Did the Arctic convoys actually do any good? A t this time of year, as a military historian I am frequently asked about wartime winters. They are the most difficult time for service personnel, far from the families and battling with the elements as well as their enemies.
This year, those in Syria are celebrating the unexpected present of the departure of the Putin-supported murderous Assad regime, though we have yet to discover whether its replacement will be more tolerant. Brave Georgians, out on their freezing streets each night in Tbilsi, frequently pummelled by riot police, are hoping winter brings the downfall of the pro-Moscow Georgian Dream government , and its anti-Western leader Mikheil Kavelashvili, whom the outgoing pro-EU and NATO president, Salome Zourabichvili, refuses to recognise.
Romanians pray for a better result after the annulment of their recent presidential elections, which the Constitutional Court deemed were dominated by Russian cyber activities. Stoic Ukrainians soldier on, under fire in their trenches and streets from Kremlin drone, missile and rocket attacks, wishing the season will bring better news than of late and that outside interference will not force them into a peace deal they do not want.
I salute them all. Each will re-emerge in the spring to battle anew with the long arm of the Kremlin , and it is easy to see linguistically how Mar tius , god of conflict, seen by the Romans as the first month of the year , and marking the time of a return to farming and military campaigning, soon became Mar s, Mar zo, Maart, Mar ts , or our own Mar ch. However, when the barometer plummets and the ground hardens and glistens, my mind often dwells on an immature nineteen-year-old from Inverness who had just received his call up papers and was drafted into the Royal Navy.
In his pace of life changed dramatically when he transferred to Royalist , a 7 ,ton Dido-class light cruiser. Immediately, with 5 30 others, he was pitched into the fear, turmoil and exhaustion of escorting two Murmansk-bound Arctic convoys. Ten years later, after winning a short story competition in a local newspaper, to lift himself out of poverty he penned HMS Ulysses , the once-read, never-forgotten novel of a light cruiser on the Murmansk run.
