Ypres: A Town Remembers | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Ypres: A Town Remembers | Previous Challenge Entry
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11/12/14
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Today, as I pinned my poppy onto my jumper, I remembered Ypres.

***

I already had a connection with Ypres through my great-grandfather, who served there at Hellfire Corner. Like the town he fought to save, he came out of the war injured for life, but alive. As an A level history student, I was travelling to see this town. Little did I realise how Ypres would remain with me, long after I went home.

The landscape just outside Ypres was bleak and riddled with shell craters. Rats scuttled past us as we trudged knee-deep through freezing mud, passing an occasional warning sign alerting travellers to the dangers of hidden eighty-year-old bombs. We thought our experience of the trenches was rough. In reality, our wellies, thick coats, clean clothing and fresh food made our experience of the trenches extremely sanitised when compared to my great-grandfather’s, for whom the squalid living conditions posed as great a threat as the shells.

But then came the gravestones... row upon row, field after field of them. Many were the same age as us – or younger. All laddish banter from the coach journey was instantly silenced by the ubiquitous inscription, ‘Known unto God’.

Ypres acquired the nickname ‘Wipers’ during World War I after shelling, gas attacks and prolonged fighting left thousands of civilians dead and the town in ruins. Even its magnificent medieval Cloth Hall was not spared. Not surprisingly, Ypres became synonymous with the horrors of World War I. Over eighty years later many buildings still bear its legacy; I could see from changes in the brickwork where the ruins ended and the rebuilding began.

Right in the very centre of town, the now-rebuilt Cloth Hall stood proud and regal like a fairytale castle. It told the world that regardless of the terrible things that happened, the true love of Ypres’ townspeople had ensured that, one day, the town would be alive and well again.

The story of Ypres continued inside. Its first chapter was the glass frontage, lovingly preserving the names of thousands of civilians killed. The story moved to the exhibition, whose chapters contained poignant stories of ordinary individuals, who had rubbed shoulders every day with those people commemorated, and then witnessed the destruction of everything dear to them. Yet, in the next chapter, these same people rebuilt Ypres, and the story concludes with their successors continuing their work today by promoting international peace and reconciliation.

I could not enter and leave that building the same person.

The day concluded with joining in the daily act of remembrance at the Menin Gate. It was harder to say what left a greater impression; the colossal archway preserving the names of thousands of lost service personnel with no known grave, or the cry of the ‘Last Post’ emanating from its heart. Every evening since 1928 to the present day (except during Nazi occupation), whatever the weather, traffic halts... Life pauses as the grateful town stands in solidarity with its liberators; ordinary men like my great-grandfather, whose lives, like Ypres’, were forever changed by war. I see clearly how and why, for Ypres, remembrance is a way of life. Not hero-worshipping, mawkishness, self-pity or bitterness; just a desire to promote an alternative to war and violence.

***

I always intended to go back to Ypres. Finally, this autumn, I returned with my family. With a toddler in tow, we couldn’t experience the trenches or the Menin Gate. We didn’t go exploring graveyards either; what we saw from the car was enough. Seeing the graves of teenagers as a seventeen-year-old had been horrendous. Now, as the mother of a teenager, it just did not bear thinking about.

But I did show them the Cloth Hall. After playing in the fountains, we admired the building and then walked around the exhibition, along with people of all ages, creeds and ethnicities.

I’m glad my older children got to experience Ypres. They saw the dreadful reality of war for all sides concerned; as my son remarked,

‘There weren’t any baddies in the war. Everyone suffered really badly.’

However, Ypres’ mission to promote peace and reconciliation also showed them the alternative of repaying evil with a blessing (1Peter:3:9 NIV).

I hope this year, and every year, as my children pin their poppies onto their jumpers, they too will think of Ypres, their great-great-grandfather and his comrades, and someday understand the true price of the peace and freedom that we enjoy today.

Author’s note:
Information sources:
http://www.greatwar.co.uk/events/menin-gate-last-post-ceremony.htm
http://www.greatwar.co.uk/ypres-salient/memorial-menin-gate.htm
Bible reference from NIV, www.biblegateway.com

For Great-Granddad Bill and his comrades, with thanks.

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