BATTLEFIELDS OF EUROPE

Otago Witness, Issue 3595, 6 February 1923, Page 7

BATTLEFIELDS OF EUROPE

VISIT TO SOLDIERS’ GRAVES. THROUGH BELGIUM AND FRANCE. SALVATION ARMY’S ACTIVITIES. 'By C. H. M'Leax. It is not a pleasure to visit the cemeteries of Belgium and France, more especially when the visitor has a dear one buried there. Such was our thoughts while roaming over there a few months ago. In the month of June we were in London, and made some arrangements whereby we would visit the scenes of that great war that meant so much to us. Our lad had gone Home in the Wahine when she was taken over by the Imperial Government, and had joined up with a Home regiment, and, like many others, had fallen for King and Country. So we went Home to see his grave in Belgium. When it was known that we were going to take this trip quite a number of people asked us to visit their boy’s grave when we were in Belgium and France. So we had quite a lot of places to visit-. We thought at first of fixing up the arrangements of our tour with some of the companies who cater so weH tor visitors to the Continent, but, on making inquiries, found we would require to give a week’s notice to them. This did not suit us, as we had made arrangements to go on to Scotland on a fixed date, so we had to go on our own. We were not very sure of the result' of this, but we determined to make the most of it. On arrival at Ostend we noticed a Salvation Army officer. Going up to him we inquired if he could recommend us to a good hotel tie asked us how many was in our party. We were escorted through the Customs, and into a motor car, and thence to a hostel owned by the Salvation Army in connection with the Grave Visitation, or, as they term it, Grave Pilgrimages. After a nice tea we had a fine walk round Ostend, which we enjoyed very much. It might be interesting to say a few words about Ostend now. At this time (June) Ostend is very quiet, the summer season not having started, very few of the hotels were open when we went there. Hotel Majestic is one of the most expensive in Ostend, and as it is just on the seafront is a very popular one. The Kursall (Casina) is quite convenient to most hotels, and is a beautiful building. There was a fine concert on when we were there, and the great audience of fashionably dressed people were apparently enjoying' it. We felt inclined to enter and enioy the classical programme submitted, but time did not permit of this. We walked along the seafront as far as the Royal Palace Hotel, and returned again to our hostel. After a good night’s rest wo got up early, and had a ouiet walk through part of the town, then back to the hostel for Breakfast. We caught an early train for Ypres, all arrangements having been made for us by the Salvation Army officers, one of whom travelled with us to Ypres, and one of the Ypres Salvation Army officers, Adjutant Warrington, was wailing for us at the train with a motor car to take us to their hostel at Vlamertinghe. Their building here was a beautiful one, and could accommodate 50 visitors. This hostel was a well-known one during the war, the Tommies had named it Goldfish Chateau, owing' possibly to the great quantity of goldfish that were in the moat surrounding the house. The right name of the house was Rose Chateau, and it is situated just off the main road leading to Poperinghe, and about- midway between Ypres and Vlamertinghe. When we arrived there dinner was being served, and we were quite ready for it. Spending the rest of the day looking about the place, we wandered off the main road into a small cemetery where a good number of New Zealand lads lie buried. This cemetery lies within 10 minutes’ walk from the hotel just to the right of a brickfield. WTiile looking around this locality we came across about 50 3in live shells lying in a gutter on the main road. In fact, we came across similar shells lying about in all directions. On the following morning, shortly after breakfast, we motored to Poperinghe, and from there to Remy Lyssthenthock Cemetery, where our dear one lay buried. We had no difficulty at all in finding his grave—in fact, one has only to know the name of the cemetery that a soldier is buried in, go to the book at the main entrance of the cemetery, turn up the name there, and you will find the regiment and number of the grave of all who lie there. We got to the grave and were standing by with our thoughts away in New Zealand where we had parted last with our dear one, and thinking of the last words spoken by him prior to leaving New Zealand; thinking, too, of the time of possible suffering and hardships which he had endured during those years of fighting, and wondering in our own minds where he js'ot his death-wound. As our thoughts ran riot the tears came to our eyes, then the S.A. officer came up and quietly said a few words of prayer, words that somehow stopped our tears, and when we rose from our knees at our dear one’s

grave we thought of that great reunion when parting will be no more. We had another lad’s grave to visit in this cemetery, a lad who worked beside mo in Hillside Workshops, and on looking at it we thought of the many conversations we had had with him in the past. We remembered him bidding us good-bye. Again the officer approached and offered up a few words of prayer, just in keeping with the occasion. We picked up a few leaves from his grave and put them carefully away to take home to Dunedin to his sorrowing parents. We then inspected a number ot other graves, and took the names of a few Otago lads who are buried here. After dinner we motored round the battlefields of the Ypres salient. Through the town of Ypres, passing the now famous Cloth Hall. Eglise Saint-Martin (St. Martin’s Church). Les Ramparts, the Post Office, the Hospital. Bishop’s House, Hotel de Ville (Town Hall), and Conciergerie—all in ruins. Of course, the town itself was a mass of ruins. No words of mine could convey any idea of the sad havoc wrought in this town and surrounding districts by the enemy. Hundreds of men were then busy rebuilding Ypres, and when we returned in October last it was to find the city practically rebuilt The Cloth Hall has been left in ruins, just enough work put on it to make il safe and the stones and rubbish cleared up. The intention is to leave it that way, as a monument and reminder of the state of Ypres during the war. The inhabitants of this town don’t require this ruin to remind them of the war. God knows, they know it too well. Thousands of old people fled from their homes, leaving their all, their home, and .all that was dear to tfiem, an experience that they are not likely to forget. The Belgians appear to be quite happy now, and one could see them busy working in the fields late and early, as if trying to make up for the past black years. We visited Zillebeke (Bedford mouse Cemetery), British Cemetery e Potyse Chaleau grounds, Transport Farm Cemetery, Oxford Road Cemetery. DuKallow British Cemetery, Perth China Wall Cemetery, etc. All the cemeteries in Belgium and France ara being laid off to a plan, prepared apparently by tlie Imperial Graves Commission, and a number of Britishers are overworking in tbeje cemeteries, preparing and levelling up the. ground ready for the stones to be put in when they arrive from Britain. Me motored to one cemetery in Popcringhe that was finished, and it was beautifully laid off. All the grave stones were in place, and the whole surrounded by a line concrete wall. While writing on this subject, 1 would like To say a few words about the-*/ men who are over from the Homeland, looking after those graves. On several occasions they have done their utmost to help me find out certain graves. I have interrupted them at their lunch hour, and on more thdn one occasion they have left their lunch and have given mo all the assistance within their power. T offered to pay ihem for their trouble, but in every case it was refused. They said they were there to help us. Those are the men who left Home and are living and working hi that (to us, at least) hallowed atmosphere, living amongst the dead, who in life left their homes to fight for King and country that we might be free.