Many of the small towns that dot the landscape of Northern France display a monument. On it may be something that mentions “enfants,” which is the French word for baby. This term refers to the people who died for their country. The rooster symbolizes the Gallic rooster, a French symbol of courage, vigilance, and bravery. We noticed these memorials right away on our road trip to learn more about WWI. In this stone, it became immediately apparent that, despite over a hundred years having passed, this war is very personal. It was fought on these soils. For the average American, war is something that happens in a foreign land; here, war was everywhere, involving the loss of innocents. I highly recommend two novels: All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque and Fall of Giants by Ken Follett. Remarque captures the futility of war, while Follett helps the reader to understand how it came to be.
Our first stop on what became a journey along the Western Front of WWI was the Musée de la Grande Guerre in Meaux, France. Its focus was on the events that caused the catastrophic situation and on what life was like for the people involved in trench warfare. We ventured through a replica of a trench and encountered school children learning from their teacher. A fundamental explanation for the war is this: France humiliated Prussia, a German state, in 1870. Wanting retribution, the Germans spent many years rebuilding their military and teaching their children the importance of this idea. When an Austro-Hungarian prince was assassinated in Serbia, Germany sided with Austria, creating a triad of countries, along with a reluctant Italy. They lined up against France, England, and Russia. Initially, the Germans invaded Belgium, hoping for a quick entry into France and a swift victory. That did not happen, with the war lasting a little over four years.
We continued east to Verdun, which held some of the bloodiest battles of the war, then turned west to the Somme area of France, finishing in the Flanders area of Belgium. These things I learned: war is the decision of a few but affects the millions. Complete villages were leveled; some were rebuilt, others left to stand as witnesses.
The memories hold today. In the town of Ypres, Belgium, a Last Post Ceremony is held every night at 8:00 at the Menin Gate. Volunteer buglers from the Ypres Fire Brigade play Last Post, and part of Laurence Binyon’s “For the Fallen” is read:
“They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.”
Small groups of people lay wreaths, and the ceremony ends with Reveille.” Silence and respect are a given. It was pretty moving, especially given all the time that has passed.
Our final museum was a favorite, the In Flanders Fields Museum, in Ypres (Ieper), Belgium. Using interactive displays, the focus was on experiencing the war. We were given a poppy bracelet and allowed to select two people to follow throughout the displays. I found three of the exhibits especially haunting. The first included soldiers from each side sharing a moment on Christmas Eve, when they put down their weapons and shared cigarettes, songs, and soccer. After the first year, 1914, fraternization with the enemy was prohibited. Another focused on nurses and doctors explaining how they worked on the wounded, and the final exhibition was a film that shared people today exploring the area and finding the lasting effects of the continuous bombings. Drones show how the landscape changed forever in that war. Unfortunately, the two women whom I followed did not survive the war, succumbing to the bombing of their homes. But this activity put a face on a statistic.
In Flanders Fields by John McCrae
In Flanders fields, the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
This war was referred to at the time as the Great War, and it was hoped to be the war that ended all others. We know this did not happen, but a visit to these places ensures that you understand the world a little bit better.
Well done, Love. Well Done !