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The article examines Soviet paper reuse as an ideological, economic daily practice, implemented through the advanced, but hitherto undescribed Soiuzutil’ waste collecting system by the early 1930s as the reverse side of Stalinist industrialization. It argues that Soiuzutil’ waste paper handling attempted to form a new socialist collective by reworking old print while cultivating citizens as classless scrap-collectors, for the sake of an (ir)rational resource optimization. While World War II intensified recycling efforts among the Allied and Axis powers, invasion and evacuation damaged Soviet waste collection to a point where no return of paper into a centralized system was possible. War forced printers and consumers to retreat to local self-supply networks, as paper remained a crucial, yet scarce resource. By analyzing technical-educational literature and correspondence of the reutilization offices, the article demonstrates the changing attitudes in the Stalinist war economy, the industries, and the population towards mobilizing and saving paper.

During World War II, publishing was an important element of the war effort for both the Allies and the Axis powers. Wartime propaganda and cultural diplomacy relied primarily on books, magazines and the daily press. The exiled governments in London, including the Polish government, undertook a major effort to translate, publish and promote numerous books and pamphlets that would appeal to British readers and thereby help to sway public opinion. This paper focuses on translation as an important aspect of wartime publishing that has not yet received much scholarly attention. It offers a contribution to research into the role and place of translations in wartime publishing by discussing the Polish government-in-exile's translation and publishing campaign. Drawing on various archival sources, it demonstrates that publishing translations was an important part of wartime cultural diplomacy and led to the development of extensive state-private networks that brought together exiled governments and British publishers. By analysing this material in a broad cultural context, the paper highlights the historical, ideological and political relevance of translation studies research to wartime publishing and censorship.

First paragraph: The cover of this open call issue of JAFSCD is a Google Earth shot of the Schrebergartens outside Mann­heim, Germany. Schrebergartens are named for Dr. Moritz Schreber, a Leipzig University professor who specialized in pediatric health. He is infamous for advocating that children strictly obey adults, but he also suggested that city children should have access to fresh air and green space. Schrebergartens are similar in some respects to the Russian dacha, often including “tiny houses,” raised beds, perennials—and lots of garden gnomes. Entire colonies of Schrebergartens have been established since WWII. . . .

This paper is dedicated to the centenary of a founder of statistical antenna theory - Professor Yakov Shifrin who had been an organizer of the antenna science in the independent Ukraine since the early nineties until 2019. It outlines his life, education, participation in the World War II, scientific achievements, scientific-organizational and social activities, and human features.

Writers in the field of postal history have incredibly diverse interests and approaches. As a result, the postal history symposia have been organized around themes. The three themes represented in papers here are mail and the Civil War (2012), the development of transoceanic air mail service (2014), and the influence of postal treaties on post office reforms (2016).The American Civil War affected mail in many ways, particularly in the Confederate States of America, which faced the challenge of quickly developing its own postal system as well as shortages of supplies, in-cluding paper. The mail itself can be used to tell the story of the conflict through the examination of patriotic and propaganda images on envelopes and through the study of shifts in mail routes and practices as the war progressed.The histories of aviation and of mail delivery are intertwined. Pressure to deliver mail faster and more efficiently helped to propel investment in aviation innovations. In turn, developments in flight opened new possibilities for carrying the mail. The development of transoceanic air mail from its very early days in the 1920s through the rise of military air mail services during World War II is examined.Throughout much of history, mail has been the primary means of communication both within and be-tween nations; thus, the regulations and agreements concerning what may be mailed, and for what cost, have had a profound effect on a population’s access to information. Postal reform, and particularly the creation of national postal systems, required that immediate needs as well as political and economic visions of the future be considered and addressed legally and structurally during state-building. Cases of the United States in the revolutionary era and Brazil in the nineteenth century are examined.

Paper money originated in times when gold and silver coinage were in short supply and therefore, in a sense, all paper money is a substitute for specie. However, there have been circumstances when even the supply of paper money was inadequate. On such occasions various forms of emergency money have made their appearance.

This article builds upon recent scholarship on the recycling – or ‘salvage’ – schemes organized by the British government during the Second World War. Viewing the act of recycling as part of an interactive ‘communications circuit’, it uses records produced by the Ministry of Information to analyse the development of publicity produced for the national salvage campaign. Particular attention is paid to the public's role in shaping the course of the campaign. By demonstrating that a disjuncture between publicity and perceptions of inaction led to a sense of frustration, the article suggests that this example complicates the notion of a ‘people's war’.

It is well known to readers of this journal that the British labor movement is in a state of precipitous decline. A recent government White Paper, for example, reports that since 1990 alone the percentage of workplaces with no union members at all has risen from 36 percent to 47 percent. Perhaps more ominously, the percentage of workplaces that recognize trade unions has dropped from 66 percent in 1984 to 45 percent in 1998. From 1979, when trade union density was estimated at over 55 percent of the workforce, it is now hovering somewhere between 30 and 35 percent. It is safe to say that this low level has not been seen in Britain since before World War Two. Chris Wrigley's contribution to Manchester University Press's fine series on contemporary British history offers a timely collection of documents on the origin and development of these events. By design, this collection focuses on documents generated by the government, political parties, and private interest groups, most notably the Trades Union Congress (TUC). Thus six of the book's nine chapters provide a chronological overview of the vagaries of the British government's industrial relations policies during the postwar era, adequately supplemented with extracts from official TUC responses. Wrigley himself provides an effective and thoughtful editorial introduction that emphasizes not only just how precarious the trade unions' former position actually was, but also just how deep resentments against unions ran among certain sections of the Conservative party.

THE ARMORED BUBBLE: MILITARY MEMOIRS FROM APARTHEID'S WARRIORS Hilton Hamann. Days of the Generals: The Untold Story of South Africa's Apartheid-Era Military Generals. Cape Town: Zebra Press, 2006 (2001). xvii + 242 pp. Photographs. Glossary. Select Bibliography. Index. $19.95. Paper. Preview available on Google books. Clive Holt. At Thy Cry We Did Not Falter: A Frontline Account of the 1988 Angolan War, as seen through the Eyes of a Conscripted Soldier, Cape Town: Zebra Press, 2005. xii + 194 pp. Photographs. Glossary. $19,95. Paper, Preview available on Google books. Piet Nortje. 32 Batallion: The Inside Story of South Africa's Elite Fighting Unit. Cape Town: Zebra Press, 2003. xviii +315 pp. Photographs. Maps. Bibliography. Index. $18.95. Paper. Preview available on Google books. Peter Stiff. The Silent War: South African Recce Operations, 1969-1994. Johannesburg: Galago Publishing (www.galago.co.za), 2004 (Reprint with corrections). 608 pp. Photographs. Maps. Charts. Bibliography. Notes. Index. $42.00. Paper. Peter Stiff. Warfare by Other Means: South Africa in the 1980s and 1990s. Johannesburg: Galago Publishing, 2001. 600 pp. Photographs. Charts. Bibliography. Notes, Index. $45.00. Cloth. Peter Stiff. The Covert War: Koevoet Operations Namibia, 1979-1989. Johannesburg: Galago Publishing, 2004. 512 pp. Photographs. Maps. Charts. Bibliography. Notes, Index. $45.00. Cloth. Cassinga Day-May 4-is a national holiday in Namibia, commemorating the 1978 attack in which South African troops killed more than six hundred Namibians at a SWAPO camp in Angola. South Africa's Truth Commission called it "one of the biggest single incidents of gross [human rights] violations" they considered (Truth and Reconciliation Commission Report, vol. 2, p. 3). For many veterans of the South African military, however, it is still celebrated as the largest paratroop drop since World War II and "a complete success," with "at least 608 SWAPO fighters killed" and only four dead among the attackers (Stiff, Silent War, 205). The Truth Commission's careful review acknowledged that the camp was both a military and civilian installation and that many details were still uncertain, but it concluded that there was little doubt that many of the dead were civilian women and children. The commisioners note that they find it difficult to believe that this would have happened had the targets been white (Truth and Reconciliation Commission Report, vol. 2, p. 43). But the controversy continues, illustrating the still widely divergent perspectives on the battles of apartheid's final years. The books reviewed in this essay are a small sample of one genre of war literature: detailed accounts of battle from the perspective of those among South Africa's military veterans who have no question that they were fighting a just cause in defense of their country. Significantly, this kind of book features prominently on displays in airports in Southern Africa. None of these authors defends the apartheid system; indeed, as far as one can gather from these books, none ever did. And they are indignant that anyone should doubt the integrity and professionalism of the South African forces. "The idea for this book," writes Hilton Hamann (xi), "came about when my youngest son, after watching a television news broadcast, said to me 'Dad, when you were in the army, why did you kill all those innocent people?'" "I was flabbergasted," Hamann continues. "The SADF I was part of was an organisation that operated according to rules, traditions and codes of conduct." The other authors all reflect similar sentiments. Hamann was conscripted into the South African Defense Forces (SADF) in 1975 and served in the South African conventional forces in Angola that year. He later became the military correspondent for the Sunday Times, wrote for Soldier of Fortune magazine, and traveled with the SADF, Unita, and South Africa's special forces. …

The New York Public Library’s considerable collection of John Cheever correspondence and literary papers is housed in two of the library’s divisions: The Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection of English and American Literature, and the Manuscripts and Archives Division.1 I have discussed at length the Berg Collection of Cheever letters (RALS 25.1). I will focus in this article on the Cheever archives2 that are part of four collections within the Manuscripts and Archives Division: The New Yorker Records, the Herbert Mitgang Papers, the Ecco Press Records, and the Alec Wilder Collection. Because of the great volume of these Cheever archives, I have divided this article into two parts: the first part describes The New Yorker’s editorial correspondence with John Cheever through World War II to the end of the 1945. The second part, to be published in RALS 27.2, continues with the remaining editorial correspondence, from 1946, and includes the other three manuscript collections. The enormous New Yorker Records ca. 1924–84, which the library acquired as a gift of The New Yorker magazine in 1991, runs to 875.8 linear feet, comprising 2,566 archival boxes. Of this total, only two boxes, 1302 and 1303, labeled “Eccentrics, 1969–1976,” are restricted until 2050. The Records’ boxes are divided into nine series groupings, as follows

There are advantages to focusing a single analytical lens on a complex and multidimensional historical event. Lines of causation can be drawn clearly. Intention, action, and consequence can be isolated and explored in depth. This is what Daniel Kryder has done for federal policy toward African Americans during World War II. A political scientist, Kryder looks at African Americans in war production industries, the army, and southern agriculture in the context of two overriding imperatives of officials of the federal state: maintaining wartime production and gaining reelection. He moves to the heart of what states do in wartime. They mobilize industry and people. They suppress dissent. They contain social unrest. Given these demands it is not surprising, Kryder argues, that reform of federal racial policy between 1941 and 1945 was so limited in scope, despite widespread black protest, calls for more progressive measures, and the popular “Double V” campaign. But there are also pitfalls to the single analytical lens, and Kryder encounters these in his conclusion. From one point of view, “the war contained rather than facilitated movements for black liberation” (243), as Kryder argues, but from another vantage the war told an entirely different story.