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.

"Année du Canada" dans une ville française

A few weeks ago, we flew across the country to the city of Lille that is located very near the Belgium border.  This was the only trip during our year in Europe that we had planned well in advance.

In my Grade Thirteen (an eighties thing in Ontario) English Literature class, we studied Timothy Findlay's "The Wars". This read made an impression on me and when it was time to for me to complete an end-of-novel project, I felt pretty motivated to learn more about this time in Canada's history.  Luckily, I had a fair collection of resources right in my own home, a major score in pre-internet days, as the First World War had been an interest of my Dad's for as long as I could remember. So, I not only had his expertise, but also a book collection and a two-album record set with recordings of speeches and songs from the Great War which I made a large part of my project. I remember being very pleased when, after my presentation, my teacher, Ms. Scott, asked to borrow the albums to record a copy for her husband.

Since then, I have maintained an interest in the First World War and I had very much wanted to visit some of the battlefields where Canadians had fought on our return to France.  It was Barry who first discovered that there was a new visitor's centre that was to open at the Vimy Memorial to mark the 100th anniversary of this battle.  So, April 2017 seemed like a meaningful time to make this trip to Northern France and we made the commitment by booking our hotel and rental car in April 2016.

Our first stop was the city of Lille.  Along with the slight drop in temperature and the change in architecture, it was also evident we had left the south of France by the drink of choice among the locals enjoying the last of the evening light;  robust pints of beer crowded tables instead of wine glasses of rosé.

The picturesque Clock Tower at the Chambre de Commerce in Lille.

After a brief overnight stay in Lille, we rented a car and drove to the city of Arras which was to be our base for the next few days. Lily has remarked on several occasions that you just don't see many Canadian flags in France.  Well, we were about to find Lily what she had been missing!  In Arras, we saw Canadian flags in many of the shop windows.  As well, we saw large groups of Canadian students decked out in their Vimy 100 matching jackets and we popped into a building off of one of the city's large Flemish-styled squares that had a room converted into the Canadian visitor's headquarters for the week-end.

In front of Arras' city hall that also houses their tourist information office 

A large poppy memorial made up of many notes of gratitude displayed in Arras' Place des Héros.  Prime Minister Trudeau and President Hollande added their two circles the day after our visit.

Picking up some souvenirs in the Grande Place before heading into the Vimy 100 Canadian Information Centre in the square.

The girls were beginning to realize that they were part of something special at the Canadian Vimy Visitors Headquarters in Arras.  They were very interested in adding a pin to a Canadian map to represent their hometown.

On the eve of the big Vimy commemoration, we, not surprisingly, couldn't get up to the memorial site.  We did, however, find ourselves in the town of Givenchy-en-Gohelle that is situated just below the now wooded side of  Hill 145, the highest point of the Vimy Ridge.  Driving into town, we heard some music coming from the city square so thought we would stop and have a look around.  This is the sign we pulled up beside while parking the car.

"Without their courage, we would not be here.  Thank-you."

Many Canadian flags were flying in front of town hall.

We saw quite a few of these about town.

It was a crowd of locals, many wearing red...

and in fact, most of the school children were wearing red t-shirts with the below emblem:

The Year of Canada.

Unknowingly, we had stumbled upon the town's 100-year anniversary celebrations of the victory at Vimy Ridge.

The Town Hall schedule of events I found later on their website.

At one point, there were three 3.5 metres tall giant puppets dancing.  It was only later that I fully understood their significance.  In this area of France, it is an ancient tradition for each town to create a "géant" (giant) in the image of a local hero.  Before April 8, 2017, Givenchy-en-Gohelle was giantless.  The giant puppet above, "La Géante Marie de la Motte", was borrowed from a neighbouring village to help unveil the town's brand new giant!

And, presenting Givenchy-en-Gohelle's giant hero "John", who is dressed in the Canadian First World War soldier's uniform, This giant honours Private John Arsenault, a coal miner from Sidney, Nova Scotia who, as part of the 85th Battalion, fought and died on April 9, 1917 in the Battle of Vimy Ridge that liberated this town from German occupation.

A photograph of John Arsenault.

The mayor of the town, Pierre Senechal, gave a speech expressing the gratitude this town still feels for the sacrifices made by the Canadian soldiers a century ago.  Afterwards, a band played both "Oh Canada" and "La Marseillaise".  It was really quite moving.

The town has renamed a street after the 85th Battalion. This street was chosen, as explained by the mayor, because it is used daily by the children on their way to school and would help preserve this history for future generations.

We purchased a special bottle of beer at these celebrations!

The big day at the Vimy Memorial was still to come for us, but we already felt very fortunate to have serendipitously stumbled upon one of the most important afternoons in Givenchy-en-Gohelle's année du Canada.

And, to top it all off, Barry entered into a friendly conversation with a local that made for a memorable moment.  The Frenchman explained that he was an amateur archaeologist and had a gift that he wanted to give to a Canadian. He showed Barry a one hundred-year-old bullet from a British rifle that he had found in a farmer's field and then gave it to him as a gift.

Having a closer look at Barry's newly acquired WW1 bullet.

We drove back to Arras feeling very excited about the next day's event.

They call me "Caribou"

I was introduced to tennis by my father when I was 10 years old.  All through my teen years, my dad always had time to go and hit the ball with me at the Salmon Arm Tennis Club.  I have wonderful memories of all those hits with my dad and I really appreciate that he always made the time for me. Into my early twenties, I began to coach tennis and play in tournaments in Vancouver as I was attending university.

Losing my leg in 1991 put an end to my ability to play tennis.  I remember well one afternoon about four months after my accident when I met the many prosthetists from the Vancouver area.  They sat in a semi-circle around me and the only question I had was, "Which one of you can build me a leg that will allow me to play tennis?"  They were all quite honest with me and let me know that tennis was a game that would be a real challenge for me based upon the extent of my injuries.  That summer, about 10 months after my accident, I went home to Salmon Arm and I attempted to play tennis with my father.  I lasted about fifteen minutes before I quit and I vowed to never play tennis again.

Two years ago, I was invited to participate in a "Try it Out" event put on by Wheelchair BC Sports and a local physiotherapy clinic.  I tried rugby, basketball and athletics in a wheelchair.  The last sport I tried was wheelchair tennis and I was hooked right away.  The fact that I had played before was a great boon to my game as I was able to handle myself quite well and already had all the strokes.  I began to go to weekly sessions and by June 2015 I started to play in tournaments.  That was a huge thrill for me as I loved bringing the competitive aspect of tennis back into my life.  I continued to play last year and I enjoyed a bit more success on the court and I have to say I am a much better wheelchair player than I ever was as an able-bodied tennis player.  By the end of the summer of 2016, I had somehow managed to attain a national ranking of ninth in Canada.  This is not nearly as impressive as it sounds as there are not that many players in our country, but it is still something that I am proud of.

When we left for France, I packed my racquet with the hope that I might be able to work on my game here in France.  One Monday in September I made my way to the local tennis club.

Seeing the multiple clay courts basking in the gorgeous Mediterranean sunshine made me extremely excited.  I walked up to the office and in my best french asked if there was any way that I could possibly play wheelchair tennis at the club.  They replied, "Why don't you go out to court 14 and ask the president of the wheelchair tennis club and find out."  

As luck would have it, Monday mornings was one of the set times for wheelchair tennis.  I made my way out to the court and met François Heyraud for the first time.  Little did I know what a great friend he would become. Not only did he invite me to join them to play, he also had an old wheelchair that he was willing to lend me for the year.

For the past seven months, I have been able to work on my tennis and my french with an amazing group of people that I feel very blessed to call my friends.  The club has accepted me with open arms and I feel part of their close-knit group that behaves more like a family than a club.  We meet twice a week for coffee at 9 am and then play tennis for three hours before having lunch together in the club's restaurant.

You know you are part of a group when they begin calling you by a nickname.  It was probably my third time at tennis when Jacques began calling me "Le Caribou!"  I much preferred this to "Garry" which is the other name he tends to call me.  The moniker "Caribou" has stuck and I have to admit that it brings a smile to my face each time it is used.  My family has even become "La famille Caribou."  

As our time in France nears its end, I am quite sad that my time with my french sporting community that has adopted me with such warmness is coming to an end.  I am lucky to have had this time with them and I am looking forward to this May when we are playing in three different tournaments in Southern France.  I am also looking forward to continuing the friendship that we have established for years to come.  

I will end with some photos from today's session in the sun: