Tag: Books

Writing about writing a book – Research – 12

Background material used in researching the Vietnam war and various other aspects of that period

…

Who were the North Vietnamese, really?

…

More Than Just Tunnels: Deconstructing North Vietnam’s Winning Strategy

The Vietnam War remains one of the most studied and strategically complex conflicts of the 20th century. Facing the overwhelming technological and logistical might of the United States and its allies, the armed forces of North Vietnam—primarily the People’s Army of Vietnam (PAVN), often referred to as the NVA, supported by the southern irregular forces known as the Viet Cong (VC)—employed a doctrine that defied conventional military wisdom.

Their strategy was not about winning battles in the traditional sense; it was about protracted war and the exhaustion of the enemy’s political will.

Here is a deep dive into how the North deployed its troops and the sophisticated methodology they utilized to take the fight to the Allied soldiers.

1. The Deployment Structure: Two Armies, One Goal

The North’s deployment strategy was inherently flexible, relying on a tiered military structure designed to adapt to any environment, from dense jungle to urban centers.

A. The Viet Cong (VC): The Irregular Force

The Viet Cong served as the political and military instrument in the South. They were not a conventional army but an insurgency operating within South Vietnam’s villages and hamlets.

Deployment Methodology:

  • Decentralization: VC units were deployed locally, focused on small-scale harassment, ambushes, and targeted assassinations of ARVN (South Vietnamese Army) officials.
  • Infiltration by Footprint: VC units were often indistinguishable from the local populace, deploying fighters who worked the rice paddies by day and fought by night.
  • Infrastructure Destruction: Their primary military deployment targets were the infrastructure supporting the US/ARVN presence: supply lines, airbases, and communication centers.

B. The PAVN (NVA): The Main Force

The PAVN was the formal, organized army of North Vietnam. These were well-trained, disciplined, and heavily armed conventional units, often deployed in regimental and divisional strength.

Deployment Methodology:

  • Strategic Infiltration: PAVN forces were primarily deployed via the Ho Chi Minh Trail (see below). They avoided direct, large-scale contact with US forces until the conditions were optimal (e.g., during the Tet Offensive or the 1972 Easter Offensive).
  • The Element of Surprise: When PAVN units were deployed in pitched battles, they focused on achieving total surprise and concentrating overwhelming, temporary firepower before rapidly melting back into the jungle or border sanctuaries.

2. The Logistics Highway: The Ho Chi Minh Trail

The single greatest factor in troop deployment was the elaborate logistical network known as the Ho Chi Minh Trail. This was not a single road but a constantly shifting, 16,000-kilometer web of trails, paths, rivers, and depots running through neutral Laos and Cambodia.

Strategic Impact on Deployment:

  • Bypassing Defenses: The Trail allowed hundreds of thousands of troops and vast amounts of material to bypass the heavily fortified Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) and move deep into the South, often positioning them directly behind US defenses.
  • Sustained Pressure: By keeping the logistics flowing despite intense American air interdiction (Operation Rolling Thunder and others), the North could continually refresh its forces, deploying new units to replace losses and ensuring the insurgency never withered away.
  • Mobility as Fortress: Because the Trail routes changed daily and were covered by dense jungle canopy, the US bombing campaigns often failed to halt troop movement, making mobility itself a form of defense.

3. Methodology in Combat: Neutralizing US Advantages

The North Vietnamese knew they could not win a conventional war against American firepower. Their methodology was designed purely to negate the US technological superiority.

A. The Strategy of “Clinging to the Belt”

This was one of the most effective tactical moves deployed by the PAVN. When engaging American ground forces, NVA units were instructed to deploy forces and fight at extremely close quarters, often termed “grabbing the enemy’s belt.”

Rationale:

  • By fighting nose-to-nose, the Americans could not safely call in their most powerful assets—tactical aircraft, napalm, or heavy artillery—without risking friendly fire casualties.
  • This effectively reduced the battle back to infantry vs. infantry, minimizing the US advantage in technology and maximizing the North’s advantage in tenacity and knowledge of the terrain.

B. Ambushes and Rapid Dispersal

VC and PAVN units specialized in the planned ambush. This was a deployment methodology based on hit-and-run tactics:

  1. Selection of Terrain: Choosing areas where US mobility was constrained (jungles, rice paddies, or remote valleys).
  2. Overwhelming Fire: Deploying all available troops and weapons to achieve a massive initial burst of fire, inflicting maximum casualties in the first minutes.
  3. Rapid Retreat: Before the American command could organize a counter-attack or coordinate air support, the NVA/VC forces would melt away, using prepared escape routes, tunnels, or border sanctuaries (known as Base Areas).

C. The Use of Tunnels and Base Areas

Deployment wasn’t just about moving across the surface; it was under it. The famous Cu Chi Tunnels near Saigon and similar networks served multiple strategic purposes:

  • Sanctuaries: Allowing troops to deploy and stage operations deep inside areas the US considered secured.
  • Hidden Bases: Providing underground logistics hubs, hospitals, and command centers.
  • Evasion: Allowing forces to disappear immediately after an engagement, frustrating US “search and destroy” missions.

4. The Political Dimension: The Protracted War

The PAVN/VC deployment was always dictated by political goals. General Vo Nguyen Giap, the architect of the North Vietnamese struggle, emphasized that the true battlefield was the American political landscape.

The Methodology of Exhaustion:

  • Avoid Annihilation: Troops were deployed carefully to avoid any battle that could lead to a decisive defeat. Their goal was survival, not conquest until the final stages of the war.
  • Inflict Casualties: Every single US casualty inflicted by a sustained troop deployment amplified anti-war sentiment back home. The deployment strategy was therefore calibrated to maximize enemy losses while minimizing the risk to the overall force structure.
  • The Final Phase: Only late in the war, when the US had significantly withdrawn and the ARVN was left struggling, did PAVN change its deployment methodology to focus on large-scale, conventional maneuvers (like the deployment of tank columns and heavy artillery) necessary to secure the final victory in 1975.

The North Vietnamese methodology for deploying troops was a brilliant exercise in adaptability. They transformed their logistical weaknesses into defensive strengths, used geography to neutralize superior air power, and ensured that every soldier deployed served the overarching political mission: convincing the American public that victory was impossible. Their success remains a testament to the strategic power of insurgency and asymmetric warfare.

Writing a book in 365 days – 322

Day 322

Writing exercise – The tea cart was at least five minutes late; something had to be done.

…

I worked in an office full of self-absorbed people, who cared only about themselves and what the company could do for them.

It was always about the bonus, about the amenities, about anything they can get for nothing.

So, don’t get me started on the morning tea.

And afternoon tea.

Because of the nature of the work, it wasn’t a good idea to leave the desk, except at lunch when they had to have a break, and when they went home, which sometimes some forgot to.

Or so they said.

I wasn’t that dedicated, so perhaps that was the only reason why I wasn’t rocketing up the promotions ladder.  The higher you went, the more the company owned you.

I looked around.  Five-thousand-dollar suits, car keys for Maseratis and Ferraris proudly on display.  An ancient Ford wasn’t a status symbol, but then I was never about status, just about getting the job done.

Walters, the current ‘ace employee of the month’, was sitting back in his chair and looking at his watch, a Rolex, of course, then the office clock, which was never on time.

“Where’s the tea lady?”

There were two options: going up to the breakout area on the floor below the executive suite or having it at the desk.

Several elderly ladies ran the trolley, a nice, easy job for an hour or so in the morning and the afternoon.  The three that serviced our floor were Doris, my favourite, Matilda, who always had a dour demeanour, and Lizzie, younger, once a showgirl, or so she said.

I was never quite sure what ‘showgirl’ meant.

Today, it should have been Lizzie.

“Still boiling the water.”  Frazer, equally boorish as Walters, was known for smart ass remarks.

“It’s not as if you haven’t been late when you have to be somewhere.”

Like any appointment with his supervisor.

“Be a good chap, Roly, and find out where it is.”

I glared at him.  My name was Rollins, but he called me Rolly.  He had a name for everyone he considered beneath him in status.

His other name, Roly Poly, he said when he was with the others at the Friday night drinks at a nearby bar.  I went once, heard his slanging off the lesser employees and the others laughing, and decided it was not my thing.

I was going to tell him off, but it would simply go through one ear and out the other.

The breakout area had an annexe where the tea ladies prepared before coming down to their designated food by the freight elevator.

I’d been in it once, and it was lucky to be working.  The day I was in it, it stopped twice without reason and missed the floor by a foot which would make it impossible to unload a negotiating.

I went up via the main elevator lobby.  Mt first thought was that the freight elevator was stuck, and she was in it

I crossed the breakout area, very spacious and airy, walls without windows lined with vending machines, free tea, coffee and cold water all day.

Today, there were cookies, which sometimes found their way onto the tea cart.

I knocked on the door to the tea lady’s room, and there was no answer.  I opened the door and stepped in.  It was a restricted area, but there was no key card entry required.

The room was a mess.  It looked to me as though someone had a tantrum and started throwing stuff.  Until I looked closely and realised someone had been searching through everything in a methodical manner.

There was another door on the other side of the room.  I picked my way carefully through the mess; security was going to have to find out what happened here.

Again, I knocked, but there was no answer.

I opened the door

The three ladies were bound and gagged, sitting on the floor.  It was then that I realised the tea carts were missing.

I called security.  “You have a situation.   The tea ladies are bound and gagged, and their trolleys are missing.”

No questions or instructions, a few seconds later, the fire evacuation siren was blaring, a voice over, “This is not a drill.  I repeat, this is not a drill.  Please evacuate the building in a calm and orderly manner as directed.  Floor wardens are to immediately supervise and evaluate floors as directed.”

While that announcement was being made, I untied and removed Lizzie’s gag, then she helped one and I the other.

When they were free, I asked, “What happened?”

Two men and a woman came in and started asking questions.  We thought they were health inspectors until they started tossing stuff everywhere, looking for a pass.”

“A pass?”

“Floor access key.  Or maybe a master key.  Then, because Lizzie went for the phone we finished up where you found us.”

“Did they say anything else?”

“Only they were going to kill some bloke because he didn’t do his job properly.”

“Someone who works here?”

“That would be my guess,” Lizzie said. “Anything important happening?”

Important in this place.  Nothing that was ever exciting enough to incite what just happened.”

“Did they find the pass?”

“Yes.  It had a man’s face on it, but it was too far away to recognise it.”

I called security again.

“You’re looking for two men, a woman, three tea carts, and they have a pass key that someone else left for them to collect.  Do you have CCTV up here?”

He didn’t answer, just hung up.  I took that as a no.

When I turned around to tell the ladies we had to evacuate the building, Lizzie was by the door holding a gun.

A gun.  Where did she get it? Why did she have it?

“Join the other two and go back into the room.” She motioned with the gun for emphasis.  “Now.”

She looked at her watch.

Time was a factor.  

“Why are you doing this?  Are you in league with those criminals?”

“They’re not criminals.  You lot are the criminals.  Get in the room, I won’t ask again.”

You can’t argue with a gun.  “Let’s go, do as she asks.  Not worth the trouble refusing.”

They looked to me like they were going to say something, then thought twice about it and went into the room.  I followed, and before she shut the door, I said, “Whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s worth it.”

“It will be.”

The door closed, and I heard the turn of the key in the lock.  It was a flimsy door, but this wasn’t the time to kick it in.  I waited by the door, and a minute or so later, I heard the outer room door close and I assumed she had locked that too.

“If I hadn’t come, she would have got away with it,” I said.

“She didn’t look like she was working with them.  Just goes to show, you think you know someone.”

“And there’s someone else out there working with them.”

“To do what?”

Good question.  I was wondering that myself.  Lizzie had called the company criminals.  All we did was invest money, make the clients richer.  Admittedly, it had become that much harder to pick the market given the volatility, which, some argued, was deliberately being manipulated.

One negative word from a government official could send a stock higher or plummet in value, leaving investors with huge losses.

Walters had been flying high on a lot of good tips, but the last stock that went up, he should have sold, instead, waited just a little too long.  Perhaps he’d crossed his tipster.  That would mean he was effectively insider trading.

Interesting how something comes together with the right catalyst. 

The thing is, investors knew who their trader was, so if anyone was upset, they could complain or demand an explanation.  The supervisor was tough but fair. You cause a mess, you clean it up.

I doubted Lizzie was one of those high roller investors, but in such a job, a few bucks to supply a pass key was nothing to her.  Unless it turned into a murder.  Brandishing guns in a highly volatile situation was a recipe for disaster.

“It might have something to do with bad investments.”

And something else just dredged up from the back of my mind.  A sighting about a month back of one of the directors of the company having lunch at a fancy restaurant I had wanted to go to, passed most days on the way home from work.

It was not because he was dining there; it was the woman he was with.  I thought he might be having an affair, but several days after that, her face popped up on TV, and she was being linked to a government project that was worth billions of dollars.

And the report was about the next big thing in the construction industry

Interesting.

“Not a good look for an investment company to have bad investments.”

“It’s a volatile market, and a lot of investment houses have problems.  But you’re right, not a good look, and very problematic if the investors start getting itchy feet.”

“And that happened here?”

“Everyone praises you when you back the right horse, but like a horse race, you never really know which horse is going to win.  Sometimes, even dead certs lose.  It happens everywhere.”

I don’t think I sold the ‘we are the best of the best’ to her.  At that moment, the fire alarm stopped, and the silence was blessed.  She just shrugged and produced a set of keys.

“You have the keys to the door?”

“Of course.  Senior tea lady.  It just wasn’t safe to go out there, until now.”

I stepped back, and she unlocked the door. 

“You open it.  Lizzie must still be out there.”

I debated whether I should tell her I heard Lizzie leave, but decided not to.  I opened the door a crack and peered out.

Nothing.

I pushed the door open and came out into the room.

Silence, which was strange in itself.  There was always noise.

She gave me the keys to open the outset door and check.  Once again, only opening it slightly, I glanced down both sides of the corridor.  If Lizzie had any sense, she would have left quickly

“Stay here and lock the door.  I’ll go and see what’s happening.”

I took the closest staircase to go down.  In a fire alarm, all the doors on each floor were unlocked.  It was eerily quiet on the stairwell as I slowly went down to my floor.  I told myself that it could not have been about Walters and the others.

At the level, I slowly opened the door.  Silence.  If anyone was there, there would be noise, at the very least, Walters babbling on about the intrusion.

I waited a minute.  Two.  Nothing.

Then, slowly walking up the corridor to the pit, the workspaces of the half dozen of us in the group, and in the office overlooking the outside, the supervisor.

I stopped at the door and nearly vomited.  They were all dead, shot multiple times, with blood and bodies everywhere.  My five colleagues and the supervisor.  Dead.

Walters had done me a favour by sending me off to find the tea lady.  Otherwise, I’d be with them, just another dead body.

That’s when the police arrived, about a dozen of them screaming for me to get on the floor, hands behind my head.

…

©  Charles Heath 2025

First Dig Two Graves

A sequel to “The Devil You Don’t”

…

Revenge is a dish best served cold – or preferably so when everything goes right

Of course, it rarely does, as Alistair, Zoe’s handler, discovers to his peril. Enter a wildcard, John, and whatever Alistair’s plan for dealing with Zoe was dies with him.

It leaves Zoe in completely unfamiliar territory.

…

John’s idyllic romance with a woman who is utterly out of his comfort zone is on borrowed time. She is still trying to reconcile her ambivalence, after being so indifferent for so long.

They agree to take a break, during which she disappears. John, thinking she has left without saying goodbye, refuses to accept the inevitable, calls on an old friend for help in finding her.

After the mayhem and being briefly reunited, she recognises an inevitable truth: there is a price to pay for taking out Alistair; she must leave and find them first, and he would be wise to keep a low profile.

But keeping a low profile just isn’t possible, and enlisting another friend, a private detective and his sister, a deft computer hacker, they track her to the border between Austria and Hungary.

What John doesn’t realise is that another enemy is tracking him to find her too. It could have been a grand tour of Europe. Instead, it becomes a race against time before enemies old and new converge for what will be an inevitable showdown.

Writing a book in 365 days – 322

Day 322

Writing exercise – The tea cart was at least five minutes late; something had to be done.

…

I worked in an office full of self-absorbed people, who cared only about themselves and what the company could do for them.

It was always about the bonus, about the amenities, about anything they can get for nothing.

So, don’t get me started on the morning tea.

And afternoon tea.

Because of the nature of the work, it wasn’t a good idea to leave the desk, except at lunch when they had to have a break, and when they went home, which sometimes some forgot to.

Or so they said.

I wasn’t that dedicated, so perhaps that was the only reason why I wasn’t rocketing up the promotions ladder.  The higher you went, the more the company owned you.

I looked around.  Five-thousand-dollar suits, car keys for Maseratis and Ferraris proudly on display.  An ancient Ford wasn’t a status symbol, but then I was never about status, just about getting the job done.

Walters, the current ‘ace employee of the month’, was sitting back in his chair and looking at his watch, a Rolex, of course, then the office clock, which was never on time.

“Where’s the tea lady?”

There were two options: going up to the breakout area on the floor below the executive suite or having it at the desk.

Several elderly ladies ran the trolley, a nice, easy job for an hour or so in the morning and the afternoon.  The three that serviced our floor were Doris, my favourite, Matilda, who always had a dour demeanour, and Lizzie, younger, once a showgirl, or so she said.

I was never quite sure what ‘showgirl’ meant.

Today, it should have been Lizzie.

“Still boiling the water.”  Frazer, equally boorish as Walters, was known for smart ass remarks.

“It’s not as if you haven’t been late when you have to be somewhere.”

Like any appointment with his supervisor.

“Be a good chap, Roly, and find out where it is.”

I glared at him.  My name was Rollins, but he called me Rolly.  He had a name for everyone he considered beneath him in status.

His other name, Roly Poly, he said when he was with the others at the Friday night drinks at a nearby bar.  I went once, heard his slanging off the lesser employees and the others laughing, and decided it was not my thing.

I was going to tell him off, but it would simply go through one ear and out the other.

The breakout area had an annexe where the tea ladies prepared before coming down to their designated food by the freight elevator.

I’d been in it once, and it was lucky to be working.  The day I was in it, it stopped twice without reason and missed the floor by a foot which would make it impossible to unload a negotiating.

I went up via the main elevator lobby.  Mt first thought was that the freight elevator was stuck, and she was in it

I crossed the breakout area, very spacious and airy, walls without windows lined with vending machines, free tea, coffee and cold water all day.

Today, there were cookies, which sometimes found their way onto the tea cart.

I knocked on the door to the tea lady’s room, and there was no answer.  I opened the door and stepped in.  It was a restricted area, but there was no key card entry required.

The room was a mess.  It looked to me as though someone had a tantrum and started throwing stuff.  Until I looked closely and realised someone had been searching through everything in a methodical manner.

There was another door on the other side of the room.  I picked my way carefully through the mess; security was going to have to find out what happened here.

Again, I knocked, but there was no answer.

I opened the door

The three ladies were bound and gagged, sitting on the floor.  It was then that I realised the tea carts were missing.

I called security.  “You have a situation.   The tea ladies are bound and gagged, and their trolleys are missing.”

No questions or instructions, a few seconds later, the fire evacuation siren was blaring, a voice over, “This is not a drill.  I repeat, this is not a drill.  Please evacuate the building in a calm and orderly manner as directed.  Floor wardens are to immediately supervise and evaluate floors as directed.”

While that announcement was being made, I untied and removed Lizzie’s gag, then she helped one and I the other.

When they were free, I asked, “What happened?”

Two men and a woman came in and started asking questions.  We thought they were health inspectors until they started tossing stuff everywhere, looking for a pass.”

“A pass?”

“Floor access key.  Or maybe a master key.  Then, because Lizzie went for the phone we finished up where you found us.”

“Did they say anything else?”

“Only they were going to kill some bloke because he didn’t do his job properly.”

“Someone who works here?”

“That would be my guess,” Lizzie said. “Anything important happening?”

Important in this place.  Nothing that was ever exciting enough to incite what just happened.”

“Did they find the pass?”

“Yes.  It had a man’s face on it, but it was too far away to recognise it.”

I called security again.

“You’re looking for two men, a woman, three tea carts, and they have a pass key that someone else left for them to collect.  Do you have CCTV up here?”

He didn’t answer, just hung up.  I took that as a no.

When I turned around to tell the ladies we had to evacuate the building, Lizzie was by the door holding a gun.

A gun.  Where did she get it? Why did she have it?

“Join the other two and go back into the room.” She motioned with the gun for emphasis.  “Now.”

She looked at her watch.

Time was a factor.  

“Why are you doing this?  Are you in league with those criminals?”

“They’re not criminals.  You lot are the criminals.  Get in the room, I won’t ask again.”

You can’t argue with a gun.  “Let’s go, do as she asks.  Not worth the trouble refusing.”

They looked to me like they were going to say something, then thought twice about it and went into the room.  I followed, and before she shut the door, I said, “Whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s worth it.”

“It will be.”

The door closed, and I heard the turn of the key in the lock.  It was a flimsy door, but this wasn’t the time to kick it in.  I waited by the door, and a minute or so later, I heard the outer room door close and I assumed she had locked that too.

“If I hadn’t come, she would have got away with it,” I said.

“She didn’t look like she was working with them.  Just goes to show, you think you know someone.”

“And there’s someone else out there working with them.”

“To do what?”

Good question.  I was wondering that myself.  Lizzie had called the company criminals.  All we did was invest money, make the clients richer.  Admittedly, it had become that much harder to pick the market given the volatility, which, some argued, was deliberately being manipulated.

One negative word from a government official could send a stock higher or plummet in value, leaving investors with huge losses.

Walters had been flying high on a lot of good tips, but the last stock that went up, he should have sold, instead, waited just a little too long.  Perhaps he’d crossed his tipster.  That would mean he was effectively insider trading.

Interesting how something comes together with the right catalyst. 

The thing is, investors knew who their trader was, so if anyone was upset, they could complain or demand an explanation.  The supervisor was tough but fair. You cause a mess, you clean it up.

I doubted Lizzie was one of those high roller investors, but in such a job, a few bucks to supply a pass key was nothing to her.  Unless it turned into a murder.  Brandishing guns in a highly volatile situation was a recipe for disaster.

“It might have something to do with bad investments.”

And something else just dredged up from the back of my mind.  A sighting about a month back of one of the directors of the company having lunch at a fancy restaurant I had wanted to go to, passed most days on the way home from work.

It was not because he was dining there; it was the woman he was with.  I thought he might be having an affair, but several days after that, her face popped up on TV, and she was being linked to a government project that was worth billions of dollars.

And the report was about the next big thing in the construction industry

Interesting.

“Not a good look for an investment company to have bad investments.”

“It’s a volatile market, and a lot of investment houses have problems.  But you’re right, not a good look, and very problematic if the investors start getting itchy feet.”

“And that happened here?”

“Everyone praises you when you back the right horse, but like a horse race, you never really know which horse is going to win.  Sometimes, even dead certs lose.  It happens everywhere.”

I don’t think I sold the ‘we are the best of the best’ to her.  At that moment, the fire alarm stopped, and the silence was blessed.  She just shrugged and produced a set of keys.

“You have the keys to the door?”

“Of course.  Senior tea lady.  It just wasn’t safe to go out there, until now.”

I stepped back, and she unlocked the door. 

“You open it.  Lizzie must still be out there.”

I debated whether I should tell her I heard Lizzie leave, but decided not to.  I opened the door a crack and peered out.

Nothing.

I pushed the door open and came out into the room.

Silence, which was strange in itself.  There was always noise.

She gave me the keys to open the outset door and check.  Once again, only opening it slightly, I glanced down both sides of the corridor.  If Lizzie had any sense, she would have left quickly

“Stay here and lock the door.  I’ll go and see what’s happening.”

I took the closest staircase to go down.  In a fire alarm, all the doors on each floor were unlocked.  It was eerily quiet on the stairwell as I slowly went down to my floor.  I told myself that it could not have been about Walters and the others.

At the level, I slowly opened the door.  Silence.  If anyone was there, there would be noise, at the very least, Walters babbling on about the intrusion.

I waited a minute.  Two.  Nothing.

Then, slowly walking up the corridor to the pit, the workspaces of the half dozen of us in the group, and in the office overlooking the outside, the supervisor.

I stopped at the door and nearly vomited.  They were all dead, shot multiple times, with blood and bodies everywhere.  My five colleagues and the supervisor.  Dead.

Walters had done me a favour by sending me off to find the tea lady.  Otherwise, I’d be with them, just another dead body.

That’s when the police arrived, about a dozen of them screaming for me to get on the floor, hands behind my head.

…

©  Charles Heath 2025

Another excerpt from ‘Betrayal’; a work in progress

…

My next destination in the quest was the hotel we believed Anne Merriweather had stayed at.

I was, in a sense, flying blind because we had no concrete evidence she had been there, and the message she had left behind didn’t quite name the hotel or where Vladimir was going to take her.

Mindful of the fact that someone might have been following me, I checked to see if the person I’d assumed had followed me to Elizabeth’s apartment was still in place, but I couldn’t see him. Next, I made a mental note of seven different candidates and committed them to memory.

Then I set off to the hotel, hailing a taxi. There was the possibility the cab driver was one of them, but perhaps I was slightly more paranoid than I should be. I’d been watching the queue, and there were two others before me.

The journey took about an hour, during which time I kept an eye out the back to see if anyone had been following us. If anyone was, I couldn’t see them.

I had the cab drop me off a block from the hotel and then spent the next hour doing a complete circuit of the block the hotel was on, checking the front and rear entrances, the cameras in place, and the siting of the driveway into the underground carpark. There was a camera over the entrance, and one we hadn’t checked for footage. I sent a text message to Fritz to look into it.

The hotel lobby was large and busy, which was exactly what you’d want if you wanted to come and go without standing out. It would be different later at night, but I could see her arriving about mid-afternoon, and anonymous among the type of clientele the hotel attracted.

I spent an hour sitting in various positions in the lobby simply observing. I had already ascertained where the elevator lobby for the rooms was, and the elevator down to the car park. Fortunately, it was not ‘guarded’ but there was a steady stream of concierge staff coming and going to the lower levels, and, just from time to time, guests.

Then, when there was a commotion at the front door, what seemed to be a collision of guests and free-wheeling bags, I saw one of the seven potential taggers sitting by the front door. Waiting for me to leave? Or were they wondering why I was spending so much time there?

Taking advantage of that confusion, I picked my moment to head for the elevators that went down to the car park, pressed the down button, and waited.

The was no car on the ground level, so I had to wait, watching, like several others, the guests untangling themselves at the entrance, and an eye on my potential surveillance, still absorbed in the confusion.

The doors to the left car opened, and a concierge stepped out, gave me a quick look, then headed back to his desk. I stepped into the car, pressed the first level down, the level I expected cars to arrive on, and waited what seemed like a long time for the doors to close.

As they did, I was expecting to see a hand poke through the gap, a latecomer. Nothing happened, and I put it down to a television moment.

There were three basement levels, and for a moment, I let my imagination run wild and considered the possibility that there were more levels. Of course, there was no indication on the control panel that there were any other floors, and I’d yet to see anything like it in reality.

With a shake of my head to return to reality, the car arrived, the doors opened, and I stepped out.

A car pulled up, and the driver stepped out, went around to the rear of his car, and pulled out a case. I half expected him to throw me the keys, but the instant glance he gave me told him was not the concierge, and instead brushed past me like I wasn’t there.

He bashed the up button several times impatiently and cursed when the doors didn’t open immediately. Not a happy man.

Another car drove past on its way down to a lower level.

I looked up and saw the CCTV camera, pointing towards the entrance, visible in the distance. A gate that lifted up was just about back in position and then made a clunk when it finally closed. The footage from the camera would not prove much, even if it had been working, because it didn’t cover the life lobby, only in the direction of the car entrance.

The doors to the other elevator car opened, and a man in a suit stepped out.

“Can I help you, sir? You seem lost.”

Security, or something else. “It seems that way. I went to the elevator lobby, got in, and it went down rather than up. I must have been in the wrong place.”

“Lost it is, then, sir.” I could hear the contempt for Americans in his tone. “If you will accompany me, please.”

He put out a hand ready to guide me back into the elevator. I was only too happy to oblige him. There had been a sign near the button panel that said the basement levels were only to be accessed by the guests.

Once inside, he turned a key and pressed the lobby button. The doors closed, and we went up. He stood, facing the door, not speaking. A few seconds later, he was ushering me out to the lobby.

“Now, sir, if you are a guest…”

“Actually, I’m looking for one. She called me and said she would be staying in this hotel and to come down and visit her. I was trying to get to the sixth floor.”

“Good. Let’s go over the the desk and see what we can do for you.”

I followed him over to the reception desk, where he signalled one of the clerks, a young woman who looked and acted very efficiently, and told her of my request, but then remained to oversee the proceeding.

“Name of guest, sir?”

“Merriweather, Anne. I’m her brother, Alexander.” I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my passport to prove that I was who I said I was. She glanced cursorily at it.

She typed the name into the computer, and then we waited a few seconds while it considered what to output. Then, she said, “That lady is not in the hotel, sir.”

Time to put on my best-confused look. “But she said she would be staying here for the week. I made a special trip to come here to see her.”

Another puzzled look from the clerk, then, “When did she call you?”

An interesting question to ask, and it set off a warning bell in my head. I couldn’t say today, it would have to be the day she was supposedly taken.

“Last Saturday, about four in the afternoon.”

Another look at the screen, then, “It appears she checked out Sunday morning. I’m afraid you have made a trip in vain.”

Indeed, I had. “Was she staying with anyone?”

I just managed to see the warning pass from the suited man to the clerk. I thought he had shown an interest when I mentioned the name, and now I had confirmation. He knew something about her disappearance. The trouble was, he wasn’t going to volunteer any information because he was more than just hotel security.

“No.”

“Odd,” I muttered. “I thought she told me she was staying with a man named Vladimir something or other. I’m not too good at pronouncing those Russian names. Are you sure?”

She didn’t look back at the screen. “Yes.”

“OK, now one thing I do know about staying in hotels is that you are required to ask guests with foreign passports their next destination, just in case they need to be found. Did she say where she was going next?” It was a long shot, but I thought I’d ask.

“Moscow. As I understand it, she lives in Moscow. That was the only address she gave us.”

I smiled. “Thank you. I know where that is. I probably should have gone there first.”

She didn’t answer; she didn’t have to, her expression did that perfectly.

The suited man spoke again, looking at the clerk. “Thank you.” He swivelled back to me. “I’m sorry we can’t help you.”

“No. You have more than you can know.”

“What was your name again, sir, just in case you still cannot find her?”

“Alexander Merriweather. Her brother. And if she is still missing, I will be posting a very large reward. At the moment, you can best contact me via the American Embassy.”

Money is always a great motivator, and that thoughtful expression on his face suggested he gave a moment’s thought to it.

I left him with that offer and left. If anything, the people who were holding her would know she had a brother, that her brother was looking for her, and equally that brother had money.

…

© Charles Heath – 2018-2025

Third son of a Duke – The research behind the story – 4

All stories require some form of research, quite often to place a character in a place at a particular time, especially if it is in a historical context. This series will take you through what it was like in 1914 through 1916.

…

Setting Sail for Adventure: Decorum and Debauchery in Second Class, 1914

The modern cruise ship, with its all-you-can-eat buffets and poolside revelry, often conjures images of an exuberant, perhaps even uninhibited, youth. It’s easy to imagine young adults embracing a spirit of “live for the moment” on a contemporary voyage. But what about their ancestors, embarking on a similar, albeit far more arduous, journey a century ago? Specifically, what were the acceptable social norms for young people travelling in second class from England to Australia in 1914, and how might they have comported themselves, a world away from today’s cruise ship scene?

The very idea of “acceptable social norms” in 1914 is a stark contrast to our contemporary understanding. Society was far more rigid, with deeply ingrained expectations regarding behaviour, dress, and social interaction, especially for young, unmarried individuals. The journey from England to Australia, often a voyage lasting weeks and involving significant time in close quarters, would have been a microcosm of these societal standards.

Second Class in 1914: A Different Kind of Journey

First class, of course, was the domain of the wealthy and aristocratic, with its own set of gilded rules. But second class, while not as opulent, still offered a degree of comfort and privacy that distinguished it from steerage. Passengers in second class were generally of the middle and upper-middle classes – professionals, skilled tradespeople, and those with respectable means. The expectation was that they would carry themselves with a degree of decorum befitting their social standing.

For young women, the norms were particularly stringent:

  • Chaperonage: Unmarried young women were rarely expected to travel unaccompanied. If they were travelling alone, it was usually for a specific, respectable purpose, like joining family or taking up employment as a governess. Even then, they would have been expected to be discreet and avoid drawing undue attention. If travelling with friends of a similar age, a more senior female relative or acquaintance would ideally be present to offer guidance and supervision.
  • Dress: Modesty was paramount. Dresses would be long-sleeved and ankle-length, with high necklines. Even for leisure, elaborate hats and gloves might be worn for meals or time spent on deck. Casual wear as we know it simply didn’t exist.
  • Social Interaction: Interactions with young men would have been carefully managed. Polite conversation was acceptable, but prolonged or overly familiar interactions would have been frowned upon. Any hint of romantic entanglement would have been a serious matter, potentially impacting a young woman’s reputation and future prospects. Flirtation, if it occurred, would have been subtle and masked by propriety.
  • Activities: While there would have been opportunities for socialising on deck, activities would have been more sedate. Reading, embroidery, letter writing, and quiet conversation would have been common. Group card games or board games might have been played, but always with an air of polite engagement.

For young men, the expectations, while perhaps slightly less restrictive than for women, were still substantial:

  • Respect and Deference: Young men were expected to show respect to their elders and to ladies. Overt displays of bravado or boisterous behaviour would have been considered ill-mannered.
  • Dress: Formal attire was often the norm for dinner, even in second class. Suits, ties, and smart shoes would be expected.
  • Activities: While they might have engaged in more active pursuits on deck, such as deck quoits or walking, they would still have maintained a civil demeanour. Engaging in gambling or heavy drinking would have been seen as unsavoury.
  • Interactions with Women: As with young women, interactions would have been governed by politeness. Overtures towards unmarried women would have been inappropriate and could have led to social ostracisation for both parties.

A Hypothetical Voyage: England to Australia in 1914

So, if those same young people who might now be “perpetually drunk and promiscuous” on a modern cruise were instead on a 1914 voyage from England to Australia in second class, what would their experience likely have been?

Instead of loud music and raucous parties, imagine:

  • Quiet Evenings on Deck: Young women might be found seated with their companions, perhaps engaged in conversation or a quiet game of cards, while young men stroll nearby, exchanging polite greetings.
  • Respectful Pursuits: Reading novels, writing letters home detailing the voyage, or perhaps learning a new skill like sketching the passing scenery. Evenings might involve listening to a fellow passenger play the piano or attending a small, organised lecture.
  • Carefully Navigated Social Circles: Any developing friendships would be nurtured within the watchful gaze of chaperones or the implicit understanding of societal expectations. A stolen glance or a whispered conversation might be the extent of any budding romance.
  • A Sense of Purpose: This was not a holiday for most. Many were emigrating for a new life, seeking opportunities, or reuniting with family. The journey itself was a significant undertaking, often involving a considerable financial and emotional investment. This inherent seriousness would have tempered any inclination towards frivolous behaviour.

What about the “drunk and promiscuous” aspect?

While alcohol was certainly available and consumed, the levels of public intoxication seen on some modern cruises would have been highly scandalous. Drunkenness would have been seen as a sign of poor breeding and lack of self-control. Promiscuity would have been even more damaging, carrying severe social repercussions for all involved. The fear of gossip and the potential ruin of one’s reputation would have been a powerful deterrent.

In essence, the young passengers of 1914, second class, were confined by a much stricter social contract. Their interactions would have been characterised by restraint, politeness, and a keen awareness of their social standing and future prospects. While a spark of youthful exuberance might have still flickered, it would have been expressed through more subtle means – perhaps a shared laugh during a formal dinner, a spirited debate on deck, or the shy exchange of a dance card at a rare shipboard social event. It was a world where decorum reigned, and the consequences of transgressing those norms were far more severe than a few disapproving glances on a modern cruise.

Writing about writing a book – Research – 11

Background material used in researching the Vietnam war and various other aspects of that period

…

Agent Orange

…

Agent Orange: The Poisonous Legacy of Environmental Warfare in Vietnam

The Vietnam War was a conflict defined by brutal jungle warfare, unconventional tactics, and an enemy often indistinguishable from the dense landscape. As the war escalated, the U.S. military faced a massive tactical roadblock: the triple-canopy jungle provided impenetrable concealment for Viet Cong forces, allowing ambushes and safeguarding critical supply routes like the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

In response, the U.S. authorized a controversial initiative known as Operation Ranch Hand (1962–1971), a large-scale program of chemical warfare—specifically, the deployment of toxic herbicides designed to strip the jungle bare. At the peak of this effort stood a compound with lasting, devastating consequences: Agent Orange.

This post explores precisely what Agent Orange was, how it was deployed, and the indelible mark it left on both the soldiers who sprayed it and the people whose homeland was poisoned.

1. What Was Agent Orange?

Agent Orange was not a typical battlefield weapon designed to kill immediately. It was a tactical herbicide, an effort in environmental warfare designed to achieve two strategic goals:

  1. Defoliation: Stripping the jungle canopy to deny the Viet Cong cover and increase visibility for aerial surveillance and ground patrols.
  2. Crop Destruction: Eliminating enemy food sources in rural areas to disrupt supply chains and pressure the civilian population.

The Chemical Composition

The compound was a fifty-fifty mix of two powerful, commercially available herbicides: 2,4-D and 2,4,5-T. It was named “Agent Orange” simply because of the distinctive orange stripe painted on the 55-gallon drums used for storage.

The true source of its lethal long-term danger, however, was a byproduct of the manufacturing process for 2,4,5-T: TCDD Dioxin (2,3,7,8-tetrachlorodibenzo-p-dioxin). Dioxin is one of the most toxic substances known to man. Even trace amounts are highly carcinogenic and teratogenic (capable of causing birth defects).

Crucially, when Agent Orange was first deployed, many U.S. personnel were told the chemical was harmless, simply a strong form of weed killer.

2. Deployment: Operation Ranch Hand

The goal of Operation Ranch Hand was summarized chillingly by its crews: “Only you can prevent forests.”

Deployment required a massive, coordinated logistical effort across South Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos.

Methods of Application

The vast majority of Agent Orange—over 11 million gallons—was deployed via aerial spraying from 1965 to 1970.

  • Fixed-Wing Aircraft: The primary spray platform was the C-123 Provider transport plane. These planes were modified with large tanks and external spray booms, flying low (often just 150 feet above the canopy) and at slow speeds to ensure maximum coverage.
  • Helicopters and Ground Vehicles: Smaller quantities were sprayed by helicopters and applied from backpacks and trucks around base perimeters, supply depots, and waterways.
  • Massive Quantities: The spraying was not targeted or precise. To achieve the required defoliation, the herbicide was often applied at concentrations 6 to 25 times higher than the levels recommended by the manufacturers for ordinary use.

The chemicals soaked the vegetation, the soil, the waterways, and, inevitably, the people and animals caught below.

Environmental Impact

The operational scope resulted in catastrophic ecological damage. Over 10% of South Vietnam’s territory—including vast tracts of dense mangrove forests and inland forests—was sprayed, often multiple times. This not only destroyed the existing ecosystem but contaminated the food chain and rendered countless acres of land useless for agriculture for decades.

3. The Hidden Wound: Effects on Those Deploying It

For U.S. servicemen—whether pilots flying the C-123s, ground crews mixing and loading the drums, or infantry patrolling recently sprayed areas—exposure was unavoidable. They breathed the mist, swam in contaminated rivers, and handled leaking barrels.

The tragic revelation for these veterans was that the “harmless weed killer” they were exposed to led to devastating, delayed-onset health crises decades later.

Recognized Health Conditions

The Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) now recognizes a long list of presumptive illnesses linked to Agent Orange exposure. These include:

  • Cancers: Prostate cancer, respiratory cancers, multiple myeloma, Hodgkin’s and non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
  • Systemic Diseases: Parkinson’s disease, Type 2 diabetes, peripheral neuropathy, and ischemic heart disease.
  • Chloracne: A severe, persistent skin disorder caused by dioxin exposure.

Intergenerational Tragedy

Perhaps the most heartbreaking effect on American veterans was the impact on their children and grandchildren. The VA recognizes that veterans’ children may suffer from certain birth defects, particularly Spina Bifida. This realization transformed Agent Orange from a personal battle into an intergenerational health crisis for thousands of American families.

Recognition and compensation for these illnesses were slow, often requiring decades of legal battles and scientific research to confirm the painful connection between their service and their sickness.

4. The Lasting Scars: Effects on the Enemy and Local Population

While U.S. personnel suffered delayed exposure, Vietnamese citizens—especially those living in heavily sprayed areas or near former U.S. bases where chemicals were stored—suffered direct and sustained exposure, leading to environmental disaster and a profound humanitarian crisis that continues today.

Human Health Catastrophe

The effects of high-level dioxin exposure in Vietnam were immediate and catastrophic. Generations have been born with severe and debilitating birth defects, resulting in conditions often referred to collectively as Agent Orange Defects (AO-related disabilities). These include severe cognitive and physical disabilities, missing limbs, profound intellectual impairment, and complex medical issues.

Estimates suggest that up to three million Vietnamese people have been affected by Agent Orange, including hundreds of thousands of children born with birth defects. The physical and economic burden on families caring for severely disabled relatives is immense.

Contamination Hotspots

The dioxin contaminant is highly persistent, bonding closely with soil and sediment. Even decades after the war, high concentrations of dioxin remain in certain “hotspots,” primarily former U.S. airbases (like Bien Hoa and Da Nang) where barrels were handled, spilled, and often buried. These areas continue to poison the local environment and population, contaminating fish, poultry, and crops.

The Enduring Poison

Agent Orange represented a radical departure in modern warfare, relying not on explosions but on systematic environmental destruction. It was intended to be a swift tactical solution to end a jungle war. Instead, it created an enduring humanitarian crisis that continues to plague Vietnam and the U.S. veteran community.

The legacy of Agent Orange serves as a dark reminder that some weapons continue to inflict wounds long after the final shots are fired, forcing governments and societies to reckon with the profound, catastrophic cost of environmental warfare.

Writing a book in 365 days – 321

Day 321

What will happen to the hero?

…

The Novelist’s Secret: We’re Just As Curious As You Are

We all know the feeling. It’s midnight, the house is dark, and you are gripping the latest thriller, utterly unable to put it down. Your heart pounds, palms sweat, and the only certainty in the universe is the desperate need to know: Will the hero survive?

This is the glorious, undeniable suspense of the reader. We assume this thrill is exclusive to us—the consumers of the story.

But what if I told you that, sitting across the desk, hunched over a lukewarm cup of coffee and a blinking cursor, the person crafting the plot is often experiencing the very same, stomach-dropping curiosity?

The prevailing image of the novelist is that of an omniscient deity, a master architect meticulously placing every brick, knowing how the structure must inevitably fall. While some writers certainly embody this role—the celebrated “plotters”—the deepest, most resonant stories often emerge when the creator surrenders control and becomes, quite simply, the hero’s most dedicated and most anxious first reader.

The suspense of a novel is not only in the reader but also in the novelist, who is equally curious about what will happen to the hero. This is the great secret of discovery writing: The story is not written; it is uncovered.

The Myth of the Master Plan

For those who write by “discovery” (often affectionately termed “pantsers,” because they write by the seat of their pants), the process is less like following a blueprint and more like exploring a vast, uncharted cave. You have a flashlight (your protagonist’s core motivation) and a general direction, but you have no idea if the path ahead leads to a treasure chamber or a sudden, terrifying drop.

When a writer starts a story this way, the suspense is inherent in every word. Every time the protagonist is confronted with a choice, the author holds their breath, asking:

Will he take the risk, or play it safe?
Will she finally tell the truth, even though it ruins everything?
Is this conflict a dead end, or a pivot point?
This is not simple intellectual curiosity; it is a genuine, existential stake in the outcome. The novelist is betting their time, their craft, and the integrity of the entire manuscript on the hero making an organic, believable next move—a move the novelist themselves must wait to witness.

When Characters Take the Wheel

The moment a character truly comes alive is the moment they cease being a puppet for the writer’s agenda and become an autonomous force.

This is the thrilling, terrifying point of no return for the author. The character stops doing what the outline demands and starts doing what they would logically do, given their history, flaws, and desires.

Many authors describe this sensation. Characters rebel. They refuse to fall in love with the intended partner. They walked out of the room when they were supposed to deliver a crucial monologue. They exhibit an inconvenient, but utterly truthful, streak of self-sabotage that the author never planned.

When this happens, the novelist’s job shifts from creator to witness. We are no longer designing the journey; we are scrambling to keep up, racing down the page just to see how our heroes will resolve the mess they’ve just made.

This is the purest form of writerly suspense. We are tied to the narrative not just by obligation, but by a sudden, intense fear for our creation. Will this impulsive decision ruin the story? Or will it, astonishingly, unlock the one perfect plot twist we never saw coming?

The Unique Burden of the Author’s Suspense

The reader’s suspense is passive; it is the anticipation of consumption. The author’s suspense, however, is active; it is the anxiety of creation and execution.

An author’s curiosity isn’t just about what happens, but about how they are going to manage to write it convincingly.

If the hero is trapped in a burning building, the reader wonders: How will he get out?

The novelist wonders: How will he get out, and can I write that scene with enough detail, tension, and structural integrity that the whole book doesn’t collapse at this crucial moment?

The novelist’s curiosity is perpetually interwoven with the demands of craft. We are curious about the outcome, but we are also desperately curious about our own ability to deliver that outcome flawlessly. We are thrilled by the uncertainty, but burdened by the knowledge that we are responsible for making that uncertainty pay off.

The Beautiful Surrender

To create genuine suspense for the reader, the writer must first allow themselves to feel it. The greatest narratives are not those where the author is in total control, but those where the author has surrendered enough control to be genuinely surprised.

If the author already knows every character beat, every twist, and every final line, the writing process can become mechanical and stale—and that flatness will invariably translate to the finished page.

The writer who is slightly nervous, slightly unsure, and deeply invested in the fate of their protagonist is the writer who is pouring genuine, fresh energy into the text.

So the next time you are lost in a book, turning pages in a fever pitch of excitement, remember the person who wrote it. They may have been turning those internal pages just as quickly, hoping, fearing, and discovering the story right alongside you.

This shared curiosity—this simultaneous suspense binding creator and consumer—is perhaps the purest magic of the human-authored novel. It is the moment we realise that writing is not the act of manufacturing an inevitability, but the wondrous challenge of documenting a life that insists on being lived.

Writing a book in 365 days – 321

Day 321

What will happen to the hero?

…

The Novelist’s Secret: We’re Just As Curious As You Are

We all know the feeling. It’s midnight, the house is dark, and you are gripping the latest thriller, utterly unable to put it down. Your heart pounds, palms sweat, and the only certainty in the universe is the desperate need to know: Will the hero survive?

This is the glorious, undeniable suspense of the reader. We assume this thrill is exclusive to us—the consumers of the story.

But what if I told you that, sitting across the desk, hunched over a lukewarm cup of coffee and a blinking cursor, the person crafting the plot is often experiencing the very same, stomach-dropping curiosity?

The prevailing image of the novelist is that of an omniscient deity, a master architect meticulously placing every brick, knowing how the structure must inevitably fall. While some writers certainly embody this role—the celebrated “plotters”—the deepest, most resonant stories often emerge when the creator surrenders control and becomes, quite simply, the hero’s most dedicated and most anxious first reader.

The suspense of a novel is not only in the reader but also in the novelist, who is equally curious about what will happen to the hero. This is the great secret of discovery writing: The story is not written; it is uncovered.

The Myth of the Master Plan

For those who write by “discovery” (often affectionately termed “pantsers,” because they write by the seat of their pants), the process is less like following a blueprint and more like exploring a vast, uncharted cave. You have a flashlight (your protagonist’s core motivation) and a general direction, but you have no idea if the path ahead leads to a treasure chamber or a sudden, terrifying drop.

When a writer starts a story this way, the suspense is inherent in every word. Every time the protagonist is confronted with a choice, the author holds their breath, asking:

Will he take the risk, or play it safe?
Will she finally tell the truth, even though it ruins everything?
Is this conflict a dead end, or a pivot point?
This is not simple intellectual curiosity; it is a genuine, existential stake in the outcome. The novelist is betting their time, their craft, and the integrity of the entire manuscript on the hero making an organic, believable next move—a move the novelist themselves must wait to witness.

When Characters Take the Wheel

The moment a character truly comes alive is the moment they cease being a puppet for the writer’s agenda and become an autonomous force.

This is the thrilling, terrifying point of no return for the author. The character stops doing what the outline demands and starts doing what they would logically do, given their history, flaws, and desires.

Many authors describe this sensation. Characters rebel. They refuse to fall in love with the intended partner. They walked out of the room when they were supposed to deliver a crucial monologue. They exhibit an inconvenient, but utterly truthful, streak of self-sabotage that the author never planned.

When this happens, the novelist’s job shifts from creator to witness. We are no longer designing the journey; we are scrambling to keep up, racing down the page just to see how our heroes will resolve the mess they’ve just made.

This is the purest form of writerly suspense. We are tied to the narrative not just by obligation, but by a sudden, intense fear for our creation. Will this impulsive decision ruin the story? Or will it, astonishingly, unlock the one perfect plot twist we never saw coming?

The Unique Burden of the Author’s Suspense

The reader’s suspense is passive; it is the anticipation of consumption. The author’s suspense, however, is active; it is the anxiety of creation and execution.

An author’s curiosity isn’t just about what happens, but about how they are going to manage to write it convincingly.

If the hero is trapped in a burning building, the reader wonders: How will he get out?

The novelist wonders: How will he get out, and can I write that scene with enough detail, tension, and structural integrity that the whole book doesn’t collapse at this crucial moment?

The novelist’s curiosity is perpetually interwoven with the demands of craft. We are curious about the outcome, but we are also desperately curious about our own ability to deliver that outcome flawlessly. We are thrilled by the uncertainty, but burdened by the knowledge that we are responsible for making that uncertainty pay off.

The Beautiful Surrender

To create genuine suspense for the reader, the writer must first allow themselves to feel it. The greatest narratives are not those where the author is in total control, but those where the author has surrendered enough control to be genuinely surprised.

If the author already knows every character beat, every twist, and every final line, the writing process can become mechanical and stale—and that flatness will invariably translate to the finished page.

The writer who is slightly nervous, slightly unsure, and deeply invested in the fate of their protagonist is the writer who is pouring genuine, fresh energy into the text.

So the next time you are lost in a book, turning pages in a fever pitch of excitement, remember the person who wrote it. They may have been turning those internal pages just as quickly, hoping, fearing, and discovering the story right alongside you.

This shared curiosity—this simultaneous suspense binding creator and consumer—is perhaps the purest magic of the human-authored novel. It is the moment we realise that writing is not the act of manufacturing an inevitability, but the wondrous challenge of documenting a life that insists on being lived.

Third son of a Duke – The research behind the story – 3

All stories require some form of research, quite often to place a character in a place at a particular time, especially if it is in a historical context. This series will take you through what it was like in 1914 through 1916.

…

The Unravelling Threads: Class, Gender, and the Dawn of a New Social Order in Edwardian England (Pre-1913 to Women’s Suffrage)

Abstract

This paper examines the profound social transformations occurring in England leading up to 1913 and culminating in women’s suffrage. It argues that the rigid, tripartite class structure (First, Second, Third) was in an advanced state of disintegration, driven by increased education, improved economic prospects for many, and a challenge to traditional hierarchies. Concurrently, women, empowered by growing educational and employment opportunities and frustrated by their subordinate legal and political status, increasingly rejected the confines of the domestic sphere. This paper charts the interconnected shifts: the erosion of aristocratic power, the rise of the educated and organised working man, and the burgeoning feminist consciousness that relentlessly pushed for political inclusion, ultimately securing the vote as a symbol of a fundamentally altered social landscape.

Introduction

By the autumn of 1913, England, seemingly secure in its imperial grandeur, was in fact undergoing a profound and irreversible social metamorphosis. The Victorian certainties of a hierarchical, class-driven society were fraying under the weight of economic change, educational advancement, and an increasingly vocal demand for social and political justice. The notion of a strictly defined “first, second, and third class” was disintegrating, giving way to a more fluid, complex, and contested social order. Concomitantly, the traditional role of women, once confined almost exclusively to the domestic realm, was being vigorously challenged. Education, employment, and a growing consciousness of their disenfranchisement spurred women to demand more than just children, hearth, and husband. This paper will explore these parallel and often intersecting trajectories, charting the general shift from a static, class-driven society before 1913 to the pivotal moment when women finally secured the parliamentary vote, demonstrating how these societal changes irrevocably altered the fabric of British life.

The Erosion of the First Class: Nobility in Decline

Throughout the 19th century, the British social hierarchy was ostensibly topped by the aristocracy and landed gentry – the “First Class.” Their power derived from inherited land, wealth, and a virtual monopoly on political office in both Houses of Parliament. However, by the late Victorian and Edwardian periods, their pre-eminence was under severe strain. The agricultural depression of the late 19th century drastically reduced rental incomes, diminishing the economic foundation of their power. Concurrently, the rise of industrial and commercial wealth created a new plutocracy that could rival, if not surpass, the traditional landed elites. New money, often earned through manufacturing, finance, or colonial ventures, began to infiltrate the upper echelons, sometimes through strategic marriages with impoverished gentry, further blurring the lines of inherited status.

Moreover, death duties, introduced and increased by Liberal governments (notably the “People’s Budget” of 1909), systematically eroded inherited wealth, forcing the sale of ancestral lands and estates. The burgeoning meritocracy, fuelled by expanding educational opportunities, also challenged the notion of inherited privilege as the sole determinant of leadership. While titles and social prestige still held currency, the aristocracy’s direct political power was diminished, especially in the House of Commons, and their social authority increasingly rested on an image of continuity rather than actual economic or political dominance. The shift was palpable: old wealth was struggling to maintain its footing against the surging tide of new wealth and new ideas.

The Diminished Ruling Classes and the Ascent of the Middle and Working Man

The “ruling classes” – traditionally comprising the aristocracy and the upper echelons of the gentry and clergy – found their influence diluted not only by the decline of old money but also by the rise of an expanded and increasingly professionalised middle class. This “Second Class,” encompassing industrialists, merchants, bankers, doctors, lawyers, and civil servants, derived its power from expertise, capital, and administrative competence rather than land. With the expansion of the empire and the burgeoning complexities of modern governance and economy, their practical and intellectual contributions became indispensable. They filled the ranks of local councils, managed vast commercial enterprises, and staffed the burgeoning bureaucracy, effectively taking over many of the administrative and professional functions once loosely held by the gentry.

Crucially, below them, the “working man” – historically considered the “Third Class” – was indeed forging ahead. The Elementary Education Act of 1870, followed by subsequent legislation, made education compulsory for all children, significantly raising literacy rates and opening doors to better-paid, skilled employment. This created a more knowledgeable and politically conscious populace. Improved wages, particularly for skilled workers in growing industries, meant a higher standard of living for many. The rise of powerful trade unions, such as the Amalgamated Society of Engineers and the Miners’ Federation of Great Britain, provided collective bargaining power that challenged the absolute authority of employers. Landmark legal victories, like the Trades Disputes Act of 1906, solidified their right to strike and organise.

Politically, the extension of the franchise through the Reform Acts of 1867 and 1884 enfranchised a significant proportion of working-class men, fundamentally altering the electoral landscape. This paved the way for the emergence of the Labour Party in 1900, which provided a distinct political voice for the working class, advocating for social welfare, workers’ rights, and a more equitable distribution of wealth. By 1913, the working man was no longer a silent, passive force; he was increasingly educated, organised, and politically assertive, demanding a greater share in the nation’s prosperity and governance. This shift from deference to demand was a cornerstone of the unravelling class system.

The Awakening of Women: Education, Aspiration, and Discontent

Parallel to these shifts in class structure, an equally profound transformation was occurring in the social expectations and aspirations of women. For centuries, the ideal of the “Angel in the House” confined middle and upper-class women to the domestic sphere, while working-class women often toiled in arduous, low-paid labour simply to survive. However, by 1913, this paradigm was collapsing under the weight of new opportunities and growing discontent.

The expansion of girls’ education was a primary catalyst. Institutions like the Girls’ Public Day School Trust, established in 1872, offered rigorous academic curricula, moving beyond mere accomplishments to genuine intellectual training. Crucially, the establishment of women’s colleges at Oxford (Lady Margaret Hall, Somerville) and Cambridge (Girton, Newnham) in the late 19th century, along with the admission of women to London University degrees, provided pathways to higher education previously unimaginable. Girls, increasingly, wanted better education prospects and the opportunity to go to university, not merely to become more accomplished wives, but to pursue professions and intellectual lives.

This educational revolution coincided with new employment opportunities. The late 19th and early 20th centuries saw the growth of “feminised” professions like teaching and nursing, as well as the burgeoning fields of clerical work (typists, secretaries) and retail. While these jobs were often lower-paid and carried less prestige than male-dominated professions, they offered financial independence and a public role beyond the home. Women were no longer content to have children, stay at home, and tend to their husbands; they wanted careers, intellectual stimulation, and a life of purpose that transcended domesticity.

Legal reforms also facilitated this shift. The Married Women’s Property Acts of 1870 and 1882 were revolutionary, granting married women the right to own and control their own earnings and property, rather than having them automatically revert to their husbands. This significantly improved their economic autonomy and legal standing, laying the groundwork for greater independence.

The Fight for Political Agency: From Social Reform to Suffrage

The growing educational and economic empowerment of women inevitably led to demands for political inclusion. Women, increasingly involved in social reform movements (temperance, poverty relief, public health), recognised the intrinsic link between their lack of political power and their inability to effect meaningful change. They observed that while male factory workers, coal miners, and agricultural labourers had been granted the vote, educated, tax-paying women remained disenfranchised.

The suffrage movement, which had roots in the mid-19th century, gained significant momentum in the period leading up to 1913. It is divided broadly into two wings:

  1. The National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies (NUWSS): Led by Millicent Garrett Fawcett, the “Suffragists” employed constitutional and peaceful methods – petitions, lobbying MPs, public meetings, and propaganda. Their arguments centred on equality, justice, and the idea that women’s unique moral insights were necessary for good governance.
  2. The Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU): Founded by Emmeline Pankhurst and her daughters Christabel and Sylvia, the “Suffragettes” adopted more militant tactics from 1905 onwards. Frustrated by the slow pace of constitutional change, they engaged in civil disobedience, property damage (window smashing, arson), hunger strikes, and public disruption, famously employing the slogan “Deeds, not Words.” While controversial, their actions brought unprecedented publicity to the cause, forcing it onto the national political agenda.

By 1913, the suffrage movement was a powerful, albeit divided, force, having successfully articulated the fundamental injustice of female political exclusion. The arguments against women’s suffrage — that women were too emotional, intellectually inferior, or that their participation would corrupt politics and abandon the home — were increasingly seen as outdated and indefensible in the face of women’s demonstrated capabilities and contributions to society.

The Catalyst of War and the Culmination of Change (1914-1918)

The outbreak of the First World War in August 1914 temporarily halted the militant suffrage campaign, as the WSPU, in particular, threw its weight behind the war effort. This proved to be a pivotal moment. With millions of men going to the front, women stepped into roles previously deemed exclusively male: working in munitions factories (the “munitionettes”), driving ambulances, working on farms, conducting clerical work, and taking on jobs in public transport. Their indispensable contribution to the war effort shattered any remaining arguments about their physical and mental incapacity. The war demonstrated, unequivocally, that women were capable, patriotic citizens, essential to the nation’s survival.

The war also highlighted the practical absurdity of the existing franchise laws. Many soldiers at the front, having been away from home for extended periods, no longer met the property qualifications to vote. There was a political consensus that a new franchise act was necessary to enfranchise these returning servicemen. The opportunity arose to include women within this reform. The selfless service of women during the war, coupled with the strategic abandonment of militancy by the suffragettes, created an undeniable moral and political imperative for reform.

Finally, in 1918, the Representation of the People Act was passed. This landmark legislation granted the vote to women over 30 who met minimum property qualifications (either as householders or wives of householders, or as university graduates), and simultaneously enfranchised all men over 21. While not full universal suffrage (which would come in 1928, granting women the vote on the same terms as men), the 1918 Act represented a monumental victory. It was a recognition not just of women’s war effort, but also of the decades of growing educational attainment, economic independence, and persistent political agitation that had preceded it. The “first class” was largely gone, the “ruling classes” diffused, the working man empowered, and now, a significant portion of women had also gained a direct voice in shaping their nation’s future.

Conclusion

The period leading up to 1913 and culminating in the 1918 Representation of the People Act witnessed a seismic shift in English society. The rigid, inherited class structure, which had defined social and political life for centuries, was indeed disintegrating. The nobility struggled under economic pressures and a rising meritocracy, while the traditional “ruling classes” found their influence diluted by an expanding professional middle class. Concurrently, the working man, empowered by education, trade unionism, and the franchise, was forging ahead, demanding greater social and economic justice.

Crucially, these changes did not occur in isolation from the burgeoning aspirations of women. As girls gained unprecedented access to education and women increasingly entered the workforce, they rejected the narrow confines of the domestic sphere. This collective awakening, coupled with legal reforms and decades of organised political activism, laid the groundwork for the suffrage movement. The First World War acted as a powerful accelerant, decisively demonstrating women’s indispensable role in national life and making their continued political disenfranchisement untenable.

The granting of the vote to women in 1918 was not merely a legislative act; it was a profound symbol of a new social contract. It marked the formal acknowledgment that the old order, based on inherited privilege, patriarchal authority, and rigid class divisions, had irrevocably passed. England, by 1918, had moved significantly towards a more inclusive, albeit still imperfect, society – one where education, economic contribution, and gender, rather than simply birthright, increasingly defined an individual’s place and political agency. The threads of the old class system had unravelled, paving the way for a more complex tapestry of social and political identities, forever changing the landscape of British democracy.