34
The Ypres Times.
It is now quite dark and. we. cannot see Essex Farm as we file silently past it, but its
presence is revealed:to us through another: sense. And so on to Bridge 4; across»the Yser
Canal. Two sunken barges, awash in the stagnant waters, support the rude bridge, and
as we cross it we see the twinkling lights of the dtigrouts which honeycomb the further
bank. The lights from these strange habitations are weirdly reflected in the murk}7 waters
a nightmare Venice on the banks of the Styx. Beyond the bridge is that significantly
named thoroughfare, the Red Road," and as we debouch upon it we enter the zone
of intensive machine-gun fire. Occasionally a particularly prolonged burst in our imme
diate vicinity necessitates the adoption of a prone position upon the road meanwhile
a stream of bullets passes with a hiss and crackle across our backs, tohurry oS into the
darkness with a sighing, ghostly swish. In this halting manner our weird: procession
stumbles forewards, past the pond of croakmg frogs at Burnt: Farm and beneath the shadbw
of the gaunt rains ofiBoch Barm, thenoe along the tortuous length of the C.'T. to our> desti
nation at The Willows,
Meanwhile the Very. Eights have continued'to rise and fall: in front of us, tracing
fleeting parabolas of i brilliant light: and casting strange, moving shadows across the deso
late wastes. Our trench fades into nothing and; we find ourselves once again on,ground
level, surrounded by the ruins of an orchard: The gaunt' skeletons of the splintered ttees
stand outTn, inky silhouette against the fitful glare of the starrshells bullets bury, them
selves withviciousthuds in the tortured1 trunk s.
During the previous month the enemy, had'attempted an: advance in the vicinity of
The Willows and the ensuing struggle has resulted in the complete obliteration of the C.T.
between the orchard and the front line. It is our task to restore communication. The
enemy is well aware of our intentions and proceeds to make The Willows as unhealthy as
possible. And so, through the long hours of the night, we clear the water-logged ditch,
fit "A" frames and iron sheets, and build up breastworks of sandbags filled with the
evil-smelling mud. The air, is rarely free from the slash of bullets, but the guns are silent
only occasionally does a stray shell meander overhead to some distant cross-roads or
railway siding, or the distant clang of a 6o-pounder shiver the silences of the upper air.
And so as dawn approaches we pack up and retrace our steps to the canal bank. We
crawl past the sinister ruins of Essex Farm, past'the railway crossing, now devoid of any
sign of life, through the tiny ruined village of Brielen; silent and deserted, the only sound
the echo of our heavy boots upon its cobbled street, thence along the Avenue to our barn
beside the farmyard pond.
The dawn has come, the Véry Eights have ceased to flicker and the machine guns
their vicious chatter and rattle instead we have the opening overture of the heavy guns
and the twitter of birds in the Chateau grounds.
V. W. ANDREWS.
NOTE ON MODERN CONDITION OF PEACES MENTIONED IN THIS SKETCH.
In the summer of 1924 the Chateau des Trois Tours was an hotel for the accommodation of visitors
to the Salient. Its entrance hall was a museum of war trophies, trench signboards, trench mortars
rifles, bombs, etc.
Brielen was almost rebuilt and was taking an enthusiastic interest in the rebuilding of its Church.
Railway Cottage, Essex Farm, Foch Farm, Burnt Farm were all rebuilt and occupied the last named
some 50 yards from its old site.
Bridge 4 had been removed, but the old road still led up to it on either side. The Canal could be
crossed a few yards to the right, just past the 47th Div. Monument.
The Willows. One trench still in existence and in good condition, being used as a ditch between
two fields, Duckboards, A frames, iron sheets and telephone wires still in evidence.