by Jim Werbaneth
It's been another busy summer, marked by more travel than at any other time in
my life. I attended Origins for the first time in June, working the Against the
Odds/Turning Point Simulations booth. It was a great pleasure meeting many of
you, and putting faces to names.
The same month, my girlfriend Lisa and I traveled to Raleigh for my nephew's
high school graduation. Along the way we made the nearly-annual Civil War Tour,
stopping by Chancellorsville, Spotsylvania, the Wilderness and Fredericksburg.
Along the way home we visited Mount Airey, North Carolina, the hometown of Andy
Griffith and a place that celebrates its role as the real inspiration for
Mayberry. Another stop was the New River Gorge in West Virginia, a stunning
natural landmark that should be visited by everyone passing over US Route 19
through the state. It was also a great relief to pass through Summersville and
not get a traffic ticket from its notoriously predatory police department.
Another major highlight was my first return to Europe since 1999. This time my
main destination was the Netherlands, where I was the guest of my friend Robert
Housmans in Sittard.
Yes, I was in the Netherlands, but no I did not smoke any weed, or consort with
prostitutes. A lot of people asked, when they heard I was going, about whether
or not I would engage in those famous Dutch diversions. For the record I did
neither, and on my visit I was struck by the scorn that many had for those who
did. For example, I was introduced to one person as "This is Jim Werbaneth, from
America. Here's here for all the right reasons, and not to smoke marijuana or
mess with hookers."
Not that people are puritanical about either. I can attest that in Amsterdam at
least, there are prostitutes displayed in the windows. The ones that I saw
weren't that attractive either; they tended to be prematurely old, tired and
bored looking, and usually talking on their cell phones. There wasn't much that
was all that erotic about it.
Regarding reefer, I got a good lesson in attitudes about that the first night I
was there. Robert and I went into the center of Sittard for a beer, and there
was a big public dance party in the town square. Throughout the crowd there was
the unmistakable smell of high school in the seventies. I guess that scorn I
noticed wasn't universally shared. Along the edge too there was a police
cruiser, with two cops leaning against it and enjoying what looked like really
easy duty. Neither the cops nor the smokers paid the least bit of attention to
each other.
I should also note that the Netherlands can also be an excuse for some visitors
to act like damned fools, on the rationale that "What happens in Holland stays
in Holland." An example would be the gaggle of drunken old Englishmen I noticed
staggering through the Amsterdam red light district, with one bellowing, "Oy,
look at the tits on that one!"
I really was there for the right reasons, and deeply appreciated my stay.
Everyone has to see Amsterdam at least once I believe; partly for the culture
that exists side by side with the vice, and partly to see that Las Vegas has no
right to call itself Sin City as long as Amsterdam remains above sea level.
Along with Robert, and his friends Hans and Orban, I got to see a lot other
historical sites too, some of which are on every wargamer's bucket list. One of
the first was Eben Emael, just across the border from Maastricht, in Belgium,
and the fort famously taken by airborne coup de main by the Germans on May 10,
1940. The tour was conducted entirely in Dutch, but I was lucky to be with
people who could translate. A special thanks for that goes to Hans' friend, and
car mechanic, Oscar. Most Dutch speak very good English, but Oscar speaks
perfect American.
Robert and I also visited Arnhem and Oosterbeek, along with the British drop
zones at Wolfheze and especially Ede. There was no time for more than a swing
past Nijmegen, and the American side of Market-Garden. There was no time, and
that will have to wait for a return trip.
Robert, Hans and I drove across Belgium one day, stopping at Waterloo. That is
one of the top places, along with Gettysburg, Normandy and the Bulge, that every
wargamer wants to visit. Unfortunately I found it to be an overpriced,
overdeveloped, tourist trap of the worst variety. The museum, such as it is, is
rather seedy, and its main attractions are some fairly run of the mill manikins
dressed up as the battle's leaders. Moreover, it was hot, humid and surprisingly
smelly inside, conditions aggravated by a decidedly un-American aversion to air
conditioning.
We did not stay too long at Waterloo, though we all climbed the Lion Mound, all
two hundred twenty-six steps.
That was an experience not to be forgotten. Robert and Hans ascended it in
cadence, marching like the Dutch army. I went up more slowly, huffing and
puffing like an American obscene phone caller.
We then went to Ypres. Actually, the Dutch name is more widely used there, as
the city is in Flanders, and gives a good clue of how to pronounce it: Ieper
(EE-per). Not ee-PRY or for that matter Wipers, or "Bloody Wipers," as some
British soldiers called the city.
Ieper is a worthy destination too, and somewhat less designed to pick the money
from visitors' pockets. That does happen at the In Flanders Fields Museum,
housed in the rebuilt Cloth Hall in the center of town. It's not that it's a bad
museum, as anything as devoted to World War I can't be all bad. But the main
theme seems to be that war sucks, hammered home in one unusually pretentious
room filled with flashing lights, displays (including some underfoot) that light
up and go dark, films played on the walls, and the sounds of witnesses'
first-hand accounts, punctuated by screaming.
Yes, war is terrible and violent and generally bad. We know this. We don't need
to have it pounded in by avant-garde art. It probably goes over well with the
art critics, but I just wanted to move on.
At the entrance to the town square is a much more moving memorial, and a
testimony to the bloodshed of the Great War far more effective than the bright
lights and shiny objects of the museum. It is the Menin Gate. A great marble
triumphant arch, the "triumphant" part is undercut by its purpose and
decoration. The full name is the Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing. Finished in
1927, it bears the names of almost fifty-five thousand British Commonwealth
soldiers, from all parts of the Empire except New Zealand and Newfoundland, who
are remembered at other memorials.
Roughly equal to the number of Americans killed in Vietnam, this is not a
complete list of the Commonwealth dead, except those from those two places. It
is the list of the missing in action, and killed but never identified. Even so,
it is a partial list, as even this massive structure proved too small to
accommodate all of them.
Soldier's names are given according to place of origin, and regiment. One can
see entire regiments destroyed through the quantity of names. In addition
officers, including commanders, are abundantly listed, so at the regimental
level at least, there was little room for safe chateau leadership.
Another stop at Ieper was Hill 60. It's not much of a hill, a barely perceptible
rise, but in a landscape that otherwise has all the topographical diversity of a
pool table, it was crucial landmark. There, one can see German pillboxes and
bunkers, and trench lines too, though it takes a discerning eye to tell the
trenches from the shell holes.
We didn't forget the American battlefields either. One day, Robert and I drove
to the Huertgen Forest in Germany. One of the most ill-advised and tragic
battles of World War II, a grinding contest in a frozen hell of hills, ravines,
and forest, where the Americans' access to artillery and airpower was largely
negated. It was a battle on German terms, with crippling American losses, and
for very little in return.
When Robert and I visited, it looked entirely different. We hiked over the Kall
Trail, named for the Kall river in the middle of the battlefield, on a warm,
nearly cloudless summer day. Along the Kall, we had lunch at a restaurant, an
old mill, that once served as a Wehrmacht supply depot.
Though there was little superficial resemblance to the battlefield of 1944,
except that most of the forest between Vossenack and Schmidt-Kommerscheit
remains basically uninhabited. There are a few houses, and one restaurant with
excellent schnitzel, but it remains a land of hill and forest, with one dirt
road, the Kall Trail, running between the two towns.
It still bears many signs of war though. The Kall Trail is flanked by old German
foxholes, trenches and gun positions, and back from the road especially, heavier
concrete bunkers. There is also a section of the road with exposed rock, into
which a Sherman tank gouged the pattern of its tracks. Another stretch features
the track of a Sherman, left behind by an immobilized tank.
On one of the last of my days in the Netherlands, Robert stated that he and
Orban had a day planned, visiting a surprise destination. Robert further
suggested that I consider sunscreen, as we were headed south. I suggested a few
places where it could be, and he gave no indication whether or not any were
correct.
We drove down to Maastricht, Orban and Hans' hometown, and picked up Orban. We'd
have another friend for the trip too, Orban's dog Donna, Belgian shepherd-German
shepherd mix. Donna jumped into the storage space behind the backseat, and then
Orban got into the car. Almost the first thing he said was: "Robert, how long
will it take to get to Bastogne?"
There goes the secret.
So we got to the see another American battlefield. There was no chance to see
the northern flank of the Bulge, though we did drive past it. Actually, we
bypassed Bastogne too, as my hosts had a pilgrimage planned, to Luxembourg.
There we visited the American cemetery, and paid our respects as well to one of
the interned soldiers, one George Smith Patton. After that, we headed to
Sandweiler, and the German military cemetary.
Our next stop was Wiltz, site of one of the first engagements in the battle.
Again we saw foxholes, and plenty of them.
Only then did we go to Bastogne.
This town warrants a visit for any World War II or wargame enthusiast who passes
through the territory fought over during the Battle of the Bulge. To many, the
Bulge and Bastogne are synonymous, and like Waterloo, the town makes the most of
its historical significance. While not quite as shameless a tourist trap,
Bastogne does exploit its role in the Bulge to the utmost. Nonetheless, it does
feature an impressive memorial to the US Army in the Bulge, shaped like a giant
star. One can climb to the top, where arrows on the railing point out nearby
battlefield landmarks.
There was one that we had to see, near Foy. This is the position of the Company
E, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division, better known as
the Band of Brothers, thanks to Stephen Ambrose and HBO. In fact, this is marked
by a monument funded by the network and executive producer Tom Hanks.
One can find the paratroopers' positions easily, because as in the Huertgen
Forest and Wiltz, their foxholes are still there. Eroded yes, and maybe no
offering the protection that they once did, but they are there. Robert, Orban
and I walked the paratroopers' line, while Donna the dog played with a red ball,
chasing it through the Ardennes, and occasionally into a foxhole.
On our way back we drove through Foy itself, roughly following Easy Company's
axis of advance. We proceeded to Houffalize, saw a panther tank in the Place Roi
Albert, and returned to the Netherlands.
There was another fascinating destination, the German Military Technical
Collection in Koblenz. Located on an active army base, it is a massive
collection of military technology through the ages. It starts with some late
medieval guns, and there are items from the Franco-Prussian War, but the bulk of
the items there are from both World Wars, and the postwar Bundeswehr. There are
some fascinating rarities in the museum, including one of the few prototypes of
the MBT-70, a joint main battle tank program that, though cancelled, eventually
had its technology integrated into the American M1 Abrams and German Leopard 2
tanks.
We spent a fair amount of time either closer to our base too, either in or
passing through Maastricht. This ancient town is well worth time and attention
in its own right, starting with its Vauban-era fortifications, many of which can
still be found. In fact, we had a "family day" in which wives, girlfriends and
children could come along for the "Maastricht Underground" tour of the tunnels
and chambers within those walls.
Visiting battlefields, museums and forts took a lot of my time in Europe, and I
have the pictures to prove it. But I was there to work as well. Robert is a
councilman for the city of Sittard-Geleen, and invited me to give a presentation
to his colleagues about the American system of government, and how its decisions
affect Europe. Unfortunately, it almost did not happen, as it was on the same
day as the trip to Arnhem; on the way back Robert and I faced some heavy traffic
on the motorway, and when we were between Venlo and Roermond, the authorities
closed a tunnel in front of us for at least half an hour. Why, we never found
out. It was particularly frustrating because there were fewer than a half dozen
cars between us and the roadblock, so the difference between speeding on through
and sitting with the motor off was one of a few minutes, maybe even seconds.
My presentation went well. It was a small council meeting, with perhaps a third
of the members present; after all, it was a rare meeting, called during the
traditional vacation season. Those who attended were receptive and interested
though, and after the meeting officially adjourned, we continued our discussions
in a less formal venue ― the bar next door to City Hall.
The next evening, after our return from the Huertgen Forest, I got to observe
another, fuller meeting of city council. This time it was a special session
called to debate a proposed rail terminal for the chemical plants in
Sittard-Geleen, a facility that would require the purchase of residential real
estate and the relocation of the residents. I don't speak Nederlands, so
I had to rely on summaries of the proceedings from Robert, some of his fellow
councilors, and the council's clerk (griffier in Dutch).
Once again, after the meeting, we met in the bar. However, it should be noted
that this wasn't about getting drunk; we were all sober, and the beer was a the
lubricant for convivial discussions about city business, the differences and
similarities between our cultures, and personal observations of modern Dutch
history.
I spent about ten days in the Netherlands, all too short a time. That leaves one
option: A return to the country. I sincerely hope to accomplish that sooner
rather than later, and make a second trip by the end of next summer. Hopefully,
I'll be able to see more of the military historical sites, and see more of the
ones that got a cursory look in 2010. For example, we barely scratched the
surface of Ieper, and just passed through the northern shoulder of the Bulge. I
would also like to see more of Waterloo the next time, and dedicate more
attention to the battlefield itself.
There are other frontiers worth exploring too. We went close to France,
especially on the trips to Ieper and the Bulge, but did not visit that country.
Its attractions are actually within reach of Sittard and Maastricht, as are more
sites in Germany; from an American perspective, it is surprising how close
together many of Europe's cities are. From Pittsburgh, the battlefields of
Gettysburg, Antietam and Harpers Ferry are over four hours away, and the Civil
War battlegrounds of North Virginia take at least another hour and a half to
reach. From the Netherlands, one can drive five hours, and pass through four
countries speaking three languages, and see two thousand years of history.
So that is what I did on my summer vacation.