Quote:
Originally posted by V_D
I imagine Geoff, Sunray Minor, and Hanno (anyone else?) walking through Beny Sur Mer and viewing the gravesites of all the people at rest there ... with a much fuller and profound awareness. A fuller experience of realities.
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An interesting experience, which I will recount for you:
First of all, Karmen, I will return your gentle thoughts of me with thanks and appreciation... this place wouldn't be the same without you. You are the essence of those whom we purport to represent here, and we love you for it. Despite the ribbing which we give you (and take, I daresay!
), you add a previously unexplored dimension to MLU. Thank you for that.
As Hanno said, it was a privilege to serve your family at Beny-sur-mer. Duty. Honour. Respect. In the end, that's all there is, isn't it?
Speaking of Beny-sur-mer... as you know, my son, Shawn, was a Rifleman with the Queen's Own Rifles of Canada. Both my father and I paraded with them, so I guess it's now our 'family regiment'...
Anyway, the QOR had been at the cemetery earlier that week, and had left a plastic marker on EVERY QOR grave, one with the the regimental badge thereon... I think that moved Shawn more than anything else. Seeing the badge he has worn himself on the graves of dozens of lads younger than himself.
As Hanno has recorded on film (thank you, sir!), we did a proper tribute to Uncle Eddie. After that, while Shawn wondered about - no doubt in some turmoil as indicated above - I started to move back to the cemetery entrance. I had removed my beret at this time (I'd had it on to salute Rfn Smith, but was otherwise out-of-uniform). As I approached the entrance fromt he landward side, I noticed an old chap with no cap on, but carrying a full set of campaign medals, sitting in the shade of an ancient tree by one of the towers. His eyes showed everything... they stared back across 60 years of lost friendships and ancient terrors. He was OF another time - that which we poorly try to preserve - and IN another time - that which we can only vaguely understand because we haven't been there.
I saw him, stopped walking, put on my beret, and as I continued past him, gave him the salute of my life. I said, "Sir!" - he focussed on me and returned the salute almost as if he were surprised to get one - and then I said "Thank you.".
And in the background, a tour group from the Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders was embussing... but one of their pipers had drawn out his pipes and was playing a lament, by himself.
The whole experience was one of the most moving I've ever had.
I don't know who the old gentleman was, nor even from what regiment; I didn't want to violate the sanctity of the moment he was reliving. But if anything at all can bridge the gap between then and now...
THAT was Beny-sur-mer, for me.
G.