DAY 239 - DAMVILLERS TO VERDUN

18 December, 2011

15.5 miles (Total: 2378 miles) –31,000 (Total: 5,101,001 steps)

I set off for Verdun carrying my full rucksack for the first time since breaking my arm and dislocating my shoulder six weeks ago. I immediately recognised that it was just too soon—I would position the weight around my waist as tight as I could, but as soon as it slid down and the weight transferred to my shoulder I knew about it!

It was a struggle through the snow over the high ground of Flabas and then down into Beaumont, but on arrival I saw a small gathering serving something hot in a small car park. I decided to seek some shelter and perhaps manage to get a drink to warm up. The gathering turned out to be a meeting of the local amateur radio enthusiasts and they were marking the anniversary of the end of the Battle of Verdun in 1916.

It is a weakness not to be able to speak French and no-one in the gathering spoke English, but it is amazing how much you are able to communicate. After thirty minutes we were exchanging jokes mostly around the British veto at the European Council—they served me coffee and gestured to me if I would like to have some sugar, I responded with a gesture of ‘no’ to which someone said, “Ah, British veto!”

Communication can be conducted in many ways and language is only one part of the process. Indeed sometimes words, even as a politician I must admit, do not carry the full or even the true meaning. Not having the crutch of the spoken word we become much more attentive to gestures, facial expressions and to trying to piece together fragments of words to construct a sentence of meaning. In short you need to work harder to understand and to be understood, but the results are more lasting.  I know, for instance, that my host was from Damvillers, where he was a police officer for many years, but then had an accident and took retirement and it was then that he became involved in the amateur radio group. He has two grandchildren who are in Paris and had considered standing for election at one stage.

I walked on through the forests which had been the scene of such vicious fighting in the First World War and which, when it ended, had left 500,000 young men dead and another 500,000 wounded. As I walked along, I reflected on the death and wanton destruction for absolutely no gain—the front line after the battle remained in exactly the same place as it had before it began. In fact, the entire strategy was not to gain ground, but to ‘bleed the French army white’ by drawing in vast numbers of soldiers and killing them. The German strategy was incomprehensible, judged from this point in history, as the dead and casualties were 500,000 on each side. That the French fell for it, was again incomprehensible.

This was such an important part of the walk, probably the most important since I had walked from Sarajevo to Mostar, in trying to understand why we have such a lust for killing and why apparently sane individuals have conducted it on such an industrial scale.

Gary Streeter called, as he has done a couple of times a week ever since I had set off from Greece. His calls are always a source of encouragement and helpful in processing the experiences and thoughts I was having. I have concluded that the definition of a good friendship is that it brings the best out in both of you. In fact this is the test of all good relationships – marriages  and even business partnerships—do they bring out the best in you and do they enable you to see the best in others? I must confess there are some friends and family who bring out the worst in me, but Gary has always brought out the best and helped me to see the best in others—that is why the friendship has prospered for twenty years and why it has been a constant source of strength and encouragement to us both, but especially to me over the past ten months.

The thoughts of the close bonds of friendship seemed to jar awkwardly with the enmity and scarred landscape that surrounded me.  Then in Bras-sur-Meuse I saw the first of many military cemeteries around Verdun. I wasn’t quite prepared for it and as it came fully into view and small white crosses stood to attention as far as the eye could see, I found myself saying, firstly quietly and then out loud, “No, no, no.” I walked through the lines and then came upon a Muslim grave backing to a Christian grave and only a short distance away a Jewish headstone and I just found tears beginning to roll down my cheeks. I sat there and thought, why? Why didn’t someone stand up with a voice of sanity in the midst of the pointless slaughter?  Where was reason? Where was wisdom? Where was humanity? Where was restraint? Where was proportion? Where was compassion? Where was empathy? The truth is, that they were the first seven casualties of war, in fact they are the first casualties of every war. Where they still exist, they must be taken out and summarily executed and their bodies dumped in an unmarked grave before battle can commence; for if their existence was even rumoured to  be alive, then such terror could never be unleashed.

DAY 238 - LONGWY TO DAMVILLERS: 25.9 MILES (51,800 STEPS)

17 December, 2011

25.9 miles (Total: 2362.5 miles) –51,800 (Total: 5,070,001 steps)

It was time to leave the Residence in Luxembourg and it was a wrench; a bit like choosing to go back out into the freezing cold and driving rain when settled in front of a roaring fire, with good friends and watching a great movie. The plus side was that Alice, George and ‘Dido’ decided to give me a lift down to Longwy and then, taking pity on me, took my rucksack on to Damvillers where I was staying that night—it was a fantastic final gesture by fantastic hosts and it turned out to be absolutely critical.

Pete and I had spent the previous evening searching for accommodation midway between Longwy and Verdun and we could find none. The only place was in a place called Damvillers, which was well over half way, around 45km. I concluded that was my only option, but thought that I might be able to navigate a route which was nearer 35km by going via St. Laurent-sur-Othain. Ever the optimist I set off and as is often the case when I get moving and on the road, I was glad to be clocking up miles again.

My first target point was Longuyon, which I had thought was about 15km, but in fact was 21km—this was my first clue that the great short-cut was not going to in fact be much of a short cut at all. I decided to try and find somewhere in to eat and get some shelter from the rain, but the only place open was a betting shop where they clearly had not heard of the EU  ‘smoking ban’—I didn’t last long and was out on the road again, without having had any food, and heading for St Laurent.  I approached as it was getting dark and the rain stopped and a glorious evening sunset appeared as I looked beyond St Laurent and towards the battlefields of Verdun. I paused near a memorial with a wind-worn crucifix that seemed to capture the mood of these killing fields of 1916, in which over 500,000 young men lost their lives.

In St Laurent I sought some directions—in the square a large number of cars were arriving and well dressed people getting out and milling around. It turned out to be a sixtieth wedding anniversary and I talked with some of the younger members of the family who spoke good English. They advised me that it was just too far to get to Damvillers and that I should seek out somewhere to stay and they offered to speak with some fellow family members who might be willing to put me up—it was very kind, but my rucksack was at Hotel Croix Blance on Rue Carnot, Damvillers, the room had been paid for and they were expecting me. I decided to walk on, even though by this time it was dark and there was another 14 km to go.

What I should have thought more of was that the last 10 km of the walk from Merles was to be through a dense forest. It was pitch black in the forest, freezing cold and without my head ‘power torch’ I wouldn’t have been able to see one foot in front of the other. As well as been pitch black it was also eerily quiet so that I could hear every flutter or rustle of leaves and then my mind would imagine wildly what was causing it. I would then imaging that I was actually on the wrong path and would strain my eyes for any sign of lights in the distance indicating a road or a town. I decided that I would produce my second high-powered torch and hold it so that it would look to anyone or anything that there were two of us. Still there is nothing like been a little scared to up the walking pace and I pounded the path at an almost running pace. It was at this point, around 35km into the day’s walk, that I realised that had I been carrying my 15 kilo rucksack as well, I simply would not have been able to make it. Once again I gave thanks for Alice and George, but would have been even happier to have had ‘Dido’ straining at the leash to keep me company on that final stretch.

I arrived into Damvillers as exhausted as I could recall after any day—the 41km had been a very hard 41k. I arrived at the hotel and received a very warm welcome. The restaurant was closed, but the hosts said they would make me a hot meal upstairs and provided a hot shower. I sat and ate my meal and reflected on another close run thing, but satisfied in the knowledge that although it had been a tough day today, there was going to be a slightly easier day tomorrow as the signs indicated that it was only 25km to Verdun. Overnight snow was to bring a fresh set of challenges, but tomorrow was another day and I gave thanks for arriving safely to a warm and welcoming place on this one.

DAY 237 - LUXEMBOURG AND TANDEL

16 December, 2011

2336.6 miles–5,018,201 steps

A fierce storm gathered pace during the night, rattling the windows. Snow was forecast. When Alice told me about the day ahead and suggested that it could be a good one to get involved in rather than to set off walking, I didn’t take much convincing.  The key event of the day was the commemoration of the US forces who were killed in the Battle of the Bulge and is organised every year by the Friends of Patton’s 26^th Infantry, who felt the full force of the German counter-offensive in the Winter of 1944 in Luxembourg and the Luxembourgians have never forgotten their sacrifice.

Before the act of commemoration, which was a Night Vigil in Tandel about an hours drive north of Luxembourg city, there was another packed day. In the morning I was given the privilege of attending a session of the UK Trade & Investment Conference along with Alice Walpole (HMA Luxembourg), Paul Arkwright (HMA to The Hague) and Jonathan Brenton (HMA to Brussels). The presentations were extremely encouraging—the Benelux team were ahead of forecast on virtually every measure. At heart I am a salesman, to a greater or lesser degree all politicians are, so I love to hear about potential high value deals and targets and working with British businesses to make sure we get our share of this huge market of Benelux, which in cash terms dwarfs trade with China, India, Brazil and Russia.

One side issue on the ‘small world’ theme, was that Michiel Veldhuizen, Head of UKTI in the Netherlands was actually from Durham—my home-town before setting off on the walk. Moreover, his parents are moving back to the Netherlands and their home, which is one of the finest in the city overlooking the cathedral, was up for sale.  Over drinks I took soundings on ‘offers in the region of’, but concluded swiftly that unless my Premium Bonds have come up whilst I am out of the country, then it is well out of my league, but great to catch up on news from Durham.

One of the things, which I have seen at first hand on this walk, is just how incredibly blessed we are with the quality of our diplomats and trade representatives. These people would be flying high in any commercial organisation and the fact that they choose to devote themselves to helping other people make money, rather than having that as their primary objective themselves, is hugely impressive and I don’t think we pay tribute to them enough largely because their work goes on day in day out behind the scenes. But it is a fair bet that if you read of a major new order overseas or a major new investment in the UK, then British diplomats and UKTI have played an instrumental role in bringing the deal to fruition.

As if to underline this appreciation of the diplomatic effort in support of British business, Alice walpole was invited to give the keynote address at the British Chamber of Commerce Christmas Lunch at the Hemicycle, Kirchberg. I had a stroke of luck because I had previously worked with Liz Main, now one of the leaders of the British Chamber of Commerce in Luxembourg, when she served in Rt Hon Sir John Wheeler’s Office when he was Security Minister for Northern Ireland and I was his Parliamentary Private Secretary. I asked Alice what she would like me to do, she looked at me and said with a smile, “Get in there circulate and try and be interesting.”  “I’ll do my best Ma’am,” I replied. I found a great place next to Francis and Angela Hoogerwerf, Matt Moran, CFO of Lombard, Mikkel Stroerup and Marine Tse of the China-Luxembourg Chamber of Commerce, Steve Giddings  of National Grid—in fact I was reflecting that even though I had only been in Luxembourg for a few days, I was meeting some people for the third time. It was a great opportunity again to spread word of the Truce and to listen to views on Europe and the economy.

Alice gave a brilliant and inspiring speech re-asserting the UK commitment to Europe, which was re-assuring to the audience, well to a point. I must confess that I have found since the deployment of the British veto in Germany, France and now in Luxembourg, there is a sanguine view of the British; we seem to have earned in some, less diplomatic sections, the reputation of the disgruntled employee who is forever complaining about the firm and then one day comes in and presents his resignation and is slightly surprised when the response is a sweet smile of ‘Okay, best of luck then.’ I am coming quickly to the conclusion that Britain doesn’t get Europe and in return Europe doesn’t get Britain. For Europe the EU is a political necessity to prevent more hundreds of hectares being taken up with war memorials and small white crosses. For Britain, it is understood to meant purely an economic trade zone, because England has had the good fortune to border Wales and Scotland, not France and Germany. Something’s got to give, but no one is in the mood to give ground. Saying ‘no’ to Britain goes down as well in Paris and Berlin, as saying ‘no’ to Europe goes down in Westminster, but you don’t read that in the Daily Mail.

After lunch I found myself in for a real treat as it was back to the Residence for tea with the US Ambassador, Robert Mandell. Bob is an easy going, but no-non-sense kind of diplomat; it is easy to see how Alice and he get on so well, even without the ‘Special relationship’ epaulet. Alice, Bob and I travelled up to the ‘Night Vigil’ in the US Ambassador’s bomb/bullet proof Cadillac—the doors were so heavy I was unable to close it and needed the burly chauffer to slam it closed. It was a fascinating conversation on the way up in the car as we were able to range freely and widely across the whole political and economic situation.

For some reason I anticipated that we were going somewhere to stand in a field for the act of remembrance, but as we drew up at the school building where the event was to be held, there were hundreds of people there in military and civilian dress and the entrance to the school was marked out with flaming tree trunks. The Night Vigil is held in a different town each year and when it is their town the residents turn out in force, such is their genuine gratitude for what the Americans did for them. This wasn’t forced sentiment. This was genuine gratitude. For them the events of that cold December evening could have been yesterday, not 67 years ago, and their expressions of thanks and genuine remembrance for the 50,000 plus US casualties, who died in order that they may be liberated. They include General Patton, America’s greatest wartime General, who is buried Luxembourg—with his men.

Again it brought home to me, as I spoke to the veterans and locals, that this is why the EU and NATO are vital to them—through NATO, chiefly the Americans and British guarantee their physical security; through the EU, chiefly the French and Germans they guarantee their political stability. Viewed from Luxembourg and especially from Tandel, it all makes perfect sense in a way which viewed from Durham or London it couldn’t, not in the same way at least.

Bob Mandell spoke movingly, taking the lessons of the events that night 67 years ago and effortlessly brought them up to date and applied them to the modern setting of political and economic uncertainty. The event finished with a party and presentations and again, as if to emphasise the ‘small world’, the singing of Al Jolson and Andrews Sisters classics was led by ‘Cas’ –the forces sweetheart from Deal in Kent—she did us proud.