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Channel crossing
I was fascinated by Edmund West’s article (MHM 153, August/September 2026) concerning the events of 1066, and I wonder if I might draw attention to something which I think is frequently overlooked, namely that Harold Godwinson was a Sussex man, born and bred, and therefore would have had an intimate knowledge of the English Channel in all its moods and in all seasons. Consequently, it is more than likely that, by the beginning of September, with the approach of the season of equinoctial gales, the prospect of William setting out on a cross-Channel adventure was, to Harold’s thinking, becoming increasingly remote. (He had himself experienced shipwreck in the Channel only a few years before.) This would also explain why Harold sent his fleet ‘home’ to a safer location, whether that was London or elsewhere, and why he took the risk of leaving the South Coast relatively undefended in order to go north.
What he failed to appreciate, of course, is that, for William, it was ‘now or never’. If he was to abandon the invasion, the force he had built up and had waited so patiently for until now would almost certainly melt away, and the prospect of being able to resurrect it in the spring would be extremely doubtful. So William chanced his arm, the Channel stayed calm, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Ray Mills, Burton upon Trent, Staffordshire
Cool commander
Reading Fred Chiaventone’s article on Little Bighorn (MHM 152, June/July 2026) brought back a lot of memories. Some years ago, I had the good fortune to visit the site of the battle. Fred infers that Major Marcus Reno and Captain Frederick Benteen (below) managed to establish defensive positions on the bluffs above Little Bighorn. Sorry, but I disagree; Major Reno withdrew from his attack on the Indian camp and is quoted as saying to Captain Benteen, ‘For God’s sake Benteen, halt your command and help me. I’ve lost half my men.’ It was Benteen who organised the defence, staying on his feet; Reno stayed largely out of it.
In the subsequent court of inquiry, Major Reno was given a half-hearted vindication. He was subsequently dismissed from the army on unrelated charges, and died a decade later a broken man. Captain Benteen, who it’s fair to say was disliked by everyone in the 7th Cavalry, came out of the encounter noted for his strong leadership and cool bravery.
Richard Gunn, via email
Bumpy ride
David Porter’s article on the Kaiser’s secret weapons (MHM 153, August/September 2026) was packed with interest. Of course, it’s not possible to cover every invention in one article, but it was a shame, in the section on German armour, that he passed without comment over the limitations of the Second Reich’s only tank to see action, the A7V Sturmpanzerwagen.
The A7V had a number of drawbacks. With low ground clearance, it performed poorly in the cratered landscape of the Western Front, and was prone to overturning. The driver’s vision was limited. The A7V’s 17-man crew found the ride so bumpy that some would ride on the outside, rather negating the point of an armoured vehicle. It was armed with six machine guns and a forward-facing cannon, and was capable of 9mph in good conditions.
Only 20 were made, but they did have the distinction of taking part in the world’s first tank battle in April 1918, an indecisive affair near Villers Bretonneux in northern France. Not surprisingly, the Germans preferred to use captured British Mark IV tanks.
The only surviving example of this lumbering monster is in a museum in Brisbane, Australia, but the Tank Museum at Bovington has a working replica that is put through its paces from time to time.
Don Leyland, Harrogate, North Yorkshire
