Cost of Freedom (near Dunkirk, France)

The sign fixed on the old stone wall was a small rectangle that simply read, “Necropole Nationale-Zuydcoote. A small logo in the upper left corner of the sign, in France’s red, white and blue,  is the top part of a cross with a vintage WWI helmet angled to the left, perched on top of the cross. Then below the simple sign, a black on white plaque, with this:

1914-1918

1939-1945

I had a sudden realization standing at the gates of this national cemetery in northern France. The people living in this part of the world, in a span of just over 20 years, saw more atrocities than my country has seen since its inception.

I almost drove by this place, traveling from the beaches of Dunkirk to Caen. But something told me to pull over and take a look around. Then, apparently the same thing, told me to open the gate and step inside.

Private W. Sykes  Age 27  Army Service Corps 29 May 1918

“Worthy of Remembrance”

Rowland Sharpe  Age 22  Royal Field Artillery    16 Nov 1917

“O God Our Help in Ages Past

Our Hope in Years to Come”

2nd Lt W.S. McLaren  Age 19  Royal Flying Corps    19 Nov 1917

“They Died that We May Live”

Directly in front of me, and dominating the landscape, are several hundred cement/stone crosses, arranged precisely in rows with the name, rank and death date of French soldiers.

To the right of those were dozens of shorter, stubbier crosses, marking the graves of German soldiers. To the left, were several hundred traditional shaped tombstones, rounded at the top, all facing a 10 ft., Celtic- style cross in front of the far left wall.

JW Membery  Age 23  Royal Garrison Artillery   6 Oct 1917

“Let Brotherly Love Continue (Heb 13.1)”

Private WJ Jackson  Age 25  Cameron Highlanders  4 Nov 1917

“To live in the Hearts we Leave behind is not to Die”

Gunner T. Coates  Age 25  Royal Garrison Artillery   28 Oct 1917

“In the midst of Life we are in Death”

I found myself walking instinctively to the left side and toward the rounded tombstones, whose blank side, faced me. I noticed a heavy gold-plated door about 16 in. tall and 10 in. wide with a gold cross in the center and the words “Cemetery Registry” above. It was attached to the outer wall of the yard, near the large cross. I grabbed the handle and opened the door and found 20 sheets of paper bound together protected by sheets of plastic. The title page read:

“Commonwealth War Graves 1914-1918” and underneath was this description: “The men buried in this cemetery are mostly casualties of the 1917 fighting in the Nieuport sector who died in the hospital at Zuydcoote. The cemetery contains the graves of 314 British, 5 Canadian, 1 Australian, 4 New Zealand, 2 South African and 1 Belgian soldier and sailors.”

I turned to face the front of the stones and I saw a corp or regiment logo at the top of each stone, then age, assignment and date of death. A small minority of the stones also had simple inscriptions, some obscured by flowers or dirt build-up at the bottom of the stone. I crouched down next to the one close to me and gently pushed back a flower to read:

Private GK Watson  Age 19  Royal Scots  4 Nov 1917

“He Died that good might Come

Yet Lord my Heart is Sore”

Then, the next stone to his right:

Private FC Keevil  Age 19  Royal Innuskilling Fusiliers   7 Sept 1917

“Not Here But in a Better Land”

And to the left:

Private H. Hilton  Age 23  Manchester Regiment   8 Nov 1917

“Christ will clasp the broken chain closer

When we meet again”

Not far from this place, at the Battle of Somme, nearly 1 million soldiers lost their lives. Death tolls for the “The Great War” was nearly 10 million military and over 10 million civilians. Standing at this sacred place I was moved by the beauty of the place and found it hard to imagine the volumes of violence in this peaceful land.

I was also moved by the ages of the men, whose remains surrounded me, and thought of the hardships of these families who lost so many young lives. Ultimately, in this section of hallowed ground, on French soil, honoring their native heroes, I was moved by the idea that those who fought with them and against them, should be honored in the same space.

Bombardier F.G. Hoad  Age 21 Royal Garrison Artillery  25 Oct 1917

“For Such is the Kingdom of Heaven”

Private J. Fullard  Age 19  Royal Fusiliers   18 Oct 1917

“His end was Peace”

Private W.H. Spring   Age 22  Manchester Regiment   8 Oct 1917

“He who dies for England sleeps with God”

A potential drive-by, turned into an hour where I felt humbled and honored to be amongst these heroes and to read the tributes etched on their stones. I walked row after row, taking in all the information which marked each grave and simultaneously felt the beauty and horror of it all.

Since I have spent countless hours on the seat of a bicycle, this soldier instantly became my personal hero. The message etched in his stone seemed to sum up all the mixture of feelings and thoughts of my time here:

Private A. Bedwell  Age 29  Armed Cyclist Corps   30 Sept 1917

“ Thy Will Be Done”

Private Bedwell was the oldest soldier I had seen, even though he hadn’t even reached three decades of life.

I was free to roam this place for as long as I like. A sixty-two year-old from Jersey who was free to travel from the US to Stockholm to Amsterdam, then England, and now headed down the Normandie coast. I freely crossed borders from nation to nation, and was met with a warm welcome wherever I landed.

These young men, these boys, offered up their lives for their families and their countries, so they could remain free. I felt gratitude and the utmost respect for them and felt the least I could do to honor them was to walk among them and read their markers.

Some of them were still teenagers, most in their 20’s, but one, in the final row I visited, had managed to make it to the ripe old age of 34. It was his simple and profound message, I will carry in my memory forever. On this trip, I had felt my own father’s presence with me, not only here, but on most of my two week odyssey. So this Private’s marker brought everything home.

Private John Davidson  Age 34 Machine Gun Corps   9 Sept 1917

“In a hero’s grave he lies

A dear Daddy”

A young father, who was the oldest one laid to rest here. I thought of his children and how the “War to end all War” impacted their lives. Then, once more in their lifetime, 20 years later, it happens again. I realized how blessed I am and how the hardships in my lifetime pale in comparison to theirs.

The cost of freedom, laid out in precisely perfect rows, near beautiful beaches in France.

I recommend you visit one day, you are free to do so.