Chateau Chenonceau
Gare Du Nord is awash with all varieties of travelers, the workers, business men, holiday makers, and day trippers like me. Many stand with heads back observing the click, click, click action of the TID Board (train information board), yellow and black flashing French destinations and departure times every few minutes. I love the sound, it means I am closer to ride and my journey to the Somme. For a three month trip away to Ireland, United Kingdom, France and Italy this day was the only trip that I had researched before departing Australia. It means a great deal to me and I feel so many emotions right now.
Last night my thought of this journey returned to my feeling of sadness, as I think of the loss at war, then my own personal loss. It is difficult to imagine my loss multiplied for all the loss of war.
The train slides slowly out of the station, until it is well out of the rail yard, unit it picks up speed and it seems as the engines warm up, we go faster. I see gypsy shanties, already busy motor ways, and a river; a swan nestled on a little island in a dam, huge power lines and small villages.
Green and gold fields are flashing up to my window again, under a haze of fog. The closeness of the fog puts another layer of somber on this day. This will also be one of discovery and excitement. I have been planning the trip for so long. What will I find, what will I see, what will I really feel? Will I find my Great Uncle Metre’s name at Villers-Bretonneux. Of course I am hopeful, but you never know.
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Australian Memorial of Le Hamel
There is so much history, many harsh tragic facts. It was so very emotional when I found my Great Uncle Metre’s name on the wall of the missing at the Australian War Memorial at Villers-Bretonneux, among around 10,000 names of missing Australian Soldiers. I wonder if Uncle Metre’s body will ever be found. They are still finding so many. Five British soldiers were found just last year in a field we drove past at Bullecourt. I wish I could remember more. How is it, the trenches and remnants’ are still so close to the surface, like lots of emotions I imagine.
How difficult life must have been, to be so cold, so wet, so hungry, in so much pain. Imagine being happy the ground was frozen, as it was better than sloshing around in the muddy, wet conditions. Imagine the despair felt as your friends lay dying beside you, and there was nothing you could do to ease their pain, other than maybe holding their hand, say a prayer, and swear that you will send their love to their families.
Then it would be the same again, day after day…
What do I feel now? Overwhelmed for being a participant in such an extraordinary day; Feeling numbed by all the ruthless facts and numbers of casualties; 60,000 Australian soldiers lost their lives in World War I. Ten thousand Australian soldiers who lost their lives were never identified. Certainly there is a large part of my mind that will stay occupied with these thoughts for a long time.
There is still much passion out there in the fields. That is what would keep Peter (tour guide) and his wife busy in their tour business – helping people like me to learn the hard life of those that fought for us. Not just for people who had relatives in the war, but anyone’s who is interested in why we have the Australia we have today. LEST WE FORGET.
And there is no doubt in my mind that what our brave soldiers fought for in the war enables me to have the freedom to journey the world until my heart desires. And I had much desire for my next stop in Tours south of Paris.
Statue dedicated to Australian Imperial Forces near Bullecoourt
Saint Gatien Cathedral, Tours
Next stop…………..
