In Flanders Fields And Other Poems [19]
-- the four of us have been very intimate
and had agreed perfectly -- and friendships under these circumstances
are apt to be the real thing. I am sorry to leave them in such a hot corner,
but cannot choose and must obey orders. It is a great relief from strain,
I must admit, to be out, but I could wish that they all were.
==
This phase of the war lasted two months precisely, and to John McCrae
it must have seemed a lifetime since he went into this memorable action.
The events preceding the second battle of Ypres received scant mention
in his letters; but one remains, which brings into relief
one of the many moves of that tumultuous time.
==
April 1st, 1915.
We moved out in the late afternoon, getting on the road a little after dark.
Such a move is not unattended by danger, for to bring horses and limbers
down the roads in the shell zone in daylight renders them liable
to observation, aerial or otherwise. More than that, the roads are now
beginning to be dusty, and at all times there is the noise which carries far.
The roads are nearly all registered in their battery books,
so if they suspect a move, it is the natural thing to loose off a few rounds.
However, our anxiety was not borne out, and we got out of the danger zone
by 8.30 -- a not too long march in the dark, and then for
the last of the march a glorious full moon. The houses everywhere
are as dark as possible, and on the roads noises but no lights.
One goes on by the long rows of trees that are so numerous in this country,
on cobblestones and country roads, watching one's horses' ears wagging,
and seeing not much else. Our maps are well studied before we start,
and this time we are not far out of familiar territory.
We got to our new billet about 10 -- quite a good farmhouse;
and almost at once one feels the relief of the strain of being
in the shell zone. I cannot say I had noticed it when there;
but one is distinctly relieved when out of it.
==
Such, then, was the life in Flanders fields in which the verse was born.
This is no mere surmise. There is a letter from Major-General
E. W. B. Morrison, C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O., who commanded the Brigade
at the time, which is quite explicit. "This poem," General Morrison writes,
"was literally born of fire and blood during the hottest phase
of the second battle of Ypres. My headquarters were in a trench
on the top of the bank of the Ypres Canal, and John had his dressing station
in a hole dug in the foot of the bank. During periods in the battle
men who were shot actually rolled down the bank into his dressing station.
Along from us a few hundred yards was the headquarters of a regiment,
and many times during the sixteen days of battle, he and I watched them
burying their dead whenever there was a lull. Thus the crosses, row on row,
grew into a good-sized cemetery. Just as he describes, we often heard
in the mornings the larks singing high in the air, between the crash
of the shell and the reports of the guns in the battery just beside us.
I have a letter from him in which he mentions having written the poem
to pass away the time between the arrival of batches of wounded,
and partly as an experiment with several varieties of poetic metre. I have
a sketch of the scene, taken at the time, including his dressing station;
and during our operations at Passchendaele last November,
I found time to make a sketch of the scene of the crosses, row on row,
from which he derived his inspiration."
The last letter from the Front is dated June 1st, 1915. Upon that day
he was posted to No. 3 General Hospital at Boulogne, and placed in charge
of medicine with the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel as of date 17th April, 1915.
Here he remained until the day of his death on January 28th, 1918.
III
The Brand of War
There are men who pass through such scenes unmoved. If they have eyes,
they do not see; and ears, they do not hear. But John McCrae
was profoundly moved, and bore in his body until the end
and had agreed perfectly -- and friendships under these circumstances
are apt to be the real thing. I am sorry to leave them in such a hot corner,
but cannot choose and must obey orders. It is a great relief from strain,
I must admit, to be out, but I could wish that they all were.
==
This phase of the war lasted two months precisely, and to John McCrae
it must have seemed a lifetime since he went into this memorable action.
The events preceding the second battle of Ypres received scant mention
in his letters; but one remains, which brings into relief
one of the many moves of that tumultuous time.
==
April 1st, 1915.
We moved out in the late afternoon, getting on the road a little after dark.
Such a move is not unattended by danger, for to bring horses and limbers
down the roads in the shell zone in daylight renders them liable
to observation, aerial or otherwise. More than that, the roads are now
beginning to be dusty, and at all times there is the noise which carries far.
The roads are nearly all registered in their battery books,
so if they suspect a move, it is the natural thing to loose off a few rounds.
However, our anxiety was not borne out, and we got out of the danger zone
by 8.30 -- a not too long march in the dark, and then for
the last of the march a glorious full moon. The houses everywhere
are as dark as possible, and on the roads noises but no lights.
One goes on by the long rows of trees that are so numerous in this country,
on cobblestones and country roads, watching one's horses' ears wagging,
and seeing not much else. Our maps are well studied before we start,
and this time we are not far out of familiar territory.
We got to our new billet about 10 -- quite a good farmhouse;
and almost at once one feels the relief of the strain of being
in the shell zone. I cannot say I had noticed it when there;
but one is distinctly relieved when out of it.
==
Such, then, was the life in Flanders fields in which the verse was born.
This is no mere surmise. There is a letter from Major-General
E. W. B. Morrison, C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O., who commanded the Brigade
at the time, which is quite explicit. "This poem," General Morrison writes,
"was literally born of fire and blood during the hottest phase
of the second battle of Ypres. My headquarters were in a trench
on the top of the bank of the Ypres Canal, and John had his dressing station
in a hole dug in the foot of the bank. During periods in the battle
men who were shot actually rolled down the bank into his dressing station.
Along from us a few hundred yards was the headquarters of a regiment,
and many times during the sixteen days of battle, he and I watched them
burying their dead whenever there was a lull. Thus the crosses, row on row,
grew into a good-sized cemetery. Just as he describes, we often heard
in the mornings the larks singing high in the air, between the crash
of the shell and the reports of the guns in the battery just beside us.
I have a letter from him in which he mentions having written the poem
to pass away the time between the arrival of batches of wounded,
and partly as an experiment with several varieties of poetic metre. I have
a sketch of the scene, taken at the time, including his dressing station;
and during our operations at Passchendaele last November,
I found time to make a sketch of the scene of the crosses, row on row,
from which he derived his inspiration."
The last letter from the Front is dated June 1st, 1915. Upon that day
he was posted to No. 3 General Hospital at Boulogne, and placed in charge
of medicine with the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel as of date 17th April, 1915.
Here he remained until the day of his death on January 28th, 1918.
III
The Brand of War
There are men who pass through such scenes unmoved. If they have eyes,
they do not see; and ears, they do not hear. But John McCrae
was profoundly moved, and bore in his body until the end