In the Historical Tour entry, I could not describe everything I saw and felt during the Quasimodo tour of Flander's Fields so I'm offering that additional information, here.
We have booked a tour of the WW I battlefields in the Ypres Salient. On an appropriately grey day, we walk to the pick-up point for the tour. Sharon of Quasimodo Tours picks us up in a van. She is an interesting person: half Flemish and half Aussie but born in Penang, Malaysia when her father, who had joined the Aussie air force was stationed there. Our tour companions are an Australian couple living in Cambodia, a couple from New Zealand and a very knowledgeable British gentleman. A most interesting group, and we are looking forward to the day.
Our first stop is the Tyne Cot Cemetery. It got its name because members of a British regiment from Newcastle thought a cottage in the area reminded them of their homeland on the Tyne River. It is the largest cemetery in the salient and contains a wall with the names of almost 35,000 British Empire troops who were killed after August 16, 1917 and whose bodies were never identified. The cemetery includes two German bunkers, one with the Cross of Sacrifice on it. There are over 30 British Empire cemeteries in this area, consolidated from about four times that number after the war ended. Pictures of this cemetery and all the other places we see on this tour are on my Ypres photo site: (http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/ed_hk/).
We visit the New Zealand Memorial and Cemetery at Gravenstafel near where many New Zealanders and Australians died in the Third Battle of Ypres sometimes called Passchendaele. Many Kiwis and Aussies, to say nothing of Canadians, Indians, Pakistanis, Africans, and other soldiers from the far reaches of the empire died in this 10 or 15 square mile area. It was a slaughter house. I have a great deal of trouble understanding how men could have faced the terrors of not only the German guns but also drowning in the swampy bog, they were fighting in. The thought of it reminds me of a scene from The Bridge On the River Kwai, when, after the bridge is blown up, the camp doctor wanders down the river bed uttering the words "Madness, madness, madness" over and over.
We next visit Hellfire Corner, which every soldier had to pass on his way to the front and which the Germans had zeroed in on with their artillery. One of the most interesting facts is that approximately 3 tons of unexploded ammunition is dug up by farmers and others every year. There is a Belgian Army unit that does nothing but collect this ammo and dispose of it. There are pick-up points along the roads where the farmers leave the shells to be picked up weekly. As we drove around the area, we could see shells in the cement containers provided for them.
We stop for lunch at the Hooge Crater Museum. It is a small but very well done museum with a small cafeteria: well worth the 30 minutes it takes to browse through it. After lunch we visit Hill 60 where the British spent over 18 months building tunnels in which to place 19 huge mines which would then be detonated just before a planned attack. The mines were indeed exploded and Hill 60 taken in the Battle of Messines. We climb up the hill and see that the craters from the explosion are still there as well as German bunkers and other artifacts from 80 years ago.
By this time we are getting confused as to what happened when and so we buy a small study guide to try to fix the chronology in our minds. It's titled simply YPRES 1914-1918 and was written and self published by a British history teacher, Leslie Coate. This helps considerably. I find that Michael Duffy's First World War.com website is also a good source for understanding the chronology of WWI.
We visit an American Memorial near Mt. Kemmel. Evidently a few American National Guard units were assigned to the Ypres Salient, poor bastards. Calling Mt. Kemmel a mountain is a definite overstatement but in this area it is the only rise that is over 100 meters above sea level hence the title: mountain.
In the mid-afternoon, we go to Ypres to see the Menin Gate Memorial with its 58,000 names of soldiers whose bodies were never found. It is also the site, every night, of a ceremony in which at 8pm. traffic is stopped and buglers from the Ypres Fire Brigade play the Last Post. While we will not see the "Last Post" ceremony, the Memorial is overwhelming in its size and the events it memorializes.
I have a difficult time sorting out my emotions about a war that happened 80 years ago but was so brutal and useless. The British man on our tour, points out that WWI and WWII were the European equivalent of the U.S. Civil War with a 20 year cease fire and an outside intervention from the U.S. to end it. I think that observation makes a lot of sense and helps me see the conflict with a different perspective.
We also explore the town itself, and I am really impressed with the care and detail that was brought to rebuilding Ypres after 1918. We visit a recently uncovered trench just outside Ypres. The trench and a number of corpses were discovered by an amateur group of archeologists who call themselves "The Diggers." They have done an excellent job of re-building the trench so we can experience a little of what it was like for the Allied soldiers.
Our last stop is The Essex Farm Cemetery where Lt. Col. John McCrae, a Canadian Doctor worked at a medical dressing station during the Second Battle of Ypres in 1915. He is best remembered for his poem, "In Flanders Fields," written during the lulls between batches of arriving casualties. The dugouts he worked in are still preserved. There are paper and plastic poppies everywhere we visit as they have become the symbol of remembrance of those who died so needlessly in the so-called "Great War." It's time to head back to Bruges before I become terminally depressed.
In Flanders Fields by John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.