– One Century Later

With neighbors and friends, we stood at the War Monument in our small village deep in the south of France and we remembered. Though not born here, I could remember the grandfather I met and the one I didn’t have the opportunity to meet. Peace
Thank you Afzal my friend.

23 thoughts on “ – One Century Later

    1. Thank you dear friend. Like every city and every small village, we all turned out to honor those who served. Bisous et calins mon cher ami.

      1. thank you, my dear friend.

        we cannot and must not ever forget those who came before us and who struggled and fought and died for the noble cause of freedom from tyranny.

      2. indeed, my friend. BUT we are many more and we shall never let our history be rewritten or embellished or tarnished by those who seek to promote divisiveness and not unity of all humankind.

        We SHALL Overcome!

      3. I couldn’t agree more and that is one of the reasons I hope you are working on your book/memoir!

      4. And there is so much to do. I am so grateful you are on our side. Bisous et calins mon ami!

  1. Belated thanks for standing there. My grandfather fought in WWI. They were 8 brothers. Only three, including him, came back. Every small village in France (but also in Germany and Austria…) has its own Monument aux morts. The names are a heartbreak. Entire families wiped out. I once, by pure chance, visited my grandfather’s village in Brittany. hadn’t planned to. Just saw the name on the map. Detoured. The monument aux morts at Piré-sur Seiche is almost a family “property”. Half of it is covered wth my relatives…
    Merci pour eux.

    1. Even those who made it out from the war took it with them in various ways. One of my grandfathers returned home with TB. The other mustard gas in his lungs. My father was here in WWII and he kept fighting that war for the rest of his days. I went for them and all the others. Being part of a village I go for my village as well.

      1. TB was a massive killer up to WWII.
        Gas? It p… me off when I hear it is still used.
        Sorry about your father. Fortunately many managed to put the war behind them. But not all. Sometimes I wonder what my grandfather would think of today’s worldwide “bruits de bottes”. In 1918, my grandfather brought a German Mauser rifle home. War trophy I guess. Never asked him how he’d got it. in 1940, when the Germans came bak, he wrapped the rifle in oily rags, buried it in the garden. Just in case. 🙂
        My brother still has the rifle.
        And yes, you went for both villages. Nice.

      2. The grandfather that lived long enough for me to know, always had an oxygen tank and a suitcase of medicines about. As far as I know, it was his only war memento. He did have a large needlepoint he made while in the hospital of his regemental crest. The 72nd Seaforth Highlanders.
        The village suits me now. If I want to go into town or a city, a day or two is more than enough. Besides, writing and painting are solitary occupations… 🙂

      3. They were tough people. Survived many things. Even with an oxygen tank. 🙂
        Highlanders? Highlanders? I had to look it up. Oh. So you’re Canadian? (Silly me I thought you were “Murrikan”.) 😉
        That was a prestigious regiment . Served on the Somme, at Ypres, probably were your grandfather was gassed. “Ypérite” was one of the first gasses. Courtesy of the German Chemical industry…
        Enjoy the peace, writing and painting.
        A bientôt Léa.

      4. Grandpa was born in London, his father, Scotland and his mother Ireland. He married a lass from Cardiff. My other grandfather was Swedish. I am what is known as a mutt… 😉

      5. Indeed you are. And proudly so. I’m glad you mention the word. When asked about my “ethnicity” or “where are you from?”, I sometimes say I’m a cultural mongrel… 🙂

      6. I do understand. Even before I was of school age, I knew I belonged in Europe. Of course that is one of the many things about me that was intolerable. C’est la vie! I couldn’t be happier. 🙂

      7. Well, I’m glad. Happiness can be so hard to find sometimes. And if my dear country has contributed, it makes me even happier. Bon week-end Léa.

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