Littérature scientifique sur le sujet « Air Raid Wardens' Service »

The main focus of this article is on the war-stricken ecology of World War II and the notable role played by Indian women as Air Raid Precaution Wardens. They gave their unmatched services in the air raid–prone areas and earned a name. However, until the close of the war, they were reduced to not more than ‘comfort women’ for British officers and soldiers. Simultaneously, the article explains how the women’s influential roles are sidelined by giving too much preference to the topic such as rape, abduction and war crimes against women. The critics and historians remain busy in criticising other armies on the atrocities inflicted upon women by them. The conclusion exposes the double standard of the academic world: first, they criticise Japan over the issue of ‘comfort women’, but they close their eyes towards Indian women. The article explains how the British too exploited Indian women, but they remain hidden from the eyes of critics due to their gentlemen status.

The goal of this paper is to present the origin, development, and technical parameters of the Postal Time Service, which was established in the capital of Czechoslovakia – Prague, gradually in the years 1933–1935. It also examines the options for determining “public time” in the period before the establishment of this service. In the second part, the text deals with the question of the use of the Postal Time Service infrastructure as an essential part of the air raid alarm siren system. The emergence of this system will be set in the broader context of the deteriorating security and political situation in Central Europe in the second half of the 1930s. In addition to the technical aspects of the warning system itself, the text will also introduce its author, Prof. František Rieger of the College of Mechanical and Electrical Engineering of the Czech Technical University in Prague, and the practical tests of the device, which took place in 1936 and 1937.

The Airport Operation Landside and Terminal unit is one of the service units at Yogyakarta International Airport, the Airport Operation Landside and Terminal unit has the task of supervising operational activities from the air side and land side covering all arrival and departure activities and checking service facilities for service users and providing all forms of information at Yogyakarta International Airport. The Airport Operation Landside and Terminal Unit took part in handling the earthquake and tsunami emergency at Yogyakarta International Airport, this was based on the work instructions (IK) made by PT. Angkasa Pura 1 to provide temporary assistance to users of Yogyakarta international airport services, both by providing information services regarding the occurrence of earthquakes and tsunamis, directing evacuation routes, and providing peace of mind to airport service users so that they feel safe, these officers are usually called Floors. Warden. This research uses qualitative research methods using data collection techniques including observation by conducting observations in the airport area, interviews with 3 sources including the Airport Operation Landside and Terminal Manager (YIA.OL), Passenger Service Supervisor (PSS) and Terminal Service Officer (TSO) and documentation using data analysis techniques in the form of data collection, data reduction, data presentation, and drawing conclusions. The research results showed that airport operation landside and terminal officers at the time of the earthquake and tsunami emergency carried out their duties by referring to Work Instructions (IK), had been provided with education and simulations about handling emergencies, emergency support facilities were available, but still There are obstacles in the process of handling emergencies, such as a lack of floor wardens, minimal safety tools available, and damage to service operational support facilities due to the aftermath of the earthquake. Despite the obstacles that occur, floor warden officers continue to carry out their responsibilities to the maximum in order to create safety for all users of Yogyakarta international airport services.

In PilsenTwenty-six Station Road,She climbed to the third floorUp stairs which were all that was leftOf the whole house,She opened her doorFull on to the sky,Stood gaping over the edge.For this was the placeThe world ended.Thenshe locked up carefullylest someone stealSiriusor Aldebaranfrom her kitchen,went back downstairsand settled herselfto waitfor the house to rise againand for her husband to rise from the ashesand for her children’s hands and feet to be stuck back in placeIn the morning they found herstill as stone, sparrows pecking her hands.Five Minutes after the Air Raidby Miroslav Holub(Calder 287) Holding Still Detonation. Affect. During the Second World War, London and other European cities were subjected to the terrors of aerial bombardment, rendered through nightmarish anticipations of the bomber (Gollin 7) and the material storm of the real air-raid. The fall of bombs plagued cities and their citizens with the terrible rain of explosives and incendiary weapons. A volatile landscape was formed as the urban environment was ‘unmade’ and urged into violent motion. Flying projectiles of shrapnel, debris and people; avalanches of collapsing factories and houses; the inhale and exhale of compressed air and firestorms; the scream of the explosion. All these composed an incredibly fluid urban traumatic, as atmospheres fell over the cities that was thick with smoke, dust, and ventilated only by terror (see for instance Sebald 10 and Mendieta’s 3 recent commentary). Vast craters were imprinted onto the charred morphologies of London and Berlin as well as Coventry, Hamburg and Dresden. Just as the punctuations of the bombing saw the psychic as well as the material give way, writers portraying Britain as an ‘volcano island’ (Spaight 5) witnessed eruptive projections – the volleys of the material air-war; the emotional signature of charged and bitter reprisals; pain, anguish and vengeance - counter-strikes of affect. In the midst of all of this molten violence and emotion it seems impossible that a simultaneous sense of quiescence could be at all possible. More than mere physical fixity or geographical stasis, a rather different sort of experience could take place. Preceding, during and following the excessive mobilisation of an air raid, ‘stillness’ was often used to describe certain plateuing stretches of time-space which were slowed and even stopped (Anderson 740). Between the eruptions appeared hollows of calm and even boredom. People’s nervous flinching under the reverberation of high-explosive blasts formed part of what Jordan Crandall might call a ‘bodily-inclination’ position. Slackened and taut feelings condensed around people listening out for the oncoming bomber. People found that they prepared for the dreadful wail of the siren, or relaxed in the aftermath of the attack. In these instances, states of tension and apprehension as well as calm and relief formed though stillness. The peculiar experiences of ‘stillness’ articulated in these events open out, I suggest, distinctive ways-of-being which undo our assumptions of perpetually fluid subjectivities and the primacy of the ‘body in motion’ even within the context of unparalleled movement and uncertainty (see Harrison 423 and also Rose and Wylie 477 for theoretical critique). The sorts of “musics of stillness and silence able to be discovered in a world of movement” (Thrift, Still 50), add to our understandings of the material geographies of war and terror (see for instance Graham 63; Gregory and Pred 3), whilst they gesture towards complex material-affective experiences of bodies and spaces. Stillness in this sense, denotes apprehending and anticipating spaces and events in ways that sees the body enveloped within the movement of the environment around it; bobbing along intensities that course their way through it; positioned towards pasts and futures that make themselves felt, and becoming capable of intense forms of experience and thought. These examples illustrate not a shutting down of the body to an inwardly focused position – albeit composed by complex relations and connections – but bodies finely attuned to their exteriors (see Bissell, Animating 277 and Conradson 33). In this paper I draw from a range of oral and written testimony archived at the Imperial War Museum and the Mass Observation wartime regular reports. Edited publications from these collections were also consulted. Detailing the experience of aerial bombing during the Blitz, particularly on London between September 1940 to May 1941, forms part of a wider project concerning the calculative and affective dimensions of the aeroplane’s relationship with the human body, especially through the spaces it has worked to construct (infrastructures such as airports) and destroy. While appearing extraordinary, the examples I use are actually fairly typical of the patternings of experience and the depth and clarity with which they are told. They could be taken to be representative of the population as a whole or coincidentally similar testimonials. Either way, they are couched within a specific cultural historical context of urgency, threat and unparalleled violence.Anticipations The complex material geographies of an air raid reveal the ecological interdependencies of populations and their often urban environments and metabolisms (Coward 419; Davis 3; Graham 63; Gregory The Colonial 19; Hewitt Place 257). Aerial warfare was an address of populations conceived at the register of their bio-rhythmical and metabolic relationship to their milieu (Adey). The Blitz and the subsequent Allied bombing campaign constituted Churchill’s ‘great experiment’ for governments attempting to assess the damage an air raid could inflict upon a population’s nerves and morale (Brittain 77; Gregory In Another 88). An anxious and uncertain landscape constructed before the war, perpetuated by public officials, commentators and members of parliament, saw background affects (Ngai 5) of urgency creating an atmosphere that pressurised and squeezed the population to prepare for the ‘gathering storm’. Attacks upon the atmosphere itself had been readily predicted in the form of threatening gas attacks ready to poison the medium upon which human and animal life depended (Haldane 111; Sloterdijk 41-57). One of the most talked of moments of the Blitz is not necessarily the action but the times of stillness that preceded it. Before and in-between an air raid stillness appears to describe a state rendered somewhere between the lulls and silences of the action and the warnings and the anticipatory feelings of what might happen. In the awaiting bodies, the materialites of silence could be felt as a kind-of-sound and as an atmospheric sense of imminence. At the onset of the first air-raids sound became a signifier of what was on the way (MO 408). Waiting – as both practice and sensation – imparted considerable inertia that went back and forth through time (Jeffrey 956; Massumi, Parables 3). For Geographer Kenneth Hewitt, sound “told of the coming raiders, the nearness of bombs, the plight of loved ones” (When the 16). The enormous social survey of Mass Observation concluded that “fear seems to be linked above all with noise” (original emphasis). As one report found, “It is the siren or the whistle or the explosion or the drone – these are the things that terrify. Fear seems to come to us most of all through our sense of hearing” (MO 378). Yet the power of the siren came not only from its capacity to propagate sound and to alert, but the warning held in its voice of ‘keeping silent’. “Prefacing in a dire prolepsis the post-apocalyptic event before the event”, as Bishop and Phillips (97) put it, the stillness of silence was incredibly virtual in its affects, disclosing - in its lack of life – the lives that would be later taken. Devastation was expected and rehearsed by civilians. Stillness formed a space and body ready to spring into movement – an ‘imminent mobility’ as John Armitage (204) has described it. Perched on the edge of devastation, space-times were felt through a sense of impending doom. Fatalistic yet composed expectations of a bomb heading straight down pervaded the thoughts and feelings of shelter dwellers (MO 253; MO 217). Waves of sound disrupted fragile tempers as they passed through the waiting bodies in the physical language of tensed muscles and gritted teeth (Gaskin 36). Silence helped form bodies inclined-to-attention, particularly sensitive to aural disturbances and vibrations from all around. Walls, floors and objects carried an urban bass-line of warning (Goodman). Stillness was forged through a body readied in advance of the violence these materialities signified. A calm and composed body was not necessarily an immobile body. Civilians who had prepared for the attacks were ready to snap into action - to dutifully wear their gas-mask or escape to shelter. ‘Backgrounds of expectation’ (Thrift, Still 36) were forged through non-too-subtle procedural and sequential movements which opened-out new modes of thinking and feeling. Folding one’s clothes and placing them on the dresser in-readiness; pillows and sheets prepared for a spell in the shelter, these were some of many orderly examples (IWM 14595). In the event of a gas attack air raid precautions instructions advised how to put on a gas mask (ARPD 90-92),i) Hold the breath. ii) Remove headgear and place between the knees. iii) Lift the flap of the haversack [ …] iv) Bring the face-piece towards the face’[…](v) Breathe out and continue to breathe in a normal manner The rational technologies of drill, dressage and operational research enabled poise in the face of an eventual air-raid. Through this ‘logistical-life’ (Reid 17), thought was directed towards simple tasks by minutely described instructions. Stilled LifeThe end of stillness was usually marked by a reactionary ‘flinch’, ‘start’ or ‘jump’. Such reactionary ‘urgent analogs’ (Ngai 94; Tomkins 96) often occurred as a response to sounds and movements that merely broke the tension rather than accurately mimicking an air raid. These atmospheres were brittle and easily disrupted. Cars back-firing and changing gear were often complained about (MO 371), just as bringing people out of the quiescence of sleep was a common effect of air-raids (Kraftl and Horton 509). Disorientation was usually fostered in this process while people found it very difficult to carry out the most simple of tasks. Putting one’s clothes on or even making their way out of the bedroom door became enormously problematic. Sirens awoke a ‘conditioned reflex’ to take cover (MO 364). Long periods of sleep deprivation brought on considerable fatigue and anxiety. ‘Sleep we Must’ wrote journalist Ritchie Calder (252) noticing the invigorating powers of sleep for both urban morale and the bare existence of survival. For other more traumatized members of the population, psychological studies found that the sustained concentration of shelling caused what was named ‘apathy-retreat’ (Harrisson, Living 65). This extreme form of acquiescence saw especially susceptible and vulnerable civilians suffer an overwhelming urge to sleep and to be cared-for ‘as if chronically ill’ (Janis 90). A class and racial politics of quiescent affect was enacted as several members of the population were believed far more liable to ‘give way’ to defeat and dangerous emotions (Brittain 77; Committee of Imperial Defence).In other cases it was only once an air-raid had started that sleep could be found (MO 253). The boredom of waiting could gather in its intensity deforming bodies with “the doom of depression” (Anderson 749). The stopped time-spaces in advance of a raid could be soaked with so much tension that the commencement of sirens, vibrations and explosions would allow a person overwhelming relief (MO 253). Quoting from a boy recalling his experiences in Hannover during 1943, Hewitt illustrates:I lie in bed. I am afraid. I strain my ears to hear something but still all is quiet. I hardly dare breathe, as if something horrible is knocking at the door, at the windows. Is it the beating of my heart? ... Suddenly there seems relief, the sirens howl into the night ... (Heimatbund Niedersachsen 1953: 185). (Cited in Hewitt, When 16)Once a state of still was lost getting it back required some effort (Bissell, Comfortable 1697). Cautious of preventing mass panic and public hysteria by allowing the body to erupt outwards into dangerous vectors of mobility, the British government’s schooling in the theories of panicology (Orr 12) and contagious affect (Le Bon 17; Tarde 278; Thrift, Intensities 57; Trotter 140), made air raid precautions (ARP) officers, police and civil defence teams enforce ‘stay put’ and ‘hold firm’ orders to protect the population (Jones et al, Civilian Morale 463, Public Panic 63-64; Thomas 16). Such orders were meant to shield against precisely the kinds of volatile bodies they were trying to compel with their own bombing strategies. Reactions to the Blitz were moralised and racialised. Becoming stilled required self-conscious work by a public anxious not to be seen to ‘panic’. This took the form of self-disciplination. People exhausted considerable energy to ‘settle’ themselves down. It required ‘holding’ themselves still and ‘together’ in order to accomplish this state, and to avoid going the same way as the buildings falling apart around them, as some people observed (MO 408). In Britain a cup of tea was often made as a spontaneous response in the event of the conclusion of a raid (Brown 686). As well as destroying bombing created spaces too – making space for stillness (Conradson 33). Many people found that they could recall their experiences in vivid detail, allocating a significant proportion of their memories to the recollection of the self and an awareness of their surroundings (IWM 19103). In this mode of stillness, contemplation did not turn-inwards but unfolded out towards the environment. The material processual movement of the shell-blast literally evacuated all sound and materials from its centre to leave a vacuum of negative pressure. Diaries and oral testimonies stretch out these millisecond events into discernable times and spaces of sensation, thought and the experience of experience (Massumi, Parables 2). Extraordinarily, survivors mention serene feelings of quiet within the eye of the blast (see Mortimer 239); they had, literally, ‘no time to be frightened’ (Crighton-Miller 6150). A shell explosion could create such intensities of stillness that a sudden and distinctive lessening of the person and world are expressed, constituting ‘stilling-slowing diminishments’ (Anderson 744). As if the blast-vacuum had sucked all the animation from their agency, recollections convey passivity and, paradoxically, a much more heightened and contemplative sense of the moment (Bourke 121; Thrift, Still 41). More lucid accounts describe a multitude of thoughts and an attention to minute detail. Alternatively, the enormous peaking of a waking blast subdued all later activities to relative obsolescence. The hurricane of sounds and air appear to overload into the flatness of an extended and calmed instantaneous present.Then the whistling stopped, then a terrific thump as it hit the ground, and everything seem to expand, then contract with deliberation and stillness seemed to be all around. (As recollected by Bill and Vi Reagan in Gaskin 17)On the other hand, as Schivelbusch (7) shows us in his exploration of defeat, the cessation of war could be met with an outburst of feeling. In these micro-moments a close encounter with death was often experienced with elation, a feeling of peace and well-being drawn through a much more heightened sense of the now (MO 253). These are not pre-formed or contemplative techniques of attunement as Thrift has tracked, but are the consequence of significant trauma and the primal reaction to extreme danger.TracesSusan Griffin’s haunting A Chorus of Stones documents what she describes as a private life of war (1). For Griffin, and as shown in these brief examples, stillness and being-stilled describe a series of diverse experiences endured during aerial bombing. Yet, as Griffin narrates, these are not-so private lives. A common representation of air war can be found in Henry Moore’s tube shelter sketches which convey sleeping tube-dwellers harboured in the London underground during the Blitz. The bodies are represented as much more than individuals being connected by Moore’s wave-like shapes into the turbulent aggregation of a choppy ocean. What we see in Moore’s portrayal and the examples discussed already are experiences with definite relations to both inner and outer worlds. They refer to more-than individuals who bear intimate relations to their outsides and the atmospheric and material environments enveloping and searing through them. Stillness was an unlikely state composed through these circulations just as it was formed as a means of address. It was required in order to apprehend sounds and possible events through techniques of listening or waiting. Alternatively being stilled could refer to pauses between air-strikes and the corresponding breaks of tension in the aftermath of a raid. Stillness was composed through a series of distributed yet interconnecting bodies, feelings, materials and atmospheres oriented towards the future and the past. The ruins of bombed-out building forms stand as traces even today. Just as Massumi (Sensing 16) describes in the context of architecture, the now static remainder of the explosion “envelops in its stillness a deformational field of which it stands as the trace”. The ruined forms left after the attack stand as a “monument” of the passing of the raid to be what it once was – house, factory, shop, restaurant, library - and to become something else. The experience of those ‘from below’ (Hewitt 2) suffering contemporary forms of air-warfare share many parallels with those of the Blitz. Air power continues to target, apparently more precisely, the affective tones of the body. Accessed by kinetic and non-kinetic forces, the signs of air-war are generated by the shelling of Kosovo, ‘shock and awe’ in Iraq, air-strikes in Afghanistan and by the simulated air-raids of IDF aircraft producing sonic-booms over sleeping Palestinian civilians, now becoming far more real as I write in the final days of 2008. Achieving stillness in the wake of aerial trauma remains, even now, a way to survive the (private) life of air war. AcknowledgementsI’d like to thank the editors and particularly the referees for such a close reading of the article; time did not permit the attention their suggestions demanded. Grateful acknowledgement is also made to the AHRC whose funding allowed me to research and write this paper. ReferencesAdey, Peter. Aerial Geographies: Mobilities, Bodies and Subjects. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010 (forthcoming). 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Durham and London: Duke U P, 2002.———. “Sensing the Virtual: Building the Insensible.” Architectural Design 68.5/6 (1998): 16-24Mendieta, Edwardo. “The Literature of Urbicide: Friedrich, Nossack, Sebald, and Vonnegut.” Theory and Event 10 (2007):MO 371. “Cars and Sirens.” Mass Observation Report. 27 Aug. 1940.MO 408. “Human Adjustments to Air Raids.” Mass Observation Report. 8 Sep. 1940.MO 253. “Air Raids.” Mass Observation Report. 5 July 1940.MO 217. “Air Raids.” Mass Observation Report. 21 June 1940.MO A14. “Shelters.” Mass Observation Report. [date unknown] 1940.MO 364. “Metropolitan Air Raids.” Mass Observation Report. 23 Aug. 1940.Mortimer, Gavin. The Longest Night. London: Orion, 2005.Ngai, Sianne. Ugly Feelings. Harvard: Harvard U P, 2005.Orr, Pauline. Panic Diaries. Durham and London: Duke U P, 2006.Reid, Julian. The Biopolitics of the War on Terror. 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Introduction Over the past two decades the Cairns landscape has transformed from a remote tourist town beside the Great Barrier Reef to an international, tropical city with a new focus on culture and the arts. A number of important urban design projects have enabled this transformation, including key waterfront redevelopments, the addition of a large shopping mall and convention centre, a renovated museum, and now a new performing arts precinct and proposed ‘gallery precinct’ for the people of Cairns to access new art forms and events. Anderson and Law (556) depict recent developments as a kind of “mayor’s trophy collection” or set of “must have” attractions Cairns needs to stay ‘competitive’. More generally they might be interpreted as ‘entrepreneurial urbanism’ (Harvey) and the attractors for Richard Florida’s creative class, although there is now more scepticism about how these projects fuel property speculation and benefit the middle classes rather than the ‘bohemians’ Florida saw as key to urban growth and transformation (Wainwright). The renovation of Munro Martin Park discussed here is a culture infrastructure project helping transform Cairns into the ‘arts and culture capital of the north’. Here we interrogate the winners and losers of the renovation, with a specific focus on how its heritage values are preserved. The identity of Cairns as an arts and culture hub is not new or unfounded, but the debate changed in emphasis with a proposed Cairns Entertainment Precinct (CEP) in 2011/2012. The then Mayor Val Schier had secured federal and state funding for the development of a $155 million arts precinct on the waterfront near the Cairns Port, as the city had outgrown its existing facilities at the nearby Cairns Civic Theatre and the venue was unable to host large performances. The CEP was to be a key cultural infrastructure project marking a new era of arts and culture activities in Cairns. The subsequent election became a referendum on the precinct, with its location and need being questioned. Bob Manning became the new Mayor with a mandate to scrap the CEP and instead renovate the existing Civic Theatre as part of a scaled-down vision. In 2016, the Cairns Civic Theatre was demolished to make way for a new Cairns Performing Arts Centre. The original Civic Theatre was constructed in the 1970s and was one of a small handful of buildings in Cairns designed in late Brutalist architectural style: its exterior walls were made of fluted grey concrete blocks. Popular from the 1950s to the 1970s, brutalist architecture celebrated Modernism translated into raw, exposed concrete. Despite a renewed popular interest in Brutalist buildings in many western cities, many “are being demolished and new, … homogenous (often glass and composite-clad) towers [are being] erected in their place” (Mould 701). The Cairns Civic Theatre was no exception. Munro Martin Park, directly across from the Cairns Civic Theatre, was folded into the plans for the area and the two were imagined together to form a new Cairns Performing Arts Precinct (CPAC). Munro Martin Park History Munro Martin Park (originally Norman Park) was gazetted as a recreational reserve for Cairns in 1882. The park was set aside soon after European settlement and became a space for outdoor recreation. Community attachment to the park grew over time as the park became known as a meeting place for sporting events, community celebrations, parades, and political rallies. Circuses began annual visits to the park from 1891 as it was the closest large area of open ground to the inner city. These physical features also facilitated other community events, such as public holiday celebrations including May Day and ANZAC Day. Attempts to beautify the park and create shade were made in the early 1880s and again in 1892. Trees were planted with the aim of establishing a botanical reserve, although many did not survive. Those that did – mangoes, figs, and other tropical species – created shade, provided fruit for eating fresh or making chutneys and sauces, and became roosts for local flying foxes and bats. A major change of use occurred when the park was taken over by the military during WWII, and it became a space for accommodation huts and military training. An Air Raids Precautions control centre was erected (today one of the few remaining examples, and heritage listed), and a radio tower. After the war the local authority had no control over the park until it was returned from the military. The park’s war infrastructure was mostly removed, and after the war the parkland was in decline and underutilised (Grimwade 21). Most sporting clubs had moved to new grounds and community gatherings were no longer associated with sporting events (Cairns Regional Council 804). In 1954 the Cairns community saw substantial redevelopment of the park with a bequest from well-regarded local philanthropists: the Munro Martin sisters. The Cairns City Council redeveloped and beautified the park and on completion it was renamed Munro Martin Park in recognition of the sisters. It quickly renewed its status as a place for community gatherings and organised events, and as a rallying point for parades and political protests. Although the park continued to be used, it was no longer the focus of sports, with the development of purpose-built sporting fields on the southside of town. Much of the passive activity in the park began moving to the Cairns Esplanade in the early 1960s, with multi-purpose recreation areas and a large open saltwater swimming baths. This trend continued as the land along the Esplanade was reclaimed from mudflats and turned into areas for recreation and swimming (McKenzie et al. 113). By 2014 no major work had been undertaken in the park for some time, and it again became underutilised. A report by Grimwade evaluating the park’s condition found much of the infrastructure in disrepair. While it was still used by circuses, festivals, May Day celebrations and political rallies, the group most often found there were homeless Indigenous people. Plans to redevelop the park once again occurred in 2015, and these were folded into the CPAC vision. Fig. 1: Aerial image of Munro Martin Park, 1970. (Source: Cairns Historical Society image P291110.) Fig. 2: Aerial image of Munro Martin Park, 2018. (Source: Creative Life – Cairns Regional Council.) Winners and Losers After its renovation and re-opening in 2016, Munro Martin Park became a new public space with an art focus for the Cairns community. It is beautifully landscaped and entices new audiences to enjoy the arts, including families who find it a safe and secure environment for leisure. The barriers often associated with entering arts and culture venues are displaced by egalitarian outdoor seating on blankets, and programming and casting are demographically inclusive, which in turn entices a diverse audience. In this way the park is important to community life, offers health benefits and social interactions, and is a place that welcomes regardless of social standing (Slater and Koo 99). At the same time, the new space reflects neoliberal sensibilities in regard to safety and anti-social behaviour, as the park reflects a wider city branding exercise for Cairns (Mercer and Mayfield 508). The need for controlled ticketing, for example, means the park is now fenced with restricted access. Prior to its renovation the park was a safe haven and meeting and waiting place for those travelling from Indigenous communities in Cape York and the Torres Strait Islands to Cairns. It was frequented by Rosie’s, a local charity providing meals for the homeless, and many used it as a place to sleep (Dalton, Cairns Post). These communities are now locked out during performances and every night at sunset (CCTV ensures they do not remain). This is unfortunate as the park is underutilised on a day-to-day basis as performances are sporadic; this is partly because it is costly to rent and access for community events. In this way the public space of the park has become commodified as part of a new political economy of the city and displaced its use as a refuge for the alienated or excluded. In other words, the park’s renovation raises familiar questions about the ‘right to the city’ (Marcuse). The park had been a place where people could just ‘be’ or dwell, but this was inevitably associated with homelessness (Mitchell 123). It is not uncommon for different groups of people to claim the same site at different times of the day. The important thing is that the users feel a strong enough connection and that it reflects their cultural or social needs so that they are likely to use the place (Barnes et al.). In addition to the displacement of a homeless community, the park also lost significant heritage trees that had survived from the late 1800s. Local environmental activists protested by sitting in – and refusing to come down from – some of the trees as the renovation commenced (Power, Cairns Post). The trees expressed heritage value but were also home to endangered bat colonies (Queensland Department of Environment and Resource Management). Although Munro Martin Park trees are not the only flying fox habitats, their loss has contributed to their demise. On the other hand, and through the park’s addition of new trees, tropical plants and elaborate vined arbours, the park is an award-winning showcase of tropical urban greenery evoking civic pride. This revitalisation and beautification creates opportunities for new community attachments to place through new sensory perceptions (Hashemnezhad et al. 7). Community attachment to Munro Martin Park and its related social value has thus changed over time. The park’s social value, as understood by the Burra Charter, is the social quality which makes it a focus for spiritual, political, national, or other cultural sentiment. Jones (21) defines social value as encompassing “the significance of the historic environment to contemporary communities, including people's sense of identity, belonging and place, as well as forms of memory and spiritual association” (see also Johnston, 1). Fond memories of sporting days, school excursions, and the circus are held by the older community, but after 1970 these positive associations diminish as the park became known for anti-social behaviour and was avoided. The heritage value and community associations are now remembered with interpretive panels that recall political rallies, circuses and celebrations, and the military takeover – making this history more accessible to younger audiences. While the park is no longer a rally point for the start of the annual May Day march, and the circus has shifted outside the city centre, portrait panels remember the stories of people who had a connection with the park. An obelisk created in the memory of the Munro and Martin sisters has been restored, which is also a reminder of Eddie Oribin’s and Sid Barnes’s joint work as influential Cairns-based architects (who built the former neighbouring brutalist Cairns Civic Theatre). The World War Two Air Raids Precautions control room, which coordinated all the air raid wardens in the city, remains and is listed on the Queensland Heritage Register. It was reused as a Scouts shop and has a large fibreglass scout hat put on top. The redevelopment thereby acknowledges the past and makes it more accessible than it was from the 1970s to the 2000s. Old places need new uses and new uses need old places, as urban activist Jane Jacobs famously said (Chang 524). These new uses become a part of a new city narrative and imaginary, creating new community attachments as a part of an evolving story. As it the case with other parts of the city’s history, however, some histories of Cairns are silenced in urban renewal (Law), reflecting the multiple and sometimes conflicting social values at play. Fig. 3: Munro Martin Park as a WWII Command Centre, n.d. (Source: Cairns Historical Society, image P08730.) Fig. 4: WWII Command Centre as Scout Hut with hat, 2016. (Source: Cairns Historical Society, image P20692.) Conclusion The revitalisation of places through arts-led gentrification is well documented and understood. This article builds on critiques of gentrification, asking slightly different questions about memory, history, and the contested meanings of heritage in urban renewal. The social value of Munro Martin Park is situated in time and space and by different users, and community attachment has evolved over time. For older generations the park evokes memories of sports, circuses, political rallies, and the closeness of the war. These histories have been remembered and curated through new park signage reflecting a conservative middle-class past: No Sports on Sundays; Circuses and Celebrations; Rallying at the Park; Military Takeover. For younger generations, for whom the park was a place to be avoided – a dangerous place on the edge of the city centre inhabited by the homeless – the park is now a new cultural space promoting accessibility to the arts. The mangoes that were once shelter for the flying fox population have given way to a new venue, tropical vines and foliage, and new signage and programming will produce new social value over time. Whether its redevelopment will “herald a renaissance in Cairns cultural life” by delivering “fresh performing arts and botanic experiences” (Cultural Services 8) remains to be seen in the shadow of COVID-19. What we do know is that the history and social significance of the park as a space for the homeless or a stopover and waiting place for Indigenous people from the Cape and the Torres Strait Islands has been erased, and that the now dispersed homeless population is difficult to reach except for food trucks and shelters. Their use of the park, whether as shelter or meeting place, is now highly constrained to a small, unfenced corner of the park at the corner of Sheridan and Minnie Street (which is rarely used). Although the redevelopment of Munro Martin Park is part of a vision for Cairns as a hub for arts and culture activities, it is important to ask at what cost. The controlled and surveilled nature of the park no longer permits the use of the space for rough sleeping or informal community events, although its redevelopment has increased visitation and created a safe and inclusive public space for middle class residents to enjoy the arts and contemplate the city’s history. With Marcuse and Mitchell we think it is important to ask larger questions about whose right to the city, and to see the remaking of urban sites as ongoing struggles over public space. In a city with one of the highest rates of homelessness per capita in Queensland, the renovation of this site of refuge reflects neoliberal tendencies in the creative economy to remake the city without due attention to the exclusion of undesirables and growing spatial inequality. References Anderson, Allison, and Lisa Law. "Putting Carmona’s Place-Shaping Continuum to Use in Research Practice." Journal of Urban Design 20.5 (2015): 545-562. DOI: 10.1080/13574809.2015.1071656. Barnes, Leanne, et al. Places Not Spaces: Placemaking in Australia. Envirobook, 1995. Cairns Regional Council. "Planning Scheme Policy – Places of Significance." Cairns Regional Council, 2016. 801-805. Chang, T.C. "‘New Uses Need Old Buildings’: Gentrification Aesthetics and the Arts in Singapore." Urban Studies 53.3 (2016): 524-539. DOI: 10.1177/0042098014527482. Cultural Services. "Cairns Regional Council Strategy for Culture and the Arts 2022." Cairns Regional Council, 2018. Dalton, Nick. "Call to Shift Cairns' Charity Food Van Because of Appalling Drunks." Cairns Post, 2016. <https://www.cairnspost.com.au/news/cairns/cairns-food-van-offers-to-move-after-tempers-flare-over-itinerants/news-story/0a112da6109a9a5b4dcb1fd82b1d2013>. Florida, Richard L. The Rise of the Creative Class : And How It's Transforming Work, Leisure, Community and Everyday Life. Basic Books, 2004. Grimwade, Gordon. "Heritage Plan Munro Martin Park." Cairns Regional Council, 2013. 68. Harvey, David. "From Managerialism to Entrepreneurialism: The Transformation in Urban Governance in Late Capitalism." Geografiska Annaler. Series B, Human Geography 71.1 (1989): 3. DOI: 10.2307/490503. Hashemnezhad, Hashem, et al. "'Sense of Place' and 'Place Attachment'." International Journal of Architecture and Urban Development 3.1 (2013): 5-12. <http://ijaud.srbiau.ac.ir/article_581_a90b5ac919ddc57e6743d8ce32d19741.pdf>. Johnston, Chris. "What Is Social Value? A Discussion Paper." Australian Government Publishing Service, 1992. Jones, Siân. "Wrestling with the Social Value of Heritage: Problems, Dilemmas and Opportunities." Journal of Community Archaeology & Heritage 4.1 (2017): 21-37. DOI: 10.1080/20518196.2016.1193996. Law, Lisa. "The Ghosts of White Australia: Excavating the Past(s) of Rusty's Market in Tropical Cairns." Continuum 25.5 (2011): 669-681. DOI: 10.1080/10304312.2011.605519. Marcuse, Peter. "From Critical Urban Theory to the Right to the City." City: Cities for People, Not for Profit 13.2-3 (2009): 185-197. DOI: 10.1080/13604810902982177. McKenzie, J., et al. "Cairns Thematic History of the City of Cairns and Its Regional Towns." Cairns Regional Council, 2011. 150. <https://www.cairns.qld.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0010/40888/CairnsThematic.pdf>. Mercer, David, and Prashanti Mayfield. "City of the Spectacle: White Night Melbourne and the Politics of Public Space." Australian Geographer 46.4 (2015): 507-534. DOI: 10.1080/00049182.2015.1058796. Mitchell, Don. The Right to the City: Social Justice and the Fight for Public Space. Guilford Press, 2003. Mould, Oli. "Brutalism Redux: Relational Monumentality and the Urban Politics of Brutalist Architecture." Antipode 49.3 (2017): 701-720. DOI: 10.1111/anti.12306. Power, Shannon. "Locals Angry Cairns Regional Council Has Removed Trees in Munro Martin Park." The Cairns Post, 2015. <https://www.cairnspost.com.au/news/cairns/locals-angry-cairns-regional-council-has-removed-trees-in-munro-martin-park/news-story/837cb6c0769f7651d884481bcf1e25e8>. Queensland Department of Environment and Resource Management. "National Recovery Plan for the Spectacled Flying Fox Pteropus Conspicillatus." 2010. Slater, Alix, and Hee Jung Koo. "A New Type of 'Third Place'?" Journal of Place Management and Development 3.2 (2010): 99. DOI: 10.1108/17538331011062658. Wainwright, Oliver. "‘Everything Is Gentrification Now’: But Richard Florida Isn't Sorry." The Guardian, 2017. <https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2017/oct/26/gentrification-richard-florida-interview-creative-class-new-urban-crisis>.

The war in Ukraine has serious consequences for the entire Ukrainian society and the world in general. The Ukrainian people have once again suffered a tragic event at the hands of the Russian Federation in the 21st century, resulting in a bloody genocide and undermining the concept of freedom for all humanity. Ukraine survived the Holodomor genocides of the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s, the occupation wars of the Soviet Union in the early 1920s and late 1930s, and deportations of Ukrainians in the 20th and 21st centuries [1]. Every family remembers the significant losses of loved ones through generations and their suffering across the world. The concept of genocide as a crime emerged in international law after the Second World War. Lawyer Raphael Lemkin, a Polish and American legal practitioner of Jewish origin, first introduced the term genocide as a legal concept. In the early 1920s, R. Lemkin studied philology and then law at the Jan Kazimierz University of Lviv. He defended his doctoral thesis at Heidelberg University in Germany, served as an assistant prosecutor in Berezhany in Ternopil Region, and lectured in Warsaw. In the early 1930s, he represented Poland at international legal conferences, and as early as 1933, he suggested that those who deliberately harmed a large group of people out of hatred and destroyed their cultural treasures, engaged in “vandalism,” killed, and raped should be considered as manifestations of genocide. People who performed actions or gave orders to do them should be tried and punished [2]. On December 9, 1948, the United Nations General Assembly adopted the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide. The definition of genocide is used in the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court [3]. The following acts committed with the intention of complete or partial destruction of the national, ethnic, racial or religious group are considered genocide: 1) murder; 2) causing severe physical or mental injuries; 3) deliberate creation of living conditions that are designed for complete or partial destruction; 4) actions intended to prevent the birth of children; 5) forcible transfer of children of this group to another group [4]. Thousands of Ukrainian civilians, wounded, soldiers, and prisoners of war have been victims of violent murders in this war. Russian prisoners of war have given testimony: “We had an order to immediately shoot anyone over 15 years of age without a word. 20 to 24 individuals were executed, including teenagers aged 10–15 and 17... we cleared the building. It was unimportant who was there... In Soledar and Bakhmut, 150 Wagner Group mercenaries killed everyone – women, men, retired, and children, including young ones aged five... If they disobeyed orders, they were killed” [5]. They not only murdered civilian Ukrainians but were also ordered to finish off injured Ukrainian soldiers and shoot and behead prisoners[5]. In Geneva, Chair of the UN Independent International Commission of Inquiry, Erik Møse, stated that while no evidence had yet been found, the question «of the genocide in Ukraine presented by independent experts regarding the actions of the Russian aggressor (killings, inflicting severe bodily or mental injuries) needed further investigation». This is how the UN works, not for the people, but for the Russian Federation!!! [6] The International Criminal Court in the Hague, which has the authority to prosecute individuals responsible for genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity, has only recognized the fifth item as a manifestation of genocide in Ukraine – the forcible transfer of children from one group to another. The International Criminal Court issued an arrest warrant for the President of the Russian Federation, Vladimir Putin, for deporting Ukrainian children to Russia, as well as for the RF Commissioner for Children’s Rights, Maria Lvova-Belova, who is suspected of committing a war crime. The courageous and consistent chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, Karim Khan, believes that no one should feel free to commit crimes [7]. We review the third and fourth items of the UN Convention in this article, which demonstrate signs of genocide in Ukraine and are associated with medicine, education, and science. Specifically, the intentional creation of living conditions intended for complete or partial destruction, actions intended to prevent the birth of children. Since late February 2022 and up to the present day, the WHO has verified 1,773 attacks on the healthcare system in Ukraine, resulting in the deaths of at least 136 medical workers and injuries to 288 [8]. 1,564 medical facilities were damaged, and an additional 208 were completely destroyed. During this period, the Russian army also destroyed 260 ambulances, damaged 161, and captured another 125. The enemy attacks medical infrastructure, such as hospitals, outpatient healthcare facilities, maternity hospitals, polyclinics, etc., on a daily basis [9]. In 2024, the attacks intensified. The healthcare infrastructure has suffered significant damage, particularly in areas near the front line. Up to 14% of facilities were completely destroyed, and up to 48% experienced partial damage. During this period, 40% of all attacks on the healthcare system are targeted at the primary level of medical care, hindering Ukrainians’ access to essential medical services. Emergency medical care centers accounted for 15% of the attacks. The number of double strikes has increased, posing an even greater danger to emergency workers and civilians. Emergency service workers and medical transport personnel are three times more likely to be injured by such strikes compared to other medical professionals. The most significant damage was suffered by medical facilities in Kharkiv, Donetsk, Mykolaiv, Kyiv, Chernihiv, Dnipropetrovsk, Kherson, and Zaporizhzhia Oblasts. The cost of medications has increased for the state during the war, particularly when inpatient treatment for patients is required. Patients purchase many medications themselves. Delivery of medicines to frontline regions is challenging. Providing access to medications is a significant issue in the healthcare sector, especially in areas that are subjected to constant shelling. As of April 2023, 75% of individuals had faced challenges because of the rising cost of medications, and 44% had difficulties obtaining them[10]. From February 24, 2022 to September 2023, complicated patients with oncological, autoimmune, and cardiovascular conditions who were receiving medication through clinical trials were affected. According to data from the State Expert Center of Ukraine, at the onset of the full-scale war, international sponsors of clinical trials suspended patient recruitment for 217 clinical trials. 234 clinical trials were prematurely terminated. Participants in the clinical trials were given four options: continuing treatment at the trial site (if possible), withdrawing from the trial early, transferring to other sites within Ukraine, or transferring to locations outside of Ukraine. Displaced patients scattered across over 25 countries around the world. The top therapeutic fields of transferred researched individuals were oncology, neurology, gastroenterology, rheumatology, and cardiology [10]. Damaging the energy infrastructure in Ukraine directly impacts the functioning of healthcare facilities. This applies to both the supply of electricity and water. Following the strikes on energy infrastructure last month, the winter season of 2024–2025 is likely to be extremely challenging. We also need to consider the availability of quality water and adequate sanitation, which are essential conditions for ensuring public health. 22% of households in the frontline regions delay seeking medical assistance. This is mainly due to financial constraints. Specifically, 24% of households are unable to afford medication, while 51% cannot cover the cost of medical services or vaccinations. Furthermore, there is an increasing lack of medical staff and a significant level of burnout. They feel a double burden. Medical professionals are part of affected communities in need of support and psychological assistance [11,12]. Therefore, the deliberate killing of patients and medical staff, the destruction of hospitals, polyclinics, outpatient medical facilities, and maternity hospitals, the destruction of the energy supply of medical facilities, the double bombing of ambulances, the inability to obtain necessary medications for patients, especially the seriously ill, the lack of possibility of getting medical assistance for Ukrainian citizens on their own territory are all consequences of the treacherous war waged by the Russian Federation against a neighboring country with the aim of seizing Ukrainian lands. Isn’t it a manifestation of genocide? Citizens of Ukraine have been deprived of the right to normal medical care for a third consecutive year! As medical professionals, we would like to ask the UN Investigative Committee if this could be considered a form of genocide. Children and young people have faced terrible trials as a result of the brutal war, depriving them of a normal life and education. 1,790 children have been recognized as victims during the deceitful war in Ukraine. 535 children have died, and over 1,255 have sustained injuries of varying degrees of severity, according to official information from juvenile prosecutors [13]. Many children and students had their schools, colleges, institutes, and universities destroyed or captured. 410 educational institutions were completely destroyed, and over 3,500 were damaged [14]. Due to frequent air raid alerts and bombings in Ukraine, education takes place in shelters or remotely. Children and youth lack the chance to obtain a quality education, making it challenging for them to enroll in higher educational institutions. More than a million children are unable to communicate with their teachers and friends because they are pursuing distance learning. Children living in the frontline territories of Ukraine have been forced to spend about 5,000 hours in underground shelters and the subway over the past two years [14]. The future of Ukraine greatly depends on the higher education of its youth. More than ten universities and research institutes were destroyed, with up to 40 experiencing destruction. Many students and faculty had to relocate to safe areas in Western Ukraine or evacuate abroad [15]. Ukrainian science has been suffering losses due to Russian aggression since 2014, following the occupation of Crimea and parts of Donetsk and Luhansk Regions. This resulted in Ukrainian scientific and educational institutions losing their premises, equipment, and some employees. They were forced to restructure their work during the evacuation. Since February 24, 2022, Ukraine has suffered unparalleled losses to its scientific community, with casualties including renowned professors, associate professors, senior researchers, assistants, graduate students, and undergraduates. By April 2024, over 140 Ukrainian scientists had perished in the full-scale Russian-Ukrainian war. We have lost highly talented individuals – the cream of the Ukrainian society [16]. Research and professional development opportunities for scientists in Ukraine are limited or completely absent due to the war. Continuous shelling, life-threatening situations, ruined labs, lecture halls, and research institutes, financial shortages, absence of basic amenities (power cuts, internet and mobile communication disruptions, etc.), displacement, forced emigration, and Russian occupation are just some of the challenges faced by students, teachers, and scientists. According to the National Research Fund, only 57 out of 169 teams are prepared to resume their scientific research and development under martial law conditions. Only 62 teams can continue their work under specific circumstances, and 50 teams will be unable to continue their research at all [17]. Therefore, the deliberate destruction of educational and scientific institutions provides grounds to label the actions of the Russian Federation as “scientific genocide” against Ukrainian citizens. This is all part of the genocide of the Ukrainian people, aimed at eradicating Ukraine’s intellectual capacity. Ukrainians have been denied access to proper education and science due to the war initiated by the Russian Federation. In conclusion, we call upon the civilized world that upholds democratic principles, the UN, and the International Criminal Court in The Hague! You are observing another genocide and its elements: urbicide, eliticide, linguicide, ecocide, and culturicide of the ancient Ukrainian people living in the heart of Europe. Ukraine has suffered all five legal indicators of genocide as adopted by the Rome Statute during this war. We do not want other European and world countries to experience this horror! We beg you: make strategically correct decisions for the future of humanity, because it may be too late for everyone!

This chapter focuses on home front literature and concentrates particularly on literature portraying the wartime experience in London. The majority of war literature was produced by authors who had remained in London. These tended to be non-combatants, but played an often major role in the ARP (Air Raid Protection) services, defending their city. Henry Green, William Sansom, and Stephen Spender worked as firemen; Elizabeth Bowen and Graham Greene as ARP wardens; and Rose Macaulay as an ambulance driver. This was a community of writers who were facing danger and defending their city, rather like the soldier poets in the trenches in the First World War. These authors had direct experience of the various periods of bombing, as well as of the peculiar hiatus when the war carried on elsewhere.

This chapter assesses the supply of blood in England and Wales and the United States. It presents the main national statistics in the increase in blood donation between the introduction of the National Health Service in 1948 and 1968. Whereas in some countries at the end of the 1940s blood transfusion services were in an early stage of development, in England and Wales they had been expanded earlier. The effects of the Second World War, particularly the large quantities of blood required to deal adequately with the expected and actual civilian air raid casualties, greatly stimulated the growth of a blood transfusion service on a national scale. Unfortunately, it is not possible to present any series of statistics for the United States similar to those provided for England and Wales. It is not even possible to estimate with any degree of precision the total annual volume of blood collections, transfusions, and wastage.

This chapter notes a sizable cocaine seizure in Lima, Peru's capital, that was nestled in the arid hills next to the Pacific Ocean on May 11, 1996. It recounts how Peruvian authorities happened upon 174 kilograms of cocaine hidden inside the fuselage of a Douglas DC-8 jet belonging to the Peruvian Air Force that was slated to fly to Russia. It also cites how Peruvian president, Alberto Fujimori, used the DC-8 as an executive plane several months before the drug raid. The chapter talks about how the National Intelligence Service, Peru's military intelligence arm, acted with alacrity to pressure military brass to reveal which officials had been scheduled to be on the DC-8 to fly to Russia. It refers to notorious drug traffickers Demetrio Chávez Peñaherrera and Abelardo Cachique Rivera, who named three generals involved in their trafficking network and testified that Peruvian military officials accepted bribes on multiple occasions so that the drug ring could operate uninhibited.

This chapter examines the medical responses to the outbreak of the Second World War in Northern Ireland with an emphasis on Belfast. It focuses on the emergence of the Emergency Medical Service (EMS), established throughout the United Kingdom in response to the anticipation of likely air-raid casualties. Pre- Second World War hospital services in Belfast were piecemeal, lacking integration and provided by varying independent bodies including voluntary, municipal and poor law authorities. This chapter argues that the EMS brought a degree of integration previously unknown in Northern Irish health organisation and administration. This new found integration of war time medical services greatly influenced the ‘post war reconstruction’ and ‘planning’ of health. The chapter examines Northern Irish contexts and suggests that Irish and Northern Irish health care systems began to dramatically diverge during wartime. It also examines the relationship between Belfast and London’s Ministry of Health, and the challenges of devolved healthcare. In addition, the chapter examines the public health responses to the 1941 Belfast Blitz, and the overall effectiveness of wartime health services.

Abstract Peter Mitchell arrived, loaded Home Guard revolver in pocket, in time for the Michaelmas (first of three) term at Jesus College to a Cambridge1 already altered by the war. Although the colleges were still functioning, there was a reduction in numbers of both staff and students, while portions of the colleges and other facilities had been requisitioned for war-related use. A part of Jesus College was USE’d for pilot training, for instance. Although only one minor air raid actually occurred, the townlived under blackout conditions. Mitchell took up residence at the college and joined an ambulance service, spending one night a week on duty.Partway through the first year, Mitchell moved from the college to a rented room nearby in a quiet terrace house, built in 1810, at 58 Jesus Luw to enjoy a less commm1al lifestyle. Music was still an important aspect of his life. He played the violin unacunnpanied, as well as with Maurice Sugden, whom he met at Jesus and who lived just annmd the corner in Malcolm Lane. Sugden, a chemist, went on to become a fellow of the Royal Society and was ultinutely knighted. Together they played through the Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven violin sonatas. One of Mitchell’s zoology instructors, Cyril Smith, also accompanied him and introduced him to Brahms and the late Romantics, as well as teaching him more advanced interpretation.

"Introduction. The rapid spread of coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) has created unprecedent global challenges for health systems. National Healthcare Systems Hospitals adopted protective measures and medical equipment resources, exposing healthcare workers at risk for stress syndromes, subclinical mental health symptoms, and long-term occupational burnout. Health workers have had to deal with the most severe clinical cases in intensive care specialized operative division. Since the first months of the epidemic spread, some studies have established shown that nurses have shown symptoms of severe anxiety associated with peritraumatic dissociative experiences. Most of the studies examined the emotional impact of COVID 19 on health professionals but did not focus on different consider professionals roles and hospital departments workload. Objective. The aim of our study was to analyze the emotional characteristics of health workers during the II wave of coronavirus (November-December 2020), comparing the frontline (COVID 19) and second line (chronic diseases) hospital divisions and analyzing the differences between the health roles. Methods. We conduct a pilot study among health-workers. A sample of 28 healthcare workers (aged 23-62 years) were recruited from frontline and secondline hospital departments (L’Aquila, IT). The administered psychological battery was composed of n. 4 self-reports evaluating emotional variables (depression, anxiety, and stress) (DASS-21), personality traits (BFI-10), burnout risk (MBI), and perceived stress (PSS). Results. The results highlighted significant differences: older health workers were found to be more vulnerable than those who younger health workers; another interesting point was that healthcare workers serving in frontline wards showed symptoms of depersonalization. No significant difference for the type of role held. Conclusions. A prevention program should be activated to preserve frontline and older workers mental health. Earlier support could mitigate the effect of the pandemic experience, reducing the risk for emotional health workers' fragility."