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It was Saturday 10th June 1944. An identity check in the fairground. Then they were searching the buildings and we women were told to go to the church with the children. The children sang on the way there. It soon became clear that something was wrong when a large smoke bomb exploded. I managed to escape up a ladder behind the altar and threw myself to the ground outside despite being shot several times. I could hear the gunfire and smell burning bodies as I dug myself into the earth. Their cries were heard across the hillside, the 642 inhabitants of Oradour-sur-Glane.
Lynda's Blog 
Great minds definitely think alike! What a terrible event to have happened. It's of the utmost importance that we never forget what happened all those years ago.
What a great piece and so appropriate for the time somehow. We've visited and you have captured the sense of despair that is all around the Martyr Village. Thank you for sharing on the 100WCGU
This the third entry I've visited, and I may have to stop for a while. You have also evoked so much sadness with your entry that I feel my heart may burst. But I know we need to be reminded of these events to remember how we don't want to be. To make sure we never forget.
Powerful and moving writing, very well written
Evocative piece of writing. I was there in the fairground too…
Oradour-sur-Glane stands as a symbol of the inhumanity some impose on others. While a sad story, it is one we must tell.