Membership of the
THE YPRES TIMES
139
postcards, pencil, pull-through and a Japanese mouth organ, and in one grubby
cavity I investigated, I lit the stump of a guttered candle in a cut-open bully tin
still nailed securely to a wall, its meagre light disclosing the plaster walls covered
with names, numbers and their writers' regiments, and a number of examples of
the art of sculpture in the form of cap badges cut into the surface of the soft
plaster, all bearing dates between 1915 and 1917.
Had I been a man of wealth I should have felt disposed to have had those
walls removed intact and brought to a place of safety in England, after the manner
of American millionaires who buy up old mansions and transport them piecemeal
over the Atlantic.
The Ramparts of Ypres are sealed to all comers. At one point a flight of
slimy stone steps leading downwards into the gloomy depths of the interior invited
investigation, but the sunlight outside enhanced the forbidding-looking nature of
the blackness and grime inside to such an extent that further penetration seemed
none too pleasantso I passed on.
An air of inexplicable sadness seemed to pervade the place as I rested, one fine
summer's evening, at the side of the Yperlee, contemplating in retrospect the
aspect of that selfsame place ten years before. Then, scenes of feverish animation
a constant passing to and fro along the mile-long duckboard promenade of khaki-
clad figures—from brigadiers to privates, signallers and stretcher bearers, M.Os.
and machine gunners, infantrymen, trench mortaring and O. Pipping artillery
men, sappers, runners and innumerable other representatives of the heterogeneous
collection of mankind entrusted with the job of holding, inviolate, their portion
of the left-hand bastion of the British line, the paraphernalia of war littering the
landscape, the torn tree-stumps everywhere, and, above all, the seldom-ceasing
growl of gunfire.
Nownature's varied greenery mercifully throwing a mantle over the scars of
battle, wild flowers in profusion, the stunted willows taking on a new lease of life
not a sound except the low murmur of the soft evening breeze gently swaying the
long rushes which fill the canal, and the faint tolling of a deep-toned bell-somewhere
back in reborn Ypres.
The setting sun sheds its last golden rays over the peaceful Flemish country
side, glinting beautifully on the cross of sacrifice away over in Bard Cottage
cemetery, and seemingly bestowing a last lingering caress along the long serried
ranks of white headstones.
E. F. Williams.
This is open to all who served in the Salient,
and to all those whose relatives or friends died
there, in order that they may have a record of
that service for themselves and their descendants,
and belong to the comradeship of men and
women who understand and remember all that
Ypres meant in suffering and endurance.
League. Those who have neither fought in the
Salient nor lost relatives there, but who are in
sympathy with the objects of the Ypres League,
are admitted to its fellowship, but are not given
scroll certificates.
Do not let the fact of your not having served
in the Salient deter you from joining the Ypres
Life membership, £2 10s.
Annual members, 5s.
There is also a Junior Division to which
children of those who served in the Salient, also
those who sympathize with our objects, have the
right to belong. Annual subscription is. up
to the age of 18, after which they can become
ordinary members of the League.
