Off the Eurostar in Lille, waited an hour with an Americano (funnier when I first wrote “with an American”, who would be Laurie, a North American…), then picked up the rental car and drove to Vimy. You see it approaching along the valley below and it doesn’t look like much. Then it’s a windy road up and then parking in a wide open plain with a few trees and sheep in the distance.
Then you see the memorial, huge in the distance looming over the valley below. The Canadian National Vimy Memorial inspired a respect both for the scope of the military action that occurred there, but also for the aesthetic beauty of the memorial itself.
The pictures speak for themselves. On this windy day with only a couple of other people about, there was time and quiet to reflect on what had happened here, of the 10,000 young Canadians (and more Germans) who died fighting for the ridge.
Historians say the Battle for Vimy Ridge (April 9-12, 1917) helped establish Canadian identity, a “defining moment for Canada.”
I just felt a profound sadness for the loss, the loss of a future, of what could but would never be for those frightened courageous young men. Most the same age as my sons.
Chaucer brought me to France. He lived through much of the Hundred Years war fought (primarily) between England and France (although those countries were very different in 1368). Many battles fought then were fought in Normandy and Picardy, not far from Vimy.
Seemingly endless battles and wars, death and dying. Our history – and how lucky we are to live where and when we are.
One could not help but be moved by the place.