BernardReid (1886-1916)

"Soon we are glad to move off again. As we do we pass busy figures showing darkly in the night carrying outthe war's stealthy business, and an occasional cry from a sentinel meetsus as we pass on.  Along a trench, in which you feel safe after theexperience of [a] bombardment, we stumbled rather than walked along foran interminable distance, till with some consciousness of a new startingof things and some strange curiosity, partly devoted to the weary figurespassing out, we arrived at the trench proper.  In spite of our fatigue,we move with our eyes and senses all curious for what life here is like;what way we are to spend the two days here.  The sleeping figuresof the men we pass, huddled on fire steps or under improvised shelters,a waterproof sheet covering them from cold and rain, provoke one's mind;their weariness and their powers of contentment."

My cousin, as his letter testifies, was a sensitiveand creative man. He was a friend of Hilaire Belloc and George Moore, correspondencefrom whom is in the family archive, attended the fledglingUniversity College Dublin, already numbering James Joyce among its alumni,and was president of the University Literary Society.  Following graduationhe was editor of an influential literary and political review.  In1912 he travelled to the west of Ireland (directly following the exampleof Yeats and Synge) and to the continent a number of times (his familyhaving an intimate knowledge of and relationship with France).

As a committed and activeIrish Nationalist  my cousin's decision to become a British officerwas the most difficult of  his life, a decision that seems paradoxicaltoday and needs some historical context to beproperly understood.  From his writing it appears that he fought firstfor Belgium - a cultured, Catholic democracy, and model for a post-colonialIreland - and then for Ireland itself, in so far as serving in the Britishforces would serve her ends.
 
Bernard Reid died in action on June 28th, 1916.
 

Visiting Vermelles

While living in Paris we went to visit BernardReid's grave in the Military Cemetery at Vermelles, not far from wherehe died.  (If  you wish to discover the whereabouts of a particularwar grave in Franceyou can call the Commonwealth War Graves Commission there at (03) 21-71-03-24.You give them the name; they give you the exact location of the grave andcemetery.)

We travelled north on the TGV, trusting to publictransport to take us to Vermelles, where Bernard was buried.  Thelandscape soon becomes flat and unremarkable, broken only by towering slagheaps dating from  Zola's time and down which  adventurous localsski during the winter. Needless to say the place abounds in war memorialsand graveyards.

Arriving in Béthune we quickly learnedthat there is virtually no public transport in Northern France andscant Government interest in the well-being of the citizens there. As inEngland the policy of abandoning both mines and heavy industry continuesto bring painfully high levels of unemployment. Unlike England howeverthere is the added anguish of two vicious wars having being fought outupon the territory, many towns and villages having been razed and rebuilttwo or three times over.

Such  painful experiences has produced aprovincial populace of unparalleled generosity, some of whom went milesout of their way to ferry us about the place. Eventually, having made themistake of getting off the bus at Noyelles-Les-Vermelles rather than Vermelles- you can understand that mistake, can't you? - we were driven to the correct place, the first relatives to have visited in some decades. (Here are detaileddirections for those who need them.)

Vermelles, to quote the literature of  theWar Graves Commission, is a village and commune in the the minefield ofthe Pas-de-Calais, midway between Béthune and Lens.  Enclosedby low rubble wallsthe cemetery is on the South-Western outskirts of the village. I have rarelystepped in a more peaceful place: it is planted with mountain ash, Irishyews, limes and other trees, and stands in flat country, among cottagesand farm buildings. One can see from it the Bouvigny Ridge and Noyelleschurch.

Vermelles was in German hands from the middleof October to the beginning of December, 1914, when it was recaptured bythe French. The cemetery was begun in August, 1915, though a few graveswere slightly earlier. During the Battle of Loos the nearby Chateau wasused as a dressing station. Among the 2,124 graves are the remains of British, Irish, Canadian, French, and even German soldiers. There are alsothree soldiers from Bermuda and 194 unnamed graves.
 

Vimy

After leaving the cemetery we visited the Canadian war memorial at Vimy,some ten kilometres northeastof Arras. A monumental figure, cloaked and forlorn, gazes out from a ridgewhich over three and a half thousand Canadians lost  their lives inrecapturing. Canada lost sixty thousand men in World War One.

Around the memorial, like so many other regions in this part of Europe,lie numerous unexploded mines and the landscape, still deformed by fighting,is dotted with signs warning visitors to keep to the paths.  Nearbyis a carefully preserved network of trenches (a picture of which is above)and tunnels.

From Vimy we walked and hitched our way back to the TGV station at Arras,falling successfully  upon the extreme generosity of the locals oncemore.  Within hours we were back at our flat in the Seventh, downthe street from the Assemblée Nationale and in a district of Parisas remote from  war and its horrors as it is from slag heaps, unemployment,and the resounding quiet of the North.