shrapnel charlie 2

SINT-JAN, Belgium — The doorbell chimes just as Ivan Sinnaeve sets down a can filled with balls of shrapnel gleaned from World War I battlefields.




“Shrapnel Charlie,” as Sinnaeve is known, grabs his wooden cane and mutters something as he ambles through his cluttered home, angling for the front door. Sinnaeve then pauses. Another memento has caught his eye and Sinnaeve can’t resist taking a parting shot at Kaiser Wilhelm’s army.



“That’s the bad side of a German,” he says, pointing to an undamaged section of a World War I helmet.



Sinnaeve grins as he rotates it, exposing an area peppered with holes.



“That’s the good side,” he crows.



Being Belgian, Sinnaeve’s allegiance comes as no surprise. The 53-year-old makes no bones about whose side he would’ve been on had he been around for “the Great War,” as it is sometimes called.



Yet the man who turns World War I shrapnel into toy soldiers doesn’t let his views conflict with his craft. Lighted glass display cases feature the kaiser’s guys as well as Allied forces, and German war buffs occasionally visit “Shrapnel Charlie” to purchase his hand-painted toy soldiers.



On this day, it’s a Belgian soldier in the doorway of Sinnaeve’s home, which more or less doubles as his workshop.



Belgian army Chief Warrant Officer Erwin Ureel is part of a group raising funds for the first monument in the Ypres region to the Scottish soldiers of World War I. The effort coincides with next year’s 90th anniversary of the Third Battle of Ypres, or Passchendaele, a fight that cost 500,000 lives.



AdvertisementThe men have known each other for a few years, and the banter between the two is genuine and lighthearted. Ureel often drops by to chat or to show a visitor around. Today, Ureel is checking on an order his group placed for 251 statues of Scottish soldiers.



Sinnaeve “is an attraction on his own,” Ureel said as he sat at the dining room table. “He’s a very fine man and he’s got a good heart.”



He’s also got a bad back, which, as fate would have it, led him to convert battlefield metals into meaningful mementos of the “war to end wars.”



A carpenter by trade, Sinnaeve slipped and broke his back while at work in 1991. The fall damaged his fourth vertebrate, leaving him unable to return to work. It also led to years of rehab and the purchase of a wheelchair.



While on vacation a few years later, Sinnaeve came across a display of lead soldiers in a toy store. He bought a mold and materials that day, and ever since he’s been forging ahead with a hobby that allows him to not only stay busy but to keep a promise he made to his grandfather.



Sinnaeve recalls that as a kid, his grandfather and other men would regale folks with vivid stories of the Great War and the men who fought in it. Near the end of his life, Sinnaeve’s grandfather asked his grandson not to forget the stories and to keep the memory of those who fought alive.



“I don’t want those stories to blow away,” Sinnaeve says. “I promised my grandfather I wouldn’t forget. If I didn’t break my back, I wouldn’t have started making toy soldiers.”



His lead army covers the spectrum of WW I players, from New Zealand and Netherlands to India and Ireland. Each figurine is meticulously painted to reflect the uniforms of that era, including guns and regimental insignias. Some toy soldiers sit atop lead horses, while others are situated to reflect a particular scene, such as the 1914 Christmas truce between British and German troops that occurred near Ypres, not far from where Sinnaeve lives.



Ureel departs, but soon another visitor arrives. Sinnaeve excuses himself for a few minutes while he chats with another prospective customer. While similar toy soldiers sell on the Internet for more money, Sinnaeve charges just enough to cover his overhead costs.



“It’s a hobby,” Sinnaeve says. “I don’t want to make money on the misery of soldiers. I could ask for more money, but I don’t. You don’t do that