July 5: more Verdun battlefield and a wonderful accidental meeting leading to a shared sorrow

In the light of a the events in Paris (the shootings of November 13th), bombings in Beirut (November 12), my walk seems even more ... It is still hard for me to understand why people would like to wage that kind of suffering on one another. It seems that we are incapable of learning. Or have we forgotten already..? What about "their name shall leveth forever more").

Bras-sur-Meuse military cemetery

Route: Bras-sur-Meuse -> Charny-sur-Meuse - > Marre -> Cumieres -> Chattancourt -> ??? -> Cote 304 -> Montfaucon-d'Argnnne -> Romagne-sur-Montfaucon -> Boureuilles

Part 1: the sites and their history

Going from Verdun direction, Bras-sur-Meuse greets with a national cemetery of French soldiers. Strange feelings rises as one see a clown happily smiling while looking at the "nationale necropolis".

As I wrote, the battle of Verdun affected a large area and also stole a lot of dreams. Therefore, a lot of military cemeteries can be seen here even in relatively remote places.

Not everyone was lucky enough  to get their own crosses or gravestones. Some are sharing a mass dug with hundreds of their comrades.

"1914 - 1918

ICI REPOSENT

1000 militaires Francais

Inconnus des regions de

Bezonvaux              Les Chambrettes

Louvemont                               Ornes

Beaumont       Cimetieres de Mouilly

Parmis                                  Lesquels

Alliot Marcel, Caporal 132 R.I. - Soulier Francois _

Soulier Leon, Sergent - Major 255 R.I."

The whole area has 18 national cemeteries with 57 709 soldiers buried there from both world wars. The majority of them, however, is from the Great War (56 105 French and 19 Allies).

It was really interesting feeling to see headstones written in Arabic letters. I couldn't get why people say that Muslims and Christians fight. For me, they lay the same in cemeteries. Which makes no sense in why the living ones are fighting.

Charny-sur-Meuse is 'just a bridge away' from Bras-sur_Meuse. ' It's a small village of 580 inhabitatns.

Just like is started to be on the routine, Charny also have a monument to the dead right in front of maryer.

 "1914 A LA GLOIRE 1918

DES ENFANTS DE CHARNY

MORTS POUR LA FRANCE

1914                                        ADAM Paul                            19xx

CAMUT Eugene                     MATHIEU Gaster                  DETARTE Pxxx

PERIDON George                  GLAUDIN Henri                    MARCHAND xxxxx

DAUNDIS Emile                    1915                                        BOULHAUT Lxxxx

SOMNARD Edouard. Sergent-Major                        PROSPEAT Georges              19xx

LECOURTIER Louis              BAUOLET Lucien                  FRANCOIxxxx xxxx

BAILLEUX Celestin              BEUCUITTE Leon. Caporal

                       1939 - 1945

xxxx xxxxx              |           xxxxxx xxxxx

xxxx xxxxx              |           xxxxxx xxxxx"

It is said that the village was founded by bishops when King Childebert II offered them the land as a gratitude for their hospitality. When troops entered Charny, people fled to safer grounds. When they came back in 1919, the only thing they manage to find was rubble. Caught in the bombings of the Battle of Verdun, Charny was completely destroyed. The persistence and stubbornness of people topped and the village was restored. It was awarded a military cross in 1921.

Charny has a fortress. Built in 1887 - 1888 it stands on a high ground (230 meters). It was later modernized two times before the Great War. Just like many other forts, in 1915 it was stripped of his big guns. During the war and the Battle of Verdun, the fort suffered from bombardment with medium calibre munition; large calibre (420mm) also fell occasionally. The big shells damaged the ceiling of the shooting rooms. Another 210 shell exploded at the entrance of machine gun turret. Large number of gas shells was also sent to the fort. But despite that, the fort did not fell into the German hands.

Currently it stands on a private property. Further down the road fort Vacherauville stood it's ground as it was bombed by 7 950 shells (raging from 110 mm to 420 mm). The surviving parts are covered by vegetation now, but can still be traced.

Forts that took part in Battle of Verdun (taken from Charny municipality website)

Along the front, Demarcation Stones can be found in some places. But I stumbled across this one

I don't know what is it marking or what meaning does it bear. But it stands on the vast battlefield of the longest battle, so who knows...

Marre is a another very small village with population of 151 in an area of 10.2 km².

(there is Fort de Marre about 3.9 km from Charny and 2.7 km from Marre in South, South-East direction, which was built in 1875 - 1877 and modernized few times both prior the Great War and during it)

 The church and the monument to the dead at Marre

I continued my road to Chattancourt. Just to walk on the same field was something incredible.

The sign, which verified that I'm wandering to the right direction

Chattancourt found itself on the frontline and therefore was completely destroyed, just like nearby Cumieres village. However, unlike the last one, it was rebuilt later.

I thought that there should be "la tranchee" somewhere as this is what I saw in my map, but I could see only French cemeteries somewhere behind the crop fields.

The sun came out and it started to be hot again, so I didn't walk to the cemeteries

The dignified cock and those who died for it. Each side of the monument bore a list of names

 "MAGISSON Georges

  MARCILLY Henry

  MASSON Felicien

  MASSON Louis

  MOUTAUX Edmond

  MOUTAUX Pol

  MOUTAUX Camille

  MOREL Albert

  ROGIE Lucien

  ROGIE Fernand

                       

Just outside Chattancourt, I met Daniel, who was, doing a Sunday's visit to the sites of the Great War. He took me together with him to Cote 304.

"A NOS HEROS DE LA COTE 304

/GLOIRE AU 141eme RI

_____

DON du Dr MALET et Mme

11260 ESPERAZA

_____

MEMBRES - DE CEUX DE VERDUN

- SOUVENIR FRANCAIS

- ANSBV"

"A French soldier: ...my battalion comes straight from the land behind the front-lines, the men are exhausted and did not sleep. The battalion consists of 800 men - the battalion that we are here to replace lost 800 men..." "

Hill 304 was one of the German offensive objectives along Bethincourt-Forges line in 1916. During the first unsuccessful attempt to take the hill, German lost 70% of the troops. Ping-pong was played here between Germans and French too. Men and their equipment were drowning in the mud, as 500 guns in about 2 km wide front turned ground into anything but a solid standpoint. According to French pilots, the explosions blew debris and smoke up to 750 meters high. Eventually Germans managed to capture Hill 304-Mort Homme sector. But now Cote 304 was 7 meters lower...

"An German soldier tells: ...One soldier was going insane with thirst and drank from a pond covered with a greenish layer near Le Mort-Homme. A corpse was afloat in it; his black countenance face down in the water and his abdomen swollen as if he had been filling himself up with water for days now...."

The battle scars

View from the hill. Take out the trees and you have a perfect observation-attack point.

Today the scenery is just like all the other nice French sceneries. Nothing like then, when the earth was filled with decaying bodies and the smell of their rooting comrades in suffer was following the survivors with every breath, sip and bite.

Daniel decided to take me to Montfaucon-d'Argonne and I was very thankful for that. Montfaucon-d'Argonne is yet another village, which got destroyed and rebuilt next to the old site. Before the war, this small village was a tourist place, with people coming to the abbey that is now destroyed. As legend says, in 597, Balderic followed a hawk. The bird landed on a hill and he founded an abbey there. That was the start of Montfaucon. Through the history, the village had its fair share of mishaps (battles, revolution, cholera). But when the Great War started, Germans entered the village already in September 3, 1914 and stayed there for four years. Montfaucon suffered great damage during the attack, as Germans opened heavy artillery fire in order to successfully take the village. Most of the residents fled, some of those who stayed became war prisoners, others - died under the rubble of their houses. The war brought to an end the long history of Saint Lawrence and Saint Germain Collegiate Church. Built in 597, it was not spared - the vaults fell, the windows shattered and manuscripts, recounting Saint Balderic, were destroyed. Now the new church echoes the original one.

We went straight to the American monument for the 26 277 men that fell here on 26 and 27 of September, 1918. It is built next to the site where the old church once stood. The ruins of it can still be seen from the tower monument.

The granite for the monument was brought from Italy. Erected 20 years after the Americans entered the war, it takes a shape of very large, 60 meters high Doric column with allegoric statue of Liberty on top.

Inside

There is a short history presented both near the monument and inside it.

After 220 steps, one can get a view of the surroundings and the former battlefield. On the sides, different locations are marked together with the distance to them. Verdun Ossuary should be visible from here, but it stays hidden behind trees.

Great exercise

Taken from my video from the tower. Somewhere there is Verdun and the Ossuary

Montfaucon has other monuments too: the Ohio State building, the monument of Sammies, which is a reference to the nickname French used for Americans (took it's origins from Uncle Sam), but we did not visited them. I think neither of us knew about them then.

Next - Romagne-sous-Montfaucon. Although the American cemetery in Normandy is better known, with 14 246 graves (9 of which received the Medal of Honour) and 954 missing, this is the largest resting place for Americans in Europe.

The graves are divided into eight rectangular areas (four from each side of the chapel). And their number is overwhelming.

When names does not matter

The Echoing Graves

On top of the chapel the inscription reads: "Dedicated to the memory of those who died for their country"

Above the loggia, names of the villages, where Americans have fought, are inscribed. Inside them - names of 954 missing soldiers are written. Each division has its own panel with insignia above.

At each of the entrances to the cemetery one is greeted (or farewell) by two American eagles

Later we went to German cemetery.

It was completely different than the American one. There were no white marble crosses, which should symbolize the purity and glory of the soldiers (most of whom, after seeing what war really looks like, felt the inanity of fighting and wanted to just go back home). The cemetery felt as if it was filled with guilt, grief, loss and looked more like an apology with head bowed, pressed to the ground than anything else. To be honest, this seemed to be most sincere and honest cemetery with no lie, autosuggestion about the meaningful and glorified death.

Each country's cemetery is different. The distinctive feature of of German cemeteries is that one cross bears two names or, sometimes, four names. And only in rare occasions does the cross have one name on it.

My guess was that the cross is placed in the middle of four or two soldier bodies.

The German cross takes its design from the war crosses that were first erected during the war. However, this cemetery also had different headstones, which were aligned, next to the fence.

While driving to my drop-off place (at Boureuilles), we passed few monuments. The first one was Monument for Missouri next to Cheppy village.

The statue represent Victory. "ERICE par L'ETAT de MISSOURI E.U.A. a la MEMOIRE de ses MILS MORTS en FRANCE pour L'HUMANITE pendant la DRANDE GUERRE 1917 - 1918"

Further down the road at Varennes-en-Argonne, there is a monument for Pennsylvania. The village also has a regional history museum, which traces from Gallo-Roman times and also includes the Great war period. Before the war, about thousand people lived there. As the village, just like many others, got destroyed, no inhabitants were left there. Today 710 people lives Varennes.

Daniel dropped me at Boureuilles. At this point it was already late and it was hours past the time he wanted to be back home. He took additional kilometres to drive me closer to Vauquois.

At Boureuilles - a village of just 121 inhabitants - a monument for the fallen for France stands with all the names inscribed in plates.

The village was a part of a fierce fighting of Boureuilles-Vauquois line. The new houses and some empty spaces indicate, that it was rebuilt relatively recently.

                       

___

A big, very nice overview with visual information of the Battle of Verdun can be found here and here.

Part 2: the other stuff (personal, people, mishaps, misunderstandings and mysterious scary black insects all over)

I fell asleep with maps on myself. I did not sleep with knife anymore. I tried this once when I was warned about the dangers of wild camping. But after waking up with the tip of the knife right at my throat, I decided not do that any more.

I heard someone passing next to my tent in the morning. The French are very respectful - they did not ask or said anything to me, just passed. On my part, I left the place just the way I found it. Only grass was a bit squished ("leave no trace" camping philosophy).

When I started packing my things, I found that I wasn't sleeping alone. Actually, I was sleeping with a bunch of others. Ants. They crawled through the net at the top of the tent and were everywhere: on the backpack, on my clothes, in my sleeping-bag. Yet somehow, I was lucky and got bitten only once - right at the end of my packing.

I was walking towards Bras-sur-Meuse when Peugeot 806 stopped and offered to give me a ride to the village. It was only about 2 - 3 km. There were obvious traces of children in the car - toys were everywhere and I thought that the man should be a great dad - his fishing gear was dropped at the back to give place for the toys.
I did not know what I will find at Bras, so when I saw the cemetery, I was pleasantly surprised. But I still couldn't escape the flow of emotions. They are there. Each time I see the ruins of lives. Vacuity infests me. What could have become of all of them? How many writers? Painters? Engineers? Maybe we would have reached the environmental awareness and would have been able to lessen our effect on our Home because one of those guys would have been able to find a solution. Maybe one of those who lies nameless in the mass grave attached inseparately to his comrades..

There suppose to be a Tourism Information Office in Bras, but walking back and forth the main (and almost only) street, I did not manage to find it, so I continued to Charny-sur-Meuse. Walking to there one needs to cross a bridge over Meuse. There is a camping site right next to it. The riverside seemed quite "user friendly" so I decided to take a swim with my clothes - a cooling off and mental washing-up. I found steep stairs from the road to the river. The "stairs" were just wide enough to put my feet on.

The friendly riverside was just a mirage - it was overgrown with almost my size nettles and sedges. One side, which seemed more accessible, smelled quite badly. So, after wondering for more than needed, I climbed up those "stairs" and I could not get rid of a mental image of me falling down on my back because of the backpack weight... (fortunately, that did not happen).

Charny is a nice village. It's larger than Bras and has some neat details.

As I was passing through and looked at the cloudy sky, a person called out for me: "Do you have everything you need?" That was more than unexpected. "Yes. Thank You" - I was caught of guard and this was my instinctive response (not a good thing to have). People are amazing. He just gave some travellers on bicycles some water together with some directions and then I showed up. After declining his help, I understood that I might have rushed with my answer - I actually needed some water - I had some from a small stream people were canoeing in but it was running out. So I found civilian cemeteries and filled my bottled there. Water, few pieces of chocolate and some home-roasted peanuts - energy boost for the coming kilometres.

Walking from Charny was a bliss. It was the perfect weather too: cloudy, some slight refreshing wind, and a lovely terrain. Not so tiring as before with all that sun.

On my way further, I noticed a lot of small flies on me. I did not understand what they are but as soon as I got rid of them, more appeared. They were everywhere: on my arms, clothes, hair and on my face. As I just drank water from a stream where people were canoeing and I couldn't get rid of those black things, my first thought was "are they crawling out of me..?" The moment I entered Marre village, I took of all my clothes and tried to shake them from all my things, clean myself, spilled all the water just to make sure (even though it came from a clean source). I sat still for few minutes to understand are they really crawling out of me and I was happy to find out, that they were not. These nuisances were thrips (also known as corn flies). And their harassment was just starting...

At Chattancourt, I went to search the civil cemeteries as I did not have a drop of water after I spilled it. There was some kind of gathering next to the church with people having picnics, playing games - such a nice and idyllic Sunday view.
I spend quite some time next to the cemetery: I rested, eat and just enjoyed the small tree behind me. But there was still a bunch of kilometres I needed to cover today. It was about 19:00 (7 p.m.). The terrain outside Chattancourt changed and it started to be up-and-down. My plan was to get to Montfaucon-d'Argonne...

Just outside Chattancourt I started to hitchhike while walking. But it was Sunday evening, so I did not have a lot of hopes. Yet after some time a nice elderly man stopped. He didn't go to Montfaucon, but he offered to give me a ride for few kilometres. However, we ended up driving for probably almost two hours...

We started talking and I found out that Daniel was taking a Sunday's trip visiting the sites of the War. He also talked English, which made our communication much easier. So we went to all these sites together. Our first stop was at Cote 304. I had no idea what happened here. Or that anything stands here. But After getting out of the car, walking towards the monument, reading the inscription in French... I couldn't keep tears away (I probably should have gotten used to that by now, but it wasn't the case...). I could still hear the bombs, the creams, the moaning, the blood puddles. And I understood, that it will be like that through all of the trip in every site I will visit...

Later we climbed together all those 220 stairs to the top of Montfaucon monument (I was so happy that I didn't need to carry my big and small brothers with me and could just leave them in Daniel's car).

Of all the other sites, German cemetery... it looked so different. Especially after the American one, where the death seemed to be so over-wrapped in a lot of "gift paper" written "oh the glory of a soldier's death". To me it all felt like a lie. So the dark, simple, humble German cemetery felt honest. And I could almost hear "Sorry" while being in there. I could sense their suffering there as well as at the Ossuary.

We we said out goodbyes with Daniel. It was almost dark and I wanted to set up my tent before it the nigh, that is why I dropped the thought of walking to Vauquois. Instead I went towards a small river, but, just like any other river before, it was inaccessible for a tent. Yet enough for washing up.
For few hours, I walked back and forth looking for a place to sleep (I probably would have walked to Vauquois in the same amount of time... The wisdom is always). The small village felt as one big family, especially with big celebration (or maybe a casual get-together?) happening in one of the yards.

I found a farm at the edge of the village on the road to Vauquois. I was able to hear cows in the shed. It was about 22:00 (10 p.m.) already. I had no idea about the owners. Their house was nice and big, but since it was late, I thought it was rude to disturb them at such a late time and ask if I could set up my tent. Although invading property did not seem appropriate as well. My other choice was to sleep on a roadside - open for the eye of all the passing cars. Setting tents outside legal camping sites is illegal in France, as I was told. So I might get in trouble if a police or some other similar car passed. That's why I looked for a cover from cars. Another reason might be related to cultural influences - robbing. Even though I met only the best people, I had heard too much about the travelling robberies. So I set up my tent behind the farm's green fence, right at the corner. It was close to cows, so I could hear them. For some reason, being close to them had a calming effect and made me feel cosy (just like they say "you can take the person from a countryside, but you can't take the countryside from the person").