Ever since taking history in high school, I have always been interested in touring the WWI trenches that serpentine through Europe's lowlands. On my most recent trip--third time's a charm!--the scheduling finally worked out to fit in a 3 day jaunt to Flanders. Although there are numerous historic towns and battle sites to visit, I ultimately decided on Ypres and a tour of the city's north salient with Flanders Battlefield Tours.
After swapping trains in the picturesque Lille, we arrived in Ypres to an overcast sky and a light drizzle. As much as I hate the rain, it was very fitting for the day ahead. Our first stop was the In Flanders Fields Museum, located in the restored Ypres Cloth Hall. As an experienced European museum goer, I don't lightly say that this is the best one I have seen. It had appropriate information, excellent artifacts, great interactive features, and most importantly, you got a true sense of what life in the war was like. By the end of it I was moved. Despite the horrors presented, the most memorable and chilling part of the exhibit was the concluding room: writing on the wall which listed the number of conflicts that have occurred since "the war to end all wars." Nothing puts WWI into the greater perspective more than the realization that similar atrocities are being committed around the world on a daily basis.
Our guided tour certainly maintained the somber pace of the day. Our first stop was Essex farm, most famously remembered as the site where John McCrae wrote "In Flanders' Fields." Other notable features include triage bunkers, and a Commonwealth cemetery. Next we went to see Langemark, one of the few remaining German cemeteries on Belgian soil. Distinct from its Ally counterparts, Langemark does not attempt to glorify the deeds of its inhabitants. The most shocking aspect is the mass grave in the centre, which contains all the unknown soldiers, buried on top of one another due to space limitations. The last cemetery we visited was the biggest in the region: Tyne Cot. Unlike the first two burial grounds, Tyne Cot is astonishingly large, stretching so far that the tombstones along the boundaries look like mere pebbles in the field. It was impossible to walk away from here without some sense of dread, and yet, those interred here represented only a fraction of the total casualties in the war.
Before the end of our tour, we quickly visited the Canadian Memorial at Vancouver Corner, and a small museum put together by historically inclined farm owners on the site of Hill 62. Part of the Hill 62 museum is the trenches that wind along the top of the hill. The whole area reeks of misery; stacks of shell casing, bomb blast craters, and flooded, narrow trenches are present at every turn. Yet despite the physical trauma that this land underwent, the forests have regrown around the scars, and ecological life has continued almost as if those four years never happened.
The same feeling lingers in all of the sites we visited--the trees have returned, the grass had resprouted, and in short, life goes on. This natural pattern echoes the rebuilding of the town of Ypres. After being completely destroyed in the war, the entire town was rebuilt according to the plans that were safely hidden throughout the conflict. To this day, the buildings look as if straight out of medieval Belgium, but in fact, they too have been reconstructed out of the ashes of war. I was left with a sense of appreciation for both humanity's and nature's inherent drive to life.
By the time we were finished, and thus ready to re-enter the town of Ypres and 21st century life, the rain had symbolically stopped. We were able to escape to modern conveniences and sanitation, and to a life without the threat of bombs and bayonets. And for this luxury, I give my thanks to the men (and women) who risked, and continue to risk, their lives on my behalf. I certainly wish there were less wars in this world, and don't always agree with Canada's involvement in other people's conflicts, but what I do know is that regardless of whether the cause is worthy or not, I am truly grateful that I am not the one looking down the enemy's barrel. If nothing else, I left Flanders with a profound sense of Canadian pride, a stronger desire for peace, and a belief in our ability to rise from the ashes of our own mistakes.
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