The Guns of Lambeth
I went with GNK+1 today to the Imperial War Museum in South London for my first visit in seven years. It remains a very impressive institution, and, best of all, like many other museums in this great city, has free admission.
We sauntered through the basement exhibits on the First and Second World Wars, before proceeding upstairs, past the display on spies and special forces, to two exhibits which I was keen to check out.
The first was a special commemorative exhibition on the Falklands War, organized in conjunction with its 25th anniversary. It a war which I know something about, having taken place just as I was becoming familiar with developments in the world beyond me. And I remember, all those years back then, tracking the course of the war, reading up on it afterward, and being impressed by Britain’s resolve.
Yes, I’ll admit as much. The Anglophile in me was supportive of Britain’s decision to send a huge armada southwards, ten thousand miles away, to retake the islands, in the face of fierce Argentine opposition. But with the Royal Navy having been reduced so significantly in size since, one wonders if the UK would be able to mount a similar effort right now.
The final gallery we ventured into was the museum’s Holocaust Exhibition, which we both found rather sobering. It includes a large model of the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp, reminding me of my time there in the late summer of 2005, when I was simply bowled over by the enormous scale of the entire facility – a place singularly dedicated to the industrial annihilation of an entire people.
We sauntered through the basement exhibits on the First and Second World Wars, before proceeding upstairs, past the display on spies and special forces, to two exhibits which I was keen to check out.
The first was a special commemorative exhibition on the Falklands War, organized in conjunction with its 25th anniversary. It a war which I know something about, having taken place just as I was becoming familiar with developments in the world beyond me. And I remember, all those years back then, tracking the course of the war, reading up on it afterward, and being impressed by Britain’s resolve.
Yes, I’ll admit as much. The Anglophile in me was supportive of Britain’s decision to send a huge armada southwards, ten thousand miles away, to retake the islands, in the face of fierce Argentine opposition. But with the Royal Navy having been reduced so significantly in size since, one wonders if the UK would be able to mount a similar effort right now.
The final gallery we ventured into was the museum’s Holocaust Exhibition, which we both found rather sobering. It includes a large model of the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp, reminding me of my time there in the late summer of 2005, when I was simply bowled over by the enormous scale of the entire facility – a place singularly dedicated to the industrial annihilation of an entire people.
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