A week ago today I went to The Somme and, to my surprise, saw all I wanted to see within a day. I hadn't realised everything was so close together. Thiepval, The Ulster Tower, Beaumont-Hamel, Pozières. War graves, memorials, The Somme museum. All within a few short miles of each other. And yet think how much death there was in that tiny area of France. My mind can't comprehend it, and I still don't know how I feel about it all. To walk in real trenches and try to imagine what went on right there. Right where I was standing. My heart can't take it all in ..
There was one particular name engraved on a memorial. O'Neill, MJ. My name, my initials. Rest in peace, you poor sod. It made me feel so bloody lucky that I was born when I was. No conscription for me. No world at war, no hardship. No early death. And yet ..
My picture shows the Thiepval Memorial to The Missing of The Somme. Seventy-three thousand men that just disappeared into the mud and blood of the battlefield. How can we take all that in in our soft, modern times? Perhaps if I asked the soldiers of Ukraine, because here we are, one hundred and ten years on, still physically battering each other to death with shells and bullets and hate ..
I know how I feel now.
