Some historians call the Battle of Verdun a ‘meat-grinder’: healthy men were pushed into the fray only to be masticated and torn asunder by the war’s hungry machine. In this open-air memorial, life finds a way. A single small, pink flower grew amid it all. I could feel my heart beating in my chest as I peered down at the amalgamation of metal, moss and pine needles on the bunker. It was a small, rusted part of an exploded shell. Moizan picked up a stone and handed it to me. Small stones and pine needles were scattered over the moss that blanketed the structure. We were standing on top of the ruins of a bunker. “Be careful,” warned our guide, historian Guillaume Moizan, pointing towards twisted cords of rusted metal that thrust from the ground like roots. Suddenly, the path ended and we reached a small clearing. Today, old cement posts still line some portions of the route, which is at constant threat of being engulfed by the forest. Once, soldiers skittered back and forth along the path carrying messages between bunkers. The path we were walking along was an old communications trench. Yet while these sites deserve attention, it wasn’t until I walked through the trenches in and around Fleury-devant-Douaumont that I started to feel the true magnitude of the war. Located on a hill that cascades from the necropolis and ossuary, a cemetery contains a sea of more than 15,000 white headstones – Christian, Jewish and also Muslim, reminders that French colonial forces were instrumental in defeating the Germans at Verdun. Just a few minutes drive away, the Douaumont National Necropolis and Ossuary contains the skeletal remains of about 130,000 French and German soldiers. Inside the zone, south of Fleury-devant-Douaumont, the Mémorial de Verdun (a museum and memorial opened in 1967 by the government) offers stunning exhibits that give visitors a more comprehensive overview of the war.

Just outside the Red Zone, a small private museum, Romagne ‘14-‘18, tells the personal stories behind a large collection of war memorabilia. Besides the villages, which are open year-round and deemed safe to visit, a few museums and other sites have been erected to memorialise the soldiers who lost their lives for their countries. Although no-one lives in any part of the Red Zone and much of it is still considered too dangerous for visitors, French law recognises the destroyed villages as municipalities – there are even designated mayors who receive government money to receive guests and preserve the memory of what’s left.

How Crete changed the course of World War TwoĪfter the war ended in 1918, the French government deemed 1,200 sq km of non-contiguous land near Verdun too dangerous to inhabit and too costly to rehabilitate.A French village committed to deception.

Verdun ww2