h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

We returned to the rest of the crew with the kind gifts of bread and milk from the farm girl to share the meal with the rest of crew. We were still on the beach but taking shelter in the sand and grass dunes. That afternoon two Royal marines arrived with a jeep to advise us that they belonged to a unit who had set up a Survivor's Camp near the village. We all piled into the jeep and were taken to this camp which was set up in a field near to the village of Arromanches. Immediately we were given a hot meal produced on a field kitchen. Having been without a proper meal for many days we devoured everything given to us. We were given a change of Khaki Battledress and the luxury of a hot shower. We were housed in a bell tent with folding beds and the following morning we were taken before the Base Commanding Officer, a Royal Marine Major. He looked at this sorry bunch before him and gave us his personal razor with blades to smarten ourselves.

Life at the camp seemed too good to be true. A Marine driver of a jeep told me to I was to go him to Bayeux to callect drinking water from a Military Depot. We loaded the jeep up with empty jerricans. We had been warned not to drink local water because might be contaminated. We arrived at the Bayeux Depot and loaded up a supply of full cans in replacement. The driver told me that we need not return immediately. He wanted to look around the town so we agreed to meet in one hour back at the Depot. I wanted to see the great Cathedral and made my way towards it. Bayeux was the first town of any size to be liberated by the Allies. It was liberated on 10th of June 1944. My visit was a week or two later and I was amazed that there was very little damage done to the buildings. As I approached the Cathedral it stood there undamaged and in all its glory.

I entered through a small door which was carved out of a huge oak door. That day was wonderful with the sun shining from a cloudless sky. As I stepped into the building the darkness and gloom wrapped itself around me. The were a few candles burning to break through the darkness. As I walked around there were a few solitary servicement walking around the Cathedral. Just inside where I stood was a crude stone block more than one metre square. On top of it was a box of matches beside an open tin of unused candles on this makeshift altar. There were some candles shining from the altar. As I looked around this naked building there was for me a feeling of holy stillness. It began to dawn on me that the place had been stripped of all furnishings. There was no high alter, no golden candlestick, no pews, no pulpit, no organ, no lectern, no pictures, no choir stalls, no images no finery. The stained glass windows had been boarded up and everything had been removed to a safe place during the Occupation.

In the silence I stood before the crude altar with my own thoughts and prayers when suddenly the small door half opened. In the Cathedral the blinding sunshine shone through to reaveal a young French boy who was silhouetted there for a moment. He came inside and closed the door behind him. He hesitated there at the threshhold, nervous like some wild animal about to run for its life. He was only a few feet from where I was standing and I estimated his age as ten years. He was dressed as a typical French schoolboy dressed blue short trousers and a blue shirt. He slowly moved towards me and I gave him a encouraging smile which seemed to relax him a little. He came and stood beside me at the stone, he took two or three coins from his pocket, placed them carefully in the tin and took a candle. Lighting the candle from the flame of another he placed it in position on the altar, put his hands together, closed his eyes and prayed. I stood there many minutes with him, then he made a movement, stood back, turned towards me with a smile, walked towards the door, turned once more, waved his hand as farewell and was gone. Except that he has not gone, at least from my mind. Down through the years he has caused me to ask questions without knowing any answers. Who was he? Had he come there that morning freely or had he been sent there on an errand? He he been sent there to pray for his family. for his parents, his brothers and sisters? Had his family been wiped out by the invasion? Was he an orphan without a home? Had he been sleeping rough and alone? So many questions, all without answers.

Fifty years afterwards I stood on the same spot and the questions all came flooding back. The old stone block had been removed and the candles were no longer there. The Cathedral was no longer in darkness but with bright new lighting with beautiful chandeliers. Stained Glass windows now letting in the glorious light. Music sounding from the organ, all the pews replaced, the pictures, the images, the high alter, the chatter of a thousand visitors, happily
celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of the liberation. I stood at that hallowed place of meeting, where once had been a crude stone alter, where once had been a holy stillness.