Remembering George Henry Hodgson

My Great-Uncle George Henry Hodgson was a grocer in Whanganui. My grandfather Victor Hiram Hodgson, an inquisitive boy who found life in Ross dull, ran away from home and eventually joined George, helping him in his shop. George was 41 in 1917, well past the age of enlistment, but the story goes that his horse was requisitioned by the Government for the War Effort. A horse then was like the engine in a car now. With no means of making his deliveries, he declared: “They’ve taken my horse; they might as well have me too,” and joined up. He was trained as a bomb-thrower (largely I suspect because the Hodgsons were alway good at sports). His job waa to approach a blockhouse or machine-gun post, and hurl a 5-pound Mills Bomb into it, often in the face of heavy fire.

He lasted three months at the front. On 12 October 1917, Private George Henry Hodgson, 41551, 2nd Battalion Canterbury Regiment, was seriously wounded during the attack on Bellevue Spur, part of the battle of Passchendaele, near Ypres in Belgium. Taken to an Advanced Clearing Station nearby, he died there 13 October 1917, and was buried nearby at the White House Garden War Cemetery.

My father was named after him (George Edward Hodgson). I have always known this family story and wanted to visit his grave. Today, thanks to Marijke of the New Zealand Pilgrimage Trust, we were finally able to do so. It was good to feel that after all these years, his family had not forgotten him, Dad would have been delighted.
And Marijke also made it possible for me to buy a wreath from the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, write a card, and present it, along with the other wreath-layers, during the Last Post ceremony held every night at the Menin Gate. (We were lucky with our timing on this, as it has been closed for restoration and only reopened in April).
The Menin Gate, opened in 1927, is one of the two remaining. It was a main road to the front line in the First World War. Thousands marched through, who never came back. The 1927 gate was built as a memorial to the British and Commonwealth soldiers (not NZ) who were killed on the Ypres Salient, and have no known grave. Heartbreaking! There are 54,896 names. A powerful image is the painting The Menin Gate at Midnight (on YouTube). On the outer side are the famous Lions of Ypres, longtime symbols of the city.

We arrived after a train journey from Lille, and checked in at the excellent Ariane Hotel. We walked past the mighty Cloth Hall, a striking monument to the town’s wealth in the Middle Ages. This, along with many other buildings, was destroyed by German shellfire. You can see the photo below of New Zealand troops marching past the ruins. Happily it has been fully restored.
.
At the fountain In the market square we met our guide Mairijke, who runs the New Zealand Pilgrimage Trust, dedicated to helping New Zealanders understand the story, and visit the significant sites, of family members who died in the battles around the area. She was enormously helpful, and drove us to sites we would never have got to on our own.
The Passchendaele battlefield - the memorial to the NZ soldiers, with the site of the battle behind, now so peaceful. The failed attack on Bellevue Spur on 12 October is considered the greatest disaster in New Zealand’s history. At the end of the day some 843 New Zealand soldiers were dead or mortally wounded, among them George Henry. He was taken to the nearby Advanced Dressing Station at Wieltje Farm, where he died the next day. There is a memorial there now..

,Next was Tyne Cot, the biggest UK and Commonwealth cemetery., in nearby Zonnebeke. This has 11,900 graves. Line after line after line of lives cut off. Ghastly, but a memorial of great dignity and sombre beauty. Close by is the superbly carved memorial to the 1200 Maori troops who served as Pioneers in construction roles. (The Land Wars were too close in memory for the NZ Government to provide Maori with weapons.)

At the end of our pilgrimage was White House Garden Cemetery, where George Henry Hodgson is buried.. It was a deeply emotional moment to finally acknowledge my grandfather’s brother who had died so far from home. We left poppies and crosses, and a message in the Record of Visitors. He is not forgotten.

This had been an afternoon of heavy emotion. We unwound with cold Belgian beer back in the garden of the hotel.

The finale of this day of remembrance was the Last Post ceremony at the Menin Gate. It was crowded with hundreds of people. I felt proud to be able to carry up the wreath we had bought for George Henry, with a note on it from the Hodgsons. A most moving day, and a highlight of our tour.Read more