Patricia Grimes
August 28, 2008 05:33 am Travel and learning have always been sources of bliss for me, so when I had the opportunity to be part of a Salem State travel/study trip to sites associated with World War I in France and Belgium, I jumped at the chance. I wondered what I would find, to use the phrase made famous by George M. Cohan's 1917 song about the war, "Over There." My husband, Charlie, was taking the course for credit. I was merely along for the ride. Or so I thought. You can learn the details of the various battles and the war itself in the history books. I feel compelled to write about the effect this trip had on me emotionally and spiritually. I knew aspects of the trip would be hard, but I did not expect the intensity of feeling I experienced. We visited several museums on our journey through France and Belgium, and all were informative and interesting. We walked through reconstructed trenches imagining what it must have been like to live in them; saw parts of the French countryside that are still pockmarked with craters big and small where artillery shells landed; and visited areas where only sheep can graze because they are too light to set off any ordnance that may still be buried there. It was all very moving, but it was the memorials and the cemeteries that got me. "Mort pour la France" I cried at every cemetery we visited. I'm crying as I write this now. I simply never knew there were so many. The Canadians, the British, the French, the Americans and the Germans each had unique and compelling ways of honoring those who fought and died for their country. The towering memorial that the Canadians erected at Vimy Ridge is one of the most moving things I have ever seen. The British mark each of their cemeteries with what is called a Great Cross — a large, white cross with a sword carved in it which also serves as a cross. Each headstone is planted with a different flowering plant. It is a beautiful and fitting tribute to the rows and rows of buried soldiers. The Menin Gate at Ypres in Belgium is perhaps the most visited British memorial. The names of tens of thousands of soldiers are inscribed there. Many of them marched through that gate to battle, and were never seen again. Every night at 8 "Last Post," the British equivalent of "Taps," is played at that gate. It is incredibly moving. The German cemetery we visited in Belgium was very unlike those of the Allies — low, dark, somber, sad. At Verdun, a place of great reverence and importance to the French, there is a huge memorial with an ossuary underneath that contains hundreds of thousands of bones discovered after the war. The French cemeteries also have plantings at each cross, but all are the same, deep-pink rose. On each headstone there is the inscription, "Mort pour la France" or "Dead for France." The Moroccans who died for France have their own section, with the inscription in Arabic and stones shaped like a minaret. All of their stones face east toward Mecca. It is a wonderful gesture. It became almost overwhelming walking through rows and rows of crosses at the French memorials and the white headstones at the British cemeteries, all meticulously maintained and cared for. Driving through the French and Belgian countryside in the area of the Somme and Paschendale, there seemed to be cemeteries around every corner. They gathered the dead and buried them close to where they died, so you will find a cemetery in the middle of a farmer's field. At Tyne Cot Cemetery in Belgium, British schoolchildren left tiny wooden crosses with poppies attached. A fellow traveler told me she had seen one with a note saying "Thank you, Lads." It felt good to know they had not been forgotten. Along the area of the Western Front, this war is still alive. Remembering America's war dead The Americans did not enter the war until April of 1917, the deciding factors being the threat of German submarines and a clumsy German attempt at an alliance with Mexico against the United States. By the time we arrived the fighting had been going on for nearly four years and both sides were exhausted. Our entry turned the tide of the war, and established the United States as a major power. The memorials to our dead in France are equally compelling, and made me proud, not only of those who fought, but how they are being remembered. High on a hill above Chateau Thierry in France is a massive structure with an eagle on one side and heroic figures on the other, signifying America and France together. The American cemeteries have row upon row of white crosses, with an occasional Star of David. The plantings are in separate flower beds that are beautifully landscaped. I will never forget walking in the cemetery at Aisne-Marne and hearing the bells in the memorial chapel playing, "My Country 'Tis of Thee." It gave me chills. "They paid with their blood" It is hard to explain the depth of emotion I felt at each of these cemeteries. I spent part of each day in tears, and I came home humbled by a deep appreciation for all who have fought for their country and beliefs at any time. The powerful memorials to those who fought and died so far from home are wonderful testaments to the human spirit and to courage. One of the first places that we visited was the Canadian memorial at Vimy Ridge. I was awed and moved by the magnificence of this monument, as I would be by all the others later in the trip. I turned to my husband and voiced my admiration and amazement at the tribute. I'll never forget his answer. "They paid with their blood." To all who have served our country and to those who are serving us bravely now in places like Iraq and Afghanistan, I will echo what was written on the cross at the cemetery at Tyne Cot: Thank you, Lads (and, now, Ladies.) ¬¢¬¢¬¢ Patricia Grimes is an at-large member of the Beverly City Council.
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