Thursday 4 September 2014

What happened to great grandpa Morris?

Ever since I was young I have always heard the story about great grandpa Morris Hirsch, the father of my grandfather on my mothers side.  I don't think the telling has ever been the same twice, and in reality I don't think anyone ever really gave it a great deal of thought.  The salient facts of the case is that great grandpa Morris was one of the people the Great War took from the world when he was a Hungarian soldier.

And here is the rest of what we think we know.

The Hirsch family is a long line of stubborn, difficult people who didn't always get along with others (or themselves for that matter) and didn't always do the right thing.  For example, my grandfathers grandfather (or grandfathers grandfather, we don't seem to have anything straight), died in prison after an illustrious career as a counterfeiter.  I can't say that currency debasement is the typical family trade.  Most of the time, the Hirsch-folk end up becoming engineers.  This is probably the result of what must be a specific strain of mild autism - Hirschpergers if you will.

This photograph is of Morris and his Family.
Morris is the fellow who looks exactly like someone
about to be sent in to the First World War.  Pay
special attention to the little elf next to his left knee.
My grandfather Milton (aka Munno, or "little elf", hee hee) was originally from the Timisoara metropolitan area, which even though is now part of Romania, didn't stop him from being a Hungarian.  That's just how it works.  He disliked his father, the eponymous Morris.  To put it plainly, Morris was a middle-man.  He would go to the outskirts of the city to buy up grain cheap from the farmers and sell it dear to the market.  While not necessarily the most exciting of occupations, it served well enough to put his children on the path to the Gymnasium, and might have done so had his death not beggared his survivors and turned them in to immigrants.  Morris always taught his children that the whole world wrong was wrong, and the only ones who were right where the Hirschs.  In truth, none of his other children liked him very much either and they all thought he was rather dim.

This was all as well as in 1915, Morris was drafted into the Army reserves where he served working in a Hospital, well away from the front lines and practically inundated with the very white sheets that his remotely deployed colleagues pined for so very dearly.  He was known to read while walking, an apparently biological trait as his great grandson inherited the exact same aptitude.  While I'm always careful when crossing streets, apparently Morris wasn't very careful when crossing officers.  There was a teenaged, German speaking officer which he walked past without saluting, or in other versions, refused to salute, which seems the most likely scenario.  It doesn't really do to be a Jew serving in the Austro-Hungarian Army to not play the game, especially as they tended to be quite keen on enforcing iron discipline.  In this case, discipline meant being sent right off with one of his cousins to the Russian front, one of the many places you didn't want to be in 1915 (although apparently it might have been Italy - but let's just say it was Russia, because that had to be a lot more miserable).

Here is when portrayal of events becomes most diverging.  There are two very distinct ways in which Morris was said to have been killed.  The first way was a heroic death, one worth perhaps of King Albert himself.  In this version of events, the cousin is wounded and Morris was killed trying to bring him back to the trench, saving his life.

Unfortunately, I prefer to believe the other variation of the story, which seems to be a lot more likely given what I know of the stubbornness of Hirschs (and every once in a while, even myself).

Morris and his cousin, alas, were captured by the Russians.  This is not the ideal outcome for being a participant in the Great War, but neither is it the worst, after all, it's not yet the Second World War.  A contemplative man might have thought about their situation and realized that it was a mistake to play arrogant with an obviously well connected superior officer of the juvenile variety.  Best not to tempt fate and take your chances in a Russian prison camp, and go on living with your cousin and comrades in arms.  But that's not the outcome he chose.  In the words of my grandpa Milton, he "made a false move"... yeah, just like they used to do in the old gangster movies... or tried to escape.  Whatever it was he did induced a Russian to shoot him.  I've even heard that he would not be outdone by any normal fool who was capable of making two fatally bad life choices and may have tried to crawl away afterward.  *sigh* A Russians work is never done.  He was finally done in at the end of a bayonet.

The results was that my grandfather would not make it to gymnasium and would instead have to leave Hungary at the age of 15, build a railway across France and learn to play chess on steamer steaming for the US.  Instead of engineering, he would become a fitter.  He hated being a fitter, but he was good at it, enough so that he was fitting stars and starlets at Sax 5th Ave.  While leaving Hungary meant he lost the opportunity to die at the hands of the Nazis in World War Two, it did gave him the opportunity to open up his own shop in Long Beach, New York and raise a family where he was mostly loved by his children and certainly adored by his grandchildren.

For me, the story of Morris Hirsch is a personal cautionary tale.  I must always be aware of my surroundings, and always salute teen-age officers, because there is always just a little bit of Morris in me.  Also, Morris died at the age of 41, the same age that I am now.  Depending on how things go in the Ukraine, there's still time for me to be killed by a Russian.

Tuesday 2 September 2014

The fortress city of Namur

One of the excellent views from the citadel of Namur.
I have long delayed documenting one of the cities I visited on August 14th.  Like Liege, in the 19th century the city of Namur was reinforced by a ring of fortresses in order to prevent armies from marching through Belgium on their way to other conquests.  Overall, at least nowadays, Namur is a smaller and somewhat ore picturesque city than Liege and seems more dominated by its central citadel and surrounding hills.

I obviously visited a bit early on the schedule as the siege of Namur began on the 20th of August, which also happened to be the day that Brussels was occupied by Germany.  I chose to be in Brussels for the 20th, and so instead went early.  This siege only lasted until the 25th, as the Belgian army was already in retreat and the French army had already been defeated in nearby Charleroi.  In this battle, the Germans had been merciful to their troops and did not order infantry attacks until the Belgian defenses had been significantly reduced.  As a result the Belgians suffered for more casualties than the Germans, whose losses were negligible in comparison.

In addition to directions to the ring of forts around the city,
there are also directions to something called "Parlemerde".
The citadel in the center is actually very old, going as far back as the Romans.  It sits atop a big hill that has been carved out by the confluence of the Meuse and Sambre rivers.  The main bastion is cut off from the rest of the hill by a big chasm, which I don't know if it is natural or man made.  I ascended from the river confluence along its imposing walls.

The citadel had a few permanent information plaques added to it, including an interesting set of directions pointing you to the location of the forts surrounding the city.

There was a small exhibit in the citadel detailing the attack on the fort.  It was not extravagant, just a handful of information signs posted in a small clearing.  It contained many interesting photos from Namur during the war, and pictures of documents details communiques from both the Belgian and German governments to the city.  It also contained an abundance of information, all of it carefully encoded in French.  By this time, my French language skills improved... or more precisely, my lack from French language skills diminished, so I was able to surprisingly get the gist of what it was saying.  I have not seen anything written about it on line, but unless I'm mistaken (and it's likely I am) there were a few very severe hits on the citadel itself by German artillery.  Again, this illustrates how much better Germany performed against Namur than Liege, keeping in mind that Liege was utterly defeated.

From a series of metal pieces installed in a one of the
citadel tunnels.
There was also a few artwork installations around the top, plus a nice (and rather pricy) cafe where I was able to sit for coffee and be a tourist for a time before returning to my car and from there to Liege again for the commemoration of Fort Loncin.

Sunday 31 August 2014

The real Europe

I've been using rather heroic language to describe the Belgium of 1914, elevating King Albert I to heroic status and at times over simplifying the underlying political currents of the early 20th century.  The truth about the world at the time is far more complicated, and while it's easy to pick favorites, it doesn't mean that the First World War was a true battle between good and evil.

Likewise, it can sometimes be a little easy to vilify German... and there were certainly times when warranted, but it's important to remember that all these European states existed in a context of their own design for centuries before the eruption of these enormous world wars.

The truth is that Belgium operated as a pre-war European nation just as all the other nations had.  While Belgium was in a position at the outbreak of the Great War to stand on higher moral principle, it has never been by any means a charity.  It was part of a political system of national self interest which I have argued dates back to Roman nobility and diplomacy.  While it's right and true that we honor the innocents massacred by Germany in Belgium during the war, including those killed in the first months under the pretext of fighting armed civilian resistance, and those that died from Germany's harsh economic starvation of the country, Germany was not the sole actor responsible for what happened.

Nor is Germany the only source of European cruelty.  In fact, I believe that the culmination of European savagery, the Second World War and the Holocaust, need not have only happened in Germany.  Under the right circumstances most European countries might have evolved a similar set of ideas and acted the same way.  The history of the Soviet Union can attest to my belief.

The most well known of Belgium's colonies was in the Congo, and is well renowned for it's brutality.  Before it was annexed in 1908, the Congo was considered the property of King Alberts predecessor and uncle, King Leopold II.  The harsh and extractive rule of Leopold leaves a death toll behind that dwarfs the one inflicted upon Belgium by 1914 Germany, and each one of those African victims are as people worthy of remembrance as much as any European.  I write more of the Belgian victims only because they were fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to be in the center of a greater political upheaval.

Credit should be given to King Albert I for his attempts to reform Belgian policy in the Congo, as he is known for doing, but in these particular efforts, he was merely trying to improve what was most fundamentally an evil, global institution which we as the world have yet to recover from.

The European system of Imperialism would be in its death throws for decades yet, and would even outlive King Albert himself who died while (presumably heroically) mountaineering in 1934.  19th century European Imperialism was birthed from the aging system of Monarchial power games which again Albert was a central part of, for it's also worth remembering that the most powerful ruling class in Europe at the time were related to one another.  Even King Alberts arch enemy, the German Kaiser Wilhelm II, were distant cousins.

All of us live and act in worlds not of our own defining, and under constant change and evolution.  Within these confines we are given our specific gifts, talents and opportunities.  One hopes that each person chooses to act in a way that elevates them above the prevailing standard of conduct, which in all times has always had need of improvement.  Within the realistic context which I have described, I believe in the instance of the Belgian conflict with Germany in 1914, King Albert I and Belgium meets did rise to meet that specific challenge.  But it did not mean they would again in the next conflict, nor does it mean they do in this era.  Acts of virtue must be renewed again for each new age.

Saturday 30 August 2014

The road home

I returned home to California yesterday after a very long silence on the blog.  I wanted to have updated more frequently but in my last few locations I've either been very busy or had poor access to the internet.  So while this concludes my trip, I still have a few more things to post and show.

Tuesday 26 August 2014

On the subject of massacres

One hundred years ago from this last Saturday, August 23rd, Germany committed the largest massacre of Belgian citizens during the outbreak of the war.  The city of Dinant fell to Germany after several days of fierce resistance by the French and Belgians.  674 civilians, which included women and children, were executed in response to perceived attacks on German soldiers trying to repair a bridge over the Meuse.

I think that this is a significant event because it was acts like these which galvanized the populations of Germany's opponents against them.  Since the staggering civilian deaths of the Second World War and beyond, 674 people may seem relatively small, and was certainly not the largest to have ever occurred in Belgium before.  But this was only the largest act in a series of attacks which killed thousands of innocents in the first months of the war.  It's important because it demonstrates the impact that moral and immoral actions can have on opposing sides of a conflict, violent and non-violent.

The executions themselves were conducted in an arbitrary fashion which varied from town to town.  Typically occupants were divided by category, usually sex and put on opposites sides of the town square.  Then a selection was made... every 10th person, usually from the men's side, or every 5th, etc.  As one of the moral motivations for participation in the war, particularly for Britain, a language of propaganda was developed around these killings.  People referred to "Poor Belgium" as part of the justification for intervention.

The massacres hold a special interest for me.  I spent a good six years of my life working with the Human Rights Data Analysis Group, collecting and analyzing large scale human rights events.  It is crimes against civilians such as those that occurred at such a large scale during the Second World War that caused me to want to work with such an organization.

I'm also staying in Paris at the moment, and have visited with some folks who are also interested in this sort of thing, specifically executions committed by the Islamic Republic of Iran.  I'm very bless to know such people, and one day I hope that all there is left to do is these kinds of commemorative trips.

Sunday 24 August 2014

Feline friends of the trenches

It wouldn't be the internet without lots of pictures of cats.  While it's difficult to find much lightness around the trenches, I none the less find it a little comforting that there were some creatures around that provided occasional, if not somewhat distant companionship for the occupants.

Here's a collection of photos of cats in the service during the Great War.  I would like to draw particular attention to Pitouchi, a belgian cat:

"Pitouchi" (photo below) was born in the trenches. His mother was killed when he was a kitten, and he was adopted and nursed to health by Lt. Lekeux of the Belgian army. 

Saturday 23 August 2014

Germany and Britain collide

One hundred years ago today, 18 days after the United Kingdom declared war on Germany, the British Expeditionary Forces (BEF) finally engaged the Germany's First Army at the Belgian city of Mons.

Wednesday 20 August 2014

The European capital

One hundred years ago today, the capital of Belgium in Brussels fell to Germany.  The Belgian government had already been relocated to Antwerp.

The occupation of Brussels in the context if this trip is symbolic because ultimately, this is where the road through Belgium leads.  This is not just the capital of Belgium.  This is now the capital of Europe, where the European Parliament sits. The city of today represent the failure of the invasion.  And it doors not merely represent the failure of the invasion but the failure of any power, be it France under Napoleon, the Soviet Union or Germany to completely dominate the European continent for its own ends.

I arrived here, again, one hundred years later to see what there is in the heart of Europe.

Monday 18 August 2014

Around the crater

The belgian eternal flame most
accurately represents the horror of which
it wants you to remember.
As I mentioned in a previous post, I attended a commemoration of the destruction of Fort Loncin on August 15th.  This was not the first fort, nor the last fort to fall, but was the only fort that didn't surrender.  It didn't surrender because it was so completely destroyed.

At 5:20pm on August 15, 1914, a shell struck one of the ammunition magazines killing over 300 soldiers who were present.  Of those who were killed, 250 of their bodies were never recovered.  They are likely all buried under the fort, or even disintegrated entirely.

In the 19th century, it was determined that one of the ways to enforce Belgian neutrality was to establish defensive positions along the routes used by advancing armies for centuries.  The main cities chosen as these fortresses were Liege and Namur.  Originally the designs of the fortress were specified to withstand bombardment based on artillery from the 1880s.  Unfortunately, by 2015, the Germans had developed firepower that far exceeded the capabilities of the forts.  Where they were meant to last for months, while the Belgian army mobilized, they only lasted a week.  That critical week may yet have been enough to change the outcome of the war.

Shoes representing the never recovered soldiers.
I was quite keen to visit many of the forts, but really most of them are not accessible to the public.  Either they have been built around or are owned by organizations and used for other purposes (maybe James bond villain bases).  When learning about the possibility of visiting the forts, I discovered that there would be this commemoration event.  I contacted the email address listed on the forts web site to find out about it, and also to clear up some confusion I had about visiting the fort.  For example, for some reason, it seemed to me unlikely that an event that claimed the "Presence Royale" (!!!) would be open to the public.  I confirmed in fact that I could attend, and was determined to do so.

It was a gusty but warm afternoon, with occasional showers.  Before the event, visitors were allowed access to the fort and I toured the grounds a bit.  When you think about a fort you might think of a giant stone or concrete structure jutting from the earth with high impenetrable walls and bristling cannons.  These forts, however, are modern 19th century forts and seemed to have been designed quite differently.  It seems that overall they are flush with the earth, I think to avoid taking direct fire from enemy field cannons.  Instead of ascending in to the fort, one descends.  This seems like a foreshadowing of the earth entangled nature of the trench warfare to come.

Soon enough, I left the fort to attend the first part of the ceremony.  It began on the outside the fort at the monument for the fort.  There a few speeches all of which were in French, but I think I may have recorded, although probably at low quality.
The crater is very large.  There seemed a sense of
camaraderie with us all standing around to pay respect. 

Afterward, we all went to the interior of the fort and gathered around the enormous crater left behind by the explosion.

As mentioned, the invitation to the event specified "Presence Royale" which I hoped meant that King Philippe would be present.  However, it appears a representative of the king was sent in his place, although I have not been able to identify who it was.  It would have been nice to be in the presence of the royal as I had never seen a monarch before, and it would have been the great grandson of Albert I.  It's understandable as King Philippe had recently attended what seemed to be a very similar event at the fort just on August 3rd.

There were modern soldiers standing upon the fort itself, and re-enactors wearing uniforms similar to those worn by the Belgian army in 1914 at the start of the war along the path to where a massive, destroyed turret lies and where a bronze figure protrudes from the earth holding aloft a torch.

The remains of an enormous turret after 100 years.
There were more speeches in French, which I think I have even worse recordings of before the King's represent crossed the crater and lit the torch.

The soldiers stood at attention and the band played while the Presence Royale saluted the flame, honoring what is now considered a military cemetery.

At precisely 5:20, one of the defense turret cannons were fired.  This was quite a shock as anyone who has ever heard a cannon fired before can attest.  The noise is unlike how it is depicted in movies.  It's short like a firecracker, but extremely loud.  The recording I made itself sounds like what you might hear in a movie, as it's likely that's why film cannons sound the way they do.

After all was complete and the Presence Royale departed, we descended from the crumbling walls of the fort.  I saved someone from falling off, while another person in turn helped me down.  Then I returned to my flat in Liege.



Friday 15 August 2014

The end of fort Loncin

One hundred years ago today, Fort Loncin was destroyed by a German "Big Bertha" howitzer.  It was the only fort surrounding liege that did not surrender, but rather knocked out of action when one of the howitzer shells hit the fort's ammunition magazine.  Most of the fort's occupants were killed.

I attended the centennial commemoration however I don't have non-phone internet access even though I paid t-mobile a bundle for it.  So I will write about it tomorrow from Amsterdam where I assume the bandwidth is plentiful.

Tuesday 12 August 2014

The Battle of Mons

Grand Place, Mons
One hundred years from next Saturday (August 23rd), the British Expeditionary Forces (BEF) saw it's first action in Europe when it engaged the advancing German army outside the Belgian city of Mons.  The British were defending the city but were eventually overwhelmed and began their retreat to the Marne outside Paris.

You can tell that the city is preparing for the centennial.  For one, there are signs announcing that it's preparing for the centennial.  Another is that there seem to be Union Jacks (and in the case of this picture, Canadian flags) everywhere.

This city remained in German hands until the end of the war.  So there was little fighting.  The city is largely not like it would have been in 1914 as it is in a very industrial area of Belgium and has obviously been developed.

Germans and Britons together.
Soon after the battle, the Germans established a military cemetery at the town of Saint Symphorien where they buries with honors dead from both sides of the conflict.  It is one of the few places you can see soldiers from both sides buried beside each other.

The cemetery contains the first and the last Commonwealth casualties of the war.

On August 4th of this year, just last week, there was a special ceremony held at this cemetery where the British Prime Minister and members of the British Royal family were in attendance.
This memorial is dated August 4th, 2014.  It's likely that it was
the result of the ceremony held that day.


Edward William Mason: This lucky,
unlucky fellow has great great
grandchildren.
 It seems a large number of descendants were present on that day.  I'm starting to see posts from them on various travel sites in the region.  They left behind details about their relatives, including descriptions of how tall their family tree has grown.  It was a reminder that I have my own family dead in this war, even though they were on the other side and fighting on another front.  I wish I could find my great grandfathers grave.  Most likely he doesn't have one.

Pretty Cities

Took a couple of days with Jon to stop observing calamitous war destruction and instead spend some time in some of Belgium's prettiest cities.

Brugges

Brugges from the Belfort
Spent an afternoon and morning in Brugges, which must be Belgium's most popular city to visit.  It's a proper old European city that has been fortunate enough to be largely untouched by the wars.  This plays a large role in it's being the prettiest city.  The center is dominated by a giant, visitable belfry (or Belfort as it is known) which is treacherous but rewarding to climb.

The city also has canals with folks taking boat rides, etc.  We found a chocolate shop that seemed to be in to bulk sales to tourists.  Belgian chocolate is still good in its brick-like state.  It may not be necessary to get the fancy ones, although the only way to verify this is through scientific experimentation.

The weathers has been a bit rainy, but that's ok.  Like boy-scouts we are prepared for such things and it does not bother us.
The Belfort from below


View from a bridge on a canal-square.

Another canal segment.

Lucifernum

The interior of one of the well decorated Lucifernum room.
Jon approves of the choice of style.
We were referred to Lucifernum as a nighttime place.  It's not a mainstream place, but rather a private residence that the owner has decided to open to the public for rum-based drinks.  The Sunday evening we went was a rather tame evening, but with what seemed to be a large group of latin American folks.  It was sort of a relief to me to be around people whose language I can begin to understand.

The outside and main social area of Lucifernum that evening.

Ghent

On the way back to Brussels to drop Jon back off at the train station for his journey back to Manchester we stopped off for a light lunch (and rain soaking) at the old market city of Ghent.  Apparently this used to be the largest city in Europe.  The unique style of this city was that the squares felt bigger and more airy, and even though the centers had not been demolished it deliberately mixed in some very modern style with the old.

Also it had a really cool castle.
An example of very modern displays mixed in with old buildings
and ghost buildings.

Monday 11 August 2014

To Flanders and back again

On Friday, my old University chum appeared in a train station in Brussels.  I parked my car a completely different train station in a vain attempt to pick him up.  Luckily I got lost and accidentally wandered to the wrong train station and found him before my phone ran out of power.  Very typical Great War August day where even the best of plans founders upon the shoals of poor execution.

Soon enough we were righted back on to our original scheme, which was to visit various towns and cities in Flanders.  Most significantly we wished to visit Ypres, which is often pronounced "Eep", which is what the men in the trenches of WWI said when they saw a rat, or as the British called it, "Wipers", rat or no rat.

The Ypres salient was where the Belgian army ended up after Germany captured most of the country.  They were able to stop there at the edge of Belgium in part by planned flooding, but mainly because they linked up with the French army.  Eventually, the British joined the Belgian, French and in the end Americans, as everyone settled in for what would be 4 very long years of attrition and stagnation - trench warfare.

The main square of Ypres, looking very much like it
did in 1913, minus all the automobiles.
The town of Ypres itself is very beautiful, with the typical cobble stones I've become used to seeing in European cities, old churches and tightly crowded stone building fronts.  As typical, it has a main central square with a cathedral, brasseries and other assorted shops and attractions.

Another view of the main square,
this time in 1919.  Still no
automobiles.
The town of Ypres was of course bombarded heavily during the war and almost completely destroyed.  The fact that it currently resembles so splendidly the original town is testament to how much effort went in to its reconstruction.

In the central cathedral is the In Flanders Field museum.  The museum provides a good overview of what the war was like and what events transpired in the Ypres salient.  I must admit I was not as moved as the "Expo" at the Liege train station, however, it's certainly worth a visit when in Ypres.

Memorial to Queen Victoria's Rifles,
complete with representative
British person.
The entire area around Ypres is a patchwork of farms, cemeteries, monuments, craters and unexploded munitions.  Someone told me that they still blow up ordinance twice per week.  Every week.  For almost 100 years.

The cemeteries seem to be everywhere, and represent every country that fought in the salient.  There is even a German cemetery, which we did visit.

Everywhere and at every cemetery can be found endless lists of names.  Names on the tombstones themselves, names of soldiers that were missing, and some of those missing placed into graves of unknown soldiers.

Speaking of unknown soldiers, when we were at the Hooge Crater cemetery (an unexpectedly appropriate name for the crater), Jon and I got to talking about the British Tomb of the Unknown Warrior.  Apparently what was done was that bodies were selected from all the major British battlefields and brought under one roof.  There a blindfolded selection of the bodies was made and one was chosen to be buried in Westminster Abbey among the nations most honored individuals.  One of the most powerful ideas of this arrangement is that since the body was chosen from all the battlefields, and nobody knows which, the soldier could be the body of anyones missing son and husband.  In this way, it would have been cathartic for the whole country.

One of the few places around Ypres that has not been
reclaimed by humanity.  The misshapen ground is
as close as possible to the conditions of the whole
area in 1918.
Visiting other sites, we fond there are very few battlefields and structures that are well preserved, and rightfully so.  In fact, we learned that the British had wanted to preserve Ypres as it was, in its destroyed form, as a kind of holy ground.  While the multitude of monuments in the area around Ypres are appropriate, a greater monument still is to return the land to life... life lived by people.  The Belgian government turned down the British request and created incentives for the farmers to return to the land.  The battlefield were too toxic to be farmed normally, and thousands of bodies needed to be removed, but in time, the area was restored to farmland.


Tyne Cot cemetery, one of the larger ones for British Commonwealth
soldiers of the war.
In the evening, we returned to Ypres and another monument put in place by the United Kingdom - Menin Gate.  There we attended the "Last Post" ceremony, which has been conducted every night since July 2nd, 1928, except of course during Belgian occupation during the Second World War.  The Menin gate itself is an impressive monument which is engraved with thousands and thousands of names of the British and British Commonwealth dead all over its structure.  The names are on the interior walls, they are on the external walls where stairways of names guide you to the park around the old wall of the city.

The ceremony was well attended and included some unidentified persons of importance.  It is with great apologies that I must say that I failed to record the sounds of the ceremony.

I leave now with reference to an explanation of why people in Europe wear poppies on Remembrance Day.  It comes from a poem "In Flanders Field" written by a Canadian physician during the war.  It was in this area that the poem's author penned it.  He died of sickness before the end of the war.

Heavy casualties

Despite having suffered heavy personal casualties, I've returned to blog here after a long weekend of silence.  The reason for the silence is that I was visited by my friend Jon from Manchester England, and frankly, hanging out with him on the road is more fun than writing a travel blog.  But I'm back.

Speaking of back, there have been heavy casualties in the form of some kind of thrown back muscle apparently on account of a sedentary life-style.  It happened on Saturday morning just before attempting to engage the Ypres salient and threatened to put an end to the weekend and waste a persons perfectly good trip all the way from Britain.  That is, if it was serious enough that I could not walk.  Turns out these things are best dealt with by moving around so I just took a bunch of pain-killers and soldiered on.  Pretty lucky all told that it wasn't very serious and that there is modern medicine to help you see through your tears.

It's still a little difficult to move around but this just means I won't be able to simulate jumping in to trenches and such.  Avante!

Thursday 7 August 2014

Quiet


I tried to visit Le Mémorial Interalliés de Cointe today, but it was closed and had signs on it stating that entry was prohibited (I believe the exact wording was "interdit").  Behind the signs were a whole bunch of Belgian troops doing stuff with a whole bunch of Belgian trucks.  Well, we all know that on August 7th, you better not mess with Belgian troops.

Rather than poke around any more than I did, feeling that honor had been satisfied, I decided to call it a call it a day.  The memorial is right across the street on the other side of Mos Eisley, so I had an early lunch and then returned to my room to offer mercy to the feet I've been trying so hard to destroy.  Also, to plan out a little bit more of my trip, rather than just driving headlong in to the Great War unknown, because for me there sure is a lot of unknown.

While it might have been all quiet on the modern front, it was certainly not quiet on the Belgian front one hundred years ago.  As I attempted to describe in a previous post, the assaults against the forts around Liege continued on August 7th at terrible cost to the German infantry.  It's hard for me to imagine what it must have been like for those young men, many of them really just boys, to have to rush against a modern fortification on open fields with no cover against machine guns an rifle fire accurate out to 1/2 kilometer.

I meant to refer yesterday to a post made by Brad DeLong, in which he included a set of paragraphs from The Guns of August which had been etched in my memory.  I include a sub-quote from his quote here.  You might like to read the rest of the quote on his blog:

On August 5 Emmich’s brigades opened the attack on the four easternmost forts of Liège with a cannonade by field artillery followed by infantry assault. The light shells made no impression on the forts, and the Belgian guns poured a hail of fire on the German troops, slaughtering their front ranks. Company after company came on, making for the spaces between the forts where the Belgian entrenchments had not been completed. At some points where they broke through, the Germans stormed up the slopes where the guns could not be depressed to reach them and were mowed down by the forts’ machine guns. The dead piled up in ridges a yard high. At Fort Barchon, Belgians, seeing the German lines waver, charged with the bayonet and threw them back. Again and again the Germans returned to the assault, spending lives like bullets in the knowledge of plentiful reserves to make up the losses. “They made no attempt at deploying,” a Belgian officer described it later, “but came on line after line, almost shoulder to shoulder, until as we shot them down, the fallen were heaped on top of each other in an awful barricade of dead and wounded that threatened to mask our guns and cause us trouble. So high did the barricade become that we did not know whether to fire through it or to go out and clear openings with our hands....
...a terrible thing.

The Guillemins Railway Station

I mentioned yesterday that my hotel was on the seedy side of the street opposite an extraordinarily exquisite railway station.  As I as passing by I thought I might take a couple of snapshots to illustrate how excellent and spaceport-like it really is.  The snapshots are below:
From a slight elevation at the rear of the train station.
 
Right under the main arch in the front where the giant bomb for
the 14-18 "Expo" is on display.

Entrances to the future launch pads, docking bays, etc.

Wednesday 6 August 2014

The Liége 14-18 Expo

Today I spent some time walking around Liege trying to find some August 1914 type things to do.  I was beginning to become a little discouraged by the lack of general commemorating going on around me when I passed by the front of this souvenir shop.  It had a bunch of books with illustrated covers about various local topics and the Great War!  There was a book about Liége itself, a book about the forts (including the Second World War), a book about massacres!  This was no ordinary souvenir shop!

Ok, maybe it was, but it had all these interesting books.  The fellow behind the counter told me about a few things to look for concerning the Great War and Belgium, even directed me to another shop!  He also mentioned that right up the street the museum was having an "Expo", but also, the train station across the street from my hotel was having one too!

So I got lunch and went to the museum.

The Musée del Vie Wallonne

For tearing up the road :)
This Expo was a collection of items and artworks around Belgium's participating in the First World War.  It main had uniforms, soldiers possessions and things painted and drawn about the war, during the war.

For example, included a proper ancient motorcycle for you motorcycle enthusiasts.  It looks just like a bicycle except that it has a 100 year old piston engine and a long thin metal tank full of gasoline directly under your crotch.  I'm sure it was awesome, and I would definitely trade in my Enfield for one of these.
Does not tear up the road :(

It also had things like machine guns, which are one of the more significant features of the Great War.  One of the main problems for soldiers, of course.

Albert I is for tearing up the Kaiser
 All in all, it was a rather small exhibit, but it did contain some good artwork.  My favorite is includes a rather dashing heroic figure who happened to be monarch of a small, neutral, European country.  The Kaiser says to Albert, "So you see -- you've lost everything."

A monument, an angel
with a sword and a Belgian
flag.
"Not my soul", he retorts, with the cunning and bravado of a Honey Badger.

That's because King Albert's soul is guarded by monuments, angels with swords and Belgian flags.

When I saw it, my heart sped up a little bit.  Yes, I'm that much of a dork.

All in all, very short.  But not bad!  And even better, my ticket includes entry to the other part of "Expo" at Guillemins train station across the street from my hotel.  "Great", I think, "If that part of the 'Expo' is even half as good as this, it will be worth it to check it out and then maybe get a nap back in my room.  And probably change my feet since I'm obviously going to destroy them before the end of the trip.

Guillemins Train Station

First of all, Guillemins train station is probably worth a tour on it's own.  I believe it was built with spaceships in mind.  You know, sometimes building stuff in Europe can take a little longer than you expect, because they have to be a lot more careful around regulation and building consensus and whatnot.  So I figure when they were designing it they thought we would have spaceships by the time they were finished.  They thought "Let's just get started on a spaceport now, and when they invent spaceships we'll just put in launch pads or whatever, instead of rails."  So it's like a spaceport when you go in.  A space station situated next to gambling parlous, empty store fronts and taverns.  It's Mos Eisley.

This exhibit was much larger than the one at Musée del vie Wallonne.  By a lot.  I soon realized, there would be no nap.  And I must say, this part of the exhibit is the main event.  I don't think I've been so moved by an exhibit before, but it could just be my WWI endorphins kicking in.

The first couple of rooms is dedicated to showing which countries declared war on which other country and when.  It pretty much goes like this: Austria-Hungary on Serbia, Germany on Russia, Germany on Belgium, UK on Germany, Bulgaria on Russia, France on Bugaria, Bulgaria on... wait, UK on... wait, Germany... I thought Germany already... hold, Russia... Italy... what is all this?  Turkey on Serbia... Greece, the USA.  Wait a minute, Japan just declared war on everyone, wait, not everyone... Siam?  Nicaragua, Haiti, all the colonies, Oceana...  ok, Ok, OK!!  It's everyone!  Everyone fights everyone.

It also has summaries along the walls of all the major combatants, where they are in their histories and what their war goals were: Belgium (of course), Russia, Germany, Austria-Hungary, the United Kingdom, Buglaria, Turkey and France.  That's right, those are just the main ones, and I don't think it even includes the USA (although it might have because the US was important when it came to peace negotiations).

Actually seeing the national order of of battle like this, it truly became clear why this really is a World War, even though it was only really fought in Europe, Asia Minor and bits of the Middle East.

After this room, I can recall:

  • I learned that the Belgians used dogs to move their machine guns around.
  • Rooms with various uniforms and equipment on full sized mannequins.
  • Rooms full of the various weapons used by all the combatants.
  • A room where they set up an phony airplane to look like the plane of the Red Baron combined with 3D flight-sim video projected on the walls to give it the illusion of motion.
  • An area made to look like a full trench with slots one could look out at the battlefield through.  On the battle field were all manner of soldiers fighting, along with corpses on a backdrop of films of the battlefield.  All the while it has sounds and flashing lights so that it seems like bombs and such.  Mainly the effect is that you can see the outlines of the statues on the battlefield doing things, and when the bombs light them up you briefly see their grizzly malformed faces and bodies.  I tried to take a video of this because one was so well done, but it didn't really come out.  This are had a number of things that increased the anxiety of people in it.  I especially noticed that the ground had been made up to look like it was muddy.  It was done so realistically well that you couldn't help worry about where you were stepping
  • Rooms full of medical equipment, and depictions of women fighting to sew men back together after they were done tearing each other apart. 
  • A room with all the known massacres of Belgian civilians at the start of the war.  The largest I found was Dinant, which had over 600 civilians killed.  I'm hoping to be there for the centennial on the 23rd.
  • Rooms showing dozens of faces reconstructed from the face-masks used to make artificial facial feature replacements.  This included films of them replacing a man's cheek, nose and jaw where it had been destroyed in the war.
At the end of the exhibit was a section that talked about what happened when Armistice and then the Treaty were signed.  It discussed the ambition of Woodrow Wilson in creating the League of Nations and his attempts to resolve the remaining European disagreements through peace talks.

Of course as we know, and the exhibit reiterates, the victorious allies were too focused on their own ambitions to create a real lasting peace, and the rest of the conflict would be settled later.

The last plaque on the wall is about victories.  I think that what it says is worth reprinting here in its entirety:

New Victories 

Immediately after the conflict, the victorious countries were nonetheless wounded.  Victory was hollow, since the price paid in human life was so high and so many values had been flouted.  Awareness of their importance gradually emerged, but the road was still long and neither the peace treaties nor the League of Nations managed to appease the tensions which led to the Second World War.  The Allies had won the war, but they then had to win the peace.

Other combats on other battlefields were necessary to see the triumph of peace, life, freedom, tolerance, justice, solidarity, equality, democracy, education and fraternity.  These values are the building blocks of our society and it is primordial to tirelessly defend them at a time when violence irrespective of its form is front page news, at a time when peace remains fragile in certain regions of the world, at a time when the financial and economic crisis is demolishing solidarity, at a time when equality between men and woman is contested in certain countries, at a time when democracy and freedom are still flouted in the four corners of the earth in the name of pernicious ideologies, at a time when respect of rights comes up against selfish ambitions and totalitarian regimes, at a time when human life is too often sacrificed on the alter of sordid interests…

For us, one century later, the First World War raises this question of values… Values set to a backdrop of blood and tears…

Baggage retrieved

I think the most exciting thing that happened yesterday was that I was able to change my trousers for the first time in 6 days.  I'm sure all of Belgium will appreciate my fresher look.  I did manage to stop by Fort Barchon on my way back to Köln, however it's really just a recreational facility and is only open to the public once each month.  It happens to be on Sunday, the same day it surrendered, but I won't be in Liege.  Oh well, there are other forts that have better prepared museums.  I may even be able to get a tour of one where I'm required to bring a flashlight.  I hope that means we are going underground and will be climbing ladders in the dark and such.

Returning to Köln was rather nice, even though it was very very brief.  It means that I had some really good vibes in that town.  Kölsch!

Tuesday 5 August 2014

Oui

First conversation in French ever.  Meh.  Not great.  But you should see the other guy.

The United Kingdom declares war on Germany

One hundred years ago today, the United Kingdom declared war on Germany for violating Belgian neutrality yesterday.  This marks the point in which all the major powers of the war have finally become committed.  The British Expeditionary Force (BEF) was mobilized yesterday and is preparing to cross the Channel.

Germany began assaulting the fortresses that surrounded the city of Liege, which is where I currently am.  The assaults were met with greater resistance than expected.  German casualties were very high as they faced accurate Belgian rifles, machine guns and artillery.  The unexpected carnage, of which I've read one description where bodies had literally formed walls used by advancing troops behind them, are a foreshadowing of the violence that would be the experience of the wars combatants for the next four years.

Today I will mostly reenact events by which the German Field Martial von Bulow had to return to Köln to retrieve a baggage that had become separated from the main forces.  I will try not to let the fact that this even never happened and is completely made up by myself, distract me.  I will drive all the way back to my hotel in Köln and retrieve the luggage which the airlines finally delivered Sunday evening after I had already left.  And then I shall finally change my trousers.

Gimmenich and the Three Frontiers


Yesterday I hiked from the outskirts of Aachen Germany to the border with Belgium and the Netherlands.  At the three borders is a park that more or less spans all three countries.  After visiting the park, I hiked the rest of the way to Gimmenich, one of the first places captured by Germany at the start of the war.

I parked rather close to the border.  I've already done a lot of walking and my feet are quite sore.  I was very pleased that the border is well visited and therefore had some reasonable parking available at just the right distance for me, about 1.7km.

The path through German forest to Belgium.

Up ahead, the Belgian border, gloriously undefended in this time
of (west) European peace.

Right on the other side of the border in Belgium, is a parking lot, next to the park.  There is a belgian part, with a tower and some shops, and there is a Dutch part, with a maze and some shops.  The German part looked mostly like just forrest.  At the intersection of all three countries is a marker with all three flags.
Here I am looking shabby wearing the same trousers for the fifth day
in a row.  I was lucky people were kind enough to take this photo of me
heroically clutching the Belgian flag.  This is at the intersection of
all three countries.  I'm standing in Germany, the photographer in Belgium.
The border between Belgium and the Netherlands is that little green line between the cobble stones.


I could not read the sign.
Translations welcome.
I had to see all (both) attractions at the park, so bought a ticket to the maze.  Unfortunately I never really solved the maze, but rather found the exit and took a short cut through the center.  But that was after getting well lost in the maze proper.  The maze itself was a dark, confusing and foreboding place.  Lost inside you never would know when you would encounter another fellow traveler, nor would you know what language they would speak.  It could be Dutch.  I could be German.  Or French or that Flemish language they speak up north.  Or that really weird language from that soggy island next to the north sea, which is really just a combination of all of them.


The maze also contained many watery dangers.  There were gates which were guarded by mighty hoses which would shoot water from them up at any passer by.  It was not clear what it was that controlled these formidable monsters.  Were they on a timer?  Some people in the maze seemed to think they were controlled by motion sensors.  Or were some of them controlled by motion sensors while others were on a timer?  Whatever the logic behind these traps, it was impossible to traverse the maze without terrible peril to your mobile phone.


Also somewhere in there was one of those wooden walls with a painting of someones body on one side with a hole cut where the head is meant to be.  If you are traveling with companions one can stick their head in the hole from behind while the other takes a picture.  I did not have such a luxury, so I decided I would follow the latest craze and take the stupidest selfie ever.  I have no idea what the couple who walked past thought of me when I was doing this, but never mind.

Finally, I figured out that if you go back to the start of the maze there is a path that led more or less right to the center.  I thought maybe this was some sort of clever there-is-no-real-solution maze, which I kind of thought was lame, so I just followed that path.  Turns out, the sign must have meant "exit", so I never really solved it.  I did however get to the center of the maze and took this partial panoramic photograph.
The center of the maze, when I foolishly used the shortcut.
I also climbed up the giant tower.


The view from the top of the tower.  This panorama includes, from left to right, Belgium (including Gemmenich), the Netherlands and Germany.  Click on it for more detail.
Also on the Belgian side of the park is a monument to fighters in the second world war.
Translations welcome, it will take me forever.

After seeing the WWII monument, I went on to complete the journey which I really intend, which is to visit the village of Gimmenich on foot, another 2.8km or so.  It's not so far.  On the way, I noticed that there were numerous trees with the markings as depicted on the image on the right.  I've seen these markings before.  The last time was on the side of a road outside of the Bagram airbase in Afghanistan.  My understanding is that this is a marking that indicates land mines.  If this is what those marking means here, it probably means they are left over from the second world war.  Alternatively, this could just be a really wicked and highly effect forestry conservation tactic.  Either way, I'm happy to stay on the trails.

As I approach the peaceful village of Gimmenich.
A war monument in the main circle of the village.  The disks on the gate in front denote
the beginnings of each war, 1914 and 1939 on the left, and the ends of the wars,
1918 and 1945 on the right.
This may be the list of people from Gimmenisch who were killed in the first war.
Of course I was too shy to actually speak to anyone in the village.  There was plenty of opportunity.  There was a perfectly nice and open saloon with a group of people staring suspiciously as I walked past.  I'm sure it would have been a great time if I stopped for a drink.

But it was also getting late, and I needed to walk back to the car, pick up my (travel on) bag in Aachen and then travel to Liege.

Live in peace Gimmenich!