Ypres Salient 4

June 11, early afternoon

Audrey is off to Ghent on the 12:15 train. The towns I love are too small for her, and she is new to chasing poppies, so I’m off in Rennie with a pile of maps and GPS.  It will be fun to hear about her adventures at a late dinner on the Grote Markt square.  I have over a half tank of gas, and head south toward the French border.  This part of Flanders Fields was particularly bloody.  I’m sure to find some ghosts here.

Hill 60.  Tucked away off of a peaceful country road and fronted by some very luxurious homes with gardeners whacking away weeds, this place is different.  Apparently a British family bought the land after the war with the notion it would never be disturbed, never whitewashed into something beautiful. Artificially made from dirt excavated to lay nearby train rails in 1863, it was lumpy and bumpy and clearly disturbed today.  The minute I opened the gate, the wind started blowing. Nobody was inside.  A sheep pen stood inside the edge, under a bending oak tree, and droppings on the creaky boardwalk suggested the sheep are set free at night to keep the grass trimmed.  Despite the weed whacker noise, I could sense the voices I had traveled to hear.  This coveted hill had been early conquered by the Germans, then barely taken over by the Allies, then re-established by the Germans.  By late 1915, it was the most feared region on the front.  Numerous suicide missions and air bombardments occurred, with both sides counterattacking, until the Aussies came in 1917.

An entire Australian engineering brigade spent months tunneling under the German encampment on Hill 60 after the Allies lost control of it, and the Aussies detonated 53,000 lbs. of explosives underneath the Germans on the 7th of June.  This created a crater called Caterpillar.  Within 15 minutes, Allies were charging the hill, but unfortunately, the wind changed and the yellow mustard gas blew back on them.  Many deaths all around.  In July, the worst rainstorm in 30 years dumped inches of rain in the area, stranding tanks.  Horses and men drowned in the mud and were never seen again.  Against this horrific history stood an ancient cherry tree, just behind the monument, surrounded by a slatted wooden pole fence. A large dead branch clung to the side of the tree, and provided a roost for some poppy crosses.  Here I imagined voices and wrote this haiku conversation:

                                                                    I.

                         

                                 Wheat waves a hello.

                         Who lays below grassy lumps?

                                 The cherry tree knows.      

                          

                                                                    II.

                                  The cherry tree speaks:

                          What lays beneath grassy mounds

                                  Cannot wave good-bye.

                                                                     III.

                             Good-bye Hill 60.                 

                                     Speaking volumes for the peace,

                             Silent are your ghosts.

This was a disturbing little park, except for the sleeping sheep.  I had nightmares later.  But look at this tree!  In one little circle, cherries, wheat and rye ripen.  I hope the soldiers enjoyed them, one hundred years ago.

I had to find Palingbeek, where Koen Vanmechelen created ComingWorldRememberMe as a temporary art exhibit out of 600,000 clay busts he designed.  The dogtags from the 600,000 victims represented are temporarily housed in an aquarium case, and will be permanently installed in another sculpture on the grounds.  Artists from all over the world helped create the clay busts over the four year time centenary, in time to be placed here in May. Vanmechelen intended to create "an ode to a new future grounded in our remembrance of the horror and futility of the First World War. The installation symbolizes the rebirth of a hopeful desire for a new and more peaceful world.”  The work is symbolically in niemandsland, or No Man’s Land, between The Bluff (British controlled) and a wooded area controlled by German forces.  For a long time, these trails have been encompassed in the current day Palingbeek Park. It’s a beautiful setting for bikers, hikers, equestrians, and seekers, but perhaps in such a place it is too easy to forget about the war that occurred along the verdant paths. Not today. Crowds were exploring the exhibit, and talking in at least seven languages I recognized.  

Vanmechelen will take apart the art in November, but it’s uncertain where the giant egg and 600,000 busts will go.  If you could view it from overhead, the busts create the shape of Belgium.  The egg is "birthing" more.

Hard to top this afternoon, but I have one more critical find. Will I be able to locate the actual field where a famous soccer game occurred without maps or GPS help?