Reflections on the past...

Well, It has been a whirlwind of adventure over the past week and I apologize for not posting. I am still caught thinking about Mont Valerien and these thoughts have been joined by those that I now have with regards to the two-day tour of the Normandy battlegrounds and beaches. I am flooded on a daily basis with reflections, thoughts, questions and a search for answers.

Mont Valerien is a moving memorial to World War II, soldiers and all fought to free France under the Occupation. If you Google the site, you will see beautiful images of the bronze depictions of various parts of the group that contributed to the freedom of France. There is an eternal flame and when you enter into the actual memorial (under lock and key) you are met with a sobering reminder as there are sixteen coffins in the crypt representing each part of the war. A seventeenth has been reserved for the last living member of the Resistance/Liberators, all of whom are now 85 and older. They certainly have planned though to honor these men and women in an important way.

While that was extremely moving, one of the most emotional pieces was climbing the hill and witnessing what occurred there. This hill had always been important historically and holds an old fort atop it. However, during the war and Occupation, over 1000 people were brought there and systematically executed. There is a bell that was crafted with each name on it that rests across from a small chapel. This chapel served as a "holding" cell for all those awaiting execution. Letters were written to families and loved ones, sometimes on the walls and others on scraps of whatever they could find. One of the most powerful things was listening to an individual from our group read a copy of one of these letters written by a 17 year old boy to his father before he was led off to be shot. The power of the spoken word is truly amazing.

After this recitation, we went to the actual field where these people were executed by firing squad. I am including a photo of one of the executions. Only three photos actually survive to this day and were recovered years later when it was discovered that a German soldier had taken photos of one of the killings. We walked down a cobble-stoned alleyway where these resistors were taken to their death. That walk was sobering in and of itself. However, it was striking to sit and contemplate this extremely peaceful place and face the realization that it was the location of such death and debasement. These individuals were killed for being communists, passing out resistance flyers, being Jewish, being a member of the Resistance, or for simply speaking out. Over 1000 lives lost, many of whom were in their late teens and early twenties. What might have become of these lives cut short? I am consistently awe-struck by the extent to which we as humans can treat one another.