THE THEATRE OF OPERATIONS

The country in which it was hoped to bring about the final decision of the campaign of 1914 was not favourable to an attack from east to west.

Western Flanders, the most western part of Belgium, is almost completely flat, and lies only slightly above sea-level, and in some parts is even below it. Mount Kemmel, in the south, is the only exception; rising to a height of over 500 feet, it is the watch-tower of Western Flanders. Before the war it was a well-wooded ridge with pretty enclosures and villages. From its slopes and summits could be seen the whole countryside from Lille to Menin and Dixmude.

The possession of this hill was of great importance. Our cavalry actually occupied it during the early days of October, but when the enemy advanced he immediately attacked it. The XIX Saxon Corps was still too far away to help, and so Mount Kemmel fell into the enemy’s hands. During the battle of Ypres it was his best observation post, and of the utmost assistance to his artillery.

We repeatedly succeeded in gaining a footing on the eastern crest of the ridge in front of Ypres, but in the autumn of 1914, as also later in the war, this was always the signal for the most desperate fighting. It was thus that the heights of St. Eloi,[19] the high-lying buildings of Hooge and the village of Wytschaete won their sanguinary fame.

Lying in the midst of luxuriant meadows, with its high ramparts and fine buildings, Ypres was formerly one of the most picturesque towns in Flanders. In the fourteenth century it had a considerable importance, and became the centre of the cloth-weaving trade on its introduction from Italy. Bruges, lying close to the coast, became the market for its wares. The Clothweavers’ Guild, which accumulated great wealth, erected in Ypres a fine Gothic hall, whose towers with those of St. Martin’s Church were landmarks for miles round. In modern times, however, the importance of the town greatly diminished. The cloth-weaving industry drifted away to the factories of Menin and Courtrai; and Ypres, like its dead neighbour Bruges, remained only a half-forgotten memory of its former brilliance.

The war has brought fresh importance to the town, but of a mournful kind. On the impact of the German and Anglo-French masses in Flanders in the autumn of 1914, it became the central pivot of the operations. The enemy dug his heels into the high ground in front of it; for, as an Englishman has written, it had become a point of honour to hold the town. Ypres lay so close to the front that our advance could be seen from its towers, and the enemy was able to use it for concealing his batteries and sheltering his reserves. For the sake of our troops we had to bring it under fire; for German life is more precious than the finest Gothic architecture. Thus the mythical death of Ypres became a reality: no tower now sends forth its light across the countryside, and a wilderness of wrecked and burnt-out houses replaces the pretty town so full of legend and tradition in the history of Flanders.

The streams which run northwards from the hills about Ypres unite for the most part near the town and flow into the Yser canal, which connects the Lys at Comines with the sea at Nieuport. This canal passes through the Ypres ridge near Hollebeke and, following northwards the course of a small canalised tributary of the Yser, meets the Yser itself south of Dixmude. The dunes at Nieuport have been cut through by engineers for its exit to the sea. It is only from Dixmude northwards that the canal becomes an obstacle which requires proper bridging equipment for its passage. Its high embankments to the south of Dixmude, however, give excellent cover in the otherwise flat country and greatly simplify the task of the defender.

The canal acquired a decisive importance when the hard-pressed Belgians, during the battle on the night of 29th-30th October, let in the sea at flood-tide through the sluices into the canal, and then by blowing up the sluice-gates at Nieuport, allowed it to flood the battlefield along the lower Yser. By this means they succeeded in placing broad stretches of country under water, so much so that any extensive military operations in that district became out of the question. The high water-level greatly influenced all movements over a very large area. By his order the King of the Belgians destroyed for years the natural wealth of a considerable part of his fertile country, for the sea-water must have ruined all vegetation down to its very roots.

The country on both sides of the canal is flat, and difficult for observation purposes. The high level of the water necessitates drainage of the meadows, which for this purpose are intersected by deep dykes which have muddy bottoms. The banks of the dykes are bordered with willows, and thick-set hedges form the boundaries of the cultivated areas. Generally speaking, the villages do not consist of groups of houses: the farms are dispersed either singly, or in rows forming a single street. The country is densely populated and is consequently well provided with roads. But these are only good where they have been made on embankments and are paved. The frequent rains, which begin towards the end of October, rapidly turn the other roads into mere mud tracks and in many cases make them quite useless for long columns of traffic.

The digging of trenches was greatly complicated by rain and surface-water. The loam soil was on the whole easy to work in; but it was only on the high ground that trenches could be dug deep enough to give sufficient cover against the enemy’s artillery fire; on the flat, low-lying ground they could not in many cases be made more than two feet deep.

A few miles south of the coast the country assumes quite another character: there are no more hedges and canals: instead gently rolling sand-hills separate the land from the sea, and this deposited sand is not fertile like the plains south of them. A belt of dunes prevents the sea encroaching on the land.

The greatest trouble of the attacker in all parts of Flanders is the difficulty of observation. The enemy, fighting in his own country,[20] had every advantage, while our artillery observation posts were only found with the utmost trouble. Our fire had to be directed from the front line, and it frequently happened that our brave artillerymen had to bring up their guns into the front infantry lines in order to use them effectively. Although the enemy was able to range extremely accurately on our guns which were thus quickly disclosed, nothing could prevent the German gunners from following the attacking infantry.

Observation from aeroplanes was made very difficult by the many hedges and villages, so that it took a long time to discover the enemy’s dispositions and give our artillery good targets.

Finally, the flat nature of the country and the consequent limitations of view were all to the advantage of the defenders, who were everywhere able to surprise the attackers. Our troops were always finding fresh defensive lines in front of them without knowing whether they were occupied or not. The British, many of whom had fought in a colonial war against the most cunning of enemies in equally difficult country, allowed the attacker to come to close quarters and then opened a devastating fire at point-blank range from rifles and machine-guns concealed in houses and trees.

In many cases the hedges and dykes split up the German attacks so that even the biggest operations degenerated into disconnected actions which made the greatest demands on the powers of endurance and individual skill of our volunteers. In spite of all these difficulties our men, both old and young, even when left to act on their own initiative, showed a spirit of heroism and self-sacrifice which makes the battle on the Yser a sacred memory both for the Army and the Nation, and every one who took part in it may say with pride, ‘I was there.’