Mayor for a dayBy John Ford, Chairman, The Lee Parish Council
In common with many interesting things in life it all began with a call from Mike Senior. Although being a relative newcomer to the village I had become aware through his research and excellent book of the story of Fromelles, the Bucks Territorials, and the moving story of Emily’s seat.
This approach however put me in a position where I didn’t feel worthy: to represent the village at the official commemoration of a Commonwealth cemetery, indeed the first for 50 or so years. This is not what the Chair of the Parish Council does. As we all know it is really a sinecure position with some vague responsibility for the allotments. It doesn’t involve diplomatic visits to France. But the Mayor of Fromelles had asked that the “Mayor of The Lee” be invited and given we do not yet have such a position I suppose that I was the next best thing.
As it turned out it was an honour, a very moving experience and one that I will always remember.
So what were my impressions?That this must be an event of some significance given the number of distinguished Australian military personnel in our hotel in Lille and the notice that the “Ambassade Australienne” was in residence there.
The charm and hospitality of the Mayor of Fromelles, M. Huchette and his staff, even as we gate-crashed his drinks party and presented him with a copy of Mike’s book (apparently he has several.) We talked about twinning. They are a similar size to The Lee, with many similar institutions but with no Flower Show as far as I could tell.
The striking topography of the battlefield, the position of the church tower as vantage point, the vulnerable openness of the attack, the still- impregnable-looking reinforced concrete German positions. Whose idea was this attack?
The quiet and stillness of the cemeteries including the German one, with its sombre grey marble crosses and its Stars of David, the tender ages of the fallen and the overpowering sense of waste.
And then the ceremony itself, sitting in sweltering heat, where the Prince of Wales made the best speech, trying to evoke what it was like to be there.
It is difficult to describe how the dignity of the ceremony, honed for many years for too many wars and too many fallen, is polished to perfection. How the timing of the bowing of a head or the inversion of a gun barrel can move you to tears.
One final thing struck me at the reception afterwards. I met a young Australian
officer, about 21, in ceremonial dress with bushwhacker and polished brass.
He had been contacted by a distant and obscure relative about an even more
distant dead and obscure relative in a mass grave in France. He was also on
holiday with his newly-acquired French girlfriend meeting the prospective
in-laws. For me it summed up how similar in age and background he was to the
recently re-interred but also how the wonder of modern science and research
had helped the whole event to come about.On a very personal note I was also able to pay my respects to a distant relative, Pte Patrick Toohey of the East Lancs. Regiment. As a child I heard quite a bit about him. An Irish professional “Soldier of The Empire” and veteran of the Boer War, Patrick went missing in May 1915. He had told my grandfather that they hadn’t yet made a bullet that would kill him. He is commemorated on the Menin Gate at Ypres, a short drive from Fromelles.
So thanks Mike for the message and the invitation. I was very privileged to be Mayor for a day.