In Flanders Flooded Fields

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In Flanders Flooded Fields Page 27

by Paul Van Pul


  The captain’s thoughts slowly drifted off to the days of his long sea voyages to Africa. When the legendary Congo Boat slowly ploughed its way through the choppy waters of the English channel towards the Gulf of Biscay, the colons 3 got one last chance to catch a glimpse of the old continent. On port, through the mist and the drizzle produced by the foaming wave tops, the passengers could still distinguish the monotonous flash of the Casquets’ lighthouse, a few rocky outcrops twenty-two nautical miles west of Cherbourg. From then on Europe, the mother country, family and friends became a dream, for years, for some even forever. At this moment these thoughts floated through the captain’s mind. When would they all be able to return to their families again? Would it also take years? Would they even survive this murderous clash of arms? There was an even more ominous message locked into these memories. What did Victor Hugo write in his L’Homme qui rit [The Man Who Laughs]?

  To a ship under full sail, rigged with all its tackle and comfortable to handle to its pilot, the beacon of the Casquets is valuable. It shouts watch out! It warns about the cliff. To a ship in distress it is only terrifying. The hull, paralysed, lifeless and without resistance against the mad buckling of the sea, can only go where the breath takes it. It is defenceless against the forces of the wind, as a fish without fins or a bird without wings. The lighthouse shows it the ultimate spot, signals the vanishing point, indicates the shrouding. It is the candle of the sepulchre. (The Man Who Laughs, Part 1, book II, XI)

  Had the king navigated the right course for his country? Would this old lock be the beacon that would guide them all through these dark times and finally bring them into a safe port? Or was the country adrift, out of control and would this lock be the beginning of the end? Would the nation strike a rock, founder and carry everyone to their graves?

  Repair, with sandbags and pickets, of the breach in the levee between the North Vaart (left) and the Furnes Canal (right). The water flows from the inundation towards the canal, whose water level in normal times would be higher than the water in the polder.

  Nieuport 1914–1918, R. Thys, 1922.

  The clear night was eerily quiet. In the distance they could hear guns thunder occasionally and machine guns rattle angrily now and then. Several fires burning unchecked lit up the town.

  Since there was no reason for Cogge to wait for another few hours in the cold autumn night, Captain Thys decided to send him back to the abandoned tavern and the waiting car. He had taken Charles along merely as a local guide so there was no need to have him endure another perilous and sleepless night within easy range of the enemy.

  As they were within 200m of the opposite, presumably hostile riverbank they could but whisper and move around bent down or on hands and knees. Finally, at 06:15, the set-doors slowly swung open and the seawater started to roll inland. This time there were no surprises. The influx increased but the soldiers held the flood doors in their recesses. For the officers there was no more to do. They left the corporal and soldier to watch over the doors and walked back to the car.

  With a detour by the Groenendyke settlement they returned towards Nieuport and the railway bridge across the Furnes Canal. While an exhausted Cogge stayed in the vehicle the officers crossed the bridge on foot to reach the Koolhof Vaart. Here they inspected the construction of the emergency dyke and the solidity of the closed and heightened weir.

  Meanwhile daylight had slowly settled in. A light south-westerly breeze was blowing under a cloudy sky. Satisfied with the work, the officers returned to the motorcar on the north side of the canal and, via Oost-Dunkerke and Wulpen, drove back to Furnes where they arrived shortly before noon.

  NOTES

  1. Some post-war authors made it appear as if Cogge was under surveillance by the constable, as if he was untrustworthy. On the contrary. The whole area was now practically deserted by the local population and instead bristling with mainly foreign military personnel. As such the gendarme acted as a uniformed escort for the elderly civilian.

  2. This exposed location was kept in Belgian hands throughout the war. It became known as the ‘Trench of Death’ and a portion of it has been restored as a memorial.

  3. Colon: French abbreviation of colonial; A Caucasian of the mother country who makes a living in the colony.

  Chapter XIV

  The Bargee is a Daredevil

  On Wednesday morning, 28 October, while Captain Thys and Charles Cogge were on their way back from Nieuport to Furnes, Captain Commandant Jamotte was heading for Dunkirk. There he met with Chief Engineer Bourgeois and the three Belgian engineers of Roads & Bridges.

  Bourgeois had to announce that during the night he had been asked to stop the flow of water towards Furnes and that he had no idea where the countermand originated. Apparently Jamotte had an explanation: various installations of the Belgian Army in the vicinity of Adinkerke were being flooded by the rising water level in the Dunkirk Canal, overflowing its northern bank.

  Jamotte’s remark leaves the impression that the counter order came from Belgian High Command. However, no evidence of this has been found. Besides, as we have seen earlier, only a small portion on the Belgian side of the border could be inundated in this way. The damage on the French side conversely, where a similar topography existed, but over a length of some 13km, must have been far greater.

  Besides, Jamotte continued, the second attempt to open the Spanish Lock had succeeded and they could now manoeuvre the lock doors whenever needed. He also indicated that the flood would be limited to the land between the Yser and the railway embankment and gave a description of the preliminary works that had been carried out.

  The old culvert under the Furnes Canal being in a rather precarious state, Roads & Bridges engineer Bourgoignie urged Jamotte to try to use the North Vaart Gates as soon as possible. It was now a few days from full moon, which meant that each high tide the water level in the West Vaart would be some 10cm higher. Subsequently the dynamic pressures on the culvert abutment wall, with only a submerged opening of five square metres, would get bigger and bigger, enhancing the danger of collapse.

  After their meeting with Bourgois, the three Belgians called on Baron de Broqueville telling him that with the approval of Captain Commandant Jamotte they considered their mission completed and that they would return to Le Havre. They left Dunkirk at 14:30 and arrived in Le Havre the next day at 16:10.

  Along the front line itself a rather calm day passed by. A lot of men in uniform wondered if the enemy too was exhausted or if it was just the calm before the storm. At night the Germans had launched an attack on the railway near the village of Ramscappelle but it had been repelled. Later during the day a few short but violent bombardments erupted here and there which were followed by a few unsupported attacks. All of them were swiftly repulsed.

  Admiral Hood and his squadron were again on the scene off the coast. The supply of shells and loads was running low but, with the impending flood, he was allowed impulsive fire for the next forty-eight hours. With the Venerable, his three monitors and the gunboat Bustard he pounded away at the usual targets in and behind the dunes. This time though he got targets as far inland as St Pierre-Cappelle as the morning air reconnaissance had located a heavy battery and a group of four artillery positions in the vicinity.

  The Germans had realized that this daily fleet bombardment was one of the main factors for them being bogged down in their coastal advance and they were gradually building up their coastal artillery against this annoying and devastating threat. For his part it became clear to Hood that his flotilla was becoming the main target of the enemy heavy batteries and as a consequence his squadron began to suffer more than it had done since the beginning of the operations along the Belgian coast.

  Shortly after noon the destroyer Falcon, on anti-submarine patrol north of Westende, came under heavy and accurate fire from shore batteries. She kept up her assigned patrol path but at 14:00 a direct hit on the foremost six-pounder instantly killed the captain and seven crew members, wounding another
sixteen. Out of action she limped back to Dunkirk. The other ships also took hits but were able to avoid serious injury by altering course every so often. Under these conditions of enforced movement and constant turns, indirect return fire was becoming extremely difficult. Moreover, during the afternoon the sighting of a German U-boat again interrupted the shore bombardment. During the subsequent chase Venerable ran aground on one of the numerous sandbanks off shore. Fortunately she was out of range and as the tide rose she refloated with the assistance of the cruiser Brilliant.

  Queen Elisabeth, still lodged at the Couthof Château of the burgomaster of Proven, was irritated by the inactivity she had been confined to. The previous day she had written a few letters in the early morning then at 09:00 her husband had briefly visited accompanied by General Hanoteau. This time the monarch had been more optimistic. He had told her that the situation between Nieuport and Dixmude was improving. The French 120 and 155-mm guns had been pounding away on the Germans the whole night.

  After his visit the queen strolled in the park surrounding the castle with her two lady companions, Countess de Caraman and Viscountess Colienne de Spoelbergh 1. Later on they found some distraction in knitting socks for the soldiers and in the afternoon the young Doctor Paul Derache dropped in to discuss the problem of the ambulances.

  The destroyer HMS Falcon

  Derache had been appointed as chief surgeon of the Hôpital Fort Louis not far from Dunkirk. This 30-bed hospital had recently been put at the disposal of the Belgians by the French authorities. Mrs Marie Curie-Sklodowska had donated the radiological equipment and the American Embassy had equipped the operating theatre.

  In the evening, before going to bed, the ladies chased the mosquitoes that had invaded the rooms and during the night they were woken by the artillery duels between British and German guns in the distance to the east.

  The tidings arriving in Proven the next day were more hopeful: the railway levee was now firmly held and the intended flood would result in a reduction of the front line thus allowing the re-establishment of reserves. On this reassuring news the queen got on the road again heading back for the coast. From Proven her small party drove to the French border near Rousbrugge from where they continued towards Bergues and Dunkirk. There they visited the wounded soldiers in the hospital at Rosendaël 2, near the canal to Furnes. At 17:00 the commander of her gendarmerie escort, officer Blanpain informed the queen that they would return to La Panne and they reached the Maskens Villa at 18:30.

  The queen would never return to Proven for a night’s stay. For the rest of the war the royal couple remained in La Panne, except for part of 1917 and 1918 when they alternated between La Panne and the Ste Flore Farm in De Moeren polder, a few miles south-west of Furnes.

  In the evening Colonel Brécard had a long meeting with the commander of the 42nd Infantry Division. Usually confident and with a high morale, Grossetti was all of a sudden pessimistic and considered the situation very serious. He figured that his division was walking a tight rope: heavy losses had thinned the ranks and the survivors were exhausted, not to mention that two battalions of his division, together with eight batteries of 75-mm and one cavalry regiment had been withdrawn from the Belgian sector by French High Command to be deployed behind the Ypres Canal.

  Admiral Ronarc’h for his part felt the same: his marines in Dixmude would not hold out much longer. Together with the deplorable state of the Belgian guns this made for quite a distressing situation. As a result Brécard cabled the Generalissimo at 23:30 the following dispatch:

  The Maskens Villa, seaside this time, in the dunes of La Panne. Throughout the war many famous Allied political and military figures visited the Belgian king here. As a souvenir, the queen, an avid photographer herself, would take a picture of their illustrious visitors, often on the steps of the small deck.

  Historical prints collection Callenaere-Dehouck.

  Generalissimo Joseph Joffre pays a visit to the Belgian king at La Panne. From right to left: King Albert in a typical posture, General Joffre and Queen Elisabeth. In the background the Maskens Villa.

  Mémoires du Maréchal Joffre, 1932.

  The morning has been rather quiet but since 14:00 very violent bombardment between Pervyse and Dixmude with 21 and 32 [cm calibre guns]. The flood between the Yser and the railway is not yet complete, but its effect makes itself already felt up to Pervyse.

  Belgian High Command and General Grossetti think that tomorrow the Germans will launch an attack north of Dixmude. The situation is being aggravated by the insufficiency of the Belgian artillery of which many guns are fouled and lack ammunition.

  Earlier in the day he had already sent a message concerning the actual strength of the Belgian Army and the widespread lack of ammunition. He had also said:

  … I advised to economize [on shells] but this is difficult to accomplish for only the artillery has enabled the Belgian Army to hold out and endure.

  In the late afternoon and evening a second high tide was now surreptitiously pushing its way inland. But the results were not that encouraging. Although the Spanish Lock had a width of 5.60m, quite acceptable an opening to provoke a flood in reasonable time, the shallow West Vaart narrowed in three spots. First, 700m upstream of the lock, the bridge on the Oost-Dunkerke Road brought the cross section back to 4.50m. The same happened a second time at the Arch Bridge, another 400m upstream. Finally, a mile from the lock, the water had to pass through the old culvert under the Furnes Canal. Where the West Vaart had not been subjected to tidal water for many years now all of a sudden the rising tide carried along a mishmash of nets, kegs, broken boards, jolly boats and whatever other floating debris a constant bombardment can produce. All these objects collected against the culvert abutment wall, hampering the flow rate.

  The weir on the Great Beaverdyke Vaart partly collapsed during the war as a result of the excessive water pressure. This picture was taken shortly after the disaster. The water level of the inundation was now quickly dropping, over time opening the possibility of a large-scale German attack on the Belgian front. Left, the weir and in front the North Vaart which leads to the tidal gates. The row of trees marks the levee between the North Vaart and the Furnes Canal. From here they run parallel to each other towards the Goose Foot complex.

  Nieuport 1914–1918, R. Thys, 1922.

  In the interwar years it has been argued by some that due to the lack of maintenance in the preceding years, one or more of the openings would have been completely blocked. From a recently resurfaced report from Captain Thys however, we learned that in May 1916 divers from his pontoneers’ company inspected the four channels of the culvert and they did not find any obstructions.

  Another, more important obstruction however, unbeknown at the time, was the weir on the Great Beaverdyke Vaart, a few hundred metres upstream from the culvert. Similar in construction to the weir on the Koolhof Vaart (which was heightened since it formed part of the emergency dyke), the stop planks in the dam had not yet been removed for the winter season. The military engineers, unfamiliar with the local situation, were not aware of the existence of this structure nor had Charles Cogge mentioned it. As a result the rising water at first began to fill up the adjacent wide North Vaart and the ditches in the fields along the railway embankment towards the paved road to Ramscappelle. So with hindsight it is no surprise that in the evening at the closed underpass of the Venepe Vaart, only 5km south of Nieuport, the water level was still unchanged. But to the military at the time this news was quite distressing: they had to flood an area of some 30 square kilometres and stretching as far back as 12km inland in the shortest possible time.

  After the war, critics have often argued that this blockage prevented a swift inland advance of the seawater. Conversely, with the abundant rains of the previous two weeks the weir had held up a considerable amount of surface water, thus ‘saving’ water for the upcoming flooding manoeuvres. Anyway, this would explain the surprisingly positive effect over the whole area two days later after this
rather discouraging slow start.

  After the collapse the weir on the Great Beaverdyke Vaart was sealed off from the inundation with a cofferdam made out of sandbags to allow for reconstruction. Here we get a good idea of the size of this ‘small’ structure. We should not forget that all activity in no man’s land could only be carried out with manpower and simple tools.

  Nieuport 1914–1918 R. Thys, 1922.

  Strangely enough Charles Cogge has always remained silent on this matter. It has been mentioned by some authors that he was responsible for the seasonal placement, and removal, of these stop planks but that is highly unlikely. Cogge lived in Furnes and the weir was near Nieuport. Quite probably someone from the Water Board in Nieuport, or perhaps even the lock personnel at the Goose Foot, were responsible for the proper workings of the weir.

  A similar weir existed a mile upstream, the Great Beaverdyke Vaart at Ketelersdam, not far from St Georges. Strangely Captain Thys only learned about the existence of both weirs on 2 January 1915. Subsequently, in a daring nocturnal excursion by shallop – by then the polder was no-man’s-land – he managed to open the first weir on 4 January. Ten days later, in a similar action, he discovered that the weir at Ketelersdam was open.

  Certainly totally frustrated by the lack of progress was Henry Geeraert, the bargee who had assisted Second Lieutenant François at the Spring Sluice with the flood of the Nieuwendamme Creek on 21 October. After this exploit Geeraert had somehow managed to stay in Nieuport, close to the locks and the Belgian pontoneers. With them he lived in the small vaulted cellars of the deserted, crumbling town. Now that it looked as if the enemy was going to overrun the Belgians in the final hours before the flood would reach its full extent, Geeraert was definitely upset.

 

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