What do Josef Stalin, Prague and Sir Ian McKellen have in common?
- marklar1824
- Nov 23, 2021
- 6 min read
Updated: Aug 27
I know, I know. You’ve been asked this question thousands of times...and the answer? Stompie! Bermondsey’s very own domesticated war machine.
Most people that I know won’t be too surprised to find a tank featuring early on in this blog. I find them fascinating and, to be frank, quite bizarre. Man's determination to cause harm upon one another knows no limits and creating 50-tonne steel, tracked beasts capable of charging up to 60mph is a perfect example of this. Leonardo Da Vinci conceptualised a tank way back in the 15th century would you believe! Since then, we’ve had the flame-throwing Churchill Crocodile, the miniature remote-controlled explosive Goliath and the Maus, a curiously named 180-tonne beast (that, by the way, is almost as heavy as the Statue of Liberty). However, of all the oddities of the tank kingdom, Stompie may be the most unique. How on earth did this Russian icon find itself sat in the understated Mandela Way, just off the A201 in London?
A Star is Forged
Stompie’s breed of tank is famous among historical professionals and buffs alike. Granted, that’s not too large a percentage of the population so, for those understandably less consumed by the variety of tanks and their nuances - it’s a Russian T-34/85 and far as tanks go, the T-34 is iconic.
Fitting to the stereotype, German engineering in the Second World War was, in some regards, masterful. With it proving almost invincible in the early stages of the Second World War, the T-34 was both timely and ingenious in its development. Russia is perhaps the unsung hero of technological advancement. Perhaps, in part, due to the secrecy in the Soviet regime or, more likely, because the West prefers to view its Capitalist advances in this sphere through rose (though I must emphasise not Communist-red) tinted glasses. The same country that gave us the first cosmonauts also gave us helicopters, television, electrical transformers, solar cells, modern oil wells, the largest ever bomb (Tsar bomb, check it out, it’s big), nuclear power plants and even Tetris.
The T-34 was by no means perfect. A harsh ride, extremely difficult to escape from in an emergency, and fitted with poisonous fire extinguishers; a Rolls-Royce it most certainly was not. However, its versatility, ease of manufacture and combination of meaty firepower and revolutionary sloped armour meant it was a superb and essential counter. 64,549 (...roughly) were built in the Second World War, making it comfortably the most produced tank in those years and of those, 44,900 were lost. Now, that doesn’t sound like a great ratio, but it’s worth bearing in mind that even with those losses, the unbelievable number produced far outweighs those destroyed. By contrast, only 1,300 of the Porsche-built (yes, that Porsche) Tiger I of recent Fury fame were produced. In one engagement in France in 1944, one of these Tigers destroyed fourteen British tanks, two anti-tank guns, and thirteen transport vehicles, all in less than fifteen minutes. One tank. Seems unfair, really. But, for their potency, there simply weren’t enough. At Stalingrad, T-34s were rolling off the production lines straight into the front, crewed by the tractor factory employees who had just assembled them and without a paint job, such was the speed and ease of their construction. Production continued in Poland and Czechoslovakia until 1958, making it the 2nd most-produced of all time.
Post-War
To quote famous philosopher Harvey Dent, (Two-Face in Batman): “You either die a hero; or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain”. Unfortunately for Stompie and his/her...its(?) family, this quote fits perfectly. The heroism associated with the T-34 and Russian efforts in the Second World War were swiftly replaced by oppression and fear. Churchill’s speech in 1946 described how an iron curtain has descended across the continent. Behind this ‘curtain’, various European states joined both an economic community called Comecon (not the Marvel kind) and the NATO-rivalling Warsaw Pact. These alliances gave security and anticipated prosperity to the member states, however, at the heavy price of Russian and Communist influence. The Czech Republic, then the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic, was one of these countries that endured not just Soviet military occupation but adoption of their political and domestic policies, too.
By 1960, enthusiasm for communism, genuine or not, was fading. Discontent was growing; the Czechoslovakian economy was not. Various attempted economic reforms failed and the country experienced food shortages, inflation and falling living standards - the workers, as so often in history, bore the brunt of these. A glimmer of hope for progression and reform arrived in the form of a chap called Alexander Dubček. He replaced a more Stalinist chap called Antonin Novotný as leader in 1968. Though a dedicated communist, Dubček wanted more relaxed policies, or, “socialism with a human face”. I very much wonder what on earth that face would look like...heavy rouge and rosacea? With these reforms the population grew optimistic. Freedom of speech became less taboo, censorship was reduced, opposition political parties were legalised and the secret police that enforced the previous harsher rules had its remit and power diminished - this was The Prague Spring. Sounds like it’s going well? Correct. End of the story? Don’t be silly.
Despite poor old Dubček stressing he wanted to continue in Comecon and the Warsaw Pact, the Soviets couldn’t run the risk of one of their crew becoming Westernised. When 100 holiday makers carrying lilos, straw hats and semi-automatic pistols turned out to be KGB officials, control of Prague airport was seized and a Russian airborne force was ushered in. It’s unlikely that Stompie flew in, although the thought conjures excellent Dumbo comparisons. No, more likely it was one of 2,000 tanks and 200,000 Warsaw pact land forces that invaded across the border. Tanks rolled down the streets of Prague unopposed, 137 Czechs and Slovaks were killed, hundreds wounded and 300,000 highly qualified people fled the country. The end result was a reversal in reforms, Dubček ousted and liberals purged from the party - repression complete.
The Final Journey
Still with me? As a reward, let's talk about Sir Ian McKellan. Remember? I mentioned him at the start and now it’s all coming together. After the Cold War finished (debatable if it ever did), there was a surplus of out-of-date military equipment. Stompie was an example of this and was actually shipped over to the UK. It made its debut performance as an extra in the time-altering visual cacophony that was the 1995 adaptation of Richard III. A film that both starred and had the screenplay written by...Sir Ian McKellan!
Stompie was purchased by a local tank-loving resident, Russell Gray, for £7,000. Like every good war machine, it was initially a present for his 7-year-old son, Rhys. Gray, a property developer, owned the land in Mandela Way and wanted to build on it. After some disagreements with the local council, he was refused the planning permission. So, the planning application changed to a ‘tank’. Septic, water, gas...battle? It wasn’t specified, and the council didn’t bother to check. And lo and behold, Stompie took residence in its garden where it's been ever since. The only thing that’s changed, other than its paint scheme, is the turret position. Initially, as a gentle middle finger to the council, the gun was angled towards their offices. A not-so-subtle, menacing nod for them to be a little more thorough when reviewing planning permission!
Penny for a thought?
Stompie is a strange find. It would struggle to look more out of place just plonked at the bottom of a quiet residential terraced road. I like the symbolism, though. I find it deliciously ironic. It was a machine of war, used to terrorise and deprive a nation of its voice and freedom of art, literature and thought. It instilled fear and resentment. It oppressed. Now, it’s an art project. Free for creators to express themselves however they deem fit. It’s been a tiger, a zebra, a tribute to the NHS, a golden robot-war resistance fighter (yep), and, perhaps most significantly, a celebration of love and acceptance. Oh, how the mighty
fall.
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