My great uncle Jack Walker served with the Royal Fusiliers in WW1.
He survived the Somme only to be wounded later in 1917.
From the battalion diary
Location: Billets in St Pierre a Gouy
26/07/1916
Dull and close. Battalion carried out musketty, physical training and bayonet fighting.
Royal Fusiliers at bayonet training.
Continuing the day to day activities of 12th Battalion , Royal Fusiliers, 102 years ago as the Battle of the Somme dragged on. Extract from Battalion Diary.
Today they made a lengthy train journey from the Meteren area south towards Amiens and then marched 14 miles at night to new billets. This was not good news. They were heading towards The Somme.
Battalion Diary entry for July 24, 1916.
“Damp and cloudy, slight rain. Battalion entrained at Bailleul at 1.30pm and detrained at Longueau near Amiens at 10pm. At 10.30pm the Battalion moved off to billets at St Pierre a Gouy, a distance of approximately 14 miles which was accomplished with only 2 men falling out – a very satisfactory result taking into consideration that the men had no practice in route marching having been in trenches so many months”
I’ve just returned from a trip to Belgium and France where I recorded material for BBC Radio 4.
While there I retraced the steps of my great Uncle Jack Walker who served with the 12th Battalion, Royal Fusiliers. He survived the horrors of the Somme only to be severely wounded later.
This is from the battalion diary 102 years ago to this very day. They were based at this stage of the war in Meteren, France.
Captured in bloody fighting from the Germans in 1914 and held by the British for most of the war, Meteren wasn’t in the front line of the Battle of the Somme but shelling was a daily hazard.
JULY 23, 1916.
Location: Billets near Meteren.
“A very fine day. No 1 company held sports and no 2 and no 4 companies held a concert , both were great successes.
2nd Lt Wattenbach returned from 2nd Army Technical school.
The following is an extract from the 5th Army Corps memo Q591 dated 23/7/1916 to the 67th IB (Infantry Brigade)
“Reference raid carried out by the 12th Royal Fusiliers. The Army commander considers that the operations carried out by the 12th Royal Fusiliers reflects much credit on all concerned and were well planned and carried out. The Divisional Commander has great pleasure in forwarding the above remarks of the Army Commander and heartily endorses the same. The fact that no identifications could be obtained in no way detracts from his keen appreciation of the good work so ably carried out by all ranks.
The Brigade Commanding Officer also added his congratulations to those of the Divisional Commander.
The minor operation was carried out under the supervision of the second in command Major AB Dick Cleland. It was entirely owing to the carefully thought out plan arranged and made by him that the success was due.
Jack Walker. 12th Royal Fusiliers.
My love affair with long distance trails began back in 2012 when I walked the Camino de Santiago as a non-religious pilgrim. That year more than 250,000 people walked the route. This year it was closer to 280,000. For whatever reasons, people are becoming attracted to these ancient paths in ever increasing numbers. Here, in reverse order, are the ones I’ve enjoyed the most.
8) – St Hilda’s Way. (North Yorkshire, England) Opened last summer. Forty three miles starting from the beautiful village church of Hinderwell in North Yorkshire where St Hilda herself brought forth water on her way to Whitby. The route crosses the moors and takes in a number of lovely country churches all associated with Hilda. It finishes among the ruins of Whitby Abbey perched high on the clifftop – also the setting for a memorable scene in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Walk here at night and you’re likely to come across a few Goths soaking up the atmosphere.
7) – The White Horse Trail. (Wiltshire, England) Not strictly a pilgrimage but this 90 mile path through Wiltshire takes in eight giant horses cut into the chalk downs . The spiritual element – if that’s what you’re after – comes from passing through Avebury Stone Circle – a truly impressive feat of Neolithic engineering that for my money outshines Stonehenge. The Druids may have practised here long after the great circle of Sarsen stones was constructed for some other long-forgotten purpose but that doesn’t stop their modern day descendants celebrating here – most celebrations seem to involve copious quantities of alcohol.
6) – St Paul’s Trail, (Turkey.)Not for the faint hearted but stick with it and you’ll have a tale to tell the grandkids. This 300 mile route heads due north from the ancient ruins of Perga just east of Antalya to the equally ancient ruins of Antioch in Pisidia near the modern town of Yalvac. . It was here that Christianity was born after Paul and Barnabas were chased out of the synagogue. They “shook the dust” from their feet and turned to the gentiles. In reality, The Bible says next to nothing about this journey but the route – drawn up by English ex pat Kate Clow – follows a direct line North and you’ll find yourself walking on stretches of ancient Roman Road that St Paul would probably have used. It cuts through forests and mountains and stunning canyons. When I walked it back in 2013 the waymarking was somewhat variable and accommodation was basic to say the least. But the locals were always pleased to see a tourist far from the beaten track and did their best to help with food and lodging. Two fish farms on the way provide beds and the best fish dinner you’ll ever eat. Beware the Anatolian herding dogs though. Not to be trifled with. A sturdy walking stick is essential.
5) – Mount Athos ( Greece.) If you’re a woman then skip this one. In fact, you have no choice The Orthodox monks who live in 20 monasteries stretched across the mountain have banned females for centuries. That includes female animals as well. Although it’s not an island it feels like one. The only way of getting on to this semi-autonomous enclave is by boat. Only ten non-Greeks are allowed on it per day and you have to apply for a special permit. You have four days in which to walk to whichever monasteries you have pre-booked, You eat in silence with the monks who are quite a dour lot if truth be told. But accommodation and food is free. And you are welcomed at the end of a day’s trekking with the traditional glass of Raki, Ice cold water and Turkish delight. You can also hike to the top of Mount Athos if you’re feeling particularly tough. Just don’t take any pictures of the monks – they don’t like it.
4) – Caminho da Fe ( Brazil.) Three hundred miles through the sugar cane plantations and mountains of stunningly beautiful Minas Gerais state in South East Brazil. This trail was designed by the lugubrious Almiro Grings, a retired businessman who twice walked the Camino de Santiago in Spain and decided to construct something in Brazil. Yellow arrows point the way and there is a network of cheap hotels and pousadas (hostels) You may want to give the plantations a miss after a day or so..the monotony can be wearing. But once you’re in the mountains – wow! You’ll see the most breathtaking night skies, awe inspiring sunrises and sunsets and drink free Cachaca with friendly locals (it’s a sugar based spirit that goes into Caiparinha cocktails) The Caminho finishes in Aparacida where the second biggest basilica in the world holds the tiny clay statue of the Madonna found in nearby river in 1717. It’s been linked with many miracles. Twelve million South American Catholics visit the basilica every year . But don’t worry – only a handful walk the Caminho.
3) – Camino de Santiago de Compostela. ( France and Spain.) The classic pilgrimage trail and my first magical experience of long distance hiking. Start from anywhere you like but the most popular route is the Camino Frances – 500 miles from the French town of St Jean Pied de Port in the Pyrenees. Again, yellow arrows point the way ever westwards – it’s almost impossible to get lost. You pass through numerous tiny towns and villages but also the three major cities of Pamplona, Burgos and Leon where the nightlife provides a welcome break from the rigours of the trail. Aubergues (hostels) provide cheap and basic accommodation and meals. Do it in summer – it’s hot but not murderously hot (this is the North of Spain) Finish at Santiago where the bones of the St James the apostle are said to rest..or carry on to the coast at Finisterre (end of the world) Some Peregrinos (pilgrims) burn their clothes there in a symbolic act of renewal. Along the way you’ll walk with pilgrims from across the world. Some for a few hours, some for a few days and maybe some for the estimated 4 weeks it takes the average hiker. It’s likely that lifelong friendships will be formed. Be warned though – many pilgrims find it difficult to return to the routine of normal life almost everyone gets the post Camino blues.
2) Via Francigena, (England, France, Switzerland and Italy) . Got a spare three months available? Why not walk 1,100 miles from Canterbury to Rome in the footsteps of the 10th century Archbishop of Canterbury, Sigeric the Serious ? . I’ve walked the last third through the Emilia Romagna and Tuscany regions and it’s the closest I’ve come to re-creating the Camino de Santiago experience. In fact, I’m rating it more highly than the Camino because you don’t have anywhere near the numbers which, by all accounts, are starting to ruin the Spanish experience. That said, there are still enough travellers on the route to make for convivial evenings in beautiful though little known Tuscan towns. . I remember one great night in Siena drinking red wine with new friends in the main square and another drinking several bottles of gorgeous white in a wine cellar in San Gimignano. If you’re doing the whole route timing is important . You can only cross the Great St Bernard Pass in Switzerland after it opens in June which means you hit Italy in the height of Summer. France can be a challenge ( or so I’ve heard.) And the rice fields of the Po Valley are torture in summer – no shade and swarms of mosquitoes. But I’m determined to do the whole route. One day.
Last night I stayed in Sutri which I suspect is the last decent town before I hit Rome.
It’s fanous for a number of reasons ..not least the amphitheatre carved out of solid volcanic rock which academics – in their own inimitable way – think is definitely Etruscan. Or Roman.
But it’s the encounter with two formidable characters from history I’ll always remember.
The emperor Charlemagne whom I encountered on the Camino de Santiago passed through here and was rather taken with the local Sutri beans which cured his wind. I have to say it rather did the opposite for me.
But sitting in a cafe at the evening’s end I had a more sinister encounter.
My waiter , who had the appearance of an ugly front row hooker who used to play for England, had an unusual tattoo on his forearm. looking more closely I noticed with some alarm it was a very detailed representation of Mussolini.
“WTF!” ! I exclaimed to a fellow pilgrim who spoke Italian.
She had a quick conversation with the waiter and explained all was OK
“OK?.How the hell is that OK?”
Was it some kind of ironic gesture accompanied by a subtle anti fascist message ?
“no…his grandfather admired Mussolini and told him that he did some good things in Italy ”
Not a view which I suspect would be echoed in what was Abysinnia or by those Italians who shot him and strung him upside down from the roof of a petrol station.
My grandad had certain right wing views but I never had the urge to have the masthead of the Daily Express carved into my arm.
And as a New Zealand pilgrim here said ..
“if he respected his grandad so much why didn’t he have HIS face tattooed on his arm ?”
Which I think is a sensible point.
There are many reasons to regret leaving Montefiascone.
The stunning views of Lake Bolsena and the sunsets from the Pilgrims Tower
The hospitality of the nuns at the convent.
But mostly it’s the local wine. Called Est! Est!! Est !!!
The legend says a 13th century German Bishop Johannes Fugger – on his way to the coronation of the Holy Roman Emperor – preferred to lubricate the long stages of his journey. Like me.
He sent his servant ahead to identify which places served the best wine with instructions to write Vinum Est Bonum (wine is good ?) On the doors of worthy inns.
The servant – through laziness or a drunken inability to write, abbreviated it to Est.
When he reached Montefiascone the wine was so good he wrote Est!Est!! Est !!!
Not that it did Bishop Fugger any good. He stayed in Montefiascone and drank himself to death.
For which I have a sneaking admiration.
But to be honest. He was a bit of a stupid Fugger.
Last night I stayed in a convent. Not something I do on a regular basis .
Only two nuns live here now. So tthe place is run for pilgrims by hospialeros Roberta and Maria. They do a fantastic job welcoming us and cooking our evening meal.
There’s no set fee. It’s donativo which means you give as much or as little as you wish.
The meal was followed with some sort of alcoholic liquorice spirit concocted by one of Roberta’s mates.
Didn’t Just William drink liquorice water ? If he’d drunk this stuff his band of outlaws would probably have been pissed enough to carry out an actual breach of the law.
It was a great evening. Ending with The Great Washing Up debate.
As,pilgrims we had a moral duty to help so I donned rubber gloves and ran the water at its hottest. With plenty of washing up liquid.
I was passing the pots to my Dutch friend to dry when one of our Italian pilgrims informed me I wasn’t doing it properly.
“Don’t tell me how to wash up…I KNOW how to wash up. I spend half my life washing up…”,
But apparently,I know nothing cos I had to rinse the pots under the cold tap before,passing them to the drier
My protestations that putting them under the cold tap made it harder to dry were ignored with contempt.
“Faster faster .” She ordered until I was virtually slinging plates and pots across the kitchen in an attempt to prove my domestic virility.
Next time I’ll do the cooking
A fee days ago I witnessed the aftermath of a wildfire as I walked through a charred and smoking wilderness
Today, from an paralleled viewpoint , I watched this depressing spectacle unfold in front of my eyes.
From the castle tower at Radicofani we were enjoying what is,the most spectacular landscape I’ve ever seen..the rolling Tuscan hills stretching to the horizon.
Then we noticed a puff of smoke about two miles to the west. It grew. The yellowed grass seem to turn black as we watched. Then I saw flames…like an advancing army just ahead of the blackened fields.
A fire watchman was co-ordinating the emergency response via radio from the tower.
One helicopter arrived making repeated runs to a pond to scoop up huge containers of water. but the flames,spread. Every so often a tree would explode as the fire swept down the valley.
I’ve walked through those woods,and can attest to the variety of wildlife…wild boar,..hawks and livestock as well.
Another helicopter arrived. I was Impressed by the way they constantly flew deep into the blinding smoke to drop their water bombs.
I know they,say fires can lead to regeneration. But after a most enjoyable day it was a little depressing.
It feels like I’m moving through the real Tuscany. Vineyards abound. Along with olive grives , pencil -thin cypress trees, fields of sunflowers and olive groves.
All very life enhancing but two days ago I wasn’t feeling quite as uplifted
We’d stopped at a hostel run by Roberto and his wife. Dedicated Christians and I guess spiritual descendants of the Knights Hospitalers who have protected pilgrims down the ages, they performed a rather eccentric foot washing ceremony.
Mrs Roberto solemnly moved down a line of pilgrims arranged in a half circle of chairs. She poured water over our frankly putrid feet before kneeling to kiss our shins. I was on the point of warning about my athlete’s foot but kept quiet on account of not knowing the Italian for horrible fungal infection.
But the real “fun” was drinking in The Worst Bar In The World
It was just across a hot dusty road and the bar doubled as a petrol.station
All the local losers gravitated to this watering hole which seemed to be run by the senior petrol pump attendant. A youngish Italian dude clearly frustrated by the roll of the dice that life has dealt him.
His mate had one job to do. Waiting for the odd car to arrive. But he was drunk and when a driver made the horrible mistake of stopping and expecting a re fuelling. -. he just sat at the table looking sullenly at the customer before being bollocked by his boss.
And for some reason the boss appeared to be wearing underpants on his head.
A few local drunks turned up. Had arguments. Pushed each other.
Then two cops arrived. They pulled over a hapless motorist. Searched his car -.presumably, for drugs,and then let him continue on his way with a shrug of the shoulders and wave of the hands
A drunk with a face of a bruised pomegranate accosted one of the cops and pointed him towards the guy with the Y fronts,on his head
I have no idea what this local grievance was about but it resulted in Pomegranate face and Underpants Head having a massive row
All the time, the shaven headed cop who had the physical and indeed facial characteristics of a gorilla just stared them before shrugging his,shoulders,again and walking away.
Just another typical day on the road
I’ve reached Siena and learned today that it was a city built around the Via Francigena pilgrimage trail I’m following to Rome.
So if you thought Siena was about the Palio and the Palio only, you can think again.
Or maybe not. Because it’s impossible to come here and not be awed by the history of The Palio. Where riders race three times around the Piazza di Campo smashing each other with whips in a race that lasts all of 90 seconds.
“It is not a race, it is war,” a turtle told me.
The turtle being Nicholas, custodian of the Tartuca (turtle) museum which he kindly opened up for a personalised tour and two hour history lesson on Siena.
A teacher whose eyes burned with passion for this city, Nicholas explained how Siena is divided into 17 districts known as Cantrade – each named after an animal and dating back to medieval times.
Ten of the 17 race against each other for the Palio…a strip of embroided cloth that brings much honour for the winning contrade.
Nicholas showed me Palio won by the Turtles going back to the 17th Century
Ancient rivalries abound. The Turtles and the Snails hate each other. But everyone agrees that the Rhinos are good chaps who don’t annoy anyone.
You know you are in their contrade when the symbols on walls, houses and fountains change
He also showed the medieval costumes that they wear in the parades associated with the Palio. Right down to the wigs. In July. When it’s 35c +
I had reservations on grounds of animal welfare but was told the horses are specially bred for their sturdy legs and that they are retired with a city pension
“We love the horses more than the drivers” said Nicholas.
Each contrade has its own church and horses are brought inside to be blessed before the big event. Nicholas showed me their church tucked away in a back street
Last year one horse died in retirement at the age of 24.
But if you’re a jockey suspected of underhand behavior such as throwing a race then retribution is swift. And often violent.
Tomorrow I’ll resume the trek. The Via Francigena brought wealth to Siena which is why it’s called a Daughter of the Road.
Pilgrims would be given letters of credit, providing they left their money behind in the city. If they failed to return from Rome the city kept their cash. It’s how the first banks were built.
Screwing the poor out of their cash. I’m glad times have changed.
Ramblings of a Walker 