Search for a man's memoirs, soldiers enter a town

[Tom Morgan]

I'm trying to remember where I have read something.

Somwhere in the dim past I remember reading an acount in a soldier's memoirs in which the man's unit had been on the march for some time, if I remember correctly, covering a large distance by easy stages. They saw that they were getting nearer to the battle-lines, day by day. Eventually, by night, they marched into the streets of a ruined town and they realised that it was Ypres. They had never been there before, but had heard of it, of course. The memoir recalled the men's excitement at having entered such a famous place.

Can anyone recall who wrote about this? Or any other accounts of arriving in Ypres that Pals have in their books?

Tom

[John S]

Tom

I don’t know the book you mention but below is an extract from Norman Ellison’s memoires ‘Remembrances of Hell’. He served with 1/6 King’s Liverpool Regiment.

This is written on his first movement up to Ypres on 4 March 1915 after having left Bailleul on 2 March and marched via Locre, La Clytte, Zevecotten and Ouderdom to Busseboom.

‘Last night we left Busseboom and marched to a large town, Ypres, at present being bombarded by the Germans. At Vlamertinghe we had joined the main road from Poperinghe and taken our place in an endless procession of limbers, lorries and marching troops all bound for Ypres- the gate way to the Salient. This very ordinary road – the ‘Pop’ Road was, by the necessities of war, to gain a universal notoriety such as no grand boulevard in the capitals of the world could ever boast. The only main road leading rearwards from Ypres, it became the great artery which pumped an unceasing flow of life blood – ammunition, food and human beings – into the very heart of the Salient. Each in its turn, every battalion of the British and Colonial Forces must have passed between the stones of the bloody mills there which ground so exceeding small and the survivors who had trudged back along its shell-pocked pave, had carried its ill-fame the world over.

It was gathering dusk as we marched between the ghostly poplars which sentinelled its straightness for mile after mile. It rained, as it had rained all winter, and a chill wet wind rustled the bare branches. On either hand and several feet below the road level stretched the flatness of the dreary Flanders plain; field after field of mud and sodden slime. Here and there stood a deserted farmhouse skeletonised by shell fire; the twinkle of a shaded candle from some hidden battery position in a ditch or clump of trees; and almost encircling us – so it appeared – an endless rising and falling of magnesium flares over the Front Line trenches. Faintly in the distance was the rattle of rifle fire, punctuated by the stabbing flash and the deeper boom of a bursting shell. We tramped on.... and on. The order @NO Smoking’ was passed down the ranks and we knew we were approaching our destination. Guides led us through deserted streets of empty houses, many collapsed in heaps of rubble, others roofless or without fronts, to our quarters in the Cavalry Barracks. The place was dirty and sour smelling, but the soldier on active service asks for nothing more than six feet of dry sleeping place and a roof over his head. So we came to Ypres.’

Hope this is of interest to you.

Regards

John

[Tom Morgan]

That's not it, John, but wow - what a brilliantly-written description. And it comes from a memoir I haven't read. I'm glad to have seen it though and I shall have to look that one up. Thanks for posting it.

Tom

[John S]

Tom

Browsing through some old files of mine and came across this quote. Again I don't think it is the one you are referring to but it may be of interest.

Taken from '1915' by Lyn Macdonald p219.

L Cpl J Dorgan 7th Battalion Northumberland Fusiliers

We arrived at the outskirts of Ypres and marched through the square. Shells were dropping on the cobbled stone and some of the lighter shells and shrapnel were spreading right across the square and the Cloth Hall and Cathedral were on fire. We had our first casualty going through the square. Tommy Rachael who was a postman in Ashington. He was marching behind me and he shouted out, he said ‘I’m wounded’. Nobody would believe him then somebody said, ‘there’s blood coming down his legs. Another fellow said ‘Help him, help him somebody He’s not going to drop out. We’re the Northumberland Fusiliers’. That was the spirit we had

As we reached the outskirts, we didn’t know where we were going, neither officers nor men. After having an hour or two’s sleep just outside of Ypres we marched on in the early hours of April 25th under heavy shell fire.

I believe the 7th Northumberland Fusiliers landed in France on 20 April 1915. The first night they had spent in trains moving slowly North, the second night in billets around Kemmel. On 23 April they marched into Ypres on their way to the front.

Regards

John

[Tom Morgan]

John, apologies for having taken so long in acknowledging your latest contribution. I only just noticed it. Again, that's not the memoir I'm looking for, but it's another excellent account which I'm glad to have found.

Tom