3rd October

Today was much cooler, still a balmy 23 degrees, but more cloud cover and a breeze. Our trip today was to the village of Domme in Dordogne valley. Domme is a medieval village perched on a hill overlooking the valley and the river. It is a fortified town built around 1281 and has been labelled the ‘most beautiful village in France’. Many of the fortifications , such as the ramparts and entry gates are still standing. The scooter made it so easy to visit and being October, there were a handful of tourists, rather than thousands wandering through the cobbled streets. There are advantages to visiting this time of year, but the downsides are not so many bars or restaurants open and some attractions have already closed for the season or have more restricted opening times. We had hoped to visit the cave, which is apparently very impressive but they didn’t open again ‘til 2.30 pm and we had places to go!

Whilst we were wandering the streets we bumped into an English lady who lives part of the year in Domme with her wire-haired Vizsla, Luna. She recommended a visit to Chateau des Milandes, once owned by famous American singer and actress, Josephine Baker.

The chateau was built in 1489 by the Caumont family but abandoned after the French Revolution, but it had been falling into disrepair since the 1650’s. After passing through various descendants and new owners who primarily wanted the land and not the Chateau, it was bought by a French industrialist in 1900 and restoration and extension works were carried out till 1914. In 1937 Josephine Baker rented the chateau and after the war bought it, but by 1968, she was in debt and the chateau was sold. Today further restoration of the chateau has been undertaken and the tour concentrated on Josephine’s life at the Chateau and her stage career. There is an exhibition of her gowns and costumes. You are not allowed to take photos inside so just some outside shots.

Today was an historic day, as Charlie got to ride pillion whilst I piloted the Vespa! Last time this happened was in Jersey some 36-37 years ago. Reader…he survived!

Rain threatened all day but never really materialised! Heading north tomorrow towards the Loire, so a night near to Tours is the plan, but we will head for the sun if we can.

26th September to 2 October

We have just spent 5 wonderful days with our friends, Greg and Anita, who have just moved to the most gorgeous house, only an hour’s drive from Toulouse. It is set in the midst of the countryside with the most amazing views with the Pyrenees as the backdrop. Chris and Fiona, our other great friends, were also with us, having flown in from Tunbridge Wells.

We had the most relaxing time, late mornings, meanders into the local villages to wander through quaint streets, buying more charcuterie and cheese than you can imagine 6 people could eat… We ate out and had the most delicious food, in the unlikeliest places. We walked in the mountains at what will be Greg and Anita’s nearest ski resort and again lunch was delicious.

The weather was amazing and most afternoons and early evenings were spent lazing in the shade or by the pool, usually accompanied by a fair quantity of Rosé.

The week came to an end all too soon and it was time to say goodbye to Chris and Fiona, so we all went to Toulouse for lunch, and then we spent a final night with Anita and Greg.

Our next stop, after saying our farewells, was the Dordogne and La Roque-Gageac. It was a 3 hour drive, with the last hour up twisty, winding roads. The scenery had changed as we approached a dramatic rocky landscape with Dordogne winding its way just under the cliffs. We took a chance on a campsite, just 2 minutes from the village on the riverside. Our pitch was next to the river.

We unloaded the scooter and drove along to the village, parked up and explored the couple of streets that nestled directly under the cliffs. It was a baking 30+ degrees, and climbing up was hot work. We decided against the 7 Euros each, to go higher to explore the old fort, it was a step too far…

On our return to the campsite, we went for a swim in the river. The current was really strong, and as the water was only waist deep, you swam downstream but then walked through the water upstream, if you tried swimming you just went backwards!

After a BBQ, we retired to the motorhome as although it is hot, it is dark by 8 pm and it can get very midgy. We are in this area for one more night before we really start heading for home.

Moving on… 23rd-25th September

The weather has finally settled so we have spent 2 days relaxing on the beach, our last day in Cavaliere was perfect… only marred by an influx of jellyfish 🪼🪼🪼🪼

The sun shone, the sea was calm and clear but with hundreds of little jellyfish also chillin’ in the sea. We went in for one swim, but it was a short one when I realised how many of the little critters there were. I was stung badly in Spain many years ago, when I got caught in a swarm of them and was stung across my legs and stomach. Very painful and the welts from the tentacles took a couple of months to fade.

As the extent of the jellyfish became more apparent, no one was swimming but all the kids on the beach were having great fun dragging those that were stranded in the shallows onto the beach with sticks and nets. One woman was collecting them in a plastic ice bucket that you get at a beach bar!

On return to our campsite we had a new neighbour, a couple who were travelling with their SIX greyhounds in their campervan!

There was also a flea market taking place in the car park, where I bought a linen tablecloth as a present for a friend.

It was time to move on, so we packed up, emptied out the toilet and grey water, filled up with fresh water. First stop was just down the road at the vineyard we had passed by earlier in the week, Château de Brégançon.

Our ultimate stop was Fontaine-de-Vaucluse, the source of the River Sorgue. The village is squeezed into the narrow end of a valley where the deep and mysterious spring is located. Apparently Jacques Cousteau sent a submersible down to find the bottom, with no luck, later a probe got down to 308 metres but the spring goes deeper. Apparently all the rainwater from the Luberon and surrounding mountains come out of this one Spring.

On arrival we parked in the local motorhome Aire which was just 1/2 km to the village. As the sun was beginning to set, we walked up through the village to the famous spring. Luckily we made the walk once the souvenir and gift shops that line part of the route were closed.

The spring however was a little disappointing, I think you need to go in the Spring or Autumn after heavy rain. The viewing point meant that we couldn’t really see anything so ignoring the ‘danger – falling rocks’ sign, we climbed through the fence and climbed down so we could see the actual pool. As you can see, a little underwhelming….

We made our way back down the village for dinner at Le Chateau Olive et Raisin admiring the views which are more impressive than the spring at the end of Summer.

Dinner was amazing and in a beautiful setting…

The next morning we climbed up to the ruined fort above the town. Apparently it was a steep walk with a marked path, however after the first sign, it was every man for himself, the path petered out and it became a scramble/climb up to the ruins. However the views were spectacular and we picked up a hiking trail which took us back down to the village back through the forest and into the valley through the vineyards.

Our next stop was Avignon via the village of Chateauneuf-du-Pape, where we stopped in the vineyards for a picnic lunch.

Our camp site was just over the river from the old town and just 5 minutes walk from our pitch was a free ferry crossing. We visited the Papal Palace, which was ok, made more interesting by the interactive iPad that was your guide and explored the old town.

On Tuesday 26th September, we left Avignon to make our way towards Toulouse, where we were picking up a friend from the airport and then driving to another friends’ who had recently moved to France. Before the airport we made our way to La Palme, just along the coast from Perpignan for another picnic lunch. We drove directly onto the beach, which was frequented by kite buggy enthusiasts.

We now have 5 days staying with our friends, Greg and Anita who have recently moved to France, with our friends Chris and Fiona. A beautiful view and a stunning house.

Road Tripping 16-19 September

We had a decision to make, do we blast down the toll roads or take the slow road?

There is no grand plan for this tour apart from visiting friends who have recently moved to France in the last week of September. We have had a busy Summer and are looking forward to a relaxing break with a little less driving and more enjoying the sunshine, which has been a little absent from the UK this year.

Having got a late tunnel crossing on Saturday afternoon, we blasted down the toll road to just outside of Reims, champagne-central. Our aim was to get to our overnight stop before it got too dark. Charlie had found a car park in the middle of a forest, located above Verzy and its many vineyards.

We drove up through the vineyards as the sun was setting, harvest is in full swing and the tractors loaded with crates of grapes were all heading back to their respective winery for the night. Apparently the grapes have to go through triage before they make it into the presses. They are picked over so any unripe, damaged or diseased fruit can be discarded.

I thought to myself, I will take a picture when the light is better and the pickers are harvesting, when we drive by the next morning.

We found the car park at the top of a hill, in the middle of a dense forest criss-crossed with walking and biking trails. The car park was huge and only one other camper, which was a big, converted lorry.

Before darkness really descended, we went for a quick walk but to be honest it was a dull forest. Very dense with no vistas, we expected to hear or see some kind of wildlife, but not a squeak, a rustle or a hoot.

We wanted to get away early the next morning so as we drove down the hill and the forest thinned, I was camera ready for a great picture of rolling vineyards busy with activity, but instead the valley was filled with fog! Not an atmospheric September, hop picking morning mist wrapping itself gently through the valley like a lace throw, but a can’t see your hand in front of your face, wrapped in thick blanket of fog!

So here’s a Google snapshot of where we stayed instead!

No tolls today, and as the fog cleared, vineyards had been replaced by rows and rows of apple trees covered in anti-bird netting. Rural France on a Sunday morning is deserted, not a soul out and about, no one jogging, dog walking, walking to shops to get the newspapers or even a croissant. We passed through village after village that were like ghost towns, shutters closed on all the houses, then, there was life.

On entering the town of Joinville, cars were parked at the side of the road and people were heading towards a chateau at the edge of town. I jumped out to take a photo whilst Charlie circled round to pick me up.

Chateau du Jardin was a maison de plaisance for the Duke and Duchess of Guise. The chateau was built purely as a space for entertaining and had no living spaces, only a grand banqueting hall, private rooms for entertaining honoured guests, kitchens and a wine cellar. The beautiful formal gardens were restored in the 1990’s and as you can see from the photo are beautiful.

As we had had no breakfast, we decided Joinville was an ideal lunch spot. The motorhome, now with a trailer, does not lend itself to squeezing into a parking space. On the other side of town we found a riverside car park with space for us. Most French towns provide parking and overnight stops for camper vans and motorhomes. We wandered back into the town centre along the River Marne and managed to get the last table at the only restaurant open in town, (unless you wanted a pizza).

After lunch, we headed for our next stop, Besançon, an ancient city on the banks of the Doubs. We took a chance on getting a place on a campsite which was just 10 mins outside of the city and we were lucky. As we now have additional transport, in the form of a very snazzy, if I say so myself, Vespa Primavera Vibe, we decided to take a spin into the city.

The city centre is restricted to pedestrians and cycles only and although we had a couple of hairy moments navigating the complicated one-way system and which vehicles were allowed in which street, my last minute spot of a Sauf Pompiers sign, saved us a heap of trouble!

We parked up and wandered through the busy streets and found a brasserie slightly off the beaten track, in a pretty square and just had a drink and a very indulgent ice cream.

Getting out of the city was just as interesting as getting in, and I was tasked with back seat navigation, never a task that ends in marital harmony, but after a couple of terse moments, mainly due to the phone not quite updating route guidance quick enough, we made it back to camp, without any major incidents.

Interestingly, a couple of facts I found out after our visit, Besançon was the site of a Nazi internment camp for British passport holders. Between 1940-41, 3-4000 mainly women and children were held in dire conditions and many died of pneumonia, dysentery, food poisoning and frostbite. Besançon was also where around 100 members of the French Resistance were executed over a period of 4 years.

Monday started fine but the further south we headed, the sky darkened and it looked very ominous. We stopped at a roadside restaurant for a quick lunch of chicken, mine with salad, his with chips.

In the afternoon, more by luck than judgement, we were always driving just behind a storm, thunder and lighting raged for a couple of hours and although it rained, it wasn’t torrential. We were obviously chasing the tail of the storm and were always on the edge of it rather than in the worst of it.

We arrived in Laragne-Montéglin, just before 7 pm with plans to stay in the large municipal ‘camping-car’ aire in the middle of the town. As we neared the town, there were posters up everywhere advertising that the Fair was in the town for a week. On arriving we found that the municipal aire was closed to the public as the fairground people were camped there. Just a few minutes away, there was a normal campsite but its reception was only open until 7 pm, which had just passed. We pulled in to find another van in front of us, its occupants chatting to the site manager. I hopped out and a very stressed manager said the site couldn’t allow anyone on the grass pitches as they were waterlogged but we could pull up in the car park area for the night and he hoped we were self-sufficient as the facilities weren’t that clean as most of the site was taken over by army-style tents housing itinerant workers. These workers were working picking grapes and fruit.

Luckily we had something to eat at lunchtime, as by now, we were too tired to find anywhere to eat, so we had a ‘picky tea’. Outside the storm still raged but now behind us and although we could still hear thunder, it had stopped raining and the sunset was spectacular.

Our last day of travelling for a few days, to the Côte d’Azur … finally sun, sea, sand and lazy days beckon!

We left stormy skies and low temperatures and as we neared the coast the sun shone, the air was warmer, we passed harvested lavender fields and stopped at a roadside stall to buy melon, figs, tomatoes and fresh apricot juice. The air smelt of the Mediterranean, thyme, lavender, jasmine and mimosa, it smelt of warm seas, and hot sand.

We arrived at our beachside camp, late in the afternoon. We had stayed at this basic campsite 2 years previously. It is basically a car park that offers electric hook up, water and waste facilities but the beach is just across the road. You can hear the sea from your bed and there are several restaurants and a good shop and bakery on the doorstep. By half 4, we were on the beach in time for a swim in the relatively choppy sea and to catch the last of the sun. The wind was getting up and the site manager came round to tell everyone to tie awnings down or take them in as strong winds and torrential rain were expected overnight and into Wednesday…

Are we doomed to relive the British Summer on the French Riviera … !

79th Anniversary – D-Day Landings

5th June

We’ve headed to Normandy to experience what is now called the D-Day Festival for a few days. We are pitched at a very lovely campsite just across from the Utah landing sector and site is full of military re-enactors and their vehicles. We arrived late in the afternoon in the sunshine that was accompanied by the same fierce wind with a real chill to it that we’ve experienced at home over the past couple of weeks. There was haze in the air were sand and dust were swirling around. Sitting lee side of the motorhome was lovely but out in the open, it was cutting.

We were delighted that as we were setting up, we heard a distinct sound of heavy aircraft, we looked up but couldn’t see anything, our mistake was to look up! Flying at around 300 ft along the coast and directly overhead our pitch, lumbered 4 x 4 engine turbo prop, heavy aircraft, similar to the Dakota/C47!

As part of the Festival, there were meant to be a number of parachute drops, but due to the winds, I don’t think any have taken place, so the planes are doing fly pasts up and down the coastline, whichis very exciting.

The next best thing about this campsite is that we are parked next to goats! The site has little farm and our pitch overlooks the goats paddock and I love goats.

The campsite has pitches for tents and motorhomes, but also static chalets, some of which are Western-themed that come complete with your own horse!

On 6th June, long after the first parachute drop and the first landing craft had hit the beaches in 1944, we had finally woken up to a very chilly, (13 degrees) grey and breezy day. By the time Charlie took a work Zoom call and we had organised ourselves, we didn’t leave the campsite until 11 ish. But we needn’t have worried as there was plenty to see above us.

We had only cycled for few mins along the coast road when we saw the planes coming straight towards us, very low, it was thrilling!

From our campsite we cycled around 10k into Sainte Mere Eglise. Sainte Mere Eglise was at an important crossroads in the fight to control road and rail links to Cherbourg. The paratroopers of the 82nd Airborne who were parachuted behind enemy lines during the early hours of 6th June in order to take Sainte Mere. However, the paratroopers’ drops did not go to plan. Many landed in the marshes that had been deliberately flooded by the Germans, either drowning or were bogged down. Many were scattered across the Normandy countryside and had to regroup and/make their way across hostile country to their targets.

In Sainte Mere, a house in the centre of town caught fire in early hours, the townspeople were allowed to assist in putting out the fire under the eyes of the German soldiers stationed in the town. Mistakenly the paratroopers were dropped right above the town and as they drifted into view were either shot or captured by the Germans, one paratrooper drooped straight into the fire whilst another, John Steele, onto the church tower where his parachute became entangled and he ended up hanging precariously above the town. Although he played dead for a couple of hours he was eventually cutdown and taken prisoner but later escaped. The town is eventually taken by the Americans by 6 am. Today an effigy complete with parachute hangs from the church tower as a reminder of that night.

We arrived just as a parade of American tanks and military vehicles accompanied by members of the ‘local Resistance and the town’s Priest’ make their way around the square. The town is full of military reenactors from around Europe plus serving British, American & French serving military who are taking part in the Commemorations.

The next day we decided to use the motorhome as again the weather wasn’t kind and we could cover more ground. Our first stop was the Utah Beach Museum and Monuments. Utah Beach had the lightest casualties of the landings, with 300 men killed or wounded out of the 22,000 troops that landed on D-Day. Compared to Omaha where nearly 3,000 were killed or wounded.

The Utah Beach Museum is well worth a visit. There is an authentic B52 Marauder ‘Dinah Might’ on display plus other static vehicles both in and outside the museum. Don’t miss the film ‘Victory’ Beach’.

After the museum we made a way just a short way along the causeway leading from Utah Beach inland to the Major Richard (Dick) Winters Memorial.

I am a huge ‘Band of Brothers’ fan having first read the book by Stephen Ambrose and then mini-series. Damien Lewis playing Dick Winters became my on-screen heart throb! Dick Winters fought across Europe from Utah Beach to finally taking Hitler’s Alpine retreat at Berchtesgaden, just 3 days before the end of the war in Europe. Dick Winters died in 2011 aged 93.

At the Memorial we met a group of ex-Royal Marines who were on a motorbike tour of the Normandy Battlefields. Just down the road, is the Memorial to Easy ‘E’ Company of the 101st Airborne which Winters led. On 6th June Dick Winters and a team of 12 men destroyed a German Artillery Battery which had been firing on forces exiting Utah Beach. In one of the gun positions a German map containing all artillery and machine gun positions in the Cotentin Peninsula area was discovered. This information was passed up the chain of command.

We then had quick stop in Carentan, where the 101st Airborne battled with the Germans between 10-12 June for control of the town. From Carentan we made our way to the small town of Angoville. Here 2 medics from the 101st set up an aid station in the Church, just 3 miles from the beach on D-Day. The areas was the scene of intense fighting and the medics commandeered a farm cart to collect the wounded from the surrounding fields, the Germans seeing they were also taking wounded Germans, gave them free passage and began taking their wounded to the Church under a ‘No Guns’ rule. A German sniper who had been hiding in the Church belfry, came down and helped the medics. The injured sat or lay on the pews, where more serious cases were laid around the Communion Table which was used to operate on and the dead behind the Church or in the sacristy. Today those same pews are in the Church still stained with the blood of the injured soldiers.

The Church suffered some war damage, when an American tank accidentally blew the front doors off and a mortar crashed through the roof but luckily did not explode. The Church, as with the Church in Sante Mere Eglise replaced its shattered stained glass windows with those commemorating their Liberation.

As we had been driving down the lanes of Normandy we had come across a variety of vintage WWII vehicles driven by appropriately dressed re-enactors. It was quite surreal to come across a jeep of American ‘soldiers’ down a tiny lane, it was the closest thing to time travel that we would ever experience. I have displayed the photos in black and white as they are more atmospheric.

So ended our visit to the American Sector and we are making plans to return next year for the 80th Anniversary, making a return visit to the British and Canadian beaches.

Le Mans is now in our sights…

In search of a hero…

A weekend in Northern France following the final story of Captain Patrick Garstin. Why?

Capt. Garstin is a distant relative of the de Garstons, Charlie’s 4th cousin, twice removed to be precise and the recently published book ‘SAS Band of Brothers’ by Damien Lewis, brought Patrick’s remarkable story to our attention. Also, our son has a fascination with World War II history and is a member of the ‘Monty’s Men’ living history group.

Garstin to de Garston?

Garstin was the name all my husband’s ancestors carried until 1864. Charlie’s Great x 3 Grandfather was born in Ceylon, now Sri Lanka. The family were Irish of English extraction. The first recorded Garstin, was Capt. Symon Garstin, likely a Protestant Englishman, who may have been part of Cromwell’s forces that re conquered Ireland around 1650. The Garstin sons were either clergy in the Church of Ireland or in the Armed Forces. Rev. Norman Garstin, was Chaplain to Duke of Richmond when he was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland from 1807. In 1821 the Rev Norman became 2nd Colonial Chaplain in Ceylon, where his 3rd son, Norman was born.

Norman followed in his father’s footsteps and became Colonial Chaplain in Ceylon. He married Marianne Wilson in Bath, returned to Ceylon where they had 3 of their 4 children. Around 1852 the family returned to Europe, living first in France and then in the Channel Islands where there had their 4th child. By 1864 family life had gone horribly wrong, with the Rev Norman being filed for divorce by Marianne on the account of his adultery. The case was probably scandalous, the Reverend, a laundress and a claim of kidnap, as the Rev would not hand over custody of the youngest child. After the divorce, Marianne emigrated to the US with her children and the Rev Norman placed an ad in The Times, declaring he would be now known as de Garston, returning to the ancient family name. He then returned to France, married Mary Lockley (not the laundress) and had 2 further children, one of which was Charlie’s Great, Great Grandfather. The Rev Norman died in Lille in 1877. So that’s how Garstin became de Garston.

Our hero’s story…

So back to our search for a hero. Patrick Garstin enlisted in the Royal Ulster Rifles in 1939 and was awarded the Military Cross in 1940 for action at the Battle of Louvain and was injured in rear guard action at Dunkirk. By Christmas 1940 he was in East Africa with the Northern Rhodesia regiment and was repatriated to the U.K. for medical reasons. He then volunteered for airborne operations after receiving Parachutist’s Wings and by 1943 was serving with the Long Range Desert Group in Tunisia and Algeria but again ongoing medical problems meant he was returned to England. The medical problems were due to wounds suffered at Dunkirk and acute appendicitis. On this basis he was due to be discharged on medical grounds but managed to avoid this and volunteered for the 1st Special Air Service Regiment, Army Air Corps, ‘D’ Squadron headed up by Lieutenant Colonel ‘Paddy’ Mayne. Part of ‘Paddy’ Mayne’s story is currently being dramatised in the BBC series, SAS – Rogue Heroes.

Garstin and his ‘stick’ (patrol) were parachuted into France to disrupt and cause general chaos whilst the Allies landed on the D-Day beaches. Their exploits should be legendary, blowing up trains, ammo dumps, airfields and making one of the most daring escapes in history, however on their final mission, they were betrayed. Captured and taken to Paris where they were tortured by the Gestapo, they were then driven to Noailles near Beauvais. From there into the forest where they faced execution on Hitler’s own orders. Garstin was barely able to walk due to bullet wounds sustained during their capture, and the subsequent torture, but told those fit enough to make a run for it on his shout. As the firing squad prepared to open fire, Garstin shouted ‘Now’ and those that could ran for it. Miraculously 2 men escaped, managed to make it back to England and set in train one of the most extraordinary Nazi-hunting operations. If you want to find out more, then please read Damien Lewis’ book, ‘SAS – Band of Brothers, The last stand of the SAS and their hunt for the Nazi killers.’

So that brings us to the present day and our journey to Capt Patrick’s final resting place at the military cemetery in Beauvais, finding the memorial at the edge of the forest where the murder took place and the Chateau where they were held just before their murder.

The military cemetery in Beauvais was our first stop, where we located the graves of Garstin and his ‘stick. After a few moments of silent contemplation we placed a poppy on the grave and then left to find the woods where the patrol faced the firing squad and the memorial.

Where we found ourselves in the firing line…

The day had started in thick fog and as the afternoon progressed, the sun broke through intermittently, meaning the fog was patchy. One minute driving in warm sunshine, the next in foggy gloom. This all added to the sombre atmosphere. From the book and other sources, we located the woods and decided to walk through them to get a sense of the history and find the memorial but the wood was surrounded by temporary signs ‘CHASSE EN COURS’ – Hunt in progress ….

We stopped in a small hamlet, were we accosted an elderly woman and explained that we were looking for the memorial to the SAS men murdered by the Gestapo, she directed us to the Mayor’s house. Here we spoke with the Mayor’s elderly wife, via my very broken French and Google translate we learnt the Mayor was out but would be back later if we wanted to return. The hamlet had a track that led to the wood and as there were no ‘chasse’ signs, found a track and walked along the edge of a large field skirting the woods. We could hear gunfire way over to our left, so we carried on and a few moments later there was crashing of branches and I saw the white tail of a deer skipping out of sight.

The wood was crisscrossed with wide tracks, and our track led straight into the wood, where just a few meters in, we came across the chasseurs. Each on his stand, dressed in bright orange to stand out in the green wood. Luckily Charlie and Oliver were wearing bright clothes, I was wearing my Barbour. Oliver approached one of the huntsman, who didn’t speak any English, but who directed Oliver to a man further along the line. The hunter spoke a little English and again with the help of Google translate, Oliver ascertained that he didn’t know where the memorial was but we were in a very dangerous place and should go back the way we came, as there were hunters spread throughout the wood line, waiting for the deer to come through. Apart from some distant shots and sounding of a horn, we didn’t see any more hunters or deer until we were back at our motorhome.

We decided to drive around the lanes that encircled and crossed the wood and look for the Chateau where the men were held before their last journey. As we popped in and out of the fog, 3 hunters stood out in the murk. They were returning to their cars parked at a large junction and there just behind them I caught a glimpse of a memorial stone, set back from the crossroads, at the edge of the wood. We had found the memorial. The memorial had 3 tributes laid at it. A poppy wreath left in October by a relative of one of those remembered, and 2 floral tributes laid by local veteran associations. After laying a single poppy and a few moments contemplation, the fog descended again and we set off again to find the Chateau. Oliver marked the location of the memorial on Google maps, so if you would like to visit, then type Sabu-70 Memorial into Google map search and the location is marked.

The chateau was a Luftwaffe HQ and it was here that Garstin’s patrol was held before their drive to the woods to face their execution.

Reflection – where our story ends…

Captain Patrick Garstin was 25, Sergeant Varey was 30, Private Barker was 21, Private Walker was 22 and Private Young was 23. Corporal Vaculik and Corporal Jones escaped the execution and got back to England. Trooper Castelo escaped capture at their last drop and fought with the Resistance until the end of the war. Lieutenant Wiehe was shot in the spine on capture and was kept in the hospital in Paris post interrogation until liberation. He was only saved from transfer to Beauvais by nurses who hid him. Corporal Lutton was shot and killed on the final drop into France. Troopers Morrison and Norman landed outside the drop zone, escaped capture and made it back to Allied lines.

Please read Damien Lewis’ book if you would like to find out how justice was fought for and found for these men.

We will be on the road at 11 am on Sunday but we will remember them.