RUINS OF RHEIMS.

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume LXXVII, Issue LXXVII, 15 May 1919, Page 4

RUINS OF RHEIMS.

THE DEVASTATED COUNTRYSIDE

(From R. Biley, Official Journalist.) All +W I'AK-IS, March 13. in thA «?? + WaS once *air and famous in the oid town ot Rheims is now an appalling ruin. Prussian warfare his changed beauty and prosperous activity ton HUgly df° latio^ and has in vanton destruction maue the rare monuments of the past grotesque mockeries ot contemporary civilisation moCKCnes Only one or two impressions can bo hrsteST leUCe Ot auyo"e "ho > *o*the orttheSeS P e tmei' geS aoni «"»'shadows wi> Trf t, h i>Ot ttlleims and > the top ot tne nil! witn a level nlafpsm l^ i'ond, suddenly sees agii s { the low Horizon tne remnants of the battered town and tne shattered cathedral we? withTn^nt 1^ cou^' siae stiil iitSSd. with tne means and marks of scientific military destruction. Une must according to temperament, either have "a great inclination to cry" or an?,n S? DaT e th O T l6-,^ n^ that caused all the terrible destruction wfthfn 1?^ 1"1^ tOrni S tOuls all tle UCland Sr°iT 6 tnp V and flom Rhe^« by m r°UteS last Sunda-V l^arcn bl and although the journey by motor was long and rough/ eve^kilometre of teresl 7 *" Wlth Mst°ric *"

w*\T tHard + way fr°m Paris led towaids the picturesque valley of the Marne and even under a grey sky and a. wind representing a comp/omise between winter and spring, all the land from *£"¥ Ul ,in- k* c^P^te ti^ lw ai' h°riZOn to tne roadside, whence one saw all the thorough preparation tor the coming seafon of growth and a peaceful harvest The S^ lden°es ? f tne war that has blighted so much of fair France were many grim and varied means of detenoe. A httie beyond the walls of I'aris for example, we saw the elaborate anti-aircraft defences with the barskv hL 8?^ gf S scaumng the wide sky like the telescopes of innocent astronomers;-a few miles (it is easier to write than kilometres) farther on by cross-roads or on the fringe of copse/, Imge guns, all pointing to the northeast; next aerodromes set in the midst ot wide held\ now rapidly yielding their green turf to, the eager plought and then, nearer the zone of havoc and desolation, great depots for munitions and war material, now guarded apparently only by a solitary sentry with a cane. Many of the veteran soldiers of Jjranee whoa year ago were desperately holding back the tide of Prussian militarism less than forty miles away from the vineyards in v.-nich, we saw so many at work are now usefully armed with spades or secateurs, their garb representing the transition stage between war and peace—trousers of sky-blue hue, and the coarse jersey or corduroy jacket of the French peasant. lhe children alone maintain in the zone of peace the martial spirit, for they have commandeered with pride the military caps, and the great-coats (roughly reduced to their size by frugal mothers) of their fathers. There are times "when sadness is better than gladness." •

The edge of destruction and desolation was reached a little beyond the rich valley near La Ferte, where our way turned abruptly from the winding Marne, and led -uphill through Montreuil and Le Thielet towards ChateauThierry. Here, within a score of miles, we ran through ruined and deserted villages, looking like nothing else than great warehouses wrecked by earthquake and fire. Many of the ruins were without life at all, even the crows and sparrows having gone the way of the refugees. The pathos of the people's hurried flight was occasionally revealed by the rude exposure of the remnants of simple domestic life; sometimes a teapot among debris on a hob, occasionally an oleograph clinging to a shattered wall, with a weather-stained Madonna staring pathetically at the ruins below. In the few villages where people have returned to their old haunts like homing pigeons the women and children still have the pinched look of a war-rationed race.

On the bend of the road leading down to Chateau-Thierry the savagery of the warfare in and about that ruined town is brought vividly to the imagination of passers-by by the number and variety of graveyards. The pathos of it all is frequently enhanced by the lonely mounds, marked with crude crosses, by the roadside. At many places, when snow lies deep on the rough paths by the cobbled highway, pedestrians may stumble over a Prus-. sian's grave. In savage warfare the choice of a, cemetery is often capricious. Chateau-Thierry bears severe evidence of the destructiveness of modern warfare, but the damage is trivial compared with that beyond Dormans, near the junction of the Marne and the Semeigne rivers, and onward to the east as far as Epernay, and north-east to Rheims, the climax —as' far as this theatre of war was concerned —of wanton destruction and heart-breaking

ruin. o

There was special interest in our visit to Epernay, where the marks of war are upon almost every house. It was near Epernay in July, 1918, that General Godley, as Commander of the 22nd Army Corps, had his headquarters. To this corps were attached the New Zealand Cyclists' Corps add a detachment of the New Zealand Mounted Rifles. These fine troops were very prominent in the heavy fighting which took place in the Valley of the Ardre, on the left of the Forest of Rheims, on the southern slopes of the Montagne d' Rheims, the N.Z. .Cyclists particularly distinguishing themselves in taking'the village of Marfaux. In recognition of their gallant services to France the now happy people of Epernav are presenting our Cyclists with a flag. This information had been communicated by General Godley to the Prime Minister, and a visit was made to Epernay to see the Mayor of the town. Unfortunately, however, Monsieur le Mairie was out of town. The run from Epernay to Rheims w^as right through the centre of a 6ector in which there was bitter warfare last year. Everywhere the countryside revealed results of the desperate fighting and interesting evidences of the elaborate defences of the Allied army. We motored over the "police road" through the heart of the forest of Rheims, where to-day the great silence of the place is broken only by the birds calling welcome to the commg spring. One could see that the forest had been taken over by the British engineers and French artillery, for tne innumerable signposts told a plain but eloquent story. The engineers had cut many new' roads through the forest, which appeared to have been divided into different sections for various grades of artillery- These roads are as straight as though their perfect alignment had been determined in the leisure of peace. But now they are deserted, already Nature threatens to break the n© wit3i eager branches. Many of th*» gieat guns are still in the shadows of the forest, hidden from the eye of passers-by, but in open places by the roadside 'huge stacks of all sizes of potent shells lie unguarded ._ Occasionally, however, a shaggy poilu emerges from the "wood as though to remind intruders ithat the official eye of frugal

France is not slumbering. From th» brow of the Montagu© d'Rheims one commands a prospect that formerly wa#> famous; miles ot productive vineyardiand cornland, and in the dietancfc* high above all, llheims Cathedral, a monument of 'the devout past, serving, as n .spiritual landmark for an indnfitrious people. All that ha 6 been changed by the war, and restoration ofmuch of the former beauty of the placemay never be achieved.

All the approaches to Rheims leadthrough a labyrinth of military contrivances and devastation. The neglected vineyards and farm lands are pitted witih shell-holes, and scored and scarred with tortuous trenche6; there are scores of mazes of barbed-wire defences; the banks flanking the roadfl' are as terraces of dug-outs; the ribbon. of trees on either side of the highway is torn and mangled; the camouflage screens of ivy strung along the treea that escaped the blast of shells now look like the tawdry trappings of a bankrupt theatre; graves and roughhewn cresses are as thick as Californian thistles on a neglected colonial farm. A line in somewhat "tabooed" literature best expresses the feelings «f any sensitive witness of this havoc Of war—"And the soul of the man went weeping across the marshes."

The town of liheims is little more than a ghastly heap of smaeihed rubble and rubbish. Only a few buildings are habitable, aud even these appear to hold peril for the pinched inhabitant© ■—mostly caretakers—for no building completely escaped the hurricane of high explosives. But one's attention and one's pity always come back to the battered.and broken cathedral, with (as Stevenson would have said) "the day showing through its shattered ribs." The sole civil activity amidst the ruins of the town is the peddling of picture postcards showing, at high prices, the past glories of the place. It was interesting to note that one .series of such cards reveal the fact that the Huns were encamped for eight days in September, 1914, before the then beautiful cathedral. The grandeur of Rheims has gone, but its nobility will live forever in history, for on the shattered towers of the ruined cathedral, high above the tier of saints and angels in carved stone, now a pitiful array of sculpture made grotesque by . shell-fire, wave proudly and defiantly in the keen, clean spring wind of a tolerant heaven the flags of the free nations. These ■symbols-of honor, liberty, and the love of lovely things, offer the only consola■tin amidst the ruins of Rheims. And these ruins are as nothing if^compared with those in the north of France. And yet, and yet, at this wonderful .Peace Conference there are so-called great men who would preach forgiveness of our enemies.