Belgium 5 - Houthulst and Poltyze, and Ypres again. And a few oddments!
Is it possible, I hear you whine, to have more photographs of yet more cemeteries? Zzzzz....
Mmm. ‘Fraid so, folks! But I’ll try to leaven it out a bit. And they really really weren’t gloomy places, (well, not all of them)!
Leaving Charlotte and her family to hand trim this small consignment
of celeriac, fresh from the fields, before it could go off to market, we made tracks before we got roped in!
My son R is studying Garden Design at what was the Falmouth College of Art, now part of the University of Cornwall. (yes, I know - lucky duck - College by the sea!). For his final year dissertation next year, he is writing about creating atmosphere in gardens by design. He had visited the Battlefields, as had my daughter, with a school visit several years ago and he had remembered being struck by the different atmospheres of Langemark and the CWGC cemeteries, which he attributed partly to the garden management aspects of them. He had it in mind to have a chapter in his dissertation about the various war cemeteries and how they differed in atmostphere. So we had made a point of visiting those again and he took lots of pictures, pondered, made notes, walked round and looked at them from different angles, thought about how architecture, planting, maintenance and design affected them and asked visitors what impression the place had made on them.
On day 2 we had also passed but not stopped at a French Cemetery and then couldn’t remember quite where it had been so we asked Charlotte. When she heard why Rob wanted to visit, she suggested that we should also visit a nearby Belgian War Cemetery which was rarely visited by foreign visitors. We obtained directions from her and set off first thing on Sunday.
I have to say that, to me, this was the most attractive of the cemeteries we visited.
It was on a quiet road, in the countryside, sheltered by glorious beech woods and beautifully laid out in the shape of a star, as illustrated by a plan in the gatehouse.
It was the least crowded (in terms of burials) of all the cemeteries and probably the most personal perhaps for obvious reasons.
Some of the graves had French names, some Flemish - intermingled.
Some had photographs of their occupant in front of them,
some had fresh flowers.
The beech leaves provided a gentle rustling carpet and leaves were drifting down from the trees all around us, in the breeze, as we walked.
Beautiful mushrooms were pushing through them in one place.
A glorious autumn scene,
very tranquil.
At the back of this cemetery there were also some Italian graves,
perhaps 100 or so, arranged in a long row on the outside edge - mostly known by name but one or two unknown. Charlotte had told us that these were the graves of Italian Prisoners of War who had been brought to this area by the German Army as labourers and who had died here. As there is no Italian cemetery in the area, they were buried here with the soldiers of Belgium. A last hospitality. There was an Italian flag for them, too and flowers had been left quite recently by Italian visitors.
As at Poelcapelle, we were the only visitors there, it was peaceful and exquisitely beautiful in it’s cloak of autumn colours.
Well, well worth a visit.
As we drove back, we made a point of stopping to take a photograph or two of this amazing house
which was sparklingly new. We thought it was very stylish - only about half a mile from the cemetery and on an ordinary country road
but it somehow managed not to look out of place. Sorry this one is slightly askew - the car was moving again by the time I snapped this one off! Nevertheless, Rob would be able to give you chapter and verse on the exact make, model and engine size of the several swanky cars on and around the drive, too but you don’t really want to know that, do you? Nah, thought not, *lol*
Next we stopped to look at “The Brooding Soldier”
- a striking memorial to the Canadian Troops killed in this area
and on a road junction still to this day called Vancouver Corner. Beautiful grounds
very well planted and kept but again, gosh, there was a cold wind off the fields. And we admired
this very traditional Wind Mill, complete with sails (ironically not turning in the wind!) a little way down the road. Apologies for the wires, I confess that if I had been prepared to leap through the growing vegetables into the middle of the field, they might have been slightly less obtrusive but you'll have to settle for cinema verite this time!
Then, to complete the local set, we made our way to the French cemetery on Poltyze, almost in Ypres. Now here was a contrast. Look at this.
No shelter from the wind off the fields,
no flowers, just the perfect precision of thousands of white stone crosses, each with a brass plaque with a name and brief details. So bleak, I found I really didn’t like this cemetery and didn’t linger. But I include it here so you can see it, too.
Then, having visited most of the specific places we had wanted to see, Rob wanted to drive around the countryside for a while. We tried to find Hooge Crater (from the massive mines detonated by the Allied forces under the German Front Line) - it couldn’t be found, had been filled the boys were eventually told. We found dozens and dozens of cars parked on the grass verges as we entered one village and then realised that there was an Alton Towers type theme park in the village where local families were obviously making the most of their Sunday.
We paid a visit to the “ Oude Kaasmakerij” (The Old Cheesemakers - a sort of Cheese Theme Park which had an amazing World of Cheese model just inside.
Not many varieties of cheese in Africa, you’ll notice but lots and lots in Western Europe! You feel as though there ought to be a cheddar Pyramid there somwwhere, don't you? Down in the museum which was showing different uses for dairy products was this delightful Cleopatra - see, told you we should have had those pyramids! This is
Discreetly Curtained across the front, you'll notice, presumably to save the blushes of children and the delicate minded. Which, as my son pointed out, didn’t really work, as you had this full-on view of the luxuriating Cleo as you entered the room! None of the children about seemed in the slightest bit worried by her, though! There was also a comprehensive tour of the former cheese-making process with studious looking dummies and a very funny five minute wordless film about an "Old Cheesemaker" which made us giggle, so we watched it twice! And as we left, my husband demonstrated his musical skills on the “Churn Organ” outside.
They had even somewhat optimistically provided an instruction board, complete with a tune to play on the churns, all written out on a stave. Don’t ask, no, really, you don’t want to know what it sounded like! Even M hurriedly gave up!
We carried on tootling around with no particular destination in mind and were rewarded by finding a little bakery open in one village and bought some wonderful looking patisserie for our pudding after lunch! Though we ended up putting it in the fridge and bringing half of it home with us on Monday.
After lunch we headed for Ypres again - after all, we had promised ourselves a visit to that ice-cream and waffle shop (you knew I wouldn’t forget, didn’t you?)
But first, one more site to find. I knew that relatively recently, on the outskirts of Ypres, on the banks of the canal, some quite well preserved trenches had been discovered , whilst a site was being prepared for new warehousing - known as the Yorkshire Trench.
There is an inbuilt problem for new development of any sort in this area - almost all unused land is former battleground and may have bodies - though thankfully these are much rarer these days, trenches, pillboxes, unexploded shells, barbed wire, more or less dangerous hardware and there had been, for almost a century, a reluctance to develop such areas. But there was a real need for warehousing and industrial areas for Ypres if it was to survive and thrive in the modern world. So this was addressed and it was agreed that the area on one side of the Yser Canal should, subject to proper and very detailed preparations and excavations, be released for this purpose. Even when permission has been granted for new business development or new roads, extensive archaeology has to be carried out before any actual building work can be done. And at the Yorkshire Trench the trenches found were in such good condition that they were preserved, in the middle of a new industrial estate!
M had not seen any preserved trenches so we went looking for them. We, my party, had visited this site on my last visit a couple of years before when it had only just been landscaped, information signage erected and the site opened to visitors. So I had a rough idea in my mind’s eye of where they were. The only problem was actually finding it again. There were no signs on the main road that we could see. It was not marked on the special maps we had with us and, curiously enough, not many such sites have postcodes, so the TomTom couldn’t find it either. In the end, by dint of studying the map of Ypres and the layout of the canal, I worked out roughly where the site must be and we set off on a potentially prolonged tour of Ypres Industrial areas. I am proud to say that my cognitive mapping skills did us proud, and I, slightly to my own well concealed astonishment, took us pretty well straight to the spot and I found myself saying “I think it might be on the right somewhere here, about where that coach is parked and...”, oh, yes, we had caught up with a school party! Did my menfolk appreciate this superb display of memory and routefinding skills. Nah! What it is to be taken for granted!
So this is the top of the Yorkshire Trench,
where the Canal was defended by the dug in troopsand this is the view
through the metal gun board still in position in the shooting step of the trench. The deep dugouts are also still there,
and extensive, but are visibly flooded , you can look down into them when you go down into the trenches.
Then back into Ypres proper for an hour. R had seen a jacket he fancied in a shop the night before so he went and tried that on - he got me to take a picture on his phone of himself wearing it and sent this to his girlfriend back in Falmouth whereupon they mutually agreed via text message that it seemed a bit expensive for what it was and it was a long way to bring it back if he changed his mind! Gosh, he can’t half text fast. I sneaked away and got some Paloma macaroony things for my hubby as a surprise and we finally made that visit to the waffle and ice-cream shop! Ever tried Speculoos (Lotus biscuit) flavoured ice-cream? No? “Interesting!” is all I will say and quite pleasant, but then, we like Speculoos biscuits! And the waffles were good, hot and just perfectly crunchy.
Here is the view up towards the Menin Gate in daylight
the view the other way of the Cloth Hall framed by a construction crane,
, birds flocking
raucously around the spire of the Cathedral and the rose window of the Cathedral.
Here,
in the courtyard of the Cloth Hall, are incorporated the sole remaining parts of the building which were standing at the end of the war. (This photograph shows the ruins at the end of the war.
Winston Churchill wanted to preserve the remains of Ypres as a permanent War Memorial to the fallen but, unsurprisingly, when the people of Ypres were finally able to return to their devastated city and country after the war, they wanted to re-build it and as soon as possible! They prevailed, thankfully. And the tower has been rebuilt like this
- amazing, isn't it?
Then we took ourselves back to the farm for our last evening and off to the Notelaar Restaurant for our third and final meal there. We were surprised to find it very busy - the other times we had been there it had been quiet, though not quite empty. This evening it was full of local people thoroughly enjoying themselves - much consumption from wooden trenchers stacked with local cheese and ham on thick slices of bread with numerous little dishes of pickles, salad and various sauces. (Somehow cheese or ham on bread doesn’t take the imagination when you see it described like that on a menu but it was beautifully presented, in generous portions and looked delicious!) And ice-cream sundaes, lots of ice-cream sundaes! Would you believe I had to pass, I just couldn't manage one!
We chatted amongst ourselves about our day and waved to the party of seven Great War Forum enthusiasts who had also come in from Varlet Farm. As we finished our meal, the two Belgian couples at the next table leaned over and started to chat - in more than passable English, of course. Were we enjoying our visit (Very much so, thankyou!), where had we been, etc etc. It turned out that the daughter of one couple was married to an Englishman and lived in Doncaster so they visit England quite often. Did we find eating out in England expensive? Oh yes! So did they, they agreed ruefully. They liked England, though they found some built up areas a bit grim. We showed them the picture of the aluminium house which they agreed was very innovative and very recently completed) and we agreed that, on the whole the Belgians were much more adventurous than us in architecture - no mass designs for them. They were very surprised when we said we had been to the Belgian Cemetery (about a mile from their home, as it turned out), and touched that foreigners had been interested enough to visit. Delightful people, so welcoming and friendly.
So finally, we went back for our final night at Varlet Farm, breakfasted as usual though with one new guest - a young German man whose great-uncle ...yes, you've guessed.. was killed here and was buried in Langemark. He was planning to spend a week exploring the area by bicycle, perfect countryside for that! Charlotte was chatting away to him in German, telling him where to go - a woman of many talents and several languages.
We settled up with Charlotte. She had said that she always allowed relatives who visited to take away a small memento which had been ploughed up and offered us a choice of an empty shell or a shell cap. I had to be honest with her, I really couldn’t work up any desire to take home such a symbol of destruction from the very place where my GU had died. Rob had no such concerns and opted for a shell cap or nose, which he has taken back to uni to polish! (The first one hooked out of the barn by Charlotte’s son had to be rejected. Apparently it was still full of explosive. Nice! They found a safe one and put the other one back in the barn! Rather them than me!)
I explained how I felt to Charlotte and she very kindly allowed me to bring away a partially rusted entrenching tool - something my GU would have recognised, carried, might have used or touched, a part of his life, not his death.
We have not cleaned it up much, but M has varnished it to stop if deteriorating any more and it will be kept with Great-uncle John’s War Medals and some happy memories of our visit for this very special weekend.
And we made our farewells, and headed off for a leisurely drive back to the tunnel and England and home. Stocked up with supplies of goodies - Paloma chocolates
- and Christmas speculoos biscuits, cat's tongue chocolates and just a few bottles of Kriek,
the latter three all purchased in a fun quick dash round the village supermarket at Zonnebeke! (I thought we had brought back more Kriek than this but perhaps some fell into the boot of R's car and found their way to Cornwall!) I shall hoard these and try to keep a couple to enjoy at Christmas, just in case I can't find a UK supplier And as we passed Ypres, on our way home, a message reached my phone from daughter J. “Guess what just arrived?” The passport had finally turned up. Just too late.
Finally, a few odds and ends I liked enough to photograph along the way.
Here
and here
are some beautiful fungi I found growing on a tree at Poelcapelle Cemetery,
oak leaves and an acorn
on a path at Langemark, names carved into the walls of the entrance lobby,
also at Langemark,
a gnarled tree root with lichens at Houthulst,
a Rose of Sharon flower in the gardens of the Brooding Soldier,
at Vancouver Corner,
Around a wooden doorway between rooms
in the "In Flanders Field" exhibition at the Cloth Hall. I stood for some minutes puzzling about the parquet almost Jenga like odd shapes before I suddenly chillingly realised this was made up of stacked wooden crosses, presumably they were stockpiled like this somewhere near the battlefields.
a late rose at Tyne Cot
And we six - a better picture (M's!)
of those of us who had family members in action or killed at Varlet Farm, next to the newly unveiled Plaque. And, finally, back to what it was all about - the poppy cross Rob inscribed and placed at Varlet Farm, 90 years on from the battle.
Thank you all for hanging in there for the ride. I have enjoyed sharing all this with my friends and have been very touched and encouraged by all the positive comments. If you ever have the chance - do go to the Battlefields. The Belgian people are warm and welcoming, yes, there are solemn moments but lots of good ones, too. And there is a sense of pride in those young men and a sense of grief for what they endured.
I shall close with some more verses from Laurence Binyon’s poem “For the fallen”, written in 1914, when the true horror had barely started. Sometimes poetry can say things more eloquently than me.
“They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam. “
RIP, Private John Thomas Hopkins, 2nd Battalion Royal Marine Light Infantry.
KIA Passchendaele 26 October 1917, aged 21.
Not forgotten.