Bloodied fields of Flanders

ROLLING hills, scattered woodland and quaint towns known for their breweries in South West Belgium are the very picture of rural charm.

Admiring a kaleidoscope of grazing cattle, sleepy hamlets and red roofed farms on the horizon, it is hard to believe these tranquil lush green pastures were once steeped in blood and mud.

Barbed wire, artillery, machine guns, vermin, disease, cold and wet — not to mention poison gas, flame throwers and tanks — here was the huge hellhole known as the killing fields of Flanders.