VALENTIN’S GREAT WAR (1914-1919) Jacques Dewaele & Jean-Marc Dewaele Prologue On August 4th 1914 the Germans invaded Belgium. Two months later, they were within range of Ostend. While the ports and the Channel remained open, a large part of the population attempted to flee. The mail-boats, trawlers and sloops departed overloaded from Ostend, Nieuwpoort and Calais heading towards Dover, Folkestone and Vlissingen. Refugees who sailed to Great Britain were not able to return for four years. Some who fled to the Netherlands were able to return sooner. People embarked massively until the day before the Germans entered Ostend on October 16th 1914. About 10,000 inhabitants remained in Ostend. They faced difficult times. The town was bombarded from the front at Nieuwpoort and from the sea. The Germans turned the harbour at Ostend, and later at Zeebrugge, into U-boat bases. Each time a U-boat docked, Ostend was targeted that night by the British Navy, resulting in 798 casualties (283 dead and 515 wounded) and 717 homes destroyed. Despite the British attacks, the U-boats waged a successful war sinking 2,554 ships for the loss of 80 U-boats. Ostend soon became the headquarters of the German Army and Navy as well as a centre for hospitals and soldiers on leave. The Belgian King Albert had halted the retreat of the Belgian Army behind the River Yzer and opened the lock gates, thereby flooding the lowlands and slowing and even stopping the German advance. French and British troops strengthened his front. A German breakthrough would have opened the way to Dunkerque, Boulogne and Calais, effectively cutting off communication between Britain and the continent. Juliette Dewaele, born Juliette Haverland, ran a drapery shop in Ostend with the help of five salesgirls. The shop was called ‘In het Anker’, and was located on the corner of Kaaistraat and Wittenonnenstraat, on the Groentenmarkt. Juliette’s husband Camille had died in 1902 leaving her with two young children, Valentin and Alice. In October 1914 she too faced the choice: stay in her hometown or cross the Channel to England. Terrible things were happening in occupied Belgium, and Ostend would almost certainly become a military and fleet base. To keep them safe Juliette sent her two children, respectively 19 and 15, to England into the care of her sister, Eudoxie. Eudoxie and her husband Emile Libert had chosen to close their pastry-shop in Kapellestraat in Ostend and travel to England with their five children. After much persuasion from her son Valentin who pointed out that life was more valuable than material goods and that Ostend would not escape the bombardments, Juliette decided to leave Ostend a few months later and put the shop into the care the head saleswoman Maria Vercamer, without giving her own family power of attorney over her business. With the help of the Belgian refugee committee, Valentin and the Libert family found a home in the coastal village of Deganwy near Llandudno in North Wales. Alice enrolled in Wycombe Abbey Boarding School near London. Convinced that the war would be over soon and with the intention of staying as close as possible to her hometown of Ostend, Juliette initially found shelter in London with the Phibbes family. In early 1915, Juliette travelled North to join her sister and brother-in-law in Deganwy. Emile Libert returned to Ostend via the Netherlands in 1916 to attend to his home and business. The nineteen-year-old Valentin did not stay long in Deganwy. On April 11th 1915, he volunteered and joined the Belgian Army. He had studied in secondary schools in Ostend and Antwerp. From April 1912 until October 1913 he undertook work placement in Berlin with ‘Schwab und Schwarzschild’ to familiarise himself with commerce, textiles, fashion, shop-window dressing, accountancy, the German language and calligraphy. While in Berlin, Valentin was a member of the ‘Vereinigung Junge Kaufleute von Berlin’ (Society of Young Merchants of Berlin). Valentin in 1913 Valentin’s mother was counting on him to be able to help her as soon as possible with the running of her business ‘In het Anker’. Unfortunately, the war put an end to that. Mother and son tried to bridge the distance, danger and gulf between them by intensive correspondence. They wrote to each other every three days; 500 letters by the end of the war. Most of the letters were written in French, some letters were written in Dutch, others switched between French and Dutch. Valentin’s family consisted of 12 uncles and 15 aunts. Most of them had left their towns and villages in Western Flanders around 1880 and settled in Ostend. They had a hotel, a restaurant, a drapery store, a pastry shop, and a jewellery shop. They sold fish, oysters, newspapers... All of them were ambitious and Ostend was the right place for them. The city was – and is still- named “Queen of the seaside resorts”. Its pretty harbour with its big fishing fleet, its Casino – rebuilt in 1858, 1865, 1878, 1907 and 1953 successively, and its beautiful beach with fine white sand attracted a crowd of national and international tourists. The Royal family stayed in their property near the beach and the King used to walk along the promenade. The promenade in Ostend during German occupation Belgian refugees in Ostend 1914Valentin: Military Volunteer Deganwy, October 20th 1914 Dearest Mother, You will no doubt be surprised to get news from this godforsaken little place in Wales. When I first arrived in London I went to stay with Mr. Gravener for a few days. I had arranged to move in with Aunt Eudoxie and had only been there two days when Uncle Emile showed up. Pity you didn’t come with him. In the meantime I had applied for a job with Debenhams. They took me on but it was not easy; they did not really need anyone. I was to start on Monday and would get 10 shillings per week. Also we had heard from a few sources that refugees could get free lodgings, so Uncle Emile immediately went to find out. By the time I got back my uncle, aunt and the entire Libert family were gone and the flat was empty. The owner knew nothing. He sent me to the neighbours, the Spilliaerts from Kapellestraat. There I was told that uncle had found a free cottage and that I had been partly registered. I could go along on Monday if I wished. The Spilliaerts would go to the same place. I didn’t know what to do. What now? I had just been offered a job, I did not have to pay rent or pay for food, while here we buy everything with the vouchers they give us. After a lot of thought, I decided that I should travel to Uncle Emile after all. I wrote a letter to Debenhams to explain the situation and apologise. Mrs Spilliaert, her daughter and I went to the committee to register our names, and after a six-hour train journey we arrived in Deganwy, North Wales. Our arrival was a triumph: we were greeted with applause at the station and there was a car waiting for us. The English really do treat us fantastically. We now live in a beautiful cottage between the sea and the mountains. I left my money with Mr Knowles in London; I need only write and he will forward it. The people here offered us a ride in a motorboat. And last Saturday in Llandudno there was a patriotic concert. In short, they do everything they can to make us forget that we are refugees. Deganwy also has a beach not far from here which reminds me of the one in Ostend. Mother, only one person is missing here, and that’s you! I’m really afraid that they will bombard Ostend. Why don’t you leave? As fast as possible! Let Alida’s brother live in, and go to the Netherlands. Alice is doing well. I looked her up with her host family. She wants to come to Deganwy but I wrote that she should stay in her boarding school, that we are all bored here. That’s not really true, but it should make her feel better. Time is flying. We do all the housework; today it was the laundry. Carlos and I get up early in the mornings; we polish the shoes, light the fires, clean everything and turn over the beds with aunt. We also help with the washing up. I hope you won’t stay in Ostend much longer! Promise? We are very happy with your letter, and uncle is delighted that everything is O.K. at the house. Dearest Mother, I send you a thousand kisses and another thousand kisses, from my uncle, aunt and their children too who thank you for the care you are giving their house. Valentin Our address: Aubrey Cottage, Gannock Park – Deganwy – North Wales Valentin’s family at home in North Wales The Belgian ministers for War and Internal Affairs were tasked with establishing recruiting offices that would serve as selection bodies where young men could offer their services. If they were found fit for service they were immediately recruited. A commission for appeal would be set up in Le Havre. The Belgian consuls in France and Great Britain were asked to request that local authorities encourage Belgians staying in their areas to present themselves for recruitment. By April 15th 1915 all proposed measures in the legislation were to be met. In London on April 12th 1915, Valentin enlisted in the Belgian Army, draft 1915. In four months he would be 20 years old. Caen, April 15th 1915 Dearest Mother and Sister, This is the first time that I have been able to write with ink. Right now we are in Caen, in Normandy. We have to wait five hours for the train that will take us to Saint-Lô. The trip from London to Southampton went well. We were in a compartment together, all well-born boys. We all stick together. In Southampton they brought us to an old warehouse where the first floor was set up as a canteen and sleeping quarters. We got half a loaf of bread, a can of ‘platta’ (meat paste) for two, and jam. We didn’t know if we were to leave the same day or the day after. In the end it was the next day at half past four. We didn’t sleep a wink, spent the whole night talking, and I smoked a nice cigar. We even went outside for a little while; it wasn’t allowed but the gendarmes aren’t that strict. We lay down on jute sacks filled with straw, one sack for two men, with four blankets per two. We slept fully dressed, our jackets and boots were all we took off. You probably think ‘nasty to lie there like that!’? You get used to it quickly, you do! None of us had ever slept on a straw bag! Before we embarked I washed at a tap outside; it was really funny! The crossing from Southampton to Le Havre took six and a half hours. I was almost seasick, but I lay down on a bench until I felt better. In Le Havre we walked to the station where we had to wait another six hours to get a train. While we were stuck there, a few of us went off and had a steak. The others got a big piece of bread with something on it that didn’t look particularly appetising, and a bottle of cider. We continued on past Rouen and later stopped in a small station; it was about midnight. The waiting room was full of French soldiers. The stationmaster gave us permission to sleep in empty railway wagons in a siding. We rested there for a few hours but I am still not tired, I am having a great time and am very happy. In the barracks of Saint-Lô it will probably be less fun though. I was able to wash in the toilets in Caen and afterwards I went for dinner in the station canteen with our gendarme and several French officers. I noticed the French are very friendly and correct towards us. Their soldiers don’t make much of an impression, they look dirty and grubby, at least the ones that guard the stations and the roads. Around two o’clock we are leaving for Saint-Lô, a small town of 13,000 inhabitants in the centre of Normandy. Military life appeals to me, and no one cares that we travel in filthy trains and sleep on hard planks. I will be happy when we arrive in Saint-Lô. Travelling in France is no joy! There you go mother, I hope that this letter will comfort you. Don’t worry, I like being a soldier and am in good company. I’ll continue writing from Saint-Lô and will ask you to send me several things I need. A thousand kisses, dearest Mother and Alice, and much courage. Valentin Valentin in 1915 Parading, Jumping, Crawling, Running... Saint-Lô, April 20th 1915 Dearest Mother, I attend muster every day but they haven’t called my name yet. I am very happy in the barracks. Of course I’d rather be in Ostend, but well... We have become a good bunch of friends. And I enjoy the rough life in the open air. Unfortunately, we are badly quartered and are sleeping on straw that is starting to stink. On top of that we only have one blanket per man, so that a lot of bronchitis and heavy colds are common. Those military doctors are brutal chaps and real idiots. Luckily we have a good doctor, a volunteer, who does his best to help us, but they’ll give him a post as a military doctor soon and we’ll probably never see him again. So lodgings and medical care here aren’t great. Other than that we fare well enough. Except – I forgot to mention- we still haven’t been given a mess-tin and fork. The first day we couldn’t eat anything we were given, so we bought some eggs. The second day we said ‘it can’t go on like this’ and we asked for empty wine and cider bottles from the canteen swearing that we would bring them straight back (they haven’t got them back yet!). With angelic patience, we fill them with coffee in the morning and soup for lunch, and eat the meat and potatoes with our hands or in empty jam jars. Afterwards, I make sandwiches with jam. I haven’t been out to eat yet but I really want to because the atmosphere in the barracks is becoming very repulsive. I daren’t go into the kitchen. They say it’s such a filthy mess in there that you would lose your appetite for good. Every day streams of volunteers arrive, from every social level. Could you send me ½ a kilo of tobacco: Honey Dew from New Bond Street, and also cigarettes, matches and leggings? Could you ask Uncle Jerôme to send me a case of nice cigars from Holland, straight to my address? You don’t have to pay customs for soldiers. It’s getting dark, so I’ll stop. Thousand kisses, Mother and Alice, Valentin Saint-Lô, April 22nd 1915 Dearest Mother, Thank you for your letter. I am the first in our little gang to get one: they were all jealous of me! You should see how many new recruits end up here every day! Right now at least a thousand of us are squeezed into the barracks. We see all types, and don’t think that only scoundrels and rogues volunteer. There are a few hard cases, I won’t deny that, but there are others too! In any case I’m proud to be a volunteer, I wouldn’t want people to point and say ‘look there’s another one of those cowards’. I had to wait until today to pick up my mess-tin. The food is pretty good; tonight I ate an egg, yesterday steak, but without chips and no sauce, just the usual stock. I also eat a lot of jam sandwiches, in three days I have eaten through my entire kilo! The most expensive thing here is the drink. There is no clean water in the barracks. There are filters, but that water isn’t for the Belgians, say the French (mean isn’t it?). So we buy bottles (15 centimes) or cider (same price), or wine for 75 centimes per litre. Don’t forget it’s warm, we are thirsty after the training, and even when we are resting we are still quite thirsty. We sleep in big, well ventilated rooms, but we are forced to lie too close together. Luckily I sleep near relatively clean people so it doesn’t seem so bad. Every morning there is training from 8:30 until 11:30 or 12 o’clock, we are allowed half an hour (sometimes an hour’s) rest. It’s not too bad but it can be hard. In the afternoon we start again, from 13:15 until 16:30; either training or a military march in which we cover 10 kilometres. I like those marches a lot, we walk through the scenic landscape and are allowed to talk and smoke. The rest of the day we lie on our straw sacks or we just wander about in the barracks. I am adjusting well. Of course it’s nicer to be home but that’s not possible right now, so we don’t think about it. Anyway, the war will be over soon. I am glad you are not sad any more. I bet that if you could see how happy I am here, you would never get sad again! Many kisses for you and Alice, and regards to Uncle Henri and Mr. Phibbs. Valentin Belgian soldier-volunteer 5th company – Caserne Bellevue Saint-Lô – Manche. Saint-Lô, April 25th 1915 Dearest Mother, Today the soldiers that were still in Saint-Lô from the 1914 draft left. It was an impressive sight, all those young men singing and marching with Belgian flags in the barrels of their guns. The town of Saint-Lô offered a standard and we accompanied those who were leaving to the station where we formed an honour guard for them. Apparently the standard will be brought back when it is our turn to go. In any case, the men from the 1914 draft were well trained and well equipped after five months here. I am now part of the 9th Line regiment: ‘Régiment du Roi’. They say our training will take longer due to a lack of instructors and weapons. Mother, don’t forget to send me a copy of ‘L’Indépendance’ once in a while and a copy of ‘The Daily Mirror’ once a week. Send me tobacco and cigarettes as well; there are no customs on them. You no longer have to stick stamps on letters sent to soldiers either. The first day they shaved everyone’s hair off. I was able to escape it until today, but now it was my turn. I gave the barber 25 centimes and he left me just enough hair to keep a hint of a parting so I don’t look completely ape-like. I’ll have a picture taken soon. I’ll stop now because the post is coming. Many kisses to my two darlings, Valentin Parade by Belgian troops in the streets of Saint-Lô Valentin would remain in the barracks of Saint-Lô (Centre d’Instruction) until October 6th 1915. In April no one yet knew how long the training would take. The recruits learned to advance in a firing line or charge trenches with the cry “Vive le Roi” or “other crazy things” which resulted in uncontrollable laughter. They moved from one room to another in the barracks, sleeping on the dirty mattresses of previous inhabitants until they finally got new straw sacks that they filled with fresh straw, two bushels per person. The cleaning of the rooms caused large dust clouds. The spring cleaning at home was a joy compared to this. Once all was completed, the lieutenant came by on a daily basis to check if everything was in order and that the floor was swept after every meal. Juliette Dewaele knew Commander Wenis. He and Camille Dewaele (Valentin’s father) were both from Gijverinkhove, a small village near the French border. Wenis was now in command of a company of the third regiment (Ostend). Juliette believed Valentin would be safer with him and so the commander promised to do what he could, though nothing would be decided before the end of the training. Valentin received regular parcels bringing a square pipe, cigarettes, tobacco, matches, underwear, shirts, socks, chocolate (the Meunier chocolate was no good, it seemed as if it were made with sand), a cake and an inflatable cushion. Aunty Léontine sent an original parcel; underwear, sardines, jam, a cake and a deck of cards. Mrs. Eglington sent rusks, toffees, sweets, cocoa powder and packet soups from London. In the barracks the inoculations were given. These included cowpox, typhus, tetanus and cholera. The recruits were lined up facing the wall with their chests bare. A nurse walked the line dabbing iodine on their backs and a doctor followed with a needle which was inserted 5cm into the back; ‘it didn’t hurt’. However, the same needle was used for the entire regiment. Occasionally deserters were led past in cuffs on the way to the lock-up. Drinking was rife, so much so that military patrols had to be put in place to maintain order. The majority of cafés in nearby towns closed their doors when the Belgian soldiers were seen to be heading that way. Sometimes the entire barracks were confined to quarters for drunkenness. On Sunday after mass the troops were usually given weekly leave. One particular Sunday hundreds of soldiers were massed behind locked gates pushing and shoving. No one knew what was happening and no explanation was given; it almost led to a mutiny. Eventually someone arrived with the key and it turned out the drunk sergeant-major had forgotten to pass on the permission for leave to the watch. Life was tedious and the soldiers quickly tired of the food. Unexpectedly a new major by the name of Granville arrived. He was very demanding, and had his men training, jumping, crawling and running until after twelve instead of half past eleven, but the food improved under his command, and there was even rice in the soup now. Every week fresh supplies arrived: from new uniforms to Mauser rifles and French bayonets. Valentin was happy, he was well adjusted to his new climate, and there were many fun moments despite the tedium of military routine. The mood remained light as everyone was convinced that the war wouldn’t last much longer: it would definitely be over by the end of 1915… Training in Saint-Lô Saint-Lô, May 16th 1915 Dearest Mother, First and foremost I would like to wish you a happy holiday, I am sure we will be celebrating it together in Ostend next year, and that there will be peace. Shall I tell you something? I just rented a room in Saint-Lô with three friends. We are paying 24 francs per month, 6 francs each. Why did we do it? Well, this morning we were told that the lieutenant was on the way to inspect the rooms. So we immediately started cleaning, polishing and dusting, as we should. The inspection went smoothly, but then that pig of a lieutenant told us that all trunks have to be removed from the rooms by tomorrow. No trunks in the rooms! I immediately brought mine to the restaurant where I usually eat. They will keep it for me until tomorrow. From there, the four of us went looking for a room. Now we finally have a sort of home. I hope you won’t disapprove of my actions. I have bad news, my money is nearly gone, I barely have 20 francs left. I have spent quite a lot recently. That will change now though, I am starting to know the town and its people and their ways. It is quite an education. I have decided not to spend more than 2 francs a day, so 60 francs a month. That means 1.25 francs to go towards dinner in the evening. With the remaining 0.75 francs I have to pay for the washing, the jam and the drink, and of course the rent for the room. You have to buy the drink; you get nothing in the barracks. Could you send me some money in a registered letter? It should arrive like an ordinary letter, in 3 or 4 days. Belgian currency is O.K. as I can exchange it here. Dearest Mother, thousand kisses again and best wishes from your Valentin Saint-Lô, May 18th 1915 Dearest Mother, This time I wanted to write with pen and ink for a change, instead of always writing with a pencil. So I looked for a good café, it is called ‘Café du Grand Balcon’ and advertises on the entrance door: ‘Réunion de MM. les Commerçants et Voyageurs’. I have ordered cherry grenadine, and here we go...with pen, ink, and some decent writing paper. You asked me if I would write down hour by hour what I do here: I plan to do it but up until now there hasn’t been time. With our new major it’s non-stop from morning to night, cleaning, polishing, waxing, training, inspection. He is terribly demanding, but if we do well we sometimes get extra leave during the week. So a few more days of patience for my diary, all right? I just had the nicest meal. Do you want to know what was on the menu? Roast veal with salad, two fried eggs, bread and butter to your heart’s desire and a big jug of cider. All that for 1.25 francs! I don’t think I’ve ever eaten as well, even better than at home! Our rented room really is a privilege! Finally a place far from all of the barrack’s nonsense, where we can sleep, rest, write letters, shelter from the rain and wash properly. I hope you don’t mind us permitting ourselves this small luxury? My roommates are fine men, all from Antwerp and well-connected. One is part of a firm of shipping agents, another is involved with coffee wholesale and the third is in the canned goods industry. There are always flowers in our room. We also got some new uniforms. We are fully clothed in white for the training, yet with these clothes we have to lie down flat on the ground in the grit, jump up and then lie down again, and have to repeat it up to ten times or more. You can imagine what our uniforms look like by the end of the week. Then they have to be washed between Saturday evening and Sunday evening, that costs another 1.35 francs a week, and the prices are rising. To go out we have grey slacks and a blue woollen jacket. I had a fever for two days, some type of flu. I couldn’t stand on my own two legs but Joseph De Laet and Maurice Lejour looked after me. Lejour has gone to Paris for two days, his first real leave. I would have liked to go to London, but what can I do, it takes 24 hours just to get to Le Havre! Unfortunately his leave was ruined; just before he left he found out that his brother, who is an interpreter with the English armed forces, was wounded, and that his father in Belgium was put in jail by the Germans while he was paying his rail employees. Reason unknown. Maurice studied engineering for three years and is being transferred to Eu, an artillery camp. One of the three jars of jam that you sent me is broken. In the future, please use cans rather than glass jars. The shirts, socks and handkerchiefs you sent are so unsightly that I don’t want them: I divided them amongst my comrades. You won’t forget to send me a pipe? And tobacco, English tobacco please, I can’t handle the strong French tobacco! I think I’ll switch to butter on my bread, I eat too much jam. Half a pound per week should do. I pity my friends who get nothing from home, I don’t know how they stand it, because the food in the barracks is bad and there isn’t enough. Please don’t go back to Ostend, even if you are bored stiff in London! A friend, a corporal, lost his family: both of his parents, his two sisters and his house at the harbour station, during an allied bombardment of Ostend! I hug you a thousand times. Stay strong: we’ll be reunited in Ostend sooner than you think! We’ll get those grey lice out (Belgian term for the German soldiers based on their grey uniforms). Valentin Leave pass for Valentin Theory, Training and Stew The routine week of Valentin in the Bellevue barracks in Saint-Lô: Monday May 23rd 5:45 Get up. Put on blue trousers, socks and clogs. Fold dress uniform and store in closet. Fold blanket and mattress. Place mattress on neighbour’s mattress. 6:00 Coffee. Wash. Have to hurry, the taps are sealed at 6:15. Polish boots, take coffee (one ladle), off to the washroom that only has taps and a drain. Back to the room for breakfast with bread and apple sauce. Get dressed. Orderly checks the room, making a lot of dust in the process. 6:30 Theory: ranks, wind directions, military law. We find out that Austria and Italy have declared war. The paper seller is at the gate. Theory is cancelled for today. Everyone pushes to get a paper. 8-11:00 Training. Leave, we can leave the barracks. But we have to be back by 12:30 so there is no point in getting changed. 12:00 Soup and stew... always stew. When this is over I never want to see stew again! Our squad has to peel potatoes today. By the end there are barely ten of us left. We leave the bag as it is, the others can finish peeling! 13:00 Post. Nothing for me. 14-16:00 Training. 16:00 Go to my room in the city, in dress uniform. Write a letter. Supper at Legraverand restaurant (steak, potatoes, lettuce, bread and butter, two eggs: 1.25 francs.) with several friends. Buy a paper, back to the barracks, conversation with those who just got back from leave in Paris. Tuesday May 24th 5:45 Get up. My friend gets my coffee for me while I go to wash. 6:30 Theory, always the same. Until 7:30. 7:30 Stand in line. 7:45 Go down and wait for the officer. Present arms. Receive orders. Off we go, bugles leading: training or marching? Marching! We walk through the town, people come out and watch. Outside town the order ‘pas de route’ is given. This means we no longer march in step and are allowed to talk. Subjects of conversation: travel, artillery and machinery. Very hot sun, we perspire despite our light cotton training uniform. The tail of the company halts badly, as punishment they have to run circuits for half an hour. Theory in the shade of the trees. For the 100th time the sergeant goes on about ranks, saluting, wind direction and military law. The lieutenant examines us; it goes well, we know our stuff. Large circuit round the town, and back to the barracks. Dead tired. We barely get up the stairs. 14:00 Theory, all afternoon, always the same: ranks. We smoke and laugh. 17:45 Dress uniform. 18:00 Barracks gate. Out. Room, letter, eat, back to the barracks. Chatting and laughing in the room. Muster by the sergeant: either in correct uniform with cap on or in bed under the covers (permitted after 19:30). If half dressed, quickly get in bed. Order: ‘Au pied du lit’ Wednesday May 25th Usual routine. Warm weather approaching. Training: drop to knees, lie down, crawl forward, advance in a firing line. Quarter of an hour’s rest; we get twenty five minutes because the major sees we are drenched in sweat. The sergeant is reprimanded for making us train with the sun in our eyes. The major organises tea and coffee for after the training. He is a good man. Gymnastics until 12:00. 12-12:30 Lunch, not hungry. Take a break, talk to Maurice Lejour about his misfortune. 14:00 Post. ‘Dewaele Valentin’ I run: only a shirt. What a disappointment. 14:30 Training on the ‘Champ de Mars’ marching field in the shade of the trees. The same as this morning. Extremely thirsty so I buy a litre of cider. Evening: No theory, we talk and sleep, I go to my room in town. Good food in the restaurant. Interesting conversation with a lawyer from Brussels, a sergeant, back from the front. Thunder and rain. Thursday May 26th 6:00 Due to the warm weather training starts earlier in the mornings (7 instead of 8:00) and later in the afternoons (3 instead of 2). It happens to be cooler now and it’s raining. We don’t have to lie on the ground, crawling on our knees is enough. Gymnastics. Distribution of spades and instruction on how to dig and set up a trench. 12:00 Lunch, soup and stew. Not hungry. 14:00 Post, one parcel with a vest. Another disappointment! 15:00 Same training as this morning, but this time flat on our belly, and aiming the rifle. We aim at our lieutenant who is an ass, and can barely contain our laughter. 17:45 Back in the barracks. We’re late. Monthly medical check up. The lieutenant and the doctor argue. 18:00 Off to the restaurant with my friend, a French corporal. Friday May 27th Training, the major is there to check up on us. He congratulates us. Afternoon, the same again, endless repetition, we count how many times we start the drills over, we laugh until we can barely stand. Off to the station to pick up a parcel, all tasty things! Saturday May 28th I wake up to the blinding light of the sun in my eyes. The corporal in charge of our room is already up, he’s writing letters. I go back to sleep. The bugle sounds, I get up quickly, get dressed, polish my boots, eat and wash. Everything has to be in order by 6:30: unannounced inspection of quarters by the lieutenant while we are training. Today we are staying in the barracks-courtyard. Nothing worse than training here. Endless shouts of ‘Portez... arme!’, ‘Présentez... arme!’, ‘Déposez... arme!’... At 9:00 it is our turn to shower, all in one big shower unit. Under every shower there is a washbasin that we have to stand in. Nothing else to do until 3:00. The registered letter with my money has arrived. 15-17:45 Training in the courtyard again, ‘Portez... arme!’, ‘En avant, marche!’, ‘Halte!’... Really dull, and so incessant, it lasted for almost three hours. There was a small incident, one of the men refused to follow orders. The corporal asked the man to accompany him to the lieutenant and the soldier refused. The corporal then ordered the man to follow him. Again he refused. The corporal reported to the lieutenant: ‘a soldier refuses to follow orders’. Two minutes later two soldiers with bayonets on their rifles came and led him away to the lock-up. Sunday May 29th Big inspection at 9:30 today. At 8:00 the boots have to be oiled, using our hands, a dirty job. Apparently that’s good for the leather. We laugh and sing. We are all given a pair of gloves cut from fancy cloth that are far too big. We have to wear them when the lieutenant carries out his inspection. There he is, everything is dead quiet: he passes slowly, checks if the mess-tins and drinking bottles are clean. One of us has to take his boots off to show that his feet are washed. Our room passes, no comments. I read the paper, not sure what to do today. Saint-Lô isn’t really a thrilling town. Eventually I go to the barber. Oh yes, I have to look for another woman to do the washing, mine has too much work since there are so many soldiers. My friend has a good one so we try there, she says she can do it. Success! Never thought I would find someone so fast. Then a walk in the town, a drink, soup at the barracks, a nap, and more theory at 3:00. This time it’s a sergeant giving us lessons in morale: ‘Long live the King’, ‘we must obey and never grumble’, ‘life is hard at the front’... All so absurd we almost die laughing. To finish off we had to sing patriotic songs and ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary.’ Imagine that! At 4:00 we are free and wander around town looking in shop windows and reading the papers. There is a whole group of us and we stop for a cup of coffee on a café terrace. Incredible atmosphere. My friend and I leave to go to our usual restaurant. I meet Maurice Lejour, we have such fun we lose track of the time and have to run like mad men to make it back to the barracks on time. We make small talk for at least another hour in our room, and then it goes quiet again. Tomorrow the week starts anew. We actually have fun here. Of course we talk about serious issues, but we do it out of principle and then laugh about it later. Dear Mother, this is my routine, let Alice study this. Is her Wycombe Abbey School not far better? Valentin Continuous night marches and target practice became standard. During the first target practice Valentin was asked to shoot targets at 200 metres; this didn’t go well and it became clear that he was near-sighted and was prescribed glasses that he never wore. Upon finding out his mother wrote: Exaggerate your near-sightedness, say you can’t see a thing, you will fail your medical exam and be stationed away from the front. Do everything you can to avoid joining the machine gunners who are sent to the trenches to die. There are terrible stories in the paper. What would I do without you? I could never revive our business in Ostend all by myself as a widow. I am begging you, make sure you never end up at the front line! Do everything you can to stay at the barracks in Saint-Lô. Valentin considered this unworthy of himself and replied: I will never make even the slightest attempt to fail a medical exam or to avoid being sent to the front. It is my solemn duty to help win the war. The only thing I am willing to do is avoid asking to be sent straight to the front, despite the fact that a lot of people are doing just that. We won’t be in these barracks for much longer in any case. The lease is up in August and the Belgian state no longer has the money to extend it. Valentin wrote letters asking his mother to send several items including name tags with the numbers 4878, 4881 and 4883 written in permanent ink so that they could be sewn into his underwear and that of two friends who would be very grateful. He also asked for a belt with a money pouch and 600 francs or English gold in case he should be taken prisoner by the Germans. Valentin asked for socks for the soldiers Nibus and Liégeois as well as socks, shirts and handkerchiefs for Vermaut as their families were in occupied territory and could not be contacted. He also requested of his mother that she play hostess for a few days to Jean Meyer who had nowhere else to go on leave. There was a big Red Cross party in Caen and Valentin was invited. Tickets were, in Valentin’s opinion, an unreasonable 20 francs. He writes in his diary: What an outrage! What soldier can afford that on 3 francs per week? And the French, they get even less, only 0.30 francs per week! Each week more supplies arrived including: boots, uniforms, backpacks, coats, large 50kg tins of hard tack, blankets, bags and mess-tins. Saluting the colour at Caserne Bellevue, Saint-Lô News from Occupied Ostend In Great Britain ‘L’Indépendance Belge’ occasionally printed news from occupied Belgium. Valentin’s mother Juliette sent Valentin the following article. Ostend 1915 A correspondent for ‘L’Indépendance Belge’ gave us the following accounts from the Belgian coastal region: They relay the situation as it was two weeks prior. At first glance, it seems Ostend has resumed its usual activities. And yet there is a considerable difference if one remembers the great days of the past. The elegant crowds are replaced by Teutonic masses, floods of refugees and many German citizens. Kapellestraat and Weststraat are as busy now as they were before the war. Most shops are open. Locals are also doing business but unfortunately most businesses are now in the hands of Germans who swooped in behind the army like a crowd of starving vultures. They sell all sorts: underwear, hats, newspapers, jewels, post-cards, souvenirs. The bazaars are also working full time. The shopkeepers are earning well but the jewellers are doing best of all. The German officers are very generous and shower their sweethearts in Ostend with expensive gifts. Before the war ‘The Queen of seaside resorts’ was known for its frivolity, but the current excess and debauchery knows no bounds. Pork-butchers are becoming extremely wealthy. One of the best known butchers is breaking all records thanks to the recommendation of a Prussian officer who is head over heels in love with the daughter of the house... The German soldiers pilfer everything and leave little for the local citizens. The cafés are doing wonderful business, especially with the German officers. Hôtel de Bavière has become a real German Bierstube. All of the cafés on Wapenplein are open. Excelsior, however, has fallen into disrepute with them as the owner refuses to sell any German beer. Café de l’Empereur has been commandeered for officers’ quarters, and the German music corps gives concerts in the kiosks on Wapenplein, in Leopoldpark or Bois de Boulogne on a daily basis. The promenade is only accessible to pedestrians between Hotel Continental and the Gallery meaning bathers are only allowed on the beach and in the sea between these two places. The Royal Chalet is still abandoned. The beautiful Palace Hotel, opposite Wellington-racecourse, has become barracks and stabling. Casino Kursaal has not taken any damage but is in complete disrepair. The harbour station has also survived, it was only slightly damaged by the bombardments, but there are piles of broken glass everywhere. Several bombs came down on Kerkstraat, Ooststraat, St. Paulusstraat, opposite Afspanning in de Zon, near Thermae Palace Hotel, on Monplaisir, various places around Stephanie Square etc. The new lighthouse was partly destroyed by the British fleet and 15 German officers that were standing on an observation platform were mown down. Fort Napoleon was completely restored by the Germans. There is heavy artillery on the promenade. The port and pier are undamaged. In the harbour area only Hôtel du Phare is open but is completely overrun by German officers. In Van Iseghemlaan several ‘bars’ have shot up where indescribable orgies are held. The better houses are used as command centres or quarters for high ranking officers. Others have been transformed into hospitals. On normal days the farmers come to market; they are accompanied by their mayor and are only allowed in town for a limited time. Payments are made using Belgian or German currency, or with ‘bons de ville’ a type of bank note issued by the town. Life for the locals who stayed true to their town is without joy. People who have no contacts have a very hard time. Here, like everywhere in Belgium, fines are commonplace. You would be hard pressed to find a single citizen of Ostend who has not paid a fine, either large or small to the German authorities. Labourers who work for the city have to complete tasks for the Germans at 3 francs per day. The unemployed are put to work in bakeries and institutions which cater for the rationing of the population. The bread is brown and stays brown. There is almost no fish, and any that comes from the Netherlands is too expensive for empty pockets. The Germans occupy all school buildings so lessons are given in private homes with replacement teachers. All good and true Belgians, and that’s most, pray for better times. There is often depression and defeatism, but the people encourage each other and hope blooms for the liberation that will come soon. German troops and music on the Wapenplein in Ostend  Normandy is Magnificent Saint-Lô, June 28th 1915 Dearest sister, Alice Thank you for the garden flowers you sent, it was very nice of you. Do not grumble if I don’t write to you often enough, there is so much to do here and so little time. Are you getting used to boarding school? You certainly should not think that your life is hard. Otherwise, what should I think? I sleep on hard straw sacks while wrapped in a filthy blanket, I eat my soup and meat with my hands, and have to train for hours in the burning sun as well as doing a thousand other things that you couldn’t even imagine before the day is done. If you get homesick and sad, compare our lives and you’ll realise that your boarding school is a paradise. Today the men who have been issued with rifles were practising a bayonet charge, it is the first time I have had a chance to see it. It’s a mad spectacle; the enemies stand ready 50 metres apart and at the sound of the bugle they charge with a cry of ‘Vive le Roi!’. Then they fence with the bayonets and those that are hit are pronounced dead and fall to their knees. Obviously the bayonets used for training are special retractable ones. About fifty men from the class of 1914 have left Saint-Lô. One of them gave me his bed, meaning I can finally, after two and a half months, sleep in a real bed. It’s not a soft bed but it’s better than the ground, especially with all the mice running around. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep the bed since they come and take the beds each time more sick soldiers are brought to the infirmary. Dearest Alice, a thousand kisses from your brother Valentin Saint-Lô, August 13th 1915 Dearest Mother, How are you? I have not heard from you since last Saturday. I hope that you have definitively put the crazy notion of going back to Ostend out of your head. Over there you would not be able to hear anything from either of your children. What then? Apparently we won’t be staying here past the 15th of September. Then we are off to the front, but don’t worry. We meet a lot of injured soldiers who tell us the front isn’t as bad as they write in the papers. We are out on manoeuvres at the moment meaning inspections and parades are constant. We go swimming nearly every day, it’s wonderful. Why didn’t they think of it earlier? The summer’s nearly over now. While we are swimming, the major, lieutenant, a few nurses, etc., stand and watch shouting ‘careful!’ and ‘not so far!’ We aren’t allowed deeper than we can stand. They are even more worried about us than you are mother. We have a lot of fun walking by the groves and following small paths; we pick apples, nuts, pears, plums and peaches in the gardens and orchards of the farmers along the way, just like real poachers. I’m sure you think it’s scandalous that we behave this way, but for us it is great fun. We do have to be careful though, because if we are caught it means four days in the lock-up. The apples aren’t great, they are cider apples and taste very bitter, probably a good thing for the farmers or they wouldn’t have any cider this year. Everyone here is really nice to us. Sometimes we are invited to eat a few eggs and drink some cider at a farmer’s house. Their cider is much nicer than what we are served in the cafés. Mother, Alice told me in her last letter that you are drinking quite a bit of whisky, that every occasion is a good enough reason to bring out the bottle. You are right, I drink a glass every now and then too. But no wine, it’s not worth it. The wine costs 0.75 francs per litre and tastes like vinegar, it’s poison and more expensive than in Paris apparently. It costs 2 francs per litre to get a bit of quality. They are ripping the soldiers off here in Saint-Lô. Listen mother, keep up your courage, and do not let yourself go. I would love to go on leave for a visit but they are letting almost no one go. They are promising us regular leave when we get to the front. It won’t be long until we go, I can feel it in the air. We can all hear the rumours and are watching the preparations being made. What if you wrote to the Commission for Leave explaining that you want to return to Ostend to re-open our business but want to talk to me about it first. Maybe they would grant me leave. Whatever you do, do not actually go back to Ostend, I forbid it most firmly even if Uncle Emile and Uncle Henri are foolishly preparing to risk the journey just to look after their businesses. Please don’t follow suit, I beg you. On my part I will do everything I can to contact Commander Wenis as soon as I am shipped off to the front. I send hugs to Aunt Eudoxie and my cousins, and the most tender of kisses to you and Alice. Valentin Saint-Lô, August 28th 1915 My dearest Mother, Thank you for your long letter. I haven’t really written very much in the last few days. Swimming, eating, a few drinks and the day is over before you realise it. There was more entertainment this week. Several French soldiers and one Belgian were to be decorated. The ceremony was accompanied by a parade led by a French officer. It’s quite unusual for Belgian soldiers to be led by a Frenchman. I’ll send you a picture of the ceremony. Nothing crazy yet, but the following day a march was planned. In the absence of the major, Commander Leroy assumed command. You have to picture this man, he has a round head squatting on a thick neck, a face like a red pumpkin with a nose the length and breadth of a chubby carrot and a body as round as a beer barrel. His character is that of a fanatic and an old nag. The entire battalion had to go, and he insisted on riding a horse. So there we are at seven in the morning marching through the town, music playing and a mounted commander in the lead. But then what happens? His trousers start to ride up so that everyone can see his big white calves. O shame! He manoeuvres aside and orders someone to re-adjust his trouser legs. A while later it happens again, and a second man has to struggle, pull and tug until everything is back in its place. But it doesn’t stay there for long. He gallops off a short distance and this time it is a non-commissioned officer who has to adjust his trouser legs. In the mean time we had arrived in the main street. It was only a matter of time before he was back in position yet again, with both legs bare. Eventually they had to try to fasten his trouser legs with a piece of string. That is how we ended our triumphant march led by our commander with the naked calves. We had never had such an entertaining march. We are really savouring the scenery here. Normandy is magnificent. After the war we will have to come here on holiday. Much love to my sweet mother, Valentin Good news on 30th August from Captain-Commander Camiel Wenis of the 3rd Line regiment, which Valentin would like to join at the insistence of his mother. August 29th My dearest comrade, I have just received a letter from Mrs Dewaele wherein she requests that I inform her of the formalities involved in assigning you to the 3rd Line regiment upon your arrival at the front. I have promised to arrange everything to see her wish fulfilled. Here is the procedure you should follow: within a week of your arrival in your company you should apply for a transfer to the 3rd Line regiment. In fact one has a full month to apply for the transfer, however it is wise not to wait that long. Let me know which company you are in and also forward me your commander’s name so that I may ask him to look upon your request favourably. Once you are in the 3rd Line regiment I will ensure that you become part of my company. Quite simple isn’t it? I am convinced that your moral fibre is good and that you are not afraid to make acquaintance with our ‘comrades’ on the other side. You will see that life at the front may be harder from a material point of view but it is much more pleasant than barracks. See you soon then, and do help your mother to be courageous. A firm handshake, Wenis Captain-Commander 3rd Line 3/11 Ist D.A. The efforts of Valentin’s mother and Commander Wenis were wasted. Valentin was not to be sent to the front in October to join the machine gunners but would be selected instead as an artilleryman and be transferred to the Artillery Instruction Centre in Eu, Seine-Maritime. Commander Wenis was to be killed in action in Steenstrate five months later on January 5th 1916. Mr. W.H. Knowles, Manager of Debenhams in London, supplier of material for Juliette and Valentin’s drapery shop in Ostend, wrote the following: London, September 19th 1915 Dear Valentine, [sic] I was much pleased to receive your kind letter and to hear of your experiences of a soldier’s life and your hopes and expectations. And I am so pleased you are a ‘volontaire’ instead of a conscripted soldier and so must you be. I hope that you will be able to do what you can for your country and that you may not receive any injuries. I have not seen your mother since we left Ashley Gardens on July 19th. But I have written to her that we are now settled and will be glad to see her and Alice any time they wish to come. I expect that they are well or I should have heard from them. As I am sure they would come to me if in sickness or trouble. I am glad to tell you that we are all in much better health since we came to the country. We are up on a hill about 500ft above London. And all about us is 9 miles of parks and commons, fine perfect air and no smells of London. I hope you will someday give us the pleasure of seeing you here in health and without injury. To us the war seems to be destined to be a long one as the Allies seem to be without munitions and are being chiefly supplied with them from America. England is slow to move but just as hard to stop. We pray for the Allies’ success for it is the just cause and God’s blessing must be on their side. We shall always be pleased to hear from you. Our best of wishes and prayers for your health and safety. Sincerely yours, W.H. Knowles. Saint-Lô, September 23rd 1915 Dearest Mother, So Alice is back at boarding school and you are alone again. I wish that I were with you. A few days ago we had another bit of fun. We were digging trenches and learning how to get in and out of them. There were three new corporals and they were giving orders in Dutch. No one could understand them, my section speaks French; they tried using signals and sign language but everything went wrong. After a while we all just burst out laughing, it was crazy; we were all just standing there and couldn’t understand each other. The departures have begun: one group to the engineers, one to the machine gunners and another to the military police. There are only 675 of us left, the barracks are emptying. This morning at 11:00 we went to a service for the father of one of our corporals. He was a commander and died in battle. For the service, we had to wear our dress uniforms but in the afternoon we had to dig more trenches so we changed into our training gear again. We were only just ready when we got the order to change back, so we did and ended up waiting around, wondering what was going on. Within five minutes an excited sergeant charged in, informing us breathlessly that General de Selliers de Moranville would arrive shortly to inspect the barracks. This created general panic. We ran for buckets of water, brushes and mops. Once everything was drenched we heard that the sergeant had misunderstood and that the general was going to inspect us on the marching ground and not here. We got changed again, backpack, coat and gun. The officers stormed from one room to another winding us up like guard dogs. Two minutes later we marched, with music and the major in the lead. What a sight we were on the marching ground! Left, right, shoulder weapon, halt, forward. The battalion must have done well because we were congratulated by the general, though our troop made a mess of it; a sergeant who spends all his time behind a desk led us. The poor man lost his head; we didn’t carry out a single manoeuvre correctly... Your loving son, Valentin Saint-Lô, September 30th 1915 Dearest Mother, The money arrived safely. Thank you. When will you send the rest? Preferably 100 francs in 20 franc notes that I can keep for times of greatest need. Yesterday another 150 men left to join the machine gunners. Volunteers are accepted first and then other soldiers are chosen to make up the ranks. My three best friends have left, they begged me to go with them but I refused. I refused against my will, but I did it for you, mother. They say being a gunner is no more dangerous than anything else. Only Joseph De Laet is staying, as he is destined for the artillery corps. Not by chance; he requested it as soon as we arrived in Saint-Lô, and his father has many connections. To celebrate all this, we went for dinner at our usual restaurant and treated the three future machine gunners, who have since left us, to a champagne meal. It was only right, who knows when we will be able to see each other again. It cost me 10.50 francs, I hope you don’t mind. Another friend left for the engineer corps. Several more have left to sit the N.C.O Lieutenant exams but you need to have completed secondary school, all six years, which, unfortunately, I didn’t. I long to leave for the front. I send a thousand kisses, Valentin Valentin receives an enthusiastic post card from a French friend who spent some time on leave with Valentin’s mother in Deganwy. Saint-Lô, October 3rd 1915 Postal service of the Army of the French Republic Postage free card Dear Valentin How’s it going? I have good news from your family, all is well. I’m leaving for the fight. Onwards! We will hack the Boches to pieces. Even if I never get out. Hearing from you would give me pleasure. A friend for life. How about you? Are you at the front? Jean Meyer 2nd class 4th squadron. Easy Days with the Artillery Suddenly everything began to move very quickly. Valentin in his turn was also selected for the artillery. On October 10th his detachment was transported from Saint-Lô to Eu, Seine-Maritime, near Dieppe. The troops travelled in packed trains carrying as many civilians as soldiers and there were long stops in all sorts of small, shabby stations. They travelled in third class then in second and after switching trains completed the journey in a carriage attached to a freight train. The total journey time was 24 hours for about 250 kilometres. Initially in Eu Valentin and his companions slept on straw in an abandoned factory and were put straight onto horses. In the artillery a different uniform was worn. The new uniforms which were issued consisted of a new jacket and trousers, an old jacket and a grooming kit for the horses containing a brush and currycomb. Valentin’s first horse was called Jack but unfortunately didn’t suit him. His second horse looked more like a donkey but was otherwise allright. It was to be a wonderful time filled with long rides, continuous moves to farms, attics, barns and stables. In two words: easy days. He wrote requesting extra woollen underwear to keep warm and tight jockey shorts as they wore out very quickly on the saddle. The backside suffered, but enough iodine tincture was available. Khaki handkerchiefs were also welcome but certainly not the red ones his mother initially sent. He found new friends, Robert Duthoit for whom he also ordered underwear from home, and Rodolphe De Buck. Could his mother remember to send a pencil? And a torch, as they were often in very dark places. In France a torch cost 5 francs which was far too expensive. In London a torch only cost 2 shillings. When the soldiers stayed on farms relations with the farmers were good and they took their meals together. They were given milk, sugar, cider, fried potatoes and cakes. One and a half hours a day were designated for riding. The instructor regularly chased them with a whip to make the horses trot or canter and to toughen the men. Other than that, military life was suddenly fun and free. But when on duty you had to wheel the dung. Valentin (with helmet) and crew with a 105 mm Schneider gun On October 28th Valentin received a card from his friend Maurice Lejour who was already at the front. October 28th 1915 My dearest Valentin, I received your last two letters in good order. So you’re with the artillery? What battery? Try to get into the 6th battery, not to climb the ladder or get a commission, because that’s nonsense, but because the 6th battery has the best reputation in Eu! I was in it and have no regrets. Don’t think of commissions or ranks: what you earn behind the lines means nothing at the front. Here you would probably become a gunner, scout or telephonist. You have no chance of getting the post of driver. I’ve been on leave for nine days. I happened to run into Henri Van Graefschepe. We went out for a drink. This guy drinks like a horse every day! You couldn’t imagine a less disciplined soldier. With him you have more fun than with anyone else anywhere in the world. I have to add that he is in rude health. I met all of our old friends from Saint-Lô, among them Dethier, and others on the way to the front. I had a long chat with Wens de Schooten and Commander De Voghel Commander of C.I. of the 3rd Army Division.. These men had considered my transfer to the artillery carefully and knew my file to the smallest detail. I found this highly amusing. Anyway, when you write, give me your mother’s address in London, if I happen to go there during leave I’ll pay her a visit. Give my regards to De Laet. Your friend, Maurice Lejour. November 1st 1915 Dearest Mother, We have time off today for All Hallows. I spent a lot of time thinking about what we used to do on this day, and I thought of father who rests there in Ostend, so far from us both. For the second year now there will be no flower on his grave. I went to the village cemetery to see how they adorn the graves here. We are unlucky with the weather; it has been nice all week and on Sunday it started to rain. A Flemish fair for the wounded was held in the village. There was a shed for the wrestlers, a hut with a fortune teller and a lion enclosure, but when we went in, there was a donkey staring us in the face! As you can tell, all very rural. On the subject of our lodgings we are in luck. We are staying with hospitable farmers who give us all sorts of treats; in the evenings all twelve of us share a very long table with them. Could you remember to send that torch? And another one for my friend; don’t worry he will pay for it! Sweet Mother, once again many kisses from your Valentin Eu November 16th 1915 Dearest Mother, Do you know it has been precisely seven months since we last saw each other? And every time I ask for leave it is refused: ‘training hasn’t been completed’, ‘the stated reasons aren’t serious enough’ etc... I don’t think it’s fair. I always do my best, in all this time I have not had a single reprimand, but the thing is I do not have a recommendation from a minister or general. There are plenty of people going on leave because they know the right people. I think that’s disgraceful. We celebrated for two days. Do you know why? King’s day! We were off from 1 o’clock. The food was better than usual: potatoes and salad and cold pork (which they tried to pass off as veal). King Albert even gave us half a pound of chocolate, but it seemed as if there was sand in it! At this stage we are racing the horses and towing cannons. Sometimes I am on a horse and sometimes I ride on the cannon. We have also started theory lessons about the artillery, how to aim etc. Interesting and very physically demanding. I went to the cinema with Joseph De Laet today, it is the first time I have been to one since I left London. He is lucky, he is getting leave to visit his father in London. His father has just arrived in England from Antwerp. I am working out my travel route while my request for leave is under way. If I go through Calais it is free but takes a day longer. Through Dieppe you have to pay but you do get there quicker. Could you remember my underwear and my pipe? Soon we’re getting a fresh round of inoculations, a cholera vaccine this time. Whatever you do, don’t send a panicked telegram if you don’t hear from me for a few days. The post is irregular and a telegram brings with it many complications: an entry on my report, resulting in abuse, accusations and more. I received the five 20 franc notes but I can’t find anyone who can and will give me change, even in the office. So I had to borrow from Joseph De Laet. I’m doing everything I can to be granted leave, but I can’t give you much hope. Anyway, time will tell. Many loving kisses, Valentin Valentin’s “war godfather” writes regularly. November 18th 1915 19, Lyndhurst Road, Hampstead, N.W. My dear Valentin, Very many thanks for your most interesting letter. Mrs Singer and I have so often talked of you and it was a real pleasure to both of us to hear all your news and to know that you are well and happy. Your mother dined with us last night. She seems very much better than when you left and she is very happy to know that you have nursed into the artillery. We wish you the best of luck and hope you will be rapidly promoted. Alice gets on very well at Wycombe Abbey School and Ruth often mentions her name in her letters to us. We have had very bad weather lately, several degrees of frost, some snow and rain and much wind. I hope the weather is kinder to you. If you are still billeted [sic] in a farm I expect you manage to make yourselves fairly comfortable. We shall always be delighted to hear from you whenever you have time and inclination to write. With very best wishes from us all. Yours sincerely, Daniel Singer. By the end of 1915 Valentin’s mother felt that she should leave her host family in London. There had been tension for some time and living independently appealed to her. The hope that the war would be over soon had passed, and staying in London in order to be closer to Ostend and home seemed pointless. In his letters, Valentin strongly suggested that she stay in London until Christmas to celebrate with the Graveners, the Singers and the Knowles, and then move to Deganwy in North Wales to celebrate New Year in Aubrey Cottage with her sister Eudoxie and her five nieces and nephews. Eudoxie’s husband, Emile Libert had obtained a travel pass and returned via the Netherlands to Ostend to attend to his home and business. As a result, for the following three years Juliette and Eudoxie lived together, Alice was still in Wycombe Abbey School, the nieces and nephews were also at school and two were soon to go to university where, as refugees, they could study free of charge, or at reduced enrolment fees. Finally, after the New Year of 1916, a full 8 months after he had volunteered, Valentin was granted his first leave. After the crossing from Boulogne to Folkestone he visited his sister in Wycombe Abbey School and then moved on to spend a week in North Wales. On the 8th of January, a day late after missing his boat the previous day due to a delayed train, he sailed back to Calais on rough seas. There are no letters from this time spent with his family. In the following letters, written once again from the training centre in Eu, he does allude to how much he was spoilt during his leave, most notably by Aunt Eudoxie, an excellent pastry cook, to whom he refers as ‘suikertante’ or Aunt Sugar-marzipan. German zeppelins bombarded London. In response there was furious firing from the ground. Meanwhile in Eu it was hard work training the new recruits. Uncle Jerôme from Aardenburg in the Netherlands sent a parcel full of delicacies: Dutch rusks, dates, jam, coffee and milk powder, sardines and meat pies. Valentin on his horse To the Front On February 20th 1916 Valentin finally left Eu travelling on the night train heading to the front in ‘familiar territory’ as he called it. Both his father and mother were from Westhoek, Gijverinkhove and Voormezele respectively, on the French border in Western Belgium. Names and places are censored in the letters; they were military secrets. The 200km trip took 10 hours. At first glance everything seemed to be going well: ‘finally back in Belgium, land of beer and tobacco!’ It was peaceful, there was a lot of free time, quarters were comfortable and the battery was a real fort. But it was cold at night and the men only had one blanket each. They slept together and shared the blankets, meaning they had two blankets and their overcoats to keep them warm. The soldiers rode without stirrups and without spurs, another harsh trial for the backside. Luckily, here too, there was a good supply of iodine tincture. They spent several days in the battery and sturdy shelters, and then another week in the echelon at the rear where they were quartered on deserted farms and made beds from salvaged planks. When they had the time, they searched for more straw to make mattresses and went for long enjoyable rides on the horses. Valentin was placed with the 59th battery (of the 4th Artillery Regiment, 4th Army Division), with four 105mm cannons and 100 men. His friend, Maurice Lejour, was a scout with the 60th battery, a dangerous but exciting position. While his cousin Henri Van Graefschepe was struggling in the trenches 5km further down the line in a very dangerous zone. “I pity the foot soldiers”, Valentin writes “the cold, the mud, the danger... Everyone has a helmet, a gas mask and a pistol now”. In the letters to his mother it appeared as if all was well: “Everything is going well, we go for walks, there is no danger with the artillery; it is much worse in the trenches.” In contrast, in a letter to his sister in Wycombe he confides: Two men from my battery are to be decorated today. The battery next to us fired so effectively that the German trenches opposite them collapsed completely. This made the Germans so angry that they fired back wildly, and accurately. An officer and a warrant officer were heavily wounded. They called for an extra stretcher and two of our men ran through enemy fire to get the victims out. Both men died some time later. On April 2nd 1916 Lieutenant René De Vleeschouwer, who sometimes went on holiday in Deganwy and was a friend of the Libert family and husband of their pre-war governess Alice Deroo, wrote a letter to Valentin in a satirical, somewhat cynical style. April 2nd 1916 My dear Valentin, Sincere thanks for your kind letter. A letter, you see, that is as an olive branch brought by the dove of Noah’s Ark! I did not have your new address, but they gave it to me in Deganwy, so here I am. I hope that you will get all my letters from now on and that you will stay as determined as you are now to experience the great happiness of being with your mother once again. You wish me luck with my promotions. Trust me though, I don’t deserve those wishes! I’ve been sitting here wearing through the rear of my pants in these shelters for over a year. Not much to it really, is there? If I had earned my stripes in the offensive, that would have been something! You tell me your cousin Henri is losing faith. I do share your opinion on that: one shouldn’t take things to heart, think, or ask questions. Has he forgotten that sunshine follows rain? Or could he possibly doubt our inevitable victory? I tell you Valentin, fill him up with courage: how noble, how sweet, how grand it is to fulfil his duty as a real soldier which they dare to call ‘poilus’ Infantrymen. Come on Valentin, pump some of your passion into him, it will do him good. Ah, so he thinks military law is strict? Don’t you agree, if we lived in that type of regime there would be more action and less egotism? And the discipline...But you know the rest, don’t you? And tell me, the trenches, isn’t that good air, the music of the café and the laughter of those who are luxuriating in a bomb crater? What a wonderful life, don’t you agree my dear Valentin? Not much news really, unless the wolves howl in the distant woods. So we bombard away. Peace, thanks to the shelling: paradoxical logic. A firm handshake. Tonight we are going to the fair. René The 4th Army Division occupied the Diksmuide sector until the May 10th 1916. After about ten days of rest and recuperation at the coast the division headed to the Ramskapelle sector. Bray-Dunes, May 18th 1916 My dearest Mother, Today the 18th of May is the day on which, in happier times, Alice and I would bring you flowers and perhaps a small surprise for your birthday. Now all this has to happen from a distance, and my kisses are of the tinned type. Let’s hope we can get back to our usual routine next year. In terms of leave, don’t expect me before August. If you don’t pay, you don’t get leave. That’s how it works here! You’re probably wondering why I’m writing from Bray-Dunes. We were relieved; we have left the front and are as they say ‘au repos’ for a week. We rode for the entire night, because relief happens only at night. We got an indescribable rolling and shaking because we were riding on the cannons. We were shattered after the trip and then, after all of that, had to set up our guns in the dunes. Now we are enjoying a special regime, one day there’s training, the next we are on call. It’s ideal being on call here; you don’t have to do anything, you play in the sand and the dunes, you walk in the water, all like it was ten years ago in Ostend, when we picnicked on the beach with Alice, played shop and sang ‘Venez acheter au Bon Marché...’ You lie in the sun baking, you sleep, smoke one pipe after another, simply paradise! Sport comes into it as well: running, swimming, gymnastics, hunting... rats. There are masses of them and we chase them with sticks and shovels and commit terrible slaughters, real bloodbaths! Everyone joins in: the lieutenant, the warrant officer, the non-commissioned officers. A thrilling pastime! Training is a disaster, but the horse riding is okay. We ride for miles through the dunes, climbing up to the highest peaks then cantering down. We had to jump fences which I had never done before. I clung onto the neck of my horse, and held on so I wouldn’t fall; I didn’t. ‘Doesn’t matter if you fall, it’s only sand’ shouted our lieutenant. When they start inspections it’s enough to drive you mad. At Whitsun they organised a large scale inspection which took over two hours. We had to present ourselves to the lieutenant one by one. How do they get it into their heads to insist on that sort of silliness during a full blown war? It almost makes you yearn for the front where they leave you alone and you can sleep in once in a while! Although for some reason they’ve decided to let us sleep half an hour longer now, until 5:00 instead of 4:30, a generous gift, don’t you think? It’s a pity that Lord Kitchener is dead. They finally had a competent general! We are going to play a football match and organise some horse races. Next time I write I will be back at the front. Did you know that Lauwers’ son was wounded? He doesn’t have to go back to the trenches, he’s with logistics now. I saw the Vercamer brothers, Julien and Daniel recently too. Lots of kisses and my heartfelt best wishes on your birthday. Valentin May 28th 1916 My dear Mother, Yes, I have left Bray-Dunes. Suddenly, we got an order to go back to the front. It took us half a day to get ready and since then, for the past three days, moving, camping and moving on again is all that we have done. Officially we are still on rest and recuperation, but the commander who has been away for two months is back and he’s making us work hard. He is obsessed with regulations. We could have made the trip in one go but they are making us do it in three stages. Why? You don’t ask questions around here, but it means repeatedly loading and unloading. We arrived at the farm that was our destination. Everyone ran to get a place to sleep; I was too late. Four of us made a tent out of sticks, canvas and tent pegs, we put some straw in with a blanket on top and we slept like logs. We even stayed dry despite the rain. Our battery is on the move, it’s quite a spectacle! Three carts with bags, kitchen utensils, tables and chairs, a complete cobbler’s workshop, and everything a farrier, saddler and tailor might need. After the second stage I had found a great place to sleep in a nice barn, but it wasn’t to be; we were all kicked out because the horses come first! We went back to our tent and the others slept in the trench shelters nearby. We finally arrived. The nights were fantastic: dinner, picnic, wrestling bouts, feats of strength, accordion playing and singing. In Calais we handed in our laundry and got everything back washed, repaired or new. You never get your own gear back but it’s all so worn you never get a bad exchange. In De Panne we went to a bath house where you could choose between a bath and shower. All of our gear was washed, disinfected and replenished again, what luxury! And – I almost forgot – we were given a towel and a handkerchief! Now we are at V., still resting, not far from the front. Every morning we rush over the cobbles with our cannons. We have a nice place to stay, a long rectangular space. The beds were even made; we’ve definitely never experienced anything like that before! Between each bed hangs a blanket, so that you almost get the impression of a dormitory in a boarding school. Not bad! The only disadvantage is that we are far from everything in the village. There is nothing to do here, no light, no ink, no pencil and no newspaper. You begin to lose track of time. It is hard to find anything to do in the afternoons, except maybe complete an odd job or watch an occasional horse race. I usually go for a swim in the canal, or go rowing in an old boat. Apparently I’ve gained weight. If it continues like this until the end of the war I’ll come home looking like a barrel. It certainly won’t be because of expensive wine or fine dishes! A thousand kisses from your son, Valentin Allied troops on the beach in De Panne Alice sends two letters to her mother in Deganwy every week. Cloister House, Wycombe Abbey, June 8th 1916 Dearest Mother, All this bad news! First the 14 ships which the Germans sent to the depths with 4000 to 5000 men on board. Then the death of Lord Kitchener! That made an impression on my English friends here at school, they were initially very sad, but a minute later they were playing the piano and singing. I couldn’t bear it so I went back to my room. And then I heard them say in the room next to mine that there are so many spies among the Belgians in England. I was furious. During ‘house study’ I spelt it out to my neighbour. She won’t say that again, believe me! Then this afternoon we had ‘back scratching’. It’s a revolting show, where we all have to appear naked in front of three people and show our front side and back. Terrible, it’s the most awful thing that happens here at school. Luckily it only happens once a year! Many kisses to everyone and especially you, Alice. By June 8th Valentin found himself back at the front, several kilometres behind the lines in the Ramskapelle sector. The rest and recuperation had seemed too long. “Our morale is excellent” he announced cheerfully. He had almost no time to write as life had become so hectic since the commander returned. The training, jobs, diverse work, and continuous moves followed on from each other. Inspections were rife. There were rumours that the commander might soon leave for good. If only it could be true! On the other hand he did have his good side: he was an excellent strategist; he led and positioned the battery in a very skilful manner. He could be trusted. He was also very humane: he chased down several deserters only to put them back at their posts with a minimum of fuss. Unexpectedly, Valentin’s leave papers arrived: between the 10th and 24th of June he travelled via Calais and Folkestone to Deganwy in North Wales. On his return he visited his sister who was given a ‘free day’ to spend with her brother and show off with him in his military uniform. In London Valentin visited Mr Singer who received him royally: He insisted I stay with him. What a reception! His wife wasn’t at home and he had planned to eat out that evening. He gave me a chance to shower, and took me to a restaurant, the ‘Imperial’, one of the most chic in London! After the wonderful moments in Deganwy it was another party for the stomach! On the menu: sole, chicken, asparagus, champagne, fine liqueurs. After that we went to the theatre. When we got home, we talked and drank whisky until one o’clock. At that stage I was truly exhausted: I hadn’t slept the night before! He woke me at 4:30, and accompanied me to the station in a taxi to arrive in time to board the train to Folkestone. In Folkestone the train arrived late again and the boat had already left. Half of the population of Ostend seemed to be staying in Folkestone. It was inevitable that Valentin would bump into the Mayor of Ostend’s wife, Mrs. Alphonse Pieters and her daughter Mrs. Serruys. They too invited him for a meal. The fresh rumours from Ostend were eagerly exchanged: the Janssens ladies from Langestraat were regularly seen walking proudly with elegant German officers. Another fine lady from an honourable family had married a German major; the entrepreneur Henri Smis, owner of Thermae Palace Hotel on the promenade, was also carrying out major works for the German authorities; heavy cannons were being placed on the promenade. The same day Mrs Pieters wrote to Mrs Dewaele in Deganwy: 10, Manor Road Folkestone, June 25th 1916 Dear Madam, I had the pleasure of meeting your Valentin again today. I took him back to our house and he had supper with us. Then we drove him to his lodgings as his boat doesn’t leave until tomorrow. Valentin looked very well. My best wishes, Mrs A. Pieters Journal notes Tuesday June 27th 1916 Just back from leave. We have a new commander; he seems kind. All people speak of here is the coming offensive. That surprises me; just before I left, barely a week ago; there was no mention of it. I hope it comes soon, we all long to see our country, towns and people again. Journal notes Wednesday June 28th 1916 Went to the repositioned battery. The point? Passing time. No, we’re not working our fingers to the bone. We barely have any tools. We break a saw, we borrow one and break that too, we half fix it and put it back, so we can’t be blamed. In the afternoon the commander comes to see how we are getting on, Lieutenant Carpel is with him. I don’t know how long he stayed to watch our activities, but the sweat was running down our foreheads. We signalled without hope to the lieutenant to leave and take his guest with him, but he only responded by winking and flashing us wicked smiles, the bugger. Training, theory, cleaning the wagons, the fatally boring barrack life, under the watchful eye of carping non-commissioned officers and a new lieutenant, fast tracked from within their ranks, promising! Voet is moaning at me constantly to write a letter to his girl. He always wants to answer on the day he gets the letter. But I don’t feel like it today, maybe tomorrow, or later. It is said that the English tested their gas, the wind shifted and three regiments died. Journal notes Tuesday July 4th 1916 Finally some nice sunshine after all that bad weather. Went for a swim in the canal. We are taking up a position in Nieuwpoort today, and our cannons are being spread out: one in Nieuwpoort, one on a raft in the canal and two on the regular stand. We will sleep next to them. The telephonists have already left. Tubbax and Lahaye promised to keep good sleeping spots for Snoeck and myself but Snoeck has to go to the front lines and I have to stay here so all the good spots on the farm will be taken. Hard luck! We are leaving at half eight in the evening with two cannons and four wagons of munitions. Luckily the break is over, they just pester you. At the front they leave you alone, so you long for action. Of course they do it on purpose. We arrive at 10 o’clock at night; it is not yet fully dark. We all hope we will never have to go back, only forward. News from the front seems promising. But that would be too good to be true! The battery we relieve is ready to go. Our guns are set up in a minimum of time, mainly because there is no mud. The shelters are solid, but not as spacious as in Diksmuide; we have bunks here. I had a nice sprung bed, but I’m passing it on to a comrade who is sick. I’ll get into the bottom bunk on the planks. There is no straw yet. We drew straws for the watch; I got the fourth, from 2:15 to 3:30. I visited Leonce and Mathieu, who are safe there in their hut. I wanted to go for a swim in the canal but apparently that’s not allowed. Will check tomorrow if it’s true. We are in a bare and desolate landscape, about 200m from Ramskapelle which is a pile of rubble. Diksmuide was greener and more pleasant. De Buck found a bed for us both; we brought it up, and carried the adjutant’s things to the brick-works where he is staying. Our sleeping quarters are too big, draughty and unprotected. We will die by the first bullet. We are looking for something better, along the lines of a pigsty, dirty but not stinking. In a nearby trench we found planks and iron mesh, another table on a farm and a bench on a loft along with some straw. Why didn’t the officers give us straw? Since Commander Gillot left there is a real air of ‘laisser aller’! According to the latest news we won’t be using the cannon placed on the raft, but a different one, near Nieuwpoort in the open air. Mosquitoes, Mud and Rotten Food Valentin sends an urgent letter to his mother asking for help against mosquitoes. July 7th 1916 My dear Mother, We are being eaten alive by flies and mosquitoes. Could you please send several fly catchers and some mosquito gauze as quickly as possible? Preferably a bag or sack made of gauze or light fabric to cover my head. They are driving me crazy, please hurry! The bugs are worse than the Germans! Forgive this messy bit of paper; there isn’t a decent scrap to be found anywhere; someone has gone to look for paper and envelopes in Veurne. Many kisses, Valentin An offensive was underway. Every day was greeted and accompanied by the sound of gunfire. The rain was continuous and the mud nearly insurmountable. The front moved ahead at a crawl. When the food didn’t arrive, the troops were given potato salad and roast pork by their French neighbours now alongside them at the front. When the food finally did arrive it consisted of rotten potatoes and soup that tasted of washing-up water. Then the French taught them ‘On ne s’en fait pas’ which was greeted by general amusement. Morale was dropping due to the bad and irregular meals. Valentin wrote “Many thanks, Monsieur le Ministre de l’Intendance! And what’s Queen Elizabeth doing, she who, the papers say, is so concerned for her dear soldiers???” On July 24th the fly catchers and mosquito gauze arrived safely. “You can send more fly catchers”, wrote Valentin “one of them is already black with flies. Was the gauze really that expensive? There is too much of it, a quarter of the amount would have been plenty.” The potatoes may have been foul and the soup rank, but the summer of 1916 was still pleasant enough. There was a rural shop about ten minutes away, but other than that there were no civilians left in the area. Mother Nature had reclaimed the land; there were thousands of birds everywhere and, of course, flies and mosquitoes. The sun was bright and the soldiers lay baking in the summer heat. Valentin ended some of his letters with “I’ll stop now; I have to go and fire some more shells across to the other side!” A few days later he wrote “The sector is generally very quiet. We are surrounded by nothing but orchards, gardens and meadows.” Journal notes Saturday July 9th 1916 Gorgeous weather and there’s nothing to do. Unfortunately around 11:00 a swarm of German planes started circling above us. From 14:00 there was heavy fire, continuing on for the entire afternoon. The noise is deafening. Apparently they are 270s. Journal notes Wednesday July 12th 1916 I went to the dentist to have my second tooth done. It was extremely painful. Yesterday the brick works were bombed. The day before yesterday the Russian minister was here; I happened to be on duty; we fired a few rounds and they all missed...! The others are at the front line, near Nieuwpoort, to build a defensive shelter. Journal notes Thursday July 13th 1916 We are two steps from the front but you’d never think it. We haven’t heard a single shot today. To kill time we tinker with our bed which is slowly starting to resemble the real thing. Dreary weather, nothing to do and bad news if you read between the lines in the paper. There is always talk of offensives but the Germans are putting up a formidable resistance. I don’t think we’ll get anywhere this year. It will be for 1917. Nice outlook... Journal notes Friday July 14th 1916 I have to go to the forward line. That means getting up at 6:00. What a disaster! The gun is set up in a tent, right in the mud... absolutely miserable! Our predecessors have made a pigsty of it. At 10:30 we have to calibrate the gun on La Violette farm, followed by three rounds on Textile farm at 13:00. Orders from the commander: convert the shelter. We will start tomorrow. No rain today; a miracle! Journal notes Saturday July 15th 1916 Terrible night: three randomly assigned men squeezed into one small bed, unable to move a muscle. My face is red and swollen from the mosquito bites. Trip to the dentist in the afternoon, only to be kept waiting until half past four and then told there was no more time for us today. Met several pals at the echelon Command line behind the front, drank beer and ate potatoes together. We hadn’t seen each other in weeks. De Buck and I left at 20:00 and arrived in Bethlehem farm at 21:30. Journal notes Sunday July 16th 1916 Back to the dentist where we almost got sent home again, but we insisted and said we came all the way from Nieuwpoort, a slight exaggeration but well... The nerve is gone so I got through it with a minimum of pain. The commander went in after me but the rest of the lads were sent home and told to come back tomorrow. At 17:00 I got butter, oil and vinegar and picked some lettuce from a vegetable garden that the soldiers of the 5th have made. It became a nice salad with vinaigrette. Journal notes Tuesday July 18th 1916 We are behind the cemetery just to the right of the town. Today I’m an assistant brick-layer. Our task is to build a bunker for our gun which up until now is still in a tent. The first task is to collect a cartload of bricks. In this sector everything is made of bricks, even the labyrinth of the trenches. We stopped at 15:00, as there was no more mortar. The major keeps us working, moving grit and emptying the carts. Now at 22:30 we are still trudging back and forth from Nieuwpoort to our gun with wheelbarrows of sand. I’m on duty from 23:00 until 01:00. I’m writing by moonlight and the mosquitoes are buzzing around my head. Journal notes Wednesday July 19th 1916 Woke up at 12:30 and was given soup by the French. It was just gorgeous; as good as it is at home! A few of us walked to within 500 metres of the trenches which is madness since the Germans can see us. The terrain is flat and completely open, no cover at all! Journal notes Thursday July 20th 1916 My turn to collect the food; about half an hour from here. I don’t know the password since nobody came by last night. After a long argument I finally got past the sentries. I ate too much of the French soup. I finished the pot... it was a shame to let it go to waste, now as a result I’m sick as a dog. I went and picked berries for sauce anyway. I risked another trip to the trenches, and then climbed a tree to see if I could see Ostend, but I couldn’t see past Middelkerke. There was an artillery duel underway, the shells screamed overhead. There are hordes of planes today; our soldiers are firing at them. You’re constantly at risk of getting your own share of the shrapnel. Journal notes Friday July 21st 1916 Hellish noise during the night created by a passing German plane, followed by an inferno over towards De Panne. The sky was glowing red. Only got up at 08:00 because it’s our National Holiday. This evening I will eat salmon, lettuce, potatoes and berries. Our army menu is pathetic. On the 14th of July the French get a nice menu and champagne. Rumour has it we will at least be getting some tobacco or cigarettes. Journal notes Saturday July 22nd 1916 Afternoon on horseback. Post arrived with the mosquito nets, thank God. I have a face like a swollen tomato. Journal notes Sunday July 30th 1916 Spent the night on the sentry post known as Kiny. Bad luck today: I went out fishing on the canal with a paddle boat and a homemade net. The boat sank, and me with it. I’m lying on my bed naked while my clothes dry. Journal notes Tuesday August 1st 1916 My clothes were dry around noon. Went to Nieuwpoort towards evening with Sergeant-Major Dewit to take pictures. Nieuwpoort is a disaster, not a house left standing. I walked to the locks, where the road to Ostend takes a turn. That was right alongside the trenches. Journal notes Thursday August 3rd 1916 The brick works were bombed. The chimney was hit halfway up and our scouts can’t climb it anymore. The canteen is flattened and so is the soup kitchen. We are now living on our reserve rations. A horse was also killed; the meat was sold to a local butcher in Wulpen. Journal notes Friday August 4th 1916 Gastronomic week: we catch fish, fry it and trawl the vegetable gardens in search of carrots and lettuce. August 6th 1916 Dearest Mother This is the best time I’ve had since I’ve been in the army. The service isn’t too hard and I enjoy a lot of freedom. That is the most valuable thing in life! We actually bought a frying pan and set ourselves up so we can eat well. I go fishing and if I catch something it goes into the pan. I didn’t realise fishing was so much fun. In the vegetable garden nearby I often find lettuce and carrots, and at the moment the berries are ripe so we can make sauce. I get apples from the orchard and make apple sauce. What we can’t find here we look for further down the line. We’ve become real poachers! Of course you know how much time it takes: peeling, lighting a fire, shopping, picking fruit and washing up, but it helps pass the time. I had pictures taken of myself beside my gun in Nieuwpoort, but I’m not allowed to post them! Our guns are somewhat spread out. Occasionally we have to fire a few shells to the other side, sometimes during the day and other times at night. We don’t complain when we have to get up; the smell of gunpowder gives us thrills of pleasure, especially when we think we could finish off a few more Germans. There are bad days too, of course, especially when we have to mix concrete for new bunkers. Those are the days I have dark thoughts, but it usually doesn’t last long. I made a sketch of how I see Ostend from here. I climb a tree and can see the town so clearly! I feel like shouting ‘Uncle Emile! Climb up on your roof so that I can see you.’ Really! I would be able to see him! The guys are asking if you could send a picture of Edith Cavell in colour or black and white. Oh yes, I almost forgot, could you send me another 100 francs? Up until now I have only spent 60 francs of the money I had when I left you. You don’t spend much here because there’s nothing to spend it on. The money disappears quickly when you are on leave though, especially if you’re buying a few rounds for your friends... I promise, I’ll be thrifty! All right, I’ll look for a dream prince for the young ladies of Deganwy. Unfortunately the chaps I know are almost all engaged. You were right to travel to London to buy cloth and curtains in Debenhams to replace those rags in the drawing room. No, no, you’re not being foolish, and if you can pay for everything after the war it’s definitely not a problem. So there was real ‘laisser-aller’ at Debenhams? The girls reading, giggling, eating sweets and showing off nice blouses? What does Mr. Vanden Eynde think of that, he who is used to working in such an orderly company? But as you said, there’s a war on and the English girls don’t like to work too hard! I am sending a picture of Ieper (Ypres) for Aunt Eudoxie and another of the village where I am stationed. To all and to you my dearest kisses, Valentin Highs and Lows Journal notes Monday August 7th 1916 On duty at the camouflaged gun today. Fired a few rounds in the afternoon; the brigade does the same, but the response from the other side is powerful and immediate. During the night all units in the sector fired together, an amazing sight but unfortunately short of the target. Journal notes Tuesday August 8th 1916 Working on the observation post, Kiny, this evening. I climbed up but it was too late and I couldn’t see anything. Journal notes Thursday August 10th 1916 Dentist this morning. Next appointment: the 18th. No end in sight! We have to spend the night at the section nearby. We will probably fire sometime during the night. Fragments of overheard conversation and certain preparations hint at a planned offensive in the area of Ieper (Ypres) and Boezinge. Or is it all just a rumour? Journal notes Wednesday August 16th 1916 I arrived at the camouflaged gun this morning for duty and discovered to my disappointment and dismay that the Germans had fired 7 shells which impacted in the immediate vicinity. Have they located our artillery units though they are very well hidden? If so, it will be a disaster, because without a proper bunker there will be accidents! The men had to fill the craters straight away during the night, immediately after being fired on. We moved the floating gun; it is now about level with our gun. Despite being on duty our battery didn’t have to fire a single round; finally in the evening we fired off twelve rounds in rapid succession. Journal notes Thursday August 17th 1916 I came back to the command line (echelon) only to see that my name was on the list for the group that had to go to work in the section... what? Just off duty and straight back to work? Too tedious, and bad for my health, so I won’t go. I made stewed fruit instead and was bored for the rest of the day. Journal notes Friday August 18th 1916 Walked through the pouring rain to the dentist where I met Maurice Lejour. There was a lot of activity yesterday and today; genuinely satisfying to hear! The 120mm guns were put to work and the artillery piece behind the farm, at 600 metres, kept on firing despite the ruthless German response. There was even an explosion of shrapnel above the farm. Luckily nobody was fishing on that side. September 2nd 1916 My dearest Mother, We worked hard. I folded my tent and now sleep in a concrete bunker beside my gun. I must tell you that the Germans are barely 800 metres from here and that their bullets reach us. I’m afraid we’re facing another winter of war. I’m getting fed up with it: pointless training all day long, working, inspections and a thousand other absurdities that are so typical of the army. All you can do is suffer in silence. You’re a slave, grow stupid and become dull. And that lieutenant of ours! Always smiling, showing off his nice teeth. If we were to advance I really wouldn’t be comfortable under his command. Luckily, we are safely mired in place. He doesn’t give a damn about his men, never asks how the situation stands with the food. No, there’s not much in that head of his. Apparently he’s leaving soon; I won’t be sad to see him go! I’ll go wild with joy the day that I regain my freedom. I can barely remember what it was like to be free and do what I wanted. That joyful time is long gone. Mother, I need a few bits and pieces again. The guns make so much noise, they can make you deaf. Do you remember we saw earplugs in London, in the Co-op on Victoria Street? I really need those. Some blotting paper too; I have to dry my letters against the candle flame and they often catch fire. Send me some of that red disinfectant soap we used in Deganwy to clean the toilets, it’s ideal for washing your face here! Don’t laugh, it is! My watch is broken too; I’ll try to get it repaired in De Panne. Could you order one from Uncle Pierre? One of those for 20 francs? They charge 5 or 6 francs here but they are rubbish. Dear Mother, please don’t worry about the front, we’re advancing very slowly but we are advancing! As long as I don’t get eaten by rats. Last night I was on sentry duty, I was half asleep against my shelter when I suddenly felt something chewing on my cotton trousers. I gave a mighty kick and a huge rat fell on my foot! What a fright! I might come over on leave in two months time. 2% of the men can be on leave at one time and since there are 150 in the battery, that’s three people at a time. Hug aunt, and my cousins for me. I send you lots of kisses, Valentin The last three months of 1916 were difficult. Valentin’s mother witnessed the arrival of the wounded at Victoria station and it affected her greatly, causing a deep depression. There was little news that was good from Ostend and Gent. The post was unreliable and letters were also frequently lost. The food at the front was deplorable. Those soldiers who were forced to live on their pay alone were going hungry. The price of food and small luxuries like chocolate was rising. Milk was 0.25 francs per litre, butter 1.60 francs per kilo, two eggs were 0.45 francs and chocolate cost 0.15 francs per bar. Luckily the earplugs had arrived: voices were clearly audible but the sound of the cannon was muted. Life continued in isolation for the soldiers, no one knew the time or date, Valentin’s watch was broken and there were no newspapers. All of this meant that he was forced to ask around and make calculations based on distant points of reference, simply to have an idea of where he was in time. The commander was more concerned for his horses than his men. Any news that was getting through was of the death of comrades: De Poest jumped from his captive balloon when it was shot down by a German pilot. Both the balloon and his parachute caught fire. Daniel Vercamer’s brother had also died. However, some good news did come through. Valentin’s good friend, Maurice Lejour had advanced to the post of junior officer and was earning 560 francs per month, enough to send some money home. There was a chance that he would be able to help another friend, Henri Van Graefschepe, out of the trenches and into the artillery. At the end of October the men were finally given a second blanket, though it was of such inferior quality that it barely made a difference. Valentin enjoyed a short break when he was asked to act as a messenger for four days. This involved bringing papers to the captain or major for signing; no work or duty just wonderful trips on horseback. He used the free time to catch up with his English correspondence. After several days four telephonists took his place, ending the fun. Back to harassment and seemingly endless duty: the food was still bad, they slept in an overcrowded stable, and were exhausted and demoralised by the end of each day. There was a shortage of tables in the mess hall which made it difficult to eat or write. It was always dark and even candles were not allowed (‘the enemy is watching’); everything was done by the light of a few weak lamps. Another welcome break in the drudgery of front line life came when the commander went on leave for 8 days. The lieutenant who stepped in as a replacement was a breath of fresh air, finally showing some humanity and an appreciation of the men. Valentin was finally granted leave between November 26th and December 5th. On his way back to the front he once again missed the boat in Folkestone, allowing him instead to meet several old acquaintances and fellow residents of Ostend, including Jean-Pierre De Ridder and Van Landschoote from the Sint-Petersburgstraat, Aspeslag, Deweert and the Boens brothers, who were both shoemakers. Having just returned to the front Valentin writes that his morale has hit rock bottom. December 7th 1916 My dearest Mother, Here I am again living like a poor wretch: terrible quarters, horribly bad food, and worst of all I missed a chance to get a post as telephonist while I was on leave in Deganwy. Talk about bad luck! My morale has never been so low. And now we’re back to pouring concrete, carrying bricks back and forth and other jolly activities. What a joyful place this is. Such a contrast with the week I spent with you all in Deganwy! When I think of all the delicious treats my Aunt Sugar-marzipan prepared for me... I know this depression will pass in time. Meanwhile, I am back here in the rain and the cold messing about in the mud. I’m sick of all of this mud all the time! And such terrible quarters! When we look out we can see nothing but ruins. They say that we might go back to France in a month’s time for English manoeuvres... whatever those are. Anyway, it’s probably all rumours as usual. As far as I’m concerned the war can end right now, under any terms. Nothing matters to me anymore. Except for one thing: that you would allow René Van Haeck to spend his leave with you all in Deganwy. The poor guy has never been on leave, his family lives in occupied territory and he has no money. How can you save for a trip on the miserable pay that we get? Even over two months you can’t scrounge enough! René Van Haeck is a good friend, and a typical, friendly farmer. He can’t utter two words without saying ‘milledju’ “goddamn” in his own dialect. He doesn’t speak French, he is from Deinze and his parents are Flemish farmers. He eats like a horse. There is no point laying a napkin for him! But he is a great guy. He’s preparing in anticipation of this leave. Can I count on you all? Love, Valentin December 16th 1916 Dear Alice, How can you not be getting my letters? I write regularly, twice a week! Things are bad here at the moment, manning the artillery morning to night, food that might as well be pig swill, and it’s constantly cold and damp. Around us there is nothing but a landscape of ruins. No change in sight for the next three or four months either. It must surely be better in Liverpool, isn’t that right my little nurse? I forgot to tell you, we had a terrible hurricane pass through; half of P. has blown down. We won’t even have to break into the houses to gather wood, there’s plenty of wood spread across the streets! Alice, listen, Mother is always so depressed. Would you not go back to her in Deganwy? Or at least write her a comforting letter letting her know you will be careful and can look after yourself? Do be careful! A young girl like you can be influenced so easily! It’s true! I can tell you, you’re not a child anymore. Everything a man tells you is a lie. They are all monsters, both young and old! I know what I’m talking about. That’s why I’m not happy about this stay in Liverpool, and neither is mother. We were given a small wallet for Christmas, depicting Albert and Elizabeth... Please stop asking where we are. We’re not allowed to tell; the censor is strict. Many kisses from your brother, Valentin Valentin also received a letter informing him that Henri Van Graefschepe had been on leave in Deganwy and was in possession of all the items he had requested: a battery, a fountain pen, a pipe, tobacco, a newspaper and pictures. Unfortunately, Henri was stationed an hour from Valentin’s battery and try as he might Valentin could not get permission to slip away for half a day. There were too few marksmen and gunners; they were maintaining continuous fire meaning that he could not leave his post. Valentin’s last letters approaching Christmas and the New Year tended towards the bitter: How I would love to be with you all for Christmas. This is the third time that we will have spent it in sadness and separation. As for me, I’m ‘celebrating’ Christmas in misery. I console myself by thinking of next year. If only this horrible war would end! Let’s try to believe that, despite the end being nowhere in sight. But anyway, we have to react; we have to have courage, hope and some more patience. Meanwhile my ‘big lad’ René Van Haeck is delighted that he can stay with you. Don’t forget to request a certificate of leave for him. At least I can end with two positive pieces of news. Yesterday a large parcel arrived from Mr. Singer in London. It was a blanket! What a blessing, I have three now! The second is that I spent an enjoyable evening with Maurice Lejour. He was on lone sentry duty at his battery. Together we broke open a nice bottle of Bourgogne... pure heaven! At least that way we honour Belgian customs and traditions which are a lot more important to me than the English ways. Cold, Hungry and Penniless 1917 brought the 4th year of war for Europe. Valentin would be given leave three times during the year, allowing him to travel to Deganwy to visit his mother, sister, aunt and cousins, and enjoy the chance to eat and snack to his heart’s content. Time spent at the front was followed by periods of rest and boredom behind the front. Throughout 1917 Valentin wrote eighty-five letters. His battery moved continuously: until the end of March in the Ramskapelle-Pervijze sector, from May until July in the Steenstrate-Sas van Boezinge sector and from November 1917 until February of 1918 in the Merkem sector. The food remained bad and the post unreliable. However Valentin was promoted to corporal, almost doubling his pay and reducing the time spent on physical labour. The promotion also brought increased responsibility with it. The news of his mother’s regular colds and bouts of bronchitis worried Valentin and to combat her seemingly depressed correspondence he returned more cheerful, encouraging letters. Friends from the early days of the war had achieved positions of responsibility as officers and were now spread across the front. Valentin found it difficult to relate to the bumpkins and Brussels street lads, also known as ‘ketjes’. In addition the cold, mud, fleas and the impression that nothing was advancing didn’t lead to optimism and resulted in waves of total discouragement and a lower morale amongst the soldiers. “Send the Daily Mail”, he wrote, “if anything important happens”. Troop movements took place: Valentin’s unit was pulled back to Calais, and once again nobody knew why. They remained there for several weeks and Valentin felt useless and considered himself to be a shirker or ‘embusqué’ as it was called there. He was safe in Calais but useless and the plaything of officers, a victim of bureaucracy and regulations. The time in Calais was followed by another period at the front where there was a lot more freedom but still too little food and not enough cash. Valentin’s letters don’t give the impression that war is a dangerous activity. He never mentions ‘shooting’ but rather discusses ‘hard work’. It is obvious that he was sparing his mother as much as possible. He softens the information or holds back everything. In any case censorship at the time did not allow for details of life at the front to be written in casual letters. At one point there was talk that soldiers would be issued with pre-printed cards containing sentences or phrases which could be underlined or crossed out. They were even issued with a long list of topics about which they could not write on punishment or destruction of the letter. The notes written in Valentin’s journal give a far more accurate representation of events than the correspondence with his family. January 3rd 1917 Dear Mother, Many thanks for the letters I have received. They bring me so much joy! So René De Vleeschouwer is with you in Deganwy? He is luckier than I am, although I have to admit that New Years Eve was a sight more enjoyable than Christmas. A group of us organised a party. We went to the kitchen and asked if we could take away our ration of meat for the following day early so that we could prepare it ourselves. We bought vegetables and twelve bottles of wine, and then each of us placed on the table whatever food we had been sent for the holidays. This was the menu: richly flavoured stock soup (a gift from Mr. Singer in London), steak, butter sauce from America, peas with bacon and plenty of bread. To go with it, a white wine, ‘Graves 1908’. For dessert we served Dutch rusks, raisins, mandarins, dates and toffee (also sent by Mr. Singer). At 23:00 the cigars and spiced wine appeared on the table, at this stage it was midnight for the Germans. We celebrated until one in the morning and had enormous fun; that is until the bill arrived the next morning: 5.50 francs per person. What a disaster but I still feel it was worth it. Mother, you keep saying I don’t read the letters that you send thoroughly enough! Nothing could be further from the truth! It’s true we have a lot of work and not much time, but I do read your letters, over and over! I’ve noticed that you seem depressed again. That’s not good! You must stay calm and in control. Next time I’m on leave I want to be able to embrace a happy, optimistic mother. I was thinking: why don’t you move to London? It’s true, Deganwy is too quiet for you, you’re always surrounded by the same few people and there is nothing to buy or do. London would be entirely different! Do think about it. You asked for more detail about my friend Van Haeck. As I wrote before, he is a good man and for him it’s a unique opportunity to sleep in a good bed, enjoy a nice meal, drink a glass of beer or whisky or go to the cinema. He has never been on leave, he has no one! He understands French, but doesn’t speak it and he doesn’t understand English. Oh, I forgot to tell you we held a celebration for our 4th Brigade in Wulpen. There were artists from Paris; I had such a great time. On the way back we called at every watering hole in the place and still arrived back in one piece! Many kisses to the whole family. Sorry I have no time to read over my letter! Valentin January 27th 1917 My dearest Mother Did I really forget to thank you for the money you sent me at New Year? That’s unforgivable; a thousand apologies! I was sure I had written to you about that. So I say a heartfelt thank you. What would I do without you? The things you send help me endure the dire situation and conditions we’ve lived in for the past two years. You know I like to spoil my stomach! Everything goes towards food: butter, jam, chocolate, oranges and occasionally cream. I can’t imagine how I would carry on if I had to live on what they chuck at us here...! For lunch, hot water with a lump of fat in it and in the evening a miserable ration of potatoes and sometimes a small piece of meat. Luckily we have good bread. That’s how we survive. I pity the men who have to live on their meagre pay alone. What can you do with 2.50 francs a day, especially when fines are deducted from that as penalties! I live so sparingly that I haven’t even touched the money you sent, and I even have 10 francs left over from the money you gave me when we were together in Deganwy. So... anyway, what would you spend it on here? There is nothing for miles around. You really only need money when you are on leave away from the front. I heard that we won’t be able to travel free anymore in France and England and that we will have to pay our own way once we are past London. There has been a calm period but we are back in full swing now. We were congratulated on our rapid response to enemy fire. What do you think of that? You will read about it in the reports. Genuinely playing at war once in a while really gives heart and boosts morale! It is very cold here now, snow and frost. Luckily wood is easy to find in the forest here, we need only go out and cut it. If only I had skates, they’d all see something then! I’m sitting here in my bed writing to you, I should really stop now as it’s far too cold. I’m so glad Carlos was accepted by King’s College in London. It is great that Alice is in Liverpool for her Red Cross nurse training. It’s natural that you are lonely while everyone is away, but chances are that the war will end this year! Stay strong! At least until I get there on my next leave! Many kisses, Valentin Journal notes January 29th 1917 At 23:00 we are given the order to open covering fire. In the blink of an eye we are outside in the freezing night air firing at will. All the batteries firing at once, what an explosion of sound! Our gun fired 55 shells, the others only 43. At the start we were too excited and the work was chaotic. We haven’t had enough training, the work wasn’t automatic and our reflexes are too slow. On top of that the battery was badly organised; we had no light. The reason? The batteries for the lamps were with the commander... Journal notes January 31st 1917 At 22:00 there is a fresh alarm: heavy bombardments by the Germans from the trenches to the right. It is not our sector but we return fire. Before long we are targeted by the enemy, driving us to new efforts. I am not acting as gunner today. The task was given to a corporal; obviously if you have an extra stripe you are more intelligent and more capable! That’s just the way it is in the army. As soon as we fire we run to our concrete bunkers since we would like to live a little longer and the Germans aim well. There are explosions all around us and there is no point in letting yourself be mown down out here. At 01:00 silence descends, but at 05:30 we are shaken out of our sleep by a fresh assault, and so respond in kind. An hour later everything is quiet again and we eventually crawl back under our blankets. February 14th 1917 My dear Mother, Once again it has been a while since I have written to you, too long! I really don’t know why, I just don’t seem to get to the point where I can write regularly anymore. There is either too much work, there is no room at the table or it’s too cold in bed. Sometimes I just don’t feel up to it. You see life here is so monotonous and lazy that you just become weak and lifeless. When you’re in this state and actually have to do something it is with the greatest reluctance. You can’t even imagine it; you literally have to drag yourself along! So we take it easy and slow, the English way. At the end of the day, why would you bother trying to hurry anyway? As soon as something is finished they find something else to do. Occasionally it actually needs to be done but usually it’s pointless. Just to let you know René Van Haeck never left. He was ready, had his pass, everything was in order... then they told us that all leave to England was cancelled. The poor guy, I’ve never seen anyone so disappointed. They are calling me, I have to go. Hugs to you, aunt and the children. Valentin February 19th 1917 Dearest Mother. Heartfelt thanks for the birthday wishes. I had almost forgotten I had reached 22! The smoked meat was gorgeous! René Van Haeck did finally manage to get away. He should be with you now. Did he get through England easily enough without being able to speak a word of English? We are quartered incredibly badly at the moment. One section is almost bearable, but in the other there are twelve of us crammed into a room with no air or light. Even my three blankets cannot keep me warm. We swap rooms so that we all get a chance to sleep in the slightly better room at some point. I met Norbert Asseloos. He is in the 60th Battery, next to mine, working with Maurice Lejour as a signaller - a brilliant post. We fire at aircraft now, that is, if we see them in time. René Van Haeck will have told you about it. I imagine the German pilots laugh themselves silly when we fire at them, we always miss by miles! At the end of March I will be on leave. On March 24th we are going to the so called ‘big city’ for some rest! Money will pour through my fingers once again! I haven’t seen a glass of beer in 3 months! Don’t blame me for being wasteful! Or for not writing enough: we had to move our battery a few times; it’s total commotion and pandemonium. I think of you all often, and especially you, Valentin Always on the Move The 4th Army Division spent March-April 1917 away from the front. Valentin spent this rest period in De Panne, which he refers to as ‘the big city’. Once back in action the division occupied the Steenstrate – Sas van Boezinge sector. March 31st 1917 My dearest Mother, What paradise it is in ‘the big city’! Finally, I can write to you properly, there are reading rooms, there are even writing tables and everything is heated well. We won’t be able to stay here long, but I guess that’s just the way it is when you’re in paradise. Even here we are badly quartered again, squashed into a dark, leaking attic with draughts everywhere, so I rented a room in town for a few days at the very reasonable price of 0.25 francs per day with sheets, laundry, water and cleaning included. If that’s not reasonable then I don’t know what is. I can finally sleep in a decent bed again, without worrying that I will be late back, I ‘m escaping a bunch of chores and I can eat in peace. All this with full permission from the commander! I have been to visit Mrs. Van Houtte twice. She treated me to a meal and even invited me to stay there, but unfortunately her house is too far from where we are stationed. That’s about all I have to tell you at the moment. It always seems to be that way when my next leave approaches. How I long for our reunion! Do you think I will still recognize André and Carlos after our two year separation? I am impatient to hold you all in my arms again! Very many kisses, Valentin Journal notes Sunday April 1st 1917 At five o’clock this evening they came to me here in De Panne and told me that my leave permit had been withheld three days earlier by mistake: the boss had forgotten to pass it on. April fools? I left the same evening. Journal notes Sunday April 15th 1917 On my return journey from Wales I lost a day in Folkestone and a day in Calais due to bad connections. I’m scarcely back in De Panne and am already on sentry duty this afternoon. The 3rd Rangers are here; I looked for and found Raymond Brant. The weather is awful. We are bored to death sitting around here in the dunes. We have to hand in one of our blankets. Individual tents are being set up. Journal notes Saturday April 21st 1917 Sixty men from our company have to go to Boezinge. Ten of them will be taken from our battery. What’s it all about? We have no idea. It could be so that they can erect barracks to rectify the lack of quarters when we arrive there later. We don’t know when the order will come for us to pull out. I will be on sentry duty along the coast for the next three days. Journal notes Sunday April 22nd 1917 We were shaken out of bed by a dreadful bombardment in the direction of Nieuwpoort. A short time later we found out that the Germans had launched an attack using poison gas. It was smelled as far out as Veurne where a lot of people became ill. Journal notes Monday April 23rd 1917 The Germans launched further gas attacks in Diksmuide and Boezinge. I have been relieved and can go back to the barracks. On arrival I realize my staff card has disappeared. How annoying! We are told we will be here for a few more days. The attack won’t be anytime soon. Journal notes Sunday April 30th 1917 I have to take De Neve’s position as a scout in Boezinge. I get onto the train in De Panne at 09:00, get to Oostvleteren by 12:00 and an hour and a half later it struggles to Woesten in fits and starts. Tonight I have to climb the tower at Woesten and have to source the artillery fire from 02:00 till 05:30. The balloon scouts climb the tower during the day. Journal notes Monday May 1st 1917 I could get used to it here; luckily it’s a good post and easy service. There are two men from the 6th Army Division here to help us get to know the sector. The village is partly destroyed, but a few shopkeepers stayed and they are doing good business. Gorgeous weather but during the evening there was another gas alarm. There is an amazing battle taking place in the sky between two German and four English planes. Result: two German and two English planes shot out of the sky. Gas alarm again during the night while I was on watch. I put on my mask but thankfully the gas didn’t get this far. Journal notes Thursday May 4th 1917 I was given orders to present myself to the English at the defensive line in Vlamertinge. They gave me a pass. May 4th 1917 Dearest Mother, We are continuously on the move. We spent some time where René De Vleeschouwer was and then moved on to where Mrs De Cock was born Describing places through people or events was a convenient way of avoiding the censor.. We have settled comfortably here, it’s quiet and the weather is nice. Unfortunately my pipe has broken, and to add catastrophe to disaster someone stole my soap box, tobacco, comb, toothbrush and toothpaste. Everything is very expensive here. We are located next to the English troops and are just down the road from the village where you were born. I have an afternoon and evening beer there. The village is packed with English-speaking troops. We were told this would be our home for the next four weeks. There are four of us - far from everything and everyone, apparently forgotten and lost but happy. There are no mobile canteens but we cook together and have already ruined a rice pudding - 1.35 francs down the drain. We are living ‘hors-ménage’, which means we are given 1.54 francs per person per day and have to buy and prepare our own food and make our own arrangements. 6.16 francs per day just isn’t enough. They claim that in about ten days time the money which we get will increase to 2.29 francs per person per day. If that is true we will be living in luxury! Forgive me for saying it but your fellow villagers are mean and greedy, even in their dealings with poor Belgian soldiers! Other than that it really is paradise here! Right next to a partly bombed farmhouse, among the fields and trees, beside a lake we can jump into if it’s too warm. Here the long winter seems far away and almost forgotten! And no officers around! Now that we are cooking for ourselves, could you send us a few simple recipes that we can easily prepare? We have four mess-tins, an enamel pot which we use to cook potatoes and wash up in afterwards and even a pot lid which serves as a frying pan. Due to our meagre means there is a lot of calculation involved when we buy our ingredients. Sometimes we have to walk quite far to get what we want or need. On top of that there is always the question, ‘what will we eat tonight?’ or ‘tomorrow?’. We have made progress; in the beginning everything was too salty, too sweet or burnt. If we stay here another few weeks we may even become experienced cooks. Please don’t forget to send me those two rolls of film. I’m still waiting for them. Stay strong and look after yourself. Let me know how the vegetable garden, potatoes, onions, etc, at the back are doing. Valentin Valentin (with pipe) at his quarters Journal notes Saturday May 6th 1917 There are two squads of 8 men each on watch for two days out of four. We visited the English soldiers to buy a few supplies; after long negotiations and a thorough search we came out of the battle with five pots of jam and three candles. Tonight we are having steak and potatoes. Journal notes Sunday May 7th 1917 We were fired upon all night. We had to get up and run twice. This morning we established that the shells fell to the right of the farm, about one hundred meters out. If I had known I would have stayed in bed, but the explosions were so fierce we were convinced it was all much closer. My watch post is in a tree, about 25 meters high, in a small shack made of branches and leaves. The tree sways back and forth in the wind, almost making me seasick. Journal notes Monday May 8th 1917 No letters from home. The phone lines are regularly shot down. We are staying in a large farmhouse. We go out and buy supplies every two days. Journal Notes Sunday May 13th 1917 I went to Poperinge with Mathieu Lahaye. The town is under British command and has been almost half destroyed by multiple bombardments, but we still managed to have fun. We saw a regiment of English troops departing for the trenches; they were led by a group of pipers, drums and a huge drum playing some sort of funny music. The English rarely have any nice horses here. Shopkeepers are very willing to give us Belgians discounts. The better restaurants are all reserved for officers; this wouldn’t be the case if the place was under our control. Journal notes Wednesday May 16th 1917 The English troops asked if they could stay at our farm. Their base was destroyed. We agreed; their captain and lieutenant seem like decent types. Journal notes Friday May 18th 1917 We are managing with our ‘hors-ménage’ but it’s not easy. Today we bartered with the English and traded 4 kilos of flour for 11 cans of meat, 4 cans of beans, a piece of cheese and half a pot of mustard. Journal notes Saturday May 26th 1917 Our English guests suddenly leave. We prefer it that way with some peace and quiet. Time to look for leftovers and bargains. Their cook gave us a piece of lard, five slices of bacon and a pile of candles. Unfortunately they aren’t going far enough to give everything away. Their battery is heading to Ieper (Ypres). Tom Duren will be in hospital for a few days. We are on a four hour watch now, which is quite a lot. We found a dog and called him Jack, he is a nice fox-terrier. Journal notes Monday May 28th 1917 We went for a walk to the English sector nearby, got lost and came out 500 meters from Ieper (Ypres). It rained shells; we ran through the fields like greyhounds. What a nightmare! At least I still succeeded in getting 4 pots of jam for 0.20 francs each. Suddenly we were arrested as deserters. Finally they let us go with an apology. Amazing how suspicious the English are! Maybe they are right to be. Journal notes Tuesday May 29th 1917 Went for a walk in Poperinge with Alfred Snoeck. Had a great time and arrived back exhausted. Tom Duren is back from the hospital. Watch is miserable now, it’s no longer interesting. The Germans hardly fire at all, while the English give them the full load. Looks like an offensive from that side! They are gathering reinforcements and laying railway tracks in all directions. Journal notes Sunday June 3rd 1917 Our squad has been disbanded. We have all been told to return to our batteries. No transport arranged so it looks as if we have to make do and get there ourselves. The English have taken over Nieuwpoort and are replacing us in Boezinge as well. Journal notes Wednesday June 27th 1917 Back to the battery, serving as telephonist in place of De Buck. Poor Dhaems is dead; shell shrapnel in the head. Our artillery is bearing terrible losses; this is a bad sector. The Germans are letting their batteries do the talking; they can feel the offensive coming. Journal notes Monday July 2nd 1917 We fired constantly for several full nights. Left Boezinge yesterday evening as the French are replacing us. We are going for a break and are travelling through Warhem between Hondschoote and Bergues in France and Loon-Plage where we will sleep in tents until we eventually end up in Marck. We have arrived and are far from the village and about an hour from Calais. Had the first new potatoes of the year. What a relief to be away from the hell that was our previous sector. Our mobile gun was almost destroyed; a shell landed two metres from it on a tent but it didn’t detonate... A trip was made with Daniel Vercamer (the brother of Maria, the sales woman in Ostend) to his parents in Wulveringem to mourn the loss of their son and his brother Julien. Valentin also met Godeau from Muscarstraat, young Borrey and Louis De Wynter whose mother and sister also lived in England while his father stayed in Ostend. Fritz De Goeyse, an old school-friend from ‘Lycée d’Anvers’ was a welcome distraction for a day of old school tales and jokes. Michel Legray who was now an adjutant had received news from his father in Ostend: the head of their old high school ‘Atheneum’ had retired and been replaced by Bogaerts. In honour of his new promotion to corporal Valentin received no less than 14 letters of congratulation from Deganwy. He wrote “The English would probably say it was a waste of paper and not patriotic” and assumed that the facetious student Carlos had written them all, each in a different script. “Ideal spare toilet paper; my heartfelt thanks!” And so the spring and summer days of 1917 passed. In response to his request for recipe ideas Valentin’s mother sent an entire collection of prints and cuttings depicting stuffed turkeys and partridges covered in rich sauces. The days alternated between action with the gun at the front, time spent at the command line, in sour-smelling stables and time spent off duty behind the lines. While off duty he wrote, “Here I am again, far from the front, to the delight of my mother, like a real embusqué (shirker)”. He was sent money, but couldn’t exchange it and so was forced to send it back. At the end of July Valentin was in Calais, the beginning of August was spent in Deganwy, followed by another period spent back in Calais where he happened to meet his old commander with a chest full of decorations. “Good for him” he noted. Less pleasant was the news that the ordinary citizens would soon be under German orders to leave Ostend. On September 5th 1917 Valentin took up position as corporal in a different battery within the same regiment. The change was not easy; it was hard to leave the friends and officers he knew so well in his old battery. In his letters he refers to his new colleagues as bumpkins and rascals. Hence forth his new address would be: D 213 (regimental code number), 2nd Company, 1st Battery. The daily routine was as follows: 07:00 get up, have breakfast and wash. 09:00 read, smoke and write letters. 12:00 have lunch, take a nap, have a beer, get the paper and read it stretched out on the straw. 17:00 peel potatoes and have dinner. 19:00 go to the café or for a walk. 22 or 23:00 go to sleep. This period gave Valentin an opportunity to meet up with friends and acquaintances. He visited his Aunt Honorine and her old mother ‘Mette’ who both seemed to be getting through the war quite well. More News from Ostend L’Indépendance Belge Ostend 1917 The situation is quickly becoming unbearable for the citizens of Ostend. Arrests are commonplace. The following is an incomplete list: Mr. Elleboudt and Mr. Verbeeck, editors of ‘Le Littoral’ and ‘L’Echo d’Ostende’, who had been ordered to continue publishing, but under censorship of the German government and had refused to do so, had been given three and two month jail sentences respectively. Bisschoppelijk College Catholic high school, Keizerskaai has become a hospital for German typhus patients. In the meantime classes had been transferred to the primary school Klein College in Euphrosina Beernaertstraat. The Reverend Desmet, principal of the school, was arrested for punishing a student who happened to be the son of a German officer. He was sentenced to a fourteen-day jail term and a fine of 200 marks. Mr. Deramont, a confectioner located on Vlaanderenramp, across from Koninklijke Schouwburg Royal Theatre was jailed for eight days because he forgot to put a muzzle on his dog. Mr. Van Keyserswert, secretary of the Kursaal Casino was locked up for eight days when he was found outdoors barely one hour after curfew. For the most part the citizens try to ignore the Germans but there are exceptions, such as the notorious building contractor who dared to say it would be fine if the Allies never did make it back to Ostend. Then there are the pork butcher from Wapenplein and the oysterman whose daughters can be seen parading around on horseback with monocle-wearing German officers. Recently, despite the strongest protests from her parents, the daughter of a prominent local family married a German major. The bride’s father, an architect, was unable to contain his rage and lashed out at the girl’s brother-in-law. It was not long before he too was arrested. The German major was transferred to Potsdam where he now lives with his new wife. The German officers are mostly quartered with families in Alfons Pieterslaan, Nieuwpoortse steenweg, Torhoutse Steenweg, Koninginnelaan, Rogierlaan, Hippodroomstraat and in the locality of the hospital. The host families usually live upstairs or in the attic while the German occupiers live downstairs. However there have been few complaints about the ‘guests’; they tend to behave themselves. The Kommandantur German headquarters has been established in the Atheneum Secondary school displacing all classes down to the junior school. German officers have taken up residence in the grander houses on Kaaistraat, Serruyslaan and Van Iseghemlaan. Count von Schwerin, Staff Commander of the Northern Army, lives in the luxurious Villa Bastin Schwalbach, Hertogstraat, Mariakerke. Ostend’s Mayor Liebaert has been taken ill and his duties have been assumed by the Deputy Mayor Alderman Devriese who appears fully capable of taking on the challenge. Dean Camerlynck has been working tirelessly to ensure that the population will not suffer from hunger. The attitude of the political parties has changed considerably as a result of the German occupation. The Germans had adopted the Cercle Catholique’s base in Weststraat as their venue for meetings, against the wishes of the owner and members who promptly closed the building. The liberal members of the Cercle Cécilia immediately placed their own premises at the disposal of the Catholics. Never before had such solidarity been seen between the political parties! Some time ago the Kaiser made a formal visit to the submarine base at Zeebrugge and stayed in Ostend on his return journey. On the corner of Van Iseghemlaan and Vlaanderenstraat he passed a group of fishermen who did not salute him but rather grinned at him disrespectfully. They were all arrested; luckily the Kaiser did not want to leave a negative impression of his visit so they were all released the next day. Finally, the fishermen’s wharf resembles nothing more than an abandoned beehive. Misery pervades the place. Fortunately Father Pype, the fishermen’s priest, supplies material aid and helps maintain morale. A Wretched State of Affairs October 2nd 1917 Dearest Mother, Please send me my leave request as soon as possible. I have transferred to another battery and they don’t know when I was last on leave so I might be able to get extra leave without having to wait another two months, especially as there are very few soldiers crossing over to England at the moment. I am staying in a quiet spot where everything would be great if we didn’t have a plague of fleas. The entire base is infested. It’s probably due to the machine gunners who were here before us with their dogs. So far we have tried everything to get rid of the pests. We set out all the furniture, beds, tables, chairs and scrubbed it all with bucket after bucket of water; nothing helped. I hoped that my red soap, you know, the one you use to clean the toilets in Deganwy, would protect me. It didn’t; it seemed to attract them if anything! This week, then, has been designated as ‘flea hunt’ week, day and night, without respite. You’d better be careful or I might bring some back in a box and put them in your beds during my next holiday. Customs don’t stop fleas! Mother, please hurry with my leave request. Valentin October 10th 1917 My dearest Mother, The situation with the fleas has improved; the cold has seen them off for now. But we’re still not comfortable here. The barracks are half in ruins and are chilly and draughty, and there are no materials to repair them with. In terms of the war, not much is happening - the weather is too bad and wet. Could you send me some gloves? And blotting paper so I don’t burn my letters holding them up to the candle flame! When I come over for leave in three weeks time I’ll bring ‘Planteur’ tobacco for you and aunt. There is no more tobacco to be had here in the canteen, and in the shops the price has risen from a recent 3.50 to a full 9 francs. I won’t bring any souvenirs, the ones made from shells and the like, because my new battery won’t get involved in that. They are a bunch of barbarians, bumpkins and rascals, as I have told you before. We work quite a lot, but life is extremely boring. Michel Legray was wounded during a heroic mission, but his carer told me his wounds will heal and he will be able to walk again within a month and will be on leave till then. He will be awarded the ‘Leopold II-Order’ medal and a War Cross. My financial situation has at least improved a bit, thanks to my new rank of corporal. I now earn 5.75 francs per day. Here we also get an extra 2 francs for each day of leave. With the current pay rates as a non-commissioned officer you can just about survive but on an ordinary soldiers pay it is almost impossible. And so we stand here with wet feet in the mud and cold. In this sector there seems to be no sign of danger. I ride my horse from morning to evening, on duty of course! Mother, write to me often, as often as you can because my spirits are flagging again. The cold, the wet, the mud, no coal to make a fire, the prospect of another horrid six month winter of war, what misery! But I guess moaning won’t help; we have to get through it, along with the rest; I just wonder for how much longer? Much love to my Aunt Sugar-marzipan, my nieces and nephews and a thousand kisses for you, Valentin October 12th 1917 Dear Valentin, I write to send awful news. My two brothers are dead, brought down by shrapnel from the same shell. It’s terrible. How must my poor parents feel? They were hit on the 8th at 21:30, while at their post. Jules died instantly from a head wound. René was similarly wounded and died on the 10th at 04:30, after trephination surgery. I was informed by telegram that they had been wounded, but when I arrived at the hospital it was to find that they were both dead. I never imagined it would be that bad. What an awful day, I loved my brothers dearly and I had to bury both of them yesterday. Such a sad and dreary ceremony, no wreath and no words spoken, nothing; there had been no time to organise anything. In a few weeks I will go back to see if what needs to be done has in fact been carried out. I will write no more now, my dearest Valentin, I hope you can understand how hard it is. Your faithful friend, Alfred Snoeck IV A 2e Bij 155 C.I.A. Eu. S. Inf. [IV Artillery Group, Battery 155mm, Artillery Instruction Centre, Eu, Seine Inférieure] Journal notes Friday October 13th 1917 A hectic period behind me: moved the battery to Oye, heavy offensive from the end of July, on leave in Deganwy from 8th till 19th August, promoted to corporal on 9th September and consequently transferred to the 3rd Group, then to Adinkerke, Klein-Leisele and Alveringem. No friends here; waves of discouragement and loneliness. Today heavy artillery arrived at the French and English positions in Diksmuide. There are continuous rumours that there will be a big offensive soon. Daily rain, awful mud, chore after chore and exhausting slave-like labour to organise transport, engineering and supplies. Journal notes Tuesday November 6th 1917 Departing on leave to Deganwy today. Apparently our battery is due to move to Izenberge or Hoogstade soon. From November 1917 until February 1918 the 4th Army Division occupied the Merkem sector (new name for Noordschote sector). Journal notes Sunday November 25th 1917 Moved again, this time in the direction of Gijverinkhove, the birthplace of my father. The gunners are building a new defensive line at the front, to the rear of Nieuwkapelle. We have to collect building materials from Oostvleteren, a task which takes an entire day. Yesterday and today passed that way. Found lodging above the pigs in a dark hole. Journal notes Wednesday November 29th 1917 Back at the front. I had to search for my battery and finally found it in Klein-Leisele, in the Steenstrate sector. Dreadful place. Journal notes Monday December 5th 1917 The winter is here again. Ice-cold and no fire. Another move scheduled in a few days time, to Stavele, a nice base. It’s about time! December 10th 1917 My dearest Mother, I am always thinking back to my leave spent with you last month; what a dream! You all really did everything you could to make my life a pleasure. The walks, the gorgeous food, the long cosy winter evenings and the quiet talks. The memories keep me going while we move around, usually in a sea of mud, and with no chance of a warm fire! After three years of war, conditions for the average Belgian soldier are more wretched and unbearable than they have ever been. At the moment I am sleeping in a pigsty! Usually we leave just when we have a place cleaned up and habitable then wind up in another filthy shack. We bring some semblance of order to our new quarters only to be sent to some new rubbish dump. At the point where we have made it barely liveable we are moved on to some other foul hole. I’m starting to think they are doing it on purpose so that all bases will be systematically cleaned up. There! That was a short letter. Tomorrow there will be more news. I’m thinking of you Mother, Valentin December 13th 1917 Mother dear, I have had several very busy days. I’m serving as assistant quarter master and work from early morning to late evening, but it’s fun and a safe job. I collect straw, buy potatoes and lead food convoys. It may be more work than usual but at least it’s something to do. I’d rather be busy than spend my time sitting around yawning. Today I brought back 480kg of potatoes at 0.11 francs per kilo. I did have to be very sharp to get the right weight! But I got those scoundrels; I stole an extra three bags. That will teach them not to try and cheat me! A few purchases like that can take an entire day, I’m sure you can imagine; the soldiers in front of me were loading up 3000kg. Right now we can’t complain about our lodgings. We are staying in good accommodation, and most importantly it has a fire and my bed is right next to it! If only they would leave us alone now for a few days; I’ve travelled enough, I know the entire Belgian front by heart, I’ve been everywhere. If you buy a map of the front from the Daily Mail I’ll show you all of the places I’ve been. Maybe by my next leave the front will be off that map! Who knows? I wrote to captain Wenis about a move back to my former battery. I am unhappy in this one. A hundred thousand kisses for you and Alice, Valentin A letter arrived from Camiel Wenis, Captain Commander of the General Staff. December 18th 1917 Dear Dewaele, I was unable to arrange your desired move to another battery. The colonel refuses to allow any transfers unless an immediate replacement is needed. Shortly, a new company is to be be created, which will make promotion possible and you would thus be eligible to sit the exam for sergeant major. At that time it may be possible to return you to the 59th. I can tell you that your superiors are very pleased with you. They will certainly support you. In these circumstances it would not be of great benefit for you to move to the 59th where currently all officers seem to be new recruits. I will act upon your wishes as soon as I am able. Assuring you of my support and good wishes, Captain Commander of the General Staff C. Wenis December 25th 1917 Dear Mother, Time is passing so fast that I didn’t even notice it was Christmas again today, the fourth Christmas of our separated and scattered family. Every day seems the same here. I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and I hope you will eat better than we will. Here we don’t have the flesh-pots of Egypt and it is certainly not one of the seven good years. The Belgian Army has, with great generosity, given us a small cup of wine served on this joyous day, supposedly a quarter of a litre, and supposedly wine, but in truth it is just watery vinegar... And if we are very good we might even get a small ball of soap! You see how spoiled we are here. And the English? They are next to us, drinking and eating with such unbridled exuberance that we haven’t slept for two days. While we sit here without a cent, drooling with empty stomachs, they are roasting a pig on a spit and filling their stomachs with streams of beer and wine... Remember my address is no longer 3rd Company but 4th. Hugs to you all, ValentinHardship and Foreboding In Deganwy, Valentin’s mother and her sister Eudoxie Libert often played host to soldiers on leave from the front. Henri Schollaert was a regular visitor and wrote the following letter to wish them a Happy New Year. Henri Schollaert D237 – 7th Company Belgian Army in the field Front, January 1st 1918 Dear Mrs. Dewaele and Mrs. Libert, It is with pleasure that I now wish you a Happy New Year, good health and the speedy return to Ostend which we have all been hoping for over the past three years. I pray that in this year of 1918 we will see the end of this unhappy war. Everybody seems to have lost faith. But for all that, there is enough talk implying that this will be the final year of the war. At this moment we are still on duty in De Panne and in Leisele; where we will go from here we do not know. Dear Madam, I plan to postpone my leave until the month of May, when the weather will be nicer and the days longer, making our wonderful walks even more pleasant. Right now, I plan to go to France once again; my friends write constantly that I should go to France and so I feel duty bound to do just that. So madam, if it suits you I shall spend my later leave with you. Please give my compliments to Miss Alice. With my best wishes, Henri Schollaert. January 4th 1918 My Dearest Mother, The first letter I write in this New Year is destined for your eyes. Everything has passed fairly quietly here, but I did have some bad luck. Not a nice event to mark the New Year! We stole a cart full of wood which I drove to the battery to help keep my men warm in their shelters. Of course I’m responsible and I know that it is against the rules, but I felt it was my duty. Normally this would lead to a court-martial, demotion and prison. I was lucky; this time they let it go. Things had just settled down when I took a wrong turn with my cart on another journey and ended up in the ditch with a broken axle. The next day a wheel rolled from my cart dropping the side and breaking the spring. Then today, just to top it all off, they said my horses were sweating too much. As a result of all that they just confined me to quarters for eight days. It never rains but it pours, so they also postponed my promotion by several months. I refuse to take it to heart and say ‘go jump in the lake’ to all those little warlords whose only joy is to pester their fellow men. I got a lot of letters from Belgium and Ostend during the holiday period. Things are not going well there. Our shop is empty and business has stopped. Don’t worry though, our stock may be vulnerable but our deeds and money are safely in the bank where even the bombs can’t reach. Don’t let the worry and depression overwhelm you. In about four months the three of us will be in Ostend rebuilding our business! Your loving son, Valentin Slowly news filtered in from Ostend that all was not well in the shop ‘In het Anker’. The head salesperson, Maria Vercamer, was rumoured to be keeping company with a German and was taking regular trips to Leipzig. Strange things seemed to be happening in the shop, but nobody knew exactly what was going on. There was talk of theft, and rumours that Maria and her colleagues were cavorting with the Germans. All this time the family looked on with disapproval but was powerless to intervene. Maria’s brother Julien had died in the war and her other brother Daniel was still on active service and regularly met Valentin. Both brothers had spent time with Valentin’s mother while on leave, first in London and then in Deganwy. On one occasion Valentin had even paid for their trip. Cousin Henri Van Graefschepe endured a gas attack and was discharged on medical grounds. He wrote the following in a letter he sent to Deganwy from Folkestone where he was recovering: You should all come here; you would be closer to the children’s schools and the soldiers on leave. The only disadvantage is that rent would be charged here, while you are able to live rent free in Deganwy, thanks to the committee. By now Alice was earning extra money teaching language classes. Valentin dreamt of his shop in Ostend and assured his mother that he rarely needed to go as far as the battery. He spent most of his time safe at the base camp or headquarters some distance from the front lines, where he was ‘careful not to let the shells fall on his head and everyone ran like the wind to take cover when German planes were spotted’. The aerial combat was terrible but exciting. Construction of shelters and the filling of sandbags continued. Upon returning from leave in Deganwy, Valentin discovered that his battery had moved to a quiet hamlet in France. He wrote to his mother letting her know that his pipe was broken and requested a new one. The fountain pen worked very well but could she please send him some ‘ink tablets’? Ink was very expensive. London and Paris were under bombardment and the German offensive in France and Belgium was taking on awful proportions. It seemed as if the Germans might break through the front line. Valentin’s mother’s financial situation was becoming critical: this would be the fourth year of living without an income. Mr Knowles, her English textile supplier before the war, sent the following letter to reassure her: St Swithin-Putney, February 18th, 1918. Dear Madame Dewaele, I received your interesting letter on Saturday and have just had it translated as, to be sure, my French is no longer good enough. Yes, Madame is fully recovered from her serious attack of pneumonia. Last night when the raid on London was on and the cannons roaring over our heads, she said to me “I am sleepy, you go to bed, I am not afraid of the bombs” and in five minutes she was asleep. But I can assure you that I was afraid and I am not ashamed of it. Regarding the future of your assistance and the help you will need until you are back safe at home, of course we will do all in our power to help you, and I suggest that the moment you have need of help, you write and tell me so. And I will arrange with our cashier to mail you every week the sum you find that your necessities require. In this way, you will receive it with regularity and it will not be forgotten. These are indeed trying times. We have also been helping a French family we have known for a long time, people from Arras, and we send them the regular weekly sum they need and find the plan works well. And it suits us as it goes out weekly in small amounts and not one large sum. Madame sends love to you and Alice and I add my own. Yours sincerely, W.H. Knowles. At times Valentin was not sure what he would prefer: continuation of the fighting and drudging hostilities or a German breakthrough and a sudden end to this everlasting and terrible war. As the situation worsened all leave was postponed yet again. The postal service was still working quite well, with letters taking from four to seven days. Suddenly, to the soldiers’ dismay, there was no more bread; it was said that the bakery had been bombed. The soldiers were forced to resort to Dutch rusks and ‘pain Joffre’ which was a type of French bread named after Marshal Joffre. This was met with general disgruntlement, and when a small amount of Belgian bread was handed out it was a genuine treat in comparison. On February 2nd 1918, due to the reorganisation of the infantry, Valentin’s battery became a part of the 16th Artillery Regiment while remaining in the 4th Infantry Division. In March 1918 the division occupied the area around Nieuwkapelle, and from the end of March until May the area around Boezinge. From the end of May until June the division was off duty behind the 2nd (coastal) line. From the end of June until the end of August 1918 it held the area around Diksmuide-Nieuwkapelle. Journal notes Sunday February 23rd 1918 I was on leave from the 7th till the 23rd of February. Soldiers on leave were not allowed to board the train in Klein-Leisele! Awkward travel connections in England and stormy weather at sea made it a difficult journey. The battery is in Hondschoote now, or Killem-Linde to be precise. There was a parade in Stavele for the colonel yesterday; the weather was beautiful. Apparently we will have to go to Lo soon. I have a new mare called Pol that neighs, rears and likes to pee while I groom her. All the talk is of the coming German offensive; in any case the French are digging a very complicated trench labyrinth around Hondschoote. Journal notes Thursday March 21st 1918 The guns thunder day and night. Leisele and Roesbrugge are getting the full onslaught even though they are far behind the front line. I’ve had an annoying cold for ages now; I can’t get rid of it. The doctor prescribes warm wine, but where am I supposed to get the sugar? In three days we are heading back to the front. Journal notes Tuesday March 26th 1918 The papers are full of news about the battle of the Somme and the bombing of Paris. No bread today - the bakery in Adinkerke has been destroyed. We are eating Dutch rusks instead. Journal notes Wednesday March 27th 1918 Today we are leaving Killem-Linde. I’m taking charge of the supply convoy for the battery. We are in the area of Pollinkhove, about fifteen minutes from Hoogstade. Armand, our young, newly-arrived gunner was keeping pace behind the column. A shell landed right on top of him. There wasn’t much left. We found a small piece of his leather wallet. He was only eighteen, such a nice gentle boy... April 4th 1918 My Dearest Mother Urgent news! Follow these instructions closely when you plant the onions. Begin planting after sunset on Good Friday. When the stalks reach 10 to 15 centimetres break them off. That’s how you get nice round onions instead of a narrow root-like shape. According to the advice of a genuine smallholder from Hoogstade, that is the right way to do it. If the gossips in Deganwy spy on you to see what’s going on in the garden at that hour, leave them guessing! I heard that René De Vleeschouwer was exposed to poison gas. I hope it isn’t too bad and they didn’t have to take him away. I have been asked to take the postman’s place for a while. So I’m currently acting as his apprentice. The ‘good man’ is explaining to me in the minutest detail how to process a money order and how to fill in a receipt for a registered letter. Yesterday I drank something I hadn’t had in ages: buttermilk. The farmer’s wife had just churned butter and was selling the buttermilk. I drank half a litre of it, right there, cold; simply delicious, nice and thick with pieces of butter floating in it. I gave the rest of it to the sergeant in charge of the kitchen who made it into a pudding which we ate together; what a feast! It was good timing, otherwise I would have been hungry again. We are back down to a quarter loaf of bread per day! If it’s like this for much longer I don’t know what will happen. The troops are out of control. The farmer is the unfortunate victim; his meat, ham and butter get stolen. But how can you blame the thieves? Today three men cleaned the farmer’s wagon in return for a loaf of bread. I buy figs, chocolate and cheese. What can I do? That’s war. Wait till I get home; no food store will be safe. Your loving son, Valentin On the 11th of April 1918 Rodolphe De Buck wrote a letter to Valentin. He seemed to have developed an interest in Valentin’s sister Alice. Dear Corporal Tintin, I got your droll little letter today, in which you go on so naively about sex, bosoms and bums, that’s a bit much at your age isn’t it? Especially now, when everyone else is concerned with their patriotic duty, you start with these whimsical thoughts. This is no time to get whimsical, we should all be thinking of our patriotic duty. I’m stuck here in Langemark and this place is something else... Hey, Shirker, did you ever see Merkem? Well, it’s a lot worse here, the air is fouled by the bodies left behind after the last push, I buried some of them myself just to make it bearable. Here I stand on the ridge, I am an antitank weapon with nothing but my gun, ‘pièce sacrifiée’, pure cannon fodder! What do you think of the German offensive? Judging by the roar and racket in this area I think they are coming north. You know we were in Lo for a few days. What a sector; I didn’t see a single shell crater, and the cows were grazing in the field in front of the battery. Of course, such sectors are far too quiet for Stosstruppen Crack troops like us, so they could think of nothing better than to put us here where there wasn’t a single shelter. Where’s your command line? So, Tintin, have you had a word with your sister on my behalf yet? Make sure you let me know, won’t you? Anyway, I’m in good health. I’m expecting a speedier response than the last time. If all leave hadn’t been cancelled I’d be in Nice now. Stay strong and watch out for the coming offensive. Keep the flag flying! Rodolphe. April 15th 1918 My Dearest Mother, I just had a visit from Daniel Vercamer. He was stationed nearby. Unfortunately, he has already left to travel back to the trenches. He gave me a card to send to his sister; I should be able to post it soon. I feel sorry for him, the ‘piotten’ Foot soldiers have it hard. I am alone again now. I go for walks with my pipe as my only companion. I get on well with the sergeant who runs the kitchen; we used to share a room. Every evening I go to warm myself up in his kitchen, and we have a small, very small sandwich together. He also makes us a ‘speciaaltje’ Little speciality which is coffee almost as good, but not quite, as in Deganwy. He goes to bed at 21:30 while I go to collect the sentry who is due to guard the munitions wagons from 22:00 onwards, and then I go to bed myself. That’s how I spend my evenings. The guns thunder on; it’s awful. They are moving ever closer. I don’t know how much longer we will hold out here. The English keep pulling back and I think the French will have to restore the situation. The guns behind us are just as thunderous; it really is deafening. I wonder if we won’t have to surrender Ieper (Ypres) as well. What happens then? In the meantime, we are constantly on the move. If you don’t get any news for a few days it could mean that we are prisoners of war. It really is that bad here. I have 45 spare francs left; it’s not much but it all goes towards food; we just don’t have enough. And that’s how life goes here: hard work. I definitely won’t earn any medals here. I don’t want any either. I do what I’m ordered to do and nothing more. Could you send me news of the garden in Deganwy? Are the potatoes growing? Will we earn back the price of the seeds? (26 shillings - do you remember?) My best wishes to all the family and as always, a thousand kisses to you Valentin Journal notes Monday April 15th 1918 I weighed myself today: 74 kilos, dressed, with boots and gaiters, fully equipped. Militarily affairs are not going well; they are dismantling the hospital at Beveren and the materials are being moved back behind the lines. South of Ieper (Ypres) the English are pulling back and we are supposed to report to our division in Langemark. The men are extremely unsettled, and retreat is becoming a real possibility. So morale is obviously at an all time low. This afternoon the nervous anticipation reached a peak; the captain, the commander and the tactical staff came to the forward line and told us we had to move the battery. From 17:00 there was a curfew. At 18:00 a general assembly and roll call was held and the order was given to prepare for departure. Half an hour later a drill call rang out; once everyone was assembled again the 1st commander repeated the orders and reported at least some good news: the English had advanced by 20 kilometres in Amiens and the offensive at Bailleul was halted. Is it true? Don’t get the hopes up. Journal notes Wednesday April 17th 1918 We collected the equipment during the night and are on the way to Ieper (Ypres) now; it is close to noon. Apparently the front will be flooded so that more reinforcements can be sent to Ieper. Artillery rumbles constantly to our right. Elzendamme is under fire. Arrival in Woesten, a place called ‘De Wippe’. Saw prisoners on route. We will be staying in the English barracks, so we set up the beds quickly. Journal notes Thursday April 18th 1918 On sentry duty in the stables. I brought the munitions wagons to ‘Ma Campagne’ yesterday; it’s a base on the rear lines. I found a small hut for myself near the stable which is quite far from the base. We have been ordered to remain ready for departure at any time. I believe the situation is dire. Things are not going well for the English; luckily the French and Belgians are here too. Journal notes Saturday April 20th 1918 Only the line was moved. We are in Woesten now, the worst possible place, where the train tracks cross, right by the armoured train. Bombs and shells guaranteed... Drawing by Valentin of his quarters in a letter to his mum Turning Point: A Baladeuse and Sergeant Valentin April 15th 1918, the front Dearest Mother, You’re a bunch of jokers; I got all five letters at once. They are all dated differently but I’m guessing they were all written the same day. So that’s why I had no letters for so long! Anyway, thanks for any news that comes my way. The war is raging here. It can’t go on like this for much longer; someone has to give. I hope it won’t be us. We find ourselves near the heat of the furnace, and I can tell you when the firing starts everything shakes and rattles. At night we are exposed to a fascinating fireworks display and live in constant fear. Nobody feels like laughing anymore; we think of those poor souls on the front line struggling in the trenches. That must be hell! In a few days I will have to go to the batteries; the captain’s nephew is ‘a bit tired’. Couldn’t you just hit him? At the moment I am quite far from the front. We have occupied the farm of a fellow soldier and friend; his parents have left and the English live here now as if they were local gentry. A group of us got together with our comrade and emptied the place first. The potatoes were sold to the battalion for a bargain price and a pig was sold to a butcher for 200 francs. The sofa, the clock, and the pots and pans we kept for ourselves. I saw René yesterday in Hondschoote; I spoke to him for about half an hour. His morale and health are surprisingly good. Time to go; my horse has finished her oats! A hundred thousand kisses to you all! Valentin April 24th 1918, Aubrey Cottage, Deganwy My Very Dearest Valentin, I just received your latest letter. I do so hope you won’t be forced to leave that poor scrap of land we have left. Have things not been improving over the last few days? Listen, if you should ever be captured, immediately write to Mr. Levy and Mr. Becker, and send a letter to the firm of Schwab und Schwarzschild in Berlin. They can help you and put you in an office somewhere. I will enclose 40 marks in case the worst should happen. Don’t worry, I have a lot of courage; it is true, being captured is not a disaster. But when I think that I may not see you at least every three months I feel faint. You are all I have. I hope the news will improve. Write me every day. Until tomorrow then. A thousand kisses from your adoring mother, Mother Journal notes Tuesday April 23rd 1918 Duties in Roesbrugge. I drank a few glasses of stout with that woman from Café Sebastopol, which makes me think of the days of the Artillery instruction centre in Eu. Journal notes Thursday April 25th 1918 This morning at 3 o’clock we were shaken out of our beds by a terrible bombardment. It lasted until 10 o’clock. In the evening as I was underway with the munitions wagons to pick up a load of shells, a gas grenade fell a mere 10 metres in front of our column! We ran like the wind to get out of the 200-metre danger zone. Our faces and clothes were full of black spots, our clothes stank of mustard, and we had a dry mouth and sore throat. Apparently that wasn’t enough, because when we arrived we were ordered to be ready to leave, as the Germans captured the Kemmelberg this morning. Journal notes Sunday April 28th 1918 There is a battle raging. We are firing non-stop. The Germans are advancing in Ieper and we will probably have to surrender part of the front. Got a registered letter containing 40 marks and 20 Belgian francs from mother yesterday, ‘just in case...’ Journal notes Tuesday April 30th 1918 Walked to Lobeau in Busseboom yesterday to get potatoes! It has been an absolutely freezing month. I spend the days on our stand and the evenings with my ‘baladeuse’ Mobile cannon: we fire 12 rounds per hour from random places at random targets. Journal notes Friday May 3rd 1918 Our men plundered Poperinge yesterday and are selling all sorts of things at reasonable prices. I managed to buy two nice bottles of wine from the local priest’s wine cellar. Journal notes Tuesday May 7th 1918 It’s getting warmer, but it has been raining for the past two days. There are notices of appointment coming in for the non-commissioned officers. I was first on the list last time; this time I’m only third. I will miss my promotion again. I assume the captain doesn’t like me. I have to get away from this battery and the only way to do that is to get promoted. May 7th 1918 My Dearest Mother, It’s awful; without this offensive we would be together in Deganwy right now. In the meantime, there is a lot going on here. A few days ago I was having a rest in what I thought was a quiet place, but then one after another, the captain, the lieutenant and the major came by, all to give me different tasks; it never ends! I am very careful as you keep asking me to be; I’m quite a bit behind the front line, that’s the advantage of heavy artillery. My current specialisation is firing the ‘baladeuse’. You’re probably wondering what on earth that is. Well it’s a type of mobile cannon which I can move around and fire at will. Great fun! The point is that the shells land in random places, on the roads or in fields so that the Germans can never predict where the next one will land. On the other side, the enemy think we have moved our battery, so they change their position, but by the time the cannons fire, I am long gone. The prisoners we have taken and spoken to say that my ‘baladeuse’ is widely feared and causes a lot of damage. I was pleased to hear that! The Allies have left Poperinge; the town is empty and all civilians had to evacuate. Of course the men pinched a few things here and there but if we didn’t take it the Germans certainly would. Surely it’s better that it all stays in good hands! Naturally none of this is allowed, so each time we break in we experience a thrill of fear. I have picked up a few nice presents for you this way. And have you admired my new fancy writing paper, ‘Royal Arms’? A few of my men visited the wine cellar in the rectory and left with a nice little cargo. I bought two bottles of Bordeaux and we drank them. I would have liked to send you one but it’s not possible so we toasted the end of the war and your good health. Elixir of the Gods; it may have been a little young but we won’t complain. Unfortunately we were found out. The entire division is now confined to quarters and banned from Poperinge. A lot of men have been caught looting, but all the nicest stuff was raided early. The commanders should have taken precautions and kept the men from temptation. In terms of the food a positive development is under way; the bread ration has been increased from 600 to 750 grams per day. The quality of the meals has also improved dramatically. We still don’t get quite enough on our plates but you can get used to that. My morale is vastly improved. We got lucky yesterday; the captain’s horse had to be put down due to a nasty knee wound. We got several enormous and tender horse steaks from it. Hooray for the commander’s grey! Lots of hugs for Aunt, and her dear children too. Valentin Journal notes Monday May 21st 1918 The Germans have been shelling us for three nights and the shrapnel is whistling past our ears. I went and found shelter in some disused trenches not far from here. During the day they shoot like maniacs and at night they bombard us. It’s a pity because the weather has finally improved! Journal notes Monday May 28th 1918 Yesterday was a wonderful day, lazing comfortably in the grass with an occasional shot over to the other side. But from today it’s the usual story again, all day and night. A German plane even came by to shoot down six captive balloons nice and steady, without a single allied plane in sight. After today’s duty is done I’m detouring back to base, because Woesten is being hit hard. Journal notes Tuesday May 29th 1918 I have no idea how much longer we can stay here. The Germans are really going for us, it’s raining shells, well aimed and getting closer. Journal notes Friday June 1st 1918 I spent the whole day yesterday driving back and forth gathering munitions, and in the middle of the night, around 2 o’clock, we pulled back the cannons. We were supposed to head down the road to Killem-Linde by half past twelve today but the bombardment was so bad that we left at ten. I don’t know how we will get out of this with our hides intact. The battery which is coming in to relieve us will be left with a large number of dead horses. We stopped in Westvleteren to eat and were immediately shelled again. A shell landed about three metres from me – a miracle – it didn’t explode! We trotted on and had our meal further up the road from Roesbrugge. It’s 4 o’clock and we have arrived in Killem-Linde. There doesn’t seem to be much room; I’ll pitch my tent and find a farm nearby tomorrow. Still no sign of my promotion. I have to escape the drag of this battery; I’ll never get advancement here. Journal notes Wednesday June 13th 1918 Yesterday the major carried out a general inspection. Today it’s the horses’ turn to be inspected. The second rankers are in a panic. I am completely demoralised, the war is dragging on, there is no noticeable improvement, no advance, and we live like animals; it’s pointless and crazy. As a soldier I feel like a shackled galley slave. Journal notes Monday June 18th 1918 I had to scout for a new location near Stavele for our field artillery yesterday. The village was under fire two weeks ago, a lot of houses have been destroyed and there is no one in sight. Once again we are quartered horrendously. Ten of us share a hut beside the stables. Are the horses stabled? Good! Do the officers have a decent place to stay? Yes? Then everything is OK. What about the troops? Oh they’ll manage! Journal notes Wednesday June 20th 1918 We are all sick and are stumbling around like feverish rag dolls with pain all over. No surprise really in such an unhealthy base! When we are allotted quarters the first thing we have to do is take out the dirty bedding the animals left behind. This causes an almost lethal stink and creates clouds of midges, mosquitoes and other insects. The colonel came down to have a look; naturally he was only shown the clean quarters... Valentin once again took on the job of mail carrier; this gave him an extra 8 francs and another 3.50 francs on top of that for the newspaper sales. Using this extra wealth, he signed up for a written English course. The constant pressure from the Germans eased somewhat, there were no more German planes to disrupt his sleep, the U-boats had been halted and the food situation in England was due to improve. Alice asked her brother if he could make sure to remember the Petit Larousse she asked for, to which he answered: “I won’t forget, but you cannot imagine what war is like; there is nothing here, bombs and shells fall around us like rain. What a life, what a life! And you speak of a ‘Petit Larousse’!!!” The length of all leave periods was shortened from ten to eight days. The warm weather brought back the fleas. Some days it was so warm that Valentin was forced to walk around with a towel on his head and his cap on over it. Others were wearing straw hats or panama hats that looked as if they came straight from a carnival shop. Weeks passed by with the usual routine of rest, time at the base and time at the front with the battery. At the beginning of July, Valentin managed to move from the noisy, crowded barracks to the relative peace of a tent in a meadow, just like the scouts he envied before the war. The tent was where he wrote his letters and studied English. It was occasionally knocked down by a horse during the night but that was still preferable to sleeping and studying in the barracks. The army was constantly on the move, with the artillery relocating from one base to another. Each move took three days, one day to dismantle and prepare the equipment, a day to move and another day to set everything back up. At this point in the war, the farmers did not like to see the troops coming as they had little enough food and space for their own needs. They would run to the mayor who would immediately call a meeting with the military command which would then pass on the order to move on. Usually a day later this command would be revoked. Farmer, soldiers, mayor, military command - it was a mix which inevitably led to conflict. “We have returned to the same farmer we were stationed with three weeks ago. Even then he was incredibly ungracious and unkind, which lead to trouble with the troops. They steal his ham and butter. Do you know how? I’ll tell you: they attach a fork to the end of a long pole and poke around through the bars of the cellar window till they have something. They take everything from his hay to his tools and at night they milk his cows. Now the farmer has locked his pump with a padlock so that we are forced to wash in a stagnant pool nearby. It looks as if we’ve ruined it for ourselves with this one.” Valentin had not eaten properly since the last time he was on leave in Deganwy. To find a decent meal you had to go to De Panne, or a large village at the front; those were the only places where you could find restaurants or people who cooked meals for soldiers. In June Valentin suffered from stomach trouble and was forced to switch his diet from predominantly soup, meat and potatoes to eggs at 0.40 francs each and milk. Shortly afterwards a flu epidemic broke out amongst the troops. It only lasted for about four days but left the sufferers too weak to care for themselves, and their healthy comrades were left to do their chores and provide them with milk. Even when recovering the soldiers were very weak and expended what energy they had on the search for protein-rich eggs, milk and butter to restore their strength. The pleasant weather turned to rain and Valentin folded his tent and went back to sleeping on a straw mat in a store-room under the stairs. Thanks to the increasing efforts of the Americans, people were becoming more optimistic. The American will to fight, morale and large store of equipment and food revived hope. One thinks of Jules Verne and H.G. Wells and their extraordinary novels; that’s how incredible the American intervention was. Yet Valentin continued to question, ‘how will this end’? He was lonely and melancholic and did not have a single true friend. “I have nothing in common with the men I am forced to work with. They are, for the most part, good men; they are simple, a bit coarse and rough, even primitive sometimes. They have a very limited idea of what war means. Of political matters they have little or no notion. I amuse myself by listening to them, correcting their mistakes and making them a little wiser when I can. I try to soothe those who are disgruntled or simply talk to them. This is how I pass my evenings, thinking, reading, studying and writing.” News trickled in from occupied Belgium: Aunt Lena and Aunt Maria took over ‘In het Anker’, the shop Valentin and his mother had been forced to abandon, to restore order, make an inventory and take stock of the situation. They took in hand the corrupt personnel and Maria Vercamer explaining in no uncertain terms how things were to be run from now on. Uncle Jerôme Haverland and Aunt Martha celebrated their silver wedding in Aardenburg, Holland, sending pictures that surprisingly reached Valentin at the front. Florent and Else Dewaele were now living on a new farm close to the French border. They played gracious hosts to Valentin, pleasing him with sandwiches, butter, honey and even cream for his coffee; the farm appeared to be almost like a castle to Valentin. He also visited Mette, his grandmother, who spent the day feeding him gorgeous food, lent him 20 francs and gave him a box of cigars. She seemed to Valentin to be a fair trader who did not take advantage of the soldiers. Aunt Honorientje, a nun, was now living in Montreuil-sur-Mer, following the destruction of her previous convent in the war zone. Grandmother, aged 81, had left Ostend and moved in with her daughter in Brussels, where she dreamed of seeing Valentin again; he was to send a photograph as quickly as possible. There was also bad news: Cousin Marguerite was struggling with her health and staying in a sanatorium near Brussels in the Forêt de Soignes after contracting tuberculosis. Valentin was placed in charge of food procurement for his section. This responsibility filled the entire morning each day: logistics, weighing, bargaining, recording of each item, resolving conflicts and reaching agreements were all part of the daily duty. I keep a close eye on what goes on in the kitchen; I won’t let the men cut their own steak, and they are not allowed to take any sugar or tobacco. I don’t want anything to be stolen. Everything has to add up at the end of each day; there is not enough food as it is. This does mean that the men are a bit mad at me. Suddenly everything started to happen at once: Valentin was promoted to sergeant on July 16th 1918; also in July, the battery moved to the Artillery Instruction Centre in Eu, Seine-Maritime, near Dieppe, where Valentin had received the first part of his artillery training in 1915. Here a new unit was formed and they were to remain in place for one to two months. New horses, new cannons and new strategies following the English system were supplied. The journey from the front to Eu took fifteen hours by train, but as a non-commissioned officer, Valentin was now able to enjoy the train journey in relative comfort, seated in second class. Here there were only four men to a compartment while the other troops were squeezed in like sardines. The officers even ate at table with a plate! This was a remarkable new status. July 1st 1918 Dear Mother, Despite orders and counter orders, rumours and confusion, we are still stuck here on the same base, which is a relatively comfortable farm. It’s a terrible pity that Alice won’t be a bridesmaid at Eglington’s daughter’s wedding after all. She must be very disappointed, but as you said, the cost of that dress is far too high; we can’t afford that. You can treat your daughter once in a while but there is a limit. You would think that family didn’t have a brain between them. They don’t think, and can’t imagine that there are people who have been hit hard by the war. Nevertheless, I hope she will still have fun at the wedding as an ordinary guest. I have no idea what you mean when you say there is a table on the way from Waring and Gillow. What is it? This must be just another joke at my expense? I’m on to you! I’m surprised it’s that cold in North Wales. We are having an ideal season here, with a pleasant balance of good and bad weather, of rain and warm temperatures. If the farmers are to be believed there will be a good harvest this year. Even I am starting to see the difference between good and bad seasons and harvests. Not surprising really, after a three year extended holiday in the countryside... The two Renés are on the way to spend their leave in Deganwy! Both officer and soldier are extremely happy. If only I were with them. Many kisses, Valentin July 4th 1918 Dear Mother, Ah, now I know what you meant by Waring and Gillow! What beautiful and practical little pieces of folding furniture; such a luxury, I never would have believed it! From this day on I’m at home wherever I go, whether it is an empty attic like the one I’m in now, or a concrete bunker. Writing, eating and sitting are no longer a problem! I will look after them well; I’m almost afraid to use them! One question though, is the cushion to rest my feet on or to sit on? Your Valentin Rodolphe De Buck wrote to congratulate Valentin on his promotion: July 31st 1918 Aha, finally a letter from my dear ’colleague’. Oh yes! My best wishes Mr sergeant. If you are ever promoted again do try to let me know a bit earlier will you? To tell you the truth it would have surprised me if you hadn’t become even more of a shirker, or would you rather become a barracks rat? Or even a horse trainer? This is the type of sector where we can go for eight days without hearing a single shot. We have a fancy bunker here as well, with everything we could need. Our commander even made sure we wouldn’t get bored and kept us amused by building an impressive obstacle course, where we have the pleasure of training for at least two hours per day, but for sure, we can’t complain. We also go swimming (I’ve already learned four strokes); we have a bowling alley, fixed bar, double horizontal bars, ten and twenty kilo weights, and can sleep till ten every morning. I’ve even become an accomplished chess player, and often spend my evenings and nights playing till twelve or one. You know there is a library for each battery; I’m the librarian and have no lack of reading material. Did I tell you that Frans Janssens (you probably knew him in Saint-Lô) moved to the 60th as gunner on my cannon? Lejour became a first lieutenant fourteen days ago. I’ve been ready to go on leave for the past three months, and I still haven’t left – It’s getting very warm in Nice now so I’ll probably postpone it till winter. That’s all the news I have, my dearest Tintin. I hope you’ll send me more news. I extend a paw of friendship, Rodolphe Horse-drawn artillery The Final Offensive Looms Eu-St-Quentin August 1st 1918 Dear Alice, So you arrived safe and sound in Shortlands? That’s good! Give my regards to the entire Eglington family. When is the daughter getting married, and what is her future husband’s name? I’ll have to send my best wishes. While you are in London, you should visit the Captain; he would never forgive you if he heard you had been there without visiting him. I certainly can’t complain now that I’m in Eu. The meals in the mess are good. Outstanding soup each lunchtime, meat (never dry), potatoes and vegetables and sometimes there is even dessert. In the evenings we are served cheese or meat with soup. Breakfast is usually coffee with milk, butter, cheese or winter radishes Sauce of black radish roots with a mustard taste (raphanus sativus niger, in French: raifort). To top it off, all that is made almost as well as it would be in Deganwy! To answer your question, I spend my days keeping an eye on the men and making sure they are working well. In my spare time I explore the countryside on my horse. Despite all this I still prefer the front where there is less discipline and a bit more freedom. Dear Alice, many kisses from your loving brother, Valentin Eu-St-Quentin August 5th 1918 My dearest Mother, The letter you sent from London arrived safely. You were right not to tell the Singers and the Knowles that you were going to be there. They might think that... and that’s none of their business! I told you that I would be going to a French wedding, and I did. It was the wedding of a soldier and friend, Jean Neels, to a French girl. He asked if I would be a witness. I accepted and bought a wallet as a gift. And so I stood with the family at 9 o’clock while they began to panic at the late arrival of the coaches. They arrived eventually, large family coaches which they call ‘tapissières’. All aboard, and off to the ‘maire’ Mayor. It was the usual ceremony but to me it was exciting because it was the first time I had ever been involved in something like that. Next was the church and a sermon delivered by the local priest, followed by a visit to a café for an aperitif with the entire party, including ladies and young ladies, and two older gentlemen with white ties, tail coats and top hats. After a wonderful ‘déjeuner’ Lunch it was back into the ‘tapissières’ for a ‘promenade’ to and through the nearby hamlets, where drinks and receptions followed. I needn’t mention that the few young men were very popular with the dear young French ladies! Finally we had dinner; I left the party around midnight and was back in base by 1 o’clock. It was an unforgettable day, and... most importantly, so much tasty food and drink! Mother dear, please write some more; I enjoy reading your letters! Hugs, Valentin August 11th 1918 My dear Mother, I’m taking advantage of the fact that it is Sunday to write to you. I’m on duty all day and there is nothing to do. It’s incredibly boring. Next Sunday will be better, I hope! I’ve been here three weeks now, and that’s starting to seem very long, especially as all leave is constantly being postponed for any and every sort of reason. The situation here is much improved since the Germans were driven out of Amiens: the rail connection between Calais and Paris has been restored. I tried to get 48 hours’ leave to look up Uncle Pierre in Paris Plage, but the short leaves have been disallowed because too many soldiers come back a day or two late. Armand Bonne congratulated me on my new rank. I’m glad there are currently two people on leave with you in Deganwy. Aunt Eudoxie’s children must be there too? It has been two years now since I last saw them, as our time off never matches up! Give them all my regards and enjoy the beach, the tent and the sea together. There is an interesting man in my battery. He is a soldier, but in civilian life he was an engineer. He spent a long time as a spy in Belgium. Last year in August he was even operating out of Ostend to locate the gun batteries. I tried to find out from him how our home and Aunt Eudoxie and Uncle Emile’s patisserie fared during the bombings, but he doesn’t know Ostend that well and couldn’t really say. At the time not that much of the town had been destroyed, except for a few houses here and there along the fishermen’s wharf. There was also damage in the area of the gas works and near the third basin. The worst destruction was from a bomb which fell on St. Peter and St. Paul’s Church killing 80 people. Apparently the Germans are dismantling and stripping half the country: everything that is iron, bronze or copper. Door handles, statues and lanterns are all disappearing. Anything they can’t take away from factories is destroyed with hammers. He also spent quite a long time in the Netherlands and says that the food situation there is even worse than here. The Dutch have an acute fear of war and give an impression of cowardice. The Protestants lean towards the allied side; the army does too. But the infantry and the Catholics in the south of the country are quite pro-German. The carts in Brussels are pulled by oxen. When they tire, the beasts lie down and won’t get up again till they want to, despite the best efforts of the drivers. The activist campaigns Pro-German meetings promoting Flemish independence and an end to the war. are not serious at all and are almost unnoticed in Belgium. If we hear that there was a well attended meeting you can be sure that it was announced as something entirely different. Of course by the time the true intent of the meeting is revealed the doors are guarded and people are trapped and forced to attend. He was genuinely very surprised that such a fuss is made here about this well-known activist movement. It’s barely worth mentioning. Once again, many kisses from your son, Valentin On September 2nd the training period in the military camp at Eu ended. It had taken one and a half months to complete. Men, cannons and horses were all loaded into cattle trucks. There were many delays along the way due to the heavy traffic on the railway; this was fortunate as many of the men suffered from dysentery. They finally arrived in Diksmuide only to continue instruction while the cannons were set up. Almost immediately after he arrived, Valentin received his long-awaited leave papers, allowing him his first true break in seven months. Those seven months had been a crazy mix of hectic weeks, periods of absolute idleness and boredom, followed by hard work and fierce enthusiasm, all of which blended into a colourless, soulless and vague stage set in Valentin’s memory. From September 10th to the 24th the newly appointed sergeant enjoyed time with his mother, sister, aunt and cousins in Deganwy, allowing them to spoil him as he had never been spoiled before. While Valentin was on leave, an unsettling letter arrived from Belgium. Marguerite Beemelmans, a cousin, sent a letter detailing the behaviour of the sales women in ‘In het Anker’, their collaboration with the Germans, their questionable financial practices and the sudden invasion of the aunts who went in to take control of the situation. In Folkestone Valentin met his cousin Henri Van Graefschepe who had been relieved of duty due to injury and was awaiting his repatriation. The sea journey to Calais left Valentin seriously sea-sick, but he arrived back at his post by September 29th just in time for the beginning of the big and final offensive. Journal notes Tuesday September 27th 1918 I arrived in Calais yesterday, dog tired and still seasick. Back at the front today. Tomorrow is the beginning of the offensive. The French are arriving en masse. The battery will take a stand in front of Diksmuide. It is our division, the 4th Army Division, which will have the honour of initiating the attack. In the first phase the 4th Army Division didn’t act as an army division but was divided and merged into the 4th Infantry Division which remained in the north (behind water), and the 10th Infantry Division which attacked at the Blankaart nature reserve in Woumen and Merkem. Journal notes Wednesday September 28th 1918 The battery is in Kruis-Abeele. On the way there I met Tubbax with his new cannon. Last night, during the offensive, a shell landed on one of our guns: Monteyne and two others are dead and the commander is wounded; I will probably have to replace him. September 29th 1918 My dear Mother, Thanks to all of you for the wonderful holiday I spent with you. I had a fantastic time and am now back in top form. I arrived in Diksmuide just on time. The offensive is under way. At the moment I am at the command line and we are preparing to march. We are working like men possessed, day and night, motivated and happy, because the end of the war is near and we feel no fatigue. Thank you, Alice, for the biscuits you hid in my coat; I was on watch last night and found them just as I got as hungry as a hunter. Kisses to all, Valentin Journal notes Sunday October 8th 1918 After several days of hesitation, orders and counter orders, we finally left to go to Klerken where we set up the battery. We are camping out in the open. We passed over the wooden bridge that comes out in Woumen. Everything has been destroyed here. I get the impression that the Belgians shoot more accurately than the Germans. It is cold and damp in the tent but our morale is good. There is little reaction from the Germans. I managed to get my hands on a paper in which I read that the Germans are asking for a truce. But at this stage I think we should fight to the end! October 8th 1918 Dear Mother, This is a very short letter, just to let you know that we have finally crossed the River Yzer. We had to wait to give the swampy ground time to dry out enough to allow the passage of our cannons. We are on the other side now, and the view is depressing; everything has been destroyed. We sleep in our tents, which is far from fun these days as it rains so much and the ground is still very wet! Luckily this area is no longer flooded. I’m on duty all week and have to clear the place; what a task! I hope we will continue on soon. The Germans are asking for a truce, but we would prefer to continue fighting. I’m staying at the command line again, but that’s only ten minutes from the guns. Kisses to everyone, Valentin PS: Sad news for my friend Willy Tubbax: his brother Joseph was killed this afternoon. Ruins of MerkemThe Advance October 12th 1918 My precious Son, I was so very happy, my dearest Tintin, to receive your letter this morning. Nevertheless, no matter how many times you repeat that you are not in danger, I will always fear that something could happen, up to the very last moment. You know that Henri Schollaert (Ward 10, Belgian Military Hospital, Bourbourg) and his good friend J. Volschaert were both very badly wounded. We have had no word from our cousin Octave since the offensive began. My dearest son, please send me a letter every day. You know me - I am nervous, oversensitive and dreadfully cut up by it all. I am in a chronic state of anxiety. I will just say one more thing. You are far too brave! I am proud of you but also very scared for you! Your adoring mother. Journal notes Sunday October 13th 1918 It’s a miserable day; more rain. The water is soaking through our tents and canvas. Poor Joseph Tubbax will be buried this afternoon in Hoogstade. I wish I were able to be there, but the offensive might begin at any moment. If only we could leave this wretched and inhospitable terrain behind us! Journal notes Monday October 14th 1918 Finally the offensive i.e. the second phase of the offensive has begun! This morning the German prisoners reached our sector. One of them was shot. There must have been at least 800 passing through, those with minor wounds among them. It is said that Kortemark has been taken, but we cannot be sure of anything. We are in a state of constant readiness. Saw Jef De Landsheere. October 15th 1918 Dear Mother, You ask me to write to everyone, but I don’t have a second to spare. The easy-going life at the front is a thing of the past! We are now camped far beyond the Yzer and are advancing quickly. Ostend was liberated yesterday; the tidings were brought in by planes that showered our battery with news sheets. The Germans are running so fast I can’t even fire at them anymore! I got the jam and matches that you sent back with Armand Bonne. Please send me paper and envelopes; there are none to be found here. Don’t forget to include the pictures of our time together in Deganwy. Alice, I haven’t had a chance to find a dictionary for you yet. Uncle Jerôme sent me a package from Aardenburg. We are all very excited here; not one of us is sure what is going on; there are no newspapers and no reliable reports. Your loving son, Valentin Journal notes Tuesday October 15th 1918 Our squad is leaving today. The 1st Battery is already under way. We were attacked by planes with machine guns this morning. A bullet passed through my tent. I have to go to Hoogstade to pick up another cannon. Journal notes Wednesday October 16th 1918 I left Hoogstade at half past eight and arrived in Klerken at one o’clock; our battery is already under way to Zarren. The command post is at the windmill. I have good lodgings in a house. There are incredible rumours going around: Torhout liberated, the line between Brugge and Gent within range of our artillery. We no longer need to fire because the front has already moved on. Journal notes Thursday October 17th 1918 Got up at 1 o’clock to leave at half past four, destination unknown. Tubbax came to get me; we placed the battery between Kortemark and Torhout and have the Germans in range. While under way we found out that Ostend, Bruges and Kortrijk have been liberated. We met some locals; there are houses on fire everywhere; it is a terrible sight to behold. On October 18th Uncle Emile sent a letter from Ostend to his wife Eudoxie who was waiting impatiently in Deganwy for her repatriation. Ostend, October 18th 1918 My dearest wife and children, Hip hip hooray! The hateful Germans have left and our dear Allies are here. What happiness, what joy; the population of Ostend is ecstatic! First things first: I must tell you that I find myself in excellent health, and the same goes for the rest of the family, Irma, Charles and the children. Miss Augusta returned to Gent; she was too afraid of the bombs here. Despite all the bombardments, we have been extremely lucky here, between the corner of Kapellestraat and the Van Mullem shop, not to suffer even a single broken window. Moulaert’s house has been completely destroyed. There were no direct hits at Juliette’s shop,’In het Anker’, but the windows and display windows are smashed. Wapenplein, Groentenmarkt and Kaaistraat have suffered incredible amounts of damage. Vercamer has fled to Germany to seek her fiancé, the vixen! I hope she will be severely punished. Germaine has been in Bruges since last year. The other two sales women are still here. All the merchandise is sold, or as good as, and the money is in the bank. My dearest family, I am awaiting you all with greatest impatience. Do everything possible to be among the first people to get back home! I expect no less from you, my brave Valentin, get home as quickly as you can, and René De Vleeschouwer; oh my brave boys, hurry, hurry! Write to me soon to let me know how you are. It has been so long since I have heard anything. Emile There were also delighted responses from English friends of the family to the news of the liberation of Ostend. Daniel Singer, Valentin’s war godfather, sent a letter from London wishing Valentin’s mother both luck and happiness. Liberation of Ostend by British troops (October 17th, 1918) October 18th 1918 My dear Madame Dewaele. The news recently has given me infinite pleasure, and I should like to congratulate you on the great event – the recovery of Ostend. It will probably be several months yet before you are able to return but time passes so rapidly in these days it will not seem very long, I think, before you are at home again. I earnestly hope that dear Valentin will soon be restored to you and that no harm has come to any of your belongings so that you will all be soon reunited in happiness in your own home. I shall look forward to the privilege of calling on you there at an early date. I am, with all good wishes. Yours Very Sincerely, Daniel Singer Journal notes Friday October 18th 1918 We are passing through Torhout on the way to Ruddervoorde. There are flags everywhere; the locals are friendly. Journal notes Saturday October 19th 1918 We push on at 4 o’clock in the afternoon and reach Rappaert Castle in Hertsberge which is like a pigsty following the German occupation. We are staying in the drawing room. The Germans put up a resistance here and it was our battery that fired on their position and drove them out. They have moved on out of range. Following the liberation the people here are almost crazy with joy and they bellow blood-curdling insults when they see the German prisoners of war pass by. Journal notes Sunday October 20th 1918 Quiet day in the Castle spent listening to the piano. In the evening they told us to be ready for an early start in the morning. Journal notes Monday October 21st 1918 Left at 5 o’clock this morning and arrived at Bellem by 2 o’clock. We were supposed to go to Aalter but received a counter order telling us to stop. Everything in the town clerk’s house in Aalter is being destroyed; the man was in league with the enemy. Nice lodgings in a farm kitchen. Journal notes Tuesday October 22nd 1918 Things are no longer going so well; the Germans don’t want to go. They are firing almost continuously on the entire area. The farmers are scared; we are trying to soothe them as best we can. The supply train and reinforcements have been left behind. We moved forward too fast. Tomorrow we are taking a step back; we are under heavy fire. Deganwy October 22nd 1918 My dearest Son, We have taken the first steps toward our return to Ostend. We are tidying the cottage, cleaning everything and beginning to pack. But tell me, what’s happening with you? Ostend has been liberated for a week and you don’t mention it at all. Please go there, immediately, now, don’t wait another moment! How does the house look? What about the furniture? Are the display windows broken? Is there any stock available? Is our silver still there? Has the wine cellar been emptied? We send a letter to Ostend every day and receive no answer! I want to know the truth about the current situation, and whatever has happened I will bear it, but I absolutely must know! I am extremely wound up; there are constant irritating discussions with your aunt Eudoxie. Everything is focused on our return. I want to be back amongst my things; you understand? Is it not awful what we have had to endure? Your dear father died when we had been married for a mere six years. And then after twenty-five years of hard work I’m forced to leave my business and my home and be harassed by war. And you at the front in this awful war! In the meantime I sit here, powerless, waiting, and they will not let me return home. So I beg you, run to Ostend, do everything you can to get there, and let me know what the situation is. I won’t last here much longer! But most of all, give me advice and look out for your own safety! Be extremely careful, nothing is more valuable to me than your life! Your adoring mother P.S. Should I move to London, to be nearer the government and hopefully receive my travel papers sooner? October 25th 1918 My dearest sweet Mother, I am so happy that Ostend has been liberated! But unfortunately there is absolutely no way I can get there right now. We are advancing each day; if I were to stay away for even one day I would lose my battery and be considered a deserter. I have already written some letters to people in Ostend, but there is so little time to write. We passed through Torhout which has been very badly damaged but flags have been put out everywhere. The people of the town had small tri-colours fastened in their button-holes, and laughed and smiled with us despite their suffering and the destruction of their town. In the villages even the poorest houses are decorated with flags; they hid them well during the war. The farmers lost everything to the passing Germans; there are few who managed to keep any of their harvest or livestock hidden. At this point we have passed Oostkamp and are camping at Rappaert Castle. We slept in the drawing room and I am trying to think above the dreadful noise of the men trying to play the piano. The Germans were resisting here and it was our battery that was forced to fire at the castle. They dirtied everything; it’s like a pigsty in here. They even used the chapel to stable their horses. I will do everything I can to travel to Ostend as soon as I possibly can, even if I have to do it without permission, but it has to be possible before I can attempt it. Travel to Ostend is only permitted if you have direct family there. Very many kisses, also to Aunt and the little ones, Valentin October 27th 1918 Dearest Mother, Despite the fact that my captain would not give me permission I have finally reached Ostend. I went without sleep and was underway for 24 hours, 50km on foot and a further 50 by bike! I went to Bruges first to see Aunt Alixe and Uncle Alphonse De Neve. Aunt Alixe lent me a bike which I used to get to Ostend. The family is well, except for Uncle Jules who was taken by the Germans. I discovered our home and shop in an awful state. Luckily Aunt Maria, Aunt Lena, Aunt Marie and Uncle Emile tried to save what could be saved. As we already knew, that Vercamer woman was engaged to a German. When he was gone she took another one for a while. The same goes for Germaine who was pregnant and left with her German. Jeanne and Berthile also allowed themselves to be swept along by that harridan. Basically, our home had become the biggest brothel in town. Vercamer sold our goods and pocketed the money herself. Our family couldn’t intervene because you hadn’t given them power of attorney. It’s a good thing that Aunt Maria and Aunt Lena invaded the store and managed to take charge of 100,000 francs and some stock, but not a lot. Eventually, the whole lot of them left for fear of the bombs. The family immediately moved in and removed whatever furniture and stock was left in the house, before the Germans could take it all. Everything we have left is stored in four separate houses. Vercamer and her German were spotted in Gent. Could you not lodge a complaint against her with the attorney general in Bruges? She must have taken a lot more of our money. No regrets mother; it’s true we lost a lot of money but that’s not irreplaceable. If you had stayed in Ostend we may not have lost as much but we could have lost something much more valuable. The fear for your children would have eaten you up inside and much worse things could have happened. Our house is still there, the furniture is safe and we will be able to get back to work and open the store soon. There isn’t a metre of fabric to be found in Ostend. Buy what you can in England and order the rest from France; we need fabrics, shirts, cotton and linen. I will try to get to Tielt as soon as possible to check if Vande Vyvere and Impe have anything left to sell. If you give me a few names and addresses in France I can try there too. Our rent was paid up until April. Our neighbours, the Van Keyserswerts, were always extremely helpful to our family in their fight against the chaos. You wouldn’t believe what Albine and her mother got up to; Marschalk substituted Albine for his wife. They played host to the entire German command while Albine’s mother brought out jugged hare and pastry. To get back to my trip: I was welcomed with open arms wherever I went, and a good thing it is too. I breakfasted with Aunt Alixe in Bruges, and later on I lunched with Uncle Emile Libert who is still making pastries. Further on I had coffee with Aunt Maria, Aunt Marie and Jeanne. Finally, I had dinner with Aunt Alixe back in Bruges, and Uncle Alphonse gave me a box of fine cigars to take to the front. Now back to our problematic personnel: only one remained faithful and didn’t follow the crowd: Alida. We will keep her on and restart the business with her help. That was the complete report of my trip to Ostend. Fortunately my captain at Rappaert Castle didn’t notice my absence, or pretended not to. To you and all in Deganwy special kisses. Valentin Liverpool, October 28th 1918 Dear Valentin, Did you get the small gift I sent you for Valentine’s Day? I think of you a lot! Make sure you don’t catch the Spanish flu. Whole shiploads of American soldiers arrive here in Liverpool, and most of them seem to have the Spanish flu The Spanish flu or Influenza pandemic was the most devastating one in human history. Americans arriving in Europe are thought to have brought it with them. The cause is unknown. It came in successive waves between March and December 1918. The most lethal type, with pneumonia, emerged in August 1918 Half a million people died in the US, and approximately 25 millions across the world.. Some arrive here only to be embalmed and sent back for burial. Be very careful: as soon as you feel anything, the slightest fever even, go straight to bed, get warm and stay there for at least 24 hours eating a small amount of food. It is a very dangerous disease. So please, please, please be careful. It usually develops into a lung infection and in most cases that is fatal. I’ll leave it at that. More news next week. Alice November 11th 1918: Ceasefire Journal notes Wednesday November 6th 1918 Up at 3 o’clock and under way by 7 o’clock. Word is that we are going to Deurle, passing through Nevele on the famous canal. Nevele is almost completely levelled. Long wait on the Kortrijk-Gent road. We spent the night in a shed in De Pinte. Journal notes Thursday November 7th 1918 Advance from De Pinte, followed by a return to De Pinte. It’s crawling with men from the rangers battalion. After a thorough search and a lot of effort I found a shed to spend the night in. Journal notes Friday November 8th 1918 A succession of shells on the village. Heavy attack to the south. Hopefully the ceasefire will come soon... Rainy weather. Journal notes Saturday November 9th 1918 Better weather. The Germans are no longer firing. A lot of traffic on the roads. Journal notes Sunday November 10th 1918 Heavy attack this morning. Journal notes Monday November 11th 1918 Around 8 o’clock we hear that the cease-fire is set for 11 o’clock. News to go crazy about… I am on the way to Bellem to get munitions. It is raining but we are very happy. Back in the evening, soaking wet. View of the original page in Valentin’s diary: Vers huit heures nous apprenons que l’armistice est conclue et commence à 11 heures. C’est à en perdre la raison… De Pinte, November 13th 1918 My dearest Mother, Hooray, the war has finally ended, and to top it all off, I am sound in body and mind. That’s what counts! From now on you no longer need to worry about me. Let’s hope you will be able to return to Ostend soon and then our good fortune will be complete. I can understand that you and Aunt are impatient to be home. We are still stuck here in the same place, jumping up and down in frustration, waiting to be unleashed to liberate the rest of Belgium. I am also waiting for more writing paper. Many kisses, Valentin Z80 – 1st Squad – 3rd Battery [Z80 = code number of the 16th Artillery Regiment] Journal notes Monday November 18th 1918 We are finally getting out of De Pinte, heading south of Gent to Dendermonde. There are flags and relieved faces everywhere. In Overmere we were welcomed by extremely hospitable people. I even have a good bed, which I share with my friend Violon. What a reception! The bells are ringing, there are flags and lanterns everywhere, and big signs saying things like ‘Welcome to our brave heroes’, ‘Long live the King’ and ‘Long live the Allies’. Journal notes Wednesday November 20th 1918 From Overmere to Baasrode. Lodged with very nice people; I’ll be able to sleep in a bed again. We are drinking hot chocolate! The horses are stabled about quarter of an hour away in a brick-yard. Journal notes Saturday November 23rd 1918 From Baasrode to Mechelen, with lodgings in the barracks. I tasted that nice beer in the evening. Baasrode, November 23rd 1918 Dearest Mother, I am very concerned that you are still so depressed. With the two of us and Alice, we will be back on track very quickly! Buy from Debenhams in London; don’t let the prices deter you: there is simply nothing to be had here. The Germans even took the machines out of the factories. Write to the bank in Ostend asking for a guarantee. Take that to Mr Knowles and borrow what you can. I won’t get leave to go to Ostend, and I won’t get a chance to see the family in Brussels either. Right now we are in Baasrode, just above Dendermonde. The population is receiving us royally. We are lodging with people in their homes and are being spoilt to the point of pleasure: a good bed and plenty of good food and drink. Apparently we are on the way to Germany. I got a letter from Daniel Vercamer; he is ashamed of his sister’s behaviour. You are right to base yourself in London. You might get to Ostend faster that way. Unfortunately the harbour is still closed. It seems people may have to wait up to several months to return. All I can advise is patience. My best kisses to you, Valentin Journal notes Sunday November 24th 1918 En route to Tremelo. This small town was reduced to ashes at the start of the war. Many of the houses were rebuilt. My munitions wagon and I are lodged with kindly people who help me look after the horses, removing their harness, watering them, etc. We are spoilt and waited on as if we were all princes. Journal notes Monday November 25th 1918 En route to Rillaar via Aarschot. The Germans really cleaned up here in 1914: mass murders and destruction. The people here certainly have stories to tell! Journal notes Tuesday November 26th 1918 En route to Kempt passing through Diest, Halen and Heren. There are flags and garlands everywhere. The village bands play the Brabançonne as we go past. We are spending the night in the kitchen of a small farm. Kempt (Limburg), November 26th 1918 My dearest Mother, I haven’t written to you in a while, but you no longer have anything to fear. We travel every day and are crossing the country step by step en route to Germany. At the moment we are staying in Kempt which is about an hour away from Hasselt. We stayed in Mechelen for one night and were able to spend some time in the town during the evening. The atmosphere was incredible; it was pre-war; all the lanterns were lit and there was music on every street corner, and beer in excess. The following day we departed, destination Tremelo, and after that Rillaart, and finally Kempt. The population is fantastic, it was a real pilgrimage! We are lodged in private homes again and really can’t complain at all. All villages and towns are swathed in flags and I can’t keep count of how many triumphal arches we have passed through! So, you are in London! Well done! It should be a bit easier to organise your return from there. It’s also nice that you are back with Alice. Forget our misfortune in Ostend! If you had stayed much worse things could have happened! And isn’t it a miracle that all three of us are in good health, and I got through this awful war without a scratch? A heartfelt hug for my sweetest Mother, and dear big sister! Valentin Valentin’s mother had arrived in London. Her host family was extremely hospitable. She bought goods for her store wherever they were available, but always in small amounts and very carefully as the prices were very high. London was a wonderful place to live, an entirely different experience from living in Deganwy! She requested that Valentin send at least one letter per week to his aunt Eudoxie who remained in Deganwy for the time being, “otherwise she would take it amiss!” The trip back was very difficult to plan. She had travel tickets but was not allowed to travel with luggage, which would mean putting everything in storage and trying to get it transported later, but when could that happen? For an extra 1500 francs, she could take luggage, but in three weeks time she would be able to sail on the ferry and take all her luggage and goods free of charge. The trip was postponed and she continued to buy trade goods such as handkerchiefs, cotton, flags, madapolam An Indian cotton, towels, tablecloths, children’s dresses and coats, skirts and travel cloaks to restart business in her store ‘In het Anker’. Journal notes Wednesday November 27th 1918 In Vliermaal. I stayed on a farm on the outskirts of the village where the family was very hospitable. We were greeted and cheered warmly in Hasselt. Journal notes Thursday November 28th 1918 En route to Vrezen via Tongeren. The people here are not as friendly and speak a type of German dialect. Journal notes Sunday December 1st 1918 We were in Barchon yesterday, a whole lot of men on one big farm. The village is very badly damaged. We moved on and passed through Herstal and Wandre. Beautiful undulating scenery. Today we are in Thimistère where we were received as never before: there was a soldier’s welcome at 3 o’clock, expansive speech by the mayor and a patriotic answer from the colonel, farandoles Folk dances through the entire village, music, and song and dance until late at night. Two other towns we passed today, Herve and Battice, were burnt to the ground. Stayed with kind people. To Germany Journal notes Monday December 2nd 1918 Off to Welkenraedt today. We stayed with Germans at the border. They are very polite to us, but they are cowed and hypocritical, they are scared and creep around. Another big patriotic gathering this afternoon in Welkenraedt. On the Belgian side of the street there is a profusion of flags, portraits of the King and Queen, placards and garlands, while on the German side there is nothing. It feels very strange. Journal notes Tuesday December 3rd 1918 En route to Mülheim. We paraded in Aachen. There were a lot of spectators but they didn’t look particularly pleased... The women on the other hand are friendly, they smile and call out greetings. We are sleeping in heavenly beds and are staying with nice people. Journal notes Thursday December 5th 1918 En route to Eschweiler through the Stolberg area which is industrial. We are staying with a fat, kind, scared lady and are sleeping in a very soft bed. The horses are stabled in a brick-works. Journal notes Saturday December 7th 1918 We commandeered horses yesterday, and today the journey is taking us through Jüllich to Boich. Godeaux and I are staying in a neat house: bedroom and drawing room, service included... It is a large village, but there aren’t many cafés. Journal notes Sunday December 8th 1918 Confined to quarters: there were armed raids. We had a tasty meal with our host family. Journal notes Monday December 9th 1918 We rode through Jüchen. The General Staff are here. We are staying with a wealthy farmer in a small village, 14 men downstairs and the commander and adjutant upstairs. I have a good bed. Journal notes Tuesday December 10th 1918 Departure to Krefeld. We stopped at a farm near the town. My three drivers and I are sleeping here tonight. We have two beds and a dining room and were served dinner this evening. The area is called Ficheln. Journal notes Wednesday December 11th 1918 Big military display for General De Ceunink, in Krefeld. It’s nice here, and more importantly, they give us good food. Marguerite Beemelmans, a cousin from Brussels, wrote Valentin a letter from the liberated capital: Brussels, December 9th 1918 My dear Valentin, I would dearly love to receive news from you. I am writing ‘Service Militaire’ on the envelope as I heard that this is the only way to ensure that it will arrive. We are extremely worried about you! When the first troops entered Brussels and the bell rang we all jumped up in the hope we would see our little soldier – what am I saying: our glorious soldier! – appear at the door. Why did you never write to us? Did my letters never arrive? Was the address wrong? May this letter finally reach you! Firstly my heartfelt good wishes, my brave cousin, and good health to your sister the nurse. I shout hip hip hooray for our brave little Belgians, our treasured Allies, long live our great King and our dear Queen! You must have many stories to tell! Enough to fill entire volumes I bet! Four long years without news of each other! What an awful bloodbath this war has been! We thought of you often, during each offensive, and every time we heard the cannons, we said ‘What about Valentin, where is he now? Let us hope nothing happens to him!’ but thank God, your guardian angel did his work! Aunt Citje (Eudoxie) sent us a group photo with you in it, you look so well! I bet you’ll have success with the Gretchen Girls in Germany. I hope you won’t be angry that I wrote that? Valentin, please tell me now, where are you? Where were you? Were you often at the front? What regiment were you in? I think I can see a number sixteen on your epaulet in the photo. We are craving for news from you. Granny, who is living with us till she can return to Ostend, is also very impatient for tidings from you. She is eighty-two now, complains a lot, but is vigorous. In what state did you find your house in Ostend? We knew that the Vercamer woman, in the company of her German gentlemen, was acting as if she owned ‘In het Anker’ and was throwing money about. I could only think of you, your room, your office, your books and stamps, what’s left of all that? Did you know she actually came here to say goodbye to Aunt Hélène before she left for Germany? She was in mourning for her brother. First, Aunt pretended not to know her, and when she said she was Maria Vercamer, Aunt said she wasn’t leaving a moment too soon! Then the Liberation came. Despite being very weak, I saw the King and his troops enter Brussels. What a celebration! People were going crazy! I watched the last of the Germans leave: dirty, dressed in rags with bicycles and carts, pulling their own wagons like horses. And the people were screaming curses at them; it was ‘Nach Berlin’ to Berlin instead of ‘Nach Paris’! Quite a contrast from the monocled, whip-carrying brats we saw at the start of the war! I painted an ashtray for you back in 1915; it was one of a bunch I painted for the injured soldiers that I visited regularly in the royal palace. How is Jean Meyer? And poor Henri Van Graefschepe? Any news from the Verhoevens? Alfons is back from Holland. We are expecting Edgar and Valentine any day now. So, Tintin, you will write me a long letter, with a photo, or you will get a good talking-to the first time we meet again! A deep curtsy and a big kiss, Margot Krefeld December 12th 1918 Dearest Mother, Any news on the return to Ostend? Do try to take the luggage with you! Has Cockerill put boats back on his Tilbury-Ostend line? Try to find out! Don’t let the fabric prices worry you: 100 francs for a metre of fabric in Belgium, 400 francs for a gentleman’s suit, and here in Germany I saw sateen for 10.50 marks per metre, fabric for a gown 36 marks per metre, a collar for 3 marks, a tie for 12 marks and a girl’s apron in an ugly red brown sateen for 26 marks. Most articles are ten times the price they were in 1914! So you see the articles in England are not that expensive; we will have to get used to the new prices. Could you send me ink tablets and a diary for 1919? And pictures of me that I can forward to the family? I can get writing paper here. We have spent the last three weeks moving around non-stop; it seems our journey is over now. We will stay in Germany for six weeks, and then return to Belgium where we will have the weekends free. I am now on a decent enough wage of 22.40 francs per week; I can even save a bit now. Have you visited Singer, Knowles and Gravener yet? Tell me about what you’ve been doing in London. How is Alice getting on? When will she write me a letter? The post takes about ten days. Long, isn’t it? Many kisses for you and Alice, Valentin Journal notes December 13th 1918 We are departing for Osterath, which is about 5km from here. We are leaving Ficheln against our will. Our new location is very badly organised. I had to look for my own lodging. I was lucky: friendly people and a good soft bed. The horses are stabled nearby. Journal notes December 15th 1918 Moving again, this time to Willich, an extended village with a large factory. We are so fed up with this eternal moving! The horses are dispersed amongst the local farms, and the men are lodged all over the village. The people are very kind (out of fear). We share their food; they live well. In the evening we went to a dance at the neighbours’ house where Tubbax is lodged; it was great fun. It seems we will stay here for a while. Journal notes December 17th 1918 Off to Krefeld on the tram every evening. No lack of fun! Willich, December 19th 1918 My dearest Mother, First and foremost I want to wish both yourself and Alice a Very Merry and Happy Christmas. It will be the fifth year that we are unable to celebrate it together but at least we have no more serious worries, the war is over and we are all alive and healthy. I wrote to Singer, Knowles, Gravener and the entire family in Belgium for Christmas and New Year. I am preparing to celebrate Christmas in Germany. I am now at my final destination, namely Willich, a village which is only a short distance from Krefeld. There is a tram to Krefeld which I take every evening; we have great fun there! The tram is free for us. The weather is awful here, but what do rain and cold matter when you have a roof over your head, a warm fire, a soft bed and a well- covered table? I am lodged with a family. They are incredibly friendly! They wash my sheets, polish my boots, bring me my slippers, place food on the table; it’s a real pleasure. The change in mentality is unbelievable. We hate them and they probably hate us, but nobody seems to care, we have fun together, and we laugh and party like maniacs. They are preparing everything for the Christmas celebration. There isn’t much food left but the cakes are piling up in the cellar, cognac is being smuggled in and presents are accumulating in the drawing room. Everything is staying locked but I think we will be celebrating with them! There is no more real soldier’s life to live. The uniform is all that is left. We forget about the rest; the war is over anyway! The mark is only worth 70 pfennigs now. Many kisses, Valentin Grandmother Haverland also sent a short note to her grandson. Brussels, December 20th 1918 Dear Valentin, It is a great pity that it was impossible for you to come to Brussels; there is nothing we can do about it; your duty before all, my dear child. We all long to embrace you, most especially your grandmother who started her eighty-third year this New Year. I hope that God allows me to see and hug all my children and grandchildren once more; that is my greatest desire, I cannot but allow the tears to flow even while writing this. I think I shall be in Ostend soon. Were it summer I would be there already. There are few trains; one must go to the station the day before to purchase a ticket for the train which leaves at six in the morning and does not arrive in Ostend until six in the evening. I send my blessing and a thousand kisses Your grandmother Haverland PS: When you write to your mother please remind her not to forget my request: a razor for ladies; your mother promised it to me before she left for England in 1914. Willich January 2nd 1919 My dear Mother, New Year has passed. I passionately hope that we will be happily reunited this year. Yesterday, January 1st, was a beautiful sunny day. May that be a good omen. In the meantime, we celebrated New Years Eve with the family where I am staying. They brought in a barrel of beer and some cognac. The beer doesn’t make you drunk (we drank the entire barrel) because it is chemically fabricated. We ate, celebrated, laughed and danced till four in the morning. With Germans! Who could have imagined that would be possible? I am really treated like a son of the family; they worry if I don’t eat enough, and let me tell you, they eat a lot more here than they do in England! In the evening they never sit at table till I get home and they seem glad I’m there. I saw René Van Haeck recently. The poor boy has had terrible luck; his mother and sister are dead and his father and brother wounded. Their farm by the Leie was destroyed during a bombing raid. There was very heavy fighting in that area. Meanwhile I really have no reason to complain. My dear mother and Alice, many hugs, Valentin Before the war Valentin’s sister had an English nanny who was married to Eugène. The children called her ‘Miss’. On January 2nd she sent a letter to Alice describing the situation in Ostend. Rue Guimard 11, Gand 2-1-1919 My dearest Alice, I was happy to receive your letter! Yes, please do call me Miss or Old Thing as you used to. There are others who do the same. Eugène and I went to Ostend last Monday and visited Miss Marie and Lena Haverland: “Hello Miss from long ago” - that’s how they greeted us. And we had a long conversation about this and that. Of course we had already heard the news about Miss Vercamer and the other saleswomen; now we know the details. Who would have thought it, especially as Mrs Dewaele trusted her so? No, we didn’t see her in Gent; otherwise I could have strangled her. Afterwards we passed by ‘In het Anker’; everything is locked up there, the walls are somewhat damaged by shrapnel and so are the windows, but the furniture is safe with the family. As you can see on the enclosed picture postcard a bomb must have landed next door, destroying the chemist Halewyck’s house. Ostend suffered terribly during the war, most especially from the lighthouse to the Kursaal. The Royal Lodge has not been damaged but the Royal Galleries and the Royal Palace Hotel are a sad sight, windows broken, gates and doors removed, and three cannons at the front on the promenade. The gardens and greenhouses have disappeared. We wanted to venture out onto the pier but a policeman stopped us; there were military installations on it and the damage is serious. There are large holes where the Germans placed their artillery along the entire length of the promenade. Really, those awful Germans have truly gone to town on our dear Ostend. Many homes are destroyed. I am including another two picture postcards to show how St. Peter and St. Paul’s Church looked after the bombings: bodies everywhere, even a small child. We bought some currant bread, 2.50 francs each. Before the war they were only 0.50 francs. I didn’t recognise Kapellestraat; most shops were closed. We stayed in the Hôtel de la Couronne. There was a broken window in our room which was repaired with a piece of linoleum with a hole in it; you can imagine how cold we were! The next day we went to Bruges, a dirty little town, not at all interesting, and now we are considering leaving Gent for good around the 20th of this month and moving to Brussels. In any case please tell your mother that we are ready to help as soon as she is back in Ostend. You want to know what we did for all these years? Well the day before the Hun entered Ostend we fled to Nieuwpoort where a trawler took us on board and transported us to Calais, which meant two days without food, and then on to Le Havre to pick up passports for our trip to England, where we stayed in Manchester till our return to occupied Belgium, to Gent via Zelzate. We had to provide lodging for German officers, but any time they acted inappropriately we immediately went to the ‘Kommandantur’. What a nuisance; we had to give them our metal, copper and bronze; we didn’t have any food or wood and had to hide anything we wanted to keep underground. They came looking for anything hidden in the garden, repeatedly stabbing their bayonets into the ground. They almost found our stash once! For the last three weeks Eugène hid in a cupboard and would only come out for meals. And during the final week I narrowly escaped a jail term and fine. I had told a German officer I no longer wanted him in my house “We are still the masters here” he said “and I am going straight to the Kommandantur to have you punished”. I replied “Yes, you are still the masters now, but not for much longer.” Oh, the man was furious. He would have shot me right then and there if he had dared. If the Hun had stayed any longer I would surely have accumulated my fair share of jail terms and fines! No, life here was not very interesting: we were not allowed to travel, there was little food, and everything was extremely expensive. I am glad you spent good years in England. It is a pity we did not know where you were in 1915, otherwise we could have arranged to meet! Well, dear Alice, I will say good-bye. Write soon to let me know when you are coming back. Our very best respects to Madame, love and kisses from Odette and myself. Yours affectionately Old Thing It seems that Valentin’s mother Juliette Dewaele-Haverland and her daughter Alice must have arrived back in Ostend around January 26th 1919. Willich February 1st 1919 My dear Mother, I am no longer getting letters from Deganwy, so you must be back in Ostend. When will I get a letter from you? Today I hope. I’m sure you will find a few minutes to write to me despite all your work. I hope you are feeling strong and are getting on well. I assume it is very quiet in Ostend. How is the repatriation going? How are Uncle and Aunt De Neve? I hear nothing from them; did they get my letter? Give my best regards to Uncle Emile and Aunt Eudoxie and their children. Many kisses to you and Alice, Valentin Ostend February 4th 1919 Dear Valentin, I haven’t written to you since my arrival in Ostend, but time passes so quickly, it is unbelievable! You can imagine how happy I was to see Ostend again, but my happiness was marred by the changes. The town where we were born is unrecognisable. We will move house, and from the 1st of March we will be in number 1 Kapellestraat. I think Mother informed you of this. We would like to take down the wall between the two shops. I so dearly wish you were here; we need your advice and strength. Can you not bring forward your demobilisation? There must be a way. You also wrote in one of your letters that you had seen your old friend Fritz De Goeyse. His mother asks if it is true that you saw him and if he is really alive, please answer the included card as quickly as you can. I long to live in our new home and have us all back together! Grandmother is back in Ostend, much older and deaf but in good spirits and very eager to see you again. Kisses from afar... how much longer? Alice Ostend February 6th 1919 My dear Valentin, I received your letter safely. I know you are eager to hear the latest news; I understand how you feel. I would like to see you and talk to you about our renovations; I need your advice, and the fact that you are still so far away makes me sad. Alice is good to me, as is the entire family, but it is you I really need. Make sure you pass through Brussels to give my regards to the entire family when you come home on leave. Grandmother is in good health and would like to see you soon. Alice will write to you tomorrow in more detail about all that is happening here. Your loving Mother The entire Libert family, that is to say Aunt Eudoxie and her children, had also returned home to their husband and father in the patisserie in Ostend. Ostend February 14th 1919 My dear Sergeant, I wish you a Happy Saint’s Day, my absent neighbour! See here; I have returned home and am happy as a fish in water. I have almost got used to my home and Waalewallon Affectionate term for her Wallonian husband of a husband again. Goodbye to the blackberries of Deganwy which I love, especially from a distance! No, no one was ill on the trip between Folkestone and Calais. And you, Mr. Sergeant, always sea-sick; what a delicate flower you are. I received your letter and one from Marguerite who fears she will have to undergo a fourth operation; she suffers terribly and hides it for the sake of her sick father. I am answering your letter first, since it is your Saint’s Day. Do you remember, last year you were still in our cottage over there far away! It is a pity that you do not find yourself in the same state as we do. For us the war has ended without gain or loss. It will be forgotten quickly. It is different for all of you. Oh yes, your mother has the flu; she is improving, but I cannot visit. They say it is very contagious, and with all our children it could become a serious problem! Now I am back in my shop making displays and selling chocolate at 3 francs. All these different types of money are a terrible nuisance, town notes, vouchers, etc! It is amazing how quickly you get back into the salesperson’s routine. So different from the boring life of a housewife in the cottage in Deganwy! You asked how the return journey went. Everything went very smoothly, but unfortunately without baggage. This is a disaster for someone like me who needs her shoes! Our cottage was in perfect order when we left it, with not a trace left behind, not even your fingerprints on the mantel-piece. With regard to my husband, my Waalewallon, it was definitely time I returned; he was really becoming a bachelor. I have already reformed him (a little bit). So you say I played a part in making you happy, my little Belgian muck-shoveller. I am proud and pleased that I could. Sweet kisses, Your ‘Sugaraunty’ Eudoxie Epilogue Valentin spent several months in Germany before returning to his barracks along the Boulevard Général Jacques in Brussels. He went horse riding in the Forêt de Soignes, was allowed weekends at home and had also special leave to support his mother and restart the business in Ostend. He was finally granted an honourable discharge from the army on August 27th 1919, as a sergeant, after four years and four months of service. He had been involved in active combat for a full two years, 8 months, and 17 days. He was awarded the Croix de Fer, the Médaille de la Victoire, the Médaille du Combattant Volontaire, and the prestigious Croix de Guerre avec Palmes. His mother, his sister Alice and the Libert family with their five children came back to Ostend in January 1919. Juliette and Alice moved house and the shop from the Groentenmarkt to the Wapenplein – a prime commercial location where they owned two small houses. They renovated the store and the living accommodation. The new display windows held clothing, silk and woollen cloth, socks, shirts, and flags – all of which had been imported from England. It was a new start for the business. New saleswomen were appointed with the honest Alida in charge. She never talked much about her colleagues and their relationships with German soldiers. Maria Vercamer was able to prove that part of the business profits were in the regular business account, the other part had been taken away by the furious aunts in their 1918 raid. It finally came to amicable agreement. After all, her brother Julien had been killed at the front, Daniel had sent apologies on behalf of his sister and was a friend of Valentin. Maria left Ostend and settled in Gent. Very soon, ‘In Het Anker’ was prospering again. In 1926 Valentin rebuilt the property. It became the first concrete art deco building in Ostend, with seven floors and an Otis lift. It had seven large shop windows and was known as the best drapery shop in the town, catering to illustrious clients such as James Ensor and Queen Astrid. It sold wedding dresses, official flags, and fine suits. The annual sales attracted large crowds. The Libert patisserie, Valentin’s closest neighbour, quickly re-established itself as the best one in town. Father Emile, mother Eudoxie-Sugarauntie and their son André worked together in the patisserie, their son Willy became a naval officer, Carlos studied medicine at Kings College London and changed his surname to the more English-sounding “Knight”. Valentin’s mother enjoyed her well-deserved retirement in the new ‘In Het Anker’ building where she enjoyed a daily visit from her son. She died in 1941 aged 74. In 1927 Valentin married Annette Pleyn, a doctor’s daughter. Her father was James Ensor’s physician. They had two children, Jacques and Marcel. Ostend suffered again in World War 2. Valentin sent his wife and children to France but stayed to protect the business, not wanting to repeat the error of his mother in World War 1. When waves of Stuka bombers attacked the city center, he was hiding behind the chimney on the zinc roof, dodging their bullets, and kicking the incendiary bombs into the street below. As a result, ‘In Het Anker’ was about the last building standing after the bombings. His wife and children had been cut off in Northern France and returned to Ostend after the capitulation. The family then decided to move to Bruges for the duration of the war, guessing that it was less likely to be bombed. ‘In Het Anker’ was booming again after World War 2 and after retiring Valentin was succeeded by his son Marcel in 1967 when the firm celebrated its eightieth anniversary. Valentin Dewaele lived to the age of eighty-seven. He blamed his slight deafness on his 105mm cannon. He rarely mentioned or spoke of the war. After his death his sons found 500 items of correspondence in French, Dutch and English in the attic, together with his diaries which together form the basis of this book. They had survived 77 years since the end of World War 1. Acknowledgement We are very grateful to Katja Wauters who did a lot of work on the original manuscript, to Philippe D’Helft who translated the text from Dutch into English and to Moira Courtman for her careful proofreading of the manuscript, which she did with great knowledge and kindness. About the authors Jacques Dewaele was born in Ostend, Belgium in 1927. He studied Classical Philology, Literature and Philosophy at the University of Gent, the Sorbonne and Arizona University. He became a teacher of Latin, Greek and later French at the Koninklijk Atheneum in Bruges and the Rijksnormaalschool in Bruges. He was a Fulbright exchange teacher in 1963 and spent a year teaching French near Hartford in Connecticut, USA with his wife and son. He travelled the world and wrote for various newspapers, presented films from his travels in public events and on television (1954-1974). He published two books based on his travelling experiences Iran in pyjama (1964) and Vreemdeling in Amerika (1970). He authored several French course books (1985-1990) and wrote a book on his father-in-law who was a painter and an art historian, Met pen en penseel: Adriaan Vandewalle and Walter Vanbeselaere (2006). He also produced De oorlog van Valentin in 1999, of which the current book is a revised and extended translation. He married Anna Vandewalle in 1961. They have three grown-up children, Jean-Marc (living in London), Annette (living near Berkeley in California) and Dirk (living in Brussels). Jean-Marc Dewaele was born in Ostend, Belgium in 1962. He studied Romance Philology at the Free University Brussels. He is Professor of Applied Linguistics and Multilingualism at Birkbeck, University of London. He does research on individual differences in psycholinguistic, sociolinguistic, pragmatic, psychological and emotional aspects of Second Language Acquisition and Multilingualism. He has published a monograph Emotions in Multiple Languages in 2010. He is former president of the European Second Language Association and Executive Committee member of the International Association of Multilingualism. He is General Editor of the International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism. He married Katja Wauters in 1990. They have one teenage daughter, Livia, who grew up as a trilingual, with a fascination for history. 2