When we were in Oostende 19 years ago for ClarinetFest, the festival organizers arranged for a WW I tour of Flanders for those who were interested. Back then, my husband K went to ClarinetFest all day every day, while our two daughters and I played tourist. We took that tour and found it to be very interesting. The man who had been organizing this year's ClarinetFest was friendly with my husband and had promised to take him to some important WW I sites. Sadly, he and his son were killed in a car crash a year ago. Others, including his family, took up the mantle and put on this year's ClarinetFest. They also set up a WW I Flanders tour for today, the day after the conference ended. We stayed in town an extra day to be able to go on this tour, which cost 100 Euros for each of us .
In order to be at the Thermae Palace on time, we had to get up about 6:15. K went to breakfast at 7:15, planning to go back to the room afterwards. I, on the other hand, did my teeth and grabbed my stuff before going down at 7:25. There was yet another tour group at breakfast. I don't know that I've mentioned that there seems to have been at least one new tour group each day and we've seen them going to dinner in the hotel the way we did on a German tour last summer. I figure that they are told they are staying in the Brugge (Bruges) area, which this sort of is.
Anyway, we were out of the hotel at 7:47 and at Thermae at 7:55. We had to look around a little to find the tour group, but we did have time for a last pit stop before heading for the bus at 8:05. K did not know anyone else on the bus, which is unusual for him. We had to sit around waiting for 3 Australians and finally left without them at 8:18. I couldn't believe they blew off that much money! There was a young volunteer from the ClarinetFest staff at the front, but he gave no greeting, nor did he really say anything to the bus.
We started off along the road along the shore and I could point out to K where I'd been yesterday. Then, we turned and headed inland. I enjoyed looking at the area, which had a lot of apartment buildings and a few single family homes. But, unfortunately, bus rides put me to sleep.
At 9:20, we arrived in Zonnebeke, where a former mayor boarded the bus. He was going to tell us about the area. I soon came to believe, that like Germany, they prefer locals to be the tour guides. Anyway, we got out of the bus at the Memorial Museum Passchendaele 1917, which was a new place for me. It was warm as we walked past outbuildings to the main house that was now the museum. We waited on the steps, while the ClarinetFest volunteer got tickets and booklets for us. Passchendaele is an area of the town of Zonnebeke and the museum is located where a major battlefield had been in 1917. It was one of the most horrific battles of World War I with 500,000 casualties to gain a mere 80 kilometers of territory. It was one of five battles of Ypres. The museum's website claims that it became a symbol of the futility of the violence of the war. Certainly gaining so little territory at the cost of so many lives is the definition of that. The chateau houses many, many exhibits with uniforms, artifacts, video, etc. to let young(we saw what seemed to be a tour group of British teenage girls) and old come to understand the war. You start on an upper floor and work your way down to under the building to experience the dugouts the men lived in, which seemed truly miserable. You exit that into actual trenches dug outside. You have to go back inside to visit the shop, which, of course, features items with poppies ("In Flanders' fields the poppies grow..." says the poem). The museum is on a trail that links WW I sites.
We were not given nearly enough time for this- 1 hour 15 minutes, which started as we exited the bus. The museum itself would take longer than that to truly absorb, and one has to factor in restroom time. K and I do not stick together as a usual thing in museums and only saw each other occasionally in this one. I skipped videos and just photographed uniforms without studying them. I was drawn to items about daily life. Even though it meant going down stairs, I did go into the Dugout Experience, because it was the best way to understand that claustrophobic life, albeit in a cleaner way than the actual ones. The trenches were a unique experience and I was sorry that I could not check them out a little more thoroughly. I really wish we'd had more time here, because I feel I don't know as much about this war as I should during its anniversary time period.
I found K around the trenches and reminded him of the time. I was finishing in the shop, when he came in. We got to the bus at 10:38, but still had to wait for others. We found out that the three people we'd left behind were a family, who thought we were to meet at 9. Luckily, someone from ClarinetFest drove them to join us. When we got on the bus it was quite hot and the air had little time to improve when we left at 10:50, because it was only about 8 minutes to our next stop.
We'd driven through a nice residential stretch to reach Tyne Cot Cemetery, or more precisely, Tyne Cot Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery and Memorial to the Missing. It is the largest cemetery for Commonwealth soldiers anywhere in the world. The land is a former farm and, in fact, it is mostly surrounded by that farm still today. K and I started in the Visitor's Center, which was not here when the girls and I visited. Inside and out, for that matter, you can here the names of the dead being read by a young woman. There are displays inside about the land and how it was given to be British territory for their dead. One story that sticks with me is of the farm wife years after the war doing her windows and the earth suddenly dropping her 6 feet down, unharmed, into a German dugout that no one had known was there. It was duly photographed and sealed up again. Human remains continue to be found in the countryside.
We then headed down a bit of a lane next to the cemetery so as to enter it from the farm lane entrance, with its broad view of the cemetery, rather than the parking lot and its obstructed view due to walls. It is quite something to see it from that end.
More than 11,900 British Empire servicemen- and 4 Germans- are buried here. Row upon row of white headstones with flowers or green plants in front of each. The land is British, but tended by Belgian master gardeners. A volunteer told us that there is actually a pattern to the plantings. As I recall, every six rows have the same pattern of 5 different plantings that repeat within the rows. There is heather at the end of every row. It is truly a beautiful spot and wonderful that 100 years on, it is still being carefully tended.
In the center is the Cross of Sacrifice atop what had been a German blockhouse. Two German pillboxes are also part of the design.
The young British woman showed us what she considers to be the most fascinating headstone, which was that of a pacifist, who still felt he must serve. While the Commonwealth had each stone engraved with the name, the dates, and the unit, families sometimes paid for an inscription. Supposedly, the young man's aunt had paid for this one. It is wonderful and touched many of my friends on Facebook.
K was having a hard time here. He never served in the military, but did have a low draft number. He was just lucky that the Vietnam War was winding down, when he graduated from high school. Nonetheless, this cemetery really touched him. So, I stayed close. We both agreed that it was pretty bad that kids-including those British girls from the museum-were climbing over the Cross of Sacrifice and sitting up there. We found the Australian family trying to find the memorial to the Australians, but we just found New Zealand.
We got back on the bus at 11:45. Within five minutes there was actually a bit of sun! In order to show the difference between the British and German cemeteries, we stopped at Langemark German Military Cemetery at 12:07. What a stark place and so somber in colors! There are oak trees, the national tree of Germany. The stones are all dark and flat to the ground. Many are marked as unknown. There is a standing stone for some British soldiers buried there. There is a statue of 4 mourning soldiers done by Munich sculptor Emil Krieger, which was based on a 1918 photograph. It is quite striking. There are 44,294 soldiers buried here. Inside the entrance, there was a book to sign on one side. The other side has thousands of names of soldiers whose remains are unidentified. A website - volksbund.de - was posted, which currently gives the day's date and the names of the people killed that day 100 years ago. You can also search for graves there. There are giant blocks surrounding a mass grave of some 25,000 soldiers. The blocks have panels with names on them, that I suddenly realized were in alphabetical order. I did not have time to search for my maiden name, but I did see my grandmother's, Wenger. There are 3000 students turned soldiers buried here, who died in the First Battle of Ypres. All in all, a depressing, but important, stop.
We headed off again at 12:20. We were now able to recognize any British cemetery we passed, and there were several during the day, by its giant white Cross of Sacrifice. As we went around a roundabout, we noticed a statue of Mary draped in the Belgian flag, no doubt for the World Cup. I also noted that when I snapped the photo, my camera noted the location as "Madonna"!
By 12:35, we were getting off the bus in Poperinge to go to Talbot House. Here, we were told, we would have a lunch of soup and bread. Instead, we found quite a spread laid out for us to help ourselves. There was soup, salad, tuna salad, meat, cheese, beautiful rolls and bread, yogurt, fruit and even dessert. Some of us sat in the dining room, others outside. It gave us a chance to chat.
After lunch, the man who managed the house, which is now a bed and breakfast, agreed to give us a tour. The house stood behind the lines during the war. It was started as a club by a chaplain named Talbot, who wanted it to be a respite for the British troops. All soldiers, regardless of rank, were welcome. It was known as "Every Man's Club". There was no alcohol and no women. (He was, in fact, trying to get them away from prostitutes.) There was music. They could write a letter or read or sit in the lovely garden. He turned the topmost floor into a chapel. There was even a small organ.
I had admired and photographed the tile in the kitchen. It turned out to be hops, because the original owner was a grower. During WW II, the Germans occupied the house, but it had been emptied of everything. It was important for the Germans to occupy it as a demoralizing move.
After the tour, we had time to roam in the small museum and stop in the shop. I found two postcards which each had a pin attached, as well as two plain postcards.
When we left at 3, there were a few high, wispy clouds. We didn't have far to go and at 3:28 reached Ypres, where we visited In Flanders Fields Museum, which is in the old Cloth Hall on the Market Square.
We were each given a poppy bracelet to put on, which would activate various exhibits. After climbing the steps to the second floor, where a docent pointed out an elevator I could have used, you get matched to an individual from that time and follow their story throughout the museum. So many interactive and regular exhibits! I skipped the film, but did take the time to hear about the Christmas truce from the perspective of 4 soldiers of different nationalities including German. I, of course, did not climb to the bell tower, but neither did K. There were just too many exhibits. There was a large room devoted to the archaeology of the war. Oddly, there was no mention of the poem for which the place was named.
I lost track of K at some point and searched the whole museum, before going to the ground floor, where I found him near the shop. After a quick restroom break, I flew through the shop, buying pins of flowers. I knew they were important and just figured I'd figure out what each was at home through Google. We were outside on time and on the bus at 5:44.
That was a short ride! At 5:50, we were off the bus to cross the street and walk out to Pacific Eiland Restaurant on an island in the river on one side of Ypres. Here, we would have a dinner that was pre-planned, but we could choose and pay for our own beer. We were led through the restaurant to a seating area under umbrellas outside. It was rather pleasant to sit out there.
I ordered La Trappe Blond Tripel 33 cl for 5 Euros. K ordered Ramée Amber 33 cl for 4,40. The dinner concerned me, because we had a couple of Israelis on the tour and the meat was ham. However, they were given a vegetarian option. We also had fingerling potatoes, green beans, a cooked 1/2 tomato, and broccoli with cream sauce. It was all quite good and all-you-can-eat. They brought the vegetables out in bowls and brought refills. We were seated near a guy from England, one from Australia and one from the states. The food was delicious and the conversation lively.
I timed my restroom stop correctly. As I was leaving a horde of teenage girls, maybe the ones from earlier in the day, came in. At 7:15, we set off to walk through town to the Menin Gate. It was a pleasant walk, if fast.
We still arrived to find a large crowd, too large to see over or through. This was the part my husband had been looking forward to, The Last Post at 8 pm. This bugle call has been done here every evening since the 1920's to show respect and to remember the soldiers, who died. (It was shifted to England during German occupation in WW II, but was resumed here the day Polish forces liberated the town, even though there was heavy fighting in other parts of town.) They had a group of young people participate and we saw a poppy wreath. It is quite solemn and they have a sign and tell you at the beginning to keep silent and not applaud. The gate itself is inscribed with the names of British Empire- other than New Zealand and Newfoundland- missing soldiers up to August 15, 1917, the rest being listed at Tyne Cot. NZ and Newfoundland have separate memorials. It is really impressive that so long after the end of the war, they are still honoring the memory of the British Empire's soldiers who died for them. "We will remember them," we could here them say.
It was finished at 8:10 and we had until 8:30 to get on the bus. That was no time for the chocolate shop, but I asked the volunteer about a restroom. I was told that I would have to go to one of the pubs and expect to pay a Euro. I went to the nearest one and walked in purposefully. I saw a sign on the bar pointing to the restrooms, so I didn't have to ask. Back there, there was a sign that it was in fact 2 Euros. There was no one there to collect. I did pull out a coin and put it in my pocket. However, once again, I walked purposefully through the place, looking neither right nor left, and got out without anyone asking for payment.
The group was not where I'd left them, but I soon saw K walking along the river with them to the bus. He said, he thought I knew, where it was. If I had not seen them, I would not have found them. There were so many buses!
We were on the road at 8:30. We were treated to the sight of hot air balloons.
I paid attention to some of the countryside, but I also dozed. We were back at Thermae Palace at 9:40 after a full, educational, sobering day. The woman was there to greet us and ask, if we'd enjoyed it. K thanked her again as we said good-bye. We decided to take one more short walk on the promenade to our street and see one last sunset. The clouds were gathering and it was cold.
When we got back to the hotel at 10:05, the main order of business was to finish packing. Tomorrow would be another early day.
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