But we know they were – we’ve seen the grainy photos. Apparently old villages dot the landscape – but few buildings are more than 100 years old.

The brilliant red poppies grow wild in the fields and along the roadways, linking the tiny, lonely, immaculately maintained cemeteries that lie scattered across this land.

We had caught the TGV from Paris Gare du Nord to Arras – the trip a rapid fifty minutes through the French countryside, with glowing canola fields and studded with clusters of immense wind-turbines turning gently in the breeze. With the GPS programmed, we set off in our little Renault hire car to explore the region.

Our destination was Morchies Military Cemetery, the lonely resting place of my great uncle, killed on Friday 4 May 1917, in the Battle recorded in history books as Second Bullecourt – just one of the battles on The Somme in the year that was the worst year ever in Australian history.

Arthur James Stephenson was born at Malmsbury in Victoria, but was farming at Bridgewater when he enlisted in August 1914 to fight for King and Country.

He served at Gallipoli, and after being wounded a couple of times, was hospitalised on Malta, before being sent on to Cairo, and, in February 1916, back home to Australia to recover.

How sweet it must have seemed to have escaped that hell hole, and to be back home with his family so far away from the anger and death.

But how awful it must have been when, recovered, he re- embarked for Europe in October 1916, now fully aware of how horrible war was.

None of his previous experiences though, could have prepared him for the Western Front and the Hindenburg Line.

Much of the tragedy of this place is captured in the wonderful Bullecourt 1917 – Musee Jean et Denise Letaille, named for the local man who spent much of his life collecting artifacts from the fields surrounding the area.

Along with the shells, guns, wire and refuse of war, are the personal mementos and photographs of the thousands of men who died here.

We’ll never know the final story behind the simple note in Arthur’s file – “Killed in Action” – nor how many witnessed his burial by Chaplain Bates at the tiny Cemetery where he lies.

Several graves around his are marked with the same date of death – you can trace the ebb and flow of battles in the vicinity by the clusters of graves with common dates.

In the immense scale of the tragedy of the “War to end all wars”, perhaps nothing is sadder than recognising the futility of much of the carnage. The Australian War Memorial says of the Battle of Second Bullecourt:

“Although the locality was of little or no strategic importance, the actions were nevertheless extremely costly: AIF casualties totalled 7,482 from three Australian Divisions.”

Not knowing when, if ever, family will pass his way again, we carried with us a small container of soil from the ground where his parents, grandparents and great grandparents are buried in Australia.

Scattered and mixed with the soil of his grave, he now lies forever in the soil of his homeland as well.

Robert Stephenson

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