The Atomic Bomb: Part 1 - Putting it Together

Thankfully, there aren't a lot of things in the world that could wipe out humanity. Sure, nature has a few tricks up her sleeve (I'm looking at you, Yellowstone National Park) but we've for the most part limited our self-destruction to non-human-race-ending mechanisms. That is, until the bomb. No, not the classic Nintendo game Bomberman 64 - nor Bomberman Ultra, nor Bomberman Jetters, Bomberman Generation, Bomberman Hero, Bomberman Quest or... well, any of the Bomberman series that's put together in the 40 minute YouTube clip about the series' history. I mean the atomic bomb, the one that is capable of knocking out cities and irradiating what it doesn't flatten. The kind of bombs that the world had 60,000 of at one time, and still has well over 10,000. It wouldn't be the blast that would kill the Earth - more so, it would the the drastic changes it atmosphere. Think of global warming, but sped up, but only after a nuclear winter. Similar to volcanoes, dust would cloud the sky and block out the sun, lowering the Earth's temperature enough to cause crop yields to drop, leading to horrible famines. It would also knock out the o-zone, which, if you haven't been listening to the news lately, is really nothing but a negative. 

So how did we come to possess these weapons, and why?

Robert Oppenheimer with Albert Einstein, working
diligently on a crossword puzzle.

In Germany, 1938, scientists discovered they could split the nucleus in the uranium atom - discovering fission. Out of a very small amount of material, they could now produce an absolutely enormous amount of energy. Out of that information, the Allied countries feared that the Nazis were on the verge of creating an atomic bomb. Nazi atomic bombs is about as fear-inducing a stretch of words that could be said while on the brink of a world war. (It would also make a great band name!) Even the U.S., despite not entering the war for some time, were wary of this. Any major power with an unmatched weapon is going to cause an alarm. Right away, Roosevelt authorized a project to get down and dirty with uranium in an attempt to get that bomb before anyone else could. He tasks General Leslie Groves to do this, although it seemed at the time like an impossible task, and perhaps a bit of a career killer. Regardless, Groves then scoured the U.S. in an attempt to round up the best scientists America had to offer, choosing to place Robert Oppenheimer at the helm. It was a team of America's best and brightest, with the average age being... wait, 25?! Groves must have chosen the scientists like television would have cast them - choose mid-twenty year olds regardless of whether it makes sense or not.

Originally thought to be a picture taken within the first
few milliseconds of the Trinity Test, this photo has
been proven to be a pimple.

They took the team of scientists and sent them to Los Alamos, a place built for them to work on the bomb in solitude. The British sent over a number of scientists as well, one of them a German-born communist by the name of Klaus Fuchs. (Remember him for future blogs; I'll likely make a pun on his last name.) They had to be isolated and completely in secret because any slip of information could turn the tide of the whole war. Communication with the outside world was minimal, as there had to be no distractions. This is where the this rag-tag bunch of youngsters begin to build what they refer to only as "the gadget" - the bomb's blueprint and shell, as well as the method in which it detonates. After a while, they figured out how it would work but they had one major hang-up; what are they going to put in it that was actually going to explode?

What they used to drop the bomb in the Trinity
Test. The clouds, sensing the danger, are
bidding a hasty retreat.

It was no easy task; fuel for these explosions was not very easy to come by. Uranium was the prime candidate, but it takes a very long time to strip what you need from it to make it useable. Naturally occurring uranium doesn't cut it (because science) and you need this special kind of uranium that is within regular uranium. Or something. Again, science. Anyways, Groves had a giant complex built to extract it but when you're getting this stuff one atom at a time, it wasn't going to be able to destroy anything any time soon - even if you only needed a few pounds of it. Out of luck on that front, they searched for a new substance to replace uranium and arrived at the more spacey sounding plutonium, which would serve the same explosive purpose. However, plutonium can be manufactured (harvested? created? conjured? I'm not sure how plutonium comes to be) much faster, so Groves went and had another set of buildings created to produce plutonium instead. Remember that this is wartime here; if something needs to get done, it gets done. Cost is irrelevant. It's like giving a credit card to a teenage girl in a shopping mall; you're going to have a lot more things, a lot less money, and you're not entirely sure if you need any of it.

The bomb was created and ready for testing after three years and two billion dollars (but old two billion dollars, so think of a much larger number to convert it to modern day currency, then add a zero). The Trinity Test was the first run at a nuclear bomb, and it was hoisted up a short drop from the ground - notably without the explosive inside (they had mattresses underneath it in case it fell - the whole operation costs billions and they use the same method of cushioning that boys use to practice backflips as teenagers). They then brought in the plutonium, delivered by car in the most casual fashion, and placed the explosive material inside. They retreated to a safe distance and ran the test.

From there, they watched a monumental moment in history. Now, I know, I know, that's a cliche - but if ever there's a time to use it it's then. The atomic age was upon them in a massive blast of ash and fire, and from then on war would never be the same.

The Canadian Flag

Father Britain's oldest son, the United States, had always been a bit of a trouble maker. In his rebellious youth, he broke away from his parents, stormed off with claims of being 'misunderstood', and after plenty of bickering decided to live on his own. Canada, the younger brother and son of Father Britain and Mother France, was the good one. We lived quietly and respectfully in the house they bought for us, and we loved our parents; we were the son they always wanted. Our older brother would try to invite us to move out with him and live on his couch, but we politely declined. Later, after the neighbours back at our parents' place started roughing up our family for a few decades in the early to mid 1900s, we came back and helped take care of business like any son would. Once that mess was cleared up, we politely asked if we could officially move out on our own - with the caveat that we'll still remember who helped us out in our fledgling years. We've always honour our father, and we'll probably always will.

And yes.

That's honour with a 'u'.

Although we have been our own country since 1867 (obviously) we have only had our official flag since 1965. When you really think about it, that's incredibly recent. We've passed through plenty of official and semi-official ones over time, but none of them particularly unique to Canada, mostly taking bits and pieces of French and British flags and throwing a Canadian spin on it. Over time, some of those good-hearted Canadians wanted to salute something that represented just their land and not something overseas.

I know you've seen it before, but it's a beautiful flag. I
would totally stand on guard for that.

Way back in the times of New France (1534-1760s) they would view their national symbol as the banner of france - a square blue flag with the familiar Fleurs-de-lys. The British side of old-school Canada flew the Union Jack until around the time of Confederation, in which it was often replaced with the Canadian Red Ensign. The Red Ensign still had the Union Jack at the top left, but also had a frequently changing crest on the right depicting the provinces. As more provinces were added, the symbol became increasingly more confusing - trying to fit all the provinces into one small corner of a flag makes it a little busy, especially when it's meant to be easily identifiable at sea. Often it would be abbreviated, so to speak, by putting three maple leaves at the bottom of the crest and the symbol of the province of origin on the upper half. Even then, the Union Jack itself was also quite often found flying as well, for those that were apparently feeling particularly homesick.

Our first push for a flag of our own came around 1925 - keep in mind that even at this point it's over a half-century after Confederation. The idea was met with a lukewarm response; Canadians were afraid we were about to lose the beloved Union Jack, and the committee chosen to discuss the prospect of a new flag was abandoned after a lack of consensus. We Canadians liked the Union Jack - it may not have been ours, but we could still latch onto it pretty well. If anything, that and our high numbers of volunteer soldiers for the World Wars demonstrates our loyalty to Britain. We were the kid that was just raised right.

The Pearson Pennant; the general consensus was
"it's OK I guess".

Lester B. Pearson, at the time the leader of the official opposition, raised the debate again in 1960. It was a trying time for Canada, as we were in the wake of World War II and French Canada was pushing hard for separation. Mind you, you would be hard pressed to find a time in Canadian history where something like this wasn't happening in Quebec, but maybe back then it felt a little more fresh. Regardless, Pearson hoped to remedy the situation by sparking a bit of unity through a common flag. Canadians were split between the Red Ensign and the Union Jack, this divergence being compounded by the fact that French Canadians thought of their provincial flag as more of a national symbol. A collective flag might stymie the thoughts of separatism, at least for... maybe a couple weeks.

The one second from the right is a crown, not a pie.
Just so you know.

Then Prime Minister Diefenbaker hoped for the flag to respect the countries that helped Canada get its footing in the first place, planning to throw a Union Jack in there as well as some Fleurs-de-lys as to not have the French say "the heck with this" and leave in a huff. Well, "le heck with this" I suppose. Pearson on the other hand wanted nothing of the sort. He wished for a strictly Canadian symbol, one to help separate us as a colony and helping to transform us into a distinct country of our own. To decide, they formed a committee consisting of all parties in the house to decide on what was to fly above Parliament Hill. 

There were an incredible number of flags to choose from, with blue as the typical third colour choice, beavers being strewn about all over the place, and a few stars coming through on occasion as well. While the Pearson Pennant made it to the top three, the committee vote brought it down as Diefenbaker's conservatives thought the liberals would cast their ballot towards Pearson's flag and thus voted for what we currently have, but were found to be incorrect as the liberals weren't a big fan of it in the first place. The result was a unanimous vote for our current flag. On February 15th, 1965 the Red Ensign was taken down and the new, glorious and truly Canadian flag was first unfurled. It wasn't easy, though - the debate in the House to choose to fly the flag or not took six months, had a comical number of speeches (so many that they had to start limiting the time for them) and only then the vote passed by 163-78 - not entirely a crushing victory.

To close, here's a fun fact (and one that sounds, much like our flag, uniquely Canadian). The 1992 World Series featured Toronto and Atlanta, and in the second game the American Marines accidentally brought out our flag upside down. The following game, Canadian fans brought signs that read "No hard feelings" - and held those upside down as well. 

___________

The information for this blog was taken from www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca, a great resource for all things Canadian. 

The Hundred Years' War: Part 3 - Lancastrian War

A modern depiction of the Dauphin.

If you have found this blog by chance, saw the word 'Lancastrian' and read it as 'Lannister', I apologize but you are about to be sorely disappointed. This blog is about the third instalment of The Hundred Years' War, detailing the Lancastrian period in which we see such delightful characters as Joan of Arc (later represented by Lisa Simpson), the King of France (later represented by Milhouse Van Houten) and the King of England (later represented by a great number of boring and aesthetically displeasing paintings made during or after that century). The previous section of the war reminds us that history is no cohesive story, meant to entertain and follow a beginning, middle and end style narrative with a thrilling climax brought to us by Gerard Butler in slow motion. It's simply a retelling of events as they happen - in this case, the middle section (the Caroline war) was simply a number of battles and exchanges of territory, spicier than peacetime but not being altogether all that groundbreaking. I guess the burning and pillaging of the French countryside and the Fabian tactics to defeat the British were pretty cool, but.. I don't know. The addition of some interesting subplots (the king of England is secretly a woman! or every single battle turns into an underdog/last stand story in which the outnumbered win in a surprise victory!) would certainly have made it a little better. Fortunately, this one has a little more substance.

But anyways...

A civil war had started in France between the Armagnacs party and the Burgundians - two rivals in south and northern France, respectively. The first battle in the Lancastrian War went soundly to the British, the Battle of Agincourt being a strong victory for the English over the Armagnacs. Henry V, the king, continued on to win fight after fight and take greater levels of territory all the while spilling all sorts of French blood, not to be confused with wine, despite the high blood/alcohol level. At this point the French king, Charles VI, started to get a little weary of all this death and destruction rampaging across his homeland which would be more than a little bit of a downer. Fearing the worst, he was forced into a treaty with the British, stating that Henry was to marry his daughter (whoring out your daughters was socially acceptable back then, when women were pretty much political currency for alliance purposes). Anyone who was to marry the French princess would then be the one to take the French throne - this of course meaning that the Dauphin (which I have just now learned means the eldest son of the king of France - you're welcome for saving you a google search) no longer has a legitimate claim to the throne. We can only imagine that upon hearing that news the poor lad would be rather peeved.

Both sides quickly learn that arrows are not the only
form of weaponry that can be fired at unnecessarily
close range.

Henry V died sometime afterwards, as the French king followed suit. In the wake of the British king's death, his infant sone took what I can only imagine to be an adorable baby sized crown and made an alliance with the Burgundians who backed the young one. The Armagnacs, on the other hand, continued to support the French side of things and held out in the southern half of France.

Despite already losing a great number of battles and men, things continued to go downhill for France when at this point they thought the drop couldn't get much steeper. A French and Scottish army lost 16,000 men, the Scots being surrounded and destroyed along with their commanders, marking the last time major reinforcements would come to France from Scotland. Losing allies, fighting a civil war and the British, their leaders killed and their ranks scattered or dead as well, France was looking like they were on the brink of annihilation. In fact, Britain thought so too - they began to lay siege to the exceptionally well defended Armagnac capital of Orleans. Taking that would be a crippling blow to France.

Joan of Arc, nicknamed "The Maid of
Orleans"; she was the original French Maid.
Oh la la.

Like most great battles of history, the tides turned when one teenage girl started hearing voices in her head. Joan of Arc, after apparently having visions of God instructing her to defeat the British, convinces the Dauphin to send her to the siege. She then steps up to the plate, inspiring the troops through medieval pump-up music and paintings of montages, and rallies the broken French armies into a powerful fighting force. Hitting the small groups surrounding the city, she frees it from the siege and continues on to break the lines of English troops. This allows the Dauphin to march through to Reims and be crowned officially.

After leading a number of minor victories, Joan of Arc was eventually captured and burned at the stake as a witch, the British simply blaming the fact that they got out maneuvered by a girl on nothing short of magic. Regardless of her progress, the English still thought they would be able to maintain control of France and eventually succeed in the takeover. What was the real nail in the coffin for them was Burgundy eventually removing themselves as an ally, leaving them without adequate support to take over such a large territory with such a high number of people.

Thus ends the Hundred Years' War. Over a century of incredible battles summed up in three crappy, poorly informed blog posts.

The Hundred Years' War: Part 2 - Caroline War

I remembered thinking "you know, I've got a lot of time at home this month, being between school and my summer job - I best write a lot, as I'll have more time now than ever." This was before I realized the World Cup was starting, and if I wasn't there to watch Spain fail, who would? Well... pretty close to half the world would... but I wanted to be a part of that half.

Numerous technological and military strategy advances
since the time of the Edwardian War led them to figure out
they could shoot their bows not just one foot away from
their enemy, but two.

Anyways, we left off with the end of the first third of the Hundred Years' War. In case you didn't read it, I'll sum it up; both the English and the French are fighting, sometimes they win, sometimes they lose, and they'll eventually call a truce. They'll cancel it shortly after, fight a little more, sometimes winning, sometimes losing, until they're out of resources and call a truce. Repeat these steps for a few years, and that's the Edwardian War. The second, named the Caroline War, is so named after Charles V of France who started the war back up again after the treaty no longer seemed appealing, which seems like all the rage back then. If you're wondering how the name 'Charles' converts to 'Caroline', well, you're not the only one.

Anyways, do you remember the War of Breton Succession? It occurred during the first section of the war, and the result was an English victory (or at least in the sense that the victorious claimant to the throne was the one England was backing). However, during the Caroline war, the French king reconciled with the new leader of Brittany, effectively giving the English no advantage. In fact, if anything it worked against them - Bertrand du Guesclin, who backed the French interests in Brittany, became an important commander for the French after the British pretty well swept in and took things over in there.

A statue of Bertrand du Guesclin,
apparently riding an eyeless, soulless
horse into battle.

Upon the restarting of the war (an English commander was killed, reigniting it) du Guesclin ran a series of carefully planned hit and runs, Fabian strategy style. He avoided major English armies, but took a number of towns along the way. When he did engage them, he was successful as well - he actually forced the Black Prince to leave France after defeating him soundly. To draw him into more open battle, bringing him out of his Fabian hidings, the English began to launch a number of Chevauchees. Chevauchees were attacks to basically break the world - crush the whole countryside to the point that they would have to face you, lest your country be pretty well annihilated. Even then, he was reluctant to attack, picking away at the forces and ultimately being quite successful.

Continuing the streak of French dominance in this section of the war, the English also began to lose their dominance at sea - kind of a low point for them considering their whole freaking country is pretty darn close to a coastline. The Battle of La Rochelle proved disastrous for the English, preventing them from properly supplying any expeditions into France and stifling their trade. The reaction was presumedly a great number of Brits saying "blimey...". England has had a rough go lately - first, the great sea battle of La Rochelle, and today they've lost 2-1 to Uruguay in the World Cup... if you see a British person, give them a pat on the back and some Earl Grey.

In the wake of getting their butts most thoroughly kicked, a one year truce was called and stretched out for several more years, ending the Caroline War with a number of French victories. Between this third and the next, Edward III and Charles V both died, being replaced by their much too young sons. That's surely to bring some controversy up.

The Hundred Years' War: Part 1 - Edwardian War

The Hundred Years' War, just from the name itself, gives rise to three varieties of people: one, a somewhat embarrassed person running a google search for "how long was 'The Hundred Years' War?"; two, someone eagerly awaiting the chance to correct someone and state the war actually spanned 116 years; and third, a one-upper arises to gleefully correct number two in saying that the timeframe stretched 116 years but the times in which they were actually fighting was somewhat shorter. Personally, I have already been number one, but by the time I am done this series I hope to be more than ready to be the jerk who becomes two, three, or even better, both on separate occasions when the need arises. As you know, the surest way to make friends is to correct people on minor details.

Edward III, practicing drawing the
family crest.

To set the tone for this exceedingly long conflict, I'll give a little background. The Edwardian War is the first of three sets of conflicts to split up the Hundred Years' War into more manageable pieces, this particular piece ranging from the dates of 1337-1360. The fighting arises from issues of who is the rightful owner of the French crown. The two choices came down to a matter of lineage mixed with a little bit of a distate of the idea of women in power. Charles IV, the king of France, died, the nearest male in line being Edward III of England - his mother being Isabella, sister of the dead king. However, since only men could be the leading monarch, he could not have lineage passed down from his mother - or so was the argument from the French aristocracy who claimed the nearest heir was Philip VI who may have been a little further out but went through a line of manhood. It was a case of "no girls allowed" that turned into a series of wars that lasted over a century.

Now, keep in mind that the war has not yet started - this is all just build up. When things really went south was when the French decided they were going to go in and take over Gascony, a place that preferred the rule of an English king that, for lack of a better term, decided to let them do their own thing without too much intervention - the French, on the other hand, felt the need to stick their stereotypically long noses into their affairs. This was what largely led to the war, but there were some other notable issues as well. Allegiances in the lower countries were split, France moved a naval fleet close to England (the middle ages way 'flexing' when you're a ruler), and France also supported Scotland who were by no means cool with England, which is an entirely different matter altogether. The issues in Scotland later allowed Mel Gibson to yell while wearing blue face-paint - a win for the whole world, really.

Edward III, the king of England, taking over in the wake of Edward II (who history seems to acknowledge was somewhat of a screwup) was charged with defending Gascony while the rest of the English fighting force would invade France from the north. Edward also purchased support in the lower countries in the form of mercenary groups and allegiances, forming an alliance which cost in the hundreds of thousands of pounds. He had to take out a loan from a few separate banks just to pay for the war, and you'll find that economics plays a massive role in how it all plays out.

While the English were holding out in Gascony, the French attacked the coastline of England, raiding a number of cities. England's armies split between a number of locations (the coastal defense, moving south into France, and defending in Gascony) meant a notable lack of protection against the general unrest of Scotland. Edward knew he had to solidify alliances with other lands or else he would slowly crumble under the weight of just too many battles. Fortunately, he got some help from Philip, although not intentionally. The would-be French king placed an embargo on the English goods going into Flanders (it's stated as mostly wool, but one can naturally assume tea, soccer balls and VHS copies of Monty Python were likely in the mix). Relying on those goods, Flanders revolted, taking a few other cities with the in the fight. It resulted in a strengthening of his forces in the south, as the low countries saw themselves as rebelling against Philip in favour of the true king of France - who, in this case, would be Edward... England's king. Yes, I find that a little confusing as well, but here we are.

A picture of one of the battles where they have not yet
learned that a bow and arrow can be used to attack an
enemy from greater than one foot away.

Many battles waged between both sides with varying degrees of success for both. Eventually, what struck the hardest was the economic pain of war. Crippling levels of debt plagued (foreshadowing!) both sides of the war, and they decided on a truce mostly due to a lack of funds to continue paying soldiers to go fight. As a result, they called what would be a relatively brief peace treaty.

During the peacetime, the Breton War of Succession came to pass. In a similar situation, a desire for the throne threw everything into chaos. Instead of going fully in depth about what the sides were so upset about, I'll give you the basics: France supported one guy who wanted the throne, the guy they didn't support went to England for help. By the way, a Breton is someone from the area in France called Brittany, in what I can only assume was called Breton instead of Briton because the English had already beaten them to the punch on that one. Anyways, to sum it up, England's armies won out and they called a truce once again due to exhaustion of resources.

William de la Pole, an important investor
for Edward III's war effort. Money was so
important they made a statue out of him.

The peace of course didn't last forever, and Edward was at it again with a great number of ships and men meant to raid and loot the countryside of France. They wouldn't take the territory, not wanting to engage the French quite yet, and would instead just pillage. The French eventually forced a battle, but the longbowmen of the British side were ultimately the deciding factor in pushing them back successfully. The Black Death (foreshadowing complete!) eventually stopped England from mounting any further pushes through France for the time being.

Once the plague started to recede, the fighting in this excessively stop and start war began again. Edward's son (lovably nicknamed the Black Prince, although not for any love of Ozzy Osbourne) took up the reins and went back to war, but this time with a notably savage twist; the raids he conducted were meant to kill the resources of the king, spread fear, and demoralize the French. During the fighting, the British captured the king and ransomed him off for a massive cost.

Completely lacking money at this point, France picks whatever is left of the bones of the peasantry, but scrapes a little too hard. An uprising (the Jacquerie, it's called) of the peasant class from the imposition of ridiculously high taxes, unpaid work and, regardless of all the taxation, the duty to defend the houses of the people pushing these rules on them. It was more of an anvil that broke the camel's back, rather than a straw. They destroyed a number of chateaux (the fancy houses of the nobles) while committing a bunch of atrocities against the higher class along the way. While they were eventually defeated, Edward tried to capitalize on the chaos and attacked but was defeated here and there regardless of the possible advantages he held.

In what feels like a somewhat anti-climactic end to the Edwardian section of the Hundred Years' War (I really was hoping that Black Prince guy - not to be confused with Martin Lawrence's The Black Knight - was going to be more of a central character) they decided to once again call a truce. Edward agreed to give up the throne to the French king, and he would take control over the territories of Aquitaine and Calais. Tune in next time for more war-time fun that surely will rival the excitement of next week's Game of Thrones episode.

Punic Wars: Part 3 - The Fall of Carthage

History is not a novel. It is not meant to inspire, have climaxes, follow any set narrative that furthers your interest and leaves you feeling some emotion that is meant to be conveyed to the reader from the author, whatever that may be. Instead, it's a mere statement of facts; yes, they can be tremendous, shocking, exciting and so forth, but unless you're deliberately altering the past, there will be times you're left wanting. The Third Punic War is just one of those rather disappointing stories. The first war told of Carthage, a tremendous naval power, going head to head with the up and coming armies of Rome. The second is a humbled giant poised to strike again with all the might that elephants, cavalry and wave after wave of infantry has to offer, led by one of the greatest military generals you're going to hear of. So the third is the last of the series, what should be a culmination of all that has happened that turns out to be an awe inspiring bloodbath between two major forces fighting it out for the supremacy of Mediterranean Europe. Instead, we got a third part of the series that is more than a little predictable and just didn't live up to what has been a tremendously interesting wartime tale. Essentially, we got a historical version of The Matrix: Revolutions. Of course this is all just my opinion. I'll leave it up to you to decide what you think.

Cato the Elder, one of the most adamant
believers in the destruction of Carthage.
He looks like a pleasant fellow.

In between the second and third wars, a time of just a touch over half a century, Rome was caught up in conquering the East, all the while taking over the Hispanic regions that helped them in the fight against Carthage. If I haven't said this before, I'll say it now - Rome as a whole was a seriously untrustworthy jerk of a city state a heck of a lot of the time. Anyways, what's important is they were rolling through Europe and Carthage was rolling in debt. The massive indemnity owed to the Romans was just being paid off, they had lost much of their territory and their allies were not too keen on supporting a dying land. Worse yet, all of their border issues were largely controlled by the Roman senate, requiring Carthage a "good-to-go" from the Romans before engaging in any conflicts. They frequently quarrelled with Numidia, bordering them on the east, who happened to be an ally of Rome; you can image how those cases must have gone.

Carthage had little choice but to suffer through it - and they did so for the fifty years they owed the Romans the large indemnity of silver they owed from the second war. However, here's where things get a little complicated; is the treaty entirely over, or just the silver they were supposed to pay? There were two ways of seeing it: Carthage has paid their debt in full and is no longer obligated to answer to the Roman senate as they had completed the requirements of the treaty; the second way of seeing it is the land of Carthage has a lot of productive farmland to feed Rome's increasingly large population, they are no longer paying silver, and they can be "justly" attacked under the guise of saying the terms of the treaty were not just for the silver but a permanent subordination to the powers of the Romans. Yeah... Rome thought the second option seemed a little more lucrative.

In 151 BC, shortly after the debt had been paid off, Numidia launched a strike against Carthage. Suffering a defeat, they were charged with yet another fifty year debt to Numidia for not getting consent from Rome. Rome subsequently declares war, and the Carthaginians do their best to appease the Romans and basically tell them to cool off a little. Oh, and by tell them, I mean practically beg them. They offered 300 children from well-to-do Carthaginians to be sent as hostages as Rome, and essentially be raised as slaves. The 300 used in the movie 300 were likely much more intimidating than the babies, and the offer was deemed not enough.

The war heats up, and Utica, a city under Carthage's control, decides to defect to the Romans and effectively serving as a base of assault. 80,000 men gather, and demand Carthage hands over all their weapons and armour - Carthage, scared out of their wits, complies. They then politely ask to move a great distance inland, while Rome burns the city to the ground. I kid you not. That's what they asked the Carthaginians to do. It's like asking the enemy army to shoot themselves, and when they don't comply, claiming you gave diplomacy your best shot. Naturally, they had no choice but to abandon negotiations at this point and the city of Carthage was under siege, effectively beginning the third Punic war. If people were placing bets, there would be no amount of Roman gold worth the odds of betting on Carthage's success.

The preserved, rather pretty ruins of Carthage. It looks
rather nice when it isn't on fire.

To their credit, Carthage fought hard. Their cavalry caused a number of problems for the Romans and they won a few battles here and there, notably one where the Roman fleet was burned from a number of fire ships sent over to their harbours. Carthage endured, fighting tooth and nail knowing they were backed in a corner and pretty well out of options, but the crushing size and strength of the Roman force eventually proved too much. It was an underdog story where the predicted victor goes in and wins predictably.

After the final battle, there remained only 50,000 Carthaginians, a small portion of what they had been at the beginning of the third Punic war. They were promptly sold into slavery, as was the tradition after taking over a city. Carthage itself was burned, it's walls and buildings destroyed, marking the end of a once great and powerful civilization that had stood for centuries. Carthage's territories were taken, and the fertile farmland surrounding Carthage served to be a great boost to the Romans' food supply. So after having their city burned to the ground and their territories taken, their land served to fuel the beast that destroyed them.

Ain't that a kick in the teeth?

Famous Historical Battles Have the Darndest Things Happen!

1. Utica, the city that turned over to Roman rule, eventually became the capital for the Roman territories in Africa. What a bunch of bandwagon jumpers.
2. The Romans didn't actually salt the ground like the myth goes. They wanted to use the farmland... why the heck would they salt it? 
3. Julius Caesar rebuilt the city about a century later when the Roman empire was thriving. I suppose if the land fuelling the Roman army was a kick in the teeth, this was dancing on the grave.  

Punic Wars: Part 2 - The Adventures of Hannibal

We left off with Carthage in financial peril after losing miserably to the Romans, despite many of the battles taking place on their favoured place of battle, the open waters. Tail between their legs and treaty in their hands (or paws, to keep with the metaphor) Carthage establishes itself as the leader of the Iberian Peninsula. Rome allows this, as this is part of the treaty. However, Saguntum, an Iberian coastal city with Roman diplomats within it, is just about right on the border, and... well, I'm beginning to realize a lot of wartime disputes sound painfully close to schoolyard arguments. Basically, the Romans claimed that in spite of the treaty made between Rome and Carthage claiming the political independence of Saguntum, Rome said it was theirs to do as they pleased and killed all of the Carthage supporters within the city; Carthage claimed the age old "no take backsies" clause, Rome refuting their argument with a well-timed "nuh-uh".

The result was much less schoolyard-ish, resulting in the new up-and-coming leader Hannibal to led Carthage in a siege of the city and Rome saying they didn't want it badly enough to bother going in and helping. Rome is really not trying for any honourable accolades as it seems. It took quite some time but Carthage eventually took Saguntum, much to the dismay of the inhabitants, many of which took their lives rather than face the Carthaginians. I suppose Carthage wasn't earning those accolades either.

I really can't get enough of the war elephants. In the words of
Futurama... they have "elephants that never forget... to kill!"

It's important to remember that Carthage was in crippling economic pain due to reparations from the treaty after losing the first Punic War, but they weren't without their forces. In Iberia alone (bear in mind they had a whole load of men in Africa as well) they had 90,000 infantry, 12,000 cavalry and 37 war elephants, an army that would rival any one in the world. This time instead of fighting Rome on the ocean they were going to fight on land, at least for the majority of the time. This initially sounds peculiar; a city-state that is almost entirely coastal, fighting another that's primarily focussed on land, and actively choosing to fight on the relatively less familiar turf. The reason for this choice was Rome was having some troubles with rebellions with some pesky Gauls who just so happened to be sympathetic to the Carthaginian cause. The tribes of Boii and Insurbres, already revolting, sent word to a northbound Hannibal at the foot of the Alps, informing him that with their guides he would be able to cross them and help support their cause, uniting them both against the Roman force.

Meanwhile, Rome was anticipating the arrival of the moving land-mass of elephants, horses and men that was bent on their annihilation and deemed it appropriate to consider doing something about it. They sent out a force to meet the Carthaginians before they left the Iberian Peninsula, knowing that if they struck them before meeting up with the uprising Gauls they had a better chance at victory. Unfortunately, the Carthaginians proved elusive and they were unable to meet them on the field of battle. How they missed 100,000+ soldiers is beyond me, but it's important to remember that this was well before the days of GPS, and I took not one but two wrong busses on the way home today. I suppose I can sympathize.

Hannibal crossing the Alps. At the top right you
can see a particularly clumsy elephant. He wasn't
going to win the war anyway.

Regardless of how it happened, they sent one of the Roman commanders back to Italy to help defend while leaving the other general, Gnaeus Cornelius Scipio Calvus (or Skippy for short, I assume) to bring the fight to Carthage. There were plenty of native tribes that were obviously harbouring some negative feelings towards the ruling Carthage, but were wary of joining the group that allied with Saguntum just prior to letting it completely burn to the ground. For whatever reason, they joined together regardless. Seeing the rising powers at his doorstep, Hanno, a brother of Hannibal who you'll learn certainly did not have the same natural mind for battle, thought it was best to fight the Romans mounting a force in Iberia before they became too large. He was so eager that he declined to wait on his reinforcements that were well on their way to support him, and challenged the Romans to a pitched battle (one which both sides agree to meet on a set field and fight it out, a la West Side Story except with less dancing and certainly less 60s fashion). Hanno was outnumbered two to one, resulting in what you would have to expect was a pretty predictable victory for the Romans. The reinforcements arrived but after a journey to meet them, and were obviously in no position to fight.

Further compounding the troubles back home for Carthage, Hasdrubal (the leader of the reinforcements that came too late) was about to find himself in another painful loss to Rome. Hoping to weaken the naval fleet of his enemy, but keenly remembering the many losses from the previous Punic war out on sea, he decided to move both his army and navy close together in a consolidated force. The purpose was to provide both moral support and a safe place to dock if need be. However, the army was hopelessly disorganized, and to put it as softly as I can, they were slaughtered. The most crippling result was a blockade between Roman soldiers and Hannibal, meaning the latter was off on his own without backup as no reinforcements could make their way to him. A few naval assaults were made over in Sicily, but bad weather and advanced knowledge on behalf of the Romans thwarted the attacks. Basically all eyes, and all Carthage hopes, were on their ruler with an admittedly giant army walking his way towards Italy.

Where everyone else in Carthage seemed like hopeless commanders, Hannibal was busy winning it almost single-handedly - along with, you know, his entire army. The Gallic tribes rose up against Rome and supported Carthage as was expected, the uprising being helped by Hannibal's army in the first place. Rome attempted to counter, but well timed ambushes slowed the Roman advance. The greatest accomplishment for Hannibal was yet to come, however; his next move involved crossing the Alps to catch the Romans by surprise, arriving much sooner than would be anticipated. Scoffing at the obvious difficulties, he brought 28,000 men, 6,000 cavalry and a number of elephants over the Alps with the help of native tribes and the Gauls. Rome has previously planning on moving on Africa, but the unprecedented speed on which they arrived set the entire plan back.

Carthage continued to fight (and win) in Roman territory, and as a result their army actually grew instead of dwindled; being unable to rely on the crappy leaders back home, he recruited more of the uprising Gauls to join him. The northern half of Italy was effectively in open revolt, seeing Hannibal as their leader. Wins kept on rolling in due to his exceptional military strategy; luring the Romans into an a trap at the battle of Trebia in which the defenders fought without breakfast and after crossing a cold river, also with the adding weight of a planned battlefield in which Carthage attacked with flanking forces as well, Rome lost 20,000 of the 40,000 that were in the fight. More and more Gauls joined, bringing the army to 60,000.

Hannibal was seemingly unstoppable, and rapidly approaching Rome. Tactically brilliant and with the force of the people on his side, the Romans prepared for the worst (the worst being losing the city of Rome - also dying). They heavily defended fortifications on the path towards Rome, but Hannibal simply moved around the flank and turned the tables on them, slipping past the enemy and effectively cutting off the Romans from their own city. Knowing that at this point they had to give chase and attack, the Romans moved right into the waiting hands of Hannibal's armies, ready and waiting in an ambush. They were slaughtered; cavalry was sent in afterwards but they as well were quickly defeated. A great number of prisoners were taken, the Roman ones being kept and the non-Romans were set free to spread "Carthage is saving you" propaganda to everyone that would listen. Rome at this point was a possible target, but ignoring his advisors Hannibal decided it would be too risky, the smarter move being to continue his plan of building up soldiers and biding his time. Hannibal was brilliant, but careful.

A well-preserved road that was actually used by the
armies of Fabius. I know it's just a road, but still...
when you really think about it, it's pretty amazing.

At this point Rome was freaking out about as hard as you could expect. A number of their generals were indisposed (you know, dead) and they chose to appoint somewhat of a military dictator to control the troops. The name of the man was Quintus Fabius Maximus, well known for his Fabian strategy he would employ on the armies of Hannibal. It consisted of open refusal of large scale battles, instead favouring skirmishes with small groups to weaken the greater force. Despite the fact that Rome as a whole pretty well hated it (they nicknamed him Cunctator, meaning delayer) as they thought it was a cowardly way to fight, it was effective. Hannibal was weakening due to the constant shots from the Fabian strategy. Rome was also slightly peeved at the fact that they weren't directly assaulting the army that was wandering around ravaging their homeland - admittedly a reasonable complaint. At one point a commander rose up and called Fabius a coward and moved to attack Hannibal. His traditional method resulted in Hannibal ambushing his force, and the commander didn't speak up too much against him after that.

Well, the commander didn't... but the rest of Rome certainly did. They were eager for a large scale assault, and decided to double the army supply and take the force to Hannibal's door. Eager for battle, they charged the Carthaginians on a ground that was much better suited for Hannibal who once again planned his defence flawlessly. In the battle of Cannae, 50-70,000 Romans died or were captured, a colossal loss. The shaming resulted in Greek cities in Sicily being induced to riots as well, and several southern Italian allies moving towards the way of Hannibal. Directly after the battle, there was a brief path to Rome in which Hannibal would be relatively unimpeded, but the careful, tactical manner in which Hannibal attacked proved to work against him this time. He waited too long and missed his opportunity, much the way when one has to defecate but decides to wait for the commercial and then no longer has to go. Both result in the most profound of regrets.

The caption on Wikipedia said
it was Hannibal counting the signet
rings of fallen Roman generals
(which is really cool) but it just looks
like he's standing there...

Hannibal's army, separated from his home and lacking reinforcements, eventually began to dwindle. They won some battles here and there, but Rome was retaking her cities and pestilence began to plague his numbers. It soon drew to a stalemate, and generally speaking the one closer to home is the one that is going to hold out. Meanwhile, Iberia was faring no better, and they were routed in Africa as well. The world was crumbling around Hannibal, and while he almost made peace with Scipio, breaches of conduct on either side prevented peace; Scipio was angry over the ambush tactics used by Hannibal, Hannibal angry over how Rome dealt with Saguntum. A final large scale battle between the two, in which Hannibal didn't want to lead because he was certain they would not hold their ground, resulted in Carthage reluctantly accepting their losses and taking a peace offering.

Once again, Carthage was pitted with a massive war indemnity to slap around their economy even further than before. Their navy was limited to only ten ships, just enough to ward off pirates. Hannibal, meanwhile, became a businessman for several years until he was exiled to Asia where he continued to fight the Romans until he was cornered and committed suicide. It was not a fitting end for such a tremendous military tactician. But hey, he still lost, so... he couldn't have been that good.

What made the second Punic war seemed to be when an army chose to attack: if Hanno had waited for reinforcements, the Iberian front could have ended entirely differently; Hannibal's ambushes and luring armies worked wonders throughout his campaign; the Fabian strategy of persistent waiting was critical in Rome's eventual success, with the traditional run-up-and-fight strategy failing time and time again; lastly, Hannibal dropping the ball just one time meant that he missed his opportunity to take Rome. The second war really just came down to a matter of timing.

Famous Historical Figures Say the Darndest Things!

1. "Carthage must be destroyed." The words of Cato the Elder. It sounds like it's not that great of a quote, but it's all about context. Cato would say this at the end of every speech, believing that Carthage would rise again if not entirely crushed. Yes, every speech, even if it had absolutely nothing to do with Carthage. 
2. "Let us relieve the Romans from the anxiety they have so long experienced, since they think it tries their patience too much to wait for an old man's death." Hannibal's last words, apparently realizing Rome was not particularly fond of him. He was not to be later reunited with Scipio on some ancient version of Maury.

Punic Wars: Part 1 - Fighting for Sicily

The Punic Wars were three battles fought between the Roman Republic (but back before they were all-powerful and more than a little frightening, the Roman Republic was the child of the Roman Empire) and Carthage, a city-state with an particularly strong talent for naval warfare. The term "Punic" stems from a latin word related to the Phoenicians, of whom the Carthaginians claim lineage from. It has a better ring to it than "The Carthaginian Wars", but less so than "Carthaginian Crucible of Carnage and Conflict".

Carthage is the greyish blobs, Rome the red. That's
all you need to know.

At the time of the beginning of the Punic Wars, 264 B.C., Carthage controlled much of the coastal land of the Mediterranean. They were seen as the naval power of the time, and didn't have so much in the way of opposition. Rome, on the other hand, was an increasingly threatening power but at this point contained within the Italian Peninsula. The war they were about to fight would last twenty three years, and may have just been the largest wars that have occurred up until that time. Here, I'll be writing about the first of the three wars, readily admitting that I now know only of this one and very little of the following, save for the fact that (spoiler) Rome wins out.

What led up to the war was a group of Italian mercenaries mucking about in Sicily, hired by a Greek in Syracuse. They went by the name of the Mamertines, and they quickly earned a pretty negative reputation by killing a great number of people in the city of Messana, with all the looting and pillaging that is associated with sacking a city. The leader of Syracuse, Hiero II, feared the Mamertines further causing trouble and defeated them in battle - but not entirely. They were left with enough to appeal to both Rome and Carthage for some much needed help, to stem the tide of dying and whatnot. Carthage quickly took the charge, but in a "beggars can be choosers" plot twist they continued to appeal to the love of raiding and pillaging they shared with Rome in order to become allies.

The reaction in Rome was mixed; they thought it would be poor form to join forces with a marauding group of mercenaries that had ever so recently taken a city unjustly, but on the other hand, Carthage was becoming a powerful force and if they joined forces with the Mamertines they would surely take the whole island. Fearing the latter, and likely finding some sort of tenuous moral justification in order to not sound so sleazy, Rome reluctantly agreed to help the mercenaries. Unfortunately, this wasn't just picking some schoolyard chum - a rivalry was growing between Carthage and Rome, and an alliance with both simply wouldn't fly. They picked their side and they were about to live or die by it.

Agrigentum, a rather important dot
on a map.

Rome felt it was time for war, but a war that was in unfamiliar territory and circumstances. The Romans fought with great numbers of infantry, lacking prowess on the seas. The island of Sicily did not lend itself to that variety of warfare, however; hills, difficult to traverse terrain, and the obvious fact that Rome was not connected by land to the place of battle meant that they were about to be taken rather quickly out of their comfort zone. Land battles were to be limited to small battles and raids on supplies, typically centred around hitting ports and blockading pretty much whatever they could - far from the Roman way. What they did have going in their favour was the element of surprise, and by that I mean landing quickly with as many troops as they could and beating the crap out of the Carthaginians attacking the Mamertines in Messana. The crap-beating successful, they turned their eye on Syracuse, besieging that, too, and forcing them to take a critical peace deal that also had the stipulation of supplying the lower quality Roman navy with supplies. Considering both armies were away from home, an immediate source was extremely important in the battles to come.

Carthage, meanwhile, was not ill-prepared. Their rule stretched over the coastal areas of the Mediterranean, including large sections of the northern part of Africa. Seeking assistance, they hired mercenary groups from the territory, composed of fifty thousand infantry, six thousand cavalry, and - get this - sixty elephants. Can you believe that? Elephants! Perhaps they just wanted to match the Romans using trumpets to sound off the start of battle, and they thought it was cheaper.

The first major battle was in Agrigentum. A Roman assault of four legions (typically comprised of 5,400 men in each) attacked the city, but was oh so rudely interrupted by Carthaginians coming to ruin the raiding party. Surrounded and with supplies cut off, the Roman force began to fall to disease, and had to act quickly and effectively - but a Roman battle on land and in the open (open battle was actually something the Carthaginians wanted as well) resulted in a victory for Rome, taking the city. The Carthage army was damaged, but they had yet to fight on their turf - the open sea.

The expert technology used by the Romans on the sea.
1. Add nail to ladder  2. Hit other ship with nail
3. Kill people on ship  4. Repeat

The next major stage for war was the Battle of Mylae, one that Carthage thought was going to be a sure victory. Their navy outnumbered the Romans, although not by much; They had 130 ships to what is likely about 100 for Rome. Inexperienced shipbuilders, the Romans likely could have received help from Syracuse, or from taking ideas from shipwrecked Carthaginian vessels. Or, they could have learned incredibly fast. Or their ships could have completely sucked, but they went out anyways. The point is, it's not too clear. What matters is the manner in which the Romans fought: they placed a bridge-like structure that was used to board the enemy boats, allowing them to fight as if on land, a terrain much more familiar. The invention led them to a victory, forcing Carthage to retreat with a loss of both ships and likely a loss of pride after being schooled by an amateur on what they thought was kind of their thing.

Feeling confident, and in all fairness justly so, Rome ventured south to Africa to muck about in Carthaginian territory. Once again, they were successful - they won out, and began to write up terms for peace with the defeated armies. However, their terms were too heavy - perhaps they wanted too many elephants - and it forced the defenders to hire Xanthippus, a Spartan mercenary to reorganize their army. Since he's a Spartan, he obviously got the job done, likely while dropping one liners, and forced the Romans back. Needing retreat, Rome sent a great number of ships to Africa to save their men, but on the return trip a great storm (perhaps summoned by the sheer will of a single angry Spartan mercenary) killed nearly 90,000 men.

Damaged but not defeated, the Romans continued to rebuild. Carthage, however, was running short on financial abilities to fuel the war effort, whereas Rome found a way to consistently bleed investors enough to continue building ships and finding supplies. It became a slow and steady takeover, leaving the Romans as the victors but both financially in peril. A great number of casualties hit both sides, but Rome emerged as the new hot shot in the Mediterranean. To ensure their new status, they imposed a number of economic demands on Carthage, preventing them from recovering and becoming the power they once were. This also marked the first time Rome decided to expand out of the Italian Peninsula, and if we check the history books, it turns out they were really fond of this whole "expand their borders and gain power" deal. So after twenty three years of war, everything was all gravy. Carthage is safely economically shattered, Rome is the new high school bully of the seas, and they have more elephants than they know what to do with.

What could possibly go wrong?

Famous Historical Battles Give the Darndest Statistics!

1. Once again, it's darn near impossible to find a decent quote for events that long ago, so... have some stats. Part of the peace treaty to cripple Carthage economically included 145,000 pounds of silver to be paid in ten annual instalments. I think even the cost of transporting that much would cost enough to mess things up quite a lot.
2. Almost 300,000 men died in the battle.
3. 150 Roman ships were lost in a single storm. Someone forgot to pray to Neptune!

Building the Canadian Pacific Railway: Part 2 - The Pacific Scandal

I don't know what's happening, but...
yeah, it shows that things were bad.

While this isn't a true "part 2" as it doesn't follow in chronological order, I thought the Pacific Scandal warranted its own entry all to itself. Imagine the situation: Canada just becomes a country, and already the very first leader is thrown into a massive corruption scandal and is kicked out of office. While I can't seem to find any information about it, I can only imagine how heavily the anti-Confederationists were gloating - "Ha-ha, good show, old sport! Surely our Dominion will be as long lasting as my fifth cup of tea prior to dining!". Bear in mind we were still very much British at the time. That's why the tea thing made sense. Ahem.

To set the scene: Americans were interested in buying the contract for the railroad, many with the idea in mind that Canada would eventually be left open to annexation as the U.S. would effectively control the land west of the Great Lakes through the monopoly on transportation. That, and a lot of the money would naturally funnel back to America. As well, the Yankees were hoping to have the railroad also swing through the States, further Americanizing what is meant to be a massive Canadian endeavour. Obviously, every true Canadian wanted to oppose this with every maple syruped covered first they had. Keep in mind, especially at the time, anti-American sentiments were pretty well engrained in Canadians. If they had made the flag then, it would likely have a middle finger pointed towards the south.

His political dealings were as wild as his hairstyle.

So in walks Hugh Allan, a Canadian known to have a great number of American economic backers. The government most certainly knew this, but strapped for cash and seeing an opportunity to build the darn railroad that was seemingly working harder to work towards crushing Macdonald's soul than actually getting built, they had to take a look at every option that came forward. Allan had the means and the capital, but it was the American aspect of it that really threw a wrench in the works.

Now, obviously, dealing with Americans isn't a crime - at least not something you can be convicted of in court. The criminal aspect came in when Allan started to throw a few dollars Macdonald's way, and that money was in turn spent on campaigning. Except it wasn't just a few dollars - it was $300,000. In exchange for the capital, Macdonald hinted he would provide Allan (and thus his American backers) with the contract to build the CPR. If you're thinking this sounds familiar, it's because the Chretien government actually did something rather similar, with taking funds from a program meant to quiet Quebec separatism by advocating Canada and using it to fund their political campaigns. When it came out, it worked to pretty much kill the Liberals in Quebec for many, many years to come. Whoops.

Apparently, the $300,000 was spent
on making cool posters like this.
Money well spent.

Anyways, Macdonald eventually backed out of the deal, which pissed off the Americans just about as much as you would imagine. All of it came out in the press eventually, and Macdonald was quite literally sick with worry. His health started to deteriorate heavily knowing he will most certainly be kicked out of office and his legacy would be severely damaged. This is all in addition to the fact that Macdonald was a high functioning alcoholic. A few tidbits about John A. - he once was at a debate in which he was so drunk he puked during the thing. His response when he got up to speak was his opposition's words made his stomach turn. He was a great speaker, undoubtedly. While he was in the senate defending himself, he was so drunk when he gave his speech in his own defence he had to be helped up in order to speak - and then gave a rousing, fantastic speech the likes of which Canada has yet to hear. In fact, during that time, it was said that he had two people filling his drinks; one was giving him water, the other gin. However, it may have been that both were giving him gin thinking the other was providing the water. Whoops.

Macdonald was actually so stressed during this time, he got up and left. Yes. He left. For weeks. He may have simply gone fishing, but people didn't know. Picture this in nowadays time - a Prime Minister is caught up in a massive scandal, and it stresses him out so he decides to leave the public eye for a few weeks, nowhere to be found. It would be world-wide news, absolutely. The problem for Macdonald is he was without question guilty, and there wasn't really so much they could do about it but delay - and delay they most certainly did. It sure took quite some time, most certainly taking more time to break down poor Macdonalds fragile mind at this point, but eventually he was kicked out and the Liberals moved in shortly after. He then came back a few years later to once again take up the role of Prime Minister, demonstrating that people have a very short memory of political dealings in both modern day and at the time of Confederation.

Famous Historical Figures Say the Darndest Things!

1. The government "trafficked with foreigners in Canada's most precious interests in order to debauch the constituents of the Dominion with the gold obtained at the price of their treachery!" Words spoken by Lord Dufferin. People sure did hate things more eloquently back then.
2. "[Macdonald is the] greatest corruptionist America had produced." 
3. After hearing words that the government shall rise again... "Rise again! But that resurrection shall not be until the last trump shall sound - when the graves shall give up their dead an death and hell shall give up the dead that are in them!" Well, actually, it would be a few years down the line, but either one.

Building the Canadian Pacific Railroad: Part 1 - "Insane Recklessness"

The logo for the CPR. The
beaver is such a nobel animal; a
beautiful furry rodent-thing.

People say Canadian history isn't interesting, and quite frankly, a fair few times they're correct. I place most of the blame on the manner in which it's taught in schools and how that breeds total disregard for the mixed bag of interesting and mind numbingly boring Canadian facts as if they're all the latter and none of the former. There's plenty of absolutely insane stuff that happens in our past, much of which is covered by Canada's own Pierre Berton, a leading historical author that has been praised for making the subject matter almost as if it's a story, making it readable and lively. He's also been criticized for making the subject matter almost as if it's a story, playing a touch fast and loose with the facts. Regardless of opinions, I read what turned out to be a fairly arduous journey through The National Dream, Berton's book on the building of the Canadian Pacific Railway and all the politics leading up to it. It wasn't a a bad read, but it did have the tendency of many passionate historians to overwhelm you with facts that are only relevant if you're reading so in depth on the topic as to base your life around it. What I'm trying to say is I found little interest in the colour of the wagon that crossed the street on July 14th, 1869 - it was likely just brown, anyways.

Regardless of being perhaps a touch too well researched, falling much the way of Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs and Steel, the subject matter in and of itself is actually fascinating. Canada decided it was going to build the greatest railroad of all time when the country is only four - a mere toddler learning to walk and crawl, we should have practised building a few models first. In addition to that, it's not like it was linking a massive amount of people - Canada was only holding three and a half million at the time, and for comparisons sake, the U.S. was sitting with well over ten times that amount. They had just finished their largest railroad undertaking, one that was a thousand miles shorter than the would-be CPR. Nevertheless, the railway was to be built as it was a political promise to some of the provinces to join Confederation, thus linking the country together. Fortunately, never once has a politician been known to break their word.

A CPR train with a few of the workers. Those darn kids,
always using their filters on their photographs...

Unfortunately for Canada, building the rail wasn't exactly just a little bit of elbow grease and olde-timey work ethic. It required several pantloads of money - one hundred million to be exact, which is certainly a great number of pantloads. To put that in perspective, a dollar a day was a decent wage at the time. So where was Canada going to snatch up all this money? John A. Macdonald, the man largely behind the idea in the first place, decided that it was a great idea to go against every Canadian ideal ever and get in bed with the Yankees. He took a great deal of money from an American backer for funding his political campaigns and in turn he was meant to give the man the contract for the railway. Naturally this is comically corrupt, and was later named the Pacific Scandal. I will be detailing this in the exciting part two of this blog.

What you need to know is he was kicked out of office pretty quick, and replaced by Alexander Mackenzie and the Liberal party. During this great political mess, surveyors were sent out to find the right trail for the railway. It's difficult to express just how tough these poor guys had it. They would be traversing land never before seen by white dudes, plowing through ridiculously cold winters, moving through clouds of mosquitoes so thick they would look simply like a black mass of intense frustration and all the while they don't really have all that great an idea of where they are or where they're going. One of the most famous crews was out on the trail for one hundred and sixteen days and travelled 1,887 miles. Of those, 932 were on show-shoes and 332 of them with all their goods on their backs. Their dogs had died sometime back, presumedly from consciously deciding that death was a much more enjoyable alternative. Honestly, I would have sided with the dogs.

Some of the engineers that worked on the
railway. The mutton chops on the guy
at the top left represent the majesty
of the grand, Canadian rail.

Thanks to the tireless efforts of the surveyors, they had somewhat of a plan as to where they wanted the railway to move. However, the issue of how they'd pay for the darn thing was yet unsolved. They began selling contracts to builders, but even that was rife with political corruption, a problem that apparently was a cornerstone of early Canada. Keep in mind secret ballots weren't introduced until 1874, and the previous way of voting was to publicly call out who you wanted in. Voter intimidation and bribery was about as prominent as you'd believe, as you can clearly see if the dude you bought a sandwich for actually voted the way you wanted him to. What I don't get is how secret ballots weren't introduced earlier, as folding a sheet of paper and putting it in a box was not groundbreaking technology... but anyway, I digress. The corruption with the contracts was related to the Liberals giving the contracts to, well, Liberals. $5,257,336 worth of contracts were sold, and $4,986,659 went to prominent Liberals, a number of which would later have spots in government.

Running on a hilariously hypocritical platform of accusing the Liberals of corruption, John A. returns to office with 133 seats to 73. How a man who had so clearly screwed the voters got voted back in so quickly is almost as baffling as Rob Ford still being allowed to be in office. You have to hand it to Macdonald - he had a way with speeches. This time, to his credit, he changed his ways and brought in a much more effective way of moving the railway forward. Instead of paying the lowest bidder on the contract to build the section, (in and of itself creating a number of problems with shoddy worksmanship) he changed it to promising the builders land according to how much they've built. This lowered the cost to the government substantially and promoted building the western provinces that would build up shortly after. Way to go, John.

So the building of the railway begins. In addition to the obvious problems (massive expense, vast territory, tons of work, Irish workers, etc.) they had to deal with a whole pantload (a different unit of measurement than the previous usage of pantload) of muskegs and sinkholes. The terrain was absolutely brutal. That, and they'd have to blow up large chunks of mountains in order to build the railway through them using nitroglycerin. Unfortunately, they didn't have the same safety precautions as we would nowadays. There were small spills, meaning there would be little black spots you'd have to keep your eye out for while walking the trail or you very well might lose a leg in a small explosion. They also put the nitroglycerin in their backpacks, meaning it would shake around and occasionally, well... explode. It was pretty brutal work.

What ended up being the saving grace for the railway was a group of Montreal men that decided to purchase a vast amount of the railway, much of the expense coming through subsidies of the government. It was a massive risk for the men that would soon be called the Syndicate, as they were actually boring money form a bank they owned in order to finance the expedition. If it fell through, it would essentially ruin them all. However, it worked out just fine and the people of Canada sure were happy for it because of one main fact - these guys weren't American. True north strong and free!

Famous Historical Figures Say the Darndest Things!

1. "If ever our bones will be discovered, when and by whom. If our friends will mourn long for us or do as is often done, forget us as soon as possible. In short, I have been looking death in the face..." A quote from one of the surveyors, written down in his journal. Seriously, things got bleak.
2. "Until this great work is completed, our Dominion is nothing more than a 'geographical expression'. We have as much interest in British Columbia as in Australia, and no more. The railway, once finished, we become one great united country with a large interprovincial trade and a common interest." Governor of the HBC, Sir Stafford Northcote