Tag: WW1

New Book Prologue Part 2

3 days in Arras - learn more about the battles of World War I

…I can also see narrow avenues or streets that exit and enter the square at its corners, like rivers entering or feeding a small lake. Amazing. The Grand Place of Arras is like an interaction of time, space, and place. To me this whole scene has a synergy to it. A beautiful synergy to some folk as everything falls into place. No matter the significance or insignificance of the place or the people, the Grand Place, as they call it, is the heartbeat of this city. It is here that you will find your government offices, your cobbler, fishmonger, boulangerie, patisserie, cafes, and even a cloth factory. Typically, the weekly market takes place at this location every Friday. Is it synergistic? It is—a beautiful synergy, like nature itself, where everything has its place and functionality by grand design.

And while it may seem beautiful to most, for me the whole scene is boringly beautiful.

But it wasn’t always this way.

No, it was not. And given the sad state of this place when I was last here twenty-two years ago, I cannot believe how much it has changed over a brief period. It seems like only yesterday that I was walking among the ruins of this place. It was a dreadful, terrible domicile of death. Arras is a dichotomy to me in that while the scene before me now is amazing—peaceful, restive, and reflective—I did everything in my power to shield my consciousness from the terror and horror that this place represents. Up until this point in time, Arras, and its vicinity to the plains and the hills and the outlying farms—did not exist.

“Dad…dad…DAD!”

Hmmm? Hmmm? I turned away from the window toward the sound of a familiar voice. Ah yes, my daughter. My beautiful daughter Charlotte. She has come to fetch me, no doubt. Just in time to pull me out of my funk.

I smiled at her, knowingly and lovingly.

“It is that time, sweetie?”

“Yes, dad. We must go. The dedication ceremony is scheduled to start in two hours. They want us there early.”

Of course they do, I thought. To form up, no doubt. The Army never changes its stripe. Early, early, early. Just in case. Hurry up, hurry up, lads. Hurry up and wait. That is the Army’s credo. To hurry up and wait. For what? To die?

I chuckled to myself.

“What’s so funny?” my daughter asked.

“Nothing sweetie. Nothing really.”

“It is going to be hot today dad. You will not need much. An umbrella perhaps, although they do not call for rain today.”

‘They? Who are they?’ I thought. ‘Ah yes, The Army brass. That is who they is.’

“I will bring a brollie sweetie. It gets stifling hot and humid around here at this time of year. You never can tell when the sky decides to fall in its thunderous fury, just like an Alberta summer blast.

More Al Stewart. For all you retired Navy types: Old Admirals

A musical metaphor for getting old and irrelevant!

Check out my books at the links at the top of the page. Good reads and would make great Christmas gifts. You would be helping out an old retired Royal Canadian Navy veteran.

www.johnmorrisonauthor.com

Also the Caminoman

Cheers.

New Book In The Works

I have started to write another book. Have not nailed down the title yet. Just finished the prologue. Here is an excerpt:

Arras, nord pas de calais, france Banque de photographies et d’images à haute résolution - Alamy

 

I cannot believe I am here. Yet here I am, standing here, safe, and secure in my own skin, looking out from the window and comfort of my room at the Grand Place Hotel in Arras, France. I am looking out and down and across to the wide, picturesque Cobblestone Square below. I shake my head in disbelief and awe as it looks so peaceful to me: quiet, primitive, and functionally beautiful in this early morning light on this clear, cloudless midsummer’s day.

 

As I look to my left, then to my right, and then straight ahead, I am amazed at how everything falls into place here. The buildings are neat and tidy: nothing like home, that’s for sure. I would hazard a guess that the buildings are of a European, Flemish-like design, common in these parts of France. Earth tones such as brown, rusty red, and muted orange have been introduced to the facades by the tradesmen to add variety and reduce the uniform gray appearance. The buildings share a uniform style, featuring rounded corners, cornices, and high-apex crowns. They rise to a stark contrast against the blue sky with a uniformity that is extremely impressive to me. Rising in this unvarying fashion from a foundation that includes continuous arches forming a long ground-level arcade, the buildings clearly serve a purpose. Obviously, this arcade acts as a transition from the business of each of the buildings to the open square. I would think it was by design. And considering the condition this place used to be in, it is likely based on old architectural plans or blueprints of the square. It offers shade from the hot July sun or shelter from frequent summer storms in this region. Protection for the common working-class folk of the city, as well as the professional class—or bourgeoisie, as they call those folk here.

 

One after the other, these buildings stand. Their distinct architectural lines—clean and functional on all sides—are broken by the ornate and impressive-looking Hotel de Ville,[1] with its grand baroque façade and impressive bell tower. I am amazed at the intricate stonework here. The stone masons of the day, who have restored these buildings from complete ruin, are true artists in my mind. Intricate carvings and chiseling that bring the stone to life. These craftsmen are not content to just throw them up as fast as possible, like we would do at home. No, no, no, as I shake my head in disbelief. All the windows, doors, and portals; the cornices, crowns, and gables have been constructed with acute care and precision, as if they were restoring a painting by Michelangelo. This is very impressive to me.

 

Yet all the facades are similar in style and placement on every one of these buildings, except the City Hall. To me, it seems as if this building—the Hotel de Ville, or Mairie, as they call it—emits a civil authority and forms the very core of the Grand Place of Arras. In some respects, at least in my way of thinking, its structure acts as a template for the adjoining buildings to take their shape and cue for their pattern and lines, cornices, and buttresses, all the while remaining true but subordinate to the design and functionality of the imposing City Hall. It is as if the Hotel de Ville resembles a stone “Queen Bee,” controlling the dictate from which the design of the other buildings takes shape. Side by side, they expand from the core of the Hotel de Ville to form all sides of the square—or the hive. They are identical but subordinate edifices that are inanimate, very narrow, and tall, and connected at their sides. I have heard, or have read somewhere, that by design they all share the same character and are constructed in an elaborate brick-and-mortar style. I would not know about that, but to me, as they stand there, as each entity makes up the whole, they resemble soldiers on parade. Or like sentinels who are protecting their “Queen.” At all costs.

‘Queen? Bee? C’mon, Kilian. Give your head a shake.’

[1] City Hall

I have rediscovered Al Stewart. He had a number of songs out in the late 70s. His songs tell a story and are highly descriptive in nature. This one: “Year of the Cat” came out in 1976. To me it is the perfect song: great lyrics, piano, acoustic guitar, strings, electric guitar and a haunting sax. Hope you like it.

I would love to receive some comments from you all.

SJ…Out.