Zeltus

Today is Armistice Day, when, on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918, the First World War ended.

It is a public holiday here in France, which is a jolly decent idea. At 11 o’clock – or some time around then – the French are not noted for their timekeeping skills! – D The Maire, attended by all the local Veterans, a bunch of ex-pats, a pleasingly large number of children and other inhabitants of this commune, congregate around the war memorial, just outside our house, and hold a short dedication. One of the children made a short speech, explaining why it is important that this ceremony is relevant and must be continued.

One particularly poignant part of the proceedings is when the Maire, as he does every year, read out the names of all the dead commemorated on the memorial, and at each name we responded “Mort pour France”. That’ll make sure no-one forgets the names of the fallen.

As ever, clicking on the photos throws up a larger, more detailed one.

Of course, my family has it’s own names to commemorate – I recommend a visit to the Roll of Honour. This site is a really good way to encourage both Remembrance and the upkeep and maintenance of all war memorials.

The Maire emphasised that this was not a purely French ceremony. It commemorates all those who fell in all wars. And as such, he thanked us all, les étrangers in particular, for attending. We British do tend to stand out a bit as we all wear our Poppies. The French flower of Remembrance is the Bleuet, or Cornflower. It’s a bit of a shame that they don’t utilise it’s beauty more but simply have a basic stylised motif on an old-fashioned sticky lapel flag.

The event ends with everyone moving to the Mairie, for Pineau (umm, French sherry, for want of a better description) and Kir, so that everyone can meet and greet each other. All in all, a dignified, simple and expressive ceremony that makes exactly the right impression.

If memory serves my right, until the Falklands War, the Act of Remembrance in the UK was rather muted – there was certainly no nationwide two minute silence, T.V. coverage tended to be limited to the laying of wreathes ceremony at the Cenotaph. The general malaise regarding this event was surely best summed up when that twerp Michael Foot turned up at the Cenotaph wearing a brown tweed jacket. Nowadays, most people in the UK seem to make an honest and genuine effort to honour the sacrifices made by the Forces in all wars and engagements. And quite rightly too. I do however have a few qualms about how early Poppies are appearing on lapels, especially on the lapels of politicians and media personalities. I’d like to think it’s a truly respectful statement but the cynic in me wonders if there is not a touch of “I wear mine longer than you, I’m therefore more righteous” creeping in to the whole business. I hope I am wrong.

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