Tag Archives: Le Touquet

Northern France, Commonwealth War Graves

Commonwealth war Graves Boulogne

It was early, peaceful and eerily serene and apart from a gardener carefully tending the flowers and the occasional snipping of his secateurs around the graves we were the only people there and there was no sound and I was struck by the quiet solemness that seemed to lay heavily on this place. Each gravestone is the same regardless of rank and they line up in rows as though they were soldiers on a parade ground.

Most of these victims of war were obscenely young but what struck me the most was that many were buried here but simply marked in the words of Rudyard Kipling as ‘An unknown soldier of the Great War’.  I didn’t care to think about the horrific injuries that they must have endured that stripped away their identity.

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Weekly Photo Challenge: (The Price of) Victory

Commonwealth War Graves Boulogne-Sur-Mer

“If I should die, think only this of me: 
That there’s some corner of a foreign field 
That is forever England. There shall be 
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;”                                                                 Rupert Brooke – ‘The Soldier’

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Yellow Fields

Longvilliers Northern France

To get to Hardelot required a cross country journey through a succession of small towns and villages along narrow roads meandering through undulating countryside with golden fields of freshly cut hay contrasting with and harmonising perfectly against the rich green meadows with their herds of lazy grazing cattle.

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Remembrance, Reverance and Respect

Commonwealth War Graves Boulogne-Sur-Mer

“If I should die, think only this of me: 
That there’s some corner of a foreign field 
That is forever England. There shall be 
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;”                                                                 Rupert Brooke – ‘The Soldier’

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Northern France, Commonwealth War Graves

Commonwealth War Graves Boulogne-Sur-Mer

“If I should die, think only this of me: 
That there’s some corner of a foreign field 
That is forever England. There shall be 
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;”                                                                 Rupert Brooke – ‘The Soldier’

As we were in no particular hurry we slept in and took a late breakfast and then as the sun began to break through the clouds we set off for the short journey to nearby Boulogne, bypassing the direct route and taking a meandering drive through the countryside and the villages.  On the northern outskirts of the town we came across a British and Commonwealth war graves cemetery and stopped the car for a visit.

During the First-World-War Boulogne-Sur-Mer was one of three important base ports for the British Army.  The coastline between General Haig’s headquarters in Montreuil-Sur-Mer (actually nowhere near the sea but with a very fine chateaux and wine cellar) and the Port of Calais was an immense logistics zone made up of army camps, munitions depots and hospitals which for the most part were supplied with men and equipment through the Port of Boulogne.

Boulogne was essentially an enormous extended barracks and hospital complex and most of the public buildings including the schools were requisitioned to take care of the wounded who had been evacuated from the front line and the fighting. Thousands of Commonwealth soldiers died in Boulogne and the surrounding area as a result of their injuries and they are buried and remembered all along this coast in immaculately maintained military war graves.

Commonwealth war Graves Boulogne

The job of maintaining the burial sites is that of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission which, according to Wikipedia:

 “… is currently responsible for the continued commemoration of 1.69 million deceased Commonwealth military service members in 150 countries. Since its inception, the Commission has constructed approximately 2,500 war cemeteries and numerous memorials. The Commission is currently responsible for the care of war dead at over 23,000 separate burial sites and the maintenance of more than 200 memorials worldwide. In addition to commemorating Commonwealth military service members, the Commission maintains, under arrangement with applicable governments, over 40,000 non-Commonwealth war graves and over 25,000 non-war military and civilian graves. The Commission operates through the continued financial support of the member states: United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, India and South Africa.”

It was early, peaceful and eerily serene and apart from a gardener carefully tending the flowers and the occasional snipping of his secateurs around the graves we were the only people there and there was no sound and I was struck by the quiet solemness that seemed to lay heavily on this place. Each gravestone is the same regardless of rank and they line up in rows as though they were soldiers on a parade ground.  Most of these victims of war were obscenely young but what struck me the most was that many were buried here but simply marked in the words of Rudyard Kipling as ‘An unknown soldier of the Great War’.  I didn’t care to think about the horrific injuries that they must have endured that stripped away their identity.

This cemetery at Terlincthun is quite small with just over three and a half thousand graves but it reminded me of an earlier visit to this part of France with my family when we visited the largest Commonwealth War Graves site in France at Étaples where nearly twelve thousand soldiers are buried.

Because of its strategic position Étaples was the scene of much Allied activity during World War One due to its safety from attack by enemy land forces and the existence of railway connections with both the northern and southern battlefields. The town was home to sixteen hospitals and a convalescent depot, in addition to a number of reinforcement camps for Commonwealth soldiers and general barracks for the French Army.

By all accounts this was a truly dreadful place and most soldiers buried in the cemetery died after treatment in the hospitals.  It is said that after two weeks, many of the wounded would rather return to the front with unhealed wounds rather than remain at Étaples.

It was also a particularly notorious base camp for those on their way to the front. Under atrocious conditions, both raw recruits and battle-weary veterans were subjected to intensive training in gas warfare, bayonet drill, and long sessions of marching at the double across the dunes.  There was resentment against the officers who enjoyed the better conditions of Le Touquet and from which the men were forbidden to visit and this led to a famous mutiny in September 1917 which was brutally repressed.

Apart from the solemn rows of white headstones there was no reminder of this unpleasantness that day as we entered the cemetery through the impressive memorial designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens and walked through the carefully tended graves.

I had never visited a war graves site before and it was poignant to read the inscriptions on the graves and sad to see how young so many of them were who never returned to England.  My granddaughter, Molly ran and skipped through the rows of graves and I was struck by the fact that she could only do this because of the ultimate sacrifices made by all those brave men.

Etaples France War Graves

Weekly Photo Challenge: Movement

The Swish of the club, the thump of impact and the Fizz of the ball..

First thing next morning we had the standard Ibis breakfast at the hotel and filled up on ham and cheese and bread rolls to keep us going until lunchtime and afterwards we set off for the golf course for the first of the dads v. lads challenge matches.

It was a lovely morning and although there was some cloud it was mostly sunny and we arrived at the course and presented ourselves for our appointed tee-time.  Surprisingly the course wasn’t at all busy so we made our way to the tee and after we had made sure no-one was watching we took it in turns to tee off down the par 5 first.

The green looked a mile away but first Jon and then Scot made easy work of it with impressive long drives that split the fairway.  Needless to say we didn’t follow their example and all of a sudden the challenge looked rash!  The lads stormed to an early lead that they managed to retain through the first few holes.  From very early on I kept making the mistake of walking ahead whilst Richard was still to take his next shot.  This was a silly thing to do and everyone kept reminding me of the last time I was foolish enough to do such a thing and he had put a Titliest ProV in my face and sent me to hospital for a mouthful of stitches.   It was my own fault and I only actually went to hospital after the round was finished when it became clear that I couldn’t drink a pint of beer without spilling it through the holes in my lips that shouldn’t have been there.  We now have a firm ‘stand behind Richard routine’ that is most sensible to observe.

We negotiated the first part of the course and although the lads were out-driving us and achieving impressive distances down the fairways we managed to stay in touch with some astute approach play and skilful putting and by the turn they were only slightly ahead and Richard and I were confident of taking the lead some time soon.  The course was in really good shape and we were pleased to be able to play at a pleasant pace with hardly any one about to put us off of our game.  No-one in front and no-one behind, we were playing millionaire’s golf!

So none of us had a proper explanation for just what happened to Scot when he suddenly developed a two-off-the-tee habit of sending his first shot everywhere but down the middle of the fairway.   Needing all the help we could get we took unsportsmanlike advantage of this and teased him constantly about his waywardness.  All that mockery did the trick and on the last nine holes he lost nine balls, he was hitting it a long way but he was hopelessly inaccurate and suddenly things were looking up for the dads!  Only a few holes to go and the lead was beginning to shrink.

But Jon kept his steady head on and continued to play consistently well and then the wheels came off of Richard’s game as well. As his head went down the lads scented victory and moved in for the kill and with a strong finish made sure of the win.  The beer and the lunch was on the dads.  It had been a good game and in the end it was a thoroughly deserved victory for the two boys.  And as we looked at it there was always tomorrow’s rematch where we could get our just revenge.  Unfortunately the club-house restaurant was closed for the day but they managed to find us some baguettes so we had those and reflected on the game with a couple of beers.

France 2010, Hardelot Plage (again) and Etaples

Longvilliers France

The cottage was just a few kilometres from the holiday resort town of Le Touquet Paris Plage but we hadn’t visited yet so we agreed that as this was our last day that we really ought to go and see the place and after breakfast we loaded the cars and set off.

We made good progress at first but as we got closer to the coast the roads began to get busy, progress slowed down and then eventually ground to a complete halt.  I calculated that we were still about six kilometres from the town and the coast and the traffic was at an almost complete standstill.  It seemed that everyone else in Northern France had also decided to visit Le Touquet today.

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France 2010, The Beach at Hardelot Plage and a BBQ Accident

Camille Longvilliers France

There was much better weather the next morning so after breakfast we were in no particular rush to leave the cottage and stayed around the garden and entertained Molly before taking a slow walk along the village lanes to see the farm animals.

Camille spotted us and came outside to say bonjour and then insisted on a guided tour of his garden with its immaculate vegetable plot overflowing with plump ripe produce.  He couldn’t speak a word of English but he explained in great detail what everything was and how best to prepare, cook and eat it.  I could follow some of this by picking out the odd familiar schoolboy French word but to be honest most of it was just a rapid Gallic blur.

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France 2010, Montreuil Sur Mer and Berck Plage

Montreuil Sur Mer France

On Sunday morning the weather was rather mixed and it was difficult to predict with any real degree of confidence just how it might turn out later on.  Sally was up early with Molly and complained about the television channels all being in French (I’m not sure what she was expecting) and the others stayed in bed a while longer waiting for improvement.  Eventually Richard joined me and while we sat and had a cup of tea I thought how good it was to be on holiday again with the world early morning farting champion.

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France 2010, SeaFrance and Carrefour

Les Cottages de Longvilliers

In the previous year we travelled to Northern France and stayed in a farm cottage just outside of Boulogne and we had such a good time that we agreed to repeat the adventure in 2010.  It was perfect really because we had little Molly, my granddaughter, with us and with Sally, my daughter, being such a notoriously untidy packer it was convenient just to take the car and fill it up with overflowing bags of clothes (many of which would never be worn) carrier bags full of last minute thoughts and all of the other items of necessity when travelling with a two year old.

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