One Man and his Trench

One Man and his Trench

Channel 4 replied to me: “I agree it is potentially not uninteresting.” To this day that double negative echoes doubt through anything creative I attempt…

In 1996 I’d sent their commissioning editor a nine-minute trailer promoting an idea for a documentary about a young Englishmen, Mark Horner, who was, around that time, excavating a First World War trench in the Ypres salient. I was self-financing the project and running short of cash. My one-and-only effort to be a producer was facing an unsuccessful conclusion.

Belgo restaurants were all the rage, but I knew Belgium offered more than moules-et-frites. I had taken a trip around the Low Countries visiting several battlefield tours including Arnhem and the Ardennes. I’d retraced the march along the Menin Road searching for such infamous places as Hell-fire Corner and then towards the hamlet of Hooge I found, in the shadow of Belgium’s largest amusement park, Mark’s archaeological dig. He’d dedicated himself to an excavation that had revealed the dog-tooth construction typical of a First World War trench. His endeavours had unearthed the original duck-boards along with other detritus of war; weapons, ammunition and uniforms.

Mark and I were a similar age, but while I was failing to find a raison d’être he’d clearly discovered his. He was an engaging character who talked passionately of the events that took place in his corner of a foreign field. It was, for example, the site of the first ever flame-thrower attack and the Hooge Crater, now an ornamental pond, was the result of the largest man-made explosion to that date. There was also his own tension with the local heritage authorities who were unhappy his work disturbed the ‘peace and tranquillity’ of the surrounding woods.

Over a few specialist Belgium beers, each served in its own unique glassware, we discussed our common wish that the sacrifice of a generation was not forgotten. The 80th anniversary of the third battle of Ypres, its horror evoked by the name of the village nearby, Passchendaele, was approaching and I returned to the UK with a purpose. One man and his trench was a compelling story and needed to be told.

I hired a small team of film-making professionals and when we witnessed the Last Post at the Menin Gate, on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, all were genuinely moved. Those young men, whose names were inscribed on the walls, had served their country in the surrounding fields of Flanders and, although their graves were unknown, we would remember.

According to one broadcaster, however, my treatment was ‘too educational’ and perhaps the overuse of war poets and artists were clichés distracting from the central narrative of Mark’s unique project. I’d sent that same trailer to the producer of the acclaimed military history series, War Walks. He replied that Mark had ‘the kind of enthusiasm and energy which bring life to any subject’.

Mark’s story deserved to be told, unfortunately, I wasn’t the right person to tell it.

[Kindly note that this is part of a wider collection titled ‘Just Crumbs’ — Please refer to the ‘foreword’ page for an explanation.]

As a precursor, I invite you to listen to … The Soldier — Robert Brooke

A poem might seem a little clichéd but nothing else comes close to depicting the legacy of WW1 and the motivation behind my small effort. I recite this to myself every day.