In Flanders Flooded Fields

by Paul Van Pul

  Author’s photo archive.

  In the early 1950s a last national tribute would be paid to this cherished folk hero: his effigy appeared on the 1,000 francs banknote, back to back with the other Belgian legend of the Great War, King Albert himself.

  After the war lockmaster Gerard Dingens returned to his locks to supervise their reconstruction. As retired Head Lockmaster he was back at work from August 1919 onwards. He passed away in Nieuport in 1926. Perhaps due to his authoritarian character but certainly because of his strong but honest, personal views on the military situation in 1914, he had lost out in becoming a national hero.

  The Belgian Army, although seriously decimated and technically cut off from its recruiting base, managed to make an impressive comeback. During the war 30,000 young men managed to escape from occupied Belgium and volunteer for their own army. These journeys were a courageous exploit in themselves. Often dressed in rubber suits and equipped with wire-cutters, guides at night brought these daring patriots through the live, electrical barbed wire set up by the Germans along the Dutch-Belgian border. Then travelling undercover through Holland they still had to make it to England before they could enlist in the army. By 1918 the Belgian Army was back at its pre-war strength. It guarded a front line of over 30km, from Nieuport-Bains on the coast to Langemarck, just north of Ypres. In September 1918 the Belgian ‘Army on the Yser’ comprised almost 170,000 men. At the outbreak of the war the total strength, including the Garrison Army, had been close to 190,000 men.

  In 1950 the Belgian Central Bank printed a 1,000 franc banknote with on one side King Albert I and on the back a tribute to the ‘saviour of the country’ Henry Geeraert and the flood along the Yser River. Buisseret’s design was a composition of Geeraert’s bust as seen on a picture earlier in this book and in the background an engraving after another picture taken by Captain Thys. On the right we see part of the Furnes Lock gantry and a view of the tidal bay. At the time when the picture was taken, the land abutment of the gantry had been washed away due to repeated shell bursts. These bank notes were withdrawn in 1958.

  Historical prints collection Callenaere-Debouck.

  Even more important, it was now better trained, better equipped and better led than ever before.

  King Albert, who was to become known and revered by his fellow countrymen as the King-Soldier, never relinquished his supreme command of the Belgian Army in favour of an Allied Commander. Quite the reverse happened. For the final Allied offensive in 1918 then Marshal Ferdinand Foch, Supreme Allied Commander, honoured King Albert by presenting him with the command of the Army Group Flanders. This temporary formation was composed of the Belgian Army, the French 7th Army Corps, the British 2nd Army and the French 2nd Cavalry Corps. It would be the first and only time in history that a king of the Belgians would command a large foreign army group.

  Through careful and compassionate management of his precious human resources the king had been able to avoid the so bloody and most of the time senseless offensives that had been ordered by French and British commanders in the field.

  Only recently historians came to reveal a totally different side of this beloved monarch: that of the king-peacemaker, or a man far ahead of his time. All through the war, he secretly tried to open up a diplomatic channel for talks aimed at an all-encompassing peace based on a ‘no victors’ concept. Unfortunately his relentless efforts never paid off.

  The North Vaart Gates at the end of 1918. Only two of the original eight gates were still usable. The tower on the right is what remains of the reinforced concrete observation post established at the strategically located Café de l’Yser.

  Nieuport 1914-1918, R. Thys, 1922.

  In the autumn of 1919 the Belgian royal couple embarked on the USS George Washington for an official, almost triumphant visit to the United States where they visited both the west and east coasts. Here we see King Albert (left, in uniform) and Queen Elisabeth (lady on the right) in Central Park in New York where no less than 22,000 children cheered them on.

  Ons Land, magazine, 1919.

  To close the so-called ‘Visé Gap’ north of Liège, which the Germans had used to get quick access to central Belgium in 1914, a new fort was built at Eben-Emael in 1932. Perhaps it was impregnable to ground troops but in 1940 it was no match for German paratroopers who landed right on top of it. Here we see German soldiers gathered around the cross of remembrance which they erected on the roof of the complex to honour their comrades fallen during the operation.

  Author’s photo archive.

  Two of the king’s close advisors from early on, Prudent Nuyten and Émile Galet, continued their promising military careers after the Great War.

  Galet, as Lieutenant General, became Army Chief of Staff in 1929, succeeded in 1931 by his comrade-in-arms, Nuyten. At that moment dark war clouds were again gathering over Europe. Unswervingly Galet and Nuyten expressed their far-sighted ideas and practical proposals for a mobile defence of the country. But their voices were silenced in the political jungle of the inter-war period. Instead more taxpayers’ money and reinforced concrete was poured into ever bigger and presumably ‘better’ fortifications.

  After four years in the front line the town of Nieuport – now the city of Nieuwpoort – was totally levelled. In 1919 a massive reconstruction project was started and within a few years the city and its famous locks had risen from their ashes.

  The Yser Mouth, once the extreme northern end of the Western Front, now boosts the biggest marina in northern Europe. In the shadow of the locks, untouched by today’s hustle and bustle of the many gastronomic bistros lining the fisherman’s wharf, Café de l’Yser is now a restaurant and small, charming, county town hotel. Also Chez Lobbestal is still there as a typical local tavern.

  We have a practical message for those readers that want to visit the Spanish Lock in Nieuport today: do not trip over one of Great War’s little mysteries. Indeed on the lock platform adjacent the lock chamber are several cast iron rings treacherously sticking out of the pavement! Who placed them there and why they are still there after such a long time is still unknown. For convenience sake we call them ‘Thys’ Rings’ since their purpose is quite obvious.

  When on that historic night of October 26 to 27, 1914 the flood doors prematurely closed under the pressure of the rising tide it was clear that in the future such an occurrence was to be prevented at all cost. As a matter of fact up until the Second World War this inconspicuous lock still figured prominently in the military defense plans against another invasion (from the east).

  Re-installing the typical door hooks (see picture p.131) was risky: any malicious passer-by with some tools would then be able to open the doors and cause a disaster. Keeping the doors open manually with heavy cables – as had been done that night – would still be the simplest option. But that did indeed require unbridled, raw manpower. A more “elegant” solution to bring the water pressure under control was found with the installation of two heavy, cast iron rings alongside each flood door. In case of another inundation attempt in the future a cable could then be strung from the door, through the rings (see the arrows). Friction on the rings would lower the tractive force so one sapper would be able to operate the flood doors. Author’s photo archive.

  Chapter XVII

  Questions That Still Fascinate

  Up to now we have told the story of the floods in the Belgian Sector of the Western Front at the beginning of the First World War. All the witnesses to this historic epic that survived the war have meanwhile set off to join the thousands of their comrades that by 1918 had found their grave in that waterlogged region of Europe. To the researcher this brings serenity to the investigation but also an enormous lack of personal contact with the main actors. All that is left are barely noticeable traces on the old battlefield and thousands of yellowing documents.

  This predicament, as we have seen, sometimes leaves us with unanswered questions; uncertainties that linger in the historical haze. Some details have been absorbed b
y time and certain controversies will perhaps never be explained.

  Luckily the story does not end there. October 1914 was in Belgian history an unprecedented period. The population at large was fleeing from a brutal invader, the politicians were busying themselves to go into exile and a demoralized, conscript army under direct orders of its monarch was trying to find its way along the land, without any preconceived and democratically accepted strategy. Unsettling times indeed.

  Four years later, in the flush of victory, a series of fundamental questions of this early period were left unanswered. ‘Why bother,’ our forefathers must have thought, ‘in the end we did win, didn’t we?’ Having been fenced off from their homesteads our boys – at least the ones who had survived this ordeal – could finally return home to their loved ones. What could be more important?

  In the following pages we will try to untangle a few of those lingering questions that are so important to historians. A definite answer though will perhaps never be given.

  Appendix I

  The Elusive Keeper of the Locks

  The (non) involvement of lockmaster Dingens and the engineers of the Roads & Bridges Department in the October 1914 floods has been a controversy for several decades.

  After the war the lockmaster accused the military of forcing him and his staff to leave while Lucien François claimed they had fled after Le Clément de Saint-Marcq and Thys had visited the lock complex. Also according to Dingens he had left all the equipment to manoeuvre the locks in place. In a post-war affidavit François nevertheless maintained: ‘… in spite of us insisting [they left] without handing over the tools to manœuvre the lock gates.’

  As the reader will have understood the situation around the locks in October 1914 was a nasty and confusing mess. After the war each party tried to justify its own ‘patriotic’ behaviour. As often happens we suspect that the truth lies somewhere in the middle. Unquestionably the locks men did not flee at the first crack of the gun but they were not exactly driven off by the guard detachment either. The ever-increasing pressures of the approaching hostilities simply forced Dingens to lay down his responsibilities.

  In 1920, in a lengthy interview published in two Belgian newspapers Gerard Dingens told his version of the events of October 1914. Although a valuable document, several points in the story, as told by both journalists, do not fit in.

  A. Hans, in his article in the Flemish Het Laatste Nieuws newspaper of 18 June 1920 hinted that Dingens, after the investigation by the British officers on 10 October, then explained to them the idea of inundating the area between the Yser and the railway Dixmude-Nieuport. As such Dingens claimed to be the creator of the ultimately ‘miraculous’ flood. Strangely enough, the other journalist, G. Paquot in the French-language, sister newspaper La Dernière Heure of 5 June 1920, did not allude to this suggestion. Anyway, if one has a closer look at Dingens’ allegations one has to come to a different conclusion:

  At the time of the meeting with the British officers on 10 October, the area between the Yser and the railway did not have any tactical value whatsoever to the British in their defence of Ostend. It was 16km away from Ostend and the area Dingens would have suggested was sitting perpendicular to the coastline, a situation that would not even contribute to the defence of Nieuport, let alone Ostend. Just by the nature of his position Dingens must have known this.

  Unfortunately, after all these years, no report on the matter has yet surfaced, written by those British officers that talked with Dingens on that day. For instance, relying on the intentions of the British – that is isolating Ostend from the mainland – we suspect that they had similar conversations with other lockkeepers in the Ostend region, like at the Slijkens Locks just east of the city and perhaps even in Zeebrugge. Their statements could put things in a different perspective.

  Probably a post-war portrait of lockmaster Gerard Dingens. A personality that indeed radiated authority and, in normal circumstances anyway, must have commanded respect.

  Historical prints collection Callenaere-Dehouck.

  As the British officers must have felt, there were a couple of discrepancies in the lock-master’s explanations. Dingens did stress the fact that it would take a long time to inundate the polder towards Ostend because the Nieuwbedelf Gates openings were too few and too small. But apparently he never mentioned to them that the same polder could simultaneously be flooded by using the Caemerlynck Sluices on the opposite end of that polder, namely in Ostend itself.

  It was also irrelevant for him to mention that the roads would still surface: this was exactly what the British wanted! This procedure would give them control of the roads and preclude use of the adjoining land. In any case, his statements did not exactly convince the officers as we read about their doubts in the ensuing days.

  The next day, 11 October, when the Francophone Belgian lieutenant and sergeant arrived on the scene another problem arises. One can ask the question why, at that moment, no higher ranking public servant from the lockkeeper’s own administration of Roads & Bridges, showed up or, perhaps more logical, why did Dingens himself not try to contact one of his superiors to complain about the behaviour of the troopers? Although in the next few days the leading engineers of the department would leave the coastal region, on 11th they were all still supposed to be on duty, some even in Nieuport itself. We can only suspect that Dingens’ own pride prevented him from calling superiors to his assistance. According to G. Paquot, when Captain Commandant Nuyten visited the lockmaster on 13 October, apparently Dingens reiterated ‘his idea’ on inundating between the Yser and the railway embankment.

  After the initial discussion, according to Dingens, he went on to say that in fact only one particular polder would be easy to inundate: the area to the west of the Yser River, between this river and the railway embankment Dixmude-Nieuport. One would only have to carefully obstruct the various culverts under the railway. Special care would have to be taken though, in blocking the nine-metres wide, so-called Koolhof Vaart viaduct on the southern edge of Nieuport. Dingens underlined his explanation by showing the various stages on the ordnance map. He explained that this flood could be set rapidly by using seawater although, he declared, this would affect the fertile clay soil.

  For two reasons this mere ‘suggestion’ by the lockmaster – if he ever made it – was of no interest to Nuyten: first of all this polder was well away from Ostend … and then we refer back to the discussion with the British earlier on, and secondly, his own General Staff had chosen this region to assemble the army!

  On this second point, there are two more reasons why Dingens’ version of the meeting is unreliable at certain points:

  1.

  The initial intent of High Command, as discussed in Eecloo on 9 October, was only to use the Furnes-Ambacht region simply as a staging area to regroup. The Yser had been mentioned as a physical marker on the ground to act as the perimeter of this ‘safe haven’, of which only its exits would have to be guarded. The Anglo-French forces under General Rawlinson were understood to make the front east of the river and as such shelter the Belgians from direct German attack.

  2.

  Even if, at that time, the Belgians had the intention to really defend the Yser line, the polder indicated by Dingens was located west, or behind the river, the intended line of defence, not in front of it.

  Besides, how would Dingens have known about a decision taken at the highest level, behind closed doors, only a few days before? With the tactical situation evolving so rapidly and the enemy clearly having the initiative nobody could predict how the conflict was going to develop, either in the long or the short term.

  So, when Dingens in the 1920 interviews mentioned ‘his’ idea to G. Paquot and/or A. Hans it was more of a well-constructed afterthought on his part, expressed in an attempt to defend his behaviour in October 1914. After all, his personal motives might have been noble – a fact that nobody in the region at the time seems to have appreciated – his actions could not be excused in the post-war
era of veneration for a victorious King and Army. Unfortunately it looks as if both journalists exploited the lockmaster’s skewed views to serve a more political objective.

  In the interview Dingens also complained about Captain Commandant Nuyten not having given him his name nor informing him about which army unit to contact if the need arose. This was of course an essential part of his story.

  For the information Nuyten was most concerned about, that is the physical condition of the roads and bridges, there was no need to reveal his identity. And about the army unit to contact, i.e. the service that was dedicated to floods as such, it did not exist yet.

  In a detailed retort by then Major Fernand Umé, published on 26 June 1920, the major regretted that Dingens had not offered his services to the engineers, even at a later date.

  According to G. Paquot, the lockmaster, then living in Coxyde, had indeed offered his collaboration, notably through Engineer Captain Vantrooyen and his superior, Engineer Major E. Lefêvre. The latter had apparently phoned from Wulpen to General Headquarters on 3 or 4 November. But Captain Commandant Jamotte had indicated that they did not need the assistance of Dingens since High Command was satisfied with the means at its disposal.

  Throughout the war the discreet lockmaster Victor Kemp in Furnes acted as a valuable expert on the waterways of the Furnes-Ambacht region. The military engineers could always count on his unbiased advice. After the war his contribution to the war effort has always been overshadowed by the actions of Geeraert and Cogge.