L’angélus

  L'angélus

The church bell tolls the hour across a somber field
Under summer evening’s hazy, slanted light.
The day’s potato harvest at their feet between,
A woman and a man in pra’er devotion stand.
Their daily tools of toil aside them idly lain
And crying birds in flight above on higher plane.

Signaled three times daily in previous centuries by the local church bell, the Angelus is a prayer devotion in the Catholic faith. Its name refers to the angel Gabriel who brought rather astonishing news to Mary (Luke 1:26-38).

In 1859, French painter Jean-François Millet captured the solemn moment in one of his most famous paintings named after the prayer.

I remember learning about the prayer and the painting in Art History class. Nineteenth century Europe was a different time, a different place and both so far away from Newberry, South Carolina, in the early 1990s that it cried, like the birds in flight above, straight over my head.

Having been recently reminded of these things, I did some research and discovered that L’angélus, the painting, currently resides at the Musée d’Orsay in Paris. No more so far away.

Furthermore, I learned that the painter himself lived and worked in a village a half-hour drive south of here. And so begins my pilgrimage to Barbizon.

L'angélusPhotograph of L'angélus by Jean-François Millet at the Musée d'Orsay, Paris

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The Butte of Vauquois

My great grandfather, Benjamin Franklin Potts, was a U.S. infantryman in the Meuse-Argonne Offensive, near Verdun, France, in 1918.

My Nanna once asked him, “Well, Daddy, what did you think about France?”

He said, “It’s a very muddy place.”

At 24 years old, B.F. Potts was a soldier in the 137th Infantry Regiment, which was part of the 35th Infantry Division. In September 1918, the 35th was ordered to take the “Vauquois Zone,” a sector with a 2-mile wide front which included the Butte of Vauquois (pronounced /voh-qua/).

The Butte of Vauquois is a hill raising 100 meters (330 ft.) above the surrounding countryside. The hilltop provides a commanding view of the terrain on three sides, including the strategic railway from Verdun to Paris.

The German army moved into Vauquois in early September 1914 at the beginning of the war. By the end of the month, the French tried to retake the hill, and the battle for the Butte of Vauquois began. The battle here would rage for four long years.

Before the war, a couple hundred people lived in the village of Vauquois at the top of the hill. From the start of the battle until the end, the hilltop was showered with artillery. In the spring of 1915, when ground offensives became ineffective, a war of mine-and-counter-mine began. 

Summit of the Butte of Vauquois

Summit of the Butte of Vauquois, August 2009, showing German trenches (foreground), mine craters (middleground), and the French monument to the combatants and the dead of Vauquois (background)

After several months in place, the German troops had constructed a network of trenches that, coupled with the steep terrain, made a formidable defense against ground attack. So the French would dig a tunnel from a protected side of the hill to a position they gauged to be beneath the enemy trenches, pack in a few tons of explosives, light the fuse, and run like hell. The resulting explosion would create a crater on the surface, its size roughly corresponding to the amount of explosives used.

That’s what “mining” means to a ground army. When the enemy catches on to what you’re doing and starts listening to the ground and making their own tunnels beneath your tunnels and packing explosives in them, that’s what they call “counter-mining.”

The largest mine used at Vauquois was set by the Germans. It contained 60 tons of explosives. It made a surface crater 80 feet deep and 300 feet wide and killed 108 French soldiers in two lines of trenches. The war of mine-and-counter-mine went on for three years, until April of 1918.

By the time Private Potts arrived in September, France must have been a very muddy place, indeed.

 


Sources: I put together this article from a few photocopied pages of a larger work of family genealogy and history assembled by my great uncle, John Wesley Potts, and a visit to the area and its museums in 2009.

After the war, the ground was littered with explosives and still is today. The former inhabitants of the hilltop village re-established their community at the foot of the hill.

The website of the Association of the Friends of Vauquois and its Region has a couple of nice photos and information on visiting the site.

The guided tour of the underground galleries where the mine war took place is enlightening, educational, and horrific.


A Very Muddy Place

My great grandfather, like many veterans, didn’t talk much about his wartime experience. His family has only his discharge paper and a few anecdotes.

One hundred years later, I’ve discovered a few documents that bear his name. From draft registration to discharge, I’m following the paper trail of B. F. Potts’ journey to the battlefields of the Great War in France and back home again.

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Prélude de Paris

Paris, Metro station Châtelet, Thursday noon.

Approaching line 4, you start to hear airs of Brahms, Vivaldi or Mozart. The vibrations through the tiled corridors give the impression that you've stumbled into a grand concert hall. Around the next corner, there's the orchestra.

The modest venue is misleading. Prélude de Paris is a professional orchestra, having made European and African tours and appeared on several radio and television programs.

Still the orchestra performs here every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. The price of admission is only the cost of your metro ticket and whatever change is leftover from your last coffee of the morning. You can also buy a CD and take the memory home with you.

Prélude de Paris

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James A. Owen’s Meditations Trilogy

Every now and again as we go through life, something comes along to change the way we look at it. It might be a book we read or something someone says to us or a mountain-top revelation that gives us a fleeting glimpse of something bigger than we might have imagined or had ever thought possible.

Those who make miracles happenThat happened to me again last month when I heard this guy's talk at a seminar. James A. Owen is a graphic artist who has had some tough breaks in his own life. By tough breaks, I mean life-threatening breaks and breaks that might have been career-ending for a normal human. Despite multiple challenges, James is still living and he's still an artist.

Among other works, he makes graphic novels for children. When his publisher sends him out to talk to kids about his books, he talks instead about some of the obstacles he has faced, how he overcame them and what lessons he learned from the experience.

Lessons like: What we really need in life is for someone to believe in us, someone who will support us, someone who will catch us when we fall.

Lessons like: If you really want to do something, no one can stop you. But if you really don't want to do something, no one can help you.

That's the talk I heard and when I heard James tell his story, I didn't get just a fleeting glimpse of something bigger; I got a panoramic view. And it wasn’t fleeting, the view is persistent. A door opened and I stepped through it.

I see now, in very real, concrete terms, that life is not a straight line that we have to go through. It's a wide open field that we get to explore. And if we really want to do that, we just have to recognize and acknowledge our fears — those fears that keep us going along the obligatory straight line — then pluck up our courage and believe in ourselves to overcome those fears and strike out on our own. We also have to believe in, encourage and support the people we choose to go exploring with. Because those people will believe in us, they'll support us, and they'll catch us when we fall.

That's what heroes do. And we can all be heroes, if we really want to.

James has been giving that talk for several years now. A few years ago he wrote it all down in a book of meditations, called Drawing out the Dragons, which is available in paperback and ebook. Since then, he has written two more books of meditations, The Barbizon Diaries and The Grand Design. These last two have previously only been available in ebook.

James is currently running a kickstarter project to put out all three books in a nice hardcover set. At different reward levels you can get one, two or all three of them for a reasonable price.

Through Monday, you can download all three ebooks for free on Amazon (links above). Have a look at them and consider supporting James's kickstarter: The Meditations Trilogy.

And if you ever get a chance to go hear James speak, do go — and take your kids. He's a great guy to go exploring with.

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Me and Reg and Boyd

Boyd opened his jacket half-way and pulled a gun out of the inside pocket. It was a pistol, all black with a dull shine.

“Where'd you get that?” said Reg.

“Found it. At the landfill.” Boyd looked at the ground. “It was just lying there.”

“Can I hold it?” I said.

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