Just outside Zonnebeke church, temporarily erected white boards surround the entrance to a complex of subterranean chambers that, for six months this year, has been opened to allow the public a look inside a genuine, bona fide, British dugout, Great War vintage.
Just before we take a look ourselves,…
…there’s a plaque on the church that we should visit first (one wonders how many of the dugout visitors even notice it).
The church at Zonnebeke was totally destroyed during the war, and this particular Canadian Artillery battery used the ruins as a gun emplacement during the fighting for Passchendaele.
On to the dugouts. The four inset photographs show 3D plans of the bunker we shall be visiting. Clockwise from top left (click the main picture to enlarge): Entrance steps; blocked tunnels to the right and ahead of the entrance; the main tunnel and rooms, entrance top left; final room, end of tunnel and exit.
There were about a dozen of us, and we had just twenty minutes underground. A hundred years ago a second gas blanket (there would have been one at the top of the stairs) would have been fitted where the plastic sheeting at the bottom now allows us access.
Immediately on our right at the bottom of the steps, this tunnel appears to be uncompleted (note the bowed ceiling beams, and the broken one near the end of the chamber),…
…the boards at the end, wedged on either side, and the lone pillar beyond, suggesting work still being done,…
…and ahead of us another tunnel, this one apparently blocked by an earthfall at some point.
Pumps, without which we would not be down here; the whole complex would be under water, just as it had been for seventy one years until rediscovered by archaeologists in 1989, and indeed has been for much of the time since,…
…although you wouldn’t exactly call it dry today. Still at the bottom of the entrance steps, we finally turn left,…
…by which time,…
…most of the rest of our party are off and running. Almost literally!
Three minutes, and that’s Zonnebeke dugouts done and dusted. Which gave Baldrick, myself, the tour guide and a couple of others, some seventeen minutes down here in relative peace.
Looking back towards the entrance as we begin to explore the main gallery. The roof above us is sixteen foot below the surface, the main gallery about ninety five feet long,…
…and there are five rooms, for soldiers to rest in, or for storage, I would think, built off the main gallery.
The dugout was begun on 20th January 1918 by 1st Australian Tunnelling Company, and handed over on 24th March to 254th Tunnelling Company (the only tunnelling company to include a Victoria Cross winner in its ranks, although Sapper William Hackett did not live to tell his tale).,…
…whose tenure was much briefer, bearing in mind that the German assault in Flanders, Operation Georgette, would begin on 9th April.
I just like this shot, okay!
At head height, on the other side of the gallery, this aperture is blocked by one of the tunnellers (and archaeologists) worst nightmares, a roof collapse.
Beneath the orange-tinged surface, stained from the many rusting steel beams down here, you can see the blue-grey Ypres clay, to be found beneath the surface at varying levels from the Flanders coast to Vimy Ridge, that the tunnellers searched for when they first drilled bore holes to gauge the suitability of the geology for subterranean activity.
The roof above us looks sturdy enough (above & below, shooting blindly into the gloom above me)…
…as does the floor beneath our feet.
The steel girders less so. But then water, and don’t forget these chambers were flooded for the best part of a century, is kinder to timber than metal.
Again looking back towards the entrance, the first room we photographed now on the left, the aperture with the roof collapse through the gap between the pillars,…
…and turning to our right, the second room.
Baldrick catches your photographer at work.
Now that, my friends, is a rockfall, I think you’ll agree.
And while I show you more shots of this second room, a little history. On 10th November 1917 the Battle of Passchendaele finally came to its soggy conclusion. The British and their allies held the Passchendaele Ridge at long last, but the nearly three and a half months of fighting had left a wasteland for miles behind the British front line, with little remaining cover from the German artillery that never stopped hurling shells into the British rear area. The men who had spent the first half of 1917 preparing the ground for the Battle of Messines in early June, the British, Australians & Canadians of the specialist tunnelling companies, were whisked north to Passchendaele where they hastily began constructing numerous dugouts, deep enough to withstand the German guns.
In December 1917 & January 1918, 25,000 tunnellers and 50,000 attached infantrymen were involved in the building of near on two hundred dugouts of various sizes, many in the commune of Zonnebeke, little knowing that the German offensive in early April would sweep through this hard-won territory in a matter of days, in some sectors just hours.
Consequently some of the dugouts (including the most well-known, the Vampire dugout), had only been in use for a few weeks if at all, and many were still in the process of being constructed when the Germans captured them. Perhaps they used some themselves, but evidence of this appears slim, and after the war the entrances were closed up and the subterranean chambers forgotten.
In 1983 the Bremen Dugout (now collapsed and pulled down, although the public had been allowed to enter it as recently as the late 1990s!) was discovered, and a few years later, during excavations to find the 12th Century crypt of the Augustinian Abbey that once stood where Zonnebeke church now stands, another dugout came to light, and all these years later we get the opportunity to set foot in it.
Again, looking back at the entrance,…
…before we encounter room three,…
…the little cross left by a young lad who, I gather, asked permission first. How long ago I’m not sure, but the guide said they might leave it there, so not long, it would seem.
Checking the pic. Yep, that’ll do.
They say there is evidence of bunk beds in one of the rooms, although the closest I can see is perhaps that wide timber board propped up in the left background, and is that really any different to the beams used for the walls of this room? And anyway, surely, in order to construct bunk beds the central pillars in the room would have to be notched to accept the wooden slats of the bed frames?
While we are here, spare a thought for the tunnellers working in appalling conditions down here, in light far worse than this, certainly sploshing about in the vile Flanders mud and slime that was simply everywhere, and ever fearful of the German shell that might just find the dugout entrance.
Once more, looking back the way we have come, and up on the wall to the right,…
…an original wedge, to ensure no slippage of the beams. Because the dugout was never put to proper use, the archaeologists who first excavated it in the late 1980s found far fewer artefacts than at some other (trench) sites, but I believe that buttons, remains of a shovel, a hammer and some rubber waders (wise) that they did find are now on show in the nearby Passchendaele Museum.
I can’t see any obvious candle marks on the central pillars, but doubtless there are some.
The fourth room, and another serious rockfall on the right,…
…along with a future one on the left.
I never really dreamt that I would ever find myself in such a place, standing in the gloom of a dripping underground gallery, photographing such a thing from just a few feet away.
The fifth and final room (above & below),…
…the girders holding the ceiling suffering after all these years.
One of the truly unique things about this dugout is that the agencies involved in opening it for the public chose to keep the gallery and rooms as authentic as possible, doing nothing more than draining the complex and adding low lighting. Good on them.
So this really is as authentic as you are ever going to get.
Before our time is up, these views look down the full length of the main gallery,…
…from either side of the pillars.
And finally, the way out, but not the original steps. No, they are too dangerous to be used, but you can still see them,…
…if you peer through the modern ones.
Zonnebeke church. On November 10th this year, exactly one hundred years on from the official end to the Battle of Passchendaele, the Zonnebeke church dugouts will be closed once more, the pumps will be turned off, and in a matter of five days or so (really, I checked) the waters will have risen and submerged everything within. For ever.
What a privilege to have had the opportunity to be there for twenty minutes, and what a privilege to be able to show you all, and I know that many of you have absolutely no chance of going there in person, around by extension. I hope it’s the next best thing.
More things Zonnebeke can be found here.
Astounding and thank you MJS and Baldrick. A wonderful insight to just one of many huge tunneling projects throughout the entire War. The mind boggles at the incredible number (28,000) of brave tunnellers involved along with their support Infantrymen. The 3D images were very helpful in understanding the magnitude of this one project. Looking at your wonderful photos it is difficult to imagine how the soldiers managed the logistics of timber, steel and other material in those less mechanised times and muddy conditions. A wonderful post and again thank you for showing us some of what our fathers and other relatives endured.
A question if I may – do you know how/if the tunnels were ventilated? Or were they just airless and dank … as you are undoubtedly aware, in modern era tunnels (as in underground mines) they use humungous fans and ventilation ducts along with special shafts.
Most kind Sid. Honestly, can you imagine being down there. A rare treat for the likes of me.
They absolutely had to ventilate the tunnels; CO2 build up, Carbon Monoxide, gas. Also there was so little air without ventilation that candles shed little light, just a blue flame. And candles were vital for various reasons apart from light; tunnellers, for example, guaged time by the burning of the candles. The British initially used blacksmiths’ bellows and rotary fans; basically a device with two tubes, a wheel above it with a handle attached on either side that would draw air in one side and eject it the other. Two men turned the handles continuously. They also had the Holman Air Pump, again operated by two men who pushed handles back and forward, drawing air on both motions (clever, at the time). And deep mine tunnels needed air pumped (either manually or electrically) through long armoured hoses (armoured in case of collapse or camouflet – trapped men might still receive air) down to the chambers deep below surface.
You did ask! And of all of these ways, the tunnellers liked the first best. Bellows were quietest!!
Merci beaucoup Monsieur – I truly appreciate your as usual thorough explanation (I would not have expected anything less) – much appreciated as I’m sure will be the same for other readers. Amazing – 24/7 raw manpower.
I can’t resist – the reason the bellows were preferred is they did not “bellow” (oh, sorry for that one)
Oh dear. Lol! On a par with my occasional puns, Sid.
I visited a couple of weeks ago, amazing to think it will be left to flood again at the end of the centenary commemoration. Feel privileged to have seen it. The Passchendaele museum is fantastic too.
Agreed. I shall be revisiting the museum next year. I’m sure it will be excellent.
Oh man it feels so claustrophobic..! I’m interested to know about what Sid from Down Under asks; was there any ventilation system of sorts? Thanks for the wonderful pics!
Merci Mrs. B. And thank you ever so much for the hospitality! I know it was a flyin’ visit, but it was FAB! Had a great time. Still smiling.
See above for the ventilation explanation, btw.
Amazing post and pictures!
One can only imagine the work that went into building these dugouts at that time!
And the condition after 100 years under water testifies how well it was done!
Cheers Chris! Glad you enjoyed this one.
Not only this one 😉
Most kind, Chris. Appreciated.
Good morning. We were in Flanders a couple of weeks ago and fortunate enough to visit.. engineers check the dugout for safety reasons which was reassuring. Amazing experience to walk in the footsteps of the Men from 100 years ago. We also visited the Bremen redoubt.a long time ago! But your explanation has added to the experience. As always thank you
Hello Morag. Hope all is well, Glad you have been down there. I wish I had visited Bremen, but twas not to be. As always, thank you too.
I was there the first day it was open to the public, with my grandchildren. And I was so stupid to follow (the pace) of the person in front of me, so I was out far too soon. With my grandchildren (they have to be told about this war, don’t they) I will go back and the visit will take the full 20 minutes, because this might very well be the last time of our lives we have the opportunity of really going back to 1918.
First day! Very keen Filip. I’d have been there with you given the chance. Having said that, you, being the first ever follower on this site, should know better than to go charging off with the rest!! I hope you feel suitably admonished! Only kidding! Anyway, as you say, you can just nip back for another visit. I am very jealous. I think I might go every day if I lived nearby – well, every week perhaps. When you do go back, if you remember, ask them about the future (see Mark’s comment below). Are they goimg to leave the pumps (I assume not)? Or anything that would allow it to be reopened with relative ease.
We were there a couple of weeks ago – 22nd Sept. see YouTube link.
A great experience. We also stayed down after others had left.
I think the closure is designed to preserve the dugout so it can be opened in future for short periods.
Thanks for that Mark. A great experience indeed. One thing I cannot show in my photos is the water dripping on to the floor, as you show in the video. I hope you are right about the future; I’ve asked Filip to ask them about it when he returns (see above).
How long has it been open and why are they closing such an historic site? That’s ridiculous.
Six months, maximum 50,000 people over that time for safety reasons. I guess it will be closed again for both safety and financial reasons.
Fascinating and interesting report great photos. Conditions as you said were appalling
Hello M! Glad you enjoyed it. Absolutely fascinating and as I say, a real treat. Now, all you’ve gotta do is tick the correct box below…….
Done that M have you got it
Certainly have! Official welcome M! You are now locked in to TheBigNote forever. Or at least until you’ve had enough!! You will now get emails for every new post – and there’s a mega tour of the Boesinghe/Boezinge area coming up very soon.
Great photos and info.
Just a point to add if I may? The church dugout was in the sector worked by 171 T Coy RE in April 1918, along with Vampir Dugout. My Grandfather was the CSM and I and my son were both very fortunate to be invited to the official unveiling on 31 July 2017. We had a private preview prior to the Royal unveiling by HRH The Prince of Wales and The King and Queen of The Belgians. I was also fortunate to visit it again on the last day. I worked as a tour guide for 15 years around Ypres and came across your site whilst pulling together a presentation on remembrance for my local cadet force. Thank you.
Hello Pete. Good of you to take the trouble to comment. Always happy to have extra information. It was a rare privilege, I thought, to get the chance – I actually went over especially to visit the dugout – luckily I have a mate – the Baldrick mentioned in this post – who lives in Wervik, so I can usually pop over to Flanders as and when. Glad you enjoyed the post, hope the presentation goes well – tell ’em all about my website (don’t ask, don’t get).