The Ypres Times.
The annual fair had just opened that morning for a period of three weeks, the second since the War
I believe the stalls and booths and roundabouts practically filled the whole of the Grande Place, and
what a hideous collection it all seemed to me. There in that place of all places, with the sad and
sombre fragments of the once wonderful Cloth Hall looking down on the garish assembly, its shattered
walls which not so long ago echoed to the growl of the guns, and the tramp of countless feet, now threw
back the sounds of coarse shouts from the various individuals with something to sell, the shrieking steam
whistles, the crack of rifles at the shooting gallerieswhat a parody
A glance at the country surrounding the town reveals no traces of the terrible struggle against foe
and nature which went on for four years, except the substitution of crosses and headstones instead of
trees. Here and there along the immortal Menin Road were to be seen tightly packed bales of rusty
barbed wire, torn and twisted tin hats, dixies and other scraps of war relics awaiting removalnearly
every turn of the plough reveals some tragic reminder and the huge stacks of shells and shell fragments
to be seen outside most farm buildings gives some
idea of the difficulties with which the industrious
Flemish peasantry have to contend in recultivating
their land, although this salvaging business has its
financial value, I suppose.
Near Hell Fire Corner we came upon some Bel
gians busy loading up a cart with battlefield material.
A closer inspection revealed among other things in
the cart some poor fellow's bonesa shoulder blade
and knee bonewhich were being taken away for
decent burial. God rest his soul. I thought of my
comfortable bed the previous night, only a stone's
throw away. I thought of the petty worries and
trouble and strife in England at the present time,
andto quote a previous writer to the Ypres Times
the world's mad, selfish, sottish onrush.'' But
we don't all forget, and you dear pals, known and
unknown, who sleep for ever at Ypres, and with
whom I had the privilege to serve, will never be
forgotten by your comrades-in-arms.
The White Chateau and the Hooge Chateau
have arisen from their ashes, the former I noticed still
retains the original shell scarred brick gate-posts,
and the latter has only half a garden in front. The
rest is just a hole some of our members will
remember it being excavated.
At Railway Wood they were digging deep pits
to get at the timbers forming the roofs of the saps,
some of which had been lifted out by a small crane.
Here and there among the growing crops could
be discerned concrete blockhouses and emplace
ments, but never a sign of a trench anywhere the
farmers had seen to that.
From the heights of Passchendaele a remarkable
view of the Salient could be had no wonder we
LORD YPRES AND SIR WILLIAM PULTENEY bot.h wanted to hold it. Brand new villages, churches
at Tm? ucviv catp a tarms were to be seen everywhere, but not a
AT THE MENIN GAT E. tree except a mass of twisted stJnps indicating the
site of the once beautiful Houthulst Forest.
J ust below Pilckem Ridge, near the canal bank, I made a special point of standing at the crossroads
which used to be in No Man's Band, a favourite meeting place of our patrols and Fritz's. Near Boesinghe
I looked in vain for Blighty Bridge, or traces of it, but the canal had been very well scavenged, and not
a vestige of any of the numerous bridges that were once there now remain.
On August Bank Holiday we were walking along the Ramparts, when suddenly from the direction
of the station came the strains of our National Anthem then I remembered the Ypres League ceremony
which had been arranged to take place at the Cloth Hall that day.
We hastened to the Grande Place in time to see the head of the procession arrive at the meeting
place. The ceremony, service and speeches were very moving and impressive, and when the Earl of
Ypres was taking leave of the Belgian military and State officials he, in response to my humble request
granted me the privilege of a handshake before leaving. It was the proudest moment of my life.
I hope to re-visit Ypres again and again, but not while the annual fair is being held. To the
present inhabitants it is probably the outstanding event of the year, but I cannot think of Ypres as
anything but a glorious sepulchre of our wonderfid dead, wherein such revelry is sacrilege.
