Those who had never met us, owing to the similarity of our work, often believed that Ian and I were arch-rivals. However - though our professional interests overlapped from time to time - this could not be further from the truth. I first became aware of Ian when I joined Arms & Armour Press in 1969, just as Military Pistols and Revolvers was making its way through the proofs stage. Ian was then still serving in the Royal Artillery, having joined the Army at the end of the Second World War, and had had his first book published by Ballantyne a year previously: The Guns 1939-45. Given my own interest in modern weaponry, it was perhaps inevitable that I worked on practically all of the 'Hogg Books' published by Arms & Armour Press prior to my departure in 1973 and thereafter, on a freelance basis, on many of those subsequently produced by A&AP and Cassells. Yet our first contact could so easily have been the last. Still wet behind the ears as an editor, I hacked the German Secret Weapons manuscript about so greatly that its author was moved to comment that the changes were all very well, but that his prose sounded like 'buttermilk gurgling from a jug' (a phrase engraved in my memory). After suitable apologies had been made, I was allowed to begin work on German Pistols & Revolvers 1871-1945 and given access to the author. Despatched to Swindon on a miserable, snowy day in the winter of 1970, I spent two hours on Reading Station, where the train had lost a windscreen wiper, and arrived to meet Ian (lecturing at the Royal Military College of Science) far later than intended. Fortunately, Ian had a knack of putting people at their ease, and I immediately warmed to him. A tour around the Shrivenham collection and a stay with Ian, Anna and their family confirmed first impressions, and Ian and I became friends. Ian was exceptionally prolific, producing about 150 books on small-arms, ammunition, artillery, fortification and military history; editing Jane's Infantry Weapons (1972-94); contributing articles to a variety of journals; and enjoying a fruitful collaboration with artist John Batchelor. Ian's books have been translated into a dozen languages, selling well in excess of a million copies. He was also a consummate professional who (unlike most of his peers) usually submitted manuscripts on time, within agreed parameters, and accompanied by all the illustrations. Military Small Arms of the Twentieth Century, published in 1972 and now in its seventh edition, is undoubtedly the best-selling encyclopaedia of its type owing to prodigious sales in North America. Ian continued work after the death of his co-author John Weeks on the first day of 1983, and I sincerely hope that Military Small Arms will continue to act as a memorial to its creators in a way that Small Arms of the World perpetuated the names of W.H.B. Smith, Joseph E. Smith and Ed Ezell. Pistols of the World (1978), currently being prepared for its fourth edition, has proved to be another long-lived project, and the recent re-issue by Greenhill Books of German Artillery of World War Two and British and American Artillery of World War Two shows the lasting value of Ian's pioneering work in this particular field. However, the breathtaking complexity of his output often obscured the real Ian Hogg. He was a very private man in many ways, and, after 27 years in the Army, many of them spent giving orders, could give the impression that he didn't suffer fools gladly. Yet those closest to him knew that he was more sensitive than his reputation suggested; he could be stung by harsh reviews, particularly if they were anonymous or spiteful, and he was occasionally saddened by the employers that exploited his honesty. Ian was also incredibly generous; he was quick with words of encouragement, I have no idea how many photographs he gave me over the years, and I know from personal experience that he could pass projects to others simply to help them through bad times. But the best things, for me at least, were his lack of pomposity and his dry sense of humour. At Arms & Armour Press in the early days, we unthinkingly gave him a manuscript-box labelled HOGGWASH. Our more precious authors would have been mortified, but, assuming that the label was more affectionate than derogatory, Ian laughed. He was right. We liked him immensely. He was always capable of derailing telephone conversations with a pithy aside, and, even during his last illness, could restore my flagging spirits with a self-deprecating joke. Above all, I (and other friends) will remember the compliments slips that accompanied photographs or information: 'Ian V. Hogg. Author; journalist; violins mended'; 'Ian Hogg. Author; journalist; bicycle repairer to the King of Greece'; or my personal favourite.'Ian Hogg. Author; journalist; Head Gardener, Eddystone Lighthouse'. It's hard to realise that I cannot ask Ian for another photograph, or telephone him for a half-hour pep talk. It is a measure of Ian the person that the lives not only of his family, but also of his friends will never be the same again. He and I used to joke, whenever we'd got away with something rash or risky, that the 'sun always shines on the righteous'. Ian was buried on a morning for which dire weather forecasts had been made: yet the sun blazed. Perhaps he still knows something that I do not. Back to Greenhill Military Book News No. 116 Table of Contents Back to Greenhill Military Book News List of Issues Back to Master Magazine List © Copyright 2002 by Greenhill Books This article appears in MagWeb (Magazine Web) on the Internet World Wide Web. Other military history articles and gaming articles are available at http://www.magweb.com