On 29 May 1946, U.S. military authorities execute Martin Gottfried Weiss, former commandant of the Dachau and Majdanek concentration camps.
Weiss` is closely associated with Dachau, where he served as commandant from September 1942 until the end of October 1943, overseeing an ever-growing network of brutal subcamps and mass killings. Briefly, between November 1943 and May 1944, he also commanded the Majdanek camp in occupied Poland, one of the few Nazi camps that functioned as both a labour and extermination centre.
Throughout his tenure, Weiss was noted not just for administrative efficiency but for enabling and encouraging cruelty as a means of control. At Dachau, he was responsible for implementing deadly medical experiments, establishing rigid punitive regimes, and authorising executions. At Majdanek, his leadership coincided with systematic mass killings.
Weiss arrived in Dachau in May last year, supposedly to take over as commandant again, before fleeing to Munich, where he was arrested on 29 April 1945 by Corporal Henry Senger of the U.S. Army 292nd Field Artillery Observation Battalion.
His trial focused on the crimes committed at Dachau, including acts of torture, starvation, forced labour, unlawful executions, and medical atrocities. Witness testimony revealed the scale of inhumanity, implicating Weiss directly in policies that led to thousands of deaths.
On 13 December last year, the tribunal found Weiss guilty of `violating the laws and usages of war`, sentencing him to death by hanging alongside 35 others.
That sentence is carried out today at Landsberg Prison. Just before he is hanged, Weiss shouts ˝I am dying for Germany!˝.
Picture: Martin Gottfried Weiss takes the stand in the Dachau trial.
Source: United States Holocaust Memorial Museum
On 28 May 1946, France signs an with the United States, securing vital postwar loans in exchange for economic concessions.
Léon Blum, representing the French government, and U.S. Secretary of State James F. Byrnes finalise an agreement that wipes France`s debts for loans from the First World War and 1939-1940 while also granting a $650 million loan to help stabilise the shattered French economy. In return, the United States gains sweeping access to French markets - most controversially, to the French film industry.
The agreement comes at a critical moment. France’s economy remains paralysed by wartime damage, widespread inflation, and a collapsing franc. Imports of food, fuel, and machinery are desperately needed. With little hard currency and few international lenders willing to assist, the French government turns to Washington.
But the terms are steep. French protections on domestic industries, especially cinema, must be rolled back to allow a flood of American films. To many, this feels less like economic aid and more like cultural annexation. French filmmakers and intellectuals immediately denounce the agreement, warning that national cinema risks being drowned by Hollywood’s dominance.
Yet the choice is clear: accept the agreement and gain precious time to recover, or risk deeper economic collapse. The communists rail against growing U.S. influence, and Gaullists grumble at the perceived surrender of sovereignty, but France has little bargaining power left.
For the Americans, the agreement is both economic and strategic. By offering support with strings attached, Washington reinforces its influence in a key Western ally and ensures France remains tied to the emerging postwar order centred on U.S. leadership.
The Blum-Byrnes Agreement signals the start of a new phase in Franco-American relations - one defined not by liberation or war, but by loans, trade, and an uneasy balance between recovery and dependence.
Picture: Byrnes flanked by (from left) U.S. Secretary of the Treasury Fred M. Vinson, French ambassador to the US Henri Bonnet and representative of the French government Leon Blum, signs the agreement, May 28, 1946.
Source: Getty Images
On 27 May 1946, the French colonial administration in Indochina proclaims the creation of a separate Montagnard administration in Vietnam’s Central Highlands.
The new administrative zone - formally named the “Montagnard Country of South Indochina” (Pays Montagnard du Sud-Indochinois) - is carved out from the highland provinces of Darlac, Kontum, Pleiku, and parts of Lâm Đồng. Its formation comes as France attempts to re-establish its colonial grip over Indochina.
The Montagnards - a diverse group of indigenous highland peoples including the Jarai, Ede, Bahnar, and others - have long lived apart from the lowland Vietnamese majority. Historically marginalised by both French colonial authorities and Vietnamese rulers, many Montagnard communities retained their own languages, social structures, and animist or Christian religious traditions.
Today’s move is framed by the French as an act of protection for the highlanders. Officials claim the new administration will preserve the culture, land, and autonomy of the Montagnard peoples while granting them greater representation within the colonial structure. In reality, however, the decision is a calculated political manoeuvre aimed at weakening the influence of the Viet Minh, who has been gaining support across Indochina - including among some Montagnard groups. By creating a separate Montagnard entity under direct French oversight, the colonial government hopes to prevent the unification of the highlands with the rest of Vietnam under anti-colonial leadership.
The timing of the announcement is also critical. Just weeks ago, the French and the Viet Minh provisionally agreed to a framework for negotiations under the 6 March Accords, recognising Vietnam as a “free state” within the French Union. However, tensions remain high, and military confrontations continue in the south. The establishment of a Montagnard administration appears designed to send a message: that France will not allow Vietnamese nationalists to claim the highlands unchallenged.
Picture: General Leclerc, General Giap, and the French commissioner for Indochina, Jean Sainteny, holding talks about Indochina`s independence.
Source: Getty Images
On 26 May 1946, Czechoslovak voters head to the polls in the country’s first free parliamentary elections since the end of Nazi occupation and deliver a resounding victory to the Communist Party.
Today’s election marks a key turning point in the Third Czechoslovak Republic, which was established following the liberation last year. Since then, a ˝National Front˝ of four main parties - the Communists, Social Democrats, National Socialists, and the People’s Party - has governed through the Interim National Assembly under the leadership of President Edvard Beneš and Prime Minister Zdeněk Fierlinger.
But as the National Front agreement allows for only four parties and excludes former collaborators, fascists, and prewar conservatives, competition within the coalition has been intense. The Communists, led by Klement Gottwald, have steadily expanded their influence - particularly in local committees and trade unions - while receiving overt support from the Soviet Union, which now borders Czechoslovakia to the east.
Today’s vote sees an extraordinary turnout of 93.9%, reflecting the intense political engagement of a population eager to shape the republic’s future. When the results are tallied, the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia emerges as the clear winner, capturing 31.2% of the vote nationwide. In the Czech lands, they claim over 40%, cementing their position as the most powerful political force in Bohemia and Moravia. The second-largest bloc, the Czechoslovak National Socialists, trail with 18.4%, followed by the People’s Party and the Social Democrats.
Under the terms of the National Front, all four parties will continue to govern jointly. However, as the leading vote-getter, the Communists now hold a plurality in the new 300-seat Constituent National Assembly and are entitled to form the next government. Klement Gottwald, a former Comintern agent and party secretary since 1929, is expected to become prime minister in the coming days.
For now, the result is accepted peacefully by the public and rival parties alike.
Picture: A National Front poster during the May 1946 elections.
Source: Czech National Archives
On 25 May 1946, the Hashemite Kingdom of Transjordan declares its full independence from British oversight, with Emir Abdullah bin Hussein as King.
Transjordan’s path to statehood began in the aftermath of the First World War and the Arab Revolt, during which Emir Abdullah’s family - descendants of the Prophet Muhammad and leaders of the Hashemite dynasty—had allied with the British against Ottoman forces. As a reward, the British supported Hashemite claims in parts of the former Ottoman Arab provinces. In 1921, the Emirate of Transjordan was established under British supervision as part of the League of Nations Mandate for Palestine, with Abdullah serving as Emir but with ultimate authority retained by the British High Commissioner.
While Transjordan was nominally autonomous, it remained under British military and financial influence for over two decades. The country’s internal governance was largely stable under Abdullah, who maintained close ties with London while balancing tribal and nationalist pressures within his territory.
This arrangement began to change as the Second World War drew to a close, and as we reported in our 22 March post, resulted in the Treaty of London between Britain and Transjordan, granting the emirate full sovereignty in exchange for continued military and diplomatic cooperation.
That agreement laid the legal foundation for today’s ceremony. Meeting in Amman, the Transjordanian parliament proclaims the independence of the state and recognises Abdullah as King - elevating his status from Emir to monarch. British troops will remain under separate agreements, but the British High Commissioner is now formally withdrawn, and Transjordan will conduct its own foreign policy and defence.
Transjordan’s independence marks the first successful transition of a League of Nations mandate into a fully sovereign Arab state. With nationalist movements gaining strength across the region - from Syria to Egypt to Palestine - today’s event may well serve as a precedent for other territories seeking to end colonial administration.
Picture: King Abdullah on Jordan Independence day, 25 May 1946
Source: Jordanian archives
On 24 May 1946, a sensational claim from Capitol Hill shocks the American public as members of the House Appropriations Committee reveal the existence of a secret germ weapon—reportedly more deadly than the atomic bomb—that could wipe out an entire city or destroy vast agricultural regions in a single blow.
The remarks emerge in the aftermath of a closed-door briefing on the Navy’s $4.6 billion appropriation bill, during which Congressmen were given guarded insight into the United States’ emerging biological weapons programme. According to one committee member speaking to the press today, the U.S. military has developed several such weapons, including an aerosol-delivered agent capable of killing “all forms of life in a large city” by dispersing contagious germs from high-altitude aircraft.
The idea of such a weapon, capable of silently annihilating a city without an explosion, captures immediate public attention and anxiety. Yet behind the dramatic language, the actual state of America’s biological warfare capabilities is far more limited.
At this point, the U.S. biological weapons program—initiated in earnest in 1942—is still in its infancy. Though progress was made during the war, most of it was experimental and heavily classified. Research was conducted primarily at Camp Detrick in Maryland, where scientists have been working on diseases such as anthrax, botulism, and tularemia, as well as anti-crop agents designed to disrupt food supplies. But no biological weapon was used in combat by the U.S. during World War II, and the technical challenges of large-scale deployment, especially delivery and containment, remain unresolved.
The congressional remarks likely exaggerate the operational readiness of such weapons. While it is true that spray systems and bomblets were tested, and that the U.S. has begun developing anti-personnel and anti-crop biological agents, these remain largely confined to laboratory and controlled field trials. Moreover, the moral and strategic implications of deploying such weapons are a source of internal debate within both scientific and military circles.
Picture: Class III cabinets at Camp Detrick
Source: U.S. Army
On 23 May 1946, Chinese Nationalist (KMT) forces retake the strategic city of Changchun in Manchuria, just under a month after it had fallen to Communist troops under General Lin Biao.
As we covered in our 28 April post, Communist forces captured Changchun after launching a decisive assault on the KMT garrison. Lin Biao’s troops had encircled the city and severed key supply lines, forcing the Nationalist defenders into retreat after days of bitter fighting. The loss was a major blow to KMT ambitions in Manchuria, particularly as Changchun had been earmarked as a northern command centre following the Soviet withdrawal.
But in the weeks since the city`s fall, KMT high command has rapidly regrouped. The American-trained New First Army and the Seventy-First Army - two of the best-equipped and most experienced units in Chiang Kai-shek’s northern campaign - have mounted a determined counteroffensive. Reinforcements have been flown in from Mukden and Siping, and artillery units were reassembled to support a coordinated push.
KMT General Du Yuming, a veteran of the Burma campaign and now commanding forces in Manchuria, orchestrates a multi-pronged assault from the south and west. Three days ago, Nationalist units launched a series of probing attacks on Communist positions along the outer perimeter of the city, while also targeting CCP supply routes from the north. These manoeuvres successfully stretched Lin Biao’s lines thin, forcing him to redeploy his veteran units to avoid being flanked.
Then, early this morning, KMT forces breach the weakened eastern flank of the city with infantry and tank support. By midday, heavy street fighting is underway in several districts, with both sides suffering considerable casualties. However, Nationalist artillery superiority and sustained aerial reconnaissance tip the balance. By late afternoon, Communist units begin withdrawing northward under heavy fire, and by evening, KMT troops re-enter the city centre and raise the Nationalist flag over key government buildings.
Picture: Nationalist soldiers fight in trench atop an important height near Szepinkai, Manchuria.
Source: Getty Images
On 22 May 1946, major newspapers across Europe and North America publish the long-suspected secret protocols of the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact, confirming for the first time the clandestine Soviet-Nazi agreement to divide Eastern Europe.
While the existence of the treaty, signed on 23 August 1939, was publicly acknowledged at the time, the agreement’s most explosive feature remained hidden: a series of secret clauses dividing Eastern Europe into German and Soviet “spheres of influence.” Today, those clauses are laid bare.
The published documents detail the full extent of the territorial bargain: Estonia, Latvia, and Finland were to fall within the Soviet sphere; Lithuania was initially assigned to Germany, then reassigned to the USSR in a follow-up protocol. Most significantly, the two powers agreed to partition Poland along the Narew, Vistula, and San Rivers. On 1 September 1939, Germany invaded Poland from the west. Seventeen days later, the Red Army invaded from the east, fulfilling the terms of the secret pact and effectively erasing the Polish state.
The publication comes as the Soviet Union remains a central player in the postwar Allied order, despite its earlier alignment, however temporary, with Nazi Germany. For years, the USSR has denied the existence of these secret protocols. Even at the ongoing Nuremberg Trials, where Nazi defendants referred to the documents during their defence, Soviet prosecutors have denounced the claims as forgeries.
But today’s release, based on captured German Foreign Ministry archives discovered in the ruins of Berlin and now under Allied control, provides irrefutable evidence. The documents include signed copies of the protocols, minutes from the negotiations, and records from German diplomats confirming Stalin’s personal approval. With the publication now circulating in the press, the truth is undeniable.
Today’s publication peels back a layer of wartime diplomacy that many preferred to leave buried. In doing so, it redraws the moral landscape of the Second World War, and foreshadows the ideological divisions already hardening in the new global order.
Picture: Molotov signing the pact
Source: Getty Images
On 21 May 1946, Canadian nuclear physicist Louis Slotin is fatally exposed to a burst of radiation at Los Alamos Laboratory during a criticality accident involving a 6.2-kilogram plutonium core.
Slotin, a Manhattan Project veteran known for his hands-on skill in assembling bomb cores, is conducting a criticality experiment with the same core that killed physicist Harry Daghlian in August 1945. Despite the tragedy, similar experiments have continued, designed to bring fissile materials to the edge of criticality to better understand nuclear chain reactions.
Today’s test involves manually lowering a beryllium hemisphere over the plutonium core to reflect neutrons back into it - a setup that brings the system close to a self-sustaining chain reaction. Slotin is using a flathead screwdriver to maintain a slight gap between the two hemispheres, working without shielding, protective gear, or remote tools. At 1520 hours, his screwdriver slips.
For less than a second, the two hemispheres come into full contact. A bright blue flash - the signature of ionising radiation - fills the room. Several observers report a wave of heat washing over them. Slotin instantly pries the hemisphere away with his bare hands, ending the reaction, but the damage is done.
The burst of radiation is intense and deadly. Slotin absorbs an estimated dose of over 1,000 rads - far above the lethal threshold. He immediately feels a burning sensation, nausea, and disorientation. He calmly instructs the other seven men in the room to record their positions so that doctors can calculate each person’s exposure. He then walks to the medical unit under his own power.
Over the next nine days, Slotin’s condition will rapidly deteriorate, and he will die on 30 May.
Today’s incident is the second fatal accident involving this particular core, which has now gained the moniker `demon core`. In the wake of Slotin’s exposure, all hands-on criticality testing with fissile materials will be halted.
Picture: Louis Slotin (left) during the preparation of the first nuclear experiment "Trinity Test", 1945
Source: Los Alamos National Laboratory Archives, TR-229
On 20 May 1946, a twin-engine USAAF C-45 transport plane crashes into the 58th floor of the Manhattan Company Building at 40 Wall Street in New York City.
The aircraft, en route from Smyrna, Tennessee to Newark, New Jersey, had been flying through heavy fog with visibility reduced to just 150 metres (500 ft). At 2010 hours, the Beechcraft Expeditor, unable to locate its landing path in the thick overcast, veers dangerously low over lower Manhattan before slamming into the northeast corner of the 71-storey skyscraper.
The crash tears a gaping hole nearly six metres wide and three metres high (20x10 ft) into the offices of the Atlas Corporation, an investment firm housed on the 58th floor. The aircraft disintegrates on impact, scattering flaming debris into Pine Street and damaging buildings as far as 44 Wall Street. One section of the plane’s landing gear bounces off the pavement and lodges four storeys up on a neighbouring structure. Another engine fragment crashes into a basement across the street, igniting a small fire.
The five killed include pilot Major Mansel R. Campbell, Captain Tom L. Hall, First Lieutenants Robert L. Stevenson and Angelo A. Ross, and WAC officer Lieutenant Mary E. Bond. The force of the explosion throws two of the bodies across the executive suite’s blue rug, while others remain inside the mangled fuselage.
Despite the scale of the destruction, none of the estimated 2,000 people working inside the building at the time is injured. Emergency services quickly rope off the area, extinguish flames, and begin the process of removing the wreckage. Fire and police commissioners personally supervise the response, assisted by Army and FBI personnel. An official board of inquiry convenes just two hours later on the 55th floor of the building, initiating a formal investigation.
Today’s tragedy is grimly reminiscent of the B-25 crash into the Empire State Building which we covered in our 28 July post last year.
Picture: The tail section of an Army C-45 which crashed into 58th floor of 40 Wall Street and fell to the 12th floor setback killing all five occupants, 20th May 1946.
Source: Getty Images
On 19 May 1946, more than 250,000 Japanese demonstrators gather in front of the Imperial Palace in Tokyo for a massive protest demanding immediate government action to address the nation’s worsening food crisis.
Since the end of the war, Japan has been gripped by widespread hunger. The official ration system, already strained by industrial collapse and black-market hoarding, has begun to fail. In Tokyo, rice deliveries have stalled for weeks, and civilians survive on watery gruel, animal fodder, or foraged roots. Urban residents trade family heirlooms for sweet potatoes in rural villages. The phrase “bamboo-shoot life” has come to symbolise survival by peeling away one’s last possessions.
The U.S. occupation authorities, under General Douglas MacArthur’s command, have allowed Japan to retain its imperial system while overseeing the country’s political reconstruction. But the food situation has rapidly turned into a humanitarian and political emergency, fuelling unrest and opening space for radical political activism. Left-wing labour unions, women’s groups, teachers’ associations, and student organisations have all begun mobilising. Earlier this month, a protest in Setagaya drew attention after demonstrators discovered imperial kitchens stocked with luxuries while ordinary citizens starved.
Today’s protest is the largest yet. Workers, mothers carrying infants, students, and schoolchildren converge on the palace grounds. There are no incidents of violence, but the messages are sharp and urgent. Placards demand rice, democracy, and government accountability. Speakers issue appeals to the Emperor, calling on him to intervene and denounce the corrupt wartime elites still lingering in power.
The protest occurs against the backdrop of rising political tension. May has become a month of demonstration across Japan. The 1 May labour rallies brought tens of thousands into the streets, and today’s Food May Day is a powerful extension of that wave.
Picture: A rally to protest serious food shortages is held at a square in front of the Imperial Palace in Tokyo`s Chiyoda Ward, May 19, 1946. About 250,000 people took part in the rally.
Source: Jiji Press
On 18 May 1946, Vice Admiral William H. P. Blandy reassures reporters in Pearl Harbor that preparations for the upcoming atomic bomb tests at Bikini Atoll—known collectively as Operation Crossroads—are proceeding according to plan.
Having arrived in Hawaii just three days earlier to assume command of Joint Task Force One, the organisation overseeing the tests, Blandy meets the press today and offers new details about the planned detonations. “We want to know what we have to contend with if United States warships were ever attacked with atomic bombs,” he states plainly upon disembarking from his flight from San Francisco. His remarks confirm that all three scheduled atomic tests will take place at Bikini Atoll, as originally announced.
The first test—designated Test Able—is scheduled for around 1 July and will involve detonating a bomb in the air above a fleet of decommissioned U.S., German, and Japanese warships. The second test, now confirmed as an underwater detonation at a depth of no more than 30 fathoms (approximately 55 m), will occur soon after. The third will take place at an even greater depth beneath the ocean surface, though no date has yet been announced.
Until now, the nature of the second test has been the subject of heated debate among planners. Some members of the task force had advocated for setting the bomb off from a barge moored in the lagoon. Blandy, however, makes it clear that the final decision to detonate the device underwater was taken in order to simulate “an explosion against ships in a harbour”—a scenario of increasing concern in a world where nuclear arms are no longer a secret weapon of war but an emerging strategic reality.
Addressing fears that an underwater nuclear explosion might generate a massive tidal wave, Blandy offers reassurance. Although speculative estimates have claimed the blast could produce waves up to 30 metres (100 feet) high, the admiral explains that Bikini’s natural barrier reefs would disperse the energy of any wave well before it reaches surrounding shores.
Picture: Target and support ships for Operation Crossroads at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, February 1946
Source: U.S. Navy photo 80-G-702126
On 17 May 1946, Mahatma Gandhi and Muslim League leader Mohammed Ali Jinnah hold emergency talks in New Delhi in an effort to calm communal tensions and prevent the escalating Hindu-Muslim conflict.
The meeting comes in the immediate aftermath of the breakdown of the Second Simla Conference and amid rising tensions between the Indian National Congress and the Muslim League. As we covered in our 12 May post on the Cabinet Mission memorandum, British officials are currently trying to broker a constitutional framework that avoids civil conflict and allows a smooth transfer of power. The failure to reach a consensus between the Congress and League has exacerbated communal unrest, and in several parts of India, sporadic violence has already begun to surface.
Today’s discussions between Gandhi and Jinnah are held under intense pressure. Jinnah, who recently reasserted the Muslim League’s demand for a separate Muslim state of ‘Pakistan’, dominates much of the talks. He presents Pakistan as the only viable alternative to civil war and accuses the Congress of obstructing peace by refusing to accept Muslim aspirations. Gandhi, although firm in his belief in a united India, raises no objection to the principle of separation, provided it ensures long-term peace and progress.
At a press conference following the meeting, Jinnah states that the talks have “greatly helped in easing the tension in the country,” and issues a strong appeal to his supporters to refrain from violence. “Although there is sufficient cause for the Muslims to lose their equilibrium of self-control,” he says, “indulgence in strife will only help to further complicate matters both for us and the British Cabinet Mission.” He reiterates that he has made a final stand to Gandhi: Pakistan must be granted if civil war is to be avoided.
Gandhi, meanwhile, refuses to provide details to the press but affirms his hope that dialogue can continue and that Jinnah’s appeal for calm will be heeded. He remains committed to preserving unity but expresses cautious optimism following Jinnah’s willingness to engage directly.
Picture: Gandhi and Ali Jinnah, during talks in Mumbai (Bombay) 1944.
Source: Getty Images
On 16 May 1946, Major Jack Mullin of the U.S. Army Signal Corps presents the German Magnetophon tape recorder to astonished engineers at a convention of the Institute of Radio Engineers (IRE) in San Francisco.
The Magnetophon had been developed before the war by AEG in partnership with BASF, using BASF`s oxide-coated cellulose acetate tape and AEG’s groundbreaking electronic tape transport. The device made a critical leap in 1940 with the implementation of AC biasing - discovered by German broadcast engineer Walter Weber - dramatically improving fidelity, frequency response, and signal-to-noise ratio. By the end of the war, German radio had used the Magnetophon for high-quality broadcast recordings, including seamless "live" music programming that had baffled Allied listeners.
Mullin encountered the Magnetophon while inspecting German radio installations in 1945, shortly after VE Day. In Bad Nauheim, he heard a recorded symphony that sounded indistinguishable from a live performance. Investigating further, he acquired two Magnetophon units, along with 50 reels of Type L tape, and shipped them to California. There, working with technician Bill Palmer, Mullin rebuilt the electronics using American components and adapted the machines for 117V AC and 60 Hz power. Over the following months, he refined the devices for demonstration, replacing motors, redesigning amplifiers, and integrating new playback features.
For engineers accustomed to scratchy shellac discs or limited wire recorders, the quiet, smooth playback from the oxide-coated tape is revolutionary. The machine plays continuously for over 20 minutes, using a quarter-inch (6.35 mm) wide tape running at 76.2 cm/s (30 inches per second)—a standard Mullin and Palmer adapted from the German 77 cm/s speed.
Unlike wire recorders or acetate transcription discs, the Magnetophon uses spliced reels of plastic tape that can be edited with scissors and joined with adhesive. The AC bias system removes distortion and background noise, offering broadcast-quality fidelity far exceeding anything currently available in the U.S.
Picture: Mullin gives the first demonstration
Source: U.S. Army
On 15 May 1946, the U.S. Coast Guard formally recommissions the former German sail training ship Horst Wessel as the USCGC Eagle (WIX-327).
The Horst Wessel was launched in 1936 by Blohm & Voss shipyards in Hamburg as part of Nazi Germany’s effort to train future Kriegsmarine officers. Named after a Sturmabteilung (SA) martyr and composed with the aesthetics of National Socialist pageantry, the vessel was the third of five Gorch Fock-class ships. As a three-masted barque with a full-rigged fore and mainmast and a gaff-rigged mizzenmast, it combined traditional square-sailing systems with modern navigation - a design intended to teach recruits manual seamanship before they graduated to motorised warships.
With Germany’s defeat in 1945, the Allies seized numerous military and training vessels as part of postwar reparations. The Horst Wessel was found in Bremerhaven and claimed by the United States.
Today, she is officially recommissioned under the Stars and Stripes as Eagle, assigned to the U.S. Coast Guard Academy in New London, Connecticut.
The Eagle will now serve as the Coast Guard’s primary sail training vessel, carrying forward the same function it once performed in Germany, but under an entirely new mission. Cadets from the U.S. Coast Guard Academy will board Eagle each summer to learn fundamental skills in navigation, weather, sail handling, teamwork, and leadership.
The ship measures 89.7 metres (295 feet) in overall length, with a beam of 12.9 metres (39 feet) and a full sail area of over 2,000 square metres (22,000 square feet). She carries a crew of around 12 officers, 38 enlisted personnel, and up to 150 cadets. Though auxiliary diesel engines are fitted for harbour manoeuvres, the Eagle is designed to operate under full sail alone.
Picture: Segelschulschiff "Horst Wessel", 1936
Source: Bundesarchiv DVM 10 Bild-23-63-31
On 13 May 1946, the Soviet Union formally launches its postwar missile development programme with Joseph Stalin signing Decree No. 1017-419ss.
Though Germany’s defeat has ended the global war, it has also triggered a technological arms race. The U.S. has already launched captured German V-2 rockets from White Sands Proving Grounds, which we covered in our 10 May post, while the British and French are racing to retrieve engineers and hardware.
Today’s decree marks the institutional birth of the Soviet ballistic missile programme. It creates the “Special Committee on Reactive Technology” under the Council of Ministers, chaired by Georgy Malenkov with key deputies including Dmitry Ustinov and Boris Vannikov. The Committee is granted sweeping authority over all related scientific, technical, and industrial work, from design and testing to training and materials procurement.
The decree mandates the reproduction of the V-2 and Wasserfall missiles using Soviet materials and establishes a broad research and production framework. This includes new scientific institutes and design bureaus within several ministries: Armaments, Agricultural Machinery, Chemical Industry, Aviation Industry, and Electrical Industry. Laboratories and proving grounds in occupied Germany will be restored, and a central Soviet testing facility is to be constructed. To accelerate the process, the decree also orders the transfer of German rocket specialists and entire design teams to the USSR by the end of the year.
The decree lays out an aggressive timeline: scientific and engineering plans for the years 1946–1948 are to be drafted immediately, with specific instructions for institute formation, factory preparation, and training of at least 300 Soviet missile specialists by the end of the year. German equipment and instruments may be requisitioned as reparations, and up to $2 million in laboratory equipment is authorised for procurement from the West.
Picture: Soviet R-1 (developed based on the V-2) rocket prepared for launch
Source: Russian Ministry of Defense
On 12 May 1946, the British Cabinet Mission in India issues a formal memorandum laying out its vision for India’s constitutional future.
Dispatched by Prime Minister Clement Attlee’s Labour government, the Cabinet Mission—composed of Lord Pethick-Lawrence, Sir Stafford Cripps, and A.V. Alexander—arrived in March with the urgent task of mediating between the Indian National Congress and the All-India Muslim League.
In its memorandum published today, the Mission formally rules out partition, citing administrative, economic, and military risks. A sovereign Pakistan, it concludes, would still contain large non-Muslim minorities and could not viably manage critical infrastructure or national defence. Additionally, its two wings—divided by 1,100 kilometres (700 miles) of Indian territory—would face logistical fragmentation and strategic vulnerability.
Instead, the Cabinet Mission proposes a federal Union of India, encompassing both British India and the princely states, with powers limited to foreign affairs, defence, and communications. Provinces would retain all other subjects and have the option to form “Groups” with their own legislatures and executives—an implicit compromise with the League’s demand for Muslim-majority autonomy.
The plan also outlines a Constituent Assembly to draft the new constitution, elected through the provincial legislatures using communal representation. It divides British India into three Sections: A (predominantly Hindu provinces), B (Muslim-majority northwest), and C (Muslim-majority northeast). Each Section would first draft its own provincial and group constitutions before reconvening to form the Union constitution. Provinces would retain the right to opt out of their group after the first general election under the new system.
Though the Mission does not fully satisfy either major party, it appeals to Indian leaders to accept its terms in the spirit of compromise.
Picture: Mahatma Gandhi with Lord Pethwick Lawrence, British Secretary of State for India, after a meeting on 18 April 1946.
Source: IWM IND 5083
On 11 May 1946, the first CARE Packages arrive in the port of Le Havre, France, bringing urgently needed food and supplies from the U.S. to a starving Europe.
Founded just one year ago in the U.S., the Cooperative for American Remittances to Europe (CARE) emerged from a coalition of 22 U.S. charitable organisations. With much of Europe’s infrastructure destroyed, agriculture disrupted, and populations dislocated, food shortages remain dire across the continent. In France, Germany, and elsewhere, daily rations for civilians hover around 1,000 to 1,500 kilocalories—barely half of what is considered minimally adequate.
To address this crisis, CARE repurposes surplus “Ten-in-One” ration packs originally produced for the U.S. military. Each CARE Package contains enough food to feed one person for ten days and includes staples such as canned meat, powdered milk, sugar, coffee, margarine, and dried fruit. Over time, the contents are tailored to local needs and evolve to include clothing, medicine, and other essential items.
Today, the first shipment of 15,000 CARE Packages is unloaded at Le Havre, bound for distribution in France. Donors in the U.S.—many of whom are immigrants or individuals with family in Europe—have been able to purchase a package for $10, designate a recipient, or allow CARE to direct it to the area of greatest need. The packages arrive with individual names, messages, and the hope of rekindling connections across an ocean of war and destruction.
The timing is urgent. This winter was one of the coldest in recent memory, and food insecurity remains acute. In Germany, food rations have led to unrest; in France, black markets thrive; and in Eastern Europe, Soviet requisitioning has stripped many rural areas of basic reserves. For countless families, today’s delivery is the first reliable shipment of calories they have seen in months.
The arrival of the first CARE Packages today signals not only a logistical achievement but also a moral gesture—a bridge of compassion from one continent to another.
Picture: Townsmen are transporting CARE packages (Cooperative for American Remittance to Europe).
Source: Getty Images
On 10 May 1946, the United States successfully launches its first V-2 missile at White Sands Proving Ground in New Mexico.
As part of Operation Paperclip, the U.S. military has shipped captured V-2 hardware and components, along with German technical experts, to the United States to reverse-engineer and test the technology. These efforts are aimed not only at understanding the V-2’s destructive capabilities, but also at adapting its powerful propulsion systems for scientific and military purposes.
Today’s launch follows a failed attempt on 16 April, when a control malfunction caused the first V-2 fired from American soil to tumble out of control shortly after ignition. In response, engineers implemented rigorous changes: jet vanes were X-rayed, electrical circuits revised, and ignition sequences refined.
At 1218 hours, the second V-2 successfully lifts off from the desert test site. The rocket climbs rapidly to an altitude of approximately 110.6 kilometres (68.7 miles), crossing the boundary of space as defined by modern standards. After reaching apogee, it follows a controlled descent and impacts the desert floor some 66.8 kilometres (41.5 miles) from the launch pad. The resulting crater measures over 9 metres (30 feet) wide, with debris scattered across a wide radius.
Although the scientific instruments aboard the missile are destroyed on impact, the test confirms the feasibility of conducting high-altitude research using surplus V-2s. The launch is overseen by the U.S. Army Ordnance Corps in collaboration with General Electric engineers and a number of former German specialists, operating under strict military supervision.
Today’s success is also a milestone for the newly established Upper Atmosphere Research Panel, which plans to use future launches to study cosmic rays, atmospheric composition, and temperature gradients at altitudes never before reached by man-made craft. Plans are already underway to improve the recovery of instruments through parachute systems and mid-flight payload separation.
Picture: The captured German V-2 Rocket takes off in a test held at White Sands Proving Ground, New Mexico, May 10, 1946.
Source: Getty Images
On 9 May 1946, King Victor Emmanuel III of Italy formally abdicates the throne in favour of his son, Crown Prince Umberto.
Victor Emmanuel III had ruled Italy since 1900, navigating the kingdom through World War I and the turbulent years that followed. In 1922, when Mussolini’s Blackshirts marched on Rome, Victor Emmanuel refused to authorise military resistance, instead inviting Mussolini to form a government. That decision ultimately entrenched fascist rule for over two decades.
Throughout Mussolini’s dictatorship, Victor Emmanuel remained a largely passive figure, endorsing laws that stripped Italians of political freedoms, sanctioned racial persecution, and led Italy into disastrous wars alongside Nazi Germany. Even after Mussolini’s fall in July 1943, the King’s attempt to reclaim legitimacy by replacing him with Marshal Pietro Badoglio failed to win over a public now deeply disillusioned with the monarchy’s complicity.
In the aftermath of Italy’s 1943 armistice with the Allies and the brutal German occupation that followed, Victor Emmanuel’s position became increasingly untenable. His delayed flight from Rome, reluctance to fully repudiate fascism, and association with Italy’s wartime defeat eroded what little popular support remained. By 1944, he had transferred most royal functions to his son Umberto, who was named Lieutenant General of the Realm.
Following the end of the war and the liberation of Italy, the political landscape shifted rapidly. A popular referendum on the future of the monarchy is now scheduled for 2 June 1946, and pressure mounts on the royal family to remove Victor Emmanuel from the equation entirely. By abdicating today, the former King hopes to bolster his son’s image and salvage what remains of the monarchy’s credibility.
But for many Italians, the gesture comes too late. Victor Emmanuel is widely held responsible for enabling Mussolini’s rise and failing to defend democratic institutions. Even among moderates, his abdication is seen less as an act of contrition and more as a final, reluctant retreat.
Picture: King Victor Emmanuel III with Benito Mussolini on a tour of inspection
Source: Getty Images
On 8 May 1946, Soviet Marshal of Aviation Alexander Novikov, the former commander of the Soviet Air Forces and a key architect of Red Army air power during World War II, signs a forced confession extracted under torture by the NKVD—marking the downfall of one of the USSR’s most decorated wartime leaders.
Novikov’s achievements during the war were considerable. Appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Soviet Air Forces in 1942, he led a comprehensive reorganisation of Soviet aviation, strengthening coordination with ground forces, modernising tactics, and improving aircraft design and procurement. Under his command, the Red Air Force played decisive roles in the Battle of Stalingrad, the Kursk counteroffensive, and the final push into Berlin. He was twice awarded the title Hero of the Soviet Union and promoted to Marshal of Aviation for his contributions.
But Novikov’s close association with Marshal Georgy Zhukov—by then falling out of favour with Stalin—would prove politically fatal. After the war, Stalin began to reassert tight control over the military, wary of the independent authority acquired by frontline commanders. As part of a broader purge targeting Zhukov’s circle, Novikov was arrested in April this year.
The official charge: submitting falsified reports concerning the readiness and quality of Soviet long-range reconnaissance aircraft. Authorities claimed that Novikov had exaggerated the capabilities of these aircraft, concealing developmental shortcomings during the war. In truth, these accusations were a political pretext. Novikov’s interrogation at Moscow’s Lefortovo Prison involved brutal physical coercion. After days of torture, today he signs a confession admitting to the fabrication of technical assessments and administrative failures.
The confession is not just a means to neutralise Novikov—it was also used to build a case against Zhukov, implicating him in a supposed conspiracy to undermine the state.
Novikov is stripped of his post and sentenced to five years in a labour camp.
Picture: Marshal Alexander Novikov in 1943
Source: TASS
On 7 May 1946, Polish political advisor Dr Józef Retinger delivers an address at the Royal Institute of International Affairs in London, calling for a new, cooperative European order.
Retinger, co-founder of the Independent League for European Cooperation, presents his vision for Europe at a moment of continental disarray.
His address traces European unity back to the spiritual and intellectual cohesion of the Middle Ages. Yet in the modern age, emigration, imperial overreach, and two catastrophic wars have left Europe disunited, impoverished, and dangerously dependent on outside powers—Germany, Italy, and Austria having been defeated; France weakened; and smaller nations too marginal or aligned with larger blocs to assert meaningful independence.
Rejecting both Nazi centralism and Soviet communism as false unifiers, Retinger outlines a third path: a federal Europe of regional blocs built on voluntary economic cooperation and shared democratic values. He credits the late Polish Prime Minister General Władysław Sikorski as a key influence behind this vision, and recounts their efforts—dating back to the early years of the Second World War—to create intergovernmental collaboration among states like Poland, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, and Romania. These federations, Retinger argues, would bind Europe together without erasing national identities, preventing future imperialism through mutual dependence.
Retinger warns, however, that failure to act may cement the ongoing geopolitical split between East and West. He argues that such a division, rooted in fundamentally incompatible worldviews—collectivist authoritarianism versus individualist democracy—will not bring stability, but rather renewed antagonism with Europe itself as the battleground.
Picture: Delegation from the European Movement after submitting a proposal for a European Assembly to the Study Committee for a European Union established by the five signatory states of the Treaty of Brussels. From left to right: Francis Leenhardt, Étienne de la Vallée Poussin, Duncan Sandys, Robert Bichet, Joseph Retinger, Raoul Dautry and Henri Brugmans.
Source: Historical Archives of the European Union
On 6 May 1946, two former U.S. Marine Corps Code Talkers are denied the right to register to vote at the Shiprock Public School in New Mexico, highlighting the continued disenfranchisement of Native Americans.
Although Native Americans were granted U.S. citizenship under the Indian Citizenship Act of 1924, many states, including New Mexico and Arizona, continue to deny Indigenous peoples full voting rights by exploiting legal loopholes that classify reservation residents as being under federal guardianship and thus ineligible to vote. These barriers remain firmly in place even after Native Americans served with distinction during the war, including in some of its most crucial campaigns.
Today’s denial of voting rights to Jimmie King and Howard Nez, follows a disturbing pattern that has been unfolding over recent days. On 3 May, in Apache County, Arizona, James Manuelito, another Navajo veteran, was similarly turned away when he attempted to register. That same afternoon, Army veteran Watson Gibson walked into the McKinley County Clerk’s office in New Mexico to register, only to be denied by County Clerk Eva Sabin. These men, who had once stormed beaches across the Pacific to defend democracy, now find themselves storming county offices at home to demand the very rights they fought to protect.
In each case, local officials cite outdated interpretations of state law to justify their refusals despite the clear legal status of these men as American citizens. The denials underscore the deep-seated resistance to Native enfranchisement across the Southwest and reflect broader nationwide patterns of discrimination that Native veterans must now confront.
Today’s events in Shiprock and McKinley County serve as a sobering reminder that for Native Americans, the fight for equality did not end with the conclusion of World War II—it continues on American soil.
Picture: Two U.S. Marine Navajo "code talkers" send a radio signal during the battle of Bougainville in 1943
Source: Getty Images
On 5 May 1946, French voters reject the draft constitution proposed by the Constituent Assembly.
As covered in our 19 April post, the draft constitution was approved by the Constituent Assembly after months of negotiation. It proposes abolishing the Senate and the Chamber of Deputies in favour of a single National Assembly, elected by universal suffrage and holding supreme legislative power. The President of the Republic would serve a largely ceremonial role, appointed by the Assembly, while executive authority would rest primarily with the Council of Ministers, dependent on parliamentary support. The draft also expands social rights, enshrining guarantees such as the right to work and union freedom.
However, criticism mounted quickly. Opponents—ranging from General Charles de Gaulle to moderates within the Popular Republican Movement (MRP) and the Republican Party of Liberty—argue that concentrating power in a single Assembly would lead to political instability, weak governments, and endless party manoeuvring. Memories of the Third Republic’s parliamentary fragility are still fresh, and many voters associate strong legislative dominance with national weakness and division. Others object to the diminished role of the presidency and the removal of the Senate as a balancing institution.
Today’s referendum results are decisive. About 53% of voters reject the draft constitution, with roughly 10,584,000 votes against and 9,454,000 in favour. Voter turnout is robust, reflecting the seriousness with which the French public views the task of rebuilding national institutions after the Vichy regime’s collapse.
The rejection means that the political process must start anew. In accordance with prior agreements, a new National Constituent Assembly will be elected to draft another version of the constitution. While leftist parties—the French Communist Party and the Socialist SFIO—had championed the rejected draft, the result signals a demand from the electorate for a more balanced system.
The outcome today adds further instability to France’s ongoing political transition.
Picture: French Women Voting During The Referendum On The Constitution Project
Source: Getty Images
On 4 May 1946, the Trieste Sub-Office of the 428th Counter Intelligence Corps (CIC) Detachment mistakenly arrests an Italian soldier.
As discussed in yesterday`s post on the Council of Foreign Ministers in Paris, the status of Trieste remains a major international flashpoint, with Italy, Yugoslavia, and the Allied powers debating its fate. The Free Territory of Trieste, established under the Allied peace treaty with Italy, is divided into Zone A, administered by British and U.S. troops, and Zone B, controlled by Yugoslav forces. In this charged atmosphere, the 428th CIC Detachment is responsible for counterintelligence operations in Zone A, supporting the 351st Infantry Regiment.
On today’s date, CIC Agent Arthur Henning arrests Lieutenant Alfredo Fabrici, a former member of Italy’s specialist mountain troops, the Alpini. Believing Fabrici to be associated with the remnants of the National Republic Army and to have collaborated with the Nazi SS, Henning detains him in central Trieste. Fabrici, who had returned after the war to live with his father, an official at the Monfalcone shipyards, quickly becomes the centre of a major uproar.
Shortly after the arrest, crowds of Italians, Yugoslavs, and Austrians—partisans and communists among them—surround the CIC office, demanding Fabrici’s release.
During interrogation, Fabrici explains that he was conscripted into the SS under threat of deportation to a concentration camp, and that during his service he secretly aided anti-Fascist partisans. Fabrici smuggled weapons and documents to resistance groups and even persuaded the infamous SS General Odilo Globocnik to surrender to partisans in Trieste. Wanted by the Nazis for his actions, Fabrici had fled into hiding near Tarvisio as the war ended.
With no evidence of voluntary collaboration with the Nazis, Agent Henning releases Fabrici.
Today’s mistaken arrest underscores the tangled political environment in Trieste, where lines between friend and foe are blurred by years of war, occupation, and survival.
Picture: A CIC checkpoint near Colle Salvetti, Italy. 1944
Source: DVIDS
On 3 May 1946, the Council of Foreign Ministers, meeting in Paris, turns its attention to the Italo-Yugoslav border and the fate of the contested Julian March, including Trieste.
Following the dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Italy annexed large areas of Slovene- and Croat-inhabited territory, including Trieste, Istria, and Dalmatia, under the Treaty of Rapallo (1920). Mussolini`s regime then launched a systematic campaign of Italianisation, which deepened ethnic divisions. During the war, the region was occupied first by Fascist Italy and later by Nazi Germany, with partisans resisting both occupations. When Yugoslav Partisans took Trieste on 1 May 1945 they remained in control of the city for forty days, during which reports of arrests, reprisals, and political murders against Italians surfaced.
Today’s discussions in the Council follow the broader postwar border realignment efforts already underway, as seen in the French memorandum proposing international administration of contested German territories discussed in our 25 April post.
Foreign Ministers James F. Byrnes (USA), Ernest Bevin (UK) favour preserving Italy’s territorial integrity to stabilise its fragile new government and keep it within the Western orbit. The Soviet Union`s Vyacheslav Molotov, conversely, supports Yugoslavia`s claims. France`s Georges Bidault expresses concern about sparking a renewed nationalist backlash, pressing instead for compromise and internationalisation.
At the centre of today’s session is the proposal to establish a Free Territory of Trieste—an autonomous entity under United Nations protection that would serve as a buffer between Italy and Yugoslavia. The Yugoslav delegation, although not a full Council member, continues to lobby forcefully for direct annexation of the Slovene-dominated hinterlands.
Meanwhile, Italian representatives contend that Trieste is historically and culturally Italian. They express outrage at reports of expulsions and political violence carried out during the Yugoslav occupation.
Picture: Graffiti in Trieste voicing support for Tito and encouraging fraternisation between Yugoslav and Italian partisans.
Source: Getty Images
On 2 May 1946, the Douglas Aircraft Company completes a groundbreaking study under Project RAND proposing the design of a man-made satellite capable of orbiting the Earth.
The idea of artificial satellites has deep roots. From the 17th-century laws of orbital motion to the speculative musings of Jules Verne and the conceptual space stations of Konstantin Tsiolkovsky. However, it is only in the 20th century, with advances in rocketry—particularly those developed by German engineers during the war—that the concept begins to acquire technical plausibility.
Today’s study, formally titled Preliminary Design of an Experimental World-Circling Spaceship, is submitted by the Douglas Aircraft Company as part of its early collaboration with Project RAND—a research initiative initially created by the U.S. Army Air Forces in October last year. At this stage, RAND remains a classified think tank operating within Douglas, tasked with long-term military and technological forecasting.
The study envisions a small satellite equipped with scientific instruments, launched into low Earth orbit by a multi-stage rocket. Though the satellite is not yet technically feasible with available propulsion systems, the report argues its development is not only possible but inevitable. It identifies satellite vehicles as having profound implications for both national security and scientific advancement.
Crucially, the Douglas team emphasises that such a spacecraft would “revolutionise” communications, weather forecasting, and global observation. From a military perspective, the ability to observe enemy territory from orbit could become a strategic game-changer. The study also includes technical estimations—proposing a mass of approximately 226 kg (500 lbs), orbital altitude around 482 km (300 mi), and a launch vehicle derived from existing V-2 technology, though scaled for greater payload capacity.
The report concludes that while many challenges remain, a world-circling satellite is no longer a fantasy but a tangible goal for American science and industry.
Picture: The first U.S. test of a captured German V2, 1946.
Source: Getty Images
On 1 May 1946, the British House of Commons begins full deliberations on the National Health Service Bill.
The measure—championed by Labour Minister of Health Aneurin Bevan—marks a decisive break from pre-war models of health provision, such as the National Insurance Act of 1911, which offered limited access to medical services primarily to employed men through contributory insurance. Even the wartime Emergency Medical Service, though extensive, remained fragmented and temporary.
What Bevan proposes is far more ambitious: a unified National Health Service (NHS), centrally administered and available to all citizens, free at the point of use. It will nationalise hospitals, bring general practitioners, specialists, and public health services under the umbrella of the Ministry of Health, and make access to care universal—regardless of income, employment, or status.
This afternoon, Members of Parliament engage in earnest debate over the Second Reading of the Bill. Bevan`s proposal envisions over 2,700 hospitals in England and Wales alone brought under state control.
While the Labour majority largely supports the Bill, opposition arises from both Conservative MPs and within the medical profession. Critics warn of excessive centralisation and a breakdown in doctor-patient relationships. Some fear the erosion of voluntary and charity hospitals, while others demand assurances that general practitioners will retain autonomy over their practices.
Outside Westminster, public sentiment is divided. War-weary Britons, many of whom received care through wartime services for the first time, show growing support for a national system. Yet among professional circles—particularly the British Medical Association—resistance is mounting.
Still, the momentum behind the Bill is unmistakable. The Beveridge Report of 1942 had already laid the intellectual groundwork by identifying healthcare as one of the “five giants” to be defeated in building a post-war welfare state. Now, in the economic and social rubble of the war, the government seems prepared to act decisively.
Picture: Bevan at a London County Council hospitals exhibition, January 21st 1946.
Source: Getty Images
On 30 April 1946, the United States Congress passes the Bell Trade Act, fundamentally redefining economic relations with the Philippines.
The Act—officially titled the Philippine Trade Act of 1946—emerges as a way to secure American strategic and economic interests in the region following Japan’s defeat. Though the Philippines is slated to gain formal independence on 4 July 1946, today’s legislation ensures that U.S. influence will remain deeply entrenched in the archipelago’s economic framework.
At the heart of the Act is the controversial “parity rights” clause, which requires a constitutional amendment in the Philippines to grant American citizens and corporations equal access to the country’s natural resources and public utilities—privileges previously reserved for Filipinos under Article XII of the 1935 Constitution. President Manuel Roxas, the newly elected head of the Philippine Commonwealth, has already signalled his support, arguing that foreign capital is essential for national recovery. But critics at home and abroad are already calling the legislation a form of economic coercion.
The legislation passed today authorises a sweeping economic package: $620 million in U.S. aid through the Philippine Rehabilitation Act, but only on the condition that the parity provision is accepted. This includes $120 million for rebuilding infrastructure, $100 million in surplus U.S. military goods, and $400 million in property compensation for war damage. Yet no payments beyond $500 per claimant are to be made unless the Philippine legislature adopts the required constitutional changes.
The Bell Trade Act also grants duty-free access for Philippine goods entering the U.S. until 1954, followed by a phased introduction of tariffs until 1974. Conversely, U.S. goods will enjoy similar privileges in the Philippines, enshrining a free-trade relationship heavily tilted in America’s favour. The Act limits Philippine fiscal autonomy by fixing the peso-dollar exchange rate and restricting capital controls, effectively locking the new republic into a dependent economic role.
Picture: U.S. Capitol At Washington, Jan 1946
Source: Getty Images
On 29 April 1946, the International Military Tribunal for the Far East convenes in Tokyo for the first time, formally indicting 28 of Japan’s top wartime leaders on charges of crimes against peace, war crimes, and crimes against humanity.
Modelled after the Nuremberg Trials in Europe, the Tribunal was established by the proclamation of General Douglas MacArthur in January under the authority of the Allied Powers. The Charter of the Tribunal was issued on 19 January and outlined the legal framework for trying individuals rather than states, bringing Japanese leaders to account for aggressive war, atrocities, and the systematic abuse of civilians and prisoners. Investigators from eleven Allied nations have spent months compiling evidence to build cases against Japan’s wartime elite.
The indictments, handed down today, accuse the defendants of conspiring to wage wars of aggression across the Asia-Pacific region between 1928 and 1945, violating international law, and overseeing atrocities including the Nanjing Massacre, the abuse of Allied POWs, and the forced labour of civilians. The charges span three classes of crimes: Class A (crimes against peace), Class B (conventional war crimes), and Class C (crimes against humanity).
Among the most prominent figures in the dock are former Prime Minister Hideki Tojo, widely seen as the face of Japan’s militarist regime, and Foreign Minister Shigenori Tōgō, who signed the Tripartite Pact with Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy. Also indicted are General Iwane Matsui, accused of command responsibility in the Nanjing Massacre; Kōki Hirota; and Kenryō Satō.
The courtroom itself—set up in the former War Ministry building in Ichigaya, Tokyo—is heavily fortified, with proceedings broadcast and recorded under the watch of an international bench. Eleven judges from the Allied powers preside, including Sir William Webb of Australia, who serves as President.
On this first day, the court reads out the full 55-count indictment over several hours, naming the accused and outlining the scope of their alleged crimes.
Picture: International Military Tribunal in Tokyo, Japan in May 1946
Source: Getty Images
