Beaumont-Hamel Newfoundland Memorial

During our time in Northern France, we visited another significant Canadian First World War Memorial, the Beaumont-Hamel Newfoundland Memorial.  The scene we witnessed upon arrival was one of a beautiful park;  paths winding through tree-lined green fields off of a quiet country road; white, billowy clouds in a blue sky with the only sounds being the songbirds.  However, as with the Vimy Memorial, it didn't take much time or imagination for the sombre history of this land to sink in.

Just over a century ago, on July 1, 1916, this is where the first and the deadliest day of the Battle of the Somme was fought.  To be more precise,  57 000 Commonwealth soldiers were killed or injured on this day, the heaviest losses ever suffered by the British Army during one day of fighting.

Among those fighting were 800 men from the Dominion of Newfoundland, as part of the 88th Brigade, who were the third wave of attackers on that day.   At 9:15 am, when it was already tragically clear that the battle was not going according to plan, these men were nevertheless ordered to attack overland from their trench at the rear, entitled "St. John's Road", as the communication and support trenches that led to the front line trench were blocked with dead and injured soldiers.   It is said that the Newfoundlanders walked into an intense hail of machine gun and artillery fire with their chins down as if they were walking into a blowing blizzard.  Such an image.  It leaves one with a heaviness, as does the following fact:

The next morning only 68 of the 800 men were present at roll call.

The Beaumont-Hamel Newfoundland Memorial created by the sculptor Basil Gotto that is surrounded by trees and shrubs native to Newfoundland.

On this plaque are the names of 820 Newfoundland soldiers whose final resting places are unknown

A photo from the Veterans Affairs Canada Website of the opening of this memorial site on June 7, 1925.

The caribou was the emblem worn on the badge of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment.

The view from atop the memorial of the still visible labyrinth of British trenches below, and the flat stretch of no man's land just beyond.  The German trenches were located by the trees in the distance.

The front line British trench with the original metal supports still showing.  

This battle was not the surprise for the Germans that the British had intended, and the shelling beforehand that was meant to destroy the German barbed wire was a failure.  Consequently, the Newfoundland Regiment had only a few narrow passageways cut through the wire to continue towards the enemy, and it is at these vulnerable spots that the Germans knew to have their artillery aimed.  One of these paths through the wire was by the landmark known to the men as "Danger Tree" that was located to the right and midway across no man's land.  Most men did not make it past this point alive.  The original tree no longer stands, but this replica stands in the exact same spot.

Because of this savage loss, July 1st is an official day of mourning in Labrador and Newfoundland.  I never knew this.  But, on every Canada Day from now on, I too will pause to remember these men that died so senselessly on this bloody first day of the Somme.

The timing of our visit to Beaumont-Hamel couldn't have been better as the replica WW1 planes arrived for a low fly-by, and so we got a much better view of them than we had at the Vimy Memorial.   Grace even had one of the pilots wave at her.  It was even more meaningful when we found out afterwards that these two planes above were the ones that my friend's father had flown and had worked on at the Canadian Museum of Flight in Langley, B.C.   Thanks, Mr. Beales!  It was a treat to get a close-up view of your planes in action over French soil.

Before heading back to the Côte d'Azur, we spent a few days in the Normandy countryside at a house, Chalet D'Eawy, rented from the kindest people.  It was so peaceful and they had a ping-pong table and animals to boot, two big pluses for the girls.  We easily could have stayed there longer.

Our neighbours in Normandy dropping by to say hello at our kitchen window,

Our Normandy house was just down the road from a goat cheese farm.  We had never seen goats milked before, but this cat sure knew the routine and when to show up for a bowl of fresh milk.

We popped into Dieppe for lunch one day.

And then we swung by Dieppe's "Square du Canada".  Grace hadn't counted on it being quite so chilly!

Dieppe's Canada Monument marking the names and events that have linked Canada and Normandy for over 500 hundred years. 

The stone beach at Dieppe.

"Avoir du bol"

In early December, I was playing tennis with my friends and I hit a shot that clipped the net, dribbled over and quickly died winning Patrick and me a key point in our never-ending battle versus Jacques and Julien.  Jacques was quick to yell "Tu as du bol!!"  I was just as quick to flash my standard look of no comprehension whatsoever.  Patrick explained to me that Jacques was letting me know, as only Jacques can, that I was ever so lucky.  A couple of months later, we were in Avignon at a friend's place for dinner and I used the expression.  My friend went on to explain one of the possible origins of the expression.  The literal translation is "you have a bowl" so Claude explained to me that when food was scarce to have a bowl with something to eat was indeed lucky. Claude went on to explain that that was just one possible origin and that there are many others. Knowing Jacques as I do, I wouldn't be surprised if he thought the origin was a little more colourful than that.

I thought that I would open this post with this anecdote as I just got back from a tennis tournament in the South-West of France and for the whole weekend, I definitely felt that I not only had a bowl, but it was overflowing with goodwill.

In January, I let my good friend François know that I was interested in playing in some tennis tournaments in France before returning home.  François immediately organized getting me registered as a French player associated with the Antibes tennis club and he then signed me up for two tournaments in May.

Time then flew by as it is wont to do and before I knew it, I was piling into the club van with six other members of the Antibes Wheelchair Tennis Club for the eight-hour journey to make our way to Ossun in SouthWest France near Lourdes.

We arrived in Ossun around 5 pm and when I saw the lobby I knew that I was in for a special weekend.

I have participated in four tournaments in Canada and each one had 5-8 players and we formed a small side bracket to a much larger able-bodied tournament.  For this tournament, there was a total of 30 disabled participants organized into five different pools.  We were all staying in the same hotel and I felt that I was part of a very unique event.  I spoke with one of the organizers of the tournament and the tournaments origins are really something.

There aren't any wheelchair tennis players in this area.  This fact amazes me.  It turns out that in 2002, a member of the Juillan Tennis Club thought that it would be a good idea to offer a tournament for disabled athletes.  Realizing that it would be a difficult thing to pull off as a small community, they reached out to the neighbouring villages to see if any other clubs were willing to help them.  The villages of Azereix, Ossun and Louey all agreed to join with Juillan, and in 2005 the idea that was proposed 3 years earlier came to fruition and the first tournament was held.  I was a part of the thirteenth tournament and I was incredibly impressed.  The tournament is run by thirty-five volunteers and all weekend anytime I needed anything I just had to look for a blue bandana-clad volunteer and my needs were met.  I was even offered a glass of rosé before my first match (the competitive me declined it of course!!)

Volunteers were everywhere.  It was amazing to be part of an event that had such goodwill towards a group of dedicated wheelchair athletes.

On to the tennis.  In my first match, I faced a pleasant man from Marseille.  Frank is missing his left leg, so he joked that we could share a pair of shoes.

Frank and I had a great match and I eventually ended up winning 6-4, 2-6 and 6-4.  I often struggle with stress and negative self-talk during matches and this match was no different as I had many moments of self-doubt.  At one point though, I looked up and saw the snow-capped Pyrenees in the distance, heard a distant church bell chime and I said to myself "What are you stressed about Barry? " I took a deep breath, made sure to enjoy the moment and recognized how fortunate I was to be playing tennis at that particular moment.  With a renewed emphasis on just having fun, I finished up my match with Frank.  I then headed back to the main tennis complex at Azereix for lunch and once again the setting for the tournament reminded me how blessed I was.

The L'église d'Azereix is located just beside the town hall.

The tennis courts in Azereix with the church in the background.

Just beside the tennis courts is an ancient lavoir, or washing station, that dates from the middle ages.  

Looking back to the Pyrenees from the tennis courts.  This view reminded me a lot of our countryside in Mission.

I ended up losing my second round match to my good friend Alex and he went on to win the tournament.  In doubles, Patrick and I lost our first round match, but by that time I was in such good spirits from such a wonderful weekend, the score really didn't matter.

Patrick had an interesting Friday evening as he went for a quick stroll prior to dinner.  He was looking at RV's in a sales lot just beside the hotel and while he was perusing the stock on the lot, the saleslady closed the lot and locked Patrick in.  

Poor Patrick locked up.

After 90 minutes of incarceration, Patrick was liberated by the owner of the lot.  However, not without some drama beforehand,  as the lock securing Patrick's imprisonment had been damaged during his first escape attempt so it no longer worked.  The owner brought out the big armoury though and cut him loose.

The lock was no match for this tool.

Patrick rolling out to his freedom was a relief to all of us.

Patrick survived his ordeal none the worse for wear, but I am pretty sure that the video of his exploits was trending in Antibes over the weekend.  He jokingly told me later, with a smile on his face, that the business needed a sign saying "Unaccompanied Disabled Persons not Allowed"

The rest of the weekend went off without a hitch and I thoroughly enjoyed all of the great moments shared with my teammates and the volunteers.  I can't wait to head back to the South for this weekend's tournament in Perpignan.

The support of the community was incredible.  The local band came out on the final day and played while all of the participants made their way to the court for the presentation ceremony.

The four semi-finalists of my pool with Alexandre holding the trophy that he won.

The participants and the volunteers. 

On This Day

Vimy Ridge is a seven-kilometre long, partly forested escarpment that overlooks, at its highest elevation of 145 metres, the Douai Plains in the Pas-de-Calais region of Northern France, not the usual type of description for a landmark that has obtained prominence in a country an ocean away. Of course, the reason for its significance is well known in Canada, although not so much in its home country, apart from those living in its shadows, if our experience of speaking to our French friends is any indication.  We have found that only after explaining "la crête de Vimy" was an important Canadian battle during the Battle of Arras that the French we talked to could place it, even though France lost more than 100,000 men on its slope in 1915 in attempts to recapture it from the Germans.

However, recently Vimy Ridge and its dominant place in Canada's history may be better understood among the French, thanks to the coverage of the 100 year commemoration ceremony with its prominent guests (three princes, a prime minister and a president), and some 23,000 visiting Canadians, that took place there at 4:00 pm on April 9th.  We were among the proud Canadians on the field that day.

Our day began at 9:30 am to drive to one of the parking lots from which we were to take a shuttle up to the memorial site.  We thought this was adequately early to avoid the worst of the crowds.  We were right.  It was.  However, definitely not all the crowds.  Even then, it took us two hours of waiting in line to get through the bottle-necked security ticket and bag checks and onto one of the waiting, police-patrolled shuttle buses. The bag checkers had a good, long look at our whole quiche in a box we were taking up with us, but luckily they let it pass!

Looking BACK from our spot in the security line.  Yup, it was a day of some serious waiting.

The site of the Vimy Memorial sits on 107 hectares of land that is considered to be Canadian territory; a gift from France.  Although the large majority of participants that day were Canadians, there were French people among the crowd.  Nearing the top of the escarpment, you can't help but notice among the trees the mounds and craters that remain on this land from the shell and mine explosions from 100 years ago.  It was after entering this area that a French gentleman sitting in front of me on the shuttle turned and said, "Bienvenue chez vous" (Welcome home).  It was a very touching moment, and perhaps my very favourite, among a day of many.

Arriving "home" on Hill 145, Vimy Ridge.

It was nearing midday when I finally caught my first view of the white-pillared memorial in the distance.

On April 9, 1917, at 5:30 am on Easter Monday, the first wave of Canadian soldiers, 15,000 strong, headed out in the sleet and snow in their quest for control of Hill 145.  One century later, we were blessed with blue skies and the sun's heat on that same spot.

After arriving on site, we had another four-hour wait until the ceremony began as thousands of more people arrived on site.  You'll note the girls are wearing their "Givenchy Année du Canada" t-shirts.

The crowd became so thick it was difficult to pick a way through it to return to your spot.  For a good part of the afternoon, all the portable flush toilets broke down so there were only 8 port-a-potties meant for the visitors in wheelchairs servicing 23,000!  Yikes!  Well, at least waiting in the bathroom lines helped pass the hours....

Vintage WW1 aircraft circled early on in the ceremony after having made their way all the way from Langley, British Columbia.  This was a highlight for my Dad as these aircraft played an important role flying low over the battles to report back on the progress.  It was dangerous work and the casualty rate among pilots was high.

As my Dad remarked, for the rest of our lives we most certainly won't be part of such a significant Canadian event that takes place in another country.  The girls expressed their pride in being young Canadians and learned the role of Vimy Ridge in our history.  Without a doubt, it was a once in a life experience.

Although, perhaps not for Grace.  She told me she would like to return on April 9,  2067, to mark Vimy 150.

We just happened to be among the last dozen to leave the area, a full twelve hours after we had arrived.  The setting sun against the memorial's white limestone was beautiful as we waited to catch our evening shuttle back to the parking lot.

Returning the next day to get up and close to the Vimy Memorial was a must for us.  It was designed by the sculptor, Walter Allward and took fifteen years to build.  It was unveiled on July 26, 1936, by King Edward VIII with some 100,000 spectators, including 8,000 Canadian veterans, in attendance.

The day before, we had met a woman on our shuttle who had been there on that day in 1936.

Towering above us are the two 30 metre pillars, one representing Canada with a maple leaf and the other with a fleur-de-lys representing France.

The view from the top of Hill 145,  looking past the "Mother Canada" figure who is mourning for her fallen sons.  It was from here that the victorious Canadian soldiers watched the Germans fleeing in retreat across the Douai Plains.

Allward's search for the perfect building material was extensive.  In the end, he chose limestone from a Roman quarry in Croatia.  Interestingly, the same quarry that Emperor Diocletian had used for constructing his palace at Split.  Here is only a small portion of the wall in which the names of 11,168 Canadian soldiers, those with no known graves that were killed in France, are carved into the limestone.

The wreaths that were placed by President Hollande, the Governor General of Canada, Prince Charles (with a handwritten note by Prince Harry), and Prime Minister Trudeau during the ceremony.

We also took a tour of the rebuilt trenches and a section of the tunnels that were dug to bring the Canadian soldiers up to the front.  At some points, the Allies and the German trenches were a mere 25 metres from one another.

A photo of a section of the tunnel where 10,000 Canadian men were brought up to the front lines to wait out, ever so quietly so as not to alert the Germans, the night before going over the top.  What a tense, terrifying wait it must have been.

Much of the ground on Vimy Ridge is fenced off with warnings not to enter due to the possibility of unexploded munition.  We were told that even today farmers in the area lose 2 or 3 sheep a year due to them setting off a shell while grazing.

This is one of the very few remaining original wooden grave markers from WWI.  It marked the burial site of men lost from the 15th battalion of the 48th Highlanders during the battle of Vimy Ridge.  Up until this spring, it was in the basement of a Toronto church but has found a new home hanging in the Vimy Ridge interpretive centre.  These men are now buried at Nine Elms Cemetary in Arras.  You can read more about this grave marker's journey back to France 100 years later here.

At the Nine Elms Cemetary in Arras, we found some of the men's tombstones from the wooden cross above.  The girls were especially touched to see that teenagers as young as 16 had fought and died.

Along the edges of the recently ploughed farmer's field surrounding the cemetery, the girls were amazed to find remnants of century-old exploded shells. 

Here are the findings of this young archaeologist.  She has kept some as souvenirs, and when a French friend, Laetitia, showed interest in them, Lily gave her one to keep.  Laetitia thanked her and commented how remarkable it was that a young Canadian was giving a French woman an artefact from a French World War One battlefield.  She said she would keep it with her Grandfather's war medals.  

Another commonwealth cemetery in the foreground with the crosses of an immense French cemetery in the background that stretches as far as the eye can see.  I had never seen anything like it.  We also saw a vast German cemetery. 

Late in the afternoon, we entered into a field to the left of the Vimy Memorial that had just recently been cleared of any potentially dangerous material.  One of the many piles of harmless First World War material lies at our feet.  We had a most interesting conversation with this gentleman, Monty McDonald, who is spearheading the "Oaks of Vimy" project.  I told Grace if she does return in 50 years, this field will hopefully be filled with oak trees as it once was before the war destroyed them all.

3, 598 Canadian men lost their lives on this land.  Young men who never had a chance to experience what their lives could and should have been.  It ended right here, in the mud, the sleet; the last sounds heard the deafening noise of the artillery barrage; surrounded by the images of a brutal and bloody war.  They were so far away from their loved ones and their home.  I did feel closer to the reality of that violence and loss here. All in the name of gaining a few thousand metres.  

But to end off with an image that speaks more to what those men won for us, to hope and to peace, below is one of the last pictures I took on Vimy Ridge.