Arctic Convoys: The story of the SS Dover Hill in Russia 1943

A guest post by David B Craig, SS  Dover Hill

David’s story is one of several told in Arctic Convoys, a new exhibition about the oceangoing convoys of merchant and military ships that provided an essential lifeline to the Russians in their fight against Germany in the Second World War. Arctic Convoys is at National War Museum until March 2014.

In the Supplement to the London Gazette of Friday 8^th October 1943 there was a list of names of nineteen Merchant Navy Officers and Men; five were given the Order of the British Empire and fourteen were given King’s Commendations for brave conduct. The citation read, very simply, “For dangerous work in hazardous circumstances”.

I feel that the story should be told about why the names of these men appeared in the London Gazette. I write the story as I remember it but I write on behalf of the nineteen men, as we all worked together and none of us did anything different from the others.

On 13^th January 1943 I joined the SS Dover Hill at anchor off Gourock in the Clyde.  I had signed on as Radio Officer and, on going on board ship, discovered that we were bound for North Russia. We were heavily loaded with Fighter Aircraft, tanks, guns lorries and a large tonnage of shells and high explosives. Our deck cargo was made up of lorries in cases, Matilda tanks and drums of lubricating oil covered with a layer of sandbags, presumably to protect them from tracer bullets. Needless to say we were not very happy about this last item.

David on his return from Russia in 1943.

We left the Clyde on 23^rd January and arrived in Loch Ewe on the 25^th, where we lay at anchor until the rest of the merchant ships had gathered for our convoy. Loch Ewe is a very beautiful place to visit in the summer but in January/February, with a North Westerly gale blowing and a few, large, heavily laden merchant ships dragging their anchors, it could get a bit hectic at times.

Arctic Convoys memorial at Loch Ewe in the Highlands of Scotland.

On 15^th February twenty-eight merchant ships set out in a gale for North Russia in the heavily defended Convoy No.JW 53. The escort was made up of three cruisers, one anti-aircraft cruiser, one escort carrier, sixteen destroyers, two minesweepers, three corvettes and two trawlers, which was a very good escort, and as the daylight hours were getting longer, trouble was obviously expected.

Due to having to maintain absolute wireless silence, the Radio Officers stood their watches on the bridge with the Navigation Officers on duty.

As we sailed North the gale developed into a hurricane and ships began to get damaged. One of our cruisers, HMS Sheffield, had the top of her forward gun turret torn off and our escort carrier, HMS Dasher, and six of the merchant ships were damaged and had to return to Iceland. On our ship the deck cargo began to break adrift and we were not sorry to see the oil drums going over the side, but when the lorries in wooden cases were smashed up and eventually went overboard things were not so good. However, we managed to save the tanks and kept on battering our way northwards.

I remember trying to use an Aldis lamp from our bridge to signal to a Corvette and found it very difficult since one minute she would be in sight, then she would go down the trough of the wave and all I could see would be her top masts; then up she would come and our ship would go down and all that could be seen was water, but eventually we got the message through. At one stage the convoy was well scattered but as the weather moderated the Navy rounded us all up and got us into some semblance of order once again.

The loss of our escort carrier meant that we had no air cover and, as expected, a few days later a German spotter plane arrived and flew round the convoy all the daylight hours to keep an eye on us. The next day we had a heavy attack by JU 88 bombers in which our ship was damaged and our gunlayer was wounded by bomb splinters, but we still kept plodding on towards North Russia. At this part of the voyage we were steaming through pancake ice floes which protected us from the U-boats, which could not operate in these conditions. The blizzards when they came were always welcome as they hid us from the enemy.

SS Dover Hill.

Two days later, on 27^th February, we arrived at the entrance to the Kola Inlet, which is a long fiord with hills on either side and the town of Murmansk situated near the top.  We had not lost any ships to the enemy and I must pay tribute to the good job done by the Royal Navy and our own D.E.M.S and Maritime Regiment Gunners on the merchant ships. Of the twenty-two merchantmen in our convoy, fifteen were bound for Murmansk and the remaining seven went on to the White Sea ports near Archangel. Little did we know at this time that we would not leave Russia until the end of November. The Navy ocean-going escorts which had taken us to the Inlet would now refuel and set off homeward with the empty ships from the previous convoy.

We were all very tired when we arrived because for the last few days we had either been on duty or at action stations for most of the time. So after picking up the Russian Pilot and setting off independently up the Kola Inlet we were looking forward to having a good sleep when we anchored near Murmansk. We were very quickly disillusioned when, about a mile up the Inlet, we passed a merchant ship on fire and her crew taking to the lifeboats. On asking the Pilot about the ship, which was from the previous convoy, he cheerfully told us that on the way down to meet us he had seen it being attacked by aircraft, obviously a common occurrence. We now understood why we had been fitted with so many Oerlikon and Bofors anti-aircraft guns to enable us to defend ourselves.

After two days at anchor we went alongside at Murmansk to discharge our cargo. The port was being bombed a good part of the time and one of our ships, the Ocean Freedom, was sunk alongside the quay near to us.

When we had discharged all our cargo we moved out and anchored about a mile apart on each side of the Inlet. We happened to be on the side nearest the German lines, which were only about ten miles away, and we were regularly attacked by ME 109 fighter bombers, which used to come over the top of the hill, down the side and come tearing at us about twenty to thirty feet above the water and would drop their bombs as they flew over us just above our top masts. Our gunners were very skilled and used to open fire only when the planes came well within range. These attacks only lasted for about a minute but were very vicious and we had gunners wounded and damage again done to our ship. We shot one plane down into the Inlet and on another occasion we damaged one which got out of range before we could finish it off. The next ship anchored astern of us opened fire when the damaged plane came within range and it blew up. We only got a half credit for this one so ended up with one and a half swastikas painted on our funnel.

We now come to the incident whereby, to our surprise, our names appeared in the London Gazette.

David’s report of the bomb disposal incident.

On Sunday 4^th April we were anchored in Misukovo Anchorage a few miles north of Murmansk and I was playing chess in the Officers’ mess when Action Stations sounded and our guns opened up at the same time. I went through the pantry, looked out of the door, and saw two JU88 bombers coming up from astern, high up. Our Bofors shells were bursting below them and when they turned away I assumed we had beaten them off and stepped out on deck. This was a foolish thing to do as, unknown to me, the planes had released their bombs before turning away.

Four bombs exploded close on the port side and one on the starboard side and I was blown off my feet. As I got up our gunlayer came down from one of the bridge oerlikons and pointed out a large round hole in the steel deck a few yards from where I had been standing. It was obvious that the sixth bomb had gone through the main and tween decks into our coal bunkers and had not exploded. We informed the S.B.N.O, Murmansk of the situation and were advised that there were no British Bomb Disposal people in North Russia. We then realised that we would have to dig the bomb out ourselves in order to save our ship.

The minesweeper HMS Jason was ordered to anchor astern of us and to come alongside to render assistance if the bomb should explode, although I doubt if there would have been much to pick up. You must understand that though the Dover Hill was only a battered old merchantman she was our home and no German was going to make us leave her while she was still afloat.

The Captain lined the whole crew up on the after deck and asked for volunteers, and nineteen of us including our Captain formed our own Bomb Disposal Squad. We had no bomb disposal equipment, in fact we only had a few shovels borrowed from our stokehold and nineteen stout hearts when we started digging back the coal, trying to find the bomb. The bunker was full of good British steaming coal which we were saving for the homeward run so we used a derrick to bring it up on deck, hoping to replace it when we got the bomb out.  When the Russian authorities heard what we were doing, although they had many unexploded bombs to deal with in the town, they kindly offered to send one of their Bomb Disposal officers to remove the detonator if we could get the bomb up on deck.

When we dug about ten feet down into the coal we found the tail fins and, by their size, decided our bomb must be a 1000lb one. Unfortunately the Germans also discovered what we were up to and came back and bombed us again, hoping to set off the bomb we were digging for.  Between bomb explosions and the concussion of our own guns the coal kept falling back into where we were digging and things got difficult at times.

We had to dig down approximately twenty-two feet before we got to the bomb, but after two days and two nights hard work we finally got it up on deck.

I was standing beside the bomb with two of my fellow officers as our Russian friend started to unscrew the detonator when after a few turns it stuck.  He then took a small hammer and a punch and tapped it to get it moving. I can honestly say that every time he hit it I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up against my duffle coat hood. After removing the detonator and primer we dumped the bomb into the Kola Inlet, where it probably lies to this day. We then moved back to Murmansk for repairs.

Of the fifteen ships which had come to Murmansk in February, one had been sunk and four damaged. On 17^th May, in company with three other ships, we left the Kola Inlet and set out for the White Sea. We arrived in Economia on the North Dvina River where we stayed until 18^th July when we moved to Molotovsk (Severodvinsk) and finally on 26^th November, with eight other ships, some damaged, we set out for home.

Since it was now dark for almost twenty-four hours each day and we could only do seven knots maximum speed we went north to the edge of the ice. Knowing that a Russian-bound convoy was coming up to the south of us we expected the Germans to attack it and leave us alone. This in fact happened and we eventually arrived in London on 14^th December 1943, in time to be home for Christmas.

The time spent in the White Sea area was mostly peaceful but our main problem was lack of food and for part of the time we suffered from malnutrition, but we survived.  I do not think it did us any harm as it makes us appreciate all the more the peaceful times we now live in.

When we sailed up London River towards Surrey Commercial Docks to pay off, with our Red Ensign flying and patches on our decks and side, we were proud of the old ship as if she had been a spick and span Navy vessel arriving in port. Incidentally, the Red Ensign had a hole in it where an Oerliken shell had gone through it during the fighting but it was the only one we had left.

After returning from North Russia, the Dover Hill was taken over by the Ministry of War Transport and was sunk at Arromanches on 9^th June 1944 along with other ships to form an artificial port for the invasion of Normandy.

To finish on a personal note, I was the youngest of the young squad who took part in the incident in Misukovo Anchorage, having had my eighteenth birthday on the way up to Russia. I was no greenhand however, having joined my first ship in Plymouth as a Cadet in 1940 when I was fifteen years and three months old. Due to having a problem with my eyesight I was unable to continue in the Navigation Department and came ashore, went to the Wireless College and then returned to sea in the Radio Department.

I first returned to Murmansk in 1980, mainly to find the grave of a friend who had been killed in the port by a bomb splinter which went through his steel helmet. With the help of the Russian authorities I was able to do so. I went back in 1985 and again in 1987 with a group of veterans and we had great kindness and friendship shown to us by the people of Murmansk, who greatly appreciate the help we brought to them during the war. In 1987 I found out that the name of the Russian Bomb Disposal officer was Panin, and I later discovered from friends at the Northern Naval Museum in Murmansk that he had been killed in August 1943 in a dog fight with German aircraft over the Barents Sea.

I have since returned to Murmansk in 1991, 93, 95, 2001, 2005, 2010 and 2012. On various occasions I have taken part in the Victory Celebrations to mark the anniversary of the end of the war in Europe.

David on a cruise to Russia in June 2012.

 

Ilana Halperin: myth-making molluscs and cool corals

By Bryony Bond, Contemporary Art Consultant

Glasgow-based artist Ilana Halperin has been researching and developing ideas for a contemporary art exhibition inspired by National Museums Scotland’s collections. The exhibition, The Library, is open from 24 May-29 September 2013. Over the past few months, she’s been looking through National Museums Scotland’s collections, finding out about minerals, fossils, molluscs and rocks and uncovering some fascinating stories. In this series of blog posts, we share some of the fantastic things she’s found.

Artist Ilana Halperin has come across some incredible discoveries during her research at National Museums Scotland, but these have got to be some of the strangest. Who knew that snails were sculptors and molluscs were the real makers of the Golden Fleece?

“While at National Museums Scotland I’ve been branching out into other areas beyond geology and mineralogy: I’ve been spending time with corals and molluscs and the curators who look after those collections. I’ve been looking at some lovely things in those departments, such as carrier shells. As these molluscs grow their shells, they also pick up bits of rocks, coral or other shells and attach them to their own. So their shells become these crazy, fabulous sculptures.

Coral specimens in the National Museums Collection Centre.

Hexacorallia (coral).

Tubipora musica (organ pipe coral).

Xenophora conchyliophora (Atlantic carrier shell).

“I’ve also been looking at golden sea threads, which are rumoured to be the substance that the Golden Fleece was composed of. The threads are made by a particular bivalve to tether itself to a substrate, like an anchor. At various points these threads have been harvested and woven together. National Museums Scotland has a really beautiful pair of gloves and a matching scarf all woven from this thread!”

Gloves and scarf made from golden sea threads.

You can visit Ilana’s website here.

 

Ilana Halperin: the artist in the museum’s store

By Bryony Bond, Contemporary Art Consultant

Glasgow-based artist Ilana Halperin has been researching and developing ideas for a contemporary art exhibition inspired by National Museums Scotland’s collections. The exhibition, The Library, is open from 24 May-29 September 2013. Over the past few months, she’s been looking through National Museums Scotland’s collections, finding out about minerals, fossils, molluscs and rocks and uncovering some fascinating stories. In this series of blog posts, we share some of the fantastic things she’s found.

Born in New York, USA, in 1973, Ilana Halperin was fascinated by geology and museums at an early age.

“As a child, one of the main places that I went exploring and adventuring was the American Museum of Natural History, specifically the Harry Frank Guggenheim Hall of Minerals. In 1976 the Hall had just been redeveloped and reopened. It had been built to mimic the interior of a cave and all of the rocks and minerals were spot lit. So, even before I started carving stone there was an unadulterated, primary experience of being in this beautiful space where all these beautiful, incredible mysterious things were glittering in the dark.

“In the Hall you could explore and discover things, clamber over huge chunks of copper and jasper. The Hall was actually designed to make you want to climb all over it; the Museum wanted children and adults to interact with the geology. In an article I found about the reopening of the Hall, they even said they wanted people, ‘to touch these specimens, put their arms around them, fall in love with them.’ OK, very 1970s, but I guess you could say that I’m a case study for a success story. Because that incredible feeling of encountering these rocks and minerals, and having access to them like that, definitely had a huge impact on my development as a human being.”

In 1998 Ilana moved to Scotland to study at the Glasgow School of Art, and since then she’s gone on to make exhibitions in museums and galleries all over the world. While she’s working at National Museums Scotland, she’s also making a permanent display of geology for Shrewsbury Museum – not many artists get invited to do that! So why does Ilana like working with museums?

Ilana Halperin, installation view of STEINE, Berliner Medizinhistorisches Museum der Charité, Berlin, Germany, 2012.

“I encounter ideas or objects I haven’t come across before, because every collection is completely different. You never know what you’re going to find out about, and what totally unexpected routes you might take. Certain objects, and conversations with the people who know about the collections, can open up a whole new world, or a completely new way of thinking about things.

“For example, at Manchester Museum I came across a cave cast, which was an object formed in a cave, and by a cave, over a period of one year. That object sparked off a whole new direction in my work, within my thinking about time and our relationship to geology. Then in Berlin, I was introduced to a collection of body stones, gall stones and kidney stones, and this was a huge revelation that the body could produce geology. I wasn’t aware of that until I was put into contact with that particular collection.”

Ilana Halperin, Physical Geology (new land mass/fast time), 2009, still from Super 8 film, 3 min 48 sec.

Ilana Halperin, Physical Geology (new land mass/fast time), 2009, still from Super 8 film, 3 min 48 sec.

You can visit Ilana’s website here.

 

Travelling north: loaning objects for the John Rae exhibition in Stromness

By Ross Irving, Assistant Curator Oceania, Americas and Africa

This year will mark the bi-centenary of the birth of Arctic explorer and collector Dr John Rae, who was born on 30 September 1813. The John Rae 200 celebrations, organised by the Orkney Natural History Society, include an international conference, community events and an exhibition in Stromness Museum.

Poster for the John Rae 200 celebrations.

This exhibition was created in partnership with National Museums Scotland and contains important objects from both collections, focusing on John Rae’s relationship with the indigenous communities he encountered on his journeys.

Born and raised in Orkney, Rae learned how to live on the land and survive as part of a remote community. His legendary physical fitness as well as his love and knowledge of the land undoubtedly contributed to his success as an explorer. This exhibition focuses on his early career in the 1840s-50s, when he was largely engaged with the Hudson Bay Company and in searches to discover the fate of the Franklin Expedition.

Objects on display include Cree/Metis, Arctic and Northwest Coast material collected by John Rae alongside material collected by others to contextualise Rae’s collection and give a fuller sense of the peoples he encountered.

Woman’s comb of walrus ivory, Inuit, collected by John Rae, likely 1848 or 1851. On loan courtesy of the University of Edinburgh Collections.

Model canoe of birchbark, Mi’kmaq, collected by John Rae, possibly 1860s. On loan courtesy of the University of Edinburgh Collections.

The team at National Museums Scotland, including loans, conservation and curatorial staff, worked closely with the Orkney Natural History Society to arrange the exhibition.

After months of hard work the exhibition opening loomed and a date was set for installation. As intrepid explorers ourselves, Conservator Charles Stable and I set off northwards one frosty Sunday morning, with over six hours of driving ahead of us.  The collections were securely packed into crates by our conservation team, using layers of plastazote and tyvek cushions. With the long drive as well as the notoriously turbulent ferry crossing ahead, it was especially important that the objects were well packed.

Objects for the Rae exhibition securely packed up.

We made good time on the way up, feeling fortunate that the difficult conditions caused by snow a few days earlier had cleared. Thankfully the ferry crossing was almost smooth, getting us into Stromness on time at 8pm. Stromness Museum was only a short drive away, through the narrow winding streets (thank goodness we didn’t meet a car coming in the other direction), where we were greeted by Honorary Curator Janette Park, husband John (the local butcher, who kindly agreed to help us lift crates!) and Technical Manager Bart.

The morning revealed the spectacular views from our accommodation over to the island of Hoy and along the coast up the Mainland. Stromness Museum was only a ten minute walk away and with such fantastic scenery one of the nicest commutes I have ever had.

Spectacular views of Hoy.

Stromness Museum.

At Stromness Museum, Exhibition Curator Tom Muir and committee member Bryce Wilson were on hand to help with installation. With around 30 objects to install we hoped to be finished in one day.

Each object was unpacked and checked against a condition report written by our conservation team. This is done to make sure that nothing was damaged in transit, and also gives us a reference point to ensure that any change to an object’s condition while on display can be identified. After each object was checked it was placed in position under Tom’s direction.

As with all the best laid plans, we inevitably had to make a few changes on the day. After putting our heads together and doing a bit of re-arranging we managed to fit everything in. A few last minute (and very creative) mounting solutions helped to really show the objects off.

Display of Inuit material with items from the Stromness Museum’s collection.

Display of Northwest Coast material and a leister (on the bottom shelf) John Rae made himself to demonstrate his lectures.

Charles preparing a mount.

Installation in progress (from left: Charles, Bryce, Janette and Tom).

Cree/Metis bag collected by Rae and Cree/Metis coat collected by Andrew Graham.

On Tuesday we moved the empty crates into storage. Janette Park gave Charles and me a tour of Stromness Museum which surveyed its wonderful natural history, maritime and ethnographic collections. This also left some time for some sightseeing. The Orkney Islands are rich with sites of archaeological and historical significance, so one afternoon was definitely not enough!

Ring of Brodgar, one of the many sights of Orkney.

We also had time to visit the memorial to John Rae in St Magnus Cathedral, Kirkwall. This memorial is prominently positioned within the cathedral, sitting opposite a memorial to William Balfour Baikie, a fellow Orcadian and explorer.

Memorial to John Rae in St Magnus Cathedral, Kirkwall. Photo by Rebecca Marr.

It is a touching tribute to an individual whose achievements were not fully recognised during his lifetime. It is hoped that 2013 will be a moment in which to re-evaluate the legacy of John Rae, his role in Arctic collecting as well as his historical significance in Arctic exploration.

To find out more about Rae’s bi-centenary,visit the John Rae 200 website. You can also download a pdf file detailing the bi-centenary events.

 

Getting into the Viking spirit: bread making

By Elaine Macintyre, Digital Media Content Manager

The Vikings! exhibition at National Museum of Scotland gives an amazingly rounded picture of life in the Viking Age – not just the raiding and seafaring, the axes and helmets (WITHOUT horns), but life back home on the farm as well. Various fascinating artefacts help uncover what Viking Age people wore, how they ran their households and, of course, what they ate.

On display in one case are some charred, grey, unappetising-looking nuggets that actually transpire to be Viking bread, found in a grave in Birka in Sweden – nourishment for the afterlife, presumably. Yum.

Viking bread in the exhibition. Probably a bit stale.

Experts in Sweden have analysed the samples and come up with a recipe for making Viking bread. Given that my husband is a bit of a dab hand in the kitchen, we thought we’d give it a go. The tenuous link to Digital Media is that you can download the recipe from the National Museums Scotland website here.

The ‘official’ ingredients are:

About 150 g barley flour
About 50 g wholemeal flour
2 tsp crushed flax seeds
About 100 ml water
2 tsp lard or butter
A pinch of salt

Our version of the Viking bread ingredients.

We cheated slightly by using a barleycorn flour that mixes ground barley with wheat flakes, as this was the best we could find in the wholefood shop! We also used goosefat in place of butter or lard but as people in the Viking Age would have reared geese (as well as chickens, pigs, cows and sheep) we figured that was probably fairly authentic. You can buy ground flax seeds in wholefood shops and some big supermarkets – they’re also useful for gluten free baking, and are a great way of upping the omega 3 content of bread, cereal, porridge, etc. (Just so you know…)

Here’s how we got on making the Viking bread.

First, mix the dry ingredients together.

Next, add the water.

Mix the ingredients into a dough, then knead on a floured board.

Roll the dough into a ball.

Put the dough in a covered bowl and leave it somewhere warm to prove for a couple of hours. We put ours in the cupboard under the stairs, where the boiler is. The dough will expand a little bit, but not much as it doesn’t have yeast in it.

Roll out the dough and shape into a rough circle.

We fried our bread in a dry heavy frying pan, but you can also bake it in the oven if you prefer.

Bake the dough until it turns a nice burnt brown colour, a bit like a naan bread.

Serve with a hearty, warming stew.

So after all that effort, was it tasty? Well, yes: stodgy (as my gran would put it, it fair clags to your ribs), warming and perfect to accompany a stew on a cold evening!

 

26 Treasures: a Year of Sestudes

A guest post by writer J. A. Sutherland

Every writer needs a discipline, some inspiration and sometimes, a bit of healthy competition.  Back in 2011, as part of the 26 Treasures exhibition, National Museum of Scotland invited members of the public to write a 62-word ‘sestude’ on their chosen ‘treasure’ from the Museum. This, I figured, ticked all three boxes.  I spent a while wandering until, suitably inspired, I scribbled a handful of sestudes and sent them in.

I didn’t win.

But I was undeterred, and figured I’d been given a good idea for a project.  Needing little excuse to spend more time in one of my favourite buildings in Edinburgh, I decided I would write my own selection of 26 Treasures, and post them on my blog over the course of 2012.  Well, every writer needs a challenge.

A sestude, in case this word is unfamiliar to you, is a newly-coined literary form, created by the ‘26’ collective. As 26′s Sara Sheridan suggests in her blog post, it is a ‘reflective study;’ a free-form piece, somewhat poetic in character, comprising only one stipulation: that it must be exactly 62 words in length.

Now that’s some discipline.

Practice, as we all know, makes… well, not perfection, but as I practised the form, and worked and re-worked the early scribblings, I realised that the sestude was, and is, an extremely versatile thing.  I played with various forms; some with conventional shape, rhythm and rhyme, some dramatic or conversational, others concrete, free or formed in the shape of the object that inspired them. For example, this half-hour-glass, belonging to Walter Scott:

A True Scott by J. A. Sutherland. The poem reads: “While the/ markets crashed, with/ uncharacteristic optimism/ the writer to whom Scotland/ owed so much, turning his/ half-full hour-glass over,/ set to write himself/ out of debt. Sir/ Water,/ dealt/ a/ double/ -dip, with/ his credits/ crunched, went bust;/ but something else burst/ inside his head. Having/ put blood into the cheeks/ of Scottish History, he/ died like many artists/ in the red.”

Choosing the objects was itself a challenge.  Sometimes it was simply what caught my eye; other times I sought out something fitting a theme, a date, an anniversary, or the product of an overheard conversation.  On the whole I stuck to the Scottish part of the Museum, and selected only one of the chosen objects from the original exhibition, the Gown of Repentance.

The gown of repentance, on display in the Scotland Transformed gallery.

With 52 weeks in the year, the plan was to post on my blog once a fortnight.  This occasionally slipped because I was keen to reflect particular points in the year.  There was an unlucky profusion of Fridays-the-13^th in 2012, which gave me the chance to write about superstition, witchcraft, and charms.  Saint-days, liturgical feasts, and the Bard’s Birthday provided more inspiration, and in the Festival Season, it was not just the Treasure in the Museum that fuelled my pen.

Visits to other Museums, such as the Writer’s Museum, The People’s Story, and Edinburgh Art Galleries; street signs and plaques, people, and pieces of poetry – all of these were part of the process, not to mention spending some time in the Museum’s Research Library.  I even visited the Museum of Childhood in London, where another 26 Treasures project was on display.  But as the year progressed, I became increasingly concerned with a nagging question.

Would I achieve my 26-target?

In fact, I knew that I would – I’m far too stubborn to give up.  The difficulty, as the year drew to a close, was deciding what to omit.  I had selected many more than 26 objects, and had a book-full of scribbled ideas and half-completed sestudes.  One of my aims, besides boasting a word-count of 1,612 (not including titles) was to use these ‘Treasures’ as a basis of exploring deeper themes of Scottishness.

What, if anything, does history teach us; what does it mean to be Scottish (especially for those who were born in England); what part do Institutions and Establishments play in our culture; what is our ‘Identity’ – whatever that means? For personal reasons, I consciously avoided choosing anything with a military connotation.  This is because I strongly renounce all forms of warfare.

When, in 2014, our Nation will need to consider the questions above, the clamour of Bannockburn will be ringing in the background.  I find that rather sad.

Consequently, I chose for my final item something that isn’t in the Museum – or anywhere at all.  For the whole year there was an empty glass case awaiting completion.  It now houses a splendid revolving optic. Into this empty case, I placed an entirely amorphous treasure: the Future.

The empty case, now home to a revolving optic.

So what were the items that didn’t make it into the mix of my 26?  A dainty, silver wax-jack and snuffer, the bannock toaster, an enamel cross designed by Phoebe Anna Traquair, and a firm favourite I was sorry to leave out: the Salter’s Duck.

A rotor from Salter’s duck, an experimental wave machine, on display in the Scotland: A Changing Nation gallery.

This duck does not quack, but water flaps its beak-like shape to generate power from the sea.  With opinion sharply divided on the proliferation of wind-farms, it cannot be denied that Scotland has wind and waves in abundance.  This may be the thing, rather than the battles over our land, that will decide our country’s – and our planet’s – future.

Handle it with care.

You can read J. A. Sutherland’s 26 Treasures on his blog, Through the Turret Window. Find out more about 26 Treasures here.

 

The Slaughter of the Danes: Viking wargames at National Museum of Scotland

A guest post by John Ewing, Falkirk District Wargames Club

Sunday 10 March sees the National Museum of Scotland host its first Wargaming Event, as Clubs from Falkirk and Edinburgh demonstrate how Wargaming can make the study of history fun.

Wargames take many forms and involve many different activities from collecting and painting model soldiers and preparing terrain to fight over, to researching the background of a battle or war you want to fight. All contribute to creating a game which tests the skills of the players and is fun to take part in.

Sunday’s game is inspired by a little known battle from Scotland’s history, one which took place over a thousand years ago in Aberdeenshire. There are no contemporary records of the battle but it left its name on the landscape:  Croju Dane, the Slaughter of the Dane, known today as Cruden Bay.

It is said that in the year 1012, a Scots army led by Malcolm II, King of Alba, fought a long and bloody battle against a force of invading Danes led by Cnut, then Prince of Denmark. The battle took place on flat ground near the shore of the bay where the Danes had drawn up their ships. It raged for most of the day and many men on both sides were killed or wounded. When darkness fell, the armies retreated, exhausted, and camped near the battlefield.

Left: 17th century depiction of Malcolm II. Right: 13th century portrait of Cnut. images from Wikipedia.

When dawn broke next day the sight of the slaughter and many dead caused both sides to pause and reflect. Encouraged by the clerics present, both leaders agreed a truce and a treaty was signed which resulted in the Danes withdrawing their forces, leaving the Scots to bury the dead and erect a chapel dedicated to St Olaf to mark the site.

Malcolm II and his successors went on to fight other battles as the Kingdom of Alba evolved into the Scotland we know today, whilst Prince Cnut became better known to history as King Canute, ruler of England, Denmark and Norway.

As little is known about the actual battle, we have not tried to recreate it but instead used it as inspiration for the game today – a chance to explore what might have been and test your skills as a commander of warriors from the Viking Age.

Viking sword hilt on display in the Early People gallery in National Museum of Scotland.

The figures being used come from the collections of members of the Falkirk District Wargames Club. The eagle-eyed may notice that some of them are more usually to be found in other armies from the period.

The battle will be fought over a 14 foot by 6 foot table using scenic tiles from the Club’s collection. More usually games are played on rather simpler boards or mats and smaller tables. Even an ordinary dinner table can be turned into a battlefield with a little imagination.

For more information on the Club, check the website at www.falkirkwargamesclub.org.uk

Remember: “History can be fun”!

 

Have you got what it takes to be a Virtual Viking?

 By Elaine Macintyre, Digital Media Content Manager

Here at National Museums Scotland, if you haven’t realised that the Vikings were invading this January, you must have been working under a rock (or any other big heavy object – the Boulton and Watt engine, perhaps).

In Digital Media, as well as preparing visitor information for the website and commissioning our spectacular fiery trailer (inspired by one of my favourite TV shows – no, not Coronation Street, Game of Thrones), we also wanted to find a way for online visitors to experience a slice of Viking life, no matter where they were.

Along with Romans and Ancient Egyptians, Vikings are a perennially popular topic on the primary school curriculum. Here, at last, then, was the opportunity to fill the Viking-shaped hole in our Kids section, by creating a new game to encourage children (and grown-ups!) to engage with the objects in the exhibition and our early Scottish collections, and learn more about the age of the Vikings.

We started by inviting members of the Exhibitions, Curatorial, Marketing and Learning and Programme teams to a brainstorming meeting to discuss concepts for our new game. These ranged from ‘The Viking Way’ (a Godfather-like saga about amassing treasure and acquiring new territory, with early retirement as the ultimate aim) to ‘Viking Gold’ (an archaeological dig) to ‘Escape from the Vikings’ (fairly self-explanatory, that one).

Brainstorming ideas for our Viking game with trusty Post-it notes.

Our aim was to convey key messages of the exhibition in a fun, accessible way – and a way that suited our budget: Total Viking Warfare 6 was never going to be an option. First and foremost, we wanted people to understand that there was more to Viking culture than raiding and pillaging. We wanted to get across the skill of Viking Age craftspeople, whose work was of such high quality that certain pieces can’t be replicated today, and the knowledge of their navigators, who charted courses half way round the world. Oh, and we also wanted people to know that Vikings didn’t wear horned helmets. Ever.

Hence Vikings! Training School, in which online visitors choose to play as a Viking girl or boy, then test their mettle at weapon throwing, carving and navigation. And if you think that sounds a bit cheesy, think again. Viking children started training for adult life early on: there’s a hefty-looking sword in the exhibition that was wielded by an 8-13 year old boy.

The Viking village in the game.

The game was created by Dundee-based agency Quartic Llama, who brought the concept to life in a delightful way that appeals to both children and adults, going above and beyond the brief by creating three mini games to test each skillset. The girl, boy and chieftain characters are all beautifully designed: look carefully at their outfits and you’ll notice they’re sporting brooches from the exhibition. One thing you won’t see, however, is a single horned helmet!

The characters from Vikings! Training School.

Thanks also go to our lively panel of P3 pupils from Dalry Primary School, Edinburgh, who road-tested the game in its early stages. If you can’t get more than a C at axe-throwing it’s all their fault – they wanted the game to be hard!

Vikings! Training School launched on 16 January, two days before the exhibition opened at National Museum of Scotland, and so far has been played almost 9,000 times. Want to have a go? It’s time to go back to school…

You can play the game at www.nms.ac.uk/vikingschool. Vikings! runs at National Museum of Scotland from 18 January – 12 May 2013. Find out more about the exhibition at www.nms.ac.uk/vikings.

 

New for you: Crane Dance

By Rosina Buckland, Senior Curator, East and Central Asia

Last May I had the chance to participate in an exciting competition to acquire a piece of contemporary art for the National Museum of Scotland. The event was Art Fund Collect, which is “an annual £75,000 scheme to bring outstanding contemporary craft to UK public collections,” running since 2008. Curators apply to have a work acquired for their institution, and this year nine of us made it to the shortlist, of whom five were successful. Art Fund Collect takes place each year during COLLECT, the leading international art fair for contemporary objects, which is organized by the Crafts Council.

Before the event, applicants had to research the vendors showing at the event, and start thinking about which object they would like to nominate. At the fair, which took place in the Saatchi Gallery, Sloane Square, we were greeted by the organisers and then given one hour to walk around and make our selection. I curate the Museum’s collections of Japanese art and culture, and having to limit my possibilities to Japanese artists made the process a little easier! Nevertheless, there were many beautiful Japanese works to choose from.

However, I had been captivated by a basket of woven bamboo, made by Buseki Suikō (Buseki is the family name). Entitled Crane Dance, it can be used in the traditional way as a container for flower arrangements (placing a watertight vessel inside to hold the stems), but it also stands on its own merits as a sculptural piece. Buseki comes from a family of bamboo artists, with both his father and grandfather being respected figures. He is the last traditional bamboo artist working in Tokyo, where he is based in the bustling shopping area called Yanaka Ginza.

Crane Dance, by Buseki Suikō, 2009 (H. 37.5 cm, W. 24 cm).

I chose Crane Dance for three main reasons:

1. Its beauty and high technical achievement. Buseki’s baskets are remarkable for their lightness and delicacy. He uses bamboo aged more than 100 years, painstakingly splitting it into strips of varying thinness, sometimes as little as 0.5mm wide. These he then weaves together in a process he likens to architecture, requiring precise planning to achieve both structural integrity and the distribution of pattern and colours. Buseki says that he seeks “not only to weave traditional basket forms, but also to capture the beauty of space that resides within the bamboo.” Crane Dance is an example of Buseki’s own weaving method, involving two layers, and the interplay between the inner and outer layers creates movement and decorative patterns. The rich amber colour is smoked bamboo (susudake), and the pale colour is natural bamboo (madake). He was inspired to create this piece by seeing cranes perform their mating dance in Kushiro, on Japan’s northern island, Hokkaido. Cranes are an auspicious motif in the East Asian visual tradition, symbolizing long life.

2. Bamboo is central to the craft traditions of Japan, but was not yet represented in the National Museum of Scotland’s collection. Since joining the institution in 2010 I have been keen to develop the collection of contemporary Japanese studio crafts, and this was a great chance.

3. This is the first of work by Buseki to be acquired by a museum outside Japan, and so an exciting opportunity for the National Museum of Scotland. While I was doing my PhD research in Japan, I lived in Yanaka, one of the “downtown” districts of Tokyo still redolent of eras past. I visited Suikō’s shop there in 2006 and purchased some small items. So it was a real pleasure to be able to propose one of his major works for a museum collection.

Rosina with Crane Dance. Photo by Mark Crick, courtesy of Art Fund COLLECT.

After making my selection, I had to stand by the piece, waiting for the selection committee to make their way round. I had about three minutes to explain why I wanted Crane Dance for the Museum, and then there were questions. With such wonderful works being nominated, it must have been hard for the committee to make their decision, but I was thrilled when the telephone call came through, telling me that I’d been successful. I had to pose with the work for the Art Fund photographer, and then the participants had a more relaxed chance to look round the fair at the private view that evening.

Participating in Art Fund Collect was a very rewarding experience. It was instructive for me to research each of the Japanese artists being offered by the vendors, as there were many I was not previously aware of. It also prompted me to find out more about which artists are represented by other institutions in the United Kingdom. The research for Crane Dance also meant I did a lot of reading about bamboo craft, which I had not studied in any depth before.

When I travelled to Tokyo in August, I was able to meet with Buseki, and ask him more about Crane Dance. It is on show now for everyone to admire, as part of our continually changing New for You exhibition at National Museum of Scotland. Bamboo is an organic material and so can’t be safely displayed for more than three months, but we certainly intend to put this beautiful work out again in the future.

 

So you want to be a Viking?

A guest post by author Robert Low of the Glasgow Vikings

There was a BBC programme I watched with my daughter when she was a wee girl – I am sure loads of people remember it. Mr Benn has become something of a cult since and you can still get the books, but for those currently scratching their bums and wondering what the hell I am talking about, I will explain.

Mr Benn was a cartoon character, a little bowler-hatted man who left his home at 52 Festive Road (go figure how I remember THAT!) and walked to a local shop, where a little man with a fez ushered him into a changing room. There Mr Benn put on whatever costume had been left for him, then exited through a back door and into an appropriate adventure. Eventually, the fez-hatted shopkeeper would usher Mr Benn back to the changing room and he’d put on his suit and bowler-hat – until the next time.

Mr Benn should be the patron saint of reenactors.

In the beginning, that’s what the hobby of Viking reenactment was all about – a dress-up pageant, where you could play ‘pretend’ and be six years old. It was enough to wrap strips of fake sheepskin Lamtex round your lower leg and climb into a biker jacket; any public entertainment was incidental, since this was just a bunch of like-minded overgrown weans rolling about in a muddy field. Even the women …

Of course, it did not stay like that. The Public started Asking Questions and, in order to answer them with at least some degree of sense and truth, folk began researching the period. After a while, the Lamtex went. Then the biker jackets. In the end, we had Authenticity Officers …

Aaargh! The Glasgow Vikings in action.

Now, if you want to dress like a Viking, you purchase a copy of the 1958 movie of the same name. You drool over Kirk Douglas’ fabulous winged helmet, Ernest Borgnine’s magnificent jerkin of diamond-plate studs and – if you are a woman – Janet Leigh’s improbably-breasted dresses.

Then you grip it securely in both hands and sling it in the bin, since almost none of it is accurate.

What is accurate is surprisingly varied and versatile. Wool and linen and even silk as fabrics. Leather and sealskin, wolf, fox and other furs and skins. You can have almost any colour you like save, peculiarly, black – no-one in the Dark Ages found a mordant suitable to fix black as a permanent dye.

Viking costume doesn’t have to be drab.

We know this because the archaeology has exploded in the decades between when The Vikings began, back in the Sixties. There is hardly a woman in the Vike – or a man, now, for that matter – who does not know how to get yellow dye out of onion skins, or why Hiberno-Norse are the only ones allowed to wear purple (from heather) apart from the exotic Rhus of the Russian east (who got it from Byzantium). There are few Viking reenactors who do not know their proper status and why they can’t have ornamental bling with a plain, undyed tunic, or why a sword is a luxury item, or why their helmet has no wings or horns and never will have.

Robert Low wearing a Viking helm – look, no horns!

It comes as a surprise to some and almost all of the public to find out how warm a wool cloak is in winter, or how wet-proof a pair of sealskin boots are, or how the Norse sailors developed the sleeping-bag in sealskin and foul-weather gear from walrus hide which as good as modern Neoprene.

Of course, getting all this gear isn’t easy. You can’t buy it, so almost all the Viking reenactor women I know are expert seamstresses. Most of the men can turn out a pair of simple leather shoes. Several are now expert armourers and have turned it into a full-time, museum-supplying business. Others make hats, leather belts and sheaths, silver jewelry … everything we wear is handmade, handstitched and lovingly crafted.

Reenactors from the Glasgow Vikings.

Of course, you can’t walk out and club a cub these days – well, not without creating a bit of a stir – so all the skins and furs have to be laboriously sourced from countries who legitimately cull the likes of seal, wolf, boar and the rest. That then needs to be addressed in presentations to the public, especially in schools, where Glasgow Vikings in particular do a lot of serious primary education.

But the more we strive to educate and explain, the more interest is engendered and that manifests itself in many ways, from Time Team to the History Channel to museum funding for exhibitions such as this one.

So when you next see a Viking, take a long, hard look – all that gear, from his forged helmet to his leather soles, is unique, hand-made and an investment of love, time and money. We like to think that the decades of striving to be more than biker jackets and Lamtex have contributed to keeping alive an age long gone but not forgotten.

The Glasgow Vikings are appearing at Half Term Living History at National Museum of Scotland on Sunday 17 February and at RBS Museum Lates on Friday 22 February as part of the events programme for our Vikings! exhibition. Find out more about Robert Low and the Glasgow Vikings here. You can see Kirk Douglas in The Vikings at National Museum of Scotland on Sunday 3  March. Find out more about our Vikings! at the Movies event here.