After another sumptuous breakfast chez Bambury, we sourced some local wines to take home then set off late morning after saying our farewells to drive to Verdun - a more sobering prospect which would mark our final phase.
Verdun is where, starting on 21st February 1916, the German High Command aimed to bleed France dry by launching an overwhelmingly powerful thrust which the French would be unable to resist, which would break their will to continue the fight and would weaken the Allied effort in north where there was a stalemate across the trenches. On the first day of the bombardment, the Germans fired 2 million tons of ordnance over a 15 mile front in less than 12 hours. They believed that the subsequent advance by six infantry divisions would be a formality but amazingly, enough French soldiers had survived to limit the advance despite huge losses. The battle continued after the French had reorganised under a slogan of 'Ils ne passeront pas' well into June by which time the German resolve had weakened.
The approach to Verdun as a town was uninspiring with large prominent advertisements for the inevitable McDonalds joint appearing regularly then a succession of unattractive, modern store complexes on its outer limits. We didn't press on into the old town which may well have been better but went out to the north at the end of a long drive (made longer by M1 missing a crucial turn onto the correct motorway and found a municipal campsite on the river but next to a busy road at Bras sur Meuse. This was cheap but pretty poor but we were in no mood to find a better one. We dined on board cheaply but well from minimal stock - bread, ham, eggs and garlic! - while watching other campers parade in an assortment of unflattering clothes to and from the nearby ablutions block; no inspiring sights!
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