My Story of Remembrance

Author

John Drysdale
November 11, 2024 • Estimated Reading Time: 7 minutes

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I hadn’t slept all night.

The racket started about 2 o’clock this morning and didnt finish till 5.

High pitch screaming of shells flying over us.

Then the thunderous sounds as they landed, thank God, well beyond our lines.

The stench of smoke, gas, blown over from Kemmel Hill , a mile away, defended by the French.

Trying to keep a brave face on it, us young lads in this Royal Scots Battalion.

Many of us had just arrived at the front here in Flanders.

The shells spared us. After daybreak, there was worse to come at this farm, where we were stationed, 2 miles from Ypres.

The crack of rifle fire rang out as we dived into our trenches.

A runner told us that our lines had been breached. We were on our own.

And now, the massive German machine gun bullets thudded into the sandbags around us. But not all of them did and comrades cried out in pain.

Then dozens of German soldiers came up behind us, rifles pointing.

We stepped out of our trenches, hands up, convinced our number was up.

The German officer barked:

“ Run Tommy Run”.

None of us did.

Kemmel Hill, Flanders after the German bombardment on 25 April, 1918

A teenager’s experience of war

This is how a 19 year old John Drysdale, my grandfather, could have described his experience of being captured at the Battle of Kemmel on 25 April, 1918.

Kemmel Hill, close to Ypres, stands 500ft above sea level and towers over the surrounding flat fields of Flanders.

It was a highly prized strategic position to hold there in World War 1.

As America entered the war, the Germans made a futile attempt at a pre-emptive strike. Kemmel was part of that. Despite throwing elite alpine troops into the battle they only managed to hold the position for a few weeks.

And the cost in human lives was devastating.

On the morning of 25th April, 1918, 5294 French soldiers lost their lives defending Kemmel Hill.

They are laid to rest in this Ossuary at the bottom of the hill. Only 57 were identifiable.

After the battle, 88 of 647 men remained with my grandfather’s battalion. The rest captured or lost.

He was fortunate to survive but had to endure captivity until the end of the war.

French Ossuary at Kemmel

Kemmel Hill Today

Woods at the top of Kemmel Hill Spring 2024

This Spring I visited Flanders to find the place where my grandfather was captured.

When I was young, he had talked with me briefly about being a prisoner of war. Even then I could tell that these were painful memories for him.

He never talked about the battle.

I only learned recently that he was captured at Kemmel, as a result of the digitisation of POW records by the Red Cross, and that he was held prisoner in Dortmund, Germany.

Through online research and referencing German military maps of the time, I pinpointed the place of his capture as “Lagache Farm”. 

I was able to construct a narrative of what actually happened that day, including reading the handwritten, daily reports of my grandfather’s senior officer. I also found those online in the National Archives.

Yet, when I walked through that peaceful, wooded hilltop, busy with runners and cyclists, it was difficult to imagine the horrors of war that had taken place, probably in the very places I walked, just over 100 years ago!

When I saw the angel of Kemmel

Approaching Kemmel Hill from Ypres

As I drove towards Kemmel Hill from Ypres, I followed a narrow lane in the midst of a commonplace rural scene. Flat fields. Neat ditches and lots of cyclists.

On entering the wooded area, the Ossuary, with flags and memorials, is on the right.

As I raised my eyes to look up the very steep, cobbled path to the summit a “magnificent angel” appeared gazing down through the mist towards the resting place of 5294 souls.

The “Angel” of Kemmel

In 1932, France erected a memorial here to their soldiers who died in the battle.

It’s a sculpture of a Roman Goddess that is known as “ The Angel of Kemmel”

I felt deeply moved, on that damp, misty May morning, looking up at the Angel from where the fallen lay.

It conveyed to me the sense of loss beyond reading an historical account.

Realising my teenage grandfather had been within a mile of this horror, facing his own peril, made me appreciate for the first time what he had experienced.

Perhaps it was too painful or disturbing for him to recall or just impossible to make meaning of.

Looking forward not back

At this time of year, we remember the sacrifices of those fallen in conflict.

When visiting Flanders, I was struck by the courage of those that served and the horrors they experienced.

In a cemetery there, I found a plaque that commemorated the 100 years anniversary of the start of the Great War.

On it, inscribed in German, French, Flemish and English, are these words:

IT IS THE TIME NOT TO LOOK BACK

IN ANGER BUT TO LOOK

FORWARD WITH HOPE

Perhaps, the meaning we can make of it.

 

Reflections

This was a very personal journey to honour my grandfather’s experience.

I had never really understood what my grandfather went through.

Only by going there to the scene of the battle, did I get a real sense of what it would have been like for a 19 year old amidst all that horror.

Despite spending hours with him as a young boy, hearing his stories, I realised that we had only ever scratched the surface.

It made me wonder how often we only ever scratch the surface with family, friends and colleagues.

How much do we appreciate others’ personal experiences that have shaped how they show up today? And if we were able to get to know them better in this way, how could that help us support them when they need it or encourage them to build on the qualities that they have developed as a result of their experiences?

What about you?

At times, are you only scratching the surface with family, friends and colleagues ?

What difference could it make if you were able to get beneath the surface more ?

I hope you found this edition of my newsletter useful. If you have colleagues or associates who you think would also find it useful, please forward it to them.

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‘Til next time.

John