The tail of an unexploded Japanese balloon bomb protrudes above the mossy forest floor near Lumby, British Columbia. This photograph is courtesy of Infonews.ca, which published a story about the bomb on October 10, 2014.
On November 3, 1944, the Imperial Japanese Army attacked North America, and they did it from three Honshu beachheads. It was on that date that the first of some 9,000 balloons, fitted with incendiary and high explosive bombs on a three-day timer, were lofted into the recently-discovered jet stream. The innovative form of aggression spread dangerous explosives across a huge swath of North American territory, from Alaska to Mexico, from the Pacific Coast to Detroit, Michigan. Fewer than 250 of these balloons have been accounted for, although an estimated 1,ooo balloons may have made it across the Pacific. While most of the 9,000 probably failed to reach American shores, those that made the crossing and went undiscovered might still pose risks to the unsuspecting.
Foresters working near Lumby, British Columbia, made the most recent discovery of unexploded Japanese bombs in October of last year. Hikers and people who work in wild places should be wary of undiscovered explosives from these balloons.
When Japanese balloon bombs, known as Fu-Go to their makers, first began to arrive in America, authorities mistakenly thought that the devices were being launched from submarines surfacing near our coasts or that they had been built in Prisoner-of-War camps along the coast. Continue reading
Posted in Balloons, Conflicts, Education, Geology, Hanford, Hanford Atomic Energy Reservation, History, Japan, Washington, World War II
Tagged Alaska, Archie Mitchell, Asotin, Atom Bomb, Ballast, Balloon envelopes, Balloons, Biological Warfare, Bly, Bombs, Bonneville Dam, British Columbia, California, Canada, Central Washington, Cold Creek, Debris, Detroit, Diatoms, Eastern Washington, Education, Elsie Mitchell, Ephrata, Forams, Foresters, Fossils, Fu-Go, Geologists, Geology, Hanford Reservation, Hawaii, Hiking, Hill Williams, History, Honshu, Hydrogen, Imperial Japanese Army, Infonews.ca, Intelligence, Jet Stream, Lt. Col. Franklin Matthias, Lumby, Manhattan Project, Mexico, Michigan, Montana, Moxee, Mulberry, North America, Northwest Territories, Oregon, Pacific, Pacific Coast, Planes, Plutonium, Port Angeles, Prisoner-of-War, Prosser, Reactor, San Pedro, Sand, Satus Pass, Scientists, Second World War, Silk, Spokane, Submarines, Sunday School, Tokyo, Toppenish, Walla Walla, Washington, World War II, Wyoming, Yukon
A soldier of Custer’s regiment uses his Springfield carbine as a club. Source of this painting is not known.
When you grow up in desert heat, at least when video games and television have yet to proliferate, one of the joys of childhood is playing with the garden hose. Personally, I enjoyed digging rivers and lakes into the earth of the wire enclosure where our chickens roamed. I remember the amazement of unearthing a living frog that had burrowed into the ground for hibernation, and that had narrowly avoided the blade of my shovel.
One of my maxims about the desert landscape around Saddle Mountain is that this earth is honest. When people pass through, the traces they make remain to be read by those who come after them. As I think back on the traces we’ve discovered on our farm alone, it amazes me that so much history is written in its sand and dust.
In the early 1960s my father hooked his tractor to a battered old machine he called the rototiller. He was in the process of rooting sagebrush out of a new field, and this machine would completely destroy the plants that grew there naturally. Continue reading
Posted in Art, Columbia Basin, Conflicts, Crab Creek, Death, Education, Family History, History, Native Americans, Railroads, Saddle Mountain, Speculative History, Treasure, Washington
Tagged Arrowheads, Art, Atlatl, Badger, Bunchgrass, Campbell's soup, Central Washington, Chickens, Chinese workers, Clovis points, Coin, College, Culture, Deer, Desert, Ducks, East Wenatchee, Eastern Washington, Ecosystems, Education, Environment, Family History, Farm, Frogs, Garden hose, George Armstrong Custer, Gunsmith, Hibernation, History, Hunters, Irrigation, Jackrabbit, Little Big Horn, Livestock, Lynx, Merrybelle, Milwaukee Road, Native Americans, Nature, Oliver tractor, Othello, Pheasants, Projectile points, Railroads, Rototiller, Saddle Mountain, Sagebrush, Soldiers, Springfield carbine, Television, Tractor, Treasure, U.S. Springfield trapdoor, Video games, Walt Danielson, Washington, Weapons
The contemporary view of Ardoyne is cleaner and has more nice cars, but the long blocks of terrace houses look the same.
© Copyright Dean Molyneaux and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.
I woke each day in the blue room on the north end of the house, on what the Irish referred to as the first floor. As an American, this translated to the second story, since I climbed one flight of stairs to get there. In the back corner was a cold coal hearth. I don’t think I lighted the hearth all year long. It was dirty and drafty, contributing to a constant chill in the room. Moreover, beneath its scorched bricks was the hidey-hole for the house cash box. But through my window I could look out over neighboring rooftops to the heights of those vacant mountains north of the city and the outline of the Iron Age hill fort atop Napoleon’s Nose. It was a reminder that however bad things got in Ardoyne, the world beyond considered other things equally important.
I had inherited this room from the former house master. Now I held the secret of the cash box. Apart from me, the only other one who knew where we kept the Glencree money was Len, the American volunteer who had beaten me to Belfast.
He had taken a small room at the top of all the stairs, one that lacked a door, but was so high up it seemed inaccessible from below. Beside my room was the bathroom, equipped with the longest clawfoot tub I’d ever seen. It was cold as an iceberg in that room, too, and with the tales that the neighbors told, about the old woman who had died in that tub, taking a bath became a heroic exercise. I knew that if the bathroom was haunted, the old woman’s ghost would have no difficulty in passing through the wall into my bedroom. Never noticed a thing. Continue reading
Posted in Belfast, Conflicts, Education, Garden, Hiking, History, Ireland, Iron Age, Northern Ireland, Peace and Reconciliation, Travel, Volunteers
Tagged Ardoyne, Belfast, Catholics, Culture, Education, Europe, Family, Games, Hill Fort, History, IRA, Ireland, Iron Age, Napoleon's Nose, Paramilitaries, Protestants, Shankill, Volunteers, Youth Clubs
Oblivious to the true history of the site, my Whitworth College tour mates and I clambered through preserved battle lines at Babi Yar.
In the Spring of 1978 the Whitworth College study tour of the Soviet Union made the last major stop on our visit, at Kiev. As usual, our group was posted to a tourist hotel, provided with buses and a suave trained tour guide, and directed to all the major tourist sites in the area. Having spent the summer before reading some chronicles of ancient Russia in which the origins of the empire of the Rus were placed at Kiev, this was one of the places I most looked forward to seeing.
From the bluffs above the river outside the walls of the medieval Kiev Pechersk Lavra monastery I looked down on ragged forests that I was sure concealed the remains of the Viking camps that became Kiev’s first royal halls. But the tour guide had a schedule to keep and he herded us all inside the church hall. It was somewhat disconcerting to find Ukrainian peasants inside the church, gamely trying to worship while the guide led us from icon to icon, pointing out the hollow jars buried inside the heavy columns with their mouths exposed to provide reverberation. As I stood gape-mouthed and amazed at the intricate details of the church an old woman in a head scarf and a brown apron shifted past me, muttering the warning, “Ne smeyatsia!” She had mistaken my appreciation of the building for mockery of the worshipers. Continue reading
Posted in Art, Atrocities, Conflicts, Death, Education, Germany, History, Illustration, Immigration, Jews, Nazis, Spies, Travel, World War II
Tagged America, Art, Babi Yar, Catacombs, Education, Europe, Execution, Family History, Genocide, Herimitage Art Museum, History, Holocaust, Immigration, Jews, Kiev, Leningrad, Los Angeles, Monasteries, Nazis, Seattle, Second World War, Siberia, Soviet Union, Study, Travel, Vikings, Whitworth College, World War II
I have to open this post with an apology for the long absence. A combination of circumstances has me hopping every which way, leaving me little time for writing. I’ll share some of it another time, like the process of restoring a log cabin on the Sauk River of Washington State. Other stuff I’ll leave to your imagination. Just remember I’m a teacher and the end of the school year just passed!
Since one of my subjects is Social Studies and my fifth graders study the foundation of our country, it seems appropriate to observe Independence Day from a family history perspective.
Born in Tidewater Virginia (his ancestors built St. Anne’s Episcopal Church near Tappahannock), Jesse apprenticed to become a wheelwright. In pre-revolutionary Virginia there was a wave of heartfelt religion, a rebellion against the official Anglican church. Jesse felt persuaded to become an exhorter in the Baptist faith. He was the first of my ancestors to migrate out of Virginia (we’d been there since 1619), moving to the hills of North Carolina. Still a young man, he traveled back and forth between Continue reading
Posted in Conflicts, Family History, History, Native Americans, Revolutionary War
Tagged Anglicans, Baptists, Bourbon, Cemetery, Cumberland Gap, Elijah Craig, Elizabeth Watts, Family History, History, Holston, Indiana, Indiana Territory, Jesse Vawter, Kentucky, Log cabin, Madison Indiana, Marriage, Military, Native Americans, North Carolina, Ohio River, Orange County Virginia, Religion, Revolutionary War, Sauk River, Tappahannock Virginia, Virginia, Washington, Whiskey, Wirt Indiana
That summer of 1981 I became familiar with urban poverty. By far, most of the families I encountered in Ardoyne relied on a government check, the Dole, to get by. How they managed to make the money stretch to pay their rent and what they called their rates (utilities) and taxes, I couldn’t imagine. Not to mention the money they spent on food, often at a chippie, which is what a fish and chip van was called. Sometimes they’d buy a curry from the truck that sat near the shops, but other times hunger drove them to serve their children “chip buddies.” This consisted of two slices of buttered white bread with French fried potatoes laid between them. Carbohydrate delight. Of course there always seemed enough money to pay for pints at the Shamrock and other social clubs.
I knew a woman from the college I’d attended in Spokane who had married a man from Belfast, and at one point that summer I contacted her for a friendly visit. She took me on a walking tour downtown and introduced me to her brother-in-law, who shared the opposite side of their huge semi-detached house on some private acreage to the south of the city. John was a bachelor, trained as a geologist, and comfortably situated after years of oil work in the Middle East. He was delighted to meet Sally’s college friends (I discovered that one of my dorm brothers had previously visited him), and he invited me to come to his house for dinner sometime when I wanted a break from the inner city.
My dinner with John was one of the most unusual events of that year, an evening of surprises. Continue reading
Posted in Art, Belfast, Conflicts, Education, Garden, Gardening, Geology, History, Horses, Ireland, Middle East, Movies, Northern Ireland, Travel
Tagged Agatha Christie, Ardoyne, Aristocrats, Art, Art History, Belfast, Betting, Brandy, Carpets, Cigar, Cliffs of Moher, College, Culture, Education, Europe, Family History, Food, Foreigners, Franz Hals, Geology, Germans, Government, History, Horse Racing, Investment, Ireland, Limerick, Loneliness, Manor House, Middle East, Mystery, Northern Ireland, Oil, Old Masters, Painting, Portrait, Poverty, Republic of Ireland, Servants, Spokane, Television, The Dole, Touring, Turkish Carpet, Volunteers, Watercolor, Wheatfield Gardens, William Payne