Not delusional royalty on my part, but simply indicative that the ramblings will continue reflecting the travels of two generations of Broon. On this occasion Rosie is coming along to experience the joys of low cost air mile travel and IHG Spire Ambassador excess. In short, points mean prizes!
Seemed only fair as (a) she has not (yet) inherited her mother’s humorous disdain for airport lounges and (b) she was due a treat given her success at school and impending departure to Dundee University to start law of all things.
We always travel like this, obviously.
So join us on a brief trip to Philadelphia and then New York, BA permitting. Rosie tells me we have a list of seven shops to visit in the latter but seems content to do some Constitutional history in the former. And my chances of visiting the battleship, the aircraft carrier, the cruiser, and the two submarines we’ll pass?
Enjoy the New Jersey. This is as much as you’re going to get I suspect!
Currently sitting in freezing Amsterdam looking out at the snow. How the world can change so quickly!
Some might say that my planning was lacking as the return trip was even longer than the way out. I’d disagree because I enjoyed all of it, and it meant the pleasure of four lounges, many films, and some really good food and drink. I’m also feeling remarkably fresh which I think is explained by my body being so utterly confused by time zones that it’s given up caring.
I say that because I first flew west back to Honolulu from Phoenix, and after a night’s kip then flew back east to LA. Lots of point accrued and prizes to come! Temperature wise it was lovely – 80F in Phoenix and much the same in Oahu though to my delight it was raining.
American Airlines Admirals’ Lounges (HNL and PHX) aren’t up to much but they do provide good coffee and wine as necessary, with a little grazing. I’ve been impressed by American on the flying front too because unlike BA, every flight left on time, and the ground and cabin staff have been uniformly very good.
They actually manage the passengers so things work well – for example boarding begins early to prevent chaos and they stop people blocking channels. My favourite example was at Toronto where the delightful lady bellowed “Happy Thursday! Kindly step out of the aisles to let others past”. She also caused universal mirth by telling a feckless young man who wandered up with a question “Take your headphones out! I’ve just finished giving a three minute spiel about that (she had), you’re worse than my teenager”. She then laughed and repeated it for him.
In the air they are attentive, and I was also impressed by the pilots, particularly the one who flew us from HNL who began by speaking to passengers from the cabin, opening by saying “Aloha, I’m the pilot, yes the one in the white shirt waving at the front”.
However, if that was good, it was nothing compared to the joys of the Qantas First Class Lounge at LAX, which seems to be accepted as the best lounge in the US. I’d agree, and it certainly shows up the Concorde Room. To be fair the whole experience in the Tom Bradley International Terminal is a joy. It’s light, airy, and unlike T5 isn’t over crowded.
Neither is the lounge, but what really makes it stand out is the food and the service. The staff are proactive and I actually had to stop the refills coming just to save myself for the flight!
As you can see the food is interesting and based on the Rockpool Bar and Grill in Sydney. It’s cooked in an open kitchen beside the dining area and unlike London always arrives hot. Since I had some hours to kill I managed to have a burger with the red wine (both excellent) and then pass some time before trying the salt and pepper squid which was the best I’ve ever tasted – remarkably tender – with the white. And then some sea bass which was sublime. Life is not always tough.
And that was also true of the flight back to London, my first experience of the A380 super jumbo. Not all perfect as the crew was less than great with poor attention to detail and a somewhat tired approach. I don’t know whether it was in some way connected to the strike but they were all rather old and it showed.
However, the aircraft itself was fabulous – the amount of room is daft and I particularly liked the essentially redundant staircase up from the first cabin to the upper business section.
It’s also a really pleasant aircraft to fly in. Movements were smooth, it was quiet, and I actually slept for four hours uninterrupted which for me is a record.
And having been rude about the crew, I did still enjoy a second dinner, keeping healthy and light with more fish, and, naturally, more of the white Burgundy I’d so enjoyed on the way out!
And by the morning I was ready for a healthy breakfast, though fear not, a full cooked duly balanced all that fruit!
And then to keep momentum going I was in the Concorde Room within twenty minutes of leaving the aircraft, and to my joy managed to get a cabana – a little room within the lounge with it’s own facilities – for the layover before the flight onto Schipol. This was ideal as it allowed me to flake out and enjoy the rugby in peace – it was going well when I took the photo.
All the lounge facilities are available – you just press a button and someone turns up to take your order which arrives promptly I must say. I followed advice and felt a pick me up (thanks Richard) and a wee snack would be sufficient. It was more than fine and I too now recommend the expresso martini!
So clearly the CR has its merits but I still prefer Qantas. The comparison bar shot in London perhaps explains why though the Concorde chairs are fun.
And onto the last points earning flight to Amsterdam which was on time if a little rushed – an hour really isn’t enough for another meal and more drinks!
So twenty three hours flying, 11159 miles, and the gold card target achieved. Hurrah – but still time for a free beer in the hotel before finally conking out!
Indulgence and some opulence over. Sigh. Until the next time!!
Having seen a number of pretty poor films about the gunfight at the OK Corrall I was curious to see to see how awful, and touristy, Tombstone was.
The drive there was tremendous and enlivened by constant country music which in hot sunny southern states seems to really appeal in a way it doesn’t elsewhere.
Down the I10 and then off on what might be described as A roads, through the most barren scenery, and occasional little towns where, from what I could see, you could visit the hairdresser, go to a number of churches (including in one, a monastery), or buy guns. I resisted all temptations. One, Saint David is dry I discovered later – though the police are very enthusiastic about speeders. Perhaps the two are linked? Whatever, given the climate I found the first part extraordinary and assume they’ve never seen Ice Cold in Alex.
Tombstone was, in fact, very good. From a town which ballooned due to silver mining in the C19th it duly died on that front – ironically due to the difficulties with the water table and the failure of the large pumps to keep the deep mines dry. I had no idea that while it is parched on the surface, miners were working in water a thousand feet below.
It staggered on until 1929 as the administrative centre for Cochise County with its court and associated local government roles, but that was all lost too. And yet, to quote Vincent Price, who was the narrator of the “Historama” which was part of the tourist offer – and was like going into a Bill Bryson book on sixties America, with a four sided and hideous and ill perceived diorama which rotated when a screen descended to show some film or other – Tombstone was the town that refused to die.
And neither it did, moving onto milk the famous Gunfight which it does with enormous enthusiasm and humour.
There is a jolly show which takes place near to the actual site, and takes about twenty five minutes. It was like going to the panto but in sunshine and heat. The cowboys (booh!!) one learned were rustlers and general chancers who were also seen as Democrats and had the sympathy of the local Sheriff and press. The Earps and Doc Holiday (hurrah!!) represented the landed interests and the Republicans. I felt the audience participation somewhat confused but kept my powder dry.
Frankly, to my no doubt ill-informed eyes, it all seemed like handbags at dawn, but with firearms. The actual gunfight lasted thirty seconds, left three dead, and had been provoked by little more than chest puffing and strutting by dafties. Which in the context of a hard mining town in harsh surroundings somehow made me think of Shotts, though obviously it went down the prison, rather than the tourism, route.
The similarities continued in the sense that it, and other Lanarkshire mining towns, were once just the same as Tombstone: bustling centres of civic pride with a desire for improvement. The photographs on display went beyond the gunfight and showed a town with many happy and tidy school children, a fire brigade made up of volunteers in uniforms that would not have looked out of place in a large city of the time, and with visits from theatre companies touring from New York and elsewhere on the east coast. It was all rather splendid.
That’s not to be rosy eyed, however, because it was still a hard and wild place too. There was a wonderful display about the varying levels of prostitution available, from what might be described as the genteel to the ladies who used a shack with a bed, and put through twenty five punters a session, without, as the information board noted (much to my amusement), changing the bed linen. Heavens. Not at all like South Edinburgh.
I did discover an explanation for red lights and haven’t investigated further because it makes sense to me.
The Court house was also appealing in form, but clearly was subject to the whims of whoever was the local judge, though the reproduction of the clerk’s office reflected the dutiful and authority driven lawyer the public imagines.
The display about one of the local lawyers made me smile, and clearly nothing changes, or at least didn’t until relatively recently!
The rest of the town is a tourist haven but it was done well, even the shops, and there was very full reference to Apache history, making clear the idiocy of some white cavalry officers in their dealings with the natives. That said, it must have been terrifying for the soldiers given the climate and the landscape, and other hazards. I delighted in reading of one unit, “the Mormon Battalion” having to build defensive earthworks after being attacked by herds of wild bulls. Happily they survived but ultimately the bulls did not.
Thinking of cattle, there was also much money to be made from them and colossal ranches made some individuals fantastically rich. What caught my attention was all the British breeds that were introduced and clearly thrived in such a different climate.
I then thoroughly enjoyed the return journey back to Tucson by taking a less direct route though marginally wilder country. The scenery is stunning and I found the combination of the open road, the landscape and big skies, the heat, the light, and the local FM station deeply satisfying.
Funny but true, though I don’t feel compelled to become a US truck driver just yet. But I bet my blood pressure was abnormally low as I drummed along happily on the steering wheel. Some of you may even get the video.
The other striking thing was the discovery that on all routes north one meets US Immigration personnel at road blocks. I turned off just before one and wondered whether that was a mistake. I needn’t have, because I duly met another check point where I was asked to confirm I was a US citizen, the car was then checked for hidden Mexicans amongst the empty water bottles and banana skins, and the officer seemed pleased when I said I was heading back to the UK in a couple of days.
Not at all menacing, but different and poignant in that the press were full that day of a Mexican immigrant being deported at Nogales (20 miles south of where I was) having been arrested in Phoenix after 22 years, and having had two children, in the US. She had first been arrested in 2009 but was allowed to stay after an Obama amnesty. No more.
I’ll end on a happier note, because despite the political tensions, I was genuinely sad to leave Arizona. Having just sat in the sun for a while after breakfast on my final day, I took myself off for one last look at Pima from the road.
I’m glad I did, because there was preparation for an airshow going on as two A10 tank busters (Thunderbolt IIs) were formation flying, one with a P47 Thunderbolt and the other with a P38 Lightning, both wartime aircraft I’d never seen in the air before. I pulled over and enjoyed the show for twenty minutes – another thing you can’t see in the UK. I’ll just have to come back!
This was the second part of the Arizona aviation pilgrimage. The 309th Aerospace Maintenance and Generation Group currently holds 4,000 aircraft in various states. Not that long ago there were 7,000! The temperate climate means that aircraft survive very well indeed, after being washed on receipt (twice for salty naval types) and their vulnerable bits (like canopies) sprayed with layers of back and then white latex. The Arizona soil is also ideal because it is so hard that there is no need for tarmac – even the largest aircraft can just be towed about. As our guide observed, if you want to put up a fence you hire a large drill, forget picks and shovels!
The place is simply epic. Sure, it’s interesting to see specific aircraft – in my case I was most excited by F4 Phantoms
and B52s
– but it is the sight of row after row of them. To a Brit it is something that you could never experience otherwise. After the Nimrod debacle in particular, the sight of dozens and dozens of P3 Orions sitting unused in the sunshine was galling.
There are four areas of planes. In the first airframes are kept intact and can be reused fairly swiftly.
Others, the second area, are kept intact in anticipation of sale – currently many early F16s are likely to be converted into drones.
In the third aircraft are used for reclamation. In other words, mechanics travel to the plane and remove the required part, take it away for bench test, and if it works it gets used on an active airframe.
The fourth and final area is aircraft which will be reclaimed. The remnants of the rows of B52 I coveted as a child fall into that category, and they sit, with their wings cut off in satisfaction of SALT treaties and to allow Soviet satellites to confirm they could never fly again, awaiting scrapping. There are still a dozen or so newer models that might yet fly.
And it’s not just planes – there are lines of neatly cocooned engines too.
As always there are only a representative few photos here as well as a video below if you can bear it. More are in Galleries so get those anoraks out!!
Apologies for the quality but the tour is done on a bus with tinted windows which you can’t get off. It goes slowly past some individual aircraft but then motors at about twenty mph round the rest, and while hard, the surface isn’t smooth! However, worth every moment;)
The sublime is the Mission San Xavier at Bac, which is about twenty minutes south of Tucson. It encapsulates the history of the region and is part of the chain of Missions set up by the Spanish going all the way up through California which you may already have seen.
The Jesuits started the ball rolling in 1692, developed it for 75 years, and were then expelled en masse from Spain’s oversea territories. What you see now was all built in the late C18th by the Franciscans who replaced them. One can only imagine the impact of the building (and it’s simpler predecessor) on the local Indian population – it is visible for miles on the plain. They were ignorant of adobe building before the missionaries arrived, not that they had any choice in any matter, becoming first Spanish, then Mexican, and finally Americans, though perhaps these details passed them by.
Equally, it must have been pretty grim for the missionaries, including multiple attacks by the Apaches throughout the C19th and there were periods when it was unoccupied. Over the years the church fell into increasing disrepair. Happily there has been a very significant period of recent refurbishment and conservation of both the building and its interior.
Perhaps inevitably that included removing botched renovation attempts at both levels. For example in relation to the domed roof it’s been discovered that the best replacement for destructive concrete work is to go back to square one and use materials from the time of original build, which includes cactus juice in the mortar mix!
The end result is a stunning and almost jolly example of a baroque church – it’s the oldest in the US. I particularly liked the female angel on the roof who actually shows her legs!
It’s also a very serene place and it was pleasant to take stock in the courtyard which was blissfully cool.
However, not chilling, which is a fair description of the Titan Missile Museum, which is fifteen minutes further south.
It’s the last surviving example of the 54 sites that once housed what was America’s biggest nuke at 9 megatons. As the blurb cheerfully observed each weapon had the same explosive power as 90,000 box cars of TNT, which would be a train 1534 miles long, and which is a greater quantity than all the bombs dropped in WW2.
It was very interesting. The moral issues were not a source of particular concern though to be fair it was only ever to be a responsive weapon. Once the order to launch was received, two keys, removed from the red drawer of the locked filing cabinet, had to be turned simultaneously but were sufficiently far apart that two people had to be involved.
That was a common theme of the entire complex.
Security when in use was extreme as you might imagine, and a crew change after a 24 hour shift involved the oncoming personnel passing through four sets of gates or colossal blast doors, including the commander using a code which had to be burnt or eaten after input.
Curiously there was no great presence above ground. Security patrols were available in their jeeps but primarily it was fences and gates, along with radar beams which if broken would result in alarms going off in the control room.
Internally it was all very efficient with a long corridor – more blast doors – between the silo itself and the control room and living quarters. Everything was on great springs – including light bulbs – to protect again blast/earthquake.
And there was only a crew of four, two officers who’d fire the missile and two non coms who’d were maintenance specialists, including the highly dangerous fueling, hence the protective space suits. The fuel once in had to be kept at a constant temperature as it would otherwise combust. Nice.
While I have no difficulty with the logic of Mutually Assured Destruction – it worked after all – I did find the prospect open to a crew who had fired their missile particularly grim. They would know that the US had been attacked before they fired but in all likelihood would have had no further contact. The air would last for fifteen days but what then? Suffocate or climb into a post nuclear world?
To finish happily, the missiles were also used in the space programme and, most importantly of all, this very site featured in Star Trek: First Contact, with the missile itself playing Zephram Cochrane’s first warp flight vehicle!
Oh, and for balance, you can also visit a similar Soviet SS19 launch site in Eastern Poland, though I suspect the gift shop won’t have as many T-shirts or baseball caps.
In many ways what’s not to to like? The sun shines all the time. Dry heat and 75 daytime average. People are courteous. And the sound of freedom everywhere (that’s jet noise to the uninitiated!). Tucson airport is just along the road and as well as being a regional airport has the Arizona Air National Guard which I suspect has more F16s than the RAF has fast jets. Yeehah! (In fact they are currently training Iraqi pilots to fly the F16 day and night).
Then four miles to the east is Davis Monthan AFB (named after two first world war pilots lest you wondered) which has three A10 tankbuster units and the AMARC (the boneyard of retired aircraft which I have wanted to see since as a wee boy I saw a photo of rows and row of B52s and thought, gosh, that looks good). That’s a separate post you’ll be delighted to learn, but there was plenty of flying to keep me happy.
There’s also the Pima Air Museum which I was genuinely excited about given its scale. If you’d seen the smile as I approached you’d understand.
The place is epic and has the widest range of aircraft I’ve ever seen. It’s full of fascinating material about the people who flew them, their context, and is staffed by an astonishing array of charming “Docents” who positively want to engage and chat with you about what’s in view.
My favourite exchange was at the SR71 Blackbird where I was told of a departing crew going from Mildenhall (Suffolk) back to the States.
The pilot was was cleared to flyby and did so, going not over the runway, but the peace camp, at which point he climbed and went into reheat. Tents did not survive the tempest. Diplomatic consequences were swift and by the time he arrived in America his CO was waiting on the ramp. Put out you hand he was told. The pilot expressed puzzlement. Put out your hand he was told again, and on doing so, it was lightly slapped. Matter closed, said his CO.
On reflection, perhaps we we don’t have to prosecute every reported sex crime either….
Anyway, back to sublimity. Again I will put many more photos in the gallery, but below is a visual reflection of the genuine pleasure I enjoyed from seeing so many historic, rare, beautiful, and dramatic aircraft. The one that probably topped it was the B36 Peacemaker which is the ten engined (six pusher props and four jets) giant which also caught my imagination as a child when I saw Strategic Air Command starring James Stewart (he’d actually flown B24 bombers in combat during WWII).
But that’s a difficult choice and there were even artistically repainted aeroplanes which were rather fun (they’re the at the very bottom so enjoy them all!;).
And moving seamlessly onto politics?This is the first place I’ve seen a Trump/Pence bumper sticker. I’ve yet to meet anyone who is actually openly positive about Trump. But I know the majority around here must be at least sympathetic given the voting, although in saying that I’ve heard consistent criticism of Clinton and you do wonder what would have happened had there been a different candidate.
In that regard, I watched a debate on health care between Bernie Sanders and Ted Cruz last night. While I wouldn’t buy a used car from Cruz, I was impressed by the broadly civilised nature of the programme which was a welcome change from the “demands” of Scottish politicians (obviously I mean Nicola and her coterie). To lighten the mood, watching Sanders was like listening to Chris (Shead) but with hair and a slightly lighter touch!
But back to here. The military types – and there are many in Tucson – are probably largely Republican. The A10 tank buster was to have been scrapped but Governor McCain kicked off about that and it has been saved – the problem apparently was that it is a single role aircraft which doesn’t fit Government efficiency. Sound familiar? (Although to be fair Nicola’s Air Force might be my 182 – another reason not to be foolish!).
McCain clearly is not enthusiastic about the Donald and I hope that is reflective of many. The press is fascinating. I’ve been watching CNN regularly and every night there is death by a thousand cuts of Trump’s latest tweets/economies of truth. Even British comedians with green cards are beginning to worry it seems. And the latest is that Trump is now claiming he wanted to delay the executive order on precluding entry from the seven Muslim states. Oh, and he’s been condemning a store that has stopped selling Melania’s products. Mind you Nicola’s shoes were on eBay so perhaps Scotland is leading the way as ever…..
Fear not, back to more planes, as well as Catholic missions and nuclear missiles, tomorrow.
The transit to Arizona was not the happiest. AA are fine and stick to time, but their idea of first is not the same as BA’s, or certainly not on domestic long haul flights. I knew that of course, but hadn’t taken account of constant turbulence on the overnight flight to Phoenix, even after climbing to 40,000 feet. My eyes were shut but there was little sleep! The views as the sun rose over the desert cheered me.
Undeterred, I bought a large coffee, picked up the car, and set off south. The joys of Interstate 10 enlivened me as did the range of FM stations, plus the prospect of the number one thing to do around Tucson according to TA.
The Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum was genuinely captivating although my presence probably did bring the average age of visitors down to the mid sixties. There was a very good restaurant – my beef brisket was as good the birthday version!
So let’s start with the flora which inevitably was in large measure cacti and thorn bushes -but what a variety.
Silver Torch amused by looks,
Bonkers Hedgehog, Texas Glory, and the Alamos Barrel were aptly named,
and then there were standard western film cacti and the Joshua Tree, which I’d listened to on the way to HNL!
I was also taken by these, the first of which is a Texas Olive!
Truth be told, though, I think almost everyone preferred the fauna since that’s where the crowds gathered, particularly the humming birds which were delightful.
Other birds were appealing, though names escape me…
The animals were good too, though the beavers and the otters were sleeping in darkened rooms ( which could be illuminated momentarily), while I felt for the wolf
and was very taken by the prairie dogs.
But that was enough. Off to my Staybridge suite to catch up on sleep, assuming that was possible given the exciting prospect of the Pima Aircraft Museum and the Boneyard. I won’t have problems with names there!
Last day in Oahu involved a great deal of walking I’m happy to say – my Fitbit was terribly pleased with me and awarded me badges, notably after 25,000 steps.
First off was the climb up Diamond Head, the volcano crater that is Honolulu’s landmark. On the way passed a memorial to Amelia Earhart, which for the single engine flyers amongst us, makes the Moray Firth somewhat less daunting!
Inevitably everyone goes to DH for the view so it was a long line of tourists with appropriate overtaking when the path allowed. All stereotypes were present – Japanese tourists with selfie sticks filming themselves as they climbed, teenagers talking on phones the whole way, and scowling white, apparently middle aged, men in “Huzzah” T shirts. The views makes it all worthwhile.
The view shows how the city expands out and up the hills. I wouldn’t recommend buying property – very ordinary little two bedroom bungalows go for $3million dollars in the right area – and it is a long way.
Interestingly, the crater is where the Governor goes in times of national emergency as his bunker and support buildings are there. The big risk is tsunami and there have been a couple in the last few years – one from Canada and the other from Chile. Neither were that exciting in terms of film scale disaster but even a four foot wave caused much damage given the force it carried. Apparently all the myriad of leisure vessels on the island – and there are thousands – pile offshore to deep water when the alarm goes as they would be pulverised in the marinas.
And then it was time for some royalty. This is the Iolani Palace, built in the C19th, when monarchy was still the rage in Hawaii – it’s distinctiveness in terms of the rest of America is still is a source of pride, perhaps also reflected in the state flag which shows our civilising influence!
Nearby is the current state house which is modern but contained low key but striking memorials to Korea and Vietnam. The diversity of names sums up the society.
The royal theme then continued in the beautiful Anglican cathedral which King Kamechamcha IV had built, again in the C19th. He was, it seems, taken with the royal connection and the good works done. In the sunlight the wall of glass was stunning.
Unfortunately the only things open on a Sunday in downtown Honolulu are churches so I couldn’t get into either the palace or the nearby State Art Museum. My genius solution was to walk to the Punchbowl, another volcanic crater, which contains the National Memorial cemetery of the Pacific. American don’t walk it appears and I sort of understood why as I trudged, on and on, round the rim to the one entry, which naturally was on the opposite side to my starting point! Again , it was worth the effort for like CWGC sites, it was moving and beautiful, though the sight of tour buses driving slowly round and never decanting the tourists struck me as the ultimate in crass. I didn’t shout.
Banyan trees for those who might wonder, and unlike our war cemeteries, no order in burials, but higgledy piggledy, and including not just war casualties, but veterans who died naturally, plus family members, as well as a sad more recent burial you could hardly miss.
Finally, I sought further spiritual solace in the RC Cathedral which was splendidly friendly and upbeat, as well as being beautifully but impliedly critical of the current President.
Mind you I was taken by this sign which surely might even interest Fairley …
Should you ever get to Hawaii I would certainly recommend taking a tour with Oahu Photography Tours which is run by a lovely bloke called Alex. (He’s the cool dude sitting on the fence btw).
He get’s 5 stars on TripAdvisor and it’s easy to see why. He’s incredibly enthusiastic, very knowledgable about cameras and all thing Hawaii, and aware of good spots to take people. I’d booked for an all day trip but he couldn’t fulfil it as I was the only one. However, he rearranged another group to suit me (they were delightful and brought a very large cool box which they were generous with) and we managed to tootle about the south and east coasts. The weather wasn’t good – a southerly wind meant it was very cloudy in places but it was a great way to see the differing landscapes of Oahu . Looking at Alex’s useful 3D map, we were in the bottom right hand quarter.
We started on Tantalus, a hill looking over Honolulu.
Then north and east up and through the right hand mountainous spine (on the H3, the most expensive piece of motorway anywhere apparently) before visiting a working replica of a temple in Japan
\
before heading past the hills,
to a variety of beaches, first for colours:
and second for surfing (and fishing),
before focussing on the rockier sides of the coast,
and finishing by watching the sun set looking towards Diamond Head while a frigate bird swooped above us..
Massive fun and extremely useful on the camera front too – here’s a shot of me keeping well away from cliff edge’s where I took the fingers of rock and the road pic.
Just beyond the furthest away finger is the the cove where Burt Lancaster lay in the surf in From Here to Eternity. Tick!
And finally, since Alison wants shots of everyday life here’s a bus stop (they’re all like this). On the buses themselves there are cords to pull and drivers who prevent people getting on until others have got off. Shades of Bermuda!
This is the post I imagine most of you have been dreading. How long will he drone on for about war, planes, and ships? I shall try to be restrained though the good news for fellow anoraks is that if you go to Galleries you will find lots more photos!
Suffice it to say it was a long but interesting day and typically well done. The visit to the Arizona is efficient, respectful and terribly sombre. My boatload of Americans was essentially silent throughout.
The two things that kept coming back to me were Taranto and Royal Oak. The Japanese took note of the Fleet Air Arm’s attack in Italy and repeated it in spades. The Americans took note of it but were dramatically disorganised when the raid hit.
Cue Royal Oak for she sank due to inadequate organisation pre war at Scapa, and like Arizona entombs most of her crew and still leaks oil – both ships had been refuelled almost immediately before. And both receive the ashes of surviving sailors when they pass. The Americans more so as can be seen by the numbers. One is currently waiting to go in and then there are only five survivors left.
The exhibits around the attack were balanced – the two things that caught me in particular were first,the discovery that the fleet had been having a battle of the bands amongst the battleships in the weeks before the raid and Arizona had won the opening rounds, and second, that many of the civilian casualties were caused by American anti aircraft shells being badly fused so that having gone up, it was only on coming down and hitting Honolulu that they exploded.
Then it was onto Mighty Mo, the USS Missouri.
To my horror she was covered in scaffolding which was a tad disappointing but at least shows she’s being maintained. Having seen New Jersey last year the impact was not that dramatic, but she is satisfyingly vast.
And seeing where the peace was finally signed – MacArthur keeping the Japanese waiting but with hands shaking with nerves was fascinating.
The PC bit that shocked me though? A note above a signal pad from 1944 which contained the word “Jap” came with an apology but explaining they had to keep matters historically accurate. To a former Warlord agent this seemed unnecessary.
Finally, for I won’t bore you with submarine USS Bowfin,
the Aircraft Museum was excellent! Well thought out, and in one hangar completely centred around the attack and the response. Included was the actual little plane, being flown by someone like me, which suddenly found itself surrounded by Imperial might on the morning of Dec 7th.
The Airfield itself is historically interesting and is the only museum I’ve been to with bullet holes in the windows.
There was also a hangarful of modern heavy metal, though the most interesting bit was the B17 recovered from the swamp into which it crashed, and which is wonderfully eerie.
