Part One

Recently I was lucky enough to have a wonderful vacation in Europe.

Starting with a lone flight to Scotland, where I spent a couple of weeks visiting with my cousin, then, flying to Prague where I met up with my husband Dave and two good friends from Oliver.

We were to spend a few days in Prague, then travel to Nuremberg, where we met up with our long ship for a cruise down the Main and then the Rhine Rivers, finishing up with three days in Paris.

Each day brought more wonderful things to see and experience but, because this week brings us Armistice Day, I would like to share my experience in Luxembourg.

Every day we had a different guide to take us on tours of that day’s city.  As most of the tour was in and around Germany, much emphasis was given to WW11.  To my mind a little too much emphasis, as these were beautiful cities and had other history to relate, before being involved in this war.  Palaces and cathedrals from the middle ages had so many stories woven into their stone walls, so why concentrate on WW11?

I was thinking of writing to the Viking company and expressing these thoughts as there is so much more to this area than the terrible time between 1938-1945.  The horrors of war should not be forgotten but, should it be the only thing we remember of Europe?

Born the year the war ended, I must admit that the effects of war didn’t colour my young life.  The events of those years should never be forgotten and, hopefully, man has learned something about how the fight for power can get completely out of hand, with so much misery caused to other human beings.  However, I do think it is time to move on and not keep rehashing the past.

One of our last stops was in Luxembourg, here we were to visit an American Cemetery, dedicated to those who lost their lives during the Battle of the Bulge.  I was frankly fed up of having the war thrust down our throats and had thoughts to stay on the bus.  However, I joined the group as we walked past several memorials and statues.

We then walked up a small grassy hill and then looked down on the crosses.  Over eleven thousand white crosses, marching across the grass in perfect symmetry.  It literally took my breath away, I really thought I would pass out.  The emotion I felt at looking at the thousands of simple crosses was overwhelming.  These men were all husbands, sons, brothers and daddies, all of them gone as they fought one battle.

Yes, I knew all about the war, it had been a big part of our history, but I had never thought of it in terms of real men until I saw those crosses.  All those men who never went home again.

This year when I wear my poppy, it will mean so much more to me.  I will not just give lip service when I stand at the Cenotaph with bowed head, I will be remembering those eleven thousand crosses and trying to remind myself that this was the result of just one battle.  How many more crosses are standing in Europe and other countries where men have died fighting for freedom and justice.

Why can’t our world leaders look at those crosses and ask themselves “IS IT WORTH IT?”  War will always be a threat as long as power hungry people are in charge and religious freedoms are challenged.

I know the sight of those crosses changed me forever, why can’t those in power experience such a revelation?  Until they do, there will never be “peace in our time”.