Lille 2015
The continuing travels of Intrepid Rowe on the ANZAC Trail
Arriving in Lille under darker skies, the change in weather from the bright blue and sun of Paris was obvious and it was with some concern I wondered how the next dawn would be…wet, as most of Australia was, or just cold. Not something I could change, I soon put that thought aside and began the journey with the bumpity clack of us travellers bouncing their roller suitcases through the city streets. A fifteen minute walk had us at the Ibis Lille Opera hotel, a boutique hotel right in the centre of the town. The town square was bustling with people, oblivious to the cool wind, and as we set out to try some local cuisine, we passed many old and quite stunning buildings.
I do not know, and my’ go to knowledge centre’
Wikipedia failed me, in finding out just what the Le Voix du Nord building was
all about, best I can guess Is that it is a newspaper building, but it looked
okay so scored a picture.
The afternoon
was drawing on and thirst was on the rise, but at this early stage I had no
idea that within two hours my first day in Lille would be over. I learnt to my suffering that Belgium beer,
with a vol/alc of 8% has a habit of chopping you off at the knees without
warning. One minute talking and looking
around, the next flat out in the room wondering what the hell just
happened. But the early end to one day
was a good thing for the start of the next was just a few hours away.
0215 and we were up and on our
way to the designated parking place in Zonnebeke from which buses would
transport us to the service location. It
was ‘really good’ to be the first car there, and we got to watch as cars, buses
and police assembled over the next two hours.
My body and muzzy head thought this was great fun, when bed was such a
recent memory. Time passed though and we
boarded the buses for the short trip to the Buttes New British Cemetery in
Polygon Wood, Zonnebeke. Alighting in
the dark (clever that, using light and dark but not in the usual way) we made
our way along candle lit paths to stand among the headstones as the crowds grew
around us.
And stand we did, for it was already becoming
light before the services began, by which time I had lost contact with my
feet. After a listening to the opening
speeches,
I was pleasantly surprised to have the opportunity to see the Foreign
Minister Julie Bishop up close as she delivered a fitting tribute to the men of
Australia and New Zealand who were so senselessly slaughtered here, and
elsewhere during the three years that our war raged on.
It really was a most impressive
ceremony, with the Federation Guard providing personnel as well as a
tri-service singing trio (http://video.defence.gov.au/play/hoMGNwdDq-zFZKx-jCf9qFst7Xrwkul3#)
and brilliant NZ soloist who, I unashamedly say, brought tears to my eyes. The Last Post was played by Buglers of the
local volunteer Fire Brigade, who have been conducting the Menin Gate ceremony
since 1928. Haunting and definitely
spine-tingling. A fitting end to a
wonderful dawn service.
On leaving the ceremony I fell in
to step with the Chief Bosun (QMG) as we walked towards the buses and we
chatted about how it all had gone. It
was pleasing we both thought the low spot was the butchering of the Ode of
Remembrance by CMDR Du Toit who just failed to put one word after another. The other thing that hit me was even though
it is now18 years since I wore the blue suit, nothing has really changed and
that was reflected in just how easy our chat was, as if in any Mess any old
place.
Returning to the car a fateful
decision was made that I should take charge of the navigation duties as I at
least had been in this part of the world before. Foolish idea.
Those who have read my older blogs will recall I am not good at
this…geographically challenged I would venture to say. So after driving to our intended destination
of Ypres (Ieper) I decided this didn't look like I remembered and then
orchestrated a 15 kilometre round trip to the exact same spot we left
from. This was not well received by
fellow travellers who proceeded to take the piss out of me mercilessly, but, as
my dear old Mum used to say, ‘at least you tried’!
Close by to the Menin Gate is St
Martin's Cathedral. Construction started on the
church in 1230, and was finished in 1370.
It was heavily damaged during the First World War. Subsequently (1922-1930) the ruin was cleared
and the church was entirely rebuilt following the original plans, although the
tower was built with a higher spire than the original. We stayed in Ypres for a brew, a bit more
piss taking and the returned to Lille where most retreated to their racks for
more sleep, however the Intrepid one headed out to capture some more local
history before retiring. First a stroll
through the Grand Place seen here fronting the Hotel de Ville, which is the
Town Hall.
The tour de Lille almost
completed, I returned to my room and savoured the football replay of
Collingwood v Essendon, downloaded through AFL.com, thank you very much. Then crashed for the night. A beer free ANZAC Day, most unusual!
But the next dawned with an
extended wait for transport and the first beer of the day resulted way too
early with a local ale rated 9.9%.
Intrepid knew the day would get messy.
And eventually it did, but that is for another place and time.
Fromelles was the first place on
the agenda to visit and it was a solemn place to visit as the French, to their
undying credit had re-interred the victims of the fighting there.
Something of the ‘horrors of war’
alluded to by McInnis can be seen on the memorial wall. Of the 1,299 Australians listed there, 595
(46 percent) were from three of the four battalions of the 15th Brigade – the
58th, 59th and 60th – from Victoria commanded by Brigadier General Harold
‘Pompey’ Elliot.
Artillery fire was supposed to
have silenced the Germans and their machine guns in the ‘Sugar Loaf’ before the
attack. ‘Boys, you won’t find a German
when you get there’, Brigadier Elliot told his men. (Good call Sir!) He was wrong and by the time the Australians
advanced, the Germans were manning their machine guns. Moreover, at the point of advance of the 15th
Brigade, no-man’s-land was more than 365 metres wide compared to 90 metres on
the left where other Australian battalions attacked. As the 59th and 60th Battalions left their
positions and proceeded across no-man’s-land they were shot to pieces. Hundreds were killed and wounded and those
unharmed took cover. Shortly after 7 pm
Elliot learnt that the attack was a dismal failure and that ‘every man who
rises is shot down’. Most of the leaders
had quickly been killed or wounded after leaving the Australian lines. Captain Aubrey Liddelow, 59th Battalion, was
wounded but he told one of his men who urged him to go back to seek medical
attention: ‘I’ll never walk back into safety and leave the men I have led into
such grave danger – we’ll wait for reinforcements’. Liddelow was later killed by shellfire. His name is on Panel 14 at VC Corner along
with 235 other soldiers of the 59th Battalion.
The 5th Australian Division suffered 5,533 casualties, rendering it
incapable of offensive action for many months; the 61st British Division
suffered 1,547. The German casualties
were little more than 1,000. The attack
was a complete failure as the Germans realised within a few hours it was merely
a feint. It therefore had no impact
whatsoever upon the progress of the Somme offensive. (And we trust our Officers?)
A short way up the road was a
truly Australian only memorial, known as ‘Cobbers’. Not a widely used term these days, more is
the pity, but this monument truly sums up the comradeship we are renowned for.
A further 200 metres on was a
cemetery known as VC corner. At VC
Corner there are no headstones. Under
two large concrete crosses set flat on the ground, to the left and right near
the cemetery entrance, are the remains of more than 400 Australians who were
killed in action or died of wounds. They
died all around here. The cemetery is in
the middle of the old no-man’s-land between the Australian and German trenches
of 19 July 1916. Beyond the cemetery is
a memorial wall commemorating by name 1,299 Australians who died in the Battle
of Fromelles and who have no known grave.
Together, the wall and the cemetery mark the location of perhaps the
greatest disaster to befall the AIF on the Western Front in World War I. Of the fighting at Fromelles Lieutenant
Ronald McInnis, 53rd Battalion (New South Wales) wrote:
Next…Brussels
