EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY
The summer has passed, my writing bones are rested and it’s time to get back to stories of flying and courage in the Second World War. It’s time to lap the laptop, open up my folder of random images collected this summer, and tell a story of stories. The Second World War, in its size, its duration, its breadth, its violence, and its madness is, for most of us, a most difficult subject to fully grasp. For me, the trauma we call the Second World War is not about the politics of alliance, the cult of dictators, the strategies of generals or the division of heroes and villains, winners and losers. It is about human beings caught in a Tilt-a-whirl of extreme violence and sorrow. It is about small stories. Ordinary people. Emotions.
I remember years ago seeing a hologram on a sheet of glass and then seeing that sheet shattered on the ground in a demonstration. You could pick up any shard of that broken glass and hold it up to your eye. No matter what shape or size of the piece that you held in your hand, in it you could see the entire hologram unbroken. Like those broken slivers of holographic glass, these photos are like windows that open on the maelstrom, and though each is entirely different, through them, we can glimpse the war. That’s what these and the millions upon millions of other photographs of the war are to me—portals through which we peer, like voyeurs, to see what our minds can’t grasp.
“Every picture tells a story” said Rod Stewart and here’s the proof. Each of the following photographs, when looked at closely and researched only just a little, can release its secrets—secrets that are longing to be set free. They have been randomly collected during research periods and are randomly presented here, each drawing us in, each with a tiny fragment of the story to tell. In several cases, wanting to learn more about the event being portrayed, I searched for another photo to help tell the tale.
Let’s, as I always say, let the photos do the talking.