Criminals, Detectives, And French Jewels

 

Hunt Continues For Missing Jewels After Brazen Theft From The Louvre

Paris (Reuters) The strange case of the Louvre jewel theft in October continues to captivate the world, even with four suspects in custody. Several pieces stolen in the brazen theft, done in less than ten minutes by a group of thieves using a cherry picker lift from outside, are still missing. Security at the famous Paris museum is being raked over the coals for the inept response. And the greatest law enforcement officials in France continue to work the case. 

On October 19th, thieves used a cherry picker machine to intrude into the Louvre in broad daylight by breaking a window and making off with multiple crown jewels held in the museum. An estimated haul of 102 million remains unaccounted for, after one item, the crown of Eugenie, was dropped during the escape. It was all done within minutes. The group fled on scooters from the scene, enraging the country's populace. The cherry picker had been stolen several days prior to the theft.

Prosecutors believe the four arrested individuals to be petty crooks and not professionals tied to organized crime. They do note that petty crooks are becoming more daring in their acts, as this highlights. "It is an embarrassment to the country as a whole," one said under anonymity. "The Louvre is a jewel among museums of the world, and for this nonsense to happen... it is unthinkable. This sort of thing makes you want to bring back the guillotine."

Police continue to hunt for additional suspects, and the remaining jewels have not yet been found. Unlikely suspects have been named and dismissed. The security team at the Louvre is being questioned for any involvement, as well as their own ineptitude in the matter. Interpol is keeping an eye on unscrupulous dealers who might think that they have a chance of moving the jewels to unscrupulous customers. And one of France's greatest detectives is leading the response to the case. "We will find them wherever they may hide, let me assure of you of that," he told reporters outside the Louvre. "They think they are clever, and they may be, but they are not so clever as Inspector..."

"Clouseau!" came a voice from across the street, as loud as could be.

"That is not my name, monsieur!" Chief Inspector Charles Aznavour cheerfully called back.

Some in the media have suggested the involvement of Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon, who is known for an incident at the Louvre years ago, among several others. Langdon has been known to get involved in pot boiler plots that make him initially appear guilty before being proved innocent after unravelling byzantine schemes and secrets linked to art. He also bears a striking resemblance to actor Tom Hanks. Langdon denied being anywhere near Paris. "It's been six months since I've been in Europe," Langdon told reporters in a conference call. "I've been working on my latest book, which explores the hidden secrets in the painting American Gothic, by Grant Wood."

Regardless, French authorities are eager to arrest anyone else involved in the theft, especially if they hang around with Daniel Ocean. These are cultural treasures, after all, and must be recovered. Fears of their disappearing into anonymous vaults forever are out there, but police are determined to find the suspects. Aznavour, after having words with the heckler who compared him to a bumbling film detective played by Peter Sellers, said as much to the press. "They are running out of time. They cannot hide, for the strong eyes of the law are searching for them. And if they should attempt to cross the ocean, we have friends in Interpol over there who will intercept them." 

One of those friends is the legendary Mountie, Canadian RCMP Inspector Lars Ulrich, often mistaken for the Metallica drummer of the same name, even though they look nothing alike. Ulrich is fresh off an epic five hundred kilometre chase of Mad Jack Munro, who in the space of three months robbed sixteen banks through the Canadian west until being brought down by the fearsome lawman, who threw him into Dead Man's Canyon before arresting him. Ulrich was reached at his detachment in the Alberta foothills. "If they need my help, I'll give it," Ulrich said. "But I know Inspector Aznavour. He's the best they've got. Even if people keep mistaking him for a dead singer."

Does One Bring A Steel Chair To The Oval Office?

Washed Up Sports Entertainment Star Announces Candidacy, Does The World One Favour

Los Angeles (AP). It is already a crowded field in the Republican presidential nominee list, filled with nary a sign of rational thinkers and too many blowhards. It’s become a circus, with Donald Trump blustering around, feeding his ego and starting fights with literally everyone. The duo nominees of Sarah Palin and Michele Bachmann have been crisscrossing the country, making fools of themselves at every turn, preaching their vision of an America united in “God fearin’ gun totin’ apple pie lovin’ commie kickin’ ‘Mericans, you betcha!’, which is actually their campaign slogan, punctuation and all.

Now the field has been joined again by a new act to the circus, one who has had something of a rough ride as of late. Surprisingly, who it was hadn’t leaked out earlier to the press, as is often the case in political announcements. It was known that another candidate was, in fact, elsewhere in the location where this press conference was to be held, but that campaign confirmed they had no idea who was involved. And so it was that a multitude of reporters were gathered at the Los Angeles Convention Center for the announcement, but as to who would be making an announcement, that was still a mystery. Was Bob Dole making a comeback? Or Dan Quayle, with Candice Bergen as his running mate? That second one was considered a long shot indeed, and perhaps too vague a cultural reference for those who didn’t remember Murphy Brown.

A campaign spokesman came out on stage, the curtains behind him hiding any trace of a campaign sign, not giving any hint of who might actually be making the announcement this late in the game. Whoever he was, none of the reporters recognized him. He wasn’t even wearing a campaign button. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming, and I’ll get right to it,” he promised. “This candidate needs no long, drawn out introduction. His reputation speaks for himself. Running for the Republican nomination as President of the United States of America, I give you.... Hulk Hogan.”

The former (and not so former) wrestler stomped out on stage as the curtains were drawn, showing a massive Hulk Hogan 2016 banner. He was dressed not in the suit and tie one might expect, but a Hulkster T-shirt, shorts, boots, and bandanna, huffing and puffing and being something of a shadow of the physical specimen he was in his prime. It’s been a rough few months for Hogan- being declared persona non grata by the wrestling organization that made him famous after racist remarks on a sex tape came to light, among other such remarks. He’s lost whatever reputation he had left (this from a man who spent time in a reality show on his own dysfunctional family), and no wrestling organization wants anything to do with him. Aside from a gag announcement that he was running for office, the wrestler’s never expressed the slightest interest in politics before- so what on earth was this about?

Hogan was busy flexing his muscles and looking like he was five seconds away from a stroke- or perhaps chronic constipation. Finally he strode up to the podium and started talking. Or yelling- the man doesn’t seem to have a volume switch, let alone comprehension that people can hear what he’s saying. Perhaps he’s been hit in the head too many times by steel chairs. “The Hulkster’s in the house, brother, and I’m here to say that I’m runnin’ for President under the Republican party, brother!” He nodded. “Lots of Hulkamaniacs out there love the Hulkster and have grown up as fans, so now they’re voters and they’re sick and tired of the way things are and they want to say their prayers and eat their vitamins and take their steroids just like the Hulkster... wait... forget I said anything about steroids.”

He paused before going on. “You know what, brother, this country’s about redemption. Sure, I’ve made a few mistakes here and there, and I’m sorry, but hey, who hasn’t made mistakes, brother? My point is that we get second chances, and that’s why I’m here, brother, to get this country back on track, kick some serious butt, and wrestle our problems in that squared circle, brother, just like I did in the ring.”

A reporter spoke up. “You do realize wrestling is fake?”

Hogan looked annoyed, and told his spokesman, “Get that guy’s name, brother.”

The reporter carried on. “My point is you spent years in a scripted sports entertainment world where everything was fixed. Granted, you certainly must have done a whole lot of damage to your body over time, including, I suppose, to your brain...”

Hogan nodded as if to concede the point. “Okay, sure, that’s right, I mean, hell, my knees are shot to hell, brother, and as for my head... what were we talking about, brother? Oh, right. Anyway, let’s get back on track. Don’t go talking about wrestlin’ as fake, brother, because all those Hulkamaniacs out there believe in us and believe in me and want to see this country be champions again, and that’s why I’m here, brother. I’m here to put these pythons around the necks of those ISIS guys and start squeezin’, and when I’m done with them, I’ll be body slammin’ those Democrats in Congress. And when I’m done there, brother, you just know that I’m gonna pile drive Putin into the ground and do the big leg drop on him, brother...”

By this point, reporters were rolling their eyes and wondering just how dumb Hogan was- did it explain his repetitive use of the word brother? Of course, that was par for the course in this year’s GOP nominee list. Hogan paused, and looked at the crowd of reporters before carrying on. “I want to bring out the guy I’ve chosen to be my campaign manager and Secretary Of State once I get into the White House. I would have liked to have Roddy Piper do this job, but hey, he went off to that squared circle in the sky where the Big Man’s refereein’ all the wrestlin’ bouts until the end of time. Anyway, give it up for the one, the only... the Nature Boy, Ric Flair!”

Reporters shook their heads in dismay. Flair, whose time in the ring as a heel and a champion, has often paralleled Hogan’s run, came out on stage, strutting in a suit. Why anyone calls a man in his mid sixties by the term Nature Boy is another matter. He looked even more on the edge of a stroke than Hogan, his peroxide blond hair contrasting sharply with his red face. “Wooooooooooooooooooo!!!” he bellowed, walking up to Hogan and shaking his hand. “Can you believe it? The Hulkster running for President! And if that’s not enough, he’s got me as his right hand man, the limousine ridin’, jet flyin’, kiss stealin’, wheelin’ dealin’ son of a gun.”

Reporters were aghast. “You have got to be joking,” this reporter protested.

Hogan looked confused. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about, brother.”

“Look,” Flair added. “It’s very simple. To be the man, you’ve gotta beat the man.”

“What it all comes down to, brother,” Hogan blurted out. “Is this: Hulkamania’s running wild...”

“Despite that whole controversy about your bigoted remarks?” another reporter pointed out.

Hogan rolled his eyes. “Are we still on that? Can’t you people leave what’s in the past, in the past? What’s important right now is that we get into the White House where we can knock some heads around and suplex Congress and say to the French, whatcha gonna do when President Hulk runs wild on you????”

One reporter broke the awkward silence. “You do realize we’re not in some kind of conflict with France, do you?”

Flair shrugged. “Not yet!”

There was a rustle of noise from the back of the room. A crowd of reporters came in, surrounding blowhard tycoon Donald Trump, who of course has been making an ass of himself on the campaign trail every time he opens his mouth. He stopped, looking up at the stage, and called out, “Hey! I’m the only one in this building who should be having a campaign event today. What the **** is this?” He stormed up onto the stage. “This is unacceptable! Totally ****ing unacceptable!”

Flair rolled his eyes. Hogan sighed. “You haven’t gotten bored yet, Donald?” Hogan asked.

Trump sneered in that way only a Trump can. “ Who gave you the right to rain on my parade? You two are losers! Losers! You’re as big a pair of losers as those losers who don’t want me to be president of the United States! And as big a pair of losers as those people dumb enough to vote for me as president of the United States!”

“Are you aware you said that out loud, Mr. Trump?” a reporter asked.

Trump glared into the crowd. “Who the **** gave you permission to talk to me? I say a lot of stuff out loud!”

Before he could continue, Hogan walked over, grabbed him by the throat, and hit him. Flair dashed backstage, and came out with a steel chair. “Hulk!” he called out.

Hogan picked up Trump by the collar, pinned his arms behind him, and held him in place. Flair strode forward, the chair at the ready, and smacked Trump square in the face with it. The two wrestlers then proceeded to inflict elbow drops, leg drops, body slams, figure fours, piledrivers, body splashes, backbreakers, and other wrestling moves on the tycoon. Strangely, no one bothered to intervene.

After they were done, the two left the stage, chanting, “we’re number one”, while Trump staffers came forward, ascertaining that it had not, in fact, been a stunt and that their boss was bloody and battered. Paramedics were called for, and the Donald was removed from the scene by ambulance, looking like he had been trampled by elephants.

Republicans in Congress seemed pleased. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell seemed delighted as he spoke to reporters in that slow drawl. “Hogan and Flair took care of the Trump problem for us, so they’re welcome in the Republican fold.”

President Obama had to put out a minor diplomatic fire with the French, reassuring their President that Hogan and Flair are little more than halfwitted morons who will never actually get into the White House, even as visitors.

As for Trump himself, it appears the tycoon’s campaign may well be at an end. He’s currently laid up in a body cast, tended to by doctors and nurses, unable to communicate beyond tapping one unbroken pinkie finger on a computer screen. His daughter Ivanka had a brief written statement issued to the press: “My father has only been expressing one sentence, over and over, in his current state, and it is, I quote: someone kill Hulk Hogan and Ric Flair.”

One Morning In The Somme

Before we get things started today, go on over to Norma's blog for her movie review for Thor: The Dark World. It's a good one. Now then, tomorrow is Remembrance Day in Canada. While it goes by different names elsewhere in the world, November 11th, the last day of the First World War, is commemorated to honour the war dead and the veterans of wars in many places across the globe. Aside from this post, keep an eye out at Sacred Ground where I wrote a guest blog for Lyn on the soldier and poet John McCrae. And have a peek at Kittie's blog, where she is paying tribute to the U.S. Marines. I'll be attending the national ceremonies here at the War Memorial tomorrow, as well as taking in things at the War Museum in the afternoon. There will be pictures to come, and you can find Remembrance Day posts starting tomorrow at my photoblog. Today, I'm going back in time nearly a century, to a dark day in the fields of France...

Each Canada Day, before the crowds start to build in downtown Ottawa, a solemn ceremony takes place at the War Memorial. A wreath is laid in memory of a terrible July 1st from the First World War. It is in memory of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, which served under British command in the Great War, and would pay the ultimate price on a bloody July morning during the Battle of the Somme.

Until 1949, when Newfoundland joined Confederation, the province was under British jurisdiction, and Newfoundland soldiers served overseas in that conflict. A regiment sized force was sent to Europe, serving in the Gallipoli campaign under the Newfoundland Regiment name. By March of 1916, it was transferred to the Western Front, where by a trick of fate, it ended up in line at a place called Beaumont-Hamel.

What would end up being called the Battle Of The Somme is often characteristic of the futility of the First World War: an entire generation of young men, killed, wounded, or forever marked by the horrors of war, sent by officers employing tactics from the days of Napoleon.... against machine guns, accurate artillery, and poison gas. It was only towards the end, during the Hundred Days, when someone figured out how to coordinate attacks with combined arms fighting, that the stalemate would finally break. The Battle Of The Somme, which would kill or wound over a million men, saw its first day on the first of July.

Nearly eight hundred soldiers and officers of the Newfoundland Regiment set out that morning from positions following the explosion of a mine shaft beneath German lines. The explosion alerted the Germans to the impending attack, and there was confusion and miscommunication from the British command about what was happening with British units on the field. The men moved out onto the field of battle from their trenches, into the line of fire... and into history. Within a half hour, of the seven hundred eighty men who moved out from the trenches, only one hundred ten emerged unhurt, with little more than half of that number still fit for duty the following day. A casualty rate of eighty percent, it pretty much finished off the regiment, and actually ended up being the second highest fatality rate of an attacking force during the battle.

It is a wound that remains among Newfoundlanders even today, a profound shock to the system. Canada Day is also Memorial Day for Newfoundlanders, the reminder of one terrible day for so many of their own far across the sea. The shattered regiment's remnants was given the prefix Royal by King George V- a very rare distinction- and the battlefield was purchased by Newfoundland following the war, the largest portion of the Battle of the Somme to be set aside. The Commonwealth Cemetery at Beaumont-Hamel contains the remains of those who fell, in neat rows with white gravestones. It's a peaceful place, surrounded by preserved trenches and rolling ground... and yet the possible presence of unexploded ordnance still in places decades later. There are memorials there to the 29th British Division, as well as the 51st Highland Division, both of which suffered appalling losses during the battle, and the place is dominated by the Newfoundland Memorial, a bronze statue of a caribou that stands sentinel over the fields. 

On November 11th, we gather at cenotaphs to remember and honour the war dead and the surviving veterans, not only of the Great War, but those before and since. The veterans of the Great War are all dead now; those with direct memories of that time are fewer by the day. The veterans of the Second World War that finally resolved so many issues are a dwindling number in countries across the world. It is to us to remember their stories.

It is places like this, where men who fought for King and country far from home, that resonate in Canadian history, even before Newfoundland was part of our country. Beaumont-Hamel is one of the places I must see with my own eyes someday, to walk the paths, see the graves, to truly understand that terrible morning nearly a century ago.

A Prelude To Overlord

"Just as the defending force has gathered valuable experience from... Dieppe, so has the assaulting force. He will not do it like this a second time." ~ Field Marshal von Rundstedt

Before I get to things today, have a look over at Lyn Fuchs' blog Sacred Ground, where I wrote a guest blog about the Three Peaks Challenge in Great Britain. Have a look, and let me know what you think.

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day, the ninety fourth anniversary of the end of World War One. The guns fell silent in the trenches of Europe on November 11th, 1918, and ever since, the day has become a focal point, across the world, for remembrances of the sacrifices of veterans not only of the First World War, but the wars that were to follow.

This year marks the seventieth anniversary of the Battle of Dieppe, a moment that weighs heavily on Canadian history during the Second World War. The raid on the Nazi held port of Dieppe in France on August 19th, 1942 turned out to be a disaster for the invading forces, mostly Canadians, with a number of British soldiers and a handful of American rangers, and the supporting air forces.

After the evacuation at Dunkirk in 1940, Allied command set to work for the day when they could push back across the English Channel and start to drive back the Germans. Operation Rutter- later renamed Operation Jubilee as the specifics of planning changed- started to develop out of this, an amphibious landing on the coast, as a way to capture a port- or a series of ports- and test the strength of German defenses in preparation for a full scale invasion. In addition, there was pressure coming from the Soviet Union to relieve some of the pressure of the Nazi invasion into their borders. Dieppe was selected for its relative closeness, an asset for air support across the channel. The port is set along a cliff on the Channel, with two rivers flowing through, and at the time, German artillery batteries and coastal defenses already set up.

The operation, overseen by Lord Mountbatten, was meant to capture the port in an amphibious raid, conducting as much destruction on enemy defenses- particularly the artillery posts- as possible without destroying infrastructure, before withdrawing back across the Channel. It would serve as a test for the coordination of land, sea, and air forces in the eventual main invasion. General Bernard Montgomery, who would go on to take on Rommel in the Sahara the following year and annoy pretty much everyone else in the Allied Command through the rest of the war, selected Canadian troops for the bulk of the raid, to give them combat experience and seasoning. Nearly five thousand of the invaders were Canadians, men of the 2nd Canadian Infantry Division. They were joined with a thousand British commandos and fifty Rangers. They were supported by naval craft and aircraft from the RAF and RCAF, and were dispatched across the Channel.

The landing started well, though that didn't last. Commandos neutralized one of the artillery batteries on the west flank. Other beach landings in the predawn went the other way. German troops on the ground countered Canadian forces, in some cases driving them back and forcing them to evacuate before attaining their objectives. Other landings were disastrous, the waves of the Channel wrecking havoc with the amphibious craft, delaying their beach landings. Failing to take the eastern headlands allowed German artillery to blast the beach in the main attack area, dooming the raid entirely. Landing craft were destroyed. Men drowned. Others were gunned down as they arrived on the pebble beaches. Tanks were destroyed or disabled in the attack. Troops found themselves cut off from getting back to evacuate as the operation came apart, and found themselves forced to surrender.

By the end of the morning, the raid was called off. 3367 men, of whom 2752 were Canadian, were either dead or taken prisoner on the beaches of Dieppe. The raid was deemed a failure, with the conclusion that Allied command had no appreciation for the risks involved in the operation. Still, lessons were learned, which would come in handy two years later in the Overlord landings in Normandy. Improved communications between field officers and headquarters was essential, as well as between the naval, sea, and land components of an invasion. The importance of a seaport for the focal point of an invasion was dropped out of further plans. The need for air bombing of enemy targets was made perfectly clear for an invasion to have a chance of success. Naval ships had to work much better to support infantry against coastal defences. Landing craft had to be improved. Beach obstacles had to be quickly dealt with and bypassed for infantry to gain a better foothold on landings. Everything had to be planned, down to the finest detail. Canadian General Henry Crerar later said that D-Day would have been a disaster had it not been for the hard lessons learned at Dieppe.

Seventy years on, we now know something that wasn't public knowledge at the time. Recently declassified military documents confirm the long suspicion that part of the true purpose of the raid was to capture German documents and devices such as the Enigma machine to allow Allied command to decode German communications. This aspect of the raid, it turns out, was devised by Ian Fleming, who went on to write about a suave secret agent years after the war ended. The attempted theft, or "pinch", as the English called it, didn't succeed at Dieppe.

The guns are silent now. Seventy years after Dieppe, most of the veterans of the raid are gone. Those who remain are in their late eighties or early nineties, like so many veterans of the Second World War. Each week that passes, more of them die. Across the ocean, the graves of those who fell are tended in perpetuity, sacred ground for the nations who sent their young to fight and die, not only to free Europe, but to save it... and the world itself.

Remember them.