Near Thiepval, France, visitors see looming up before them the largest British military monument in the world. It is dedicated to “The Missing of the Somme,” those who died in the most disastrous battle of what used to be called The Great War. On a single day, November 16, 1916, some 60 thousand British soldiers were killed or wounded in frontal attacks on entrenched German positions and gained no significant territory from them.

“Their Name Liveth For Evermore” says the inscription on the towering memorial to the lost battalions who went over the top in what quickly became a hopeless assault against defenders using artillery and machine guns to mow them down. However, the names of some were in fact lost, along with their bodies.

Some people continue to commemorate those who lost their lives. A red wreath from Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception Church in Liverpool, recently laid at the tall monument, says: “The Parish remembers (12 names are listed) who gave their lives for their country in the Great War 1914 – 18, and are commemorated among the missing of Thiepval.”

For me, a tourist born ten years after that war ended, the horror and waste of it all dominates my feelings. Why did the countries of Europe ever allow themselves to enter a conflict of such monumental foolishness? How could they tolerate millions of their young men being cut down in such a dubious cause?

In expressing such sentiments I am, of course, echoing the feelings of the British war poets such as Wilfred Owen and Rupert Brooke. With bitter irony, Owen titled one of his poems “Dulce et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori” (It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country), calling the dictum “that ancient lie.” Visiting the battlefields of northeastern France, one relives the horror of the mass slaughters resulting from decisions by heads of government and their uninspired generals.

Now, almost 100 years later, the fields where savage battles were fought are now beautiful, lush with green. But one still sees the traces of trenches dug into the soil to provide cover for the troops. Of course, they were most often miserable living in them, plunged into mud and sometimes bitter cold and snow. The destruction of the environment accompanied the destruction of human life, as the ground was plundered by heavy artillery and machines.

At the same site, I saw a cemetery with row upon row of stone slabs and crosses. Some of them say “A Soldier of the Great War, Cheshire Regiment, Known Unto God.” Others carry only the single French word “Inconnu” (Unknown).

Michael, a friend who accompanied me on the battlefield visit, said of the experience: “I didn’t lose anybody here, but there’s something about it that stirs me very much.” Along with my own sadness about such waste I also felt stirred by the heroism of the men who gave their lives. Despite abiding cynicism about those who make war, I had to admire others who responded generously to their country’s call.

Often they were naïve young men who had no idea what awaited them after they signed up for military duty. They soon experienced at first hand the horrors of modern warfare. They must have been thoroughly bewildered to find themselves in such miserable conditions and ready to become cannon fodder along with so many others.

Hardly a man is now alive who fought in that war. The ranks of World War I veterans have declined to a precious few. They have to have reached age 100, at the very least, to remember at first hand combat in the fields of Europe in that era. But they are better positioned than we to appreciate the current unity among nations which fought one another so bitterly then.

A stone tablet set in the pavement outside the great medieval cathedral of Rheims remains fixed in my memory from this recent visit to France. It commemorates the day in 1964 when Charles de Gaulle, president of France, came together with Konrad Adenauer, chancellor of West Germany, at a Mass and celebrated lasting peace between their countries. That peace has been ratified by many events in succeeding years – – the European community, free trade, the Euro – – and has in fact brought a spirit of unity unprecedented in history.

The new Europe thus puts World War I into a different context. The Great War stands as a horrifying example of what can happen when peace breaks down. Because it led to the even greater catastrophe of World War II it has affected the lives of all of us who experienced this latter conflict. Seeing the fields where the battle of the Somme was fought has solidified my own hatred of war and made me grateful for the now solid peace among the former warring nations of Europe.

Richard Griffin