalilli which sets off corned beef perfectly!

Friday, March 25, 2016

Easter wishes...


Hopes of a long weekend of painting have faded; with demolishing my sister's shed being the order of the day today.  Anyway, from 99 years ago is this rather bizarre card showing the Easter Bunny being being accompanied on  his delivery  round by a German and an Austrian soldier. 

Monday, May 04, 2015

An unexpected Gallipoli family link




My sister came around today to show off her new metal wrist (you can feel the metal under the skin which is deeply creepy in a sort of Westworld/Terminator/Bionic Woman way) and to deliver me a new laptop which I haven't had the nerve to try to get going yet.  I was telling her about my visit to Turkey and my experiences with all the Australians doing the battlefield tours. 

"Did you tell any of them your great uncle died at Gallipoli?" she asked.

"What?  Which uncle?  I'd not heard that!"  I replied, as I hadn't.

I knew about my grandfather's service in the Great War but he was on my father's side of the family.  The great uncle my sister was talking about was my mother's mother's brother and she has been doing research on that side of the family.





Edgar Emil Loynds was born in 1883 in Malmö in Sweden.  He came to England and volunteered for the South Staffordshire regiment as one of Lord Kitchener's New Army regiments formed from August 1914.  As part of the 7th Battalion (33rd Brigade, 11th (Northern Division)) he sailed from Liverpool in early July 1915.  On 6th August 1915 the battalion landed at Suvla Bay as part of a 20,000 man force facing 1,500 German-led Turks. They were the first New Army troops to see combat.  No sooner had they landed than they were told to dig in, losing any element of surprise and momentum and giving the Turks time to call for reinforcements.  The commander of the British forces, Lt Gen Sir Frederick Stopford, was so incompetent and indecisive he was relieved of command on 15th August.  Their opponents were more decisive.  When the Turkish reinforcements arrived on 8th August their commander, Feizi Bey, refused an order by their commander, the German General Otto Liman von Sanders, to attack, saying his men needed a rest. Sanders dismissed Feizi Bey on the spot and instead appointed one Mustafa Kemal in his place.  Kemal had his troops dig in and the fighting escalated on the 9th when Scimitar Hill, where the South Staffordshires were, was set alight by flames from the gunfire. The South Staffordshires were decimated so badly they had to be amalgamated with the remnants of the 9th Battalion the Sherwood Foresters in order to remain a viable unit.  In December, crippled by losses and illness they were pulled out and went to Egypt to defend the Suez Canal.




Not my great uncle, however, as he was killed on 9th August and his name is listed on the Helles Memorial in Turkey.  So, having wondered what all the fuss about Gallipoli was only last week, now I am thinking that if I go to Istanbul again I will have to take the day trip there.

Saturday, May 02, 2015

The Military Museum, Istanbul




Following on from my non-military post about my trip to Istanbul last week I now have a military one!  The last time I went to Istanbul I was participating in a conference at a concert hall right next to the Military Museum (Askerî Müze) but it was closed on the only day I had some free time.  I knew it was close to the Hilton as I had gone to the Veranda bar with my friend B during that trip, so was looking forward to getting in to see it this time.


16th Century Turkish and 19th Century German


It was a nice warm day when B and I wandered along the cat infested street to the very secure entrance (it is located in an operational military base).  The first thing that you see are a number of cannons (there are a lot of old cannons dotted around Istanbul) including a typically ornate Ottoman one from the 16th century.




Dominating the garden in front of the entrance, however, is an 1889 Krupp L35 355m fortress gun from the Mecidiye Fort which defended the Mediterranean end of the Dardanelles.  Weighing around 170 tons, this is the last big fortress gun from the Dardanelles left as the rest were melted down in the sixties.




Standing next to the gun is a bronze statue of a soldier carrying an impossibly large looking shell.  In this 100th anniversary of the Gallipoli campaign it is worth noting the deeds of a hero from the Turkish side, for once.  On 18th March 1915 the allies bombarded the Turkish forts guarding the narrows.  Although the gun (this actual gun) wasn't damaged the crane which loaded its shells was put out of action.



As the allied fleet tried to force the narrows, an artilleryman called Seyit picked up and carried three 275kg shells to the gun, one after another, enabling it to fire at the fleet and hitting the pre-dreadnought HMS Ocean.  The effort caused blood to stream from his nose but he was  promoted to corporal for his efforts.  He was asked to pose for a photograph carrying a shell, shortly afterwards, but try as he might he couldn't lift one and in the picture (above) he is carrying a wooden replica.  He said at the time:"If war breaks out again, I'll carry again!"  A testament to the power of adrenaline!




The museum is in the building previously occupied by the Ottoman military Academy, their equivalent of Sandhurst.  The museum was moved there in 1950 and renovated in 1993.  It feels rather old fashioned today and reminded me of the military museum in Brussels although it is far larger and much larger than the Imperial War Museum.  The ticket to get in cost around £1.75 but I paid an additional £3.75 for a photographic pass which lets you take pictures.


The Last Patrol


The place is vast, as you can see from the aerial view on the ticket, but there is only so much time you can impose a military museum on a young lady so we whizzed around in about two hours.  There are many paintings in the museum and I found myself drawn to all the paintings of the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-1878.  I must resist the Outpost Wargames figures!  B saying it would be good to have an army of men in fezzes didn't help my resolve.


Sultan Mehmed enters Istanbul in 1453


Although I am hopelessly influenced by places I have visited or films I have seen as regards wargames purchases, fortunately I have never had that much of an interest in the Ottomans.  A few years ago, when I was travelling to Malta a lot, I bought quite a few Old Glory Ottomans (one of their better ranges) for the siege of Valetta but painting them looked to be such a  chore that I sold them on eBay.








If you are interested in this period, though, this has to be the best place to visit for inspiration.  They have a number of life-sized reconstructions of troops on display.




Battle of Mohacs (1526) against the Hungarians


The other thing the museum goes in for is really impressive dioramas of battles with full sized figures and equipment in the foreground and excellent painted backgrounds which curve around to give  a real feeling of depth.






The diorama featuring the siege of Constantinople in 1453 was particularly impressive with full-sized cannons and siegeworks in the foreground and  a huge painted background of the walls of the city taking a battering.




I remember reading (probably in Look & Learn when I was younger) about the defensive chain which the Byzantines placed across the mouth of the Golden Horn, in order to prevent a repeat of the situation in the fourth Crusade in 1204 when the Crusaders breached the Golden Horn wall of the City.  In the museum, they actually have part of it on display; probably the most impressive exhibit from my point of view.




Sultan Mehmed dealt with this by laying a roadway of wooden planks and dragging his ships behind the city and into the Golden Horn the other side of the barrier.  A model of the city at the time, in the museum, illustrates this.






There are many rooms of arms and armour, although the museum only displays about 1,000 of its 40,000 item collection.  These are not just Ottoman equipment but also includes a lot of captured equipment too, such as the European helmets shown above.




We spent rather longer in the firearms hall as B has a rather unhealthy interest in rifles.  She told me to take a picture of this Sharps for S, in Vancouver, who owns a modern reproduction of one.




Personally, I was more interested in the weird and wonderful like this Belgian pinfire revolving carbine.  What an ugly gun!




Or how about this petrol driven magnetic mechanism rifle?




And what on earth has happened to this Winchester?   B is a blur of excitement in the background as she seeks out all the German made weapons (of which there are a lot).



Here is a Nordenfelt gun.  The Turks used these at Gallipoli.






Although much of the museum is quite old-fashioned (you forget that Britain is a world leader in museum design and display) but there was a theatre area that looked more modern which had displays of Turkish soldiers through history.  I hadn't appreciated that Turkey fought in the Korean War.






Upstairs were the World War one galleries where they had this diorama of the Gallipoli landings done with 54mm figures (not as many as Sir Peter Jackson's one, however!)  In fact, the figures were quite hard to spot against the terrain.




There was also another large painting with a real foreground diorama too.  The Turkish uniforms in this are very pale, interestingly.







Obviously the Turks had winter and summer uniforms as both were on display in different parts of the museum. No doubt some motley combination of both was worn in the field.






There was a small but well done exhibit remembering the centenary of the Gallipoli landings, which was very even handed and included quotes from Kemal Atatürk about the gallantry of the ANZAC troops, which must have gone down well with the Australians looking at the displays when we were there.








There were cases of relics from the conflict and these helmets were genuine period ones, unlike the reproduction uniforms in the display.




On one side of the room was a section looking at naval operations, with models of some of the vessels involved, including HMS Majestic which was torpedoed by the U-boat U 21 in May 1915 off Cape Helles at the southern tip of the Gallipoli peninsula.


HMS Majestic sinks in the early morning of May 27th 1915


She sank in nine minutes, turning turtle as she did so, but because of the other allied vessels in the vicinity 623 of her 672 crew were saved.






We eventually found a rather ropey cafe in the grounds (the one inside was closed) and also looked at some of the other outside exhibits like this Russian T26 tank and a Turkish Air Force Starfighter.  I recognised the Starfighter straight away as it was the very first Airfix kit I built.




All in all, although parts of it are dark inside and it is a little old fashioned, this is a very good military museum indeed.  All the labels on the exhibits are in both English and Turkish.  It has a (not brilliant) shop and the cafe inside was closed with the one outside just being a room with an urn of hot water and instant coffee and teabags which you had to make yourself.  When we went round it was virtually deserted, except for the Gallipoli exhibit which had about a dozen people in it.   Still, I would highly recommend it to anyone with an interest in military history.  We did miss the performance by the Mehter Takimi Janissary band as that was at 3.00pm and I was on the way to the airport by then but they play their music in parts of the museum and, like bagpipe music, a little goes a long way!