Where the Poppies Grow

Now other typing is out of the way I’ll attempt to do justice to Flanders Fields. Writing this I wish I had the same way with the written word as William Gibson, he is a true wordsmith and the detail in his writing is fine whilst not being boring, so I’m going to do another re-edit to see if we can get something decent.

We went with a tour, it was probably the only way to do it. The Flanders Fields region is so spread out, (as wars tend to be) and there is so much history behind small farms and hills that to do it by yourself you would miss a lot of the experience. Doing anything with a tour group is risky, it could have been really tacky, and it wouldn’t really have been a surprise if they had capitalised on the war. But the guide was very good, the whole experience was, it was as tasteful as possible.

I still don’t really have a handle on the whole WWI politics, and events. From what I understand the Germans and some of their allies were getting edgy and wanted a little more land. As such they took an assassination as their chance and began their expansion. The reason it got so big seemed to be because the countries that were being invaded were friends with other countries and everyone joined in because someone else did. And for some reason Flanders was one of the main battle fields, because it was the best way into France from what I could tell (Switzerland was too mountainous for them), and the Flanders region was vital to the Germans, and the Allies. I gathered that if Flanders had fallen the war itself may have had a different outcome. So that’s my attempt at Background without any research.

We were on a bus with a whole bunch of Australians, and a few English. To side track a little, it was the first time id heard ‘Australian’ spoken for about 2 months, it was fantastic to hear the accent again. Theres something relaxing and natural about your own accent. There was one American we saw the whole time, I have the suspicion that they have a very different attitude to the war to us.

Most of the morning was spent in thick fog, so we missed the geography and seeing where everything was. But Flanders is such a flat area that a hill 60m high was actually a vital strategic position and as such changed hands 4 times during the war. And there was a ridge that was also very important. A ridge I will proudly state that Australians did a damn good job of blowing up from underneath.

We visited many memorials, all with a solemn beauty. There was a certain hush over all the areas we visited, sounds were somehow muted, and there was a great deal of respect that emanated from the visitors and everything in the areas. Although there was a lot of sadness, to that had been added a very soft beauty that felt like it was saying: although this was such a waste, we shall make beauty from loss whilst praying that this loss is never repeated. As I say doing justice in words is hard.

There was a memorial to the 10s of thousands of Canadians who had been killed in gas attacks, attacks that still have repercussions today because of the horrific nature of the stuff they used.

There were some lovely memorials to the Kiwis, and it was only seeing some of the memorials that I realised how far the war had reached into the Commonwealth. How strong the sense of duty to Queen and Country was, and I don’t know that it is such a strong force anymore. If another war like it came would the response be the same that it was then? I cant imagine John Howard saying ‘The Queens says we have to come, so lets rock’, shame really I think she might just have a little more sense than Bush.

We also of course visited the graveyards. I think the saddest thing is all the graves marked ‘A Soldier of the Great War, Known Unto God’. These are the soldiers who have no name, no regiment, no country, they were never identified and their parents died not knowing if their son was found. But although unknown they are all awarded a full military funeral. The others, if known, have the country crest on them. The Kiwis have the fern, and the Aussies have the rising sun, and on some the families have added a motto. Whether RIP or ‘He died that we might live’. There are green fields filled with these white Head Stones. How the defenders are treaded differently to the attackers is interesting though, for the Allies every soilder found is awarded a milatry funeral. For the attackers, or Germans, they are in 4 mass graves, which to me seems such a cold thing to do, but that’s the strength of the war, the hatred that was borne of it.

We happened to be at one of the Graveyards when there was a burial of 5 Australian Soldiers. Two named, three unknown. It happened to be quite a big deal, with pollies from home coming and representatives from the families and press.
We happened to see the soldiers practicing, and then carrying two of the coffins. It wasn’t quite the solemnity one would quite have expected during the practice. They were not exactly the best of the best, there was some trouble marching together, in time which was strangely comical, I was just sooo proud of our armed forces, we cant even march. And the comment ‘see how difficult it is in these bloody uniforms?’ drifted across the field, but the actual procession itself was more ‘proper’. It was nice to see these men, 90 years gone, but still deserving and receiving a dignified burial.

The strongest thing we saw was the memorial where almost all the names of the unidentified soldiers of the commonwealth, the ones who were never found, are engraved. It is a huge white arch over a road. This indeed would have been a sobering thing, because of the shear number of names, and the familiarity of the names, aside from one point. An amazing infestation of ladybugs. It is rather hard to be solemn when you are being attacked on all fronts by ladybugs. On your socks, under the shoe, in your hair and all over your clothes, its just not proper, I always thought that there was something suspicious about lady bugs, they just look sinister. Being attacked by them at a memorial did nothing to alleviate this belief.

It was sad to see the horrible number of deaths, but simultaneously the world may have turned out a much more unstable place if the war had not been fought. Its hard to balance the futility of war with the pride that we did fight even though it was so far away. Sadly it was not the war to end war, and it also showed how commanders think. “the details are not important”. So often we are shown numbers that are incomprehensible, ‘a quarter of a million men died within x no. of hrs’ in one battle the allies lost 36 men for every meter they gained on the Germans. “the details are not important” we can just think of it as numbers as opposed to as individual lives that were just wiped out. Its probably the only way we can comprehend it though, and possibly comprehending it wouldn’t actually be a good thing.

“For want of a nail the horseshoe was lost
For want of a horse shoe the horse was lost
For want of a horse the messenger was lost
For want of a messenger the message was lost
For want of a message a battle was lost
For want of a battle the war was lost
For want of a war a kingdom was lost
And all for the want of a horse shoe nail”

So maybe the details are important.

It was beautiful, and sad, and old, and in many cases incomprehensible as these men who died were my age. My friends age. And they died for ideals. For a concept that didn’t exist. For dignity and honor, and duty. “He died that we might live” They died so that war never happened again.

‘They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.’