Extracts of Alamein
            	From Chapter Eight:- 
            			 
            		It was during the long siege of Tobruk, with men of the two sides deployed in
            		relatively static positions around the defensive perimeter, that the song destined
            		to become the veritable signature tune of the war in North Africa was first heard.  
            		 
            		Broadcast to the German troops but heard across the desert silence at night by
            		the British and Australians too, the smoky voice of a Bremerhaven-born nightclub
            		singer named Lale Anderson evoked an immediate response. She sang a ballad of
            		longing and separation entitled "Lili Marleen," about a young woman,
            		waiting under street light outside a barracks for her soldier lover: "Wenn
            		sich die spaten Nebel drehn/ Werd ich by der Laterne stehn/ Wie einst Lili Marleen/
            		Wie einst Lili Marleen." ("Your sweet face seems/ To haunt my dreams/
            		My Lilli of the lamplight/ My own Lilli Marlene," in the subsequent English
            		version.) 
            		 
            		In their foxholes, the grimy front-line defenders of Tobruk pricked up their
            		ears and called out "Louder, please, louder!" And a 20th Century musical
            		legend was born. 
            		 
            		Not only the sweaty rank-and-file were enchanted by Lilli. She made an enduring
            		impression, for instance, on the Oxford-educated SAS officer and author Fitzroy
            		Maclean when, deep behind the lines and on his way to a commando raid on Axis-occupied
            		Benghazi, he heard Lale Andersen's voice come drifting across the night from
            		the radio at a nearby enemy command post. "Husky, sensuous, nostalgic, sugar-sweet," it "seemed
            		to reach out across the desert," he would later recall. 
            		 
            		Another British officer, Captain C.F. Milner of the Rifle Brigade, felt impelled
            		to write to the BBC in September, 1941, only one month after the song was first
            		broadcast, to declare "Lilli Marlene" (the subsequent English spelling) "the
            		most bewitching, haunting, sentimental song of the war" and Lale Andersen's
            		voice "at once seductive and soothing, husky, intimate but mysteriously
            		unattainable." More pragmatically, Squadron Leader R.A. Foggin of the Desert
            		Air Force urged the BBC to find a rival to Lilli, warning that the original might "possibly
            		create a feeling that the Germans who can produce such good music etc. cannot
            		be such bad chaps after all." 
            		 
            		Perhaps it was Lilli Marlene's calculated ambiguity that created so powerful
            		and universal an appeal. She was at once the girl that Tommy or Fritz might hope
            		to marry and the tramp they would go to for illicit sex: For surely no "nice
            		girl" would be found standing underneath a street light in front of a barrack
            		gate. Lilli Marlene was, in short, that archetypal if clichéd male fantasy
            		figure: Virgin and Whore. 
            		 
            		Her road to universal stardom had not been an easy one. She started life as a
            		poem in 1917 by an infantryman named Hans Leip. The poem languished unnoticed
            		until it was set to music in 1938 by a composer of popular songs named Norbert
            		Schultze. Later that year it was recorded by Lale Andersen, a then little-known
            		night club chanteuse. On disc, the song sold only 700 copies and might have died
            		unmourned but for the pure chance of its finding its way to Soldatensender Belgrad,
            		the radio station set up in occupied Belgrade in 1941 to beam morale-building
            		programmes to German troops in the Balkans and North Africa.  
            		 
            		The station was short of recorded material and a corporal was sent to Vienna
            		to bring back what he could find. From a pile of records gathering dust in the
            		cellar of a studio he dug up Leip and Schultzes unconsidered opus. Back
            		in Belgrade, the officer in charge of the forces station thought that Lili
            		Marleen might just do as closedown music and a legend was born.  
            		 
            		Hitlers twisted little propaganda chief, Josef Goebbels, was not pleased
            		by the song's instantaneous popularity among the Nazi soldiery. He thought it "unheroic" and
            		not at all in the martial spirit of the Third Reich, but even in the Third Reich
            		the will of the common man could not be completely ignored  especially
            		when the common man happened to be also the front-line soldier. Meanwhile, in
            		London, the BBC was getting soldiers letters demanding to know why its
            		forces programme wasn't able to put out anything half as good. 
            		 
            		British propaganda chiefs and the BBC's programme directors took the message
            		on board. In an internal memo, a BBC executive named Morris Gilbert posed the
            		question: should they "crush" Lilli or "adopt" her? As Gilbert
            		observed, "one school of policy makers held that the song should be resolutely
            		barred, on the score that it could not help but attract and seduce and enervate
            		the war effort. Anything so warm, so simple, so appealing could not but arouse
            		sympathy and kindred softer feelings towards its German creators." 
            		 
            		But banning the song would involve the necessity of "producing a song of
            		greater lilt and seduction which would overwhelm it a tall order." On the
            		other hand, "adopting it would involve producing a suitable lyric in English
            		and plugging it with terrific emphasis and tenacity until it should simply be
            		identified as a British product and its enemy origins forgotten." 
            		 
            		After consultation with the War Office and the Home Office (which had set up
            		a Dance Music Policy Committee to weed out "unhelpful" items of popular
            		entertainment) the BBC plumped for "adoption." A popular songwriter
            		named Tommy Connor  progenitor of "I Saw Mummy Kissing Santa Claus," "Its
            		My Mothers Birthday Today" and similar Tin Pan Alley gems -- was commissioned
            		to anglicise and sanitise Lili.  
            		 
	"I knew about the German version, but I couldnt use that, " he
            		would say in a postwar interview. "Wasnt it all about a young prostitute
            		who wanted to give as much for her country as the soldiers so she gave her body?
            		Can you imagine that in English? I had to write a song imagining the girl as
            		a daughter, a mother, a sister or a sweetheart  a song that wouldnt
            		offend the hearts and morals of people." 
            		 
            		The rest, as they say, is showbiz history, but surely a little more than that:
            		an inscrutable fragment, perhaps, of universal social history. For "Lilli
            		Marlene's" appeal was not restricted to the fighting men. It would become
            		a wildfire favourite among civilian populations on both sides of the war  even
            		among the civilians of Nazi-occupied Europe  and was to be translated into
            		French, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, Norwegian, Danish and Swedish.  
            						 
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