Verdun

Photo: Author's own

Of the 60 million shells fired in the battle of Verdun during the 300 days and nights in 1916 about one in eight of them remained unexploded in this tract of land outside the city. The government declared this 10 000-hectare area a red zone, or ‘zone rouge’; part of the larger 150 000- hectare area stretching from the North Sea to the Swiss border: Its destruction so absolute it was considered not fit for human or animal habitation and too expensive to clear. This part was given over to agriculture and was subsequently replanted with German Pine as part of the war reparations.

From the start then, the Forest of Verdun has been considered a place of healing and reconciliation.

Today this protected area is one of the few places you walk as you would have done in 1918 with holes and craters, twisted barbed wire and worn away pieces of wood now covered with foliage, and hiding the bodies of tens of thousands of men.

I start an unofficial memorial walk at the Douaumont Ossuary.

The 137-meter length of the cloister features 22 alcoves which houses the unidentified remains of 130 000 soldiers. The walls are inscribed with the names of 4000. At each end burns an eternal flame at which visitors can (for a small donation) light a candle. It’s an austere and cold place and while certainly not made for lingering, it’s difficult to pass the names without reading those at least at eye level.

From the chapel it’s 210 narrow and winding steps to the top of the tower where each night the beacon shines red and white onto the battlefield. On the October day I climb the fog obscures the view over the necropolis, the Muslim monument, the monument to the Israelis, the Tranchées des Baïonnettes, the London Trenches and, at the high point of the right bank of the River Meuse, Fort Douaunmont itself.

Back into the huge and cavernous cloister where the Covid directed walk exits you onto the road where immediately in front and across the road is the National Necropolis de Militaire Verdun.

This is nothing like the cemeteries on the Somme, which besides the larger ones like Thiepval or Poziers are dotted amongst the villages and farms of rural life and surprise you on your journey to somewhere else. This national French cemetery is the largest in the world and is the resting place of over 16 000 French soldiers who died in the area. It spans a whole block and is visible from miles away whether travelling by car or foot. Like the others it is immaculately kept, and the rows and rows of uniform crosses are only broken by the fresh flowers and loving messages left by relatives.

From here you walk the kilometre or so towards the Tranchée des Baïonnettes where it is believed that two companies of a regiment were waiting for a bombardment to end. It never did and they were buried alive. They were discovered about three years later when a commander went to investigate what had happened and came across several bayonets sticking out from the mud. That story is probably apocryphal with the more likely truth being that soldiers returned and planted the rifles in memory of their fallen comrades. It is even doubtful that this is the actual site, nevertheless, the site is now a wide expanse of bare ground featuring crosses which have replaced the stolen bayonets and covered by a brutalist, cubist looking cement structure protecting the tomb. At the time, the architect Andre Ventre said that ‘… nothing could typify the tragedy and heroism of the bayonet trench better than the trench itself.’

The longest stretch of the walk takes you to Douaumont one of the many ‘villages détruit’ in the area. There are nine of these destroyed villages in the area and none of them have been rebuilt but left as they were to remind us of the ordinary civilian lives that were destroyed by the carnage. In each of them the remains of public place have been left and information boards guide the visitor through the lives of these small communities. In Douaumont small white wooden post on the sides of the road give the names of the families who lived in each of the ruined houses. Douaumont is where Charles de Gaulle, at the time the commander of 10th company was injured and taken prisoner.

The path from Douaumont to Fort Douaumont takes you straight through the forest, but there are clear entrances which are gated, although access for hikers is apparent. Detailed signs indicate that this is a military area but nowhere definitely barring the way for hikers to take the short cut through the woods to the Fort. I decide to take my chances. Off the path to avoid detection I stumble on an overgrown path heading in what I assume is the right direction and take it. Just a few feet in and it’s clear this is an old trench as what initially appeared just to be thick overgrowth is now clearly just covering for a soil bank. I am reminded of the tons of unexploded ordnance discovered every year in this killing fields and I hastily find my way back to the road and take the much longer route towards London Trench, which then leads to Fort Douaumont.

The London Trench was a communication trench connecting the Belleville Ridge to Fort Douaumont and while the trench itself has been left, visitors now walk the length of it along a specially created path. Surprisingly, it’s the busiest of the sites in this area.

Coming up to Fort Douaumont with the fog obscuring signs of 21st century tourism you can easily be back in 1916 with the huge fort looming out of the ground. Fort Douaumont was one of 19 similar forts constructed to protect the city of Verdun after the Franco Prussian wars of 1890. Despite being a massive structure protected by layers of concrete and surrounding by a moat and barbed wire, the fort was abandoned at the start of the war as it was believed that the Germans’ new super heavy howitzers would easily break through defences, as they had done in Belgium. When the battle broke out civilians from the nearby village of Douaumont sheltered in there but were overrun by the Germans just five days after the start. The Germans kept the fort until October 1916, when the French recaptured it.

Despite severe damage, the Fort retains its atmosphere or fear and violence. There are gun emplacements to explore, barred windows to peer through and dark corners to investigate. Scramble up over the grassed but uneven sides and find a foothold in a gun turret before peering through a watch tower to the dark, damp and echoing interior. This is the monument that allows you to crawl on your belly; move a branch with your teeth while your feet clamber to find a footing and your hands are simultaneously wiping sweat from your brow and burrowing into a sandy crevice just to get you to the edge of a protruding gun emplacement. It is the place where the previously inconvenient fog now become essential to the experience. I can’t see the valley below, but I know that there’s a group of German school children very close, maybe even as close as five meters. Is this how it was?

I continue my walk towards my final stop, the biggest of the ‘villages detruit’, Fleury. On my way, I pass the mosque-like memorial to the Islamic soldiers who fought for the French and the Jewish memorial. Then I pass a vast piece of abandoned but verdant land the size of a couple of football fields, but this resembles a moonscape with its crater holes and sunken trenches rendering it too dangerous to traverse.

The final stop on my walk is the village of Fleury-devant-Douaumont. It is just below a ridge and between three further communication forts: Souville, Belleville and St. Michel. The area between these forts, including the village, was heavily fortified for the expected German attack, and when it came reduced the houses to rubble. However, the battle continued, and it was only in August 1916 that the Moroccan Colonial Infantry Regiment regained control, but by that time, there was nothing left and the village and the evidence of the life it had sustained had disappeared. What’s left today is the result of clearance work which reveals the layout of the streets and houses, but also what very little remained after the bombardment.

I am drawn to the Somme because of personal connections and to the Ypres salient because of the Menin Gate and the heart-breaking dignity of the evening ceremony. Verdun was always just a name until my studies required a visit, and this has left an indelible mark and a deepened curiosity about WW1 away from the Western Front.