Three Days with Benji in Picardy part 2

Le petit dejeuner - in my opinion the best meal of the day when you are in France, and outside a tent in decent weather is the best place to eat it. There is something about French baguettes - probably the flour they use (ble noir I think) that is finer than our stuff, so their bread always tastes fantastic. I had a really full day ahead - attempting to visit as many sites on the Somme battlefield as possible in one day, so needed some early refuelling. The stove is one of the best presents ever (from no.1 son many years ago now) - the burner, with its own ignition that still works as well as ever - sits inside the nest of saucepans, and so is very compact - you just need a gas canister to go with it. So great for motorbike trips and backpacking etc.

I had realised half way across the channel that the Thursday I was here was "L'Assomption" and a French national holiday. I think it's all about the Catholic belief that Mary the mother of Jesus remained a virgin throoughout her life (poor Joseph) and was sinless, so therefore couldn't possibly have died, and was "assumed" into heaven. I reckon most French people see that for the myth I think it is, but who cares when you have a national holiday out of it. Bit like the Thatcher government hating a national holiday to celebrate Mayday introduced by the earlier socialist regime but not daring to cancel it.
Anyway today's first stop was the Somme museum at Peronne, where thankfully the musee was ouvert even though the town was virtually lifeless. It has an impressive entrance.

Some contemporary newspapers that make it sound as if everyone on the Western Front was going to have a ripping good time for a few months.

Unhappy, dissatisfied, feeling you aren't doing your bit for good old Blighty? Come and have fun being blown to bits on the Somme. Mud, barbed wire, machine guns, heavy artillery - what more could a chap want to while away those long winter months?

This speaks for itself - worth blowing up (excuse the pun) and reading

This museum was a little more expensive than the one in Albert, though quite reasonable. But in my opinion it wasn't quite as good. I liked the way they laid things out in open pits though.

The exhibits had boards around them telling the story of the war in French, English and German. I was too short of time to try to improve my French reading skills so stuck to English

As before the most poignant exhibits for me were the ones taken from the battlefield as they lay and put on show.

I think the ball bearings in the bowl would have been in the grenade or a mortar or similar. Imagine hundreds of these flying at you so fast you couldn't see them. You wouldn't have much chance.

The everyday mixed with the materiel of war

Outside another opportunity to recover in more tranquil surroundings. Peronne is actually on the Somme river, so has lots of water. I was keen to press on to the next destination but would have liked to have stayed for a while in what seemed a lovely town.

Preparing for an open air mass to celebrate L'Assomption. It actually looked like a good contemporary expression of Christian faith and the atmosphere of informality made me feel more positive about the French Catholic Church.

Worth a read if you have time to expand sufficiently

Next stop was one of the most impressive places I visited - the South African memorial at Longueval. I arrived at the same time as some more English folk, and we found the museum closed for the holiday and the gate into the memorial shut, but easily opened. We decided to risk the wrath of anyone watching and wander inside.

Now war history might not be your thing, so I won't bore you with something that I find compulsive and riveting, but will just say that the setting is a place called Delville Wood, and this is a kind of South African synonym for bravery. In July 1916 a total of 3153 South Africans fighting for the British Empire were told to take the wood "at all costs." This is pretty much what happened, and when they were relieved 5 days later only 142 came out unscathed, with a total of 780 finally being reassembled. 

All the Somme cemeteries had one of these outside as far as I could see

These were markers of some kind with what appeared to be street names on them, but I didn't find out their significance - I guess if the museum had been open there would have been some information.

This is "the last tree." The forest was decimated by the battle, and replanted, but they kept one tree from 1916.

For some reason - perhaps the tranquil arborial setting, there was somehow something quite moving about this solitary tree.

It made you think about what it had witnessed nearly a century ago

Some better pictures of trenches coming, but you can see what remains of the places where the soldiers dug themselves in.

No comment needed

This place will live for a long time in my memory

Now I think this picture might be out of order and belong to a different place, but what struck me about so many gravestones was not simply the engraving "A soldier of the Great War known unto God" or something similar, but that he had been identified as belonging to a particular regiment - here the Coldstream Guards. I presume the implication is that there was enough of the soldier remaining to identify his uniform but not enough to be able to say who he was.

Line upon line, row upon row, as far as the eye can see

This could be one of dozens of places I passed. Every road I drove down I passed these - not the celebrated tourist sites but "just another cemetery" with row upon row of graves. This one was British - as were the majority - but served as a reminder that the rolling hills and small towns I was passing through to cross the battlefield in the space of half an hour cost the lives of countless thousands of mainly young men, each mile gained costing days of bitter fighting and almost unimaginable carnage.

One of the "must see" places - the Australian / French memorial at Villers-Bretonneux. Perhaps in terms of architecture one of the most impressive it commemorates the Anzacs who, with some French units, took Pozieres on 23rd July after the disaster they had in Gallipoli.

An imposing entrance - just the warm-up show

 My camera really isn't able to do justice to the size of the main monument

Getting a bit closer I had to take the picture in two halves - but even then the scale is difficult to convey

The walls contain the names of the 11,000 missing Australian soldiers who died in France. The walls are covered with names - not all of them "Bruce"

The view from the top of the tower gives some idea of the scale and the comradeship between French and Australian soldiers is illustrated by the two national flags side by side 

 The landscape of the Somme battlefield. A bit like Leicestershire only warmer and dryer I thought.

 Of course it was a bit of a game for these two French girls - may it remain so for them. Nice to know Thierry Henry is still a French icon in spite of his advancing years.

 The plaques I found really well presented

 Enough information but not so much that it became tedious

 Another obligatory "unknown soldier" grave. So very many of these

Encouraging that some Australian visitors were there, and some had clearly come to visit graves - I believe the flag was Australian rather than British

And if you want the story here it is

 By now it was about 4 pm and time for some late lunch. I had intended to eat at the memorial but it didn't feel right somehow.

 And a nice rest for Benji too. Note the yellow hi-visibility jacket - I think I didn't see a single other motorcyclist wearing one, and they are supposed to be compulsory in France as far as I know.

And on a lighter note - this happens all over the place in France - this chap and his wife drove into the picnic lay-by I was in and didn't bother finding a tree or bush, just whipped it out and relieved himself by the side of the car in full view of the 7-8 of us using the picnic spot.
More to follow..........

Three Days with Benji in Picardy part 1

8 a.m. - Dover docks and the boat about to leave.
The last three days of sabbatical - and somewhere between grandchildren and cricket I managed to fit in three days in France. Booking a cheap ferry meant a departure at 8 a.m. from Dover - about three hours by car from home, but only two and a half by Benji at 3.45 a.m. Stopping for fuel and a coffee just outside Dover at 6.15 then arriving at Dover docks where I met some other bikers - two of whom wouldn't speak to me as I had a BMW and they were on some Japanese contraptions designed to give you backache after 10 minutes hard riding.
So I chatted to a nice Polish couple who were taking their very nice Moto Guzzi across France, Italy and through the Czech Republic to Poland to visit their relatives. I confess to having been envious - o well perhaps next year (all except visiting the relatives that is.)

Not a bluebird in sight. Time for some breakfast and catch up on email and facebook. 

 Now this is what I call keeping in touch. I think I counted four mobile 'phones and two tablets. I would have loved to know what she did for a living.

I decided to eschew the luxuries and speed of the autoroutes for a nice leisurely drive from Dunkirk to the beautiful town of Albert, partly to avoid the French police who are apparently having a blitz on bikers in a bid to raise revenue for the government apparently. There are more rules than you can shake a policeman's truncheon at, including it being compulsory to wear a yellow reflective jacket and now, apparently, to have reflective stickers on your helmet. I decided the stickers were ridiculous - and, as far as I know, potentially damaging to the helmet, so decided to take a chance on that one. I can honestly say that I did not see one other biker with a yellow jacket, yet alone helmet stickers on. Anyhow, here we are at the municipal site in Albert. I like French municipal sites - they are invariably clean and well run, cheap and welcoming to bikers travelling alone. This was no exception, the very pleasant gentleman running the site and I having fun communicating in a combination of pigeon French and pigeon English. Not sure whose was worst.

 The site was near a number of fishing and boating lakes, and this gorgeous river ran next to the road and into the town centre, about a mile away.

 Albert has the most amazing church that dominates the skyline, and seems far too big for the size of town, but it was to prove a useful landmark when navigating round the nearby countryside when I wasn't using my satnav.

 This was the first port of call - the Somme museum in the town centre, and as I had arrived in Albert for lunchtime I had the afternoon and evening to enjoy what the place had to offer. I had chosen Albert as a central location to visit the attractions relating to the battlefield of the Somme that achieved fame - or rather notoriety - in 1916 when the British went for "The Big Push" so wonderfully illustrated in the last Blackadder episode with tens of thousands of men walking across No-Man's Land to their death. Mrs. P isn't into world war things, so having done Normandy last year the Somme seemed an ideal place for a solo visit.

 This museum was fantastic - I would give it six out of five on Trip Advisor. It begins with a walk down a passage to the underground tunnels where the exhibits are held, beginning with a film alternating between French and British commentary.

 

 Among other things there are cabinets full of artifacts just picked up off the battlefields....

 ... some of which are poignantly mundane.

It makes you stop and think when you realise that all this stuff was once in the hands of the men whoso bravery was only matched by the stupidity and arrogance of those who led them.

 The German trenches seemed much posher than the allied ones

 Some of the machine guns that wreaked such havoc on the first day of the Battle of the Somme, when 58,000 British soldiers were either killed or injured

I kept thinking of Corporal Jones in Dad's Army and his recollections of former wars and the famous words "They don't like it up 'em." Well you wouldn't, would you?

 At the bottom you can see some flare guns - used to give the signal to go "over the top."

 An endearing array of hand grenades, whose sophistication and capacity to kill was enhanced through trial and error throughout the war.

Some of the artillery shells that were supposed to render the Germans senseless, though I suspect these were the smaller ones.

 The spiked German helmet most of us have seen was only used in the first bit of the war - it didn't really offer much protection and was really for ceremonial purposes. They changed it for the kind of thing seen on the top shelf. Now I didn't know that before.

Now in this war gas really was used, though the effects were apparently less severe than is often thought. But if you were on the receiving end I suppose you wouldn't think that.

 There were many plaques like this. See part 2 or three for the site of the Newfoundlanders' battle - Beaumont Hamel really is impressive.

 This was brilliant - these are different ornaments and devices made from the spent artillery shells that failed to prevent the Germans manning their machine guns when the advance took place.

 Insignificant looking stakes - these were the metal stakes that held the barbed wire in place that wreaked such havoc, thousands of men being caught on it while the German machine-gunners just picked them off

 Poignant - the last man to be killed before the Armistice came into effect - by a sniper who probably thought he would have one last pot shot before the whole thing ended. A testimony to the futility of the whole thing.

 So many medals and regimental regalia - you could almost sense what camaraderie there would have been even in such a dire environment

 Artillery carriage wheels I believe - they still used horses to pull things around.

 More discarded detritus

 The staggering numbers of those who perished. This section at the end of the museum also had reproduced letters of soldiers sent to their loved ones at home. These letters were perhaps the most moving exhibits of all; in some of them you can sense the desperation of husbands and fathers writing to wives and children knowing that they would probably never see them again, but trying to sound positive and cheerful. Reduced me to tears.

 The beautiful fountain in the middle of Albert - how is it the French do these small provincial towns so much better than we do?

And finally the inside of that church - huge place but positively I had the impression a lot of good things go on here, even if bowing and scraping to the virgin before visiting the confessional isn't exactly my cup of tea.
More to follow.................