One day in Ypres

It was Wednesday morning. As I looked around I could see tired faces and coffee cups everywhere. We met in the Auditorium at 8:30, and after a short introduction to our day`s program, we started working. By 11.30 almost all the groups finished their projects so after lunch we went to the park next to the school aswe spent every lunch breakthere.

The afternoon program was to be a trip to Ypres leaving at 1 p.m.It took 40-50 minutes to arrive at our first stop:Diksmuide, the name means `The Trench of Death`.A guide showed us the trenches which wereconstantly used during the 1st WW.

In 1914 the German troops broke into Belgian territories, so Belgium became the enemy of the German Empire and the ally of France and the UK. With a brilliant tactical move, the Belgians flooded the area between their forces and the Germans in order to stop the German troops` advance. We walked along the 500 m long trench and our guide told us true stories about the soldiers who were fighting there day after day and night after night during the whole WW 1. After experiencing the trenches, we went to a monument which was built nearby to commemorate the Belgian soldiers. It is a huge tower with an exhibitioninside.

This exhibition is presented in a really unusual way. First you must watch a silent filmabout life in the trenches. You don’t need words, the pictures themselves express the horrors of the trenches better. Then you go up to the top of the tower using a lift. We were lucky, we could see an amazing view all around us as the weather was wonderful so we even saw the ocean at the distance. Then as you are walking down, the exhibition unfolds before your eyes. Maps, photos, uniforms, weapons, even sounds of these weapons make the exhibition unforgettable.

Our next stop was Ypres, a small town which was totally bombed down during the war and later rebuilt during the ‘30s. A local man was our guide, he showed us the Cathedral of Ypres, the main square with the famous Cloth Hall and one of the British war cemeteries. He told us that a lot of soldiers lost their dog-tags so they were buried unnamed. That’s the reason why we could read on many graves the following epitaph: “A soldier of the Great War known to God”.

Our last stop was another monument, The Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing with the names of 54,000 soldiers who have no known grave. Four trumpeters played the `Last Post` the signal for the soldiers to finish their duty at the end of the day. It has been played every dayat 8 p.m. since 1928, except during the 2^nd WW when Belgium was occupied by Germany. We watched the ceremony and we had free time. We found a lovely restaurant and had dinner-time there havinga wonderful time together.

We arrived back to Waregem around 22:30 and we finished the night as usual, in a pub. It was an unforgettable and in many ways moving day. As we tried to imagine the lives of the soldiers and their families, our feelings became stronger and stronger and we thought we could understand the situation and its consequences…. And then …

Ypres Memories

I awoke to the usual sound of artillery shells raining from the sky. The sound of explosions all around would even wake the dead from their sleep. I felt the usual surge of adrenaline in my veins. I had to get out of the Cloth Hall where I’d spent the night. I looked around and saw debris flying everywhere as a shell hit the wall just a couple meters away from me. The whole foundation shook but the new opening in the building saved me from having to find my way out of the maze-like construction. This is when I realized that I was alone. Yesterday when I’d arrived here there were tired soldiers everywhere. I didn’t pay much attention to the layout of the building because the German soldiers decided to send a welcoming party for my arrival. By nightfall we were able to push them back and decided to spend the night in the Cloth Hall. So now I took the opportunity and jumped through the opening that was still surrounded by smoke and debris. I felt the warmth of the explosion still lingering in the air. It was the middle of October so the trees that remained intact had shed their leaves. The war scene became a palette of beautiful colors as the rising sun shone its light upon them. I almost got lost in the sight if not for another explosion to the right of me. I felt the force of it and stumbled to the left. My heart was in my throat and it felt like it would rip out of its place. I started running west towards the outpost from where I came yesterday. Anywhere I looked all I could see were ruins of the buildings that once made up the town Ypres. Some roads were blocked off so I had to either climb the ruins or find another route. As I was running the explosions became more frequent. I climbed a pile of rubble and could see our camp in the distance. All I could think of was surviving today and by tomorrow I would be home with my wife who is pregnant with my son. I’m going to be a father.

I have woken again, this time not to explosions but to a beautiful day. Strangely I don’t remember falling asleep. As I look around I see strange buildings I’ve never seen before. The only familiar building is the Cloth Hall in the distance. I start making my way towards it. On my right there is a cemetery with countless headstones. The stones are in perfect rows and they seem to be graves of soldiers. Most of them say the same thing: “A soldier of the Great War known unto God.” When I reach the town I can see some cars parked here and there, but they are so different from the cars I’ve seen. I check every corner carefully before advancing but there are no signs of German soldiers. Is the war over I wonder. Where is everybody? Did we win? Did the Germans win? I arrive at the Cloth Hall hoping to find answers there. It’s in much better shape than before. I search for the hole I climbed through but it is nowhere to be found. Maybe it was on the other side. I reach the other side and a huge crowd of people in the distance catch my attention. I immediately abandon the search for the hole and set off towards them. I still try to remain behind cover at all times. They don’t seem German nor do they seem like any soldier I’ve seen so far. Their clothes are strange and there are children and women. They cannot be soldiers. Realizing this I start running towards them shouting and waving my hands. Nothing, nobody seems to react. There must be something really interesting under that arch. Then as I get closer and closer a familiar melody reaches my ears. It’s the Last Post. This heavenly tune signaled the end of the day. So we did manage to drive the Germans back after all. I can go home to my wife but first I want to find out what exactly is going on. I reach the arch just as the last note is played. I see four buglers who seem to be decorated soldiers. The crowd starts to stir and everyone heads out to different directions. I spot a family not far from me and approach them hoping they could give me some answers. I am about to touch the woman’s shoulders when something I hear stops me dead in my tracks. “And this name here is the most important to our family. Always remember your grandfather who died fighting for our country.” I hear her say these words to her son and daughter as she points to the wall of this strange structure. I follow her hand with my gaze and there at the tip of her finger lies a name written in the marble along with thousands of others. But this name is different. I know it well. It is my own…

Réka Harai and András Fébó

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