08 May - end of WW 2 in Europe
In the wake of Nicholas Sarkosy’s election triumph the French are being prepared for ‘change’. (personally, I think the electorate message was, ‘we want action’) In reality, the French loosen their hold on traditions very reluctantly, yet at the same time apply flexibility and pragmatism to embrace a contemporary 21st century lifestyle. I refer to it as the great French paradox, holding on and letting go in unison. But one tradition that rarely attracts any compromise is remembering and honouring those who died during the First and Second World Wars. Today recognises the end of WW 2 in Europe.
I have just come from attending the ceremony in our commune of Chaudenay (pop. 1000) along with two Australian and two American guests. So the Allies are well represented. The ceremony is typical of what is replicated right throughout France in every city, town, and village. We gather in the village square, usually around 50 or 60 people, of all generations and including a small number of veterans, medals proudly displayed on their chests. The mood is friendly but the normal exuberant greetings are muted due to the occasion. Our Mayor comes over to say hello and to welcome our guests. We fall in behind the local brass band to follow them the short distance to our War Memorial.
There, wreaths are soundlessly laid and a war veteran steps forward to read out aloud from the Memorial the names of the residents of Chaudenay who made the ultimate sacrifice. A sole bugler plays the ‘last post’. As it does all over the world, the eerie sound of the bugle never fails to transpose your mind to picture what the soldiers must have faced on the battlefields. The Mayor then makes a sombre speech of remembrance, twice he mentions the sacrifice made by the ‘Allies’ and he catches our eye as he does so. (we are two of only 3 foreign residents in our commune, the other being a Polish lady) After the Mayor’s speech concludes the band strikes up a stirring rendition of
La Marseillaise.
The Mayor then extends a formal invitation to all to move on to our local Salle des Fetes (community hall) to partake in a ‘vin de honneur’. I love that term, rather than guzzling a glass of wine at 10.00 in the morning (not that the French ever guzzle their wine) you feel you are respectfully toasting those who fought for freedom. So glasses are filled, slices of brioche are distributed, healthy conversation ensues. A few ‘locals’ come and talk with us, always interested (curious?) to know where our guests are from. The Mayor comes and makes his excuses, explaining he has to attend another ceremony at the nearby commune of Ebaty. A small occasion in social terms but a ‘grand’ tradition historically and culturally. A tradition that you sense will remain dear to French hearts for generations to come.
A Bientot,
Bruce.
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May 8th, 2007 at 2:07 pm
Is not every French commune different? We live in a small commune, with approximately 500 inhabitants. When we arrived here, we wanted somehow to blend in with the locals, even though that worked out to be quite difficult with our restricted level of knowledge of the French language. But the least we could do was try, and attend the beloved French ceremonies. We accidentally stumbled upon an article in our local paper, which said that the Ceremony for those deported during World War II was held at 11h00. Our “town” has 2 memorials, one in front of the church, for those who fell during the 2 world wars, and one outside town, for the deported. Meeting point was at the mairie. We were there, at 11h00 sharp, and because our village has 2 veterans, who have difficulty walking and a number of older people attending these ceremonies, we travelled by car from the mairie to the deportee monument (we, but we are though not young, luckily healthy, could have walked it faster than climbing in the car, parking it, and walking to the monument). One of the veterans (neither of them had medals, but both survived deportation) held a speech, while the other held the flag. After the wreath laying by the mayor, an old crackling radio played a resistance song, followed by the Marseillaise, and the whole procedure was repeated in the other direction, towards the war memorial in town. And then of course off to the vin d’honneur at the local hotel. More or less the same happened on the 8th of May, but in revised order. First the war memorial, and then the deportee memorial. On November 11 the only wreath was laid at the war memorial.
One would have thought that this is not so difficult to remember? One could be wrong!
The next season of commemorations had started, and we encountered our first problem. According to our beloved Sappeurs-Pompiers calendar 30 April was the Day of the deportees. Experience had taught us, that the ceremony started at 11h00. Hence there we were, on 30 April, at 10h45 to be sure, in front of the mairie. The fact that we drove past the monument, and that there were flowers there, was a bit of a give-away. And the fact that two of the local regulars, we had seen them on all previous occasions, were sipping a glass of wine at the local pub, could have told us something. To cut al long story short, they either had had the ceremony early that morning or the previous day, but we were certainly too late.
This was not going to happen again. We marched into the mairie last Friday, and asked what time the ceremony on the 8th of May was going to take place. A terrorist attack could not have had a more devastating effect than our simple questions. The secretary started to ask the other two people in the office, the mayor consulted his diary, the newspaper was phoned, and after waiting for approx. 15 minutes we were told that it was going to be 11h00, with lots of apologies about lost copies, faxes and god knows what not. Finally the mayor came out of his cubicle, shook hands, told the secretary that it was “très sympa de Monsieur et Madame” to attend these ceremonies, and that in future we should receive a convocation, and that was the end of our ordeal at the mairie. On the day itself we gathered at the mairie, together with the other regulars, hands were shaken, and we set off to the war memorial. The mayor held the speech that all mayors in France are holding, the veteran held his speech, and the car radio / cassette deck started playing the resistance song and the Marseillaise. And then the mayor dropped a clanger. He invited everybody over for the vin d’honneur; but we had not been to the deportee monument yet. One can imagine that this did not go down very well with those who actually remembered and lived through World War II, not to mention having been deported as well. I do not think that the mayor forgot the order of events on purpose, but the word not very thoughtful and inconsiderate springs to mind. The main problem was of course, that he could not correct his mistake. One cannot take a wreath from one monument to bring it to another. I think the mayor may count himself to be lucky that there are no elections in the very near future; this one would have cost him at least 2 votes!
May 9th, 2007 at 8:16 am
Enjoyed your story Cees. Quel faux pas!!