First day of the Somme + 100

Regardless of politics, the Brits have been doing an amazing job of commemorating the First World War. Starting with Lights Out, the hour of darkness that engulfed the country on the centenary of the assassination in Sarajevo that started it all, and continuing with the “Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red” installation at the Tower of London, the arts have led the way in this effort.

Yesterday, of course, there were many very moving events and services for the first day of the Battle of the Somme, including a vigil by both civilians and military held at the Grave of the Unknown Warrior in Westminster Abbey through the night of 30 June-1 July.

(Photo from the Daily Mail.)

That grave, after all, holds the remains of a soldier brought over from Northern France in November 1920, lost in the war that was supposed to put paid to war. Yesterday, Queen Elizabeth II laid a wreath at the tomb.

There was also an all-night vigil at the Thiepval Memorial at the heart of the battlefield:

The memorial was built between 1928 and 1932, and I have to say that I find it just the teensiest bit bombastic; definitely a product of its times. But what is extraordinary, to me, is its monumental size (which you get a hint of from the above photo, courtesy of the Daily Mail: those little dots by the center plinth are soldiers standing watch), combined with the fact that all four sides of each of the 16 piers holding it up are covered with the names of those I call the-lost-but-never-found: the 72,246 men who were killed along the Somme between 1915 and 1918—but never identified.

The day I went there it was swirling in fog, and I came across it suddenly. I was utterly unprepared for the size, and completely overwhelmed by the names. My first thought, as it loomed out of the mist, was, “Damn, that is one ugly structure.” Then I saw the names. And when you’re walking among the pillars, it’s as though they’ll never stop. It’s horrifying.

Thursday night they placed lights in front of all the headstones that mark the graves of the dead who could be identified, and the effect was of lumenarias. Lumenarias light the way for Mary and Joseph at Christmas. You can imagine for yourself what they might have illuminated at Thiepval this week.

(Both photos from The Telegraph.)

And there was a very beautiful service there yesterday, with Royals and heads of states, and soldiers.

But the commemoration I found the most powerful was one staged across the country by 14-18 NOW, an arts organization formed to keep World War I in the eyes and memories of the country. 

For twelve hours on Friday, men dressed in full WWI kit appeared at transportation hubs up and down Britain, in an event called “We’re Here Because We’re Here,” and hashtagged #wearehere.

The performers were volunteers, aged 16 to 52, which is representative of the age span of the majority of soldiers who formed the attack on the first day of the Somme. They showed up in London, Glasgow, Bristol, Leeds, Sheffield, Birmingham, Chester, Swansea, Manchester and other cities, in complete silence except for the occasional rendition of “We’re Here Because We’re Here”, which the men they portray would probably have sung on their way to the front.

Viz. this video from Kevin Johnson, via Twitter, shot in Plymouth:

Plymouth train station #wearehere pic.twitter.com/RdD4EzIuV0

— Kevin Johnson (@Kev_Johnson__) July 1, 2016

They also handed out cards printed with the name and details of the specific soldier they were portraying. And each one they represented was killed on 1 July 1916.

If they were going for a one-to-one ratio, they’d have to pass out nearly 20,000 separate cards.

What “We’re Here Because We’re Here” has accomplished is to distill the vague notion of “first day of the Somme” and “58,000 casualties” down to a name and age on a card, associated with a face in wool drab uniform, heading off to eternity.

Which is, to my mind, the way it should be.