#civil air defence

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

Scenes During Realistic C.D.C. Tests Before Blackout Last Night,” Windsor Star. November 19, 1942. Page 5. ---- FIRES lit the darkness last night an hour before the city's shortest but most effective blackout. City board of works trucks carried huge piles of scrap wood and cardboard to 11 different Civilian Defence districts and actual fires mush- roomed in the most unexpected places. On the left above a C.D.C. volunteer is seen manning a stirrup pump on a blaze a few feet from the corner of Ouellette and Erie, one of the busiest intersections of the city. On the right above, 14-year-old John Maisonneuve, of 1135 Louis, gets swift and efficient attention from first aid workers for dangerous arm "wounds" suffered when he got in the way of a few "bomb" splinters. C.D.C. workers were everywhere. The city-wide test proved very satisfactory.

[uniquethings03]

Indian Airforce Agniveer Vayu Intake 01/2025 Exam Online Form 2024 Extended

Indian Airforce Agniveer Vayu Intake 01/2025 Exam Online Form 2024 Extended

[allthegeopolitics]

Israeli air strikes on a girls' school in Deir al-Balah, central Gaza, killed at least 30 people and wounded over 100 on Saturday, the Palestinian health ministry said.

Khadija Girls' School was sheltering over 4,000 displaced Palestinians, according to civil defence officials in the enclave. A field hospital was also operating inside the school complex.

“I am so lucky to have survived,” Fadel Keshko, a 22-year-old man who was staying in the school with his sick grandmother and nephew, told Middle East Eye.

“The building I took shelter in was directly targeted. The distance between me and the rocket was just a metre away. I am horrified and terrified.” [...]

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Tagging: @vague-humanoid

[opencommunion]

"An Israeli strike on Sunday killed at least 23 people, including seven children, and wounded six others in Almat, a village in Lebanon's northern Jbeil district, the Lebanese health ministry said.

The ministry said the death toll is likely to rise as rescue workers continue to search for victims under the rubble. It added that body parts retrieved in the aftermath of the attack would undergo DNA testing to identify them.

In south Lebanon, three medics were also killed in an Israeli strike that targeted a Civil Defence vehicle of the Islamic Health Authority in Adloun, in the Saida district. The ministry condemned Israel's repeated targeting of paramedics as a 'war crime.'

Earlier, Lebanese media reported an Israeli strike on a house in the historic eastern city of Baalbek, which was not preceded by an Israeli army 'evacuation' warning.

For the past two days, the Israeli military has conducted a series of air strikes on southern and eastern villages and locations. 

Overnight, more than a dozen Israeli air raids struck the southern suburbs of Beirut, known locally as Dahiyeh, where many buildings have now been almost entirely flattened by nearly two months of heavy bombardment.

On Saturday, Israeli air strikes on southern and eastern Lebanon, including Tyre and the Baalbek-Hermel region, killed at least 40 people, including several children. 

More than 3,130 people have been killed in Lebanon since fighting between Israel and Hezbollah began in October last year, according to Lebanon's health ministry, most of them since September 23, when Israel launched a wide-scale bombing campaign across Lebanon and a ground invasion."

[zvaigzdelasas]

Mahmoud Bassal, the civil defence spokesperson in Gaza, said the "massacre" left the hospital's floor "covered in dead bodies", while first responders struggled to pick them up. “It is a pogrom. It is unprecedented throughout the history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict,” Bassal said. “Gaza is now a big cemetery, what is happening is madness, what happened in Deir Yassin is happening now but worse. Children’s limbs are scattered on the ground. "When will the world stand up for Gaza?" Ashraf al-Qudra, the spokesperson of the health ministry, said hundreds of wounded people remain scattered across the floor. He added that electricity at Al-Shifa Hospital, where survivors of the bombing were being taken, has run out. [...]

Hamas called the attack a "massacre" that amounts to a "crime of genocide". "The horrific massacre carried out by the Zionist occupation in the Gaza City’s Al-Ahly Hospital which left hundreds of casualties, most of them displaced families, patients, children and women, is a crime of genocide that once again reveals the ugly face of this criminal enemy and its fascist and terrorist government," the Palestinian movement said in a statement. "This also exposes the American and western support for this criminal occupation."

Hussein al-Sheikh, the deputy to the PA President Mahmoud Abbas, echoed Hamas' condemnation. The Ramallah-based administration declared three days of mourning, while its forces continued to disperse protesters across the West Bank.

17 Oct 23

[swordoffrivolousthings]

The gods in PJO are not godly enough, in my opinion

I will start this rant by saying that this is only one of my problems with the PJO series. I understand why Riordan has humanized them, I know this is a middle school age book series. But I am older and I want to make them freaky and strange and kind of eldritch. With little to no explanation as for my choices.

ZEUS. He is the Olympian king of the gods, god of the sky, weather, law and order, destiny and fate and kingship. He is the law, as any king is. Every word he says is godly law, every little order will be followed. He is the king. So, he is stone-faced, made of marble, with no expression other than thoughtfulness and severeness (even if he sometimes isn't). His eyes are pure lightning, the hurricanes that ravage the world and the gentlest of summer rains. Most days, when he speaks of future events, they tend to happen that way, if not overruled by a higher power. His very presence is the ozone layer being brought down, heavy, tiring mortals and demigods out quickly. He treads lightly, with steps like gentle patters of rain, but his every breath is thunder.

HERA. The goddess of marriage, women, the sky and the stars of heaven, and the Olympian queen of the gods. Marriage, despite her own being something less than aspiring, is sacred. Couples that marry are under her protection, she still blesses their marriages. She sky shifts with her emotions, getting darker and night starting to fall. Her himation worn over her head, the only garment visible, reflecting the sky above. Her eyes, two bright stars, seeing something more than human perception can begin to understand.

POSEIDON. Olympian god of the sea, earthquakes, floods, drought and horses. His body is not, just from the corner of the eye, made of muscle, bones and tendons. Water, swirling and moving in the shape of a man, the odd strand of algae. Then you turn and he is barely human, but not saltwater. The waves seek and tug at his heels whenever he walks along the beach. His eyes, oceanic tectonic plates crashing, sending tsunamis to devastate the world. The air around him is salty, sea air clinging to his skin. Algae appear in his wake, reeking of the sea.

DEMETER. Olympian goddess of agriculture, grain and bread who sustained mankind with the earth's rich bounty. In her wake, every step makes a grain sprout, growing tall and healthy, and nothing can take it down. The seasons are slowly blooming and booming in her presence, the spring more verdant, the summer hotter, autumn plentiful beyond measure and winter always frigid. From behind her ears sprout oats and barley, always young and vibrant green, crowning her in the coming bounty. Her eyes are the colour of wheat, and when the wind blows the shadows in her eyes move with it.

ARES. Olympian god of war, battlelust, courage and civil order. He is war, bloody and cruel, senseless, personified. His very presence makes fights break out, indignities and betrayals happen. He is an oppressive force that bring the bravery out of the people, along with all the hate. If he stays long enough in one place, even Olympus, war breaks out, be it civil or not. This is why he never stays in one place too long. He is luting for blood, but war had wearied him. He will not do the same mistake twice, even in war. His eyes are the open wounds of soldiers, bleeding, infected, dying skin and rotting meat.

ATHENA. Olympian goddess of wisdom and good counsel, war, the defence of towns, heroic endeavour, weaving, pottery and various other crafts. Every tapestry and pot and garment worked by hand that is not up to her godly standard shrivels and turns to ash in her presence, obliterated by her beyond-human perfectioned craft. Towns are instantly protected when she is there, good grace and godly favour. War, like Ares, follows her. It is not kinder, nor is it bearable. Calculated, cold, some would argue that her wars are crueler, sadistic. Eyes like garment fiber and shattered pots, blood covering them.

APOLLO. Olympian god of prophecy and oracles, music, song and poetry, archery, healing, plague and disease, and the protection of the young. The sun, a power passed on, burns under his skin. It is the worst in the summer months, when the sun is more preeminent. His music, lighting every room in shades of enticement, is otherworldly, his voice, be it in song or word, is a mastery of perfection. From his hands, a single touch can be salvation or sickness. His arrows, silver for his twin, always strike true, no matter the target. His presence brings prophecies and fates to light. The power of the sun is in his eyes.

ARTEMIS. Olympian goddess of hunting, the wilderness and wild animals. She was also a goddess of childbirth, and the protectress of the girl child up to the age of marriage. Around her sprout forests, wild and untainted, a world where humans could get lost in and never be found again. Wild animals prowl after her, protectors and friends of her hunters. When the night is darkest, a power inherited, her skin lights up, a moon to shine in the dark of the shadows. Her hunters, her girls, are protected and her wrath is painful and cruel, like her domains, and they are recognisable by their golden arrows.

HEPHAESTUS. Olympian god of fire, smiths, craftsmen, metalworking, stonemasonry and sculpture. Beneath his skin flames are visible, a moving part of him, like tattoos. Every piece of metal he works with, no matter how briefly, turns into beatiful and powerful tools, an art all of their own. His buildings are steady and everlasting, the stone protected by his touch. His eyes, the hammer hitting metal, are coloured in such a way that they resemble statue's eyes.

APHRODITE. Olympian goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation. Born of sea foam and godly blood, the salt clings to her. Curls her hair and makes her glow, the power of the sea just under her perfect skin. Everyone finds something beautiful in the face of beauty. It is enchanting, a spell most can hardly exist. She is everything everyone could ever want, a goddess for everyone's taste. Yet her anger is born of the sea, a cruel and unforgiving sort of death. To make love dislike you is to lose it all in the blink of an eye. To disrespect a goddess means death.

HERMES. Olympian god of herds and flocks, travellers and hospitality, roads and trade, thievery and cunning, heralds and diplomacy, language and writing, athletic contests and gymnasiums, astronomy and astrology. He speaks in languages long lost, and his travel notes are written in queer glyphs and writing systems. Sheep like him, without doubt. The souls of humans clash and itch to follow him when he enters a room, beyond willing to be taken to the underworld. The stars illuminate his path, a road he knows by heart but they don't care. They will guide him, no matter what.

DIONYSUS. Olympian god of wine, vegetation, pleasure, festivity, madness and wild frenzy. Vines grow from his footsteps, water and seawater and nectar and any other drink turn to wine in his hand. Where he is, the frenzied, happy and drunk follow, a retinue of people that enjoy and enjoy and enjoy. There is nothing not to like at first glance, and only at first glance. When one looks closer, the insanity begins. It is like sparks in his eyes, a nonsensical word past his lips. When you look closer at the people, there is no happiness in the thaws of madness.

HESTIA. The virgin goddess of the hearth and the home. It does not make her kind, because the gods rarely are. It makes her steady, the fire in the home that keeps the chill away from making itself at home. The fire that lights the way back home, sacred in temples and to extinguish it is to forsake her favour. Homes she has blessed are cozy, full of love, of safety. It does not make them fireproof.

HADES. The king of the underworld and god of the dead. He, king over bones and lost memories. His wife, unnamable, his presence like the heavy hand of time on mortal shoulders. Bones and skulls and the wispy whisper of the lost are his retinue. Half decomposed corpses his servants and valets and butlers. His name, scorned, is never said but on the eve of the winter solstice, when death is the surest companion. His eyes, dark but brittle as bone, promise something any other god can't understand.

PERSEPHONE. Goddess queen of the underworld, wife of the god Hades. She was also the goddess of spring growth. Her presence brings with it the smell of the first flowers of spring, little by little making the world greener. But her steps are always silent, always just a little far from the ground. She is a queen, death is her and her husband's domain. Of course she is ghostly, terrifying. Her perfume is of freshly dug earth and autumnal rain, the weeps of widows and widowers, the death of the young and elderly. Her name is unspoken, a curse when invoked. You will not hear her name on Olympus, in mortal mouths. Kore, Despoena, her titles are safe. Her eye is not benevolent, when it's attention is captured.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

A lawyer representing grieving family members of a 28-year-old Edmonton man who was fatally shot by a police officer nearly two weeks ago says they are angry and gathering information about what happened. Tom Engel, a criminal defence and civil rights lawyer and frequent critic of the Edmonton Police Service (EPS), said the family wants to know why a police officer shot Mathios Arkangelo while he was holding his hands in the air. "There's absolutely no justification for using lethal force," he told CBC News in an interview on Thursday. The province's police watchdog, the Alberta Serious Incident Response Team (ASIRT), is investigating the shooting, which occurred in daylight on June 29 on a residential street in the Fraser neighbourhood in northeast Edmonton.  Others are also scrutinizing the circumstances around the death of Arkangelo, who was Black.

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Tagging: @newsfromstolenland, @abpoli

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: a commission from @tired-lime who's always a darling to work with 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor Kenway x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6.7k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, enemies to lovers, porn with plot, fingering, handjobs, creampies, unprotected sex

You walk as calmly as you can through the narrow alley, not daring to lift your eyes from where they look straight ahead of you and glance towards the rooftops that cast darkness over you, the silvery moonlight gleaming just ahead as the streight leads to the main road. This place is out of sight of the sparse public that might wander past at this time of night, your vision is limited in the darkness it provides and there’s ample opportunity for an overhead ambush. 

All of this puts you at every disadvantage, perhaps, but that’s exactly what you want the man tailing you to think. You keep your eyes straight because Assassins like rooftops. They provide coverage and blindspots, hidden in plain sight as most people simply don’t find themselves looking up with their eyes to the sky as they go about their day and all the tasks that come with it. It’s precisely why you’ll always find an Assassin stalking you from above and never from upon your own level. 

In short, you’re baiting the Assassin above you who has gone to so much care to silence his footsteps and conceal his shadow from your sight. But you’re a Templar. You’re trained to know your enemy. You spotted him not long ago, lingering around a crowd outside an inn, trying to blend in. But your purpose for going out at all today has been to bait him, those are your orders. 

Your ears are kept vigilant for the sound of something small flying through the air and in a moment's notice, you lunge forward to dodge the rope dart that had been aimed at you. There’s a hissed curse and you draw your sword as the Assassin makes his leap down to you, using a ledge of a windowsill garden to lessen his fall. He stands tall in front of you now, white beaked hood up and hiding his face. His hidden blade shoots out as he parries your offensive blow with his gauntlet. 

You’re still not entirely sure what material it is that Assassins make their gauntlets from. Your mentor Haytham has one and he claims that it’s an alloy from a precursor civilization but when your higher-ups start talking like that, you sometimes begin to wonder if you’ve really overstepped your depth as an ex-mercenary and have accidentally joined a cult. 

Regardless, the Assassin stands tall before you now. He is Achilles’ new novice, so you’ve been told. The only member of his ranks as your mentor has told you of how a companion of his wiped out the last generation of Assassins here in the colonies, thus giving your Order ample room to plant its roots. Though you have no name nor face to put to this companion of Haytham’s as he is always very quick to change the subject or to remind you to not speak out of line whenever your curiosity gets the better of you and you start to press for details of this mysterious person’s identity if only to create an image in your mind for all of this information that you are given. 

His free hand takes out a tomahawk and you’re put on defence. You take a step back but make sure to stay in the alley and out of the public space. The last thing you want is nearby law enforcement or civilians to get involved. But the clashing of metal upon metal rings out in the otherwise quiet night. 

He fights cleanly using his sheer strength and towering figure which puts you at a disadvantage. His technique is curated to be quick and efficient but your style often depends on your agility, stamina and tiring out your enemy. You’ve already laid such a foundation by baiting him to follow you from the rooftops – a much more strenuous journey than the one you had taken upon the ground. But there was something to how he was swinging at you with his tomahawk, movements tight to not allow you to get too far, a passion to his every strike and parry. 

You know when you’re outmatched and so you’re now put on defence and wondering what could have happened between intel and being given your orders that could have possibly allowed you to go about this mission alone instead of preparing a sort of ambush in order to put an end to this lone Assassin that has been terrorising the Order once and for all. 

Had you let the higher-ups flatter you over your skills into thinking you were truly capable of this task they had set upon you? Regardless, you’re in this now and your only priority has suddenly become making it out of here alive. You take a risk and do a rescan of your surroundings, looking for anything that might be of aid to you in order to give you just a slither of an opportunity of getting away. But you remain aware of your enemy’s every move, knowing that even a momentary slip up can be the cause of your untimely demise.

But the Assassin trying to cut you down is just as trained as you are – if not more so – and this subtle scrambling of yours does not go unnoticed by his keen, dark eyes. 

“Out of your depth, Templar?” He asks in his smooth and rich tone. 

“You wish I were.” You bite back and manage to take swift steps backwards, enough for you to assess that the risk of lowering your sword in exchange for the gun at your hip is worth it in order to try and create a window for escape. You take aim but don’t fire. You should be firing. You should be killing this man. 

Why did they send you on this mission alone? 

It’s all you can think to yourself as your finger hovers over the trigger. The Assassin knows he’s done for if your finger so much as twitches now and yet he freezes, seeing your hesitation. The two of you are brought to a standstill with you aiming your gun at the Assassin’s head and yet your finger hovers over the trigger, refusing to squeeze. He has no opportunity to strike you down at this moment as in a fraction of a second, hesitation can become a killing blow. 

Your eyes narrow slightly as you repeat that question to yourself: why did they send you on this mission alone? This Assassin is clearly far more skilled than you are and even baiting him here after a journey that should have tired you out has not made a dent in his stamina. He’s been cutting down British soldiers and Templars alike, chipping away at the order for reasons not yet known to you other than the simple explanation of ‘we are Templars, he an Assassin’. Why did you believe your higher-ups when they told you that you could handle this solo mission? Have they sent you here as an execution and if so: why? 

“Why do they want you to kill me?” You murmur. The question is asked aloud and yet you’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. This seems to make even the Assassin pause in puzzlement. If they want you dead then what are they doing now? Are you merely a distraction? 

“That’s a good question indeed.” The toweringly tall Assassin raises his hands in a gesture of surrender and you slowly lower your gun but keep a good amount of distance between the two of you, each standing at either side of the narrow alley you had originally lured him into. You tap your toes against the ground as you ponder over questions again: is this a distraction or an execution? Either way you’re clearly expendable and it comes as a surprise to you because you were so sure you were in the Grandmaster’s good books. 

So what has changed to make Haytham use you as a sacrificial pawn in whatever game he’s playing here in the colonies? Neither of you are sure what to do now, having both arrived here late at night with intentions to kill the other. But now you see that the true plan behind all of this was for you to die all along. It’s enough to make Ratonhnhaké:ton stand down and wish to spare you. Someone is pulling the strings here and part of their plan includes your death. So what’s to happen when this plan is interrupted. 

“I won’t kill you today.” He speaks up after finally making up his mind following a few minutes of thick silence wherein you were both deep in thought, trying with your minds to uncover the obscurity of whatever the bigger picture is here. The best course of action is to disrupt the plans of whoever it is that’s painting it. “But when you fall it will be by my hand, Templar.” You shoot the man a glare where his eyes would be, concealed behind the shadow that the beak of his hood casts over his face in order to hide his identity. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Assassin.” You quip back but you hear him scoff as he puts his tomahawk away when you set your gun back into its holster. 

“You’re right. Your masters seem to be set on beating me to that.” You open your mouth to protest but he’s already making his way up the wall of one of the buildings you’re between and returning to the rooftops. You’re quick to exit the alley and get into the middle of the main street so that he doesn’t have an opportunity to assassinate you from above should he be bluffing or perhaps change his mind and deal with you now before you become a loose thread. But he doesn’t and you’re left standing in the middle of an empty street at night. 

Could you even go back to your quarters now? Perhaps they’ll use the failed mission as justification to finish you off themselves. You need somewhere to stay until you’ve figured out what’s going on and whether or not you’ve been betrayed by the Order that you had sworn your own loyalty to. But where to go? 

Your eyes rise up to the rooftops that the Assassin had disappeared over. You’ve been set up by the people who this man is set on killing. 

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend…” You murmur to yourself as you spot a nearby ladder and use it to make your way up onto the same rooftop. It’s a risk you’re taking but it seems that every path available to you now has some degree of risk to it and so you’re left with no choice but to weigh your options and gamble. 

Your foot taps anxiously against the cobble beneath you as you consider your plan. If your Order seeks to erase you, it won’t even be safe to go back to your rented room and pack a bag of your belongings. It’s the first place they’ll go to look for you and with the network of spies Haytham has been building across the city, it won’t take long for word to get back to him that you’ve failed your mission. You won’t get far hiding either. All of your tricks, you’ve learned from your mentor and to try and hide would be to put yourself at a disadvantage by playing the game of the man who had so clearly intended to use you as a pawn in whatever grand scheme he’s hatching; not so long ago, you had thought you knew his plans but tonight has changed your course of events entirely. 

Into the belly of the best it is. 

You decide. Now up on the roof, you look with your second sight. It’s your upper hand and even Haytham has admitted that it was one of his greatest factors in considering you as an advantageous candidate for a Templar. The route he’s taken lights up gold and you begin to follow all the twists and turns he took that would have thrown off anyone else who might have been tiling him. Not you though. 

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

You find yourself outside a manor upon a homestead. It wasn’t an easy journey by any means and you hadn’t expected him to have covered so much ground either. In the forest, you found yourself wishing you had stopped to hire a horse – you still had some money on you after all. You took a break twice, made a camp once after scouting out the area but you admittedly slept very lightly. You weren’t a wilderness girl and the anxiety of being found by a wolf or bear had kept you from falling into a truly restful sleep. 

And so you found yourself feeling both tired from a long way’s travel and a poor night’s rest during the small hours of the morning, all while heading right into the den of your enemy who, currently and ironically enough, seems to be your only possible ally. 

The manor standing tall in the clearing above you is built in typical colonial fashion with red bricks and white embellishments. Its large size makes use of the spacious land it is upon and your mind wanders back to the stories Haytham once shared with you about the Brotherhood that once lived and trained here. Looking at the size of the place, it’s easy to imagine so many people living here once upon a time and difficult to imagine that today it only houses the old Mentor and the one and only Assassin who still lives by their Creed here in the colonies. 

Though that’s only as much as your Order is aware of. You keep your wits about you, more than aware that you don’t know what you’re walking to, nor do you know how many potential foes reside within those four walls. You may very well be running from one death straight into another. 

But your options are slim and you’ve wagered that your odds are better here. Back with the Order, you’re a pawn that should have submissively been sacrificed. Here, you’re either a target to be taken out immediately or a valuable source of information. After all, you’ve been betrayed and they may consider that you have every reason to surrender all of the Order’s secrets that you possess. 

These are all just possibilities though and death remains a very likely outcome. 

You stand from an awkward distance on the treeline for a while. Surely you can’t just knock on the front door being who you are? Then again, if you take any other route, they might see it as an ambush and you’ll be in combat or even dead before you can open your mouth to explain your intentions. Despite every other instinct within you telling you to turn tail and run to the nearest harbour, to leave the region altogether on whatever boat you can get yourself aboard, you approach the front door. 

A shadow falls over you when you raise your fist to knock upon the door. He’s good at what he does, you’ll give him that. Immediately, you feel the warm, sharp edge of a blade resting against your throat. Warm and so it’s the hidden blade that the likes of him keep tucked up their sleeves, a blade like the one your mentor possessed. You’d always found it rather ironic that Haytham always stands so tall beside his principles and yet he fights with the enemy’s weapon. 

“Did you come here thinking you could finish the job and go crawling back to your master?” His voice speaks up from behind you. You raise both of your hands in the air in a sign of surrender, keeping them far away from your hips where your weapons are kept around your belt. He doesn’t hesitate in unbuckling it and removing it from your body and moments later, you hear it hit the floor some distance away where he’s thrown it. You’re not unarmed in enemy territory and you begin wondering if this really was the best plan of action after all. 

“I actually came with a proposal…” You begin slowly. You’re not entirely sure how to present yourself, your tone. Even you’re unsure if your own plan will work but you need to sound certain or else he may well believe you’re just here to trick him in which case he’ll kill you. 

You don’t need to turn around to know that he’s looming over you. You wonder sometimes how a man of his stature can blend into crowds and hide in plain sight the way Assassins are taught to. And yet he does and it’s truly a testament to his skill. 

“And what might this proposal be?” You swallow thickly. Your life depends on being able to convince him that you’re being honest, which he has every inclination to doubt considering your current standing as enemies.

“It’s been made clear that I’m seen as expendable, so I’d much rather prove just how essential I was. I have information: contacts, travel routes, locations of higher-ranking Templars. Whatever mission you’re on, I’ll speed it up by months, maybe even years.” You tilt your head back a little more, trying to ease the pressure when the blade presses more insistently at your skin. 

“And why should I believe you?” 

“Because I came here. Because I’ve got nowhere else to go at the moment and I’m risking you slashing my throat just for a chance to try and get out of this ordeal alive after what happened last night.” The blade leaves your neck but the threat is not removed as you then feel it poke at your back, spurring you forwards at a slow pace, hands still raised. 

“Step inside.” 

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

Months later, you find yourself setting up camp in a familiar cave. These meetings have become familiar to you and nowadays this little cave feels like the safest place in the world. You’ve been working as a double agent for the past few months and being in the Order feels like having death loom over your shoulder all the time now. Being a Templar had once given you such a feeling of purpose and belonging, that you had a key, unshakable place in the world, that you were guiding it in a better direction. 

But the more you’ve been reporting back to Connor and the chats you have in between, the more you have to take a step back and ask yourself if you were being told a one-sided story the entire time. You haven’t set foot on Connor’s homestead since you first arrived and he had to send you back with a split lip, gashed jaw and sprained wrist to make it seem like you really had fought him and not conspired with him. That gash now remains as a scar across the lower part of your face. Each time you look in the mirror, it reminds you of your new mission as the Assassin’s spy. 

And each time, you pray that you’re doing the right thing. 

Your attention is grabbed by the sound of feet on dirt and you look towards the mouth of the cave where he stands tall now, moving to sit on the opposite side of your little fire so that he’s facing you. His gloves come off and he rubs his hands together near the open flames. His hood comes down to reveal a face strikingly like your mentor’s and you can’t believe that this man is now your only ally in the world and you can’t even be entirely sure of his loyalty. All you know is that you need to keep yourself indispensable in order to keep breath in your lungs and a heartbeat in your chest. 

He reaches into his bag and takes out a small, wrapped package. Scaled fish. They’re skewered and set over the fire to cook.

“Thank you.” You say stiffly. Interactions like this are still so unusual to you. He nods his head in a silent ‘you’re welcome’. 

“What’s new?” 

“Lee’s on the move.” His dark eyes quickly flick up to meet yours and you can see the deep interest in them. You haven’t asked why he’s after Lee specifically though it confuses you as you would have been sure he would go after Haytham; to cut the head of the snake, so to speak. But you’ve never asked because this vendetta seems deeply personal and you’re next to certain that he won’t open up to you about it. “They’re making preparations to receive him in Boston so whatever he’s come back with must be important… or they know that you’re after him. I’ve yet to find out which it is because I don’t have direct access to such information and I can’t put myself at risk if this is a red herring and they suspect something. But the moment I find out more I’ll tell you – but take everything with a pinch of salt.” 

He nods, deep in thought and you wonder what’s going through his head. You always worry that doubt will creep into his mind and will ultimately drive him to kill you. You can only hope that he’s instead thinking about exacting whatever revenge he has planned for Charles Lee. His thirst for revenge currently is what’s keeping you afloat. Without his vendetta, you’re worthless to him. 

“How have you been?” You’re not sure if you’re asking out of politeness or loneliness. Are you trying to keep in his good graces or are you seeking out the warmth of a friend, even if what’s between you isn’t really friendship? 

“Busy…” He sighs. “Your Order’s been on the move.” 

“I’ve heard about your meetings with Washington.” You bite your lip as you ponder your next question. It’s personal but a chance not taken is an opportunity missed. “You… You’re meeting with all these generals, men of influence and yet you work in the shadows. Do you truly have no wish for the world to remember your name? You really want to just vanish?” You had been drawn to the Templars partially by glory, by the chance of making a place in the world, a change where you and your fellow members of the Order would be revered for centuries to come. 

“I do not want to be remembered, no. Our creed states that we work in the dark to serve the light. This war will be lost to memory and I will do my part to make sure that it is the Assassins who bury any record of it.” Your first reaction is to think of him as ridiculous: he’s thrown any chance at a normal life away for a battle he will never be credited for. But it’s selfless. He has nothing to gain but what he believes in: no fame, no power, no glory. 

Maybe you really have been misled. 

The Templars had always preached peace but with that peace came the Order having ultimate power over humanity, domination over free will. You had once focused so heavily on how that absolute control would stop war, would stop suffering. But at what cost? It must be a great one for this man in front of you to be throwing any semblance of a normal life away for it. 

“Tell me more about your Creed.” He turns over the fish and glances up at you once again, meeting your curious eyes. You’re sitting down with your legs curled up to your chest, arms wrapped around them with your hin propped on your knees. This isn’t smalltalk or you digging for information, it’s genuine interest. He hadn’t missed your pondering look before, that glint of unsurety in your eyes. 

“Alright…”

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

Weeks later and you meet again, having shared many more meetings in the meantime. You understand Ratonhnhaké:ton better now, you understand his creed. He seems different from his mentor that Haytham had told you about, so very different. He doesn’t meddle in the first civilisation that your mentor speaks of so frequently and you wonder if it’s for the best after the stories you had heard of while in the Order. Haytham speaks of them vaguely but you still have a comprehensive enough understanding. 

The more he speaks, the more you doubt your own order who wish to use these artefacts for their plans to shepard humanity towards its best self, the more you wonder if your superiors in the Order are just set on a path to repeat history. You’ve shared with him all the information you have now. You now feel like less of a double agent and more of a spy – having to give away anything about the Assassin you’ve come to secretly think of as a friend feels like a betrayal, even if it’s only for the sake of protecting your ulterior motives for having returned to the Order at all after that night you first encountered Rathonhnhaké:ton for yourself. 

He’s been more open with you too. Haytham is his father – something which both made sense, looking at his face, and shocked you, considering he is an Assassin and his father a Templar. Charles Lee, at Haytham’s command, had burned his village to the ground as a child, killing his mother. You empathise with that deeply. You had joined the Order knowing that you had no family of your own to lose should things get messy. It seems that the two of you are in the same boat for that one. 

Now, he’s picking out the bones from your fish while you prepare some water to boil over the fire. But time has moved on and winter draws near, bringing a chill into this little cave that feels like it’s become your one and only sanctuary in the world. You hold your open palms near the fire and try to chase away the chill but it does you very little good. 

Connor watches you for a moment before he removes his gloves and hands them to you. As he holds them out silently, those well-worn gloves appear like an olive branch to you. This really is for the best, you think. More and more, you’ve come to realise that you were misled by your Order. You were promised to be a harbinger, to be one of the names that would live on forever as a part of the order who had saved humanity. But you were a pawn all along. Even despite your special abilities, Haytham had been more than willing to sacrifice you for whatever gain. You might have a little more value in his eyes now that you’ve ‘proven’ you can take on the Assassin and get away with your life but you’ve seen your old mentor, you’ve heard how he talks of the first civilisation. He’ll stop at nothing and you’re more than sure that should he see another opportunity where your sacrifice and earn great gain for him and his plans, he’ll send you walking straight into the arms of death all over again. 

You take the gloves and slide them on over your hands. 

“Thank you.” You offer a smile but you hold back just how happy this small gesture makes you. They’re far too big but they’re soft and warm. They’re clearly broken in, the fingertips especially worn down from what you can only assume is all the climbing he does in stalking around with the stealth of his kind. But it’s the fact he’s given them to you at all that touches your heart. 

The two of you eat, drink, you share intel and it becomes late enough that you wrap yourself tightly in a thick blanket and curl up on your bedroll beside the campfire. The cave provides enough shelter to keep out the bitter wind but the temperature has still dropped drastically with the change of seasons. You sit up to wrap your blanket around your feet better and you find yourself wishing you had brought another pair of socks or, better yet, a warmer pair. You then lay back down, curled in on yourself to try and gather as much insulation as possible, and close your eyes to try and sleep. But the cold instead bites at your ears and so you pull your blanket up over the back of your head like a hood and shuffle a little closer to the fire so that your nose is warmed by the flame. 

You hear shuffling around you and crack an eye open to see that Rathonhnaké:ton has moved. He’s no longer laid on his bedroll on the opposite side of the fire but has instead moved it right next to yours behind where you’re curled up on your side. 

“I thought you’d be used to camping by now.” He murmurs and you can hear him lay down beside you, so close that you can feel the heat from his body. 

“Not during the winter, I’m not.” You mumble into your blanket which you’ve pulled up by your mouth so that your breath can warm your face. You feel the weight of his arm lay over your waist and he then presses his chest to your back. You can feel the warmth of his breath over your neck, heating the blanket that’s tucked over the back of your head. You stiffen for a moment, surprised by his willingness to be close to you. 

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and you lean into his warmth. How long has it been since anyone held you like this? It’s wonderful and overwhelming and suddenly there’s no more winter, nothing outside of this little cave where you’ve been setting up camp to meet for almost a year now. 

“Thank you…” You say quietly. Whether for the warmth, or the touch, or for the new path he’s opened to you that you’ve set your life upon now, you’re unsure. 

“There’s no need to thank me.” He replies just as quietly. The two of you lay there for a long time and your heart doesn’t slow, beating like a rabbit’s. He’s so close and you hadn’t expected such a thing to be so exhilarating. Rathonhnaké:ton is a toweringly tall man and you’ve always viewed it as an advantage for when he needs to intimidate. But now, you feel safer than you’ve known since that night of your first encounter when your illusion about the Knights Templar was shattered. 

After a while, you can’t take it anymore and you turn around just enough to be able to look at him over your shoulder. Your faces are very close and you can feel his breath fan across your lips. When you look to meet his eyes, he does the same as he had previously been looking at your mouth. 

“Feeling warmer?” He asks, his voice a rumbling murmur. You give the slightest little nod and your eyes very obviously glance at his pillowy lips again. You don’t try to hide it and nor does he miss it. You’re unsure which of you leans in first – perhaps it had been the both of you, little by little, while you were both preoccupied in imagining how it might be to press your lips to the other’s – but he’s warm and the touch of his lips against yours fills you with a bubbling heat. You turn your body to face him and he pulls you closer by your waist, thumb pressing into you through your clothes and stroking over your body while your lips press and meet again and again. One of your hands goes up to cup his face, feeling his chiselled jaw and cheekbones, then your fingers slide into his silken hair and tangle gently into it when your tongue slides against his. 

You pull away for air for a moment but it’s short lived as his teeth pull gently at your bottom lip and his mouth then grazes against your chin and traces the curve of your jaw in kisses. The cold that had previously bothered you is completely forgotten about and he tugs the collar of your layers of clothing aside so that he can kiss against the pulse of your throat. Your hands find his chest and press to try and feel the contours of his body through his clothing but all the buttons and straps get in your way. Your fingers start working to undo buttons before you realise how caught up you’ve got and you pull away for a moment. 

“Is this ok?” He gives a small nod and leans in to kiss you again as you remove his clothes. You leave his shirt and jackets open, revealing scarred, bronze skin to you. His body is shaped like an ancient statue of legendary heroes. You can’t help but take the opportunity to rove your palms over each contour and feel him in his beauty. 

His large hands slide down to your hips and pull you a little closer. To accommodate him, you move to straddle one of his muscular thighs. He lifts it just enough to press against you and feels a deep stirring below his belt when your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan.

You had never imagined you would find yourself in this position with Rathonhnaké:ton and yet now that you’re here together, it feels so right. It feels like you really have grown close enough to be like this, like stars in their orbit being pulled to one another. His mouth is on yours again in an instant while he presses his thigh between your legs and he starts to pull at your belt to remove the clothing on your lower half. You help him by tugging off your boots between messy kisses. Once your pants are off and your lower half is bare, you shiver as the chill begins to creep over your bare skin. Connor simply pulls you closer and wraps the blanket firmly around your body while you straddle his lap, taking care to tuck it under your legs in an attempt to keep in as much warmth as possible. 

His fingers dance their way down to your mound where he can already feel the intense heat radiating from you. 

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks as his mouth moves to press wet kisses beneath your ear, breathing over the sensitive spot and making you shiver as a result. You nod your head and unintentionally let a needy sound slip past your lips. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s fingers glide through your slick folds and he lets out a little breath of wonder at the feeling of touching you in such an intimate place. Experimentally, he pushes one finger inside of you and watches how your spine arches and your body then bows to lean against him. He pushes it as far as he can go and begins moving it in and out. Letting your bodies take over, allowing words to become of little importance, you begin to grind your hips against his hand so that the heel of his palm catches your clit in a sensation that feels like a delicious burn. He adds another finger and you tug at his pants until his length, thick and heavy in your hand, is freed. You gently squeeze and hear how he sucks in a hiss through his teeth. You then begin to massage up and down, matching the pace of your hips moving to meet his fingers as they draw out soft, wet squelches from your pussy. You swipe over the slit at his tip with your thumb and hear how it makes him groan lowly. You glance down to see a little pool of your arousal gathering in the dip of his palm and decide that enough is enough.

You raise your hips up until his fingers slip out of you entirely. You then remove your hands from him and loop your arms loosely around his neck instead. He understands your intentions clearly and strokes himself a few times, covering his length in the slick from your pussy. You bring your hips back down and he guides himself into you. You’re quick to press your mouth to his in another messy kiss in order to muffle the moan you let out upon feeling the stretch of him pushing into you. You pause shakily along the way, deciding you can take all of him once you’re a little more adjusted, and start to ride. 

Connor’s large hands slide beneath your ass to grab at the soft flesh that spills between his fingers and he uses his hold to support you in moving up and down, holding a lot of your weight with his strength. As you continue to move your hips rhythmically, one of his hands leaves your rear in favour of pulling at the buttons and ties that keep your chest hidden. Once it’s revealed, he lets out an appreciative groan of approval and his mouth latches onto one of your breasts as he pulls you closer and you ride him. Your head tips back to the ceiling of the cave and you pant as the wind whistles outside, joining with the crackling of the fire, the shift of the fabric of your clothing and blanket and the slick sounds of his cock filling you up over and over. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton is big and consequently manages to hit all the right spots at once as he fills you again and again, your hips angled just right for him to brush against the places that have you curling your cold toes. His mouth slathers your breasts in kisses, pausing to nip or suck at your plush flesh and he works your blood into a feverish heat. The two of you pant for breath, moans and groans echoing off the stone walls. 

After a while, his arms wrap around your waist as he lays back, bringing him with you. He kisses you firmly as he brings his knees up and you almost feel the breath get knocked from your lungs when he begins thrusting up into you. You rest your head on his shoulder as he pounds up into your sensitive pussy and your sensitive, teased nipples brush against his chest as your body shakes and wavers with his movements. 

A pressure builds in your abdomen, growing tighter and more intense until your whole body is flooded in pleasure, walls squeezing tightly around his cock as though begging him to come with you. And you’re successful in sending him over the edge, hearing him moan, the whimper in his tone as he releases into you and holds you close as the two of you catch your breaths. 

But then the cold starts to kick in again. He carefully lifts you so that his softening cock slips out of your messy pussy. You watch as he searches his pockets and takes out a handkerchief which he begins to clean your inner thighs with. He looks to you as if asking if you’re comfortable with him looking after you like this but he finds your head tilted back, eyes closed as your legs twitch at having him touch your sensitive folds to clean you up. He helps you redress and dresses himself before helping you into his coat and throwing some more wood onto the fire, wrapping the blanket around the both of you again. 

Once more, you snuggle into his chest for warmth and neither of you are quite sure what to say, hoping the words will just come to you in the morning. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton presses a kiss to your forehead and holds you a little tighter as he closes his eyes, listening to his own pounding heart, the crackle of the fire and the whining wind outside. 

He decides to make sure that the Templars won’t ever have an opportunity to sacrifice your life again. 

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[whencyclopedia]

Blitzkrieg

Blitzkrieg ('lightning war') is a military tactic combining air and land forces deployed at speed against the enemy's weaker points while the rear lines are simultaneously disrupted by acts of sabotage and bombing. Speed, concentration, and surprise are designed to psychologically overwhelm the enemy, wreck its command structure, and cause a total collapse without having to completely destroy the enemy.

Blitzkrieg was developed from earlier tactics in the 19th century, where armed forces such as artillery and cavalry were used in concentration and deployed at pace, but the first successful use with mechanised weapons was by the German armed forces during the Spanish Civil War (1936-39) and, on a much larger scale, in the first years of the Second World War (1939-45). The tactic continues to be employed in modern warfare.

Origins

The Prussian general Carl von Clausewitz (1780-1831) is often credited with pioneering the idea of Blitzkrieg in his book On War, published posthumously in 1832. The army of Prussia deployed forces in concentration and with an emphasis on speed during the Napoleonic Wars (1803-15). Clausewitz also emphasised the importance of launching attacks on enemy forces which, through sheer power of numbers, speed, and surprise, would negatively affect them in psychological terms. Another advantage of the tactic is that it can be used by relatively small armies, such as Prussia's of that period, to counterbalance an enemy's numerical advantage.

A further development came in the 1920s with the ideas of the commander of the German Army, General Hans von Seeckt (1866-1936). Seeckt led an army which was then limited in size (100,000 men) by the Treaty of Versailles, which had formally concluded the First World War (1939-45). To overcome a size disadvantage compared to other European armies, Seeckt emphasised speed and mobility in field tactics, even if Germany was forbidden to possess both tanks and aircraft for military purposes. To get around the restriction, Seeckt used mock-ups and sent units to the USSR for secret training. The idea of using combined arms, that is, mobile infantry, armoured vehicles, mobile artillery, and aircraft in such a way that disrupted and penetrated enemy lines was not unique to Germany as it was also endorsed by such military strategists in Britain as Major-General J. F. C. Fuller (1878-1966) and Basil Liddell Hart (1895-1970). It was the German Army, though, that would be the first to use the Blitzkrieg tactics in practice.

Hans von Seeckt

Musvage (CC BY-SA)

The term Blitzkrieg, meaning 'lightning war' because of the emphasis on speed, "has been attributed to Hitler, and was probably coined for intimidation purposes" (Dear, 109). The historian A. Gilbert suggests that Adolf Hitler (1889-1945), the leader of Nazi Germany, first used the term Blitzkrieg in a political speech in 1935. Hitler was intent on expanding German-controlled territory. The Blitzkrieg tactic perfectly suited Germany's armed forces, which were smaller than some of its rivals in numbers in 1939 but much more modern in terms of equipment. Technology such as radios (including inside tanks) and telephone lines, which could be quickly laid in new areas, allowed commanders to maintain contact with their forward troops or even to personally join those forward units while still being able to direct the rest of the army. The training of German officers emphasised independent decision-making, which also helped increase the speed of troop movements in the field since orders could be adapted to the needs of the situation at hand.

The commanders of the French Army, in contrast to all this mobility, were still disposed to emphasise static defences such as the Maginot Line. Tanks were part of the French Army, but these were deployed as a backup to the static defences and were not part of aggressive, attack-focussed tactics. In many ways, the French and British commanders were still sitting on their laurels of victory from WWI. In that war, trench battles had been typical. WWI was a conflict of attrition, that is, the aim was to use superior numbers to wear down an enemy by eliminating its soldiers at a rate faster than one lost one's own troops. Blitzkrieg, on the other hand, had an entirely different objective, as here explained by the historian B. Pitt:

The basic principle behind the Blitzkrieg technique is that it is simpler, easier, and cheaper to reduce the strength of an enemy army by starvation (cutting off its supplies) or by paralysis (destroying its High Command or cutting its communication and control lines) than by battering it to a bloody pulp.

(Liddell Hart, 19-20)

Continue reading...

[capybaracorn]

Israel bombs yet another Gaza camp it had declared a safe zone

Officials say many bodies were ‘charred’ after the strikes triggered a fire that ripped through the camp in Rafah.

Palestinians look at the destruction caused by Israeli attacks on tents for the displaced people living near the United Nations agency for Palestinian refugees (UNRWA) warehouses in Rafah. [Ali Jadallah/Anadolu]

(27th of May 2024)

The Palestinian Civil Defence in Gaza says the death toll from an overnight Israeli attack on the tents of displaced Palestinians in Rafah has risen to 45 as the attack sparks condemnation across the Arab and Western world.

In scenes grimly familiar from a war in its eighth month, Palestinian families on Monday rushed to hospitals to prepare their dead for burial after the Sunday night attack set tents and rickety shelters ablaze. Women wept as men held prayers beside bodies in shrouds.

“The whole world is witnessing Rafah getting burned up by Israel and no one is doing anything to stop it,” Bassam, a Rafah resident, said via a chat app, of the attack in an area of western Rafah that had been designated a safe zone.

The attack took place in the Tal As-Sultan neighbourhood, where thousands were sheltering after Israeli forces began a ground offensive in the east of Rafah more than two weeks ago.

Many of the dead were women and children, the health officials said, adding that the death toll was likely to rise as some injured people with severe burns were in critical condition.

Israel has kept up attacks on Rafah despite a ruling by the top United Nations court on Friday ordering it to stop, arguing that it grants it some scope for military action there.

The Israeli army said the air raids that came hours after rockets were fired towards Tel Aviv killed two senior Hamas operatives, and that it was investigating the reports of civilians killed in Rafah.

Gaza’s Civil Defence said many bodies were “charred” after the attack caused a fire that ripped through the camp. The International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) said one of its field hospitals received an “influx of casualties seeking care for injuries and burns” and that “our teams are doing their best to save lives”.

The Israeli attack led to strong protests from Egypt, Qatar, Jordan and Kuwait, which warned it could “hinder” budding steps to revive stalled ceasefire talks.

People walk near the bodies of Palestinians killed in an Israeli air raid on an area designated for displaced people in Rafah. [Mohammed Salem/Reuters]

Mourners sit with the bodies of Palestinians killed in the Israeli attack on the Rafah camp. [Mohammed Salem/Reuters]

Israel's army said the air raids late on Sunday killed two senior Hamas operatives and that it was investigating the reports of civilian deaths. [Ali Jadallah/Anadolu]

Children look into a vehicle carrying the bodies of Palestinians killed in the attack. [Mohammed Salem/Reuters]

The attack led to strong protests from Egypt, Jordan, Kuwait and Qatar, which warned it could 'hinder' budding steps to revive stalled truce talks. [Ashraf Amra/Anadolu]

Gaza's civil defence agency said on Monday that many bodies were 'charred' after the air raids triggered a fire that ripped through the displacement centre in Rafah. [Ashraf Amra/Anadolu]

The air raids were reported hours after Hamas fired a barrage of rockets from Gaza that set off sirens as far away as Tel Aviv for the first time in months in a show of resilience more than seven months into Israel's massive air, sea and ground attacks. [Ali Jadallah/Anadolu]

Palestinians look at the destruction caused by the attacks on the tents of displaced people in Rafah. [Ali Jadallah/Anadolu]

[beardedmrbean]

(The trump pic made me laugh so I had to include it)

Robbie there is just right on the edge of getting it, at least he seems to know that this is something that took place.

The reason they're telling his story, if it is based on him, is because why not tell his story, we've got 1000 pieces of media about

This is a article from 2010 about the guy robbie mentions there.

As London suffered the full force of the German Luftwaffe bombing raids 70 years ago this week the story of Nigerian Ita Ekpenyon has been uncovered by the City of Westminster Archives.

The blitz and the response of Londoners is now the stuff of legend and the story of Ita demonstrates that integrity, responsibility commitment and sacrifice are not qualities confined to the English.

Ita Ekpenyon is the personification of London’s Blitz spirit and he along with over 15.000 Africans living in London at the time are for the first time being recognised and their bravery acknowledged.

Ita Ekpenyon was one of over 200,000 Londoners who volunteered as Air Raid Protection (ARP) wardens.

Black British experiences from the Blitz, is now being told by City of Westminster Archives in a new project funded by the Heritage Lottery Fund.

Ita arrived in London from Nigeria in 1921 at the age of 28. When war broke out in 1939 he was living at 146 Great Titchfield Street, near Oxford Circus, and studying to become a lawyer.

At 46, Ita was too old for military service but his sense of civic duty led him to volunteer for civilian defence duties. On 5 February 1940, Ita was enrolled as an ARP Warden with D Section, St Marylebone Borough Council Civil Defence Volunteer group. According to his unit’s records, he experienced raid after raid, putting out incendiary bomb fires, giving first aid and conducting population counts as the bombs fell all over the capital. ______________________________________

Sounds like a story that's begging to be told to me right there, kinda wish that was what it is about, looks to be more than that though. _________________________________________

George, McQueen’s child protagonist, was inspired by a picture the filmmaker came across while researching his television series Small Axe, which showed a small black boy being evacuated from the city. On his journey back home to his mother after being evacuated, George discovers much about his city – and himself.

A key scene shows George wandering through the old Islington Empire Arcade, encountering dioramas and murals of black workers, ever under the control of their white colonial masters. There he meets Isey, a Nigerian air raid warden, who cares for him and finds him a space in a shelter.

The shelter shows the diversity of blitzed London that was captured by the photographer Bill Brandt: Jewish families, Sikh families and white families crammed together in the squalor of the makeshift shelters below the city in the first weeks of air raids. When a white couple try to segregate the shelter by race, Isey reprimands them, reminding them that they are all fighting Hitler and the Nazi belief in a race war.

Blitz deserves to find a large audience. Not just because it retells a familiar story in a new way and gives voice to those whose stories are often overlooked, but because of what it has to say about who those blitzed Londoners, so central to British memory of the war, actually were.

In imagining the story of that small boy in the photo, McQueen helps us to re-imagine not just the blitz, but wartime Britain more widely. His sprawling, dramatic film reminds us that this is a shared history, one with meaning for many more people today than we might usually remember. ____________________________________

Aside what ever current year stuff they shoehorn in this seems like a good concept for a film.

And as for the answer to the question of "why" I'll say it's because it's the film the filmmaker wanted to make if you don't want to watch it then don't if you'd like a different story told then tell it yourself. _____________________

Here's some more about Contributions by Black Britons during the Blitz, because apparently some people didn't think they existed or contributed, or aren't worth mentioning or something.

For Black History Month historian Stephen Bourne tells us about some of the Black people involved in the fire service in the 1930s and 40s.

And I'll end with, the Steve McQueen making this movie is a totally different one than the one that died in 1980, in case there was any questions about that.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"A.R.P. Activities Demonstrated by Sandwich East C.D.C.," Windsor Star. July 22, 1943. Page 3. --- SANDWICH EAST Civilian Defence Committee last night gave demonstrations of A.R.P. activities, at an exhibition in Walker Homesites. In the upper left photograph, Sergeant Frank Ednie, 1536 Lincoln road, left, and Superintendent Richard Gooch, 1061 Walker road, centre, are shown checking the bandages on a "patient," Pat Smith, of 1234 Bliss road. Members of the firefighters group are shown at the right at work operating an auxiliary pump. Left to right in the photograph are Messrs. B. A. Sullivan, 1150 Turner road: Wilf Corneil, 1302 Riberdy road; N. H. Walford, 1226 Turner road, and Russell Black, 1151 Turner road. Mr. Black is chief of the firefighters' group, one of the largest and most active in the district.

[mosabeldali]

Israeli air strikes on a so-called "humanitarian zone" in southern Gaza's al-Mawasi killed at least 40 people on Tuesday, according to health authorities in the enclave.

Here's what we know so far:

• The strikes targeted at least 20 tents sheltering displaced Palestinians

• Footage from the direct aftermath showed Palestinians desperately digging for their loved ones in the deep craters, with the civil defence saying "entire families" had "disappeared" in the sand

• Eyewitnesses told AFP that at least five rockets fell in the area, with emergency services saying the strikes created craters up to nine metres deep

• The Israeli army said it attacked a Hamas command centre

"disguised in the humanitarian area in Khan Younis" and that "many steps were taken to reduce the chance of harming civilians, including the use of precision weaponry, aerial surveillance and additional intelligence information". It did not share any evidence to back up its claim

• Hamas denied these allegations, saying "the claims of the fascist occupation army about the presence of resistance elements at the targeted site are a blatant lie".

• Gaza's civil defence search-and-rescue organisation said that the Israeli army used "heavy concussion missiles" and estimated that it was "one of the most horrific massacres since the beginning of the Israeli war on Gaza"

‼️‏Your help, no matter how small, could be the turning point for my family. Join me in rebuilding our lives ‼️

Vatted by : @moayesh @el-shab-hussein @nabulsi

[allthegeopolitics]

At least two people have been killed and eleven injured by an Israeli strike in the Zeitoun neighbourhood of Gaza City, the Palestinian civil defence is reporting.  Earlier in the day, Israeli air strikes hit a home in Nuseirat camp in central Gaza killing at least one person, according to the Palestinian civil defence. [...]

Continue Reading.

[magz]

Aggregate news of Palestine For April 21, 2024.

Aljazeera News:

Videos show widespread damage from Israel’s deadly West Bank raids.

Blurb:

Israeli forces have killed more than a dozen Palestinians during a three-day raid on the Nur Shams refugee camp, which has left the occupied West Bank city of Tulkarem in ruins. (Video embedded in article)

Nearly 200 bodies found in mass grave at hospital in Gaza’s Khan Younis

Excerpt:

Palestinian civil defence crews have uncovered a mass grave inside the Nasser Medical Complex in Gaza’s Khan Younis, with 180 bodies recovered so far, Al Jazeera has learned, as Israel has continued bombardment of the devastated coastal enclave for more than six months.

[...]

In a statement late on Saturday, Palestinian emergency services said: “Our teams continue their search and retrieval operations for the remaining martyrs in the coming days as there are still a significant number of them.”

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Israel’s war on Gaza has killed more than 34,000 Palestinians, according to local health officials, devastated Gaza’s two largest cities and left a swath of destruction across the territory.

At least two-thirds of the casualties are children and women. It also says the real toll is likely higher as many bodies are stuck beneath the rubble left by air strikes or are in areas that are unreachable for medics.

Eye on Palestine:

[Image from video, Many Palestinians holding covered dead bodies during a packed open-air funeral]

The funeral of the Palestinians who were killed by the occupation forces in Nour Shams camp in Tulkarm. (HishamAbuShadrah from instagram, reposted on Eye On Palestine)

[Image of building on fire, from video]

Israeli settlers attacked the village of Burqa, east Ramallah.

مستوطنون يهاجمون قرية برقة شرق رام الله

(From Eye on Palestine)

CNN:

Israel concludes deadly West Bank raid as war devastates Gaza.

Summary blurb:

The US House of Representatives has approved $26.4 billion in aid to Israel, as part of a wider package of foreign aid, which still needs to pass the Senate.

The Israeli military concluded one of its largest offensives in the occupied West Bank since October 7 on Sunday, saying it killed 10 "terrorists." The Palestinian health ministry and Wafa news agency said 14 people, including a child, were killed in the raid, which left a path of destruction.

Elsewhere in the West Bank, Israeli settlers killed an ambulance driver trying to transport Palestinians who had been attacked, according to the Palestine Red Crescent Society. A spike in violence by extremist settlers in the occupied territory has led to more sanctions by the US and EU.

Strikes between Israel and Iran this month spiked fears of a widening regional conflict in the Middle East, but the two sides appear to be stepping back for now.

[good-old-gossip]

Israeli Terrorism in Gaza

Aid workers from Al-Khair Foundation targeted in a distribution point where they were preparing to distribute aid in Khan Younis.

Al-Khair Foundation has been working in the Gaza Strip since day one trying to provide people with food assistance, and with a lot of other commodities, and we lost another four aid workers today.

Al-Khair Foundation is a British foundation and it’s operating from Istanbul, and they have a lot of aid workers here in Gaza.

This is not the first time that Israeli forces have targeted aid workers, they already targeted the World Central Kitchen in April.

So aid workers, journalists, paramedics civil defence teams, everyone is a target in Gaza.

Staff of foreign aid organisation killed in Israeli bombing of Gaza Al Jazeera’s correspondents in the Gaza Strip, citing medical sources, report that four staffers of a UK relief organisation, named Al-Khair, were killed when the Israeli army bombed a warehouse in al-Mawasi, west of Khan Younis in the south.

“I found your grave, my beloved son.”

A mother from Gaza mourned the loss of her son, who was killed by an Israeli air strike, after finding his grave on Friday.

She had searched for her son’s grave after the Israeli army withdrew from the industrial area in Gaza City, where the army bulldozed some of the graves in the area.

“Thank god we didn’t die.” Rahaf, a young girl from Gaza, survived an Israeli air strike on Thursday.

The Palestinian health ministry said on Friday that at least 32 Palestinians were killed by Israeli strikes across Gaza, adding that the majority of victims were women and children.

Israel is continuing its bombardment of Gaza City as it declares an end to its “operation” in the eastern Shujaiya district, which saw Gaza City’s heaviest attack in months.

On Wednesday, Palestinians mourned family and relatives who were killed by an Israeli strike on a school in Khan Younis the day before.

This was the fourth school bombing in Gaza in four days. Palestinian sources said at least 29 people were killed in the strike on the school that was being used to shelter displaced people in Gaza.