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15 October 2014
WW2 - People's War

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Contributed by听
Trooper Tom Canning - WW2 Site Helper
People in story:听
Tom Canning
Location of story:听
Central Italy
Background to story:听
Army
Article ID:听
A7536071
Contributed on:听
05 December 2005

In the world of Opera there is a term which covers a strange happening in the singing of an aria when it appears that the quality of the sound is enhanced through some medium which is unaccounted for in the practice of singing 鈥 particularly, this is called a 鈥渕oment鈥 鈥 a moment which cannot be accounted for in rational terms. When we think of the great Pavarotti singing the 鈥渁nthem of the Soccer World Cup - Nessum Dorma鈥 in his homeland of Italy 鈥 The scenes of Joan Sutherland in Lucia di Lammermoor 鈥 the Soprano part by Elisabeth Schwartzkopf at the reopening of the famous Festival Hall at Beyrueth in 1951 鈥 in Beethoven鈥檚 Choral of the Ninth symphony, and the unforgettable 鈥淐asta Diva鈥 of Monserrat Caballe in Bellini鈥檚 Norma, Or Beverley Sills as Anne Boleyn as she sang her farewell to life in the Tower the evening before her execution in Donizetti鈥檚 Anna Bolena.

We have probably all had 鈥渕oments鈥 in our lives but possibly one of the strangest I ever had was when we were waiting to move up to Montecassino for the push into the Liri Valley after the conclusion of the fourth battle in the middle of May 1944.

We were between Presenzano and Cassino and the noise to the north was indescribable in it鈥檚 ferocity as every gun on both sides seemed to be firing one after the other in rapid sucesssion 鈥 it was a nightmarish cacophany.

I was standing at the front of my tank in the early evening watching the firefly鈥檚 weave their patterns around in competition with the mosquito鈥檚, when suddenly an awesome silence descended and not one gun was firing. The silence on a battlefield is something very strange as not even a cricket would chirp when 鈥 suddenly a sound impressed itself on me 鈥. and the moment revealed itself as the song of a Nightingale !

I wonder if anyone else had that wonderful experience /

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Message 1 - One day in France

Posted on: 05 December 2005 by Reeser

Well Tom, being 鈥榗hronologically challenged鈥 I鈥檝e never (thank god) had to serve and face the grim possibility of having to make the ultimate sacrifice. But there was a point when as a teenager when I came a fraction closer to understanding what the generations before me had achieved.

Back in the 90s my mum and dad, and yours truly, went over to Calais to pick up cheap booze. I remember that the tunnel was still a great novelty. We arrived so fast that both my parents thought that we could make it down to the Arras region to visit my great grandfather鈥檚 grave, have a look at the area in which he died and then take a tour of the battlefield of Vimy. My ancestor was not buried in a vast cemetery 鈥 but there were enough rows of pristine white headstones to make you feel more than a little nervous when standing at the entrance. After paying my respects, driving through the Oppy/Gavrelle sector and feeling somewhat depressed by it all we reached Vimy.

Vimy was like a park almost and I was amazed at it. Children raced into and out of the preserved trenches; people's dogs, let off their leads, yapped about; and couples walked hand in hand, pointing out various features to one another. Trees surrounded the site, their branches swaying lazily in the wind. To put it simply Vimy has become a slice of country tranquility! It hit home to me what my great granddad and the millions of others like him, and the following generation who had fought an even darker menace, had secured in my future something so important that it is impossible really to define.

My sadness was replaced by pride. Since then I have tried to understand with greater depth, through reading and talking to veterans, why it is important not only to remember, but to also celebrate.

Well that鈥檚 my two-cent Trooper Tom!

Message 2 - One day in France

Posted on: 05 December 2005 by Trooper Tom Canning - WW2 Site Helper

Reeser - and why not - I strolled around the cemetery at Coriano Ridge last September feeling at peace with the world in such a beautiful area, so different to September of '44 which made it - somehow - worthwhile to see where my friends are laying at peace, with no problems of any sort to crease their brows. I was alone for a few hours then three vets turned up and we shared a few laughs - which was inevitable and by no means disrespectful - a story which our troop leader often regaled us with was when he was up at Oxford, he and a few friends would have a party at the Dorchester which invariably ended with them being kicked out into Park Lane for being too raucous - the memory of those days came flooding back. I was struck by the little note on the foot of his headstone from his parents - "In Proud Memory" Which was exactly how I felt !
cheers
tomcan

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