![\"Wet,](\"https:\/\/ourtourmedia.s3.eu-central-003.backblazeb2.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/01\/DSC00043.jpg\")
<\/a>Wet, it may be. \u20ac7 for staying in a car park may seem steep. But this is heaven to us right now.<\/p><\/div>\n
Since deciding to come to Tunisia, we’ve been aware of the fact Julie’s grandfather (her Dad Malcolm’s father) is buried here. Since arriving in Tunisia we’ve felt the weight of the fact. There was no way we would leave the country without visiting and paying our respects, but as the grave is in the centre of Northern Tunisia, we have circled around to it so we could have a look at the north of the country first.<\/p>\n
Yesterday as I looked up the 1st Battalion Scots Guards, I realised that we were probably in the same valley through Northern Tunisia he’s likely to have travelled 70 years ago. It was a sobering thought. The Allies launched an attack on North Africa, Operation Torch<\/a>, coming in through Vichy French-controlled Morocco and Algeria (who were technically obliged to fight against the Allies but put up little resistance), under pressure from Russia to help prevent the Germans from crushing them. The idea was to form a platform from which Italy could be attacked via Sicily, a plan which was ultimately successful. As far as I can tell, David would have sailed from the UK into Algeria. Once the task force touched down, the Axis powers responded immediately, landing troops in Tunisia the next day.<\/p>\n The glowing-green Medjerda plain, scene of fierce fighting in winter 1943.<\/p><\/div>\n A modern-day scene in Northern Tunisia. A few inches of ground clearance maybe?<\/p><\/div>\n As I said above, from what I can see (please anyone correct me if I’m wrong), the 1st Battalion Scots Guards formed part of the fighting units which\u00a0attempted\u00a0to race across Tunisia, through the same wet-season mud which now encrusts Dave, to get to Tunis before the Axis could fully organise themselves. As we drove along from our sleeping spot last night, the Medjerda plain opened up to the south, the same one David would have had to fight his way through around late March\/ early April 1943. Just to our left rose a high bank of hills, presumably great\u00a0defences\u00a0for the Axis, and each would have had to have been cleared somehow.<\/p>\n The road for us was, of course, an easy ride. Wide and for the most part smooth, we cruised along, with a feeling of foreboding building. Passing through Beja, we hardly looked at the place, it looked grim in the grey rain. After an hour or two on the road, thanking a deity for our washers and wipers functioning as intended as the rain came down, and mud came back up, we spotted the huge 20km long lake created by the Sidi Salem dam. By this point the plain had punched back up again, the lake forming from the river which used to flow through the valley created by the hills. Lush and green, we could have\u00a0persuaded\u00a0ourselves\u00a0we were in the Lake District. As we rounded a corner in the road, a green sign appeared, much like those we’ve seen across the whole of Europe, but this time it was personal. Ju’s eyes had been tear-filled for a while, stopping once she had something practical to do, organising Dave in his roadside parking spot below the unsealed mud track leading up over the hill and out of sight. A man on a 100cc bike man-handled it up the slope, ignoring us but for a lifted hand.<\/p>\n A road sign in English here is a rare sight.<\/p><\/div>\n This mud road used to end in the town, which was shifted when the lake was created. The cemetery lies at the bottom of the hill, a few hundred meters to the left.<\/p><\/div>\n Climbing the hill we grew a few inches, the soil was clay-like from the days of rain, and our feet grew heavy. I tried to make light of it, scraping my feet on whatever stone I could find. Topping out, we could see the head stones assembled off to the left, the odd sight of a church tower framing them behind. We trudged the rest of the path.<\/p>\n The\u00a0graveyard\u00a0was, of course, very well kept, an oasis of order and cleanliness in a country where these things are far more rare than our north European homeland. A clean boot-scraper at the solid metal gate was put to good use and we walked in to read the plaque and find David’s spot. Ju was by this point breaking down, I was unsure whether to leave her alone or to comfort her. I tried a mixture of both.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a>