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Trip of memories
Trip of memories
Paul
Collins at Beaumont-Hamel
My friend Jen recently wrote me that my presentation
on Beaumont Hamel was the most moving of the whole tour. She said hearing
about the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, and their sacrifice, was a swift
kick in the rear for her. Jen is from Calgary, and like most Albertans,
knows almost nothing about Newfoundland. She and I were two of only 12
students from across Canada chosen by the Battle of Normandy Foundation
to participate in this year’s battlefield tour. Every year, the foundation
arranges a tour of Canadian First World War and Second World War battlefields
in France and Belgium. To help with the cost, they also award each student
a substantial bursary. I found out about it by chance one day when I was
walking through the University Centre. I was one of only two that applied
from Memorial University, and was really surprised when I was picked.
I’m chronologically-challenged and the other applicant, a classmate,
is in his 20s. He is, certainly, as good a student as I am, and I thought
that the foundation would lean more towards a younger person. Fortunately
for me, I was wrong, and shortly after finishing my last exam of the semester,
I found out I was going to Europe.
I was both excited and apprehensive. For one thing, I had to come up with
my portion of the cost of the trip. I approached a number of sources including
Student Affairs, University Relations, MUNSU, the GSU, and my MHA, and
they all contributed in varying degrees. But even more so, I was nervous
about the other participants and, most of all, Dr. Marc Milner, the tour
leader. Dr. Milner is considered by many to be the expert on the Royal
Canadian Navy and the Battle of the Atlantic, my area of interest (I’m
a history major). Frankly, that intimidated the hell out of me. Each participant
was required to prepare three presentations on separate battles to give
to the group, and I worried that I would not perform to his, and the group’s,
expectations. I, being the only Newfoundlander on the tour, of course
was assigned the Battle of Beaumont Hamel. I guess I did a good job, at
least as far as Jen is concerned, anyway.
The
Danger Tree, where members of the Newfoundland regiment went to their
deaths.
The Beaumont Hamel Memorial Park is situated
in the middle of nowhere on the French countryside. This isn’t surprising,
as most of the battles of the First World War were fought in the middle
of nowhere. Once the war was over, French farmers reclaimed their land
and went back to cultivating it, as they’d done for hundreds of years,
and hundreds of wars! The government of Newfoundland bought a part of
the battlefield from these farmers a few years after First World War,
and converted it into a memorial park. Rather than erect a large monolith,
or some other monument, the government decided to preserve the battlefield
itself as a remembrance, the only memorial being a large caribou looking
out over no man’s land. And so it was in front of the caribou, standing
on the lip of St. John’s Road, the trench where the Royal Newfoundland
Regiment “went over the top” to be slaughtered that sunny summer
morning in 1916, that I gave my presentation that so moved my friend Jen.
I think it was really the place, not my presentation, that moved my friend.
It moved me, too. It is all so peaceful now; the birds sing, and sheep
munch on the grass in the middle of no man’s land. If it wasn’t
for the rows of headstones in Y-Ravine Cemetery off to the right, you’d
think you were in front of the caribou in Bowring Park. But closer inspection
of the ground ahead quickly reminds you that you are not in Bowring Park.
The dips and rolls in the grassy field are not just the gentle undulations
common in most meadows, they are the outlines of shell holes and trenches.
And still lying buried in those shell holes and trenches are the remains
of many Newfoundlanders whose names and locations are “Known Only
to God.” Those whose bodies were found rest in Y-Ravine Cemetery.
It was the German machine guns sited in this ravine that caused so much
of the carnage in the battle for Beaumont Hamel. Consequently, it is somewhat
apropos that this is where many of their victims are buried.
Entering
through the brick gate to the cemetery was a sobering experience. Row
upon row of sun-whitened headstones bearing names so familiar to me: Doyle,
Hickey, O’Brien, Druken, Collins ... on and on. And they were all
so young — 18, 19, 23, one was only 16! He had lied about his age.
These weren’t a bunch of faceless names, statistics of the first
day of the Battle of the Somme, these were the unrealized future of Newfoundland.
These young men were fishermen from various outports who had enlisted
for adventure and to escape the poverty of the early part of the 20th
century. These names also included the finest families on the island.
The bright young minds that were to steer Newfoundland through the new
century. One wonders what our poor, much-maligned province would have
been like if they had not been taken from us.
The
Y-Ravine Cemetery
The Y-Ravine Cemetery was our first of the
tour, and we would see many more over the next two weeks. Many were larger,
many were more magnificent, but I don’t think any had the effect
that this one had on us. We were all pretty quiet in the vans as we drove
out of the parking lot. I looked around at my tour mates, all of them
were young, in their early to mid-20s. None had probably known tragedy,
all were healthy, educated, happy to be alive. And I think everyone, not
just my friend Jen, realized to some extent, they owed that to those young
men who now lie buried in a small graveyard near the French village of
Beaumont Hamel.
Paul Collins is a history student at Memorial University and author of
The Dangerous Waters.
