Oradour sur Glane

On a day that was as close to perfection as one could hope for, we visited the ruins of Oradour sur Glane, a testament to man's absolute imperfection. It is a stark reminder of the effects of fanatacism, intolerance and cruelty.
On June 10 1944, a German SS Division entered the small village of Oradour sur Glane and rounded up all the inhabitants. After they were assembled at the Fairground for an 'identity check' they were then split into groups. The women and children were taken to the church and the men taken to barns in various parts of the village. The troops then barred the doors and set fire to all the buildings. Those not asphyxiated or burned to death were killed by machine gun fire. There were 642 victims and 6 survivors. It has never really been established why this innocent village was chosen for such a terrible atrocity. When General De Gaulle went to Oradour he decided that the burnt out village would remain as a war memorial so that future generations would not forget the past. A new town has been built alongside the old one.

So today Marie-Helene, Christian, Chloe and I drove to the Limousin area and to Oradour sur Glane. Most French people I have spoken to about the place have said, "Oh no, you don't want to go there." But of course, I did want to go there and I was so grateful to the Martins for taking me. Today it was 30 degrees, there wasn't a breath of wind or a cloud in the sky. Hard to imagine anything bad happening anywhere. It was a bit like the JFK museum in Dallas - there were quite a lot of people there, but everyone walked round in a respectful silence. It was very, very quiet. In fact there was a quiet dignity about the place, I thought, and in the shop there were only books and postcards. Not a magnet, teatowel or teeshirt to be seen.
I lost the others who were listening to a talk in the church, and it was actually quite good walking round by myself.
The village seemed on a larger scale than I had imagined - I don't know why. Perhaps I had only expected to see a handful of buildings, but certainly there were quite a few - it was a real village after all, and not a replica.
It was all very moving, but I think I was especially touched by the school for girls, and by the Post and Telegraph Office. Dad was working in the Post Office when he signed up to go to war, and in fact he came back and continued working there until he retired. Others weren't so lucky.

I wonder what it is that drives people to commit crimes of this magnitude? Because it certainly was a crime - this wasn't part of the war! The youngest person massacred was a 1 week old baby!
Photos were allowed to be taken if for personal, rather then commercial use. So I won't put them on Facebook, as it somehow doesn't seem private enough, but will just post a few here for my blog family.

I have drawn on 'Oradour sur Glane, The Tragedy,' by Robert Hebras, for information. He was one of the survivors and gives an hour by hour account of what happened.
From what I know, and it isn't a lot, things were messy for France in WWII. Whilst everyone claims to have had a relative in the Resistance there were in fact many collaborators. France was occupied by the enemy for the most part. There is a lot of discomfort and guilt still felt I suspect, and I think that it has shaped the country into the fiercely independent place it is today. I could be way off the mark here, so correct me if I'm wrong!
Anyway, that's a snapshot of some WWII history. Oradour sur Glane.