They Stormed The Beaches—With Bikes

 Today is D-Day.

On this date in 1944, Allied forces landed on the beaches of Normandy, France. This daring operation is cited as the door that opened to liberating France and, ultimately, western Europe from Nazi occupation.

The Allies included, among others, American, British and Canadian soldiers, sailors and airmen.  Don’t ever forget the Canadians:  Military strategists and historians have long praised their tenacity and steadfastness.

Like other troops, the Canadians had their weapons: guns, explosives, bayonets—and bicycles.

About 1000 “paratrooper” bikes accompanied Canadian forces on D-Day. Most were left behind when the soldiers were deployed to other fields, sent home or died. Locals picked them up and used them up. Therefore, the one in the photo—in the collection of the Juno Beach Centre, the Canadian museum near the landing beach—is one of the few that survive.

It was issued to Sherbrooke, Quebec Marius Aubé, who served with the Royal Canadian Army Service Corps. He befriended a local farm family and when he departed, he gave the bike to Christian Costil, the family’s 14-year-old son.  He used it on the farm and, later, on his rounds as a meter reader. from which he retired in 1985.

The bike also kindled a lifelong friendship that included letters which were donated, along with the bike, to the museum after Costil died in November 2020.

Even without such a back-story, that bike is interesting. For one thing, Birmingham Small Arms—BSA—made it.  As their name suggests, they also supplied the British and Canadian forces with firearms.

As you can see from the photo, there are two large wing nuts in the middle of the frame. This allowed the bike to fold, and the trooper to hold it close as he disembarked from a ship, marched—or parachuted. For the latter maneuver, a soldiers would lower the bikes so it hit the ground before he did. That would cushion the impact somewhat and the soldier simply had to straighten the wheel and tighten the wing nuts before pedaling away.

They Were Sooo Continental

You don't wear Continental clothes or a Stetson hat!

That line comes from Otis Redding's Tramp.  The song is an argument between a woman and Otis.  She accuses him of being a tramp because, as she says, he's "straight out of the Georgia woods". 

 

 

We in the United States of America are as continental--in the literal sense of that word--as anyone in the world.  After all, we occupy a large part of the North American continent.  However, when we say "Continental", we use it in the way the British mean it:  of mainland Europe, particularly France, Italy or Germany.

Even though we Yanks like to think we tossed off the yoke of the British crown, it seems that we still emulate them in every way we can.  We speak their language. We may have a different accent, but so often, we mean it the way they do--sometimes even more so.

And so it is with the adjective "continental".  It not only refers to the geographical location; it also has the connotation of "sophisticated", "refined" or "elegant".  Or it can be just a politically correct way of saying "exotic" or a polite way of saying "sexy".  And here, as in Blighty, it is also a way of saying "French" without saying it.  (Hmm...What if "Freedom Fries" were called "Continental Chips"?)

That latter connotation was commonly employed in British cycle advertising just after World War II. Before the big fight, the worlds of British cycling and the British cycling industry were very insular.  Brits thought, as Americans would in the years just after the war, that if it was made in their country, it must be better. 

In some cases, their biases had at least some basis in truth.  Pre-war Schwinn Paramounts were built from Accles and Pollock tubing; all over the world, some of the finest frames have been, and still are, constructed from Reynolds tubesets.  Six-day racers favored BSA components, particularly their cranks, pedals and hubs; town bicycles all over the world were equipped with Sturmey Archer hubs and, to this day, all manner of bikes in every place imaginable sport Brooks saddles.

However, for all the vibrancy of the club-cycling scene, bicycling in Britain was still, in the main, utilitarian.  On the other hand, France, Italy and other countries on "The Continent" had lively cultures of racing, and many people, at least superficially, emulated the riders of the peloton.    It is said that British service members who fought on "The Continent" brought back a taste for Contiental bikes and parts--as well as other things.

British Cyclo Gears with 1/8" chain

British cyclists started to demand bikes with derailleurs.  However, until 1954, Raleigh did not supply any bikes with them.  And, in 1955 British Cyclo were still making most of their cogs for 1/8" chains, even though increasing demand for three- and four-speed freewheels meant that more and more riders wanted and needed cogs for 3/32" chains.  Other bike and parts manufacturers in Britain were slow to respond to those changes.  In fact, some simply continued to offer the same products the were making before the war, as if it were somehow unpatriotic to pattern new products after, let alone offer, the freewheels, derailleurs and such that were made mainly in France.

Once they started to make or import (as Ron Kitching did) those items, they were still loath to make Gallic references.  So, those items--particularly, for some reason, large-flange hubs--were called "Continental" parts.  In an article he wrote on the Classic Lightweights UK site, Steve Griffiths said this habit may have been inspired by the Prior hubs made in France during the 1930s, which had some of the largest flanges (and most profuse drilling) ever seen. 

Prior Hubs. I love them.  Did someone use Spirograph to design them?

The flanges on that hub were riveted to smaller flanges which, as on most hubs at the time, were attached to a steel shaft.  So, the British Hub Company did the same with their Airlite hubs.   Collectors pay more for Priors and Airlite Continentals than most people pay for bikes.  They look interesting and, from what I've read, they spin smoothly. However, they both share a problem:  Prolonged use can loosen the rivets.

They're Continental, all right.  So is Swiss cheese.

 

GI Bike

I am not what anybody would call a "war buff."  And I don't get into the jingoistic self-congratulations that mark too many commemorations of armed conflicts and their combattants.  

On the other hand, I do understand that war cannot be separated from history, and that many valuable lessons can be learned from studying the strategies and mistakes of various military leaders, as well as the effects war has on people who aren't directly involved in the fighting.  And, I must say, it does make me a little sad to realize that most World War II veterans are dead or dying.  It's something I realized today, when I saw a ceremony commemorating the anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor.  A few veterans were present; I think the median age was around 92 or so.

In thinking about the 71st anniversary of the deadliest attack this country would experience until the ones on 9/11, I looked at some images of--you guessed it--military bikes and soldiers on bikes.

The US Armed Forces never designated official bicycle patrols for World War II.  However, soldiers, sailors and airmen used bicycles in a variety of ways during the war.  Here is a patrol in Hawaii:

From The Liberator

They are riding official US Army bicycles made by Westfield Manufacturing Corporation, a.k.a., Columbia.  Here is one, close-up:

Some of the bikes were painted entirely in olive drab, as this one was.  Others had blacked-out hubs, handlebars, cranks and other parts that would have been chromed prior to the war.

Huffman Manufacturing Co (a.k.a. Huffy) made a nearly-identical model that was also commissioned by the Army.  However, Huffy did not make a women's model, as Columbia did.  Columbia also made a folding version of the bike.

Not surprisingly, the Japanese also made extensive use of bicycles during the war (which, technically, began in 1931, when they invaded Manchuria).  Here is a Japanese bicycle patrol in the Phillipines:

From Hyperwar

Perhaps even less surprising is the fact that the British armed forces used bicycles in warfare--or that Birmingham Small Arms (BSA) made a folding bike for the troops.

Interestingly, before the War,  BSA bicycle components were the ones most widely used by racers, including those in the Tour de France.  And, yes, the company is the same one that made BSA motorcycles, which were the world's most popular before Japanese makers took most of their market.