In Flanders Flooded Fields

by Paul Van Pul

  While the modest Belgian request had stated ‘… that a British warship was anxiously desired to flank the Belgian line …’ Joffre’s eloquent dispatch apparently carried more weight. Within two hours Admiral Hood had his orders.

  In the evening, Second Lieutenant Lucien François arrived at the lock system in Nieuport to take command of the engineers’ unit guarding the structures. Originally Second Lieutenant Coulon had been assigned but for unknown reasons it was François who took command of the detachment.

  Lucien Alfred François François, barely twenty-one, was a native of Morlanwelz, a small community in the heart of Walloon coal mining country. At the start of the war he rejoined his engineer unit attached to the Antwerp Fortified Position and in October made the retreat from Antwerp to Nieuport. Here on 13 October, with the reorganization of the Field Army, he was posted to the Second Engineer Battalion, Second Army Division, under the command of Captain Commandant Borlon. His colleagues would characterize him as a gentil gosse — a nice kid.

  At La Panne King Albert, returning from General Headquarters in Furnes, could only paint a gloomy picture of the situation for his wife. The queen later that evening wrote in her diary that they dined, as usual, with General Élie Hanoteau and Captain Commandant Emile Galet. If his two confidants could not bolster the royal morale that meant they too were pessimistic. Did they now regret the decision to forego an evacuation to Britain? Nevertheless Galet wrote in his field journal: ‘While the situation is rather bad, for the first time I see it in a favourable light.’

  Only the fact that all western troops were in line could appease their cautious military minds.

  NOTES

  1. The then official designation ‘Five-Bridges Road’ is certainly misleading. In 1914 it was the main road from Nieuport to Ostend. It left Nieuport to the east, made a semicircle across the six hydraulic structures and then turned straight north heading for Lombartzyde. In the mid-1800s though, the main road to Ostend left the town straight north, crossing the Yser Mouth via a wooden bridge (see map). The Nieuwbedelf and North Vaart Gates, as well as the Count Lock did not exist then. Instead the fortifications surrounding the town had an East Gate leading to the Bruges Road. It was this road that passed five bridges: it crossed the fortress moat, the forerunners of the Furnes and Ypres Locks, the Spring Sluice and the Bruges Canal. As we will see later in detail by 1914 the only original – and peculiar – structure left on this road was the Spring Sluice. After the war the same road was moved 40m eastward to clear the lock chambers.

  2. There are several, some times rather folksy stories about the way in which Henry Geeraert at first got involved with the military. The account that we put forward is the one that appears most often in the various archival records and the one that fits best in the detailed chain of events as we have been able to reconstruct them in the past fifteen years of our research. It is therefore, in our view, the most reasonable and plausible.

  3. Distance measuring along the canalized Yser River is done by means of kilometre-stones, starting with km 0 [zero] at the Ypres Lock in Nieuport. The lock in turn is already 4km from the mouth of the river, measured along the Yser Channel.

  Chapter VI

  The Generals Come to Town

  Being in line with the French and British armies did not automatically mean that the coming battles would be easier. It could be expected that German High Command would rather take on the Belgian twelve-month conscript than the French three-year soldier or the British six-year professional.

  As one can expect the phrase ‘fighting to the utmost’ was unknown to the Belgian conscript. Military discipline was at an all time low within the rank and file, not because of contempt for its superiors but simply because of sheer ignorance. Nevertheless it was now a matter of pride, honour and national survival that the Belgian soldier should act as bravely as his French and British brothers-in-arms.

  An energetic act was necessary to bolster morale and convince all ranks that a dynamic resistance and an ultimate sacrifice were required. From now on the Belgians would be equal to the French and the British: they had been entrusted, perhaps unwillingly but certainly too early, with the responsibility for the integrity of their own sector in the common front line.

  To that end King Albert decided to personally make a tour of the divisional headquarters in the morning of 16 October and relay his message on the spot to his generals and their staff. The outline of his speech was straightforward:

  Our position in general is strong but more entrenching is required.

  We are tired, but so is the enemy.

  Wherever possible: let the troops rest now, before the battle.

  We must hold our positions, therefore:

  –

  The general whose troops retreat will be dismissed on the spot.

  –

  The officer whose troops leave their trenches will be dismissed.

  –

  Under no pretext, even if the line is broken, will there be a retreat.

  –

  The staff officers will be spread out along the respective front line sectors and incorporated into the fighting units. They will stay in combat and relieve the courageous leaders instead of complaining all the time.

  General Joffre too was concerned about the fighting power of the weakened Belgian Army. As the Belgians stood with their backs against the French border and, as a result, on the perimeter of the Dunkirk Fortified Place, it fell upon them to protect this major common storage and debarkation base.

  So that same morning the Generalissimo dispatched a couple of cables to Foch in order to underline his apprehension. He suggested that Foch should transport both territorial divisions from Ypres to the coast and he offered to send an active division to the north, available in Dunkirk on 21 October.

  In reality though, in the ensuing days the 87th and 89th Territorials strengthened their positions along the Ypres Canal so the weakened Belgian 5th and 6th army divisions could be moved north behind the Yser. But we will track in detail the whereabouts of the active French division, the 42nd Infantry, that Joffre offered.

  Foch himself also had his doubts about the combative spirit of the Belgian soldier. As adjoint to the Generalissimo, responsible for the northern theatre of operations, Foch could concentrate more on the issue. A few days earlier he had already mentioned to Joffre that he contemplated visiting Belgian High Command in Furnes. So on Friday 16 October he left his headquarters at Doullens, 65km south of St Omer, and paid his first brisk visit to the northern front, in order to assess the unstable situation. He took with him two bright young staff officers – Commandant Desticker, a native of the north himself and Lieutenant André Tardieu, a reserve officer and well known journalist with a thousand ‘connections’ both in civilian and military life. After the war the latter would become a prominent French politician.

  In the morning Foch and his associates called on Sir John French in St Omer. For the time being the BEF was the only fist available to him with which he might stop the German progress. French and Foch had met before the war but did not know each other well. Sir John French feared that Ferdinand Foch might be another Joseph Joffre, seemingly unmanageable, rather aloof and at first sight slow of mind. But the clever Foch knew how to confront the white-haired Field Marshal.

  A week or so earlier he had met Sir John for the first time since the war had started. In the best French style he had proved to be elegant, chatty and gentlemanly. Foch knew very well how to flatter the old Irish horseman. He had won him right over by telling him that he did not like General Henry Rawlinson operating in Belgium under direct orders from the British War Office. He had told him he would take steps to get all British troops on the continent under one command, understandably that of Sir John himself, of course!

  The French used to nickname Rawlinson le Nickelé ‘the Nickelled’ for their inability to manipulate him. Foch’s successful intervention with Joffre a few days earlier had eliminated Rawlinson from the upper chain of com
mand and had left the more flexible Sir John French as the sole British commander he would have to deal with.

  Both men discussed their planned offensive west of Lille. French too was convinced that the enemy had exhausted most of its reserves in the Battle of the Marne and that the most dangerous phase of the war was now over. During the conversation Foch, who had been briefed by Joffre, brought up the necessity of the cooperation of the Grand Fleet on the northern flank. After taking leave Foch drove the 40km north to Dunkirk, the first French fortified position along the Channel coast and now threatened by the German advance.

  On several occasions in the past centuries this strategically located port had been disputed territory between the European powers. Noteworthy for instance is the date of 14 June 1658 during the Battle of the Dunes. In the morning the town was Spanish, at noon she was French, and in the evening she was in English hands. The English did not seem to be overly happy with their conquest since four years later they sold the whole works again to France. The French name of Dunkerque in fact is derived from the Flemish Duinkerke, which means ‘church in the dunes’!

  After the war, Maréchal de France, Ferdinand Foch.

  Ons Land, magazine, 1919.

  Along the road, shrouded in fog, the three French officers had to halt every so often at road blocks set up by the French cavalry, say the password and present their identity papers, but finally they made it into the port city. Foch’s main aim here was to inspect the state of the defences. This included overseeing the progress that had been made to prepare the flooding of the countryside around the city.

  The canals and ditches in the polders around Dunkirk had already been filled to the brink by holding up the surface runoff. Once the order was given, it would only be a matter of a few hours to open the sea sluices and let the next tide roll in. Soon after, the waterways would overflow onto the land. (see map p.181)

  As Baron de Broqueville was in Dunkirk, supervising the installation of the Belgian supply base, Foch took the opportunity to meet with him and throw out feelers about the mood at Belgian General Headquarters. The Belgian Minister of War vigorously defended the Belgian case. As a skilled politician he knew that the very existence of the kingdom was now at stake. Foch, every inch a soldier, grasped the psychological importance of the ‘National Soil’ issue for the Belgian fighting spirit. For him it was a matter of finally blocking the German steamroller with every infantryman available. So, although for different reasons, both men now saw an opportunity to counter the invader and they agreed to motor together to Furnes and meet King Albert and his staff.

  The cobbled road from Dunkirk to Furnes, some 20km, would in normal circumstances not have taken long. But this time the small convoy of cars had to make its way against an endless stream of refugees pushing small handcarts that held their meagre belongings. The route, as it bordered the canal from Dunkirk to Furnes, had long straight sections, but the chauffeurs had to drive carefully, continuously manoeuvring to avoid the shuffling stream of miserable human beings.

  Once in the small picturesque town of Furnes matters did not ease. The place was crowded with bands of Belgian soldiers, dressed more or less in their dark blue uniforms, a lot apparently without footwear as their feet were wrapped in rags.

  Upon arrival Foch first went to see his liaison officer, Colonel Brécard to be briefed. Then, accompanied by Brécard, the French General marched across the Grand Place making his way to the small renaissance town hall in the north-west corner. With a resolute pace the portly bigourdan 1 followed Baron de Broqueville, whirled passed the cast iron gas lantern in front of the building and, with a determined look, took the four steps underneath one of the finely decorated arches supporting the balcony.

  City Hall in Furnes today. The gas lantern in front of it has been replaced and relocated by a more modern fixture. Otherwise the outside – as well as the inside – of the building is identical to its appearance in 1914. The beautifully restored, ornate gilded façade looks perhaps even more vibrant than ever.

  Author’s Photo Archive.

  Inside, in a room decorated with seventeenth century Flemish leather and a heavy oak ceiling, General Hanoteau, Colonel Wielemans and Captain Commandant Maglinse, welcomed the Generalissimo’s deputy.

  After the customary welcoming and greetings, the small group retreated behind closed doors. Here Foch began explaining the reason for his visit. This seemingly everlasting retreat had to be stopped now regardless of the cost. Instead the Belgians should switch to more aggressive action. To begin with they needed to dig themselves in.

  Wielemans, although an admirer of this French rhetoric, was, by now, exhausted and pessimistic about the outcome of the coming hostilities. One of his arguments against Foch’s point of view was the fact that groundwater in the region was practically at soil level, making it almost impossible for the men to dig trenches. General Hanoteau, for once in a more compromising mood and following King Albert’s point of view – or was it orders – agreed with the notion to hold the Yser River but ruled out any forward adventures by his weakened fellow countrymen.

  Foch kept trying to make his point – ranting and underlining his phrases with sudden, quick gestures. The Belgian staff officers endured the whole tirade. Through the heavy oak doors the other members of the staff and the remainder of the French delegation could hear Foch shouting: ‘Attaque, attaque’. After a while he calmed down, perhaps realizing that this kind of behaviour had no effect on the level-headed Belgians. He could not dictate terms as he had done with his confrères the generals Castelnau and Maud’huy on 5 October. Alone with Maud’huy in his office his staff officers had heard Foch screaming:

  I don’t want to listen! You understand? I don’t want to listen! I’m deaf! I know only three ways of fighting: attack, resist and run. I forbid you to do the last one. Choose between the first two!

  Finally Foch ended his diatribe on a more sensible and practical note: he stressed that the town of Dixmude was firmly held by his fusiliers marins and that this presented a stronghold for the Belgians from which they had to build a defensive line further out along the river.

  At the time Ferdinand Foch was mainly known abroad as a military writer, even somewhat disputed by his compatriots. The Belgians, having been subjected to overwhelming pressure by the German Imperial Army for more than two months, did not appreciate a lesson in basic tactics by a mere stranger. The French author Jean Ratinaud perhaps expressed the view of the Belgians best:

  General [sic] Galet, and his Master [King Albert], were of the opinion that they were facing a scatter-brain – ‘un hurluberlu’.

  The north-west corner of the Furnes Market Square at the beginning of the war. In the corner on the left City Hall with its characteristic balcony. In front the Court House and behind it the Saint Walburga Church. Notice the gaping hole from a German shell in the church steeple. Although 9km behind the front line, the town was severely damaged from enemy fire during the war. After the war the square was restored to its original beauty and is now a major, year-round tourist attraction.

  Thys Family Archive.

  After lunch, taken at the French Mission, Foch was informed that the king of the Belgians would receive him. The French officers returned to the town hall and made their way through the council chamber to the salle des Ecbevins [Alderman’s room]. The king, in his dark blue uniform of lieutenant general, tall and slender, waited at the doorstep. As a welcoming gesture, and after shaking hands, the king amiably complimented the general on his military ideas, well known from his writings. With a short gesture of his right hand the general responded bluntly: ‘The art of warfare? That doesn’t exist!’

  This rather tactless response chilled his audience. In fact it did not even reflect the doctrine he himself had promoted all these years! If this reaction startled everyone, it did not show on King Albert’s face. One could well imagine seeing the king’s eyes for a split second flashing over Foch’s head to his senior advisors but then the monarch courteously
invited the general in.

  While the larger council chamber, lined with aged Malines leather and its rococo style fireplace, might have suited the flamboyant general, the Aldermen’s Court corresponded undoubtedly better with the king’s character. The room was smaller; the walls lined with seventeenth century Utrecht velvet, similar to the upholstery of the furniture. The fire had been stoked and was radiating a most welcome warmth on this cold and damp October day.

  For General Foch it was the first time he had met with the Belgian monarch. The king, thirty-nine years old, could well have been his son. Nevertheless Foch felt rather embarrassed and did not know how to approach this affable young man; head of a neighbouring state and already famous worldwide for his honour and duty? He knew he had to control himself but at the same time he wanted to get his important message through.

  At first the Frenchman was impressed. He defined the main lines of the Entente manoeuvre as it stood for the moment. Then again, he could only talk about offensive actions. The French-British endeavour would be directed towards Lille with the main northern drive by Ypres and Roulers towards Courtrai. The General wanted the Belgian Army to cooperate in this attack. He explained that he, himself, had pushed the enemy back at the Marne and, as the Belgians only faced newly formed German reserve units, there was no doubt in his mind that they would be able to throw these fresh, non-regular troops back.

  But King Albert knew the situation in Flanders better than anyone. He explained to the General that, by being the Head of the Belgian Kingdom and bound by its constitution, he could only engage his meagre military resources after mature consideration, above all at this moment when the very existence of the nation was at stake. The king continued by explaining all the precautions that had been taken to defend the position along the Yser River. Nevertheless the nature of the terrain did not allow for a textbook organization. Besides, along the 40km long front line the troops were stretched out thinly with barely two brigades on stand-by. Physically and mentally the troops were not capable of any offensive action. The most that could be expected of them was a stubborn resistance, and even then only for a couple more days. The monarch told the French general also that, in his opinion, a major attack by the Germans on the Belgian sector could be expected soon. The only way to withstand such an assault would be the addition of major reinforcements within days. The king stressed that this would not only be beneficial to the Belgian cause but that it would serve that of the French and British also.