28/10/2018
WHY I WILL NOT BE AT ANY OFFICIAL CEREMONY ON THE SOMME 11/11/18
I have made that mistake before. Here are some thoughts penned just after the Somme 100 Commemorations two years ago. Never published, but will explain a lot about the issues:
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It was all over by July 2nd , unlike the battle a hundred years previously.
All the broadcast kit was packed away into the satellite trucks, the roadblocks were down, the great and the good went back to their everyday lives, the circus had moved on.
And had it all been worth it?
It is an impossible question to answer because had the centenary not been marked officially there would have been a ‘Lest we forget’ outcry. Thousand of voices would have complained that the sacrifices were being forgotten, the fallen and those who survived were being ignored. Social media would have been awash with protests and petitions.
Inevitably, through the passage of time there were no veterans to appreciate and approve what was being done for the memory of their service and that of their comrades.
For those who weren’t in Picardie this July it could be hard to imagine the massive logistical and administrative operation it turned into. A restricted area was imposed based on the town of Albert which extended across most of the major conflict tourism hotspots, Newfoundland Park, Lochnagar Crater and of course the Thiepval Memorial. This entire zone was locked down completely from 8pm
on the 30 th June and not lifted until twenty-four hours later. No vehicle movement was permitted without an appropriate windscreen permit, and having drafted in what appeared to be the majority of the nations police forces, these were checked rigorously every couple of kilometres at one of the many road block, checkpoints. Even at 4 am the access from a rough and muddy farm track onto a minor road was guarded by a Gendarme who had to be roused from a deep sleep in her car to glance at the permit and move the barrier. Two priority routes formed a giant cross dissecting the area into four, no movement at all allowed on these ‘Red’ roads other than official vehicles, and there were hundreds of these, blue lights winking permanently, even on the most leisurely transit.
Before dawn, the strictly number-limited guests at each ceremony were herded bleary-eyed around a stubble field within the perimeter of the Albert aerodrome, permits checked, body scanned, patted down, bags searched, wrist bands issued and then left to stand in a ragged line several hundred metres long to await coach transport to ‘their’ ceremony. Just the one, as unless you were a dignitary there was no travel allowed between ceremonies. The one you were permitted to attend was the only one.
At the ceremonies various unrecognisable and unrecognised dignitaries were dropped from official cars that arrived flanked by motorcycle outriders. Helicopters clattered around the perimeter, marksmen were stationed on vantage points, even on the Thiepval Memorial itself. It was all a long way removed from the two huge armies of citizen soldiery facing each other tired, dirty and scared a hundred years before.
Away from the set-piece spectacles there were dozens of arguably more appropriate commemorations happening. Outside the locked-down zone, small groups of ordinary people gathered at spots that meant something to them. Some wore medals, some carried pictures of relatives, others chose to wear period uniforms. Most just turned up unannounced, to come together in ad-hoc acts of remembrance.
At Montauban where the French and British armies adjoined in July 1916 a mixture of locals and visitors assembled at the memorial. Before long the sound of pipes and drums could be heard, increasing in volume as a large group of men from Merseyside, all smartly dressed in blazers and ties, marched creditably well from the cemetery at Guillemont where a huge number of the Liverpool Pals still lie to the memorial to that regiment’s success on July 1 st 1916.
Re-enactors joined on as they reached the village, in the end anyone who was there and felt like it joined marched or walked or wheeled up and down the main road, until a short and touching laying of wreaths. It was a bit disorganised, even a little shambolic, but there was no mistaking the authenticity of the emotions. No dignitaries, no security, just respect and remembrance.
Next year, 2017, will be the 101st anniversary. The formal ceremonies will be sparse, the press will stay away and the area will not be locked down. But the chances are the group from Liverpool will be back to remember ‘their’ boys. It’s my belief that’s the way it should be.
