A Thousand Stars Away

Visiting Talbot House 2013 

Exterior view of Talbot House, in Poperinge, Belgium. The flags of Belgium and the United Kingdom out front and above a sign lettered Talbot House.
Talbot House, Poperinge, Belgium.
P. Ferguson image, September 2013

Sometimes it is worthwhile letting some time pass by. It’s an opportunity for better reflection and gathering those thoughts that have laced their way through our day until this moment when at long last it is time to sit down and put virtual type to virtual paper.

The most memorable visit on our recent sojourn to France and Flanders was a stop at Talbot House, Poperinge, Belgium. It was here that soldiers of the Great War were able to get away, even if momentarily, from the harsh realities of the frontlines in the Ypres Salient.

As I stand at the front of the building I look upwards to the sign dated 1915 – ? The last time I was here the building was covered with scaffolding but this time we are told of a side entrance whereby we gain entry into this wonderful site. It is filled, from the outset, with the hearts and souls of those who have passed through here from 1915 – 1918. It was here that soldiers gathered for a bit…and then returned to the scorched and twisted landscape…some never to pass this way again.

Lettering on the stairs leading to the loft at Talbot House, Poperinge, Belgium. The stairs are wooden and rather steep.
Lettering on the stairs:
EXCELSIOR, ONCE AGAIN! A COMPANION – LADDER THIS TIME, LEADING TO A LOFT. / PERHAPS 100,000 HAVE CLIMBED THESE STAIRS – BEFORE YOU, AND BEFORE / GOING UP THIS LINE. HERE YOU ARE ON HOLIER GROUND THAN ANY
P. Ferguson image, September 2013
Holier Ground Than Any. The loft at Talbot House.
P. Ferguson image, September 2013

I was immediately taken with the house and its furnishings and signs. It is here that the Great War is at peace today. I remember climbing about the stairs, looking at the rooms and then to the stairs leading to the loft. The stairs were rather pitched and narrow, but still we managed to climb into the loft where church services continue to be performed.  After having watched, in another part of the building, a short film on Talbot House troop entertainments, we settled onto some chairs and it was here that     our guide brought her words to us, creating an even greater sense of this place. “Twenty years ago there were veterans here. Their eyes, a thousand stars away. They don’t see you. They see other things”. (Annette, Camalou Tours) These words continue to remind me what Talbot House meant to those who visited during the Great War, and how their experiences have shaped some of us fortunate to have met a few of those witnesses to the war to end all wars.

Sometimes the Stars

—The Audreys (Adelaide, Australia, 2010)

Here I am confessing, you're lost to me now
I'm on a train telling strangers, about you
How you're still looking fine
How you ease my worried mind
Long, summers and wine
Yeah, you saved me
But sometimes the stars seem closer than they should
Like the more I knew, the less I understood
And the further that you got from me
The more I felt like I could see
The more I wondered if I should trust the stars
'Cause sometimes the stars
Here I am obsessing, that I lost you somehow
On a train full of strangers, and you
Every star look the same
All of those faces without names
They all drifted away
Is that when you left me?
'Cause sometimes the stars seem closer than they should
Like the more I knew, the less I understood
And the further that you got from me
The more I felt like I could see 
The more I wondered if I should trust the stars
'Cause sometimes the stars

Previously published Pipes of War website, 1 December 2013

It’s Best to be Dusty

From a Land so Torn and Muddy

For the ones that were there, for the ones we think about.

Music, soundtracks, the tonal qualities that bring resonance to the ear, that unfold in the mind and create depth, meaning and memories. Music has always reminded me of my journeys; recovering bits of forgotten time when that one note, that melody takes me back, returning me to places and events, the experiences of my past.

In this instance as I sit in the Secret Garden at the Crowded House Hotel in Eceabat, Gallipoli it seems that an Adele song will forever be etched into my being as a reminder of this trip. So too will I remember the people on our tour and the others I met along the way. Individuals such as Australian Peter Robb a regular visitor to Gallipoli, whose grandfather fought here, and who I told after a day of hiking and wandering across this peninsula, “Its best to be dusty”.

In an instant there is much laughter shared between us as we both understand the context…its essence…a homage to being here, getting out there, seeing the terrain, learning the hardships, the struggle…being in the heart of this place. Gallipoli is to the Australians as Vimy Ridge is to us Canadians and so two visitors, who have only just met, share stories, laughter, our heritage this evening, with a few other new friends while sipping upon cold beverages.

As I sit and think (as I sometimes do) seemingly wandering through the day’s events, I start thinking of home, perhaps just like one of the lads on this peninsula in 1915. Perhaps he is in a trench, scurrying across a ridge, seeking cover from the enfilade of fire and artillery? Maybe he thinks of an Emma or Katie, the ones at home…?

The cemetery at Lone Pine, Gallipoli. Amidst the markers and memorial a solitary tree, green against a blue sky with white clouds.
Lone Pine Cemetery, ANZAC, Gallipoli.
P. Ferguson image, May 2012

Somewhere along this journey, in preparation for visiting here, I discovered an Australian song by Mick Thomas entitled Gallipoli Rosemary. The song lingers with me, creeping up at times along the paths here and reminding me what this place means to others. The song tells us about a Rosemary bush that was pulled from this place, contained within a rucksack, taken to Australia and re-planted where it and cuttings from it continue to grow. Rosemary is a symbol of remembrance worn similar to poppies and seen on the lapels of visitors to the peninsula. The herb also has a reputation for improving memory, and as Mick Thomas sings it is now the only living link connecting Australia, their Gallipoli veterans and this peninsula of memory.

And so as I sit in the garden, listening to Adele, and talking with our host about our musical interests, Gallipoli Rosemary slips into my being, repeating itself time and time again. It’s not difficult, being connected to this peninsula, this trip into 1915. Tonight like that Great War soldier covered in dust wondering about the next day, Gallipoli Rosemary reminds me of my Emma or Katie, but in this instance, my girl Rosemary and once again I wander to the hotel’s internet and send a message home…

An Australian soldier in uniform wearing the familiar cap worn by soldiers of the Australian army. His sun shaped badges visible on his collar, a divisional patch on his upper sleeve and a wound badge at his cuff.
An Australian soldier’s message, “Best wishes for all times”.

Previously published Pipes of War website, 21 July 2012

Splinters

Black and white image of shattered, splintered trees on the western front. It is desolate...a haze upon the ground. Who is out there?
Splintered trees of the Western Front.

Fragments of Memory

Like inverted stakes in the hearts of France and Flanders, the splintered trees from the fields of battle stand as rooted silhouettes. Their splinters litter the ground on which men once walked, crawled or ran; the belligerent skelfs, large and small, hurling about tearing and ripping the flesh, piercing the souls of men.  Amongst the metal fragments, aimed engineering, gas and shrapnel balls these organic shards of nature took their toll. They, the soldiers, from all the pictures – seem to live in a world of black and white, with gray washes suggesting a continual haze from which men emerge between the trunks. The colour gone, leached from the landscape, drained into the ground where the roots of seemingly dead trees struggle to find a source of regeneration.

And yet with peace, and the passage of time, this bleak terrain that harnessed all participants for the years of the Great War has returned as green fields filled with new life. The shattered remains of Ents, witnesses to the dreary course of men have passed but like the bones of men, their fragments haunt the ground in search of sweet memories instead of the bitterness of war.

Splinters, bits of whole things, fragments of memory, much of it lost to us, but once in a while, captured in a note to mother or another loved one, in the rekindling of the past, or in the telling of a story that has survived. When Tolkien wrote his trilogy, there are reminders of the Great War woven throughout its pages, his time on the Somme, and the acts of men are there for all of us to become immersed. How few today realize that Tolkien’s epic reflects, his Great War, the age of men­­­.

Did you know?

John Ronald Reuel Tolkien served during the Great War with the 11th Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers. He arrived in France in June 1916 and during the Battle of the Somme was a signals officer.  Tolkien saw action at the Battle of Thiepval Ridge and took part in the assault on Schwaben Redoubt. Having suffered from trench foot on numerous occasions he developed trench fever in late October 1916 and returned to England November 8, 1916. The rest of his war was spent on garrison duties and in hospital. Still Tolkien’s experiences on the Somme gave to the world, through the sites he was witness, a trilogy long regarded as epic and classic in nature. Best then to remember his words, “By 1918 all but one of my close friends were dead.”

Previously published Pipes of War website, 29 April 2012

Side by Side

The twin gates at the old Naval college, Greenwich, England. Spheres atop rectangular stone columns. An iron gate in between.
The gates at the old Naval College, Greenwich, England.
P. Ferguson image, March 2011

All things considered this has been a fine day. It has been great wandering about and now sitting in The Old Brewery it is all rather relaxing and even more so when one realizes this brew house has been around since 1831.

It is almost time to start again and I rise up from the table. I move into the Discover Greenwich Visitor’s Centre and move about the exhibits with a watchful eye, casting my gaze all around, as I watch the visitors milling about. My other interests surface as I walk about the room. How has this display been put together? What have they chosen to assemble? How have things been grouped together? How has the text been created? And so it goes on. We have learned much today, and I am pleased with the results.

Together we move into the gift shop, and though I know there is always a shop around the corner in these centres, I like them. You never know what interesting things may be on offer, especially at a site such as this. We find a few things to bring home as gifts and perhaps an item or two for ourselves. Once at the till, we talk to a member of staff and have a fine chat. I was very pleased to learn about the number of films that have chosen this site for their films. Some of these films will be familiar to you and include, The Duchess, Sherlock Holmes, The Golden Compass, Patriot Games, The Wolfman, Young Victoria, Tomb Raider, Four Weddings and a Funeral and of course The Four Feathers. Thanks Abel – and to everyone who makes this site a splendid focus for Greenwich heritage.

Now I think back to A.E.W. Mason’s characters Jack Durrance, Edward Castleton, Tom Willoughby, William Trench and Harry Fevershem. As Rosemary and I walk through the gates and turn to look one last time at the old college (for this visit) I recall Harry and his father, General Fevershem, together again and wonder what the future might bring to Harry and Ethne.

Now that time has brought us to this point, I cannot help but think about Jack Durrance and his voice courtesy of Michael Schiffer’s screenplay. It seems to capture the essence… it reminds me of all those veterans I have spoken with over many years, and of all those who passed through the gates at Greenwich.

You may be lost, but you are not forgotten. For those who have traveled far, to fight in foreign lands, know that the soldier’s greatest comfort is to have his friends close at hand. In the heat of battle, it ceases to be an idea for which we fight. Or a flag. Rather we fight for the man on our left, and we fight for the man on our right. And when armies are scattered and the empires fall away, all that remains is the memory of those precious moments that we spent side by side.

Previously published Pipes of War website, 15 May 2011