Day 29: Vimy Ridge: No Man's Land

June 17, 2012

Peter Paul and Mary's "No Man's Land" is a fitting introduction to today. Please listen to it carefully.

Arras occupies the southwest corner of the Vimy Ridge battlefield area. We only had to pedal out into the countryside about 15 km to reach the centre of the ridge. This involved mostly retracing the route we used to come into town yesterday and then turning toward the town of Neuville St. Vaast.

We were cruising along, the sun almost out, the road almost level, and I wasn't thinking about much except the sun and the road and the peaceful fields. Ahead was the road marker for Neuville St. Vaast, and I pulled out my camera to snap a shot of it. We rounded a slight curve, and omigod. It hit us both with an almost physical force. Friends, we have seen this lots on TV, we know all about it. Many of us have attended ceremonies at cenotaphs. But this. How can I describe the horror and sadness. This is what we saw around that innocent corner:

There were some British here by the French too

One of our special reasons for coming here was to be close to the place where where we knew Dodie's grandfather to have been killed. Grandfather, David Marczak, had been conscripted on the German side. (How strange that 30 years later most of the family was killed by the Germans, and Dodie's father was in the Canadian army. Dodie's father had said David died on April 5, 1917. That is the week of shelling previous to the battle of Vimy Ridge.

We already know he is most likely not here

The German crosses. They continue for about 1/4 mile

This is as likely David Marczak as any other

The cross we selected. If they had identified David at the time, it would have been a Jewish marker.

Jewish graves looked like this. Paradoxically, there were a lot of them sprinkled in. These Jewish German soldiers might have been surprised to learn what happened 25 years later.

The French, British, and German cemeteries, for all that they were silent and deserted were as eloquent as can be. The thing was a stupid, senseless waste. Worse, what music, what art, what scientific discovery, and how much love would have come from those who were snuffed out? In summary, the message would be just as many had written in the guestbook: Never Again! It's a needed message, because as noted in "No Man's Land", it has happened again, and again, and again, and again.

So now at last we came to the Canadian memorial.

Incredibly this is right near the Canadian memorial

It's peaceful looking wood in this photo. It's hard to see in the shot how the ground beneath the trees is chewed up by shell holes.

Original trench, relined with concrete. The machine gun bunker is mostly original

What message would it have for us? As it turns out, there were two.

The first was carried by the display and film in the Welcome Centre. That was "the Canadians were terribly brave and clever in the battles here, and came to be known as quite ferocious. Consequently the Canadians forged a separate identity from Britain and this was an important stride in Canadian nationhood. The heavy cost in (Canadian, not much mention of German) life of this, of course, was unfortunate, and it would be best if we didn't have to do it again, unless of course we are talking about Bosnia, Afghanistan, and whatever."

Words from a 103 year old Canadian veteran.

The second message was different, and quite bizarre. It was conveyed by the artistic Canadian monument itself. We don't know what the official story and interpretation is, but this is what we saw: Heroic Greek god and goddess like figures inhabit a twin tower that looks like a portal to heaven.

Presumably the soldiers went to something like this to get teleported to wherever. There are no standard religious figures, so the thing is sort of semi religious or mythological. One larger than life female figure perches on the edge of he monument and takes advantage of the view from the ridge. What is she thinking or looking at or for? Who knows. Who cares!

(p.s. the Wikipedia article http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canadian_National_Vimy_Memorial#Early_conflicts_on_site explains who or what all the figures are. For example, the "female figure" I referred to is "Mother Canada" and she is mourning her dead. OK fine, but I am sticking to my assessment.)

So after all that, we are beat. But not too beat to roll back through the countryside. We are greeted by this:

Back in Arras, we have an errand to do. Arthur correctly picked up that the photo yesterday, labelled the abbey at Arras, was actually city hall. So now we had to track down the real abbey. This led us to the town square, and what a square it was:

The actual abbey was good, though we are getting quite used to spectacular abbeys and cathedrals.

Strolling back through town, we enjoyes its ambiance, though it is mostly shut down on a Sunday.

One last wow factor was this reminder that history here, as in England, goes back way further than 1914.

BONUS: DODIE VS FRENCH BUREAUCRACY

Tomorrow is our day to take the train to Paris, so we duly reported to the station today to make sure we had our tickets. Dodie parked me with the bikes and joined the queue. After fifteen minutes it was her turn at the famous French wicket, or guichet. It should have been simple (even in French), two singles and two bikes to Paris, please. The man behind the counter's first response was "I don't speak English". "But" said Dodie (still in French), "I am speaking French!" "Hmpph" the reply.

Then the man set forth the following "rules":

The bikes have to go up on a hook. We can not stay with our bikes. No luggage can stay with the bikes. There are strict limits on carry on luggage. There are no luggage racks and no luggage car. All luggage has to have a luggage tag (no matter that it always must stay with you) You must be able to carry your own luggage and fit it with you at your seat. There is no past experience of what touring cyclists do about this, because there are no touring cyclists ever trying to get on a train.

This was all revealed over the course of a 45 minute conversation (in French). I was babysitting the bikes and could only hear snatches. When I heard the man use the code word "normalement", I knew there was trouble.

The line, you can imagine, grew in the meantime.

Finally Dodie said "Just sell me the darn ticket and I'll worry about it tomorrow". She came out of it pretty wrung out. We actually ran into much the same thing in England, with a conductor on the platform giving us grief about the panniers and the hook. Our strategy is just to get on the train, and pretend to be moving luggage here and there. It's a TGV. In 30 minutes, it will actually be arrived.

p.s. They charged 80 Euros for the pleasure of the 1/2 hour ride.

Today's ride: 37 km (23 miles)
Total: 990 km (615 miles)

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