War memorials dot the landscape of Europe proclaiming victory and defeat - even glory. But fifteen miles northwest of Limoges, France, there's a war memorial that's different. In the village of Oradour-sur-Glane you feel almost like a trespasser chanced upon a private grief. You speak in hushed tones. And the atmosphere itself seems to whisper, "There wasn't any glory here".

Sixty-three years ago something terrible happened in Oradour-sur-Glane. In one nightmarish day this tiney village died. Then the shattered remains stepped outside the flow of time, a clock stopped like the heartbeats of its 642 inhabitants.

You see, in Oradour, it's always June 10, 1944.

No fancy words adorn plaques. No grand strategies are explained. Only one word written at the entrance tells you why this broken village exists. "Souviens-toi" (Remember).

It's hard to reconcile the devastated vilage with the peaceful countryside - a perfect spot to stop your car, relax, and let the tiredness from hours on the road gently slip away. If you wanted to get away from a hurried life, Oradour is just the place you might visit.

During World War II it was no different. Idyllic surroundings made Oradour a favorite destination for city dwelers in nearby Limoges. A place to enjoy afternoons of fishing and picnics.

The Germans Arrive

For the most part the war barely touched Oradour. It wasn't a center of resistence activity and remained far from any battles. Mostly, what enemy the people saw came for meals at the local hotels. So, it's easy to understand the complacency of the villagers when a company of the SS regiment "Der Fuhrer" rolled into town on that warm June afternoon. With the success of the Normandy invasion, troop movements were to be expected.

Historians still debate why this backwater village was selected at all for such brutal retaliation. Theories range from revenge for the killing of Germans by resistence fighters to a search for gold.

One story speculates the Germans first went to St. Junion. When asked how many resistence fighters were in the area, the town's mayor replied there were eighteen hundred. Not wishing to confront so many and thus slow their march to the front, the Germans moved into Oradour. Sadly, on that day, travelers from Limoges, farmers collecting their monthly ration of tobacco, and children awaiting a medical examination and vaccination had swollen Oradour's population to twice its normal size.

Concern hightened as the Germans herded the villagers along with others from outlying hamlets into the Town Square - a fear that lessened somewhat when word circulated the assembly was only for an identity check. Even when the men were crowded into barns and garages and the women and children into the church, the calm continued.

The Massacre of French Villagers Begins

Quickly, everything changed. The Germans sealed off the village. Then a gunshot rang out, the signal for the slaughter to begin. Tear gas filled the barns and church. Coughing, searching for a way out, the frightened people were met with gunfire. No one was spared and only a lucky few, less than two dozen, escaped. With ruthless efficiency the buildings with the dead and dying were sealed and set ablaze. Survivors thought they heard music playing as the village burned.

Those who returned and viewed the carnage vowed never to forget. Charles de Gaulle, leader of the Free French, declared Oradour a memorial, a reminder. Time stopped.

Today the village is a silent vigil to its pain. Tram tracks still etch the cobblestone streets. Overhead dangle decades old wires that once powered the trolley to Limoges. Markers identify each crumbling building - the bakery, the cafe, the train station, the butcher shop - along with the names of the people who lived there. Laudy's barn, Beaulieu's shed, Bouchoule's - the places where the victims were confined before being killed - are especially poignant. Except for a battered baby carriage and the melted tower bell, the roofless church with its bullet-pocked walls only hints at the horror that took place there.

The rubble reveals the reminders of everyday life: sewing machines, baker's ovens, vintage telephone boxes, bedsprings, frying pans, and tools. And in the Town Square a small, personal moment from that day is frozen in time. As the villagers were being rounded up, Dr. Desourteaux was returning from visiting patients. Pulled from his car, he was thrust into the milling crowd. His rusted car, tires long rotted away, still sits where he left it.

Regrettably for the ghosts of Oradour, few responsible for the massacre were brought to justice. Within a week of being given death sentences, all participants in the mass murder were freed.

Visiting the Ruins of Oradour

When you visit Oradour don't miss the memorial to the victims behind the Town Square. Inside the crypt are personal items, wedding rings, eyeglasses, and watches stopped at the terrible hour. On the walls are the names of the dead and their ages, from seveny years to a few months old. In the cemetary behnd the memorial, you can look upon the faces of the dead.

Entrance to the site is free, though there is a donation box. Hours of operation: 9:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m., mid-May through mid-December; (9:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. mid-September to mid-December and February and mid-May; Closed from mid-December thorgh January.

Four busses leave daily from Limoges. By car out of Limoges travel N141 to D9. A short account of the tragedy can be bought in the small shop at the entrance. A more detailed explanation is Jeni Kruuse's "War for an Afternoon". A controversial hypothesis concerning the search for gold can be found in Robin Mackness' "Massacre at Oradour".

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