Battle

A short summation of the Battle of Hastings (this is also posted on FBook... skip down a couple of paragraphs if you already read it there. Or if you're a history genius and you already know all about the Battle of Hastings):
The year is 1066. King Edward has just died, leaving England without an heir. Two claimants come forward: Harold, and English noble who claims that Edward promised him the throne from his deathbed and William, a Norman (Frenchman) who claims Edward promised HIM the throne. Conundrum!

So Harold convinces everyone to crown him. Meanwhile, William of Normandy gets some support from the Pope and builds up his own army. He crosses the English Channel and meets Harold's troops (who are already exhausted from battling in the North) at Hastings.

King Harold's English army's trick is to stand firm and lock their shields together like a makeshift wall. The Normans really aren't going anywhere fast against such tactics. They suddenly break ranks on the left and appear to flee. Triumphant, Harold's English boys flee after them, hungry for a kill. But, at the crucial moment, the Normans turn back around, surround the English pursuers and kill them all.

William tries this a couple of times, thinning out the English army a little at a time. Finally, he unleashes a storm of arrows upon the English. As the story goes (and this part is a little up for debate), King Harold gets an arrow through the eye, and William (now "the Conqueror") is victorious!

... Really, the point of all this is that the Normans won. And if they hadn't done that, England probably would have remained on the fringes of European society and politics. If England hadn't become so important, which it did as a result of this battle, it wouldn't have been nearly so influential in the years and centuries to come. French probably would have dominated the New World, for instance, and you'd be reading this en Francais.

~~~~~

On the train into Battle, as I was reading my handy Rick Steeves' England guidebook (thanks again to my brilliant sister for giving it to me!) and perusing the lush English countryside, I had a flashback to a certain scene from a certain movie. A Tourist myself, I half expected (okay, maybe just wished longingly) that my longlost lover, dear Johnny himself, would appear and sit in the seat opposite me. We would discuss my book, and I would tell him my name. He would laugh and say it was terrible (my name, not the book). He would whisk me off in his boat to his lovely hotel and take me out for a fabulous dinner and we would be chased by madmen with guns... it would be terribly exciting...

Sorry, I digress.

On the train, as I was rereading Rick's commentary on Battle, I thought back to the 8th Graders I taught for two weeks last year. Oddly enough, they were covering the Battle of Hastings at the time and I was expected to teach them all about it. Remember that part about hating history when I was in high school? Yeah...that hatred made such lessons a bit difficult for me. In any case, I do remember teaching it more so than learning it, so I had some reference point for what I was about to discover. This did, however, reinforce my desire to bring what I learn to my future students. If only I could travel back in time and teach those 8th Graders again... it would be a MUCH better lesson after this!

Wandering around the battlefields, I made a realization about myself. Before I left on this little mini-excursion, there was a large part of me that didn't want to go. To be more specific, I didn't want to go alone. I just feel like it's so much more fun to explore things when you're with someone. Who's going to take silly pictures with me? Who am I going to say "Tour Guide Angela says..." to? Who am I going to people-watch with? It's just not the same on my own. But I really wanted to see these things, and I wasn't willing to stay home for my entire half-term break by myself. So off I went. And you know what? It was all right. I maintain that it would have been better with someone else, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Even as I'm typing this, I realize it's a crazy thing to feel. I moved halfway around the world by myself, and I don't want to go on a daytrip alone? I know, I'm crazy. But the heart feels what it feels.

Another major self-realization (another one? yep, this trip was all about personal growth...or something) was that I could never, NEVER have survived a soldier's life. Trudging up that hill in my runners (or "trainers" as they're called here), I was more thankful with each step that I wasn't wearing armour. And carrying a sword. And marching towards my inevitable death. When I got home the next day and watched Braveheart with Joe, this feeling was further reinforced. A soldier's life is all about being told what to do and when. And about living a life where each day could be your last. And NOT getting emotional about that. Beyond the physical strength needed to march into battle day in and day out, the mental and emotional strength required to live such a regimented life are just not in me. We live in different times. At least, I feel fortunate that we do.