Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Poem ~ Peace to War - Thursday, 31 December 1914


August, September, October of 1914,
Saw life in Brussels slowly change,
From early days of sudden invasion -
By Germany nation – the capital
Of Belgium, under occupying system -
Life for British occupants remained
Relatively unchanged - the enemy
Being occupied with other matters.

Matters changed when November came.
Five hundred Special secret police
From Berlin drafted into Brussels -
Rumours had been running since days
Of August, September and October -
That all British were to be arrested.
The fear spreading in the city prompted,
People to the American Consulate.

The British wanted true information
Of the situation - informed such rumours
Were false and untrue - to be assured,
They were handed cover passports -
For their originals - and told warnings
Would be made - if changes occurred,
Then alarms were to be raised.

On day of 14 November at his office,
The writer was informed that British
Were suddenly being arrested.
He warned his wife but decided,
It would be impossible to return home -
Instead he considered how to escape.
With Civic Guards refusal to comply,
Not to make arms against Germans,
They too had their intentions to flee.

The border of Belgium was eighty
Miles and with obvious English looks -
At 6 foot 2 - to walk was out of question.
Added was fact of snowfall and weather
Being poor – all roads were guarded
And all passports had been stopped -
And no trains were allowed to move.

His decision was made to gain false
Identity  - a passport - in service for
Provisioning the town. For seven days
The Englishman went into hiding,
At a friend’s house, growing a beard.
In waiting the passport was gained,
And a man with pony and trap secured.

His journey began 20 November, 3 p.m.
A Friday, during heavy fall of snow.
In company of the cart man - when
Approaching guard post and towns,
The English refugee huddled small
In the cart – to escape Brussels
Itself, they decided the safest way,
Would be the most dangerous -
So the cart man conveyed him,
Along by the Zeppelin shed - past
The Barracks of unaware Guards.

By 7 p.m. the Journey to Louvain
Was done  - with a curfew of 8 p.m.
Expectations of 80,000 soldiers
Somewhere on that night's roads -
Provoking fear of the open road.
What houses still stood, showed
No outward signs of occupation.

As they progressed a presence
Appeared bright lights of a heavy
Automobile - rumbled by with four
Trailer ambulance cars  -followed
By two more darkened ambulances -
In fixed determination they headed
In a forwards direction for the front.

The man and his guide spent a night
In broken town of Louvain - sheltering
In ruins of a café, by the Hotel de Ville.
By light, the debris and waste,
Of what had been a town, emerged.
They restarted their journey in the cold -
Still guards took passing notice, vaguely
Giving interest, at crossings of rail lines.

Moving onto the road to Aerschot,
Revealed devastations of battles -
All houses nearly crushed and fields
About had ad hoc graves - as ditches
At road sides, gave impromptu graves -
Sometimes a helmet or tainted Kepi,
Indicated a lifeless enemy or friend -
Crosses had been given to civilians;
With pencil marks scribing lost lives.

Across forty miles was countryside,
Given over to the dead – then the living,
The destitute figures with weary feet -
From Ghent and Yser districts, moving
As they had for weeks, without money
Home and starving - their expressions
Were stoic - they would return - once
The enemy was pushed away.

Aerschot  - a place of Martyrs - reached.
The site of Germanic ‘Kultur’ - a murdered
Civil population could hardly be described.
Beyond Aerschot relief followed, as woods
Of pine were passed - to place of Oatmalle
Where a bed of sorts was gained  -
In damp and cold no sleep was made,
Until dawn of a bright bitter day marked
By an easterly wind, across a flat country.

With twelve mile to the frontier, pony
And cart were stabled - the Englishman
Was led across a frozen path - by way
Of fortunate, as guards remained close
To shelters - At sight of a Dutch flag
A grateful Englishman shook hands,
Solidly with the Belgium cart man -
United by what they saw on their way.

The plan remained that the driver's
Return to Brussels, by another route,
To then bring the Englishman’s wife.
A weary traveller stepped away,
To the Dutch post to gain his arrest.

Baarle-Nassan - nightfall and twelve
Miles had been covered – the area,
Being a densely frozen morass of trees
Of pine as the Englishman came to
Baarle-Nassan – ragged and hungry.

Everywhere, finding barn or room,
Housed soldiers and refugees,
Living in rail trucks to cook in open
Air – four more exhausting hours,
And then to Tilburg, he gained rest.

Still in Brussels, the wife had tried
To gain a passport - without success,
Over four days between Hotel de Ville
And Kommandantur – no longer
Were they issued to man or woman -
Arriving 12 hours too late, the Berlin
Police came to arrest her husband.
Becoming fearful for her own safety,
The wife stayed with a friend.

After four days on 28 November,
Devoid of passport  - she disguised
Herself as a peasant - by similar
Sights witnessed by her husband,
Her route of travel took her by line
Of fight on Antwerp - seeing debris
That had been Eppeghem, Malines,
Waselhem, Duffel Lierr -
And the commune of Santhoven.

Journeying in a trap pulled by an old
German Cavalry horse - gained for £1
In August at Louvain – The driver
Found all horse and carts were about
To be requisitioned, so could not travel
Any further  - with his charges needs,
He secured an escort - a man with
Dutch passport - who would taker her
To Baarle-Nassau, in his company.

By following day, the frontier was only
One and half miles - they boarded
The steam tram - with guards passed,
They began their long walk at 9 am.
With Baarle-Nassau not far away,
The Dutchman halted on the open
Moor - to say if he was to gain tram
To Santhoven, he could go no more.

The wife was left there and then,
When fortune came in a refugee,
Who took up her bag and escorted
Her to Baarle-Nassau for 4 p.m. -
By 5 p.m. husband and wife united.

At Tilburg they rested for some days,
Then onto Flushing for fruitless days,
To number five, hoping for the mail boat -
Which were booked days in advance -
Next they applied to the refugee committee,
Where a Dr Farrar secured their board -
After a comfortless night aboard the boat,
They sailed at 7 a.m. then by 5 p.m.
Landing at Tilbury Port - county of Essex -
With only shillings in their pockets they
Stepped out freely, into the London air.

This English couple had taken a journey
Of five months - their lives, as all nations,
Changed by course of European leaders -
Forced from security to hiding as refugees,
Came forces of invasion of one nation,
Taking people from peace to war in 1914.

by Jamie Mann.

Anon.,1914. Englishman’s Escape from Brussels – Wife’s Perilous Journey. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 31 Dec. p.7. Col.6. Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11316461/Daily-Telegraph-December-31-1914.html [Accessed: 31 December 2014].



#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #ww1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered #WW1Brussels

Poem ~ Assumed Enemy Spy - Thursday, 31 December 1914


In the need of guiding boats,
Going southerly from the Tyne -
Pilots  guided such vessels
To disembark at Sunderland -
As stated by regulations.

One South Shield Pilot -
Name of Ralph Phillips -
Took charge of a steamer
From Norway - it was dusk
As the pilot cutter,
Ended its days work -
The pilot arrived at the Wear.

Phillips had the option
To stay with the voyage,
Or take a steamer's boat
To row ashore - Agreeable
To the latter the Captain
Had the rowing boat lowered.

Ralph Phillips started to row,
As the coast dipped darker,
With slow shadows of night –
He drifted in the calmness
Of a lone voyage, when shots
Hissed about - hitting the water -
By reaction he stopped rowing,
Dropping to the boat's bottom.

A military presence on the beach,
Had observed the man, to assume
He was an enemy agent - setting
Out to land ashore - knowing
Of the dangers of being shot,
He called out - holding up hands,
Declaring himself a friend not foe.

Being heard, the shots ceased.
When on reaching the shore,
The pilot was quickly surrounded
By guards manning the beach -
He was questioned and answers
Examined - before allowed home
To Sunderland – with only eight
Shots fired, the undamaged boat,
Would be returned to the steamer
Upon its next arrival on the Tyne.

by Jamie Mann.

Anon.,1914. Pilot’s Adventure - Fired on From Shore – Guard that Took no Chances. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 31 Dec. p.6. Col.6. Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11316461/Daily-Telegraph-December-31-1914.html [Accessed: 31 December 2014].



#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #ww1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered