Post by Chips on Nov 11, 2008 8:59:46 GMT 9.5
Foreign field, forever Australia
11, 2008
On the 90th anniversary of the end of the Great War, on a day when the resting place of 779 Australian soldiers is shrouded in mist, their sacrifice is not forgotten, writes Mike Bowers.
As I was perched on the Australian National Memorial tower at Villers-Bretonneux, the Somme wind cut straight through my jacket, its icy attack finding every gap in my clothing and biting my cheeks.
It 's not even December. The AIF endured two northern French winters and the third was on the way when the guns finally fell silent.
When it is overcast and still, a mist descends over the countryside and makes everything wet. It sucks the colour from the landscape, making it look eerily like an archival photograph from the War Memorial collection in Canberra.
Today it is sunny and the white gravestones stand to attention against the saturated green of the cemetery grass, a silent battalion awaiting their next order.
In the lead-up to Remembrance Day the area fills with Australians. They walk the rows of headstones reading the achingly young ages and the inscriptions chosen by their families.
Many who rest here at Villers-Bretonneux died in April 1918, where they stopped the German advance which threatened to overrun the town.
Ninety years on, Australia is still remembered for this sacrifice. Australian flags are everywhere in the town - on official buildings and many private homes - and the Cafe Kangourou does a brisk trade.
Australia's Governor-General, Quentin Bryce, paid her respects here on Saturday.
After laying a wreath she spent time doing what all visitors to this place do. Trying to connect with those lying here by reading the inscriptions, she was visibly moved, bending down and clearing foliage from a few of the graves. Even when it looked like the official party was about to leave she turned back to walk part-way up another row. This place has a strong connection for all Australians.
The next day and 120 kilometres further north from Villers-Bretonneux, the Australian official party got a genuine Western Front experience.
The Governor-General and her entourage descended on the French village of Fromelles for a low-key ceremony to honour the soldiers found recently in a field just outside the town.
Two thousand Australians died and 3500 were wounded at Fromelles in July 1916, and a mass grave of about 400 Australian and British soldiers was uncovered by archaeologists in May this year.
The 100 visitors had to navigate a narrow path to the site, between freshly ploughed fields. The soil here is so full of clay it shines like plate glass - it is both adhesive and slick at the same time. The mud sucks at your foot and once traction is lost it is very hard to keep your balance.
A gumbooted Ms Bryce gingerly stepped her way to the service and back, our modern army who made up the guard of honour awkwardly holding their trousers to stop their cuffs from getting muddy.
This has been a very personal journey for me. My grandfather, Horace James Bowers, fought with the 15th Battalion through Gallipoli and the Western Front. The 15th was heavily involved in the battles of Le Hamel.
He died before I was born, so I'm always trying to connect and understand what motivated him. He was wounded four times in the four years of the war, and later joined up immediately when World War II broke out.
I don't know that he would be too proud of his grandson. Even with thermals, five days of Somme wind and mud all but defeated me.
11, 2008
On the 90th anniversary of the end of the Great War, on a day when the resting place of 779 Australian soldiers is shrouded in mist, their sacrifice is not forgotten, writes Mike Bowers.
As I was perched on the Australian National Memorial tower at Villers-Bretonneux, the Somme wind cut straight through my jacket, its icy attack finding every gap in my clothing and biting my cheeks.
It 's not even December. The AIF endured two northern French winters and the third was on the way when the guns finally fell silent.
When it is overcast and still, a mist descends over the countryside and makes everything wet. It sucks the colour from the landscape, making it look eerily like an archival photograph from the War Memorial collection in Canberra.
Today it is sunny and the white gravestones stand to attention against the saturated green of the cemetery grass, a silent battalion awaiting their next order.
In the lead-up to Remembrance Day the area fills with Australians. They walk the rows of headstones reading the achingly young ages and the inscriptions chosen by their families.
Many who rest here at Villers-Bretonneux died in April 1918, where they stopped the German advance which threatened to overrun the town.
Ninety years on, Australia is still remembered for this sacrifice. Australian flags are everywhere in the town - on official buildings and many private homes - and the Cafe Kangourou does a brisk trade.
Australia's Governor-General, Quentin Bryce, paid her respects here on Saturday.
After laying a wreath she spent time doing what all visitors to this place do. Trying to connect with those lying here by reading the inscriptions, she was visibly moved, bending down and clearing foliage from a few of the graves. Even when it looked like the official party was about to leave she turned back to walk part-way up another row. This place has a strong connection for all Australians.
The next day and 120 kilometres further north from Villers-Bretonneux, the Australian official party got a genuine Western Front experience.
The Governor-General and her entourage descended on the French village of Fromelles for a low-key ceremony to honour the soldiers found recently in a field just outside the town.
Two thousand Australians died and 3500 were wounded at Fromelles in July 1916, and a mass grave of about 400 Australian and British soldiers was uncovered by archaeologists in May this year.
The 100 visitors had to navigate a narrow path to the site, between freshly ploughed fields. The soil here is so full of clay it shines like plate glass - it is both adhesive and slick at the same time. The mud sucks at your foot and once traction is lost it is very hard to keep your balance.
A gumbooted Ms Bryce gingerly stepped her way to the service and back, our modern army who made up the guard of honour awkwardly holding their trousers to stop their cuffs from getting muddy.
This has been a very personal journey for me. My grandfather, Horace James Bowers, fought with the 15th Battalion through Gallipoli and the Western Front. The 15th was heavily involved in the battles of Le Hamel.
He died before I was born, so I'm always trying to connect and understand what motivated him. He was wounded four times in the four years of the war, and later joined up immediately when World War II broke out.
I don't know that he would be too proud of his grandson. Even with thermals, five days of Somme wind and mud all but defeated me.