5 Days by bike: Day Five

The first poison gas attacks took place at the Second Battle of Ypres.

The Canadian First Division, who made up the majority of the victims of this attack are commemorated at the Canadian Memorial in the hamlet of St Julian northwest of Ypres, on the road towards Langemarck.

Better known at the Brooding Soldier, this is one of four sites we want to see today on our final ride out, leaving ourselves a few hours to spend in the beautiful little city of Ypres.

The Brooding Soldier is on the corner of the N313 and Zonnebeke Street and at 11meters stands like a sentinel. He stands in the Arms Reversed posture, the traditional military salute to the fallen. It’s another of those ‘must sees’ which gives up more information each time you visit it.

2 000 Men fell here in the battle between 22^nd and 24^th April 1915.

The gas was released at 5pm on the 22^nd from cylinders embedded in the ground. The Canadians weren’t the only ones to suffer: Two colonial French divisions were forced from their positions ‘with gray faces and protruding eyeballs, clutching their throats and choking as they ran, many of them dropping in their tracks and lying on the sodden earth with limbs convulsed and features distorted in death,’ according to a British officer.

This was just the start of gas warfare, and it was quickly developed and used by both sides throughout the war.

It’s a short ride through the pretty and orderly little town of Langemark-Poelkapelle to the Langemarck German Cemetery.

More than 44 000 are buried here, including 25 000 in a mass grave. The place is also called the Deutsche 'Studentenfriedhof', because of more than 3 000 student volunteers who died here during October and November 1914 during the First Battle of Ypres.  These are the students of the famous ‘short, heroic and glorious war’ myth.

There are three ‘collecting’ German cemeteries in Flanders which contain the remains of 127 000 of German soldiers. Of the three, Mene is the largest, but Langemarck the most interesting because of the myth, and because a certain Adolf Hitler used the cemetery in his propaganda photographs after the defeat of Belgium in World War 2. 

The Myth of Langemarck arose after 10,000 German regulars and reservists, including green young volunteers, marched to their deaths during fighting in West Flanders in the dying days of the opening German offensive of the war.

The race to the sea, and the capturing of the Channel ports was already a lost cause when the chief of staff, General von Falkenhayn ordered one last push. Into this rush was thrown ill-trained young volunteers and older reservists: some arrived exhausted after a long night-time march and faced with experienced British regulars, they were massacred.

More attacks all failed, until a small French-defended village just west of Langemarck fell to the Germans.

But PR mattered, and a communique issued by the high command said, translated, as follows: West of Langemarck, youth regiments singing ‘Germany, Germany Above All’ advanced on front-line enemy positions, broke and took them. Approximately 2,000 French line infantry and six machine guns were captured.’

The myth of Langemarck became a rallying point and remained an inspiration for the far right. In fact, the main building built for Hitler’s 1936 showcase Olympic Games was named Langemarckhalle.

Off to the side of the cemetery is a 26-panel peace monument, the construction of which brought 200 blacksmiths from all over the world together to create. This was brought here, after being constructed in Ypres in 1916.

The 11, 5-tonne cenotaph, at the centre of the panels, consists of a dramatic but simple piece of steel containing a negative/positive image of a single poppy. The negative represents all the victims, the positive, the hope for a better future that grows out of their sacrifice. At the basis of this central part is a field of 2016 hand forged poppies forged by the blacksmiths. One of these is white, representing those soldiers who were executed by their own.

It’s the 26 panels which surround the poppies, arranged similarly to trenches, that is of interest, as each one reflects the designer’s own insight into war.

Belgium is perfect for cycling, and despite already having covered some miles, the ease of the effort means that there’s still energy to visit the Yorkshire Farm Dugout and then along the canal back into Ypres, but not before a visit to the Essex Farm Cemetery.

The land here was used as a dressing station from April 1915 to August 1917 and there are some 1200 servicemen buried or commemorated here. For me, the last of many cemeteries we’ve visited, this one’s overshadowed by the bunkers of the dressing station and the memorials to John McCrae, for it’s here that he wrote his famous ‘In Flanders Fields’ in May 1915 after one of his friends, Alexis Helmer, was killed. John McCrae caught pneumonia in January 1918 and died. He is buried at Wimereux Cemetery.

The dressing stations are well preserved, but they’re dark and damp inside. They give a small glimpse of the conditions they medical staff were working under at the time.

It’s a straight road back into Ypres and we end the tour under the Menin Gate, joining locals and visitors to stand silently for the nightly 8pm ceremony.

It’s home tomorrow, but what a trip. I hope you’ll join me next time.