ARMENTIERES AGAIN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 20792, 7 February 1931, Page 1 (Supplement)

ARMENTIERES AGAIN.

REVISITING OLD SCENES.

BY WILLIAM GILMOUR,

It was to satisty an impulse 10 iouk upon the war-ravaged country of 1916-17 end to see Mademoiselle again—but I will only speak for myself —that led two diggers to St. Pancras station toward the end of September, there to book cheap returns at £1 16s 8d for Armentieres. Thames barges, shore lights and the mugginess of midnight down by Tilbury were followed by a calm passage and the revolving beams of the tall Dunkerque phare, whose searching arms of light gave place to tho grey, dawn of a bleak morning. The port gives ono the impression of big business. Towering above the forest of funnels and masts cranes of all dimensions were silhouetted against the leaden sky. Its importance was certainly apparent to the Germans, for Dunkirk received seven thousand five hundred and fourteen projectiles during the period 19141918, as the illustrated plan affixed to tho base of the ancient belfry testifies. Eithzr our dopiness after a wakeful night or the interest of passing through country which had been painfully trodden over with hobnailed boots and packs was responsible for our omission to change at Hazebrouck, so we were taken south of the Foret de Nieppe to Berguette, which increased the journey to Armentieres by passing through St. Venant, _ Merville, Estaires, Laventie and Sailly, instead of going direct by Bailleul. The railway station at Armentieres was always considered an unhealthy spot for tho troops, and the feeling came back as we deposited our suit-cases in tho cloakroom and trod tho cobbles again. _ No doubt tho miserable weather contributed to our mental depression as wo revisited the old billets; but tho city itself seemed to bo half dead, and its streets almost as empty as they were when wo arrived in May, 1916. Then, at least, the mobile soldier was walking the rues in twos, tens and twenties, whose quips and jests enlivened the air. Its Lost Population. Notwithstanding the magnificent now Hotel de Ville and the rebulit Church of St. Vaast, with conspicuous white steeple, around which a creditable clearance of old houses has been effected, the town seems to speak of its lost popula» tion. Before the war there were thirtytwo thousand inhabitants; to-day the number is only two-thirds of that figure. At the western end of the town another church, that, of Notre Dame de Sacre Coeur, has also been rebuilt, and in place of tho single " clocher" that was shattered by five-nines in July, 1916, owing to its being used as an observation post, two insignificant spires of pink stone stand to-day. Tho brasserie of Motte-Cordonnier in tho centro of the town has never been rebuilt, and one glance within its ruined walls brings back all the horrors of war in an instant. Tho business, however, seems to havo taken new life in the huge brewery just west of the city. But w-here was tho pleasant, plump and " vivo" mademoiselle who ran the tearoom over the way ? Gone, but not forgotten, for. although her business, carried on in tho shop known as " Bee Auer," is now transformed for the mundane sales of onions and carrots; we could picture her comely form behind the counter or dispensing with smiling face a frugal repast of indifferent cakes, good coffee and the worst lea I ever tasted. The only novelty on the road to Nieppe is the new concrete bridge that spans tho sluggish Lys, on the further bank of which stands the red-brick skeleton of the " baths." " All clothes off here " is still legible on the wall of the receiving room, but there is little else to revive tho lively picture of naked diggers of lusty physique splashing about in huge circular vats of piping hot water. The long, straight road that leads from Armentieres to Nieppe ends to-day in a very fine white chateau with slate roof that speaks of refinement and cash to spend upon it. Across the way is the " mairie " and also tho new church; so the ruinous shelling that took place during the last year of the war has not been altogether valueless. Nieppe village was our (No. 3 N.Z.Amb.) first stopping place in the spring of 1917, and here a buxom, healthy-minded, honest woman afforded us the luxurious accommodation of bedrooms and sheets, to which, as privates, we were not .entitled. Against all inquiries by men with stars on their sleeves who desired lodging she maintained a loyally deaf ear. It was little wonder, then, that we sought her abode after fourteen years and rejoiced to learn that she lived within a biscuit throw of tho old site. Her effusiveness and welcome need but a reference, but it was very apparent that, though tho French nation holds a heavy supply of gold, little of that commodity finds its way into the home of Maria Axez. Plugstreet and Messines. A milo or so north of Nieppe lies " Plugstreet " village, then the limit of tho civilian population, or, rather, the point beyond which no farmer dared work his land. And, as we passed the old familiar landmarks, we pulled up close by tho cottage from which, during a particularly hot strafe, the old farmer, his faithful wife, daughter, son and dog had fled for their lives at midnight. From the summit of Hill 63 Messines could be seen at peace with the world. Well do I recollect watching from the same spot a bombardment by British guns of all calibres. The effect was terrible. Within a few minutes of the landing of the first shell the whole town was one vast cloud of grey dust and smoke, through which from time to time, like tho fiery uprush from an active volcano, there shot skyward fountains of red brick dust. But to-day this countryside shows little sign of the Great War. Our six-inch guns no more vibrato the air with their winged challenged .and, in place of the sickening sweetness of Fritz's mustard gas with which tho fertile fields were impregnated,. the scent of clover rises to tho nostrils and tall poles swathed with drying haricot beans, fields of tobacco and barns full of hay emphasiso the indestructibility and fecundity of the earth. Behind the Line. It was a relief to return to oases of calm comfort behind tho line. Autumn sunshino bathed us as wo descended from the train at tho sleepy little village of Thiennes and directed our steps toward the Forest of Nieppe. Madame, in whoso " grange " and " grenier " wo had soundly slept on straw or buried in hay, took an appreciable time to place us, but recog nition came at length and with it black coffee and a " taste." Then in came from the fields tho boy of four, now eighteen, ripe for tho next war! with his grey-haired father, whose certificate of " having taken part in tho battles of Verdun "■ hung upon tho wall. But the reunion was not all joy and, while madame clasped the huge flat loaf to her ample breast to cut tartines for us again, her eyes were moist at the thought of ono who was absent. Wo crossed the road and took the greon forest track, carpeted with moss and wild strawberry vines, that leads to the canal on tho north of tho forest. Through the boughs of oak and ash the sun filtered and blazed in patches of light upon our path. It was too inviting to resist, so we stripped and lay in the hot beams for an hour, while pheasants on tip-toe eyed us curiously, and the deer fled at sight of our unwelcome forms. Through tho leafy avenue tho white-walled estaminet could bo seen, our last glimpse of ou;- initial billeting village .in La Bello France.