The Last Tree

It says something significant about a war, a campaign or a specific battle, if, at the end of it there is a need to honour the one tree still standing. At the South African monument in Delville Wood in France there is just such a tree, a Hornbeam, deformed by bullets (presumably) and surrounded by a fence with a plaque explaining its significance. I don’t think that I can adequately explain the impact of visiting one of the most beautiful monuments I have ever seen, situated idyllically in the middle of a sweeping wood, and to see a single tree revered.
The first impression I had upon entering Delville Wood was one of peace and serenity. We went on a beautiful, sunny day in May. The trees shaded the manicured paths, the birds sang above us, and a gentle breeze made the shady dell seem to be a true paradise. The only obvious signs of the bloody battle fought there nearly a hundred years before were the white stone markers on each path bearing their original names from battle maps of World War 1 such as Rotten Row or Cape Town. I began to notice as I walked that the forest floor has an odd landscape, with small but distinct hills and valleys that make the wood look oddly like a green ocean on a choppy day. It was with chilling awareness that I realized that these were the scared remains of a violent battlefield, complete with shell holes and trench lines that at one time made this beautiful landscape a barren wasteland.
As we emerged from the trees, the wall surrounding the monument extended its arms out, seeming to offer sanctuary to any who enter. Past the wall is a white, circular building with etched glass windows surrounding the Cross of Consecration, a break from the traditional Commonwealth cemetery symbol of the Cross of Sacrifice. Inside you read about how the 1st South African brigade went into the wood with 3,153 men on July 14th, 1916 and, told to hold the wood at any cost, walked out six days later with 143 men. The amazing carvings within show various aspects of the battle and the regiment, but the most poignant for me was the bronze entitled “the Sixth Day” showing the bedraggled and devastated remains of the South African brigade leaving the cursed battlefield with the skeletons of the trees surrounding them. It is within this context that we went to see “the Last Tree.” With the memory of a haunting landscape so opposite to the lush greenery surrounding us we were then able to feel the due appreciation of a single tree in the middle of a huge forest. Much like the forest was decimated, so too were the troops sent in to hold the wood against terrible odds. The realisation did not come quickly but, as I stood there with the warm spring breeze blowing my hair I understood that all of Delville Wood is now a cemetery for the thousands of men who still lie buried beneath the lush soil. It is perhaps the most beautiful cemetery that I have ever been in, but also the most horrifying. The remaining tree stands as a testament to the battle fought there and the heavy cost it bore.
Jennifer Fink