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| Villers Bretonneaux |
Now that the tunnel trauma is out of the way it’s time to
move on up the canal to Cambrai. We initially intended spending only a couple
of days here but the port captain suggested we stay for the ‘fete’ over the
long weekend – not having any other pressing plans (any plans at all) we agreed.
There was a religious aspect to the celebrations invovlving a relic from the
cathedral processing around the town but that was to become rather lost amidst
the bright flashing lights, loud music and screaming crowds being whirled,
twirled and hurled in all directions at the biggest carnival I have ever seen.
Not only the main square but every other square and street in the town was
crammed full of rides and sideshows. The carnival was actually in town for not
just the weekend but the whole week forcing cars taking people to and from work
to patiently squeeze through strolling crowds intent on winning a cuddly toy at
a rifle range or hooking a plastic duck in a pond – who knows what you win for
that. In amongst all the modern roller coasters, ghost trains and throw you up
in the air o’planes was a rather disturbing ride – a carousel with real ponies.
Half a dozen very sad looking little ponies connected together and harnessed up
to a central pole endlessly walking in circles with the ride operator
‘encouraging’ them to keep moving.
One evening spent at the carnival was enough so we hired a
car for 4 days and got out of town. Car hire in France
is a first for us. Now, having done so and worked out the sometimes archaic
road rules (we think) we wonder why we haven’t previously. The hire itself was
amazingly easy (mobile phone operators take note) requiring very little in the
way of documentation. It was a case of take what’s left as regards the car though.
The smallest they had was a Nissan Juke which seemed nearly as spacious as the
boat but less comfortable.
Cambrai is close to many of the Somme
battlefields and monuments. A day’s drive will take you to the scenes of the
deaths of around a million men. The first day alone of the Battle
of the Somme saw 5000 Allied forces lose their lives.
One of those killed here was my great uncle and whilst he has no known grave I
was anxious to see his name on the Vis-en Artois
memorial. Before deciding to rent the car we had gone to the tourist office in
Cambrai to see if there was perhaps public transport out to the memorial. There
wasn’t but the women in the office could not have been more kind and helpful;
one of them even offering to drive us there on her day off (quite a long way as
it happens).
There are military cemeteries everywhere in this region.
Some are fairly small, some very large and all immaculately kept. Each
headstone or cross represents one young man, of course, as well as his broken
hearted mother and family. There are also memorials and monuments some of which
are so enormous they can be seen for miles. The monument at Thiepval is one –
it is only when you get close to it that you realise why it is so huge and why,
tragically, it could not have been any smaller. Every inch of it is needed to
accommodate the names of the 72205 British and South African men who were
killed at the Somme and who have no known grave – ‘the
missing’.
We visited memorials to
Australians and Canadians also. They overlook what is now beautiful rural
countryside which makes it almost impossible to begin to imagine the horror and
utter ruin and devastation of that time. It was a sad and moving experience for
me to lay some poppies at the Vis-en-Artois Memorial for my own great uncle. I
know very little about his life and nothing of his hopes and dreams but he is
not forgotten.
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| Thiepval Memorial |
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| Vis-en-Artois Memorial |
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| Huge shell hole from WW1 |
On a lighter, weirder note we visited an old Vaubin fort
near Lille which is now a privately
owned residence and museum. We really should have learned by this time. If
someone has gone to the trouble and expense of buying a castle or fort and
building up a museum they are probably going to be quite keen on their subject.
They also, invariably, want to show you every single brick and artefact and
tell you more than you every wanted to know. And so it was at the Fort de
Seclun. A 2 hour guided tour of a partially ruined fort now being run as a farm
with hopes of one day turning it into a wedding/convention venue. We were part
of a group of a dozen without any chance of escape as the gates were locked
behind us after we entered. The lady of the fort was responsible for the first
section showing us around the fort itself whilst shooing geese, chickens, goats
and the xmas turkey out of the way along the underground passages as we all picked
our way through the trails of animal droppings they left in their wake.
The
fort had been used as a garrison by the Germans during WW2 and so the present
owners had the idea to set up one section as a replica of a commandant’s
quarters in the trenches. Before we could have a look at that Madame had to
dislodge a very pregnant pig who was most disgruntled (appropriately) at being
turfed out of her comfortable berth and into the muddy yard. Then we were
passed onto Monsieur who had amassed a large amount of guns, machine guns, medals,
uniforms and general war memorabilia,wanted to show us every single one of his
exhibits and wouldn’t allow any independent looking around. All this in French which
was hard enough for me and of no use at all to the person who had expressed an
interest in visiting. Main grumble of the day was from Monsieur who expressed
disappointment and annoyance that he isn’t permitted to purchase ammunition for
his patiently restored first world war Howitzer
.
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