Some shots of
Les Francs-tireurs et partisans - main-d'œuvre immigrée (Ftp-Moi),
were a sub-group – formed by communist immigrats – of the Francs-tireurs et partisans (Ftp) organization, a component of the French Resistance. A wing composed mostly of foreigners, the Moi maintained an armed force to oppose the German occupation of France during World War II, with connections with Pcf.
1) Porpaganda poster of Ftpf (Francs-Tireurs et Partisans Français)
2) Portrait of Boris Holban,
of Ftp-Moi in Paris
3) Testament, the autobiografy of Boris Holban
Henri Rol-Tanguy, leader of Ftp
5) Missak Manouchian
Boczor, leaders of Ftp-Moi in Paris
It’s no coincidence that every action hero from James Bond to Generic Murder Dude #367 in the beginning of Assassin’s Creed: American Boogaloo has found themselves sneaking around theaters and operas. They are creepy places even when the actors are on stage and the seats are packed with condescending tuxedo-wearing fuckers.
Where it gets really disturbing, however, is when the seats are empty and the doors are locked. That’s when villains like the Phantom of the Opera or Sander Cohen from BioShock crawl out of the woodwork. Villains, that is, who are precisely like you. Unfortunately, it’s not like abandoned horror movie theaters are just hanging around, ready for the taking, except, that is, for the Orpheum Theatre in New Bedford, Massachusetts.
“Man, I don’t know,” I hear you saying. “It certainly looks adequately scary, and I could definitely see myself settling down in the place and wandering its corridors wearing a mask and holding a giant mallet that makes sparks as I drag it across the floor. But I just stole all these orangutans from the zoo, and I’ve been meaning to teach them to use the miniguns I’ve had laying around since the Lyon heist. They’d wreck the interior within minutes.” To which I say: Don’t worry, the Orpheum has it all. Turns out the official name of the place is “La Salle Francs Tireurs,” or “French Sharpshooters Hall.” It combines the European tradition of enjoying the fine arts with the American tradition of shooting the shit out of everything, by which I mean that it’s a theater that also has a gun range.
Rare pictures of me in my professional role, giving a talk at a conference in Toulouse. The colours came out in a weird way. Howard’s and Boggi ties, Les Francs Tireurs blue suit, Lanieri and Clotilde Ranno shirts, Visconti pen.
Ferry Captain Shot by Germans for Attempting to Ram U-Boat
Capt. Charles Fryatt (1872 - 1916)
July 27 1916, Bruges–The Germans had continually violated prize rules when attacking merchant shipping, often sinking them with little or no warning. As a result, Churchill, when still head of the Admiralty, had notified merchant captains that they could also ignore prize rules when it came to submarines; submariners were essentially to be treated as criminals, rather than as enemy sailors subject to the usual rules of war.
On March 28, 1915 (the same day as the sinking of the Falaba), the SS Brussels, serving as a ferry from Harwich to Hook of Holland (in the neutral Netherlands), was signalled to stop by U-33. Understandably fearful that U-33 would sink his vessel, quite possibly before giving his passengers a chance to evacuate, Captain Charles Fryatt ordered his ship to full speed in an attempt to ram the submarine. The submarine barely escaped after a crash dive, and the Brussels safely made it to her destination. Even if the Germans had been universally following prize rules to the letter, it would not have been clear that Fryatt had done anything wrong under international law. For his quick thinking, Fryatt was awarded a gold watch by the Admiralty with the inscription “Presented by the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty to Chas. Algernon Fryatt Master of the S.S. ‘Brussels’ in recognition of the example set by that vessel when attacked by a German submarine on March 28th, 1915.”
On June 25, when departing the Netherlands, the Brussels was intercepted by two German torpedo boats, with assistance from signals from the shore or perhaps even from the boat itself. The ship was taken to German-occupied Zeebrugge. The Germans found Fryatt’s watch on his person, and determined to make an example of him. In their view, as a non-combatant who took action against a German ship, he was essentially a franc-tireur, against whom the harshest action should be taken.
On July 27, he was given a summary trial in Bruges Town Hall and quickly found guilty. He was executed by firing squad at 7PM that day, and the following notice was printed:
NOTICE. The English captain of a merchant ship, Charles Fryatt, of Southampton, though he did not belong to the armed forces of the enemy, attempted on March 28th, 1915, to destroy a German submarine by running it down. For this he has been condemned to death by judgment this day of the Field Court Martial of the Naval Corps, and has been executed. A ruthless deed has thus been avenged, belatedly but just.
Signed VON SCHRÖDER, Admiral Commandant of the Naval Corps, Bruges, July 27th, 1916
Reaction in Britain was understandably outraged. Neutral countries, too, were incredibly alarmed; a Geneva paper wrote “It is monstrous to maintain that armed forces have a right to murder civilians but that civilians are guilty of a crime in defending themselves.”