Western Front Tour ~ Pozieres

DAY SEVEN ~ Good Friday: 10th April 2009.
Today was a gleaming spring day. The birds sang and daffodils nodded in the gentle breeze at Thiepval. The massive red brick and concrete monument seemed incongruous and as alien as the notion that this blissfully green and peaceful river valley could have witnessed an event where 72,087 British soldiers could have simply disappeared. For their mothers, for their wives they would always be missing. Then you remember: Thiepval is in the Somme valley. On the battle which began on 1st July 1916, the British suffered 57,400 casualties. Of those 19,240 were killed. It was the darkest day in British military history. Kitchener’s Army of pals had been “two years in the making and ten minutes in the killing.”
Thiepval had changed considerably since my visit with Debbie in 1980. Then, I had not been impressed:
The memorial was a morbid, unemotional structure. Like a massive beast, it crouched amidst acres of immaculate parkland, with the missing within its belly. It was a hideous thing.
The adjacent cemetery was regimented both in terms of the rank order of the fallen and in terms of layout. The headstones at Le Trou Aid Post Cemetery yesterday seemed to be comparatively haphazard, as if they were placed where the bodies fell. At Thiepval, the rows were immaculate. Nonetheless, the parkland has grown since 1980, softening the forbidding impact of the memorial somewhat. The excellent Visitors’ Centre, which opened in 2003, also served to make the monument less austere and remote. The music of Elgar (Enigma Variations) and the warm narration of Christopher Timothy conspired to make the memorial more accessible.
At Pozieres, both the Australian 2nd Division Memorial (the Windmill) and the Australian 1St Division Memorial (Gibraltar) were moving testaments to the bravery and determination of the Australians, “who fell more thickly on this ridge than any other” (Charles Bean). At Pozieres, at Mouquet Farm and at the Glory Hole sector at La Boisselles, the strategically superior position of the Germans was patently obvious. They would have had a clear view of their attackers, who had no cover as they advanced up a moderate slope. How was it possible that Rawlinson or Haig had not anticipated the catastrophic impact of the machine guns from this vantage point? Had they no appreciation of the terrain? I had thought them culpable thirty years ago. As I stood again on he rim of the massive Lochnager Mine and looked towards Albert, I saw no reason to change my mind.
Like the Thiepval, the spire and golden Madonna of La Basilique Notre Dame de Brebieres in Albert seemed an ever present landmark. Albert had sleepy pockets where little seemed to have changed but there was a new ring road, a more bustling industrial area and a ubiquitous McDonalds. Bravely, we chose to avoid the Golden Arches. At lunch, a number of our party came to grief trying to order ham, cheese and tomato toasted sandwiches without the ham; they received double ham. When they removed the ham and simply ate the toast, the shopkeeper seemed bewildered at first, then contemptuous. At least salmon was on the evening menu at the hotel in Amiens.
We managed to visit Amiens and the Cathedral, built in 1220, The Stations of the Cross was in progress and singing echoed within the soaring roof and vast galleries hypnotically, beautifully. Amidst the music, statues and the stained glass, there were two especially memorable features. Firstly, a plaque to the memory of “the soldiers of the Australian Imperial Force who valiantly participated in the victorious defence of Amiens from March to August 1918 and gave their lives for the cause of justice, liberty and humanity.” Secondly, the Weeping Angel, sculpted by Nicholas Blasset in 1628. Apparently, this statue was a very popular one during The Great War.