Oradour

The sun was shining making the stones in the road and the rails on the train track glisten. The young children laughed as they jumped from stone to stone in what would have been someone's back garden once.

The birds chirped loudly and flew freely in the endless blue sky and young families sat on the steps of what 69 years ago was a thriving town with 3 cafes, 2 hotels, it's own telephone exchange and it's own station.

But there was nothing normal about Oradour-sur-Glane. You can't imagine what happened here - the mindless slaughter of 642 defenceless men, women and children. You walk past the schools, 3 of them in ruins. The church where the women and children were hoarded in, doors locked and the building torched.

Oradour-sur-Glane appears today as it was left when the SS pulled out with the addition of a memorial to the victims in the old town cemetery where 2 glass topped coffins are full of charred bones so that no one forgets.

There is a museum now, but that is low key and built underground - the structure appearing from the top giving the appearance of a monument - doesn't shout, hey look at me - doesn't glamorise the event. The poignant moments - the remains of a child's pram in the church and the signs asking for silence.