Coming in on the ferry from Newhaven,looking at the white cliffs at each end of the beach,my only thought was that this was a good defensive position.To the left of the harbour entrance was a cement casement which had fallen onto the beach.But from where it fell from halfway up the cliff was a perfect golfball indentation,indicating the amount of fire directed at this particular battery.Having a 4 hour layover for the train to Paris,I walked the main beach.The stones underfoot would move to my footsteps easily.No wonder the Calgarys' couldn' get the tanks up on to the promenade.I then took a trip out to the cemetary wiith a French cab driver who was excited because we were, des Canadiens, to take us there (and guarentee too get us back to the train station in the inner quay entrance to the harbour.Looking at the ages of the dead brought tears to my eyes(18,19 ,20 ,21)and I didn't have any Kleenex.I'll never forget these sacred sights as long as I live.
