Epitaphs on New Zealand Soldiers Headstones

Whether you are visiting a Commonwealth War Graves Commission Military Cemetery for the very first time or as a regular visitor, there are a number of things that give you that first visual stimulus…the neat rows of headstones, the trees, the architecture, the planting. Closer inspection reveals the care and attention of the Commission’s forefathers in ensuring that each headstone is special and unique to the soldier it is commemorating: the Regimental badge in pride of place, the soldiers name and military detail, and then on the majority of headstones, that intensely personal and family gift, the Epitaph. Men who fought with the Dominion forces, irrespective of their military role, are commemorated with their national symbol. Many of these have epitaphs too with, for my money, those from Australia often being the most heart-rending. And then, the men of New Zealand, whose headstones don’t bear an Epitaph, the reasons for which have been lost to time, but, so it appears, is largely assumed to be due to the costs involved and the decision of the New Zealand government that families had already paid enough by experiencing the loss of a loved one and no further financial payment was acceptable.

But, the Commission is anything but a stickler for rules – variations in the wording to commemorate Unknown Soldiers graves, the adoption of the broad cross on some Canadian and Australian headstones, British regiments which usually have the Latin cross suddenly appearing with the badge within the broad cross, epitaphs well over the set approved number of characters and, if you know where to look, epitaphs on New Zealand soldiers headstones.

Like many of us, I was presented with this quirk to the rules a few years ago, by someone who had seen it on a thread on a forum. I’m not bringing you ground breaking research here, just a window to the variations on a theme that makes up the collective element of remembrance. I don’t know why these six soldiers have epitaphs, while the rest of their countrymen don’t. The graves are predominately of enlisted men, with only one officer amongst the number. They were all born in parts of Britain, but so were many of their comrades. Five of the six are buried in the same cemetery: one is buried elsewhere. They were all lost in 1918, most in the same series of operations during the German Spring Offensive. It’s just one of the seemingly inexplicable elements that makes visiting the cemeteries such a special experience.

Private Donald McLean

Donald served with the 2^nd Wellington Regiment, and was killed on 29^th March 1918. He was the son of Angus and Annie McLean, of Clashmore, Clashnessie, Lochinver, Sutherlandshire and is buried at Doullens Communal Cemetery No 1. His epitaph reads, ‘I Am The Resurrection And The Life. Inserted By His Sorrowing Parents’.

 

Serjeant Harry Osborne Black

Buried in the same Cemetery, and killed on the same day as Donald (and yes, serving in the same regiment) Serjeant Black was the son of John Henry and Mary Black, of Dundooan, Coleraine, Ireland. His epitaph reads, ‘He died that others might live, ever remembered by his parents and brothers’.

Brigadier General Harry Townsend Fulton CMG, DSO

As the last of only three New Zealanders who were killed holding the rank of Brigadier General, it might be expected that an exception may have been made for a man of such rank, but whilst Harry Fulton was an Army man through and through, (he was born in India as a son to a Lieutenant-General in the Royal Artillery), he never actually lived for any time in England. Perhaps it was his wife, working as a nurse at the New Zealand Hospital in Brockenhurst who managed to get as his epitaph, ‘I Thank My God Upon Every Remembrance Of You’. He too is buried in Doullens Communal Cemetery No 1.

Rifleman Alexander Macrae

Alexander served with the 3^rd New Zealand Rifle Brigade, and died on 5^th May 1918. He is buried in the adjacent cemetery, Doullens Communal Cemetery No 2 (technically a separate cemetery, but you can easily walk between the two) and is also a Scot, from Ross-shire. His epitaph is one that is seen on many headstones, ‘Greater Love Hath No Man Than This, That A Man Lay Down His Life For His Friends’.

Rifleman John Mair

Another Scot and another New Zealand Rifle Brigade man, but from the 4^th Battalion, killed just a week after Alexander, on the 12^th May 1918. John’s parents lived in Mount Vernon, Glasgow and his epitaph reads, ‘Until the Day Breaks and the Shadows Flee Away’. John is also commemorated on the local war memorial in Sandymount Cemetery, close to where his parents lived.

Private Norman Williams

Keeping the Celtic connection, Norman Williams is the last of our six, and is buried in the small Courcelles-au-Bois Communal Cemetery Extension. The records provided by the CWGC show that his parents lived in Chepstow, Monmouthshire, but, given his epitaph, it is my guess that they returned there after living in Bristol, which is presumably where Norman lived before heading to New Zealand. He served with the 2^nd Wellington Regiment and was killed on 6^th April 1918. His epitaph reads, ‘Beloved Son of George & Ruth Williams Bristol, Eng He Died For You And Me’.

Courcelles-au-Bois is an interesting location to visit, as it is one of the few cemeteries that has the red Corsehill or Locharbriggs sandstone to mark the graves. As a separate aside, I am aware of six cemeteries that have this stone as opposed to the more usual Portland or Hopton Wood limestone for grave markers. I wonder if there is a definitive list of these?

I know of colleagues who have also found these graves when spending a bit of time by themselves, as neither of the cemetery locations are on the main ‘tour group’ routes, so if you are in the habit of going off the beaten track when you can, maybe check these locations. Not only that, but seeing something as opposed to reading it or hearing about it allows you to be more specific should you have interest expressed from any fellow travellers in this particular topic.

A Personal Reflection – Thirty Years On

Sometimes it’s good to spend time re-examining your roots and why it is you do such a thing. I have lost track of the number of people I have spent time with over the years on the battlefields of the Western Front. The overwhelming majority have been inspired by what they have seen, learnt and heard me share with them. But, working for a living as a Battlefield Guide is that something that some find hard to accept, in that it takes away an element of the purity of the battlefields, and certainly, in recent years, the increased number of visitors to some of the key locations has ensured that the original peace and tranquillity that a small number enjoyed in times past is no longer there; or perhaps, more often, rarely there. As a contributor to this, I accept all accusations levelled in my direction on that score and also feel an element of guilt in being part of the ‘tourist trail’, which many trips, out of pure necessity, have become. It’s as if you are destroying what makes you…..

When my brother suggested that he and I take my father to the battlefields for a birthday gift, it was and ideal opportunity to reflect on how the experiences of an individual who I never met, my grandfather, has helped shape my life.

Many of my guests ask the inevitable question as to how I found myself in the job I do, and it always seems polite to tell them.

I’m not sure exactly when it all started, but when I was very young, I distinctly remember my dad telling me on more than one occasion that his father had fought in the trenches, that he’d been gassed, that he’d been taken as a prisoner of war and that, despite being born in Wiltshire, he had fought with the Canadians. This was quite sufficient information for a young mind to accept, and sometimes his medals would be shown, occasionally stories passed down would be shared and the reason for the Canadian side of our family was all wrapped up in this story of times past.

In 1983, my father found a copy of Before Endeavours Fade. How he found it discarded on the quiet Hampshire lane where he lives is something we have never understood. We looked at it, and places that are now very familiar appeared for the first time. On one page there was a small black and white photo of the 1^st Canadian Division Memorial at Vancouver Corner. It was probably taken, as were most of the photos, by Rose Coombes, the now sadly deceased author of what is still accredited as being the best guide book to the whole of the Western Front. This was the spark that ignited the interest. My dad and I decided that we would go over to Ypres for a few days the following April.

We went by ferry; there was no tunnel back then, in his Renault 5. I managed to persuade him to let me drive some of the way, the first time I had driven in Europe. I recall arriving in Ypres in the Spring sunshine. We sat in the Groote Markt, had a beer, marvelled at the architecture and the re-built Cloth Hall. Later, we booked into a room at Old Tom. It probably looks exactly the same today. We paid in Belgian Francs….you got a lot of those to the pound. It was all a bit strange and new.

         

Using Before Endeavours Fade, we found Vancouver Corner and the Memorial. We took a few photos, as it cost to have them developed back then. We drove around the local area…we might have been looking in the right direction at times, but, I suspect, often, we weren’t. It didn’t matter, we were near where this deeply personal event had happened and at the time, that was good enough for me….and it was good enough for my dad too. It was quite an emotional time for him, as he recalled his father who, as a result of his wartime experiences, suffered with a terrible cough, never had the strength to kick a ball around with his sons or to take them swimming, but, who had, through hard work and a touch of luck, lived a good life, as he had taken the doctors words at face value on his return to Montreal in 1919 and had gone to live somewhere warm to help his damaged lungs. My father grew up in the West Indies, living his early years in Trinidad.

Whilst on this first trip we did other things too….we visited Hill 60 and the French Ossuary at Kemmel. We walked in Plugstreet Wood and found the location of John McCrae’s ADS when it was no more than a concrete structure in a field by the side of the road. We rocked up to the Last Post Ceremony at 7.55 pm and had no problem seeing anything…hardly anyone else was there.

          

So, in the autumn of 2015, with the passing of over thirty years, what has remained constant is the sense of desperation that these young men must have felt at the time. Unable to respond to a series of enemy attacks due to jammed rifles, unable to breathe properly due to chlorine gas, the Canadians in the front line held on. No battalion was more in the open than the 13^th (Royal Highlanders of Canada) Battalion, who were forced to dig in along the St Julian/ Poelcappelle Road and protect the left flank of the whole of the BEF. Fighting was confused, the sister kilted battalion, the 15^th (48^th Highlanders of Canada), raised in Toronto, fought alongside them. The first award of a Victoria Cross to a Canadian in the Great War was posthumously awarded to a colleague of my grandfather, Lance Corporal Fred Fisher, who has no known grave.

Bravely led by two officers, Major Norsworthy and Lt Guy Melfort Drummond, both of whom were lost on 22^nd April 1915, the battalion hung on for two days, until relieved by more Canadian units from the shell shattered city of Ypres. The retiring battalions were but a shadow of their former selves; casualty figures were horrendous and the whereabouts of many men unknown. Some were out on the battlefields, dying a lingering death as their lungs filled with fluid, others were already dead and buried in hastily dug and marked field graves, and may suffered the ignominy of capture.

        

I’ve always felt that my grandfather was fortunate in being captured at this stage. His period of captivity was long and increasingly harsh, but he survived, and from that, a family was able to move on after the war. Like every battle, as with every death, one can only wonder what might have been had that man survived. My brother and I are proof, as are many others alive today all over the world, of what becomes of those who survive.

What I also now know is so much more than on that first trip. Canadian books on the subject are understandably detailed, and Daniel Dancock’s account provides a wealth of detail. The records of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, especially in their revised online format allow for the precise location of the battlefield graves of Major Norsworthy and Lt Drummond to be identified, as indeed are a whole host of other 13th Battalion men who were buried close to their original place of death by the Germans, but who now lie in peace in many of the cemeteries around the Salient. War Diaries and hastily written notes between the company and battalion commanders back to Brigade give a tenor of the desperation at times of men not only fighting for their country, their King and their Empire, but predominately for their very essence of being.

A recently harvested potato field may not look very exciting, but with some knowledge and sympathetic appreciation, you can, if you so desire, attempt in your 21^st Century head, to gain a small understanding of your past. And if, through doing so, you can also help others to do the same for their relatives, through much appreciated and skillful gathering of the facts from sources by those who able to provide this, sometimes while you are out in the field, then perhaps for some, the power of the battlefields is still there.

In the footsteps…..

As a battlefield guide, you meet many people, most of whom have an initial interest in where you are taking them, otherwise they would have chosen to spend their hard earned money elsewhere. Ever conscious of ensuring all guests receive good value for what they have spent, I always endeavour to bend over backwards to ensure that personal requests are catered for, unless the actual geographical location totally precludes this. After six years, I have a perfect record, but sometimes things happen quite out of the blue that provide a real ‘special’ moment.

So, a week or so ago when Jane showed me a picture from the Australian War Memorial www.awm.gov.au which included her grandfather, it was clear that something important was afoot here. The AWM website clearly explains where this photograph was taken and identifies most of the stretcher bearers from the 9^th Field Ambulance. That’s because Jane’s grandfather, Bob Mowbray was one of them, and he survived the whole affair, therefore enabling him to name most of the chaps who were with him at the time. Bob is the fellow on the right foreground, who looks only slightly more alert than the rest of his mates, who must have been absolutely shattered after over 2 days of gruelling work retrieving badly wounded mates from the Zonnebeke battlefield in October 1917.

Streacher Bearers resting on the Ypres-Zonnebeke railway line 10th October 1917                     (Courtesy http://www.awm.gov.au)

The caption also explains that these exhausted chaps are asleep along the railway embankment in front of Thames House, a German pillbox which has been captured and turned into a RAP.

Now, as a birthday present a couple of years ago, I received a great present from Jeremy, a large scale laminated map of Ypres, produced by the Ypres League post war, which has all significant places marked upon it. I knew you could walk along the old Ypres – Zonnebeke railway line, so while some guests had a wander in Tyne Cot Military Cemetery, Jane and her husband, as well as a few other guests followed me to see what we could see.

Thames House marked next to the railway

9th Brigade AIF HQ (Thames House)                   12th October 1917                                               (Picture courtesy Mary Ellen Freeman)

This is where sometimes the gut instinct pays off. A short walk along the disused railway track revealed out in the field, a large ugly German Pillbox. This was Thames House. Nearer to the track, there was evidence of other German concrete emplacements; it was pretty clear that on a mildish Spring day in 2013, we were standing exactly where Bob Mowbray and exhausted mates had been getting some well-deserved kip in October 1917. Jane knew her grandfather as an old man and it was clear that this was a very powerful moment for her and totally unexpected. Amazing what a picture and bit of additional knowledge can do.

96 years apart. Jane where her grandfather was,     in October 1917

Arras and Vimy Ridge – Anniversary of the Battle

Today is the anniversary of the opening day of what we now call the Battle of Arras. Of the major battles fought by the BEF, it is probably the least understood, having been eclipsed by the Somme and Third Ypres, certainly in its study, but some authors have done their best to redress this anomaly in recent years. Jonathan Nicholls wrote ‘Cheerful Sacrifice’ back in 1990, and had the pleasure of taking veterans of that battle back to the areas in which they fought. His style of explanation is very much from the heart, and although these men have now passed away, Jonathan still takes guests to these areas and shares his love of the veterans with them.

More recently, Paul Reed’s ‘Walking Arras’ and Peter Barton and Jeremy Banning’s ‘Arras – The spring 1917 offensive in panoramas including Vimy Ridge and Bullecourt’ have brought this battle to a wider audience, through detailed pictures, maps and personal testimony, but the battlefields around Arras still remain somewhat down the pecking order for battlefield visitors – a shame.

The Wellington Tunnels have provided the casual visitor with another point of view and the experience has been set in the wider context of the battle, so that the importance of what was carried out there is more fully understood.

However, there is one section of the 1917 battlefield that is seen by some as a separate part of the battle, perhaps without even being aware of what was going on elsewhere; this is the area around Vimy Ridge. Although an essential part of the overall plan, the successful capture of the Ridge has taken on a wider significance.

This area of ground has all sorts of important references. It was fought over by all four of the Canadian Divisions simultaneously, it was successful, in that the objectives set were achieved within the timeframe allocated, (baring the actions around The Pimple, which took a little longer to acquire) and since the land was given to Canada in the 1920’s it has become one of the few easily publicly accessible places where visitors can see what it might have been like for soldiers who were there.

                  Battlefield visitors in the 1930’s at Vimy.

Time has softened the raw edges and the steady stream of visitors provide plenty of opportunity for the student guides there to tell the story in a modern sense, although I think the colloquial use of ‘these guys’ on a recent visit, when referring to incoming shells was a little too liberal in the use of language. However, I have been impressed with many of the guides at Vimy, who obviously take it upon themselves to find out as much as they can about the battle and its wider ramifications.

Modern story telling styles for a modern audience

This guide really knew his stuff – in the Grange Subway at Vimy

The Vimy Memorial is, in my opinion, the most beautiful of all the great Memorials across the Western Front. Full of symbolism, it is of its time, and now looks as good as it ever did, after a massive renovation, paid for by the Canadian government in 2006. The number of visitors to the site increases, and the new $20 bill has an image of it on the reverse. A timely reminder to all citizens of Canada of what was done in their name.

Perhaps it is best left to two of Canada’s own to explain the significance of the Vimy Memorial.

Firstly, in a brief extract by Greg Clark, who fought with the Canadian Mounted Rifles during the Great War, and, in 1940, found himself reporting on the unfolding conflict as a reporter of the Toronto Star as once again, German forces again invaded France,

‘Well now, I forgot to mention that in a previous old war, of which you young soldiers may not have heard much, I was a fighting man. And only five miles north of Arras….there rose in the night a glorious monument, a double pylon, lonely in the fields: not a Beethoven, but a Tchaikovsky symphony, in stone: to the memory of 58,000 of my comrades who had died in that old war.’

He goes on to explain how, with a bit of bribery and collusion, he acquired a car, a driver and a bushel of mimosa, the only fresh flowers he could find.

‘And at 4 am, my corrupted driver and I stole out of Arras in the mists of May; and tooled our way amidst the sleepless throngs of refugees and British and French military vehicles and units on foot, and went north through Neuville St Vaast to the great memorial, rising out of the mist to meet the dawn. And over its foot, I spread the mimosa.’

And the final comment has to go to Will Bird, from his personal odyssey, Thirteen Years After, written in 1931, before the Memorial was unveiled.

‘The memorial has the finest site of any memorial in France or Belgium. There may be sites that provide a  more dominating position, a more commanding view, but they are few and when found have far lesser military importance. Vimy has the importance, and the commanding view as well. Vimy was our Verdun, our French Ypres, one of the key positions of the Western Front.

Add the fact that the Canadian Corps served longer as a Corps in the Vimy area than elsewhere along the front, and you can see how peculiarly fitting it is to have the finest memorial of all on such a site. Very few places can excel the view obtained there, over the wide sweep of the Douai plain and all that famed Lens mining region. And from the plain, looking up at the Ridge, the view is magnificent, sublime: the memorial fitting there with a beauty and harmony that will never be forgotten.’

                                 Vimy Memorial

Book References

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Arras-Offensive-Panoramas-Including-Bullecourt/dp/1845294211/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365505969&sr=1-1&keywords=arras+peter+barton

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Walking-Arras-Battleground-Paul-Reed/dp/1844156192/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365506008&sr=1-1&keywords=arras+paul+reed

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Cheerful-Sacrifice-Jonathan-Nicholls/dp/1844153266/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365506055&sr=1-1&keywords=jonathan+nicholls+cheerful+sacrifice

Winter on the Western Front

The Great War on the Western Front was fought over 51 months, in all weathers, and in many instances, the weather came to dominate the way in which certain actions and offensives developed, indeed, it played a key part in the success or otherwise of more than one Offensive action.

The Bellevue Spur on the horizon, with Passchendaele on the right. Almost impassable ground in November 1917.

The modern visitor, often, although not always travelling with a commercial concern, naturally has other criteria that need to be fulfilled, and a warm day on the battlefields followed by a good meal, a few drinks and some reflection whilst sitting in the Grote Markt in Ypres or the Place des Heros in Arras has much to commend it. Blue skies, long evenings, roses looking sublime in immaculate CWGC cemeteries, fields of poppies….you get my drift. I’ve certainly enjoyed many such days over the past five years.

A damp and misty Brooding Soldier at Vancouver Corner

However, having completed a trip to Ypres just before Christmas and two recent weekend trips to the Somme, where blue sky was conspicuous by its absence, it’s worth reminding yourself that the Boys were out here in all weathers, and therefore it does them the justice they deserve to experience their domain in all seasons as well.

Actually, whilst not wishing to get on a ‘high horse’ about this, some of my Twitter friends and followers have proved that the differing light, snow and frost can all add another dimension to that other favoured aspect of some battlefield pilgrims, the iconic photograph.  I always take my camera, but I’m not a photographer as such. Often my results stun me, but those that know about apertures, focal lengths and exposures have posted some wonderful images of late. Those of us with Instagram can create some superb images with a bit of digital trickery.

The point is, a visit to the battlefields is rewarding at any time. It’s different in the winter, but, properly attired, and bearing in mind the limitations in terms of daylight and the availability of refreshment stops, it can be equally as fulfilling as a high summers day on the Somme, the Salient or any where else of your choosing.

From the 38th (Welsh) Division Memorial to Flat Iron Copse Cemetery

Image thanks to Peter Fensome

Many people expect to see mud, mist and when out walking, to get cold hands and ears. Fortunately, we don’t have to stay out in for days at a time. The other thing is that the absence of large groups, even at popular spots, lends to a greater intimacy with the surroundings. Last Saturday afternoon at Thiepval there was myself and my companion and two others visitors, being looked after by a fellow guide colleague. Perhaps the coach load of kids in the Visitors Centre had already visited the Memorial; perhaps they felt they’d already got cold enough and needn’t bother. Perhaps I shouldn’t pre-judge!

The Thiepval Memorial to the Missing of the Somme. Stunning at any time of year.

We know that certain places will almost certainly be empty, but if special for us, for whatever reason, then we’ll get there. A remote track on a wind and snow swept ridge between Guémappe and Chérisy may seem like an odd place to go for a walk, but when your research has confirmed that this was the place that ‘your’ man was waiting, not long before he went into action and to his ultimate fate, it makes it a bit more understandable. Then you feel that you need to linger a touch more, despite the numbing cold, just to be sure you have it correct, only leaving the spot slowly, and with a sense of reluctance, as you wonder if he is still out there in these big ploughed fields which will soon be so productive again.

And then there is the simple splendour of the cemeteries under a blanket of snow. I’d seen many pictures like this, but first experienced it for myself on a brief trip to the Salient last year. True to form, we had some snow last weekend. Not an Alpine blanket, it’s true, but enough to give things a different look.

Unknown Soldiers headstones at Flat Iron Copse Cemetery

It would be great if commercial companies offered a winter battlefield trip for the more hardened visitor, and, school trips aside, I believe some do. It wouldn’t necessarily be a massive profit turner, but it would allow the real devotees to see things in a different light.

As for the likes of myself, as a self employed guide, whilst my major employer focuses on the Spring, Summer and Autumn, for the reasons outlined at the beginning of this article, I’ll take you anytime. Except Christmas – I want to come back to my wife!

2012 – A Brief Review – Part 2

There are many things I love about guiding people on the battlefields, but one of them is the excitement of the travel over to the Sacred Soil of the Western Front. Usually Eurotunnel do a pretty good job, and just driving off the train and on to a motorway network totally beyond the imagination of the soldiers of nearly one hundred years ago and seeing signs for places that they knew, or knew of – Boulogne, Arras, Rouen or even Reims on the overhead gantries is enough to get the emotion going. However, it’s only after about half an hour that you see the sign to the place so feared by so many – Ypres (with the Flemish Ieper in brackets).

Nowadays of course, Ypres is the right at the centre of the ‘battlefield tourism’ industry of which I am a part. I have to say, I find this a particularly hateful phrase, but it’s there and it won’t go away. I always stop in at Ypres on my way to my overnight accommodation in Lille. Well, you would, wouldn’t you? It can be any variety of reasons; the practical, to top up with fuel, both for the minicoach and myself and to purchase those things that Belgium is well know for. But, and this is the key thing, it’s really to have a bit of private time before meeting my guests for the weekend the following day.

I usually have a look at the map on the train and work out which way I’ll go and I might even find what I’m after first time. There is usually a reason – I have three ongoing photographic projects that I am helping people with, which sometimes means going a bit off the beaten track, but that means that delightful spots which are usually not on any ‘tour’ agenda can be visited. Is anyone else there? – almost certainly not. In the cool of an early evening, with the flowers looking their best, some of these smaller cemeteries away from the front line areas all have their stories to tell.

Private Allan McQuillan, PPCLI at Dranouter. Not your conventional member of the Regiment.

And that’s another thing. Many years ago, when I was visiting the battlefields far less frequently, I only ever saw the Somme in its full summer glory and the Salient in is late autumn garb. To see the cemeteries around Ypres in full bloom was initially a shock to the system, but now it’s one of the many delights to see how Mother Nature, ably assisted by the work of the CWGC gardeners, can make the cemeteries the delightful oasis that they are, have always been and were intended to be.

The Huts Cemetery, Dikkebus on a bright June afternoon

Oak Dump Cemetery – same day. However, it didn’t last!

But, the sun doesn’t always shine. This year was particularly wet right through June and July and only in August did the weather start to behave. By then, many of the roses had lost their individual battle with the elements, but that’s not to say things looked a mess, far from it. The other beauty, of course, is that in high summer you have an even longer period of light in the evenings, making evening visits to places south of Ypres on the way to Lille a real treat. I know most of the back roads from Messines to Ploegsteert now, via such places as Torreken Farm, Bethleem Farm East and West, Lancashire Cottage and countless other less well visited areas. However, on one damp warm evening in June, I discovered another rarely mentioned irritant which must have plagued the soldiers as they did me, and that was the midges of Ploegsteert Wood. They were so hungry that none of my photos of Ploegsteert Wood Cemetery on that occasion are in focus!

A wet and midge laden Ploegsteert Wood

And then there are sometimes opportunities that present themselves. On 1^st July this year, one of the most significant dates during the Great War, my group had been in Ypres. We’d been caught up in the crowds on the Somme the day before, but at the end of the day, with guests safely accommodated for the night, I made my way to my accommodation, a private house just next to Birr Cross Roads Cemetery. It had been a special day, the air was warm and it was dry. The moon was full and it seemed only right to go and say hello to the Boys in Sanctuary Wood Cemetery as the day closed.

Fine roses at Sanctuary Wood Cemetery, 10.00 pm, Sunday 1st July 2012

Some of the best photos I took all year, I think, came out of that short but necessary diversion. You sense it, they’re saying, ‘hey, don’t forget us lying here. We were doing our best up here as well you know’. And of course, I do know. As we get closer to the series of centenary anniversaries it’s right that we remember the soldiers that fought and endured during these big set piece actions, but also never forget those who were elsewhere, doing their stuff and far from home.

A full moon looking down over Sanctuary Wood Cemetery

Sanctuary Wood Cemetery. A beautiful way to end the day

2012 – A Brief Review – Part 1

The intention, as ever, was good. A regular series of postings after various battlefield trips detailing anything special that might have occurred and acting as a catalyst for those wishing to find out more.

However, in practice, what has happened is that the guiding season has ended, and I have been engaged with other things, so for this first blog, I think it would be prudent to review the year from my perspective. It seems a bit self indulgent and it will test the memory banks a bit, but here goes.

The first trip this year was back in February, with a group of students from Farnham Sixth Form College. Most of these students were approaching their learning about the Great War via the medium of literature; no great surprise there. In fact, the history students that also came on the trip were studying a completely different period, but that didn’t prevent their quest for knowledge about the Western Front. We had one major enemy on the trip, the intense cold, which made our outdoor walks a bit of an ordeal for some. Teenagers always know best, and despite being told to prepare for cold wet weather, not all had taken it to heart. Nevertheless, the highlight of the trip, as it was throughout the year was a visit to the archaeological work which was being carried out at La Boisselle on the Somme. This was particularly interesting for the students, as one of their set texts was Birdsong, which conveniently had just been screened on the BBC.

For further information on this evolving project, see the Project Team’s regularly updated website www.laboisselleproject.com

Richard Porter explains the significance of the ground

Just a few months before, the main actors, Eddie Redmayne and Joseph Mawle had also visited the site to get an idea of the environment in which their characters would have had to operate, so there were plenty of connections to be made whilst out on the battlefields. For me, the most telling stop was the final one of the two day tour. It was, I must remind you, very, very cold. We had spent a good bit of time outside and it was starting to tell on one or two students. However, the two teaching staff were adamant that we should visit the Sheffield Memorial Park and the Accrington Pals Memorial, as Peter Wheelan’s play on the same subject was on the syllabus for the next part of the course. Those of you who know of the location will appreciate that a coach can’t get up there, so it meant a walk in a bitter wind to one of the Somme’s most poignant spots. However, once there, and in the shelter of the copse, it was heartening to see some wander off and pay their own respects at Railway Hollow Cemetery while others took in the enormity of the losses here on that one fateful day, 1^st July 1916.

Walking up to the Sheffield Memorial Park

I think my favourite type of trip is one centred on a specific soldier and a family pilgrimage to find out what happened. That was my good fortune in early April, as I guided a local family to a rarely visited part of the Somme battlefields to follow one small action that occurred in March 1917. Around Bouchavesnes in the early part of the month there was a localised attack in order to advance the front a few hundred yards to gain important ground overlooking the adjoining village of Moislains. The 1^st Worcester were among three battalions to advance early in the morning. Initially things went fairly well and the troops managed to gain the crest of the ridge where, as the War Diary states, ‘From Fritz Trench excellent observation was obtained over country near Moislains and excellent observation for own artillery was obtained. Enemy shelling was very heavy and a barrage was kept up on captured lines and lines of communication all day.’ What it doesn’t say is that the enemy shelling almost certainly did for Samuel Salter, my guests grandfather and great grandfather, respectively. In one of life’s ironies, it was known that his best mate who had joined the battalion at the same time was buried at Fins New British Cemetery, and the next grave was an unknown from the Worcestershire Regiment. We’ll never know for sure if this was Samuel’s final resting place, and his name is listed on the Thiepval Memorial to the Missing of the Somme, along with over 73,000 others.

Is this the grave of Samuel Salter, lost on 4th March 1917?

The Thiepval Memorial to the Missing of the Somme from the Authuille Road

                  Finding the name at Thiepval

The next trip was centred around the commemorations for ANZAC Day in April. Since 2008 the Australian Embassy in Paris has taken on the job of arranging and liaising with the Somme Tourist Board the arrangements for the Dawn Service which is held at the Australian National War Memorial at Villers-Bretonneux. This year the arrangements were, as ever, flawless and my group was among many who braved a cold pre-dawn start for a wonderful service which ended at about 7.00 am, with the raising of the flags and the emergence of a weak sun to herald a new day. I was in charge of a group of around 30 or so, mostly Australians but a few New Zealanders as well. We’d travelled out two days before and spent some time around Ypres, Fromelles and Bullecourt.

Pre Dawn at Villers-Bretonneux

After the Dawn Service, and with a decent bit of breakfast inside us, we ventured back to the Somme. The weather had turned, it was wet as well as cold, but this failed to dampen anyone’s spirits. An oft heard comment when the weather goes against us is often along the lines of, ‘Well, they had it far worse’, which is probably true. It also suggests to me that those who visit the battlefields, in the main, don’t see it as a holiday, they see it as an enriching experience at many levels, even if that means getting wet.

Standing proud at the 1st Australian Division Memorial, Pozieres

Not long after this trip, I enjoyed the company of a smaller group of Australians, this time on one of my regular three day battlefield trips. These smaller groups can be much more intimate and rewarding and as the group gels, their own family stories are often discussed. On this occasion, we happened to be in the exact spot in Polygon Wood where a relative of one of my guests had been awarded the Military Medal for his part in the advances in this area in September 1917. Brian asked if he could read some letters sent home not long after the action, and how could I say no. There were two contrasting written documents he wanted to share with us. One was a letter written home from his great uncle, describing how things weren’t too bad and how he had been caught up in the successful advance. The usual reassurances to family on the other side of the world were all included, and one can assume that when read back in Australia, the effect would have been one of relief and perhaps a certain amount of pride that ‘our Boy’ was doing his bit. By contrast, the other document read out was the citation for the Military Medal, which, in its typical official style made it very clear that the action for which it was awarded was brave and brutal, particularly for the enemy soldiers who happened to be in the way at the time. All of this specific action was happening right next to the butte in Polygon Wood, which now is the focal point of the Buttes New British Cemetery and the 5^th Australian Division Memorial which stands on top of it. Hard to get a greater sense of place than that.

Buttes New British Cemetery and the 5th Australian Division Memorial

I’ll carry on with a round up of later trips shortly. Thanks for reading this far.