Day Twelve: 12 November 2010, Part Two

I'm back again.   To continue my journey in France with Steve Douglas and Kate:

It was a short drive from Vimy Ridge, to the village of Neuville-Saint-Vaast.   While here, Steve showed Kate and me two First World War cemeteries: one German, and one French.   Our first stop was the German War Cemetery.

The Neuville-Saint-Vaast German War Cemetery was established by the French in 1919, for German war casualties from the regions north and west of Arras, France.   It's now maintained by the German War Graves Commission.  

The sign's description--in German, French and English--(photo left) tells how and when this cemetery was established.   It also describes some of the First World War campaigns that were fought in this part of France, and the battles where the German soldiers interred here fought and died in.

I also found a second sign in German (photo right), carved on the wall within the cemetery itself.   My German isn't the greatest, but I believe it reads: The marker translates to: "In this Soldiers' Cemetery Lie 44,833 German Soldiers 1914-1918".    


We didn't find an office, where you could inquire about grave information here: just row upon row of crosses (with a few Jewish graves engraved with the Star of David).   The German soldiers buried here are mostly from the Battles of Artois in autumn 1914, spring and autumn 1915, and the Battles of Arras in autumn 1914, spring 1917 and spring 1918.

Steve told us this is the largest German war cemetery in all of Europe.   And it's not hard to see why.  

Strange thing is: the Christian German soldiers were buried two to a plot: one on either side of the cross (below right), with their names engraved on the cross' horizontal arm.   The Jewish German soldiers, however, had an individual stone marker for their graves, with a Star of David carved upon it (photo left).

If we'd had a lot of time to explore here, it would have been interesting to see if any of my German-born mother's family--both paternal and maternal--had relatives buried in this cemetery.   Alas, we only walked amongst the front row of graves.

In contrast to the Canadian cemetery we saw at Vimy Ridge, this German cemetery has hardly any landscaping, save for the trees planted here and there.  No flowers on the graves, no 'garden-like' scene at all.   It's all rather stark, especially in November.   It all seemed very lonely and sad.   And the cemetery seemed to stretch on forever, in long rows....

I wonder if any descendants of these German soldiers ever visit their loved ones here?   I left this cemetery feeling very sad.  

From the German cemetery, Steve then drove us to the west side of Neuville-Saint-Vaast, to a French 

First World War cemetery.   At first glance, the layout of this cemetery reminds me of photos I've seen of the US military cemeteries in France: white crosses, in rows that go on forever (photo left).

France lost over a million fighting men in the First World War: It was the highest total war dead on the Allied side.   It truly was the loss of a whole generation.

Steve, Kate and I wandered about this cemetery at will, crunching the fallen leaves beneath our feet.   We took quite a few photos of individual graves.   I found graves of French Jewish soldiers, which displayed a carved Star of David with two Hebrew letters, alongside their Christian comrades.   And all of them had the same motto engraved below their names, birth and death years: "Mort Pour La France": "Died For France".

I also found graves of French Zouave soldiers (photo left).   They were light infantry troops who were serving in North Africa, in France's colonial possessions of Algeria and Morocco.  The 'original' Zouaves were first raised in Algeria in 1851, and initially came from the Zouaoua tribe of Berbers living in the mountains of the Jurjura range.   They were characterized by their flamboyant dress: short open-fronted jackets, baggy trousers and oriental headgear.

While Kate and I wandered about the gravestones taking photos, our intrepid guide Steve was doing the same thing (below left)!

I figured there must have been several thousand graves here.  But this French war cemetery didn't sadden me as much as did the German one.   Perhaps it was because it felt more 'open'?   Or because most of the grave markers are white, and not like the iron crosses for the Germans?   I don't know.

By now, it was about noontime, and Steve asked Kate and me if we were hungry.   We both said 'a little', so off we went to eat!  

But before we did, Steve took us on a little side-trip, to see a really interesting local landmark: the ruins of the  Abbaye-de-Mont-St Eloi (right), which sat on a hill, and rose before us in the now-lowering mist.   He told us the abbey was destroyed in the 1870-71 Franco-Prussian War (although Wikipedia says the destruction took place in 1783--which was just before the French Revolution?). All that's left now is a section of the abbey's front wall, looking like two broken fingers pointing to the sky.

I wish I had thought to ask Steve if we could stop and get some photos of it.   But I never did.   The photo of the Abbey on the right is from another Web site.

Steve did tell us, however, he thinks that Walter Seymour Allward, the designer of the Vimy Memorial, got his inspiration from this ruin.  And thinking about it now, I believe Steve's right!

We left the Abbey and drove to the nearby village of Ecoivres

Steve, Kate and I found a table, and sat down to order.  We could have a three-course lunch (appetizer, entree and dessert) for 12 euros.  The menu, of course, was all in French, but I knew just enough of the language to get by.  I ordered Quiche Lorraine, along with a thinly-sliced steak dish with French fries--and dark chocolate mousse for dessert.   Steve and Kate ordered the same entree, but different appetizers and desserts.

We had a great time chatting over lunch: Kate shared some of her experiences as an au pair in The Netherlands, and Steve told Kate and I that he was born in the UK, and lived in Reading, England, before moving to Ypres to take over management of "The British Grenadier" bookshop.   He said he enjoyed living in Ypres better than the UK.

It was really nice to practice using French at the restaurant!   I was rewarded with smiles from the waiter and the owner.   The lunch, I must say, was 'c'est si bon!'    Steve, Kate and I left the restaurant, our hunger satisified.   I wish I had taken a photo of the restaurant's facade, at least...

We left the village itself, and Steve then drove us to the nearby Ecoivres British Cemetery, one of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission cemeteries (photo left).   It contained graves of British and Commonwealth soldiers killed in nearby battles: many of them were Canadians from Vimy Ridge.

During our visit to the cemetery, Steve gave us a little history on the founding of the Commission, which was created after the First World War as the Imperial War Graves Commission.   A British man named Fabian Ware was the commander of a mobile unit of the British Red Cross: at age 45, he was too old to serve as a frontline soldier.   When he arrived in France in September 1914, he was struck by the fact that there was no mechanism for marking the graves of those who were killed on the battlefield.   Ware felt compelled to create this commission within the British Red Cross for this purpose.   In 1915, his work was recognized by the Imperial War Office in London, and this unit was transferred to the British Army as the Graves Registration Committee.

As news spread about the committee's work, it began to receive enquiries from soldiers' families, requesting photos of their loved ones' gravesites.   In March 1915, with the support of the Red Cross, the commission began distributing these graves photos, along with other useful information, in answer to these queries.    In the spring of 1916, the Graves Registration Committee was renamed the Directorate of Graves Registration and Enquiries, in response to the fact that their work extended beyond just graves registration.   Their work also extended beyond the Western Front, to include battlefields in Greece, Mesopotamia and Egypt.

The Imperial War Graves Commission was created by Royal Charter in May 1917, with Edward, Prince of Wales (the future Edward VIII) as its President, and Fabian Ware was named as its Vice-Chairman.  Ware served in this capacity until his retirement in 1948.

Today, the Commonwealth War Graves Commission is responsible for the care of over 23,000 separate burial sites around the world,  and the maintenance of more than 200 memorials.  

Steve shared with Kate and me some interesting facts about the setup of these CWGC cemeteries.   First, the Cross of Sacrifice (photo left).   These take their inspiration from the original design by architect Reginald Blomfield, and commemorate the faith of the majority of the men who are buried in the cemetery.  

Crosses of Sacrifice are only placed in CWGC cemeteries with 40 burials or more.   Cemeteries with 1000 or more burials also have a Stone of Remembrance, to also commemorate of those of other faiths, or who might have no faith.   Since the Ecoivres cemetery had less than 1000 burials--but more than 40--it had only a Cross of Sacrifice.

Over time, the CWGC cemeteries have evolved into what one sees today: a beautiful and peaceful 'English garden', with trees, flowers and shrubbery.   Even in early November, these cemeteries have a stark beauty all their own.

As Kate and I walked among the rows of graves, Steve pointed out that some have epitaphs engraved on them: these were put there by soldiers' families.   Strange thing is, British families were initially charged three-pence to place an epitaph: a lot of money for a widow with children back then!   But Australian and New Zealand families were not charged for an epitaph.   Don't know if Canadian families were charged. But eventually, the three-pence levy was abolished.

Here are a few photos of the graves:

Grave of a British soldier--
his epitaph is engraved below his name.

Grave of a Canadian Soldier--
notice the maple leaf engraved on top.

Grave of a British Royal Flying Corps Officer.

And here's a wider view of the cemetery (below):

By now, it was nearly mid-afternoon, and time to return to Vimy Ridge for our 'tunnel tour'.  So we bid farewell to Ecoivres, and went on our way.   As it turned out, we got back in the nick of time: the tour group was already gathering near the tunnel entrance.   It consisted of a British couple, and several Belgians.   I think I was the only American!

The walking tour was led by a very knowledgeable young Canadian woman named Erica (photo left).  She is working as an intern at the Vimy Memorial.  She led us down a flight of concrete steps into the tunnel itself.   We were accompanied by another young Canadian intern named Gaetan, who brought up the rear, in case anyone suffered from claustrophobia, and had to be led out.   Thankfully, no one had a claustrophobic attack!

The Vimy tunnels were first created by the British, and then occupied by the Canadians, to face the German lines across no-man's land.   It was cool inside, but not dark; there were electric lights at intervals along the walls.   The walls themselves were of the local chalk stone, which made them easier for the tunnellers to dig into.   And we found some interesting things along the way.  

Inside a small 'room' carved in the tunnel, an unknown Canadian soldier had carved a tiny maple leaf on the wall (photo right).   Was he doing this, so he wouldn't have to think much about 'going over the top'?   Was he thinking of his loved ones back in Canada, and did he survive?   We'll never know.

The carving is protected behind a Plexiglass barrier.  I imagine many Canadian visitors have touched this tiny maple leaf over the years, with thoughts of their relatives and friends who died at Vimy Ridge.

A bit further along, Erica took us into a larger side-chamber.  This room (left) was set aside for the trench-messengers: those men who carried written orders, trench supplies, letters from back home, etc., throughout the trench system, which was quite extensive.   Here, they could rest for a bit.  And it was reserved only for the messengers!

I can see them taking a short snooze on these small beds.   The bed frames, table, and other items in here are all the real thing from the First World War.

Erica shared with us the fact that Adolf Hitler himself was stationed in the Vimy Ridge area briefly, before the April 1917 battle.   She also told us that, after Nazi Germany conquered France in 1940, Hitler gave strict orders that the Vimy Memorial, and other similar First World War memorials, were not to be destroyed.  The only memorials that were destroyed were French ones, that put the Germans in a bad light.   So the Vimy Memorial came through the Second World War unscathed.

We also saw what was called a 'sap tunnel': Erica told us this is where gunpowder was packed in for those huge nasty landmines.   It was very deep, and Erica said that Welsh coal miners created it, and did an excellent job.  

Unfortunately, I didn't get a photo of the sap tunnel: my camera batteries decided to die at that point!   So I had a bit of fumbling to do in my camera bag, to get new batteries....but I got them in in time for our next stop.

In this huge room (left), we found a wide range of what I call "The Stuff of War": all sorts of First World War relics dug up by the local French farmers, and others, in the years after 1918.   We could see soldiers' helmets, barbed-wire poles, barbed-wire cutters, broken crockery, machinery left behind by the tunnel-diggers, and remnants of weapons.   All this stuff is still being found nearly a century later. 

Thank heaven there weren't any 'live' weapons or shells in this room.   Erica did let us hold the metal remains of a Canadian Army rifle.   That thing was very heavy, even in its rusted state!

Near this huge chamber was a smaller one, about the size of a large walk-in closet.   Erica told us about the soldiers who were standing in this chamber, back in April 1917: the Black Watch of Montreal.   These men were dressed in kilts, and would be led by bagpipe players into battle.  The Germans feared them on the battlefield: they called them "The Ladies From Hell", or "The Red-Patched Devils". 

Whether they were more afraid of the sound of the bagpipes, or seeing these soldiers advancing dressed in kilts, is anyone's guess!

These Black Watch men were standing in this room on 8 April 1917, ready to go--until the attack was postponed for 24 hours!   So these guys had to stand in this room that whole time, with no food and hardly any water.  It must have made the men crazy, when they got the news to 'stand down'.  No wonder they were itching for a fight the next day....!

As we climbed out of the tunnel, Erica informed us that she didn't have enough time to take us through the rebuilt trenches on a tour--but we were free to do so on our own.   So Kate and I did just that: and Kate was nimble enough to climb atop the trench firing-step and get photos for herself, and for me, of the shell holes and mine craters in No-Man's Land (photo right).

Kate was also more nimble than I in walking through the trench itself.   I was overly cautious, I suppose: I was always nervous about turning an ankle on the bricks laid on the trench floor.   But I got through it standing on two feet, as you can see below.    It was breezy and a bit cold, walking round the mine craters, and through the trenches.   I must say I look like an Arctic explorer, all bundled up!   I was glad the trench provided a little shelter from the elements.


And, before this blog post goes on forever, I will stop, and see you for Part Three, of Day Twelve!

Day Twelve: 12 November 2010, Part One

Before I begin: a thousand apologies for the gap in blogging.  The Christmas-New Year holidays were a bit wearying, and I just wanted to procrastinate.   But I am back now, to resume my travels in Belgium and France....

The rain that fell on 11 November finally stopped this morning, but it was windy and cold and still overcast.   After another awesome breakfast at Erna's B&B, I decided to walk to Steve Douglas' bookshop in Ypres; I was going on a First World War battlefields tour with him.   The walk took around 20 minutes--and this time, I kept my eye out for local landmarks, in case I had to walk back to Erna's that evening.  I arrived at the shop just in time: Steve was just ushering into his van the only other tour group member: a delightful young Canadian woman named Kate.   When he saw me, he motioned 'hurry up!', so I clambered into the van, and introduced myself to Kate as Steve slammed the door behind me.

Kate was in her early 20s, I imagined; she was from Victoria, British Columbia, and was working as an au pair in Amersfoort, the Netherlands, for an American couple's three children.   She had decided, however, to return to Canada for Christmas.   We were on our way to France, to visit the Vimy Ridge battlefield: Kate said she'd learned about the battle in school, but her brother back in Canada was much more knowledgeable about it than she.

So--off we went: Kate and I were the only people on this tour with Steve.   Which was rather nice, I thought; then Steve could take time to explain the various sights to us in detail.   And we were in for a great day.

On the drive to our first stop, Steve gave us a little background of what was happening in the Ypres vicinity during the First World War.   He would point here and there, to indicate where the Allied and German forces were situated on the ground.   The terrain was generally flat, but there were small hills here and there--and those hills and ridges were bitterly fought over between 1914 and 1918 by both sides.   There was a decisive British victory won in this area in October 1917: the Battle of Messines.

Our first stop was in the village of Wijtschate, and the Church of Sint-Niklaas (St Nicholas).

Inside, we found a lovely little Catholic church (photo left).   Steve took us down into the church crypt, and told us a bit about its First World War history: it was used as a German field hospital.   And one of the wounded soldiers being treated there was none other than....Adolf Hitler!   Hitler was a young corporal during the war, and was primarily a messenger between units in the trenches.   By all accounts, he was a brave one, too.   He was even cited for saving the life of one of his commanding officers, who happened to be Jewish!!

In the rear of the crypt, there was a war memorial, with both a Catholic crucifix, and what looked like a Jewish menorah, or seven-branched candleabra (photo right).   It wasn't difficult to close one's eyes and imagine what it was like in here during the war: wounded and dying men; the stench of blood and death; the cries of the wounded.  And the overwhelmed medical staff, dealing with all of the chaos.

There was also a medieval tomb in this crypt as well: (photo left) Steve told us it was the final resting place of William the Conqueror's mother-in-law: one Adela of France, Countess of Flanders.   Her daughter Matilda was William the Conqueror's wife.   According to what I've found on Wikipedia, Adela became a nun after the death of her husband, Baldwin V, Count of Flanders, and was instrumental in establishing various Catholic colleges (as in 'communities', not educational insitutions) in the region.   She died in September of 1079.   How she ended up in this relatively tiny village church is a mystery!

Unfortunately, it's an empty grave today.   Steve thinks the Germans removed Adela's bones and took them back to Germany, where they might still be today.   And where that might be, no one knows.

Poor Adela: she can't Rest In Peace, after over 900 years.....her son-in-law The Conqueror can't be too pleased about that!

The church, like most every building standing in this part of West Flanders, was destroyed during the First World War.  But you'd never know by looking at it today.

We left the church, and made a brief stop in the nearby village of Ploegsteert.  During the First World War, British soldiers called it "Plug Street"!   We stopped in front of the Town Hall, where there was a plaque on the wall dedicated to Winston Churchill (photo left).   From 1914 to 1915, Churchill was First Lord of the British Admiralty.   But in 1915, Churchill was forced to resign his post, because of the failure of the Dardanelles, or Gallipoli, campaign in Turkey (which was aimed at knocking Turkey out of the war on the German side), and he became a front-line officer in the British Army, stationed near Ploegsteert.

The plaque had been unveiled by his late grandson and namesake, Winston S. Churchill MP, and also shows a portrait of his grandfather.   Steve told Kate and me that he once led a battlefields tour for Churchill's great-grandson Randolph!

Leaving Ploegsteert, we drove over a small ridge, to the town of Messines, site of a First World War British victory--and where several huge mines were set off, as the battle began.   We passed one roadside farmhouse, and Steve told us there was a huge unexploded mine buried beneath this very house!   God forbid the owners decide to dig under it anytime: the explosion could be catastrophic!

Very soon, we got on a busy expressway, leaving Belgium behind and entering France.   The surrounding landscape was still pretty flat--but the villages all looked the same: red pointed roofs on the houses, and a church with a tall steeple in the center.   Traffic was busy, but it moved fairly steadily, as we headed toward the city of Lens.

Soon, we noticed a wooded hill looming ahead, with two 'towers' just above the treeline.  This was Vimy Ridge, and the 'towers' were the Canadian National Vimy Memorial (to give it its formal name), marking the site of Canada's great victory at Vimy Ridge, in April 1917, in the First World War.

We turned onto a narrow road, to enter the Park.   There were wooded areas on both sides of the road.  But we also noticed grassed-over mounds of various sizes: these were made by artillery shells (photo left) fired in the runup to the battle itself.   These woods were marked-off with warning signs: there is still a lot of unexploded shells and other ordinance buried in the ground, and the Park staff doesn't want souvenir-hunters going beyond the ropes and blowing themselves up!

Kate and I both noticed how neatly trimmed the grass around the shell craters was.  Well, Steve told us the reason for that: one, the Park staff use specialized lawn-mowers that don't press down heavily on the ground.  And two: they also employ SHEEP (photo right)!   Vimy Ridge has its own shepherd on staff to care for the sheep--and nary a sheep has been lost to a shell or mine.

Steve told us a very funny story about Vimy Ridge's sheep: when the Memorial was being restored and refurbished beginning in 2001, the annual Remembrance service in April was moved to the small Givenchy Road Canadian Cemetery in the Park.   As the service started, the attendees heard the sound of hoofbeats: the whole sheep herd came over to see what was going on!   As the service progressed, the sheep got bored and wandered off.   But as it ended, the sheep galloped back in force to gawk!

Soon, we approached the parking lot near the Memorial.   The three of us climbed out, and Kate (photo left)  and I asked Steve to take our photos, .   It was definitely windy and cold at Vimy Ridge; the wind blew right in our faces.   Good thing I had my heavier red sweater on, and I brought my hat and gloves.   I'd need them up on the ridge summit itself!

A little background about the site is in order here.  Vimy Ridge was in German hands starting in October 1914, and there were several French attempts to retake it in 1915 and 1916, but with little to no success.  The ridge itself overlooks the Plains of Douai, and rises here to 200 feet: you can see the whole plain stretched out in front of you, as we were to see for ourselves (see right photo).

In February 1916, the British XVII Corps took over the sector from the French.   They were based at the foot of the ridge, and the Germans attacked them in May 1916, attempting to force the British from their position.  They captured several British-built tunnels and mine craters, before deciding to stop and entrench their position.   In October 1916, the Canadian Corps relieved the British IV Corps stationed along Vimy Ridge's western slopes.   It was also the first time in the war that the entire Canadian Corps fought together in the same battle.

On 9 April 1917, Easter Monday, the Canadian Corps under British General Sir Julian Byng (supported by the British 5th Infantry Division, the 24th British Division to the north, and the British XVII Corps to the south) began its attack.   Three out of the four Divisions achieved their objectives easily, but the 4th Division had much more difficulty; the Third Division had to come to their assistance, holding up the overall advance.   By nightfall on the first day, the Canadians achieved their initial objectives.   On 10 April, Byng brought in fresh Canadian reserves to renew the advance.  These fresh units leapfrogged Canadians already in place, and captured their third objective line, including Hill 135 and the town of Thelus.  By 2 pm, the 1st and 2nd Canadian Divisions reported capturing their final objectives.

 By now, a heavily-defended knoll known as "The Pimple" was the only remaining major objective.   On 12 April, the 10th Canadian Division attacked "The Pimple", and overcame the German defenders.   By nightfall, Vimy Ridge was firmly in Canadian hands.

The Canadians had achieved what the French and British could not do: capture Vimy Ridge.   Since then, Vimy Ridge has become a symbol of Canada coming of age as a nation, separate from Great Britain.   But it also came at a great cost: almost 3600 Canadian soldiers were killed, and just over 7000 were wounded.

After the war, General Byng was appointed Governor-General of Canada (the viceregal representative of the Canadian monarch--in this case, King George V) in 1921 by British Prime Minister David Lloyd George.   Byng traveled the length and breadth of Canada, meeting Canadian citizens.   He also immersed himself in Canadian culture, and was especially fond of Canada's national sport, ice hockey.   He and his wife, Evelyn, never missed an Ottawa Senators game.  

Ironically enough, Lady Byng donated the trophy that bears her name--the Lady Byng Trophy--to the National Hockey League in 1925, which is given to the player who exhibits 'gentlemanly play and good sportsmanship.'

In 1920, the Canadian Government announced that the Imperial War Graves Commission (now the Commonwealth War Graves Commission) had awarded Canada eight sites--five in France, and three in Belgium--on which to build war memorials.  In September 1920, the Canadian Battlefields Memorial Commission was formed, and it opened a competition for Canadian architects and designers to build appropriate memorials.  In 1921, Toronto sculptor Walter Seymour Allward's design was the one chosen.  When Vimy Ridge was chosen as the site to place Allward's design, the Canadian Government started to negotiate with France, to obtain more battlefield land, and ended up with 250 acres at Vimy Ridge; in turn, the French stipulated that it be used to create a memorial and battlefield park.   

Construction on the Memorial (photo left) began in 1925, and took eleven years to complete.   It was dedicated on 28 July 1926 by King Edward VIII, in his capacity as King of Canada.   It was also one of the few official duties he performed before his abdication later that year.  Over 50,000 Canadian, British and French war veterans and their families attended the ceremony, which was also attended by senior Canadian, British and European leaders, including French President Albert Lebrun.

On our walk from the parking lot to the Memorial, Steve gave us a little background on the Memorial itself: it is faced with limestone taken from an old Roman quarry in what's now Croatia.   The two 'pylons' represent Canada and France, and have maple leafs and fleur-de-lys sculptures, respectively, on them.   There are also several massive human-figure sculptures in place as well.   The base of the Memorial is inscribed with the names of 11,285 Canadian soldiers killed in France, who have no known grave.

There are a number of representative human figures on the Vimy Memorial.   The two photos immediately below are the Mourning Parents, representing the mothers and fathers of the Canadian soldiers who died in the First World War.   Their possible inspiration is that of the four Michelangelo statues on the Medici Tomb in Florence, Italy.

The sculpture Sympathy of Canadians for the Helpless depicts (photo below)  a man standing above three bowed figures representing famine, disease and oppression.   It symbolizes Canada's defense of civilians affected personally by war and oppression.

The Spirit of Sacrifice (photo left) depicts a dying soldier in a crucifixion-like pose, holding a torch aloft to a comrade standing above and behind him.  It's a veiled reference to a portion of the poem In Flanders Fields, written by Canadian Army doctor John McCrae, which says:

"To you from failing hands we throw

the torch; be yours to hold it high".

The Spirit of Sacrifice is such a moving sculpture.   I then asked Steve to take a photo of me standing in front of it:

But to me, the most moving and beautiful sculpture on the Vimy Memorial is known as "Mother Canada". Her formal name is "Canada Bereft".   But to most visitors, she is simply called "Mother Canada".   She is a mourning woman holding what looks like an an olive branch, and she looks mournfully down on a sarcophagus below, which represents Canada's war dead:

In the photo of Mother Canada below, my Canadian friend Steve Douglas patiently waits for Kate and I to finish our walking tour around the Memorial:

The rather stormy-looking photo below is my favorite personal photo of the Vimy Memorial:

We eventually climbed down (and it IS a climb, especially for me!) the steps of the Memorial to the base, to see some of the floral tributes left on Armistice Day.   They were left by the Royal Canadian Legion's Europe branch, the Canadian Space Agency (I honestly didn't know Canada has a Space Agency!) and representatives from Canadian political parties.

Oddly enough, one of the memorial wreaths was left by  Gilles Duceppe , the leader of the separatist Bloc Quebecois, who wants to take Quebec out of the Canadian Confederation!

I wonder if the 'fallen' maple leaves were purposely left scattered round the Canadian wreaths?

And even stranger, but a wonderful gesture nevertheless--there was a wreath left by the American Battle Monuments Commission, (photo below) which oversees the care of US battle monuments and cemeteries scattered throughout Europe, from both World Wars:

It was very difficult to leave the Vimy Memorial; as you can see, it is a very moving site indeed.  But Steve asked Kate and me if we wanted to go on a "tunnel tour" in the Park: a guided walking tour through one of the restored Canadian-built battlefield tunnels.   We both said "Yes!": however, the tour wouldn't begin until 2 pm--and it was now just short of lunchtime.   So, to use the time well, he took us to visit German and French war cemeteries near the village of Neuville-Saint-Vaast.

And by the looks of it, this post is quite long!  So I will continue with "Day Twelve, Part Two"!

Day Eleven: 11 November 2010: Part Two

I am back!   To continue with a memorable Armistice Day in Ypres, Belgium....

As I left the "In Flanders Fields" Museum, I decided to do some exploring in Ypres itself.   It was a very cold and wet day, with strong winds buffeting visitors in the Grand'Place.   It was now around 12 noon, and I was feeling both cold and hungry.   I spotted a small restaurant just off the Grand'Place, and decided to try it.   I went in through the bar area, which was surprisingly smoke-filled.   Don't know if the public smoking ban in Belgium had yet to be extended to drinking areas!   But I was led through to a non-smoking main dining area, which was a relief.   And it sure was busy!

The room was filled with chattering diners (some had come straight from the Menin Gate ceremony, as they all wore the poppy pin), as I was shown my table.   I ordered a dish of chicken and rice with mushroom sauce, and a lemonade.   While waiting for my meal, I watched the wait staff rushing to and fro with orders, and listened to the lively conversation of diners.

When lunch came, it was really delicious: the sauce came separate from the rice and chicken, and it was very flavorful.   My lemonade came in a slender bottle, and was tart instead of sweet (the way I like it).   The chicken was the surprise of the meal: it was incredibly tender and juicy, and it just fell off the bone!   I enjoyed it very much, and made sure to tell the wait staff so.

Soon, it was time to head back out into the cold and wet (I hated leaving the restaurant's warmth!).  But I sallied forth, and walked out of the Grand'Place, by the Cloth Hall.   And I found a most interesting monument (photo left).   It is called "Ypres Fury", and is dedicated to the memory of the citizens of Ypres who were killed in both World Wars.

This memorial was dedicated in June 1926, and is in memory of Ypres civilians killed in the First World War (and after 1945, to Ypres civilians killed in the Second World War).  

It's a rather flamboyant memorial, with a dramatic center sculpture (photo right).   It looks like a dead civilian (or is it a soldier?), mourned by women and angels (I am wondering if the angel in the background is the Archangel Michael, with upraised sword?).   The "Lion of Flanders" roars in anguish in front.   This is the same lion sculpture one sees atop the Menin Gate, come to think of it.

There were numerous floral wreaths laid before it.   That was probably done before the main ceremony at the Menin Gate.   The one here on the left is from someone affiliated with the Royal British Legion.

From the memorial, I made my way to St Martin's Cathedral.   Like the Cloth Hall and the rest of Ypres, the cathedral was also totally destroyed by the Germans in 1914.   Looking at it today, one could never tell it has been completely restored.

St Martin's Cathedral (photo right) was constructed between 1230 and 1370, and once served as the 'official' cathedral for the diocese of Ypres between 1561 and 1861, when Ypres was incorporated into the diocese of Ghent, Belgium.   It does not serve in that capacity today, but is still referred to as a cathedral.   Buried in the Cathedral crypt are Cornelius Jansen, the founder of the Jansenism theological movement, and Count Robert III, known as "The Lion of Flanders".

As I approached the Cathedral, I saw a closed door, and a very long line of people waiting to be admitted inside.   I assumed it was for a tour of some sort.   It was quite cold during the wait: the wind was blowing fiercely, and I had to stand with the wind to keep my coat hood on!   The line grew, and the door remained closed, so I decided to get out of the line, cross the street, and get some photos of the Cathedral (above right and below right).  After I took the photos, I saw that the Cathedral door was opening, so I got back into line.

When I finally entered the Cathedral, I realized the wait was NOT for a guided tour: it was for a special Armistice Day concert, called "The Great War Remembered".   It was sponsored by The Last Post Association, which was founded in 1928, and is responsible for, among other things, the continuance of the nightly "Last Post" ceremony at the Menin Gate.   

The concert was being performed several times this day, and I believe I was there for the final performance.   I did not have a ticket (not knowing it had to be purchased beforehand), so I was asked to wait until the ticket-holders were admitted and seated--and then, perhaps, I'd be allowed to attend.   Two people waiting with me decided not to wait, and left.  But I am SO glad I stayed; about ten minutes before it began, I was allowed to stay, and I paid my admission.

While I waited, I got this spectacular interior photo of the Cathedral ( below left).   I was so surprised the photo came out so well.  The blue lights aren't there every day.   But they did create a wonderful ambiance for the concert to come.

I was shown a seat on the right side of the nave (in the left photo), which had a view of the organ loft in front, and above.   The organ was playing softly, as the vast crowd settled in.  The swirling blue light on the ceiling had the effect of white clouds in a blue sky.   I thought it was quite magical.

In the Sanctuary, there was seated an orchestra: the Royal Harmony Ypriana, consisting of 80 local musicians who perform at various ceremonies in Ypres, including this one for 11 November.  There were also huge HD television screens set up in the Sanctuary, and around the nave, so those in the back, or in places with poor sight-lines, could see and hear what was happening 'onstage'.

Also appearing with Ypriana  was the Loretto Senior School Chamber Choir from Scotland (Loretto was founded in 1827 as an independent boarding school and currently has just over 600 students); the buglers of the Last Post Association; the Beauvarlet Koksijde choir from Ypres; the Roeselaars Kamerkoor, a 20-member chamber choir from Ypres; the choir of Holy Trinity Church, Dartford, Kent, UK--and UK tenor soloist Sean Ruane.

The concert began with a Fanfare by Ypriana, followed by a short Welcome from Benoit Mottrie, chairman of the Last Post Association, which was read in both English and Dutch.  Ypriana then played the latter part of Rossini's William Tell Overture, followed by another instrumental, Between the Two Rivers (depicting the peace of summer 1914, just before the First World War broke out).   Then came a reading called Start World War I, read by a young woman named Ann Sophie Senesael.   She sometimes spoke softly, which made it difficult to understand.   But the pictures on the HD screens told the story of the start of the war.

Ypriana was then joined by the Loretto Senior School Chamber Choir, the Dartford choir, and Beauvarlet koor and Roselaars Kamerkoor for a rousing rendition of George Frederic Handel's coronation anthem, Zadok the Priest, with lyrics taken from the Old Testament, describing King Solomon's anointing and crowning.   It's one of the four Coronation Anthems composed by Handel for the coronation of King George II of England in 1727, and it's been sung at every British Coronation since then.

When the applause for this anthem died down, Ypriana, along with the Fire & Rescue Service Bands and the Dartford Choir, performed the Overture to the HBO Second World War series Band of Brothers.   It is such a moving, and popular, composition; the music is also used in a song called Requiem For a Soldier, sung by the British soprano Katherine Jenkins.   This Overture always makes me cry.   It's perfect for an occasion like this concert!

Then Sean Ruane appeared with Ypriana, to sing "Nessun Dorma" from the opera Turandot, by Giacomo Puccini.  What a beautiful voice Mr. Ruane has!   This aria was made popular by the late Italian tenor Luciano Pavarotti.  But on this day, Sean Ruane made it his own!

When the applause died down, Ann Sophie Senesael reappeared, to read a verse entitled "Gas Attack 1915".  The poem was accompanied on the TV screens by horrific images of battle in the First World War, as if to signal that the war was only going to get worse.   When the poem was finished, Ann Sophie left the stage, and Ypriana performed the Overture to Carl Maria von Weber's opera Der Frieschutz: a very dramatic piece, that was considered too daring after its premiere in 1821 in Berlin.

The mood abruptly changed with the next piece: Pie Jesu.   The program I received didn't say who the composer of this version was; the words are derived from the last couplet of the Dies Irae of the Roman Catholic Requiem Mass.  The most well-known Pie Jesu is found in French composer Gabriel Faure's Requiem.  This version was sung by the Loretto Senior School Chamber Choir--and the girl-soloist had the most angelic voice I'd ever heard!   She gave me goosebumps, and I'm sure the rest of the audience felt the same way.   She received sustained applause when she finished, and looked a bit embarrassed by all the attention!

Another poem, 1916-1917, was next, read by Ann Sophie, followed by a very moving rendition of the well-known hymn Amazing Grace, performed by the Combined Fire & Rescue Service Bands, tenor Sean Ruane, and Holy Trinity Dartford Choir.   I wanted so much to sing along; I wonder if any other audience members wanted to as well?   Then followed an instrumental piece by Ypriana, Supreme Sacrifice.   I don't know who the composer of Supreme Sacrifice was.

Next was a prayer, For the Fallen, read by the Rt Rev Brian Llewellyn in English, and by E.H. Deken Roland Hemeryck in Dutch.   It went as follows in English:

Remembrance

We remember before Thee with gratitude, O Lord our God, who gave their lives for the cause of freedom.  Grant unto all of us for whom they died that their devotion may bear fruit in us in more abundant love for others, through Jesus Christ our Lord.

For those who suffer as a result of war

O Lord, our heavenly Father, we commend to Thy mercy all who suffer as the result of war; the maimed, those who are afflicted in mind; those who mourn.  Have pity upon the homeless and friendless, and upon those who no longer have a country of their own.   Fill us with compassion for them, prosper all who seek to minister to their needs, and hasten the coming of Thy Kingdom of justice and peace, through Christ our Lord.  AMEN.

This prayer was followed by the sounding of "Last Post", by the Buglers of the Last Post Association.  I never tire of hearing this bugle call: to me, it is even more moving than our Taps!   It reverberated around the Cathedral walls, and then died away.   The audience was deeply moved.   It was then followed by the singing of one of my favorite hymns: Abide With Me, by Henry Francis Lyte.  It was a favorite hymn of such diverse people as Britain's King George V, and Mahatma Gandhi (!), and sung at the weddings of King George VI, and his daughter Princess (now Queen) Elizabeth.   It is also sung at ANZAC Day services in Australia and New Zealand, in April.  Today, it was sung by the Beauvarlet Koor and Roselaars Kamerkoor.   Another solemn lament followed, Roses of Kelvingrove, performed by the Combined Fire & Rescue Bands.

But the music performed in this concert wasn't totally solemn: and the following songs would testify to that!

Next came a medley of "Soldier Songs" from the Great War, performed by Ypriana and the four choirs: Mademoiselle From Armentieres, Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag, Keep the Home Fires Burning, and It's a Long Way to Tipperary.   And the audience was encouraged to sing along with the choruses!   The version of Mademoiselle we sang was one of the 'cleaner' renditions; some of the more racy versions talk about 'washing soldiers' underwear' (and probably other stuff too!) and such.   I wasn't familiar with the verses themselves, but I certainly knew the choruses!  

It was SO much fun to sing along with the choirs and the orchestra: I couldn't get Mademoiselle and Tipperary out of my mind for days afterwards!!   Still can't, now that I think about it.....  The Loretto Choir also sang a beautiful version of Danny Boy; the young girl who sang solo for Pie Jesu did the same thing here, and was appreciated with more sustained applause.

These songs were followed by a song performed by the Fire & Rescue Service Bands, World In Union.   The program notes say this is played during the Rugby World Cup, and attempts to capture the spirit of international friendship found in 'rugby union culture'.   Sean Ruane, the four choirs, and Ypriana then followed with a beautiful version of an Irish poem, The Last Rose of Summer; then these same performers stayed around for a rousing version of British poet William Blake's Jerusalem, with music by Hubert Hastings Parry.   This hymn has become an 'unofficial' English national anthem, and is sung at international soccer matches.   The audience sang along, of course.

Jerusalem was then followed by one of the most beautiful and moving bagpipe songs I've ever heard: Highland Cathedral, played by the Combined Fire & Rescue Bands, with a bagpipe soloist.   It was composed in 1982 for the Highland Games in Scotland, and is being proposed as Scotland's own official national anthem.   I can't see why not: it has the most glorious melody, evoking the beauty of Scotland!

Here is a YouTube video of "Highland Cathedral",
performed by the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards
in Dunblane Cathedral in Scotland.

When this song was finished, there was a storm of applause ringing throughout St Martin's Cathedral.  I do hope the Scots adopt this as their national anthem!!

When the applause faded away, we all stood for the national anthems of Great Britain and Belgium: God Save the Queen, and The Brabanconne, respectively.   Even though I am not a British subject, I still sang along to the UK anthem.   On this trip, I am British at heart (although my Irish ancestors might take exception to that)!    The concert concluded with the Fire & Rescue Bands playing Auld Lang Syne, before we filed out of the Cathedral, into the waiting evening.  

All I can say is: what an incredible concert!!

When the crowd came back outside, the rain had finally stopped, but it was still windy and cold in the Grand'Place.   It was around 6 pm or so, and time to head back to the Menin Gate for the evening "Last Post" ceremony.  The street was surrounded by metal barricades, as the bands that played at the concert were to make their way back towards the Gate.

I did stop in at "The British Grenadier" to say hello to Steve, and tell him a little about the concert, but I didn't stay long.   I went back out and moved closer to the Gate, joining the throngs of Belgians, Brits, Canadians--and whomever else!--lining the street.  I chatted with a Belgian lady, and also attempted to make friends with an Italian Greyhound and a nervous black-and-white King Charles Spaniel, who were straining at the lead to sniff each other.  The Greyhound (photo above left) wore a little sweater, and was called "Gawa": the owners said it was a Sikh word that meant "Good Luck"!

 I did get a few photos of the various bands marching from the 'GrandPlace to the Menin Gate for the "Last Post" ceremony.  There were also a number of soldiers marching in the 'parade': mainly from Belgium, but there could have been British ones too.   They all marched smartly along, and the crowds lined up on both sides of the street (and behind the police barricades) applauded them enthusiastically.

I tried to get good photos of the bands (right and below), but they were initially a bit blurry, because of the motion.   Thank heaven for a photo-sharpening software!

The spectators in the street, and those within the Menin Gate, fell silent as 8 pm approached, and the members of the Ypres Fire Brigade sounded the "Last Post".   The middle verse of Laurence Binyon's poem For the Fallen, was also read, and the crowd repeated the last line: "We will remember them".   I couldn't see from my vantage point, but there was yet another wreath-laying ceremony that evening, although not as large as at the morning service.   But it was moving, all the same.

After the ceremony was over, and the crowds dispersed, I lingered for a short while within the Menin Gate, and looked again at the piles of wreaths from the morning, and the new ones laid that evening.   I also chatted with a couple from Yorkshire named Carl and Jo, and we shared our various feelings about the day, and the evening ceremony.    They were also looking for a specific name inscribed on the inner walls of the Gate.   I think they did find it.

By now, it was getting late, and I thought I had better get back to Erna's house.   The streets were virtually deserted on the other side of the Menin Gate, but there were a few stragglers from the ceremony, as I quickly walked.   Stupidly, I didn't keep track of any landmarks when Erna brought me to the Gate earlier that morning, so I wasn't sure where I was.   I found my way into one neighborhood, but all the houses looked the same in the dark and narrow streets; I asked one couple where Erna's street was, and they gave it to me in broken English.   But I only ended up going completely in circles!

At this point, I was totally confused, and decided to go back into the walled part of Ypres, and find Steve.   After futilely asking directions from a Middle Eastern liquor-store owner, I went back through the Menin Gate--only to discover that Steve's shop was closed for the night!   

I didn't panic, surprisingly; I kept my wits about me and thought about calling a taxi, so I went to a nearby pizzeria: "Poppy Pizzeria", if you can believe that!   There were few customers inside--but two, thankfully, were British!  They told me they were from Liverpool, and I told them about my day in Ypres, and my current dilemma.   They asked the young manager for help--and when I showed him Erna's address, he told me he knew her!!!!    The young man's name was Trevor, and is originally from The Netherlands.   His dad owns "Poppy Pizzeria", and he came to Belgium to be with his then-girlfriend (he told me they had since broken up)--and they would stay at Erna's house.   And to make it all the more incredible: Trevor told me they stayed in the very room I was currently occupying!!!

As Trevor drove me back to Erna's, we cracked up about this amazing coincidence.   He was so kind--as was the British couple--and I thanked them both for all their help.   I let myself in the front door (Erna had given me a key for just such an event), and saw Erna and told her about meeting Trevor.   She thought it was very funny.

By this time, it was quite late, so I wished Erna good night, and toddled upstairs to bed.   It was the end of another awesome and spectacular day.   And I had one more to go in Belgium!