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Title: The German Fury in Belgium

Author: L. Mokveld

Author of introduction, etc.: John Buchan

Translator: Carel Thieme

Release date: September 26, 2019 [eBook #60364]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Brian Coe, Eleni Christofaki and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
        file was produced from images generously made available
        by The Internet Archive)


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THE GERMAN FURY IN BELGIUM




THE GERMAN FURY IN BELGIUM

EXPERIENCES OF A NETHERLAND JOURNALIST DURING FOUR MONTHS WITH THE
GERMAN ARMY IN BELGIUM

                             BY L. MOKVELD
                   _War-Correspondent of "De Tijd"_

                             TRANSLATED BY
                               C. THIEME
             _London Correspondent of "De Nieuwe Courant"_


                         HODDER AND STOUGHTON
                   LONDON      NEW YORK      TORONTO
                                MCMXVII




_Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and
Aylesbury._




PREFACE


AMONG the many books published on the behaviour of the German Army in
Belgium, this account by a distinguished Dutch journalist must occupy
a unique place. It is written by a neutral, who held, at the start, no
brief for either side. It is written by an eye-witness, who chronicles
not what he heard, but what he saw. It is written also by one who
mingled with the German troops and was present at the inception of the
whole campaign of outrage. Mr. Mokveld took his life in his hands when,
with great courage and devotion, he visited Visé and Liège and Louvain
at the most critical moments. His character of neutral journalist was
only a flimsy protection among the drunken and excited German troops.
But his boldness was justified, for after many adventures he came
safely through, and he was enabled in those early weeks to see the
whole of Belgium from Liège to the Yser and from Antwerp to Dinant.
The result is an admirable piece of war-correspondence, which bears on
every page the proofs of shrewd observation and a sincere love of truth
and honest dealing.

There is much in Mr. Mokveld's narrative to interest the historian.
For example, he gives a fuller account than we have yet had of that
obscure period when Liège had fallen, but its northern forts were
still holding out. But it is less a history of the campaign than a
chronicle of those lesser incidents of war which reveal the character
of the combatants. No more crushing indictment of German methods has
been issued, the more crushing since it is so fair and reasonable. The
author has very readily set down on the credit side any act of German
humanity or courtesy which he witnessed or heard of. But the credit
side is meagre and the black list of crimes portentous. Episodes like
the burning of Visé and the treatment of British prisoners in the train
at Landen would be hard to match in history for squalid horror.

Two facts are made clear by Mr. Mokveld's book, if, indeed, the world
has ever doubted them. The first is that the German authorities,
believing their victory to be beyond question, deliberately sanctioned
a campaign of frightfulness. They did not imagine that they would
ever be held to account. They wished to terrorise their opponents by
showing them what resistance involved. The atrocities were not the
blunders of drink-sodden reservists, but the result of the theories of
half-witted military pedants. The second is that the invading armies
were as nervous as a hysterical woman. Those would-be conquerors
of the world were frightened by their own shadows. A shot fired by
accident from a German rifle led to tales of attacks by Belgian
_francs-tireurs_ and then to indiscriminate murder by way of revenge.
Mr. Mokveld examined the legends of treacherous Belgian assaults and
the mutilation of the German wounded, and found them in every case
wholly baseless. No German had ever seen these things happen, but had
only heard of them. When definite details were given, Mr. Mokveld
tracked them down and found them false. The Belgian atrocities lacked
even that slender justification which belongs to reprisals. They were
the work of a drunken and "rattled" soldiery--for fear is apt to make
men brutal--deliberately encouraged by the authorities, who for this
purpose relaxed the bonds of military discipline. When the battle of
the Marne changed the complexion of affairs, these authorities grew
scared and repudiated the policy, but Belgium remains a witness of what
Germany's triumph means for her victims.

                                                           JOHN BUCHAN.




CONTENTS


                                                                   PAGE
  INTRODUCTION                                                       13

  CHAPTER I
  ON THE WAY TO LIÈGE                                                15

  CHAPTER II
  IN LIÈGE AND BACK TO MAASTRICHT                                    40

  CHAPTER III
  ROUND ABOUT LIÈGE                                                  56

  CHAPTER IV
  VISÉ DESTROYED: A PREMEDITATED CRIME                               72

  CHAPTER V
  FRANCS-TIREURS?                                                    87

  CHAPTER VI
  WITH THE FLEMINGS                                                  95

  CHAPTER VII
  LIÈGE AFTER THE OCCUPATION                                        108

  CHAPTER VIII
  LOUVAIN DESTROYED                                                 113

  CHAPTER IX
  LOUVAIN UNDER THE MAILED FIST                                     132

  CHAPTER X
  ALONG THE MEUSE TO HUY, ANDENNE, AND NAMUR                        147

  CHAPTER XI
  FROM MAASTRICHT TO THE FRENCH FRONTIER: THE DESTRUCTION OF DINANT 156

  CHAPTER XII
  ON THE BATTLE-FIELDS                                              169

  CHAPTER XIII
  ROUND ABOUT BILSEN                                                175

  CHAPTER XIV
  DURING THE SIEGE OF ANTWERP                                       195

  CHAPTER XV
  THE ILL-TREATMENT OF BRITISH WOUNDED                              217

  CHAPTER XVI
  ON THE YSER                                                       232




INTRODUCTION


A FEW words by way of introduction.

I had wished to publish this book a long time ago, because I think
it my duty to submit to the opinion of the public the things which I
witnessed in the unfortunate land of the Belgians, and where I was
present at such important events as an impartial spectator. I call
myself an impartial spectator, for if this book be anti-German, it
should not be forgotten that the facts give it that tendency.

That the book was not published sooner is because I could not foresee
more than others how terribly long the war would last; and I should
have preferred to wait till the end in order to insert several reports
which I know are being kept in the occupied part, in order to acquaint
the whole world with the full truth about the behaviour of the
Germans. As long as the Germans keep the upper hand in Belgium, such a
publication cannot take place without danger to several persons.

But because the German libels go on accusing the Belgian people of
horrible francs-tireurs acts, I have thought that I ought not to wait
any longer before giving my evidence to the public.

This book does not attempt to give more than evidence of the truth. It
does not claim to have literary distinction; I have not even tried to
give it that stamp. By relating various events successively witnessed,
which have no mutual connection, this would be very difficult.

My stories are not exaggerated or touched up, but are true to reality.
That is the reason why the German authorities have driven me away from
Belgium, and tried to get hold of me to punish me. On that side they
are afraid that the truth be known.

A long time after I had left Belgium I got hold of the Black List, in
which I am mentioned twice over among eighty-seven other persons; once
as Hokveld-Journalist and again as Mokveld-Correspondent. The list was
published by me in _De Tijd_ of June 2nd, 1915.

That I was "wanted" is proved by the fact that two persons have
had the greatest trouble because they were mistaken for the
Mokveld-Correspondent of _De Tijd_. My colleague Kemper passed a
fortnight in prison in Brussels, accused of having written various
articles in _De Tijd_, which were written by me, and I relate, in
the chapter "Round about Bilsen," what Mr. Van Wersch, another
Netherlander, suffered for the same reason.

But although the Germans are afraid to let the truth be known, there is
no reason why I should withhold my evidence. On the contrary, I will
try to do everything I can to make public opinion do justice to the
unfortunate Belgians, trodden down and insulted, falsely and vilely
libelled by their oppressors, and accused of offences of which they
never were guilty.




THE GERMAN FURY IN BELGIUM


CHAPTER I

ON THE WAY TO LIÈGE


WHEN _De Tijd_ sent me to Belgium as its correspondent, I had not the
faintest notion practically how to perform my duties, for the simple
reason that I could not apprehend at all how a modern war might be
conducted. But I was destined to receive my first impressions when
still on Netherland[1] territory and after my arrival at Maastricht.

On the hot afternoon of August 7th, 1914, the much-delayed train
rumbled into the station at Maastricht. A dense mass stood in front of
the building. Men, women, and children were crowded there and pushed
each other weeping, shouting, and questioning. Families and friends
tried to find each other, and many of the folk of Maastricht assisted
the poor creatures, who, nervously excited, wept and wailed for a
father, for wife and children lost in the crowd. It was painful,
pitiful, this sight of hundreds of fugitives, who, although now safe,
constantly feared that death was near, and anxiously clutched small
parcels, which for the most part contained worthless trifles hurriedly
snatched up when they fled.

And over these nervous and terrified thousands at Maastricht rolled
from afar the dull roar of the guns, thunder-like bursts from which had
frightened them so terribly.

The streets leading to the bridge over the Meuse and into the town
were also densely thronged with refugees. Here and there large groups
listened to the stories told, with profusion of tears, of sufferings
inflicted, depicted in far harsher colours than could have been
possible. But the wretched creatures exaggerated unconsciously; in
their affrighted state they had seen things that had never occurred.

Suddenly every one in the Vrijthof ran in the same direction. I waited
calmly, and saw pass by a tragically long train of hooded carts and
other peasants' conveyances. The drivers walked by the side of the
horses, the Red Cross flag flew from the carriages, fresh clean straw
covered their floor, on which wounded soldiers writhed in excruciating
pain. The crowd did not press nearer, but, standing silently in long
rows, let the sad procession pass by. Such were the first impressions
of the war got in these days; nobody uttered a sound, but many
stealthily brushed a tear away.

Thus it went on all day long: motors and other conveyances travelled
to and fro between the battle-fields and hospitals at Maastricht;
fugitives moved about in streets and squares, upsetting each other more
and more by fantastic stories.

As dusk came on nearly the whole population of Maastricht, with all
their temporary guests, formed an endless procession and went to invoke
God's mercy by the Virgin Mary's intercession. They went to Our Lady's
Church, in which stands the miraculous statue of Sancta Maria Stella
Maris. The procession filled all the principal streets and squares of
the town. I took my stand at the corner of the Vrijthof, where all
marched past me, men, women, and children, all praying aloud, with loud
voices beseeching: "Our Lady, Star of the Sea, pray for us ... pray for
us ... pray for us ...!"

At the same time bells rang ... and guns roared.

Group after group went by, and I heard French and Netherland, the
Maastricht vernacular and sweet Flemish spoken, all sorts of tongues
and modes of utterance. The men were bare-headed, and each let his
rosary slip through his fingers. Soon after the head of the procession
reached Our Lady Square the huge church was packed, and those who could
not find room inside stood in the square, which also very soon was full
with these thousands of people in a dense mass, like so many blades of
grass in a meadow.

However large the crowd, it was silent as death when the priest Jacobs
addressed them. He spoke words of encouragement, hope, and confidence,
and urged them to send up their prayers to God Almighty--prayers for
peace. When he had ended, these thousands sang the "Hymn to Mary,"
in such perfect order as if only one superhuman body sent forth an
immensely powerful sound from earth to Heaven.

As I was listening to that hymn the storms in my heart subsided--storms
raised by so many scenes witnessed during the day; but as soon as the
sonorous voices were still, I heard again the dull boom ... boom ...
boom ... of the guns. That dire reality!...

       *       *       *       *       *

The next morning I got up early, having been unable to sleep. I
realised already that my task was difficult, dangerous, and full of
responsibility, for I had to find out and communicate to the public
the truth about events, which would be related as beautiful or horrid,
according to the interests of my informants. It was dangerous, because
I might meet with the same fate that seemed to have been inflicted on
so many civilians already.

Dressed in my sporting attire, and carrying some necessaries in a
knapsack, I started early, going towards Visé along the canal. As I
came to the Netherland boundary-stone and noticed that of Belgium, I
had a moment of doubt, but it lasted for a second only. In order to
divert my thoughts I walked somewhat more briskly, but was stopped
suddenly on Belgian ground by a custom-house officer. I was astonished
to see that official there still, for the Germans must be quite near
and--as I had been told--small patrols had advanced frequently to this
point. My papers were found to be in order, and the man seemed very
happy to meet a journalist.

"It is a pity, sir, that you did not arrive a day sooner, then you
might have witnessed great barbarity of the Germans. If you walk on
a little farther along the canal, you will see three persons hanging
from a tree near Haccourt; one of these is a boy of fourteen. Nobody
was allowed on the road, and as a patrol met these three persons, they
concluded immediately that they were francs-tireurs, strung them up
on the tree, without a trial of any sort, and in addition shot each
a bullet through the head. To-day another patrol arrived and had the
effrontery to tell the members of the Maastricht Red Cross that the boy
had murdered a captain. And we are not allowed to remove the corpses.
Horrible!... horrible!"

"Yes," I reply, "it is bad, very bad, but is it really all true?"

"True? True, sir? You go and look for yourself! And let me tell you one
thing--there are no francs-tireurs here! We know quite well what we
may do and what not, and only a moment ago I received a message from
the Minister of the Interior, saying that non-combatants who shoot at
the enemy expose themselves to danger and their fellow-citizens to
retaliations."

I asked him how things were farther on along the Meuse, but he knew
nothing. He was stationed here, he said, and was going to stay as long
as possible. As soon as the Germans arrived, most people fled, and
those who had stayed on were no longer allowed to leave. So he lacked
all information, and only understood that fierce fighting was going on,
as was confirmed by the incessant thunder of the guns. Fort Pontisse
was, moreover, not so very far away, and frequently we could distinctly
tell, by their whistling sound, in which direction the shells flew.

After a few encouraging words I walked on along the solitary, deserted
road, leaving the canal on the right, until a by-way took me to the
bank of the Meuse, opposite the Netherland frontier village Eysden. I
entered a deserted inn. After shouting for a long time, the inn-keeper
appeared, looked shyly at me, remaining constantly close by the
door of his room. His attitude showed that he was prepared to fly
at the slightest suspicious movement on my part; but as soon as I
had convinced him that I was a Netherland journalist, he became more
friendly, and called his wife and daughters, so that I might tell them
all I knew. They were very desirous to know how the war went ... in the
Netherlands, and whether we were fighting the Germans or the English?
It was very difficult to make them understand that they were under a
misapprehension, but when I had at last succeeded in this, I started in
my turn to ask them what they thought of my intention to go farther.

"Go farther, sir? But ... but ... sir, don't do that! The Germans shoot
every civilian whom they set eyes on."

"Oh, go on!" I answered. "I don't think that I need fear anything of
the kind. I am in any case a Netherlander!"

"Netherlander or not, it does not matter. Whosoever one be, every
civilian is shot down by them."

"Are they at a great distance from here?"

"Not at all! If you step outside, you can see them standing, ten
minutes from here. Near Lixhe they threw a bridge across the Meuse.
It is the third already which they put down, for each time they are
smashed from the fort. Oh, it is horrible; there must surely fall a
number of dead, and here we have seen corpses in the Meuse already....
But I do not understand how you ventured to come here...."

Well, I did not quite fancy the prospect of being shot like a dog, and
as I had not yet come into touch with the Germans, it was difficult
to say whether these people exaggerated or not. But just opposite was
Eysden, and I made up my mind to go there for further information.

Netherland soldiers and inhabitants of the village bustled about along
the opposite river-bank. I shouted as loudly as possible; and when at
last I succeeded in drawing their attention, I made them understand
that I wanted to be pulled across in the little boat, which in ordinary
times served as a ferry. A short consultation took place now on the
opposite side, after which a soldier, who clearly possessed a strong
voice, came as near as possible to the waterside and, making a trumpet
of his two hands, roared:

"Not allowed!"

"Why not?"

"We are neutrals!"

"So am I; I am a Netherlander!"

"Possibly! Not allowed!"

And at the same moment he turned round and joined the others.

So I was left there. The Netherlanders refused to pull me across in
consequence of an exaggerated fear of violating their neutrality; the
Germans in front of me intended, it was said, to shoot me down as soon
as I ventured to get near. But to retrace my steps ... that is a thing
I had never done yet. For a few moments I stood there undecided, but
then made up my mind to see what was going to happen, and went on, in
spite of the warnings of the kind-hearted innkeeper and his family, who
called out to me to return.

The terrible thunder of the guns, of both besiegers and besieged,
vibrated through the air. In the distance I noticed a couple of men,
probably German soldiers, but a pontoon-bridge was nowhere to be seen.
After a few minutes, however, I reached a spot where the Meuse makes
a short curve, and had scarcely walked round it, when I saw, only a
couple of hundred yards away, the bridge in question, across which a
long train of vehicles was passing, loaded with victuals, hay, straw,
etc.

On this side hundreds of soldiers were standing; they had taken off
their uniforms in the fierce heat, and were busy loading and unloading
and changing horses. From time to time the entire scene was hidden by
the smoke from numerous burning houses at Lixhe, quite near the river.
I walked in the most casual way, in an unconcerned attitude, looked
calmly at some of the houses I passed, and which were for the greater
part destroyed. The walls were pierced by bullets, the rooms generally
burnt out; in the front gardens lay all sorts of furniture, dragged out
of the house and then smashed to pieces.

The road was all strewn with straw. I approached the bridge past
burning farms and villas. There the pieces of broken furniture were
even lying in the road, and I had to go warily so that I should not
stumble. The soldiers looked at me as if they were amused, but I went
up to them in the same unconcerned manner and asked them to take me to
their commanding officer.

"What do you want with him?"

"I am a Netherland journalist, and want to ask the commander's
permission to go to Liège."

"Oh, you are a Netherlander; then come along."

They took me to two officers who stood near the bridge, and told them
that I "pretended" to be a Netherland journalist. Having proved this by
my papers, the officers gave me an escort of three men, who conducted
me to the bridge-commander, on the other side of the Meuse.

I had to walk along the very edge of the unstable bridge in order
to avoid the wheels of the passing carriages, which shook the whole
bridge and made the rather loose boards clatter. In the meantime, at
no considerable distance, some shells fell in the Meuse, fired at the
bridge from Fort Pontisse. Yet, I did not mind it at all, as all these
new experiences stunned me, so to speak; the incessant hellish noises
of the batteries, the burning houses, the smoke swooping down, the
excited soldiers....

As we crossed the bridge, I asked my escort why these houses were
set on fire. I heard then, for the first time, that "they had been
shooting," and they told me of cowardly civilians, who shot from the
windows at unsuspicious soldiers, or stabbed them treacherously. But
of course they had experienced nothing of the kind; it had happened
to troops who were now moving ahead. They had, however, taken part in
the revenge, and told of it with glittering eyes: how they fired the
houses of francs-tireurs and then shot the people who, nearly stifled,
appeared at the windows; how in "holy" anger, in order to avenge
their comrades, they subsequently entered the houses and destroyed
everything. I did not answer, did not know what to think of it, but
shuddered, because it was so gruesome.

They told this, while we were waiting on a couple of protruding boards
of the pontoon-bridge, so as to allow some extremely wide carts to
pass. Once again shells exploded, a couple of hundred yards behind us,
and one made a hole in the bank quite near.

"Horrible!" I sighed. "Have they not yet hit the bridge?"

"Oh yes, it has been destroyed already a couple of times, but we shall
teach them a lesson! Why did not the Belgians allow us to pass through
their country? What can their little army do against us? As soon as a
sufficient number have crossed we shall go for these forts, then on to
Brussels, and within a fortnight we shall be in Paris. Liège we have
taken already."

"It will cost a great many men!"

"We have plenty of them; but many of us fall by the treacherous
shooting of the civilians; they are swine, swine! And these Belgian
women ... they are the dirtiest bitches ... beastly swine...."

The man got more and more excited, but then he was more than "half-seas
over." The smoke made him cough and he stuck in the middle of his
"swine." He made me shudder, and I hastened to pull out a packet of
cigarettes, some of which I gave to him and his mates. In consequence
the two others became more communicative, and in touching harmony
assured me that:

"Oh yes, the Netherlanders are our friends; they remain neutral. And
that is the best, for otherwise the whole lot would be smashed up,
exactly as here in Belgium."

They did not understand, of course, that poor Belgium would have liked
nothing better than to remain neutral also.

Those wide carts had passed us now, and we could proceed slowly. The
bridge led to a farmhouse with tall trees and underwood. They took me
to the right, to a densely overgrown spot, where a clearing had been
made amidst some smaller shrubs. In the centre stood a table covered
with a shining white cloth, and a goodly number of wine-bottles and
glasses. Half a dozen officers in fine uniforms, gilt collars and
epaulettes, were seated around it.

The sight of that small group, hidden among the green foliage, was
as brilliant as it was surprising. One of the officers, clearly the
highest in rank, summoned us to come nearer, and asked the soldiers
for an explanation. Standing smartly at attention, they gave it, as
a school-child might haltingly recite a lesson learned by heart.
The officer whom I thought it convenient to call "Captain" looked
searchingly at me and then began:

"Have you got papers?"

"Yes, captain."

I pulled them out: birth certificate, certificate of good conduct,
foreign passport, and press-card, which were examined the one after the
other.

"Are they genuine?"

"Of course, captain; everything is properly signed, stamped, and
legalised."

"And what do you want to write about?"

"I don't know yet. The things I see ... and ... of course that cannot
do harm to the German army."

"Hm! Hm! All right. So you intend to write friendly about us?"

"Certainly, certainly, sir! Exactly because we hear so many lies from
foreign countries about the Germans, I want to try and find out the
truth for myself."

"Is that so? Well, the Netherlanders are our friends, and have so much
in common with our people."

"Certainly, captain; as a matter of fact we are of the same race."

But here he looked at me in a curious manner, scrutinising my face,
as if he asked himself: "Is he pulling my leg, or not?" But not a
muscle in my face moved, so that the "Captain" nodded approvingly ...
and wrote out a pass for me to go to Visé! I was not allowed to go to
Liège, for, as he said, he did not yet know himself how matters stood
there. The other officers overwhelmed me with questions: how matters
stood in The Netherlands, and whether Great Britain had already
declared war against us? I think that at that question I looked utterly
perplexed, for in the same breath they told me all they knew about
the danger of war for The Netherlands: Great Britain first sent an
ultimatum to The Netherlands, to force her into joining the Allies
against Germany, and as she had refused, the British Fleet was now
on its way to Flushing. I explained to them in detail that they were
utterly wrong, but they believed only a half of what I said.

There was a continuous coming and going at the bridge-command, for when
I left the shrubberies a great many soldiers of high and low rank, with
portfolios and documents, were waiting outside. The soldiers were to
escort me back across the bridge, so that I might go on to Visé along
the other bank.

Before I got to the bridge I saw something gruesome: a number of
corpses of soldiers were lying about and others were brought in ... a
little farther away, on the farm, there they were digging.... I looked
away quickly; I was not yet accustomed to that sort of thing. Most
likely they were men killed a moment ago by shells aimed at the bridge,
for wounded men were also brought in on stretchers.

At the other end of the bridge I was left by my escort, and went on
alone; on my left the Meuse, on my right burning houses, above me
hissing and whistling shells, that came down in front of me and behind
me, with tremendous explosions, throwing the loose earth high into the
air.

In Devant-le-Pont, a hamlet opposite Visé, the doors of all the houses
stood open, as a sign that the inhabitants did not propose to offer
any resistance to the Germans. After much shouting the landlady of a
café appeared, distressingly nervous, but doing her utmost to look
unconcerned.

"A glass of beer, madame."

"If you please."

"The guns are horrid, madame; are you not afraid?"

"No, sir, we must hope for the best."

"Have the Germans done no harm here yet?"

"Oh no, sir, not at all!"

"Are they tolerably kind?"

"Oh, quite nice people, sir!"

Her reserve told me that I would not get much information here, and,
finishing my beer, I asked:

"How much is it, madame?"

"This? Nothing, sir, nothing."

"Nothing! But, madame, I want to pay for what I drink!"

"No, no, I won't take anything for it. It is hot, is it not, and a
soldier ought to get something...."

I understood only then why the woman was so full of praise of the
Germans, although she was shaking in her shoes: she thought I was a
soldier! How heavily weighed the oppressor's hand on the wretched
population, if now already the honest Belgian heart became hypocritical!

I had great trouble to make her understand that I was a Netherlander;
and that changed at once her opinion for the Germans. She told me then
that her husband and children had fled to The Netherlands, as had most
of the inhabitants, and that she was left behind merely because she
dawdled too long. And now she was constantly afraid that they might
fire her house as they did the others, and murder her ... for such had
been the fate of several of the villagers. Even whole families had been
killed.

Many civilians had been put to death, accused of having shot from the
houses, and others for refusing to give up requisitioned food. Probably
they had none, as preceding military divisions had already taken away
all there was. Then some civilians were killed for refusing to work
for the enemy. The houses of all these "condemned" had been burnt,
and everything the soldiers fancied was looted. As a matter of fact,
nearly all the soldiers I met later on were drunk, and they worried me
constantly. Only when I had proved to be a Netherlander, they behaved
a little better, and started abusing "the cursed Belgians," who,
according to them, were all francs-tireurs.

A short distance beyond this little café lies the large bridge across
the Meuse. Before the Germans arrived it was partly destroyed by the
Belgians, but so inadequately that obviously the enemy could repair
it easily. Bombs were therefore fired regularly from Fort Pontisse at
the bridge, and only an hour ago it had been hit, with the result that
a big hole was made in the undamaged part. In the road also big holes
were made by the exploding projectiles. Having passed underneath the
viaduct of the bridge, I found myself opposite Visé on the sloping bank
of the Meuse. Two boys had been commanded by the Germans to work the
ferry-boat for them, and after I had shown them my passport, they took
me to the other side.

It was a fine summer afternoon, and the sun shone on the many bright,
whitewashed walls of the old and neat little town, built close to the
rapidly flowing river. There was quiet in the streets, although nearly
all the inhabitants were sitting on their chairs in the streets. But
nobody ventured to move about, and conversations were held only in
whispers. As I walked through the village street in my quaint get-up,
they pushed their chairs a little closer together as if frightened, and
looked shyly at me as if they feared that I was not the harbinger of
much good. And all these hundreds of people saluted me humbly, almost
cringingly, which filled me with pity.

Visé had not been burnt yet, as had been reported in The Netherlands.
Only here and there had the shells done some damage, and hundreds of
window-panes had been burst by the vibration of the air. As a token of
submission to the invader, small white flags hung from all the windows,
and these, along the whole length of a street, made a decidedly
lamentable impression.

The inhabitants had already had a variety of experiences. On Tuesday,
August 4th, the first German troops arrived before the little town. The
gendarmes stationed there offered resistance to the invading enemy,
but, being hopelessly outnumbered, they were all shot down. As they
were lying on the ground, badly wounded, Dr. Frits Goffin, head of St.
Hadelin College, came in great haste as soon as he heard the shooting.

All the wounded were Roman Catholics, and as they saw the approaching
priest, they implored him in a loud voice to give them absolution of
sins, some making an act of contrition. The priest was unable to come
near each of them, and therefore called out in a loud voice: "My Jesus,
be merciful!" He then gave them all absolution of sins. But as he
kneeled down to perform this sacred task, a hostile bullet whizzed past
his ear, and several soldiers who ran by aimed at him, so that he had
to seek safety behind a tree. I saw with my own eyes five bullet-holes
in the tree that was pointed out to me.

In those first days many civilians were killed, and not only in Visé,
but still more in the surrounding villages, Mouland and Berneaux, which
were soon burnt down and where many a good man was brought low by the
murderous bullets. The savage soldiers killed the cattle also, and a
large number of carcases had been lying about for days.

At Visé many men had been commanded to do certain kinds of work,
cutting down trees, making of roads, bridges, and so on. Many of them
never returned, because they refused to do the humiliating work and
were shot. Among these there were even aged people; and I myself stood
by the death-bed of a man of ninety, who had been forced to assist in
building a bridge, until the poor wretch broke down and was carried to
St. Hadelin College, turned into a hospital by Dr. Goffin; there he
died.

No wonder that the inhabitants were afraid and looked askance at me as
they mistook me for a German.

On this day, August 8th, the reign of terror was still in full
force. There were repeated threats to burn the town and to kill
the inhabitants if they objected to do work or to deliver certain
goods, especially wine and gin, of which thousands of bottles were
requisitioned daily. Several times a day they were summoned by a bell
and informed what the invader wanted, the necessary threats being added
to the command. And the inhabitants, in mortal fear, no longer trusted
each other, but searched each other's houses for things that might be
delivered to satisfy the Germans.

The entire neighbourhood was still being bombarded from the forts to
the north of Liège; several German divisions succeeded, however, in
crossing the Meuse near Lixhe. In spite of the shell-fire they passed
the pontoon-bridge there, turned into a by-way leading to the canal,
near Haccourt, crossed one of the canal-bridges, of which not one had
been destroyed, and along another by-way, came to the main road from
Maastricht to Tongres, at a spot about three miles from the last-named
town.

The shelling went on during the night, and all that time the
inhabitants remained in their cellars.

Although I had got farther on my way than I had dared to expect, my
journalist's heart longed for more. If I could get to Liège, which
was said to have just been taken! But my passport stated that I was
only allowed to go to Visé. I thought the matter out, and the longer I
thought, the stronger became my desire to go on; and at last I decided
to do it.

Near the outskirts of the town I found barricades which, however,
seemed not to have been used, but stray shells had knocked large pieces
out of the low, wide wall between the road and the Meuse's flowing
water.

There was not much traffic. Only here and there stood some German
soldiers, or seriously wounded men were lying on mattresses and chairs.
Nearly every house by the roadside had been turned into an emergency
hospital, for from all sides they brought in soldiers wounded by shells
that had exploded amidst the advancing divisions.

The road along which I walked, the main road between Visé and Liège,
was laid under fire from various forts, and every moment I saw on my
left clouds rise up from the rocky heights that run along the whole
of the Meuse. These clouds were partly formed by smoke from the guns
mounted by the Germans against the forts, partly by volumes of earth
thrown up by the projectiles from the broken-up soil.

I myself ran great risks too, but I did not mind, and walked on, moved
by a consuming desire to get to Liège, and then back to Maastricht, to
be able to wire to my paper that I had been to Liège only just after it
was taken by the Germans, and that the news, wired from Germany to the
Netherland papers, that the forts had been taken was untrue.

I had a short chat with the wounded men near the various houses, on
demand showed my passport to those in authority, and was advised as
a friendly Netherlander to return, as it was extremely dangerous on
the road. But I did not dream of doing this, as long as I was not
compelled, and went on towards Liège amidst this maddening thunder.

I had walked another three miles, when a big crowd of fugitives met
me. They seemed to have come a long way, for the majority could hardly
walk on, and had taken off their shoes and boots, on account of the
scorching heat, going on barefooted in the shade of the tall trees.
It was a procession, numbering hundreds of men, women, and children.
The aged were supported, the babies carried. Most of them had a small
parcel on their back or under their arm. They seemed tired to death,
had dark red faces, and betrayed great fear and nervousness. I crossed
the road to speak to them, and as soon as they noticed it the whole
crowd, numbering hundreds of people, stood still, creeping closer
together, women and girls trying hard to hide themselves behind the
men, and these doffed their caps timidly.

I was really sorry that I had dressed myself in that grey Norfolk suit,
long stockings, a knapsack strapped to the back, and a leather strap
with a water-bottle. The unfortunate creatures thought that I was a
German soldier. I was bewildered for a moment, but then guessed their
thoughts and hastened to comfort them.

I could not get much information from them. Twenty spoke at the same
time; in halting, incoherent words they tried to tell me of their
experiences, but I could only catch: killed ... murders ... fire ...
guns.... After much trouble I gathered that they came from the villages
to the north of Liège, where the Germans had told them that on that
same day, within an hour, everything would be burned down. Everybody
had left these places, a good many had gone to Liège, but these
people did not think it safe there either, and wanted to go on to The
Netherlands.

After giving them some advice how to get to The Netherlands, and
offering some words of sympathy, I wanted to go on, but as they
realised this, the poor, kind creatures surrounded me; many women began
to weep, and from all sides they cried:

"To Liège? You want to go to Liège? But, sir!--but, sir! We fled to
escape death, because the Germans are going to burn down everything and
shoot everybody. Please don't, sir; they'll kill you ... kill you ...
shoot you ... kill you!"

"Come, come," I replied, touched by the kind anxiety of these people.
"Come, come; it won't be as bad as all that, and, then, I am a
Netherlander."

That "being a Netherlander" had become my stock-argument, and, as a
matter of fact, it made me feel calmer. Quietly I made myself free of
the surrounding crowd, in order to proceed on my way; but then they
got hold of my arms and gently tried to induce me to go with them, so
I had to speak more firmly to make them understand that they could not
prevail on me. When at last I was able to resume my march, they looked
back frequently, shaking their heads, and in their anxiety for me,
their fellow-creature, they seemed to forget for a moment their own
hardly bearable sorrows.

A moment later a gigantic motor-car came racing down at a great speed.
Six soldiers stood up in it, their rifles pointed at me. I thought that
they intended to shoot me and everybody they might meet, but a seventh
soldier standing by the side of the chauffeur made a movement with his
arms, from which I understood that he wanted me to put my hands up. I
did so.

It is a simple affair, this putting up one's hands, but even at such a
moment a free citizen has a strong objection against being compelled to
this by others, who are no more than one's self, who ask it without any
right, except the might derived from the weapon in their hands.

When they had passed, I looked round at the people I had left a moment
ago.... There they lay in the road, kneeling, lifting their trembling
hands, although the motor-car was already a couple of hundred yards
away.

Argenteau was not damaged much, but the inhabitants remained quietly
inside their houses, or probably stayed in their cellars, for fear of
the shells that tore through the air constantly.

By and by I began to feel that I had already walked about twenty miles
in this great heat, but I would not think of stopping before reaching
my goal.

At Cherath railway-carriages were lying in the road at the
level-crossing of Visé-Liège line, farther on barbed-wire cut into
pieces, felled trees, and so on. German soldiers had moved these things
out of the way, and motor-cars could pass by again. In the village
itself I saw a man, with a white armlet, posting up a bill, and as
I had seen similar damp bills sticking on the walls in the other
villages, I drew nearer to read it.

The bill ran as follows:--

    "Community of ...

    "_To the inhabitants._

    "The powerful German army, victorious in our district, has promised
    to respect our land and private possessions.

    "In the circumstances in which we are placed it is necessary to
    retain the greatest possible tranquillity and calm.

    "The burgomaster informs the population that any utterance contrary
    to the regulations will be severely punished.

                                                     "THE BURGOMASTER."

The bill-poster replied "yes" or "no" to my questions, whichever answer
fitted, and as soon as he had finished his task he hurriedly trotted
off. I did not see any other inhabitant.

Outside Cherath a motor-car stood between some partially removed trees.
Two officers and three soldiers stood around a map which they had laid
on the ground, and with them was a young girl, scarcely twenty years
old. She was weeping, and pointed out something on the map, obviously
compelled to give information. One of the officers stopped me, was
clearly quite satisfied with my papers, but told me that I was not
allowed to go on without a permit from the military command. Then I
pulled out of my pocket, as if of great importance, the scrap of paper
which the commanding officer at the bridge near Lixhe had given me. The
other had scarcely seen the German letters and German stamp when he
nodded his head approvingly, and quickly I put the thing back, so that
he might not notice that I was allowed only to go to Visé.

At Jupile I saw a pontoon-bridge, not in use for the moment. Just
before this place a slightly sloping road leads from the hills to
the eastern bank of the Meuse and the main road Visé-Liège. Along
this road descended at that moment an immense military force--uhlans,
cuirassiers, infantry, more cuirassiers, artillery, munition and
forage-carts. The train seemed endless, and although I stood there
looking at it for quite a long time, the end had not passed me.

It was an imposing sight to see all these various divisions in their
brilliant uniforms coming down along the road, the soldiers' uniforms
still without a stain, the horses in new, fine, strong leather harness,
and the rumbling and jolting guns. The soldiers sang patriotic songs,
and among them rode the officers, proud and imperious, many with a
monocle, looking round superciliously.

I was the only civilian in that road, and the soldiers, with much
curiosity, stared at me. Whenever I noticed an officer, I gave an
elaborate military salute, and with such an air that the officers,
although hesitating at first, did not fail to return the salute.

After reaching the main road they turned to the right towards Visé,
probably in order to try to cross the Meuse near Lixhe and then proceed
to Tongres along the above-mentioned road. It would not be an easy
undertaking, for the forts refused to keep silent, and already many a
wounded man was carried on a comrade's horse.

Liège now loomed up in the distance, and the nearer I got, the more
civilians I met. They all wore a white armlet, and walked timidly
and nervously by the side of the road or street, starting at each
thunder-clap of the guns. Near the entrance to the town a small crowd
stood on one of the hills, looking at a flying-machine moving from fort
to fort and over the city, obviously investigating the effect of the
German siege-guns.

At seven o'clock in the evening I entered Liège; and so far I had
achieved my end.




CHAPTER II

IN LIÈGE AND BACK TO MAASTRICHT


A GLORIOUS summer evening, quite refreshing after the exhausting heat
of the day. Nature invited to restfulness, and so much the more cruel
sounded the incessant thunder of the guns, which also boomed from the
citadel. As soon as the Germans had taken possession of this old,
dilapidated fortress they proceeded to drag their guns on to it, and
trained them on the surrounding forts.

The streets offered the same aspect as those at Visé. From each house
floated the pitiful little white flag; the people sat together on their
"stoeps," for they did not venture out in the streets. Everywhere I
was again saluted in the same cringingly polite manner, and eyed with
suspicion.

Crowds of soldiers moved through the main streets, revelling, shouting,
screaming in their mad frenzy of victors. They sat, or stood, or danced
in the cafés, and the electrical pianos and organs had been started
again "by order." Doors and windows were opened wide, and through
the streets sounded forth the song "Deutschland über Alles" (Germany
before all other), which affected the inhabitants as a provocation and
a challenge. Oh! one could see so clearly how thousands of citizens
suffered from it, how they felt hurt in their tenderest sentiments.
Dull and depressed they stared in front of them, and whenever their set
features relaxed, it was a scornful grin.

From warehouses and from shops bales of corn, flour, sugar, and other
goods were taken, thrown in heaps and then placed on all sorts of carts
and motors. In the most frequented parts military bands had taken their
stand, and played amidst the loud jubilation of the soldiers.

I walked about a little longer to examine the damage done. The fine
_Pont des Arches_ was for the greater part destroyed by the retreating
Belgians, as well as the _Pont Maghin_. This is a pity, especially as
regards the first-named bridge, so famous as a work of art, and the
more so as other bridges had not been touched and could be used by the
Germans. The bombardment did not damage the town to any great extent,
but it was remarkable that the largest houses had suffered most.

Having walked some thirty miles that day, I began to feel a serious
need for rest. But when I applied, there was no room anywhere in the
hotels, and where there was room they told me the contrary after a
critical glance at my outfit.

I then tried to find the nunnery of the _Sœurs de la Miséricorde_,
where one of my cousins had taken the veil. At last, in the Rue des
Clarisses I found the huge door of the monastery, and rang the bell.
After a few moments a small trellised shutter in the stout door was
opened ajar, and a tremulous voice asked in French what I wanted. I
assumed that it was one of the nuns, but I could see nothing through
that narrow jar.

"Sister," I said, "I am a cousin of Sœur Eulalie, and should like to
see her, to know how she is and take her greetings to her family in The
Netherlands."

"Sœur Eulalie!... Sœur Eulalie!... You ... you ... are a ... cousin ...
of ... Sœur Eulalie?"

The terrified little sister was unable to stammer anything more, and in
great fear suddenly closed the little shutter again.

There I was left! After waiting a while I rang the bell once more, and
once more the little shutter was opened in the same timid manner.

"Now, look here, sister, I am a cousin of Sœur...."

"No, no, sir, your cousin ... is not here."

Bang! The shutter was closed again. But I did not give it up, for I
needed the sisters' assistance to find a shelter somewhere. Once more
I made the bell to clang, and although I was kept waiting a little
longer, at last I heard voices whispering behind the gate and once more
something appeared behind the trellis.

"Sister," I said then, "if you will only ask Sœur Eulalie to come to
this gate she will recognise me, of course?"

"She is your cousin, you say?"

"Certainly, sister. Tell her that Bart of Uncle Henry is here." Again I
was switched off, but the communication was this time restored after a
few moments, and then I heard a joyful and surprised exclamation:

"Oh! Bart, is it you?"

So at last the lock of the heavy door screeched, and I was admitted.
I noticed that about a score of sisters had gathered behind the gate
and were anxiously discussing the "strange occurrence." My meeting
with Sœur Eulalie, however, was so cordial that the good nuns lost all
anxiety, and I was taken inside accompanied by nearly all the inmates
of the convent.

They first wanted me to explain what put it into my head to come to
Liège, and how I had managed to get there; but as the sisters heard of
my empty stomach and my thirty miles, they would not listen to another
word before I had put myself round a good square meal.

In the meantime they themselves had a word or two to say about the
fright I gave them; for when I stood at the door they mistook me in my
sporting habit for a German officer, and the top of my water-bottle for
the butt of a revolver!

The work of these sisters is the education of neglected children, and
they spoke about their fears during the last momentous days. During the
bombardment they stayed night and day with all those little ones in the
heavily vaulted cellars of the nunnery, praying all the time before the
Blessed Sacrament that had been removed from the chapel and taken into
the cellar for safety.

They constantly heard the boom, boom of the shells exploding near by,
and each time thought that their last hour had struck. The gloomy
cellar depressed them still more, and nobody really believed that
there was any chance of being saved. So the little sisters prayed on,
preparing each other for death, and looking for the approaching end in
quiet resignation.

For the moment all they knew was that the Germans were in the town, as
none of them yet had ventured outside the building. At present their
great fear was that Germans might be billeted on them.... Oh! they
might take everything if only they did not come themselves.

When I left I got a lot of addresses of relations in The Netherlands,
and undertook to send a postcard to each of these. They also gave me
an introduction to the proprietor of an hotel whom they knew, in which
they asked him to give me a bed; and thus armed I succeeded at last.
It was high time too, for at nine o'clock everyone had to be at home.
In the hotel everything was dark, for there was no gas in the town. At
last I could lie down on my bed, and had a good rest, although I could
not sleep a wink. I was too tired and had seen and experienced too much
that day.

The next morning at six I was out and about again. I had not been
able to get any breakfast, for the people themselves had nothing.
The Germans had called at all the hotels and shops requisitioning
everything in stock to feed the thousands who had invaded Liège like so
many locusts. The inhabitants practically starved during those days,
and carefully saved up bits of bread already as hard as bricks. It
was a good thing that the night before I had eaten something at the
nunnery, for although at a shop I offered first one, and later on two
francs for a piece of bread, I could not get any.

All the forts thundered away again, and the guns of the Germans were
also busy on the citadel and the various surrounding heights. Already
early in the morning a terrible and suffocating smoke of fire and
gunpowder hovered over Liège. The smoke came down also from the burning
villages, like Bressoux, on the slopes of the hills near Liège. The
flames flared up from the houses and offered a melancholy sight.

German officers told me, with full particulars, how the inhabitants
of those burning villages had offered German soldiers poisoned cocoa,
coffee, and cigarettes, for which crime three hundred civilians had
been shot during the night in a Liège square.

As even high officers told me those things, not without some emotion,
I began to believe them and wrote something about them to my paper.
But what was made clear to me at a later visit! That there was not a
word of truth in the whole story of that poisoning; that on that day
and in that square no shooting had taken place; that a couple of days
before the population had been ordered to leave their houses within two
hours without any reason being given; and afterwards several houses had
simply been burned down.

The Liège people were already up and about, and wandered through
the streets full of fear, for all sorts of rumours were heard--that
civilians were murdered, the town was to be burned down, and that a
start would be made very soon. As they looked at those burning hamlets
yonder they believed the rumours, and went nearly mad for fear; the men
as well as the women could not help themselves, and wept. During the
night various posters were stuck on the walls about military action.
The following is the translation of one of these:--

    "The municipal Government of Liège remind their fellow-citizens,
    and all staying within this city, that international law most
    strictly forbids civilians to commit hostilities against the German
    soldiers occupying the country.

    "Every attack on German troops by others than the military in
    uniform not only exposes those who may be guilty to be shot
    summarily, but will also bring terrible consequences on leading
    citizens of Liège now detained in the citadel as hostages by the
    Commander of the German troops. These hostages are:--

    "1. The Right Rev. Rutten, bishop of Liège.
    "2. Kleyer, burgomaster of Liège.
    "3. Grégoire, permanent deputy.
    "4. Armand Fléchet, senator.
    "5. Van Zuylen, senator.
    "6. Eduard Peltzer, senator.
    "7. Colleaux, senator.
    "8. de Ponthière, member of the Town Council.
    "9. Van Hoeyaerden, member of the Town Council.
    "10. Falloise, alderman.

    "Bishop Rutten and Mr. Kleyer are allowed to leave the citadel for
    the present, but remain at the disposition of the German commanders
    as hostages.

    "We beseech all residents in the municipality to guard the highest
    interests of all the inhabitants and of those who are hostages of
    the German Army, and not to commit any assault on the soldiers of
    this army.

    "We remind the citizens that by order of the general commanding the
    German troops, those who have arms in their possession must deliver
    them immediately to the authorities at the Provincial Palace under
    penalty of being shot.

                                               "The Acting Burgomaster,
                                                           "V. HENAULT.

  "LIÈGE,
  "August 8th."

Fear reigned everywhere in the bustling streets; people shouted at each
other that the villages burned already, that by and by they would start
with the town, that all civilians would be killed, and other terrible
things. The Germans looked at all this with cynical composure, and when
I asked some of them what the truth was, they shrugged their shoulders,
said that they knew nothing about it, but that it might be true,
because all Belgians were swine who shot at the soldiers or poisoned
them. All of them were furious because the Belgians did not allow them
to march through their country.

Fugitives arrived from the surrounding villages, who also spoke of
nothing but arson, destruction, and murder. They frightened the Liège
population still more, hundreds of whom packed up some of their
belongings and fled. They stumbled and fell across the barricades in
the streets, blinded as they were by fear, and blinded also by the
smoke which settled down on the city and polluted the air.

Matters stood so in Liège on the morning of August 9th, when the second
day of the occupation by the Germans had not yet passed. The Belgian
field army, which had bravely defended the ground under the protection
of the forts, and inflicted heavy losses upon the Germans, had to
retreat before their superior numbers, leaving the further defence of
the Meuse to the forts. But a high price had been paid for Liège, for
the German losses were immense, and on the ninth they were still busy
burying their dead. The Germans lost many men, especially near Lixhe
and the Forts Bachon and Fleron.

At that moment the possession of Liège was of little advantage to the
Germans, as on this 9th of August the Belgians still held all the
forts. This was the most important news that I was about to send to The
Netherlands, for when I left the Netherland newspapers had published
the news wired from Berlin that all the forts had fallen.

But the Germans were efficient, for during the night they had laid down
the rails on which in the morning they transported parts of the heavy
ordnance that would demolish all the Belgian defences.

A few minutes after I left the town a scene drew my attention. A lady
stood there with a little girl; the lady seemed to urge the child to
do something to which it objected. She refused to take a bag full of
various small parcels pressed upon her, and clutched hold of the lady's
skirts. I wanted to know what was the matter, got a little nearer, and
was amazed to hear them both speak Netherland. I could not help asking
what the trouble was and whether I might be of service.

"No, no, sir," the lady said. "Oh, oh, it is so terrible! By and by the
Germans will burn Liège and kill us all. She is the little daughter of
my brother at Maastricht, and came to visit us a few days before war
broke out, but now she will be killed too, for she refuses to go away."

"But, madame, you do not mean to send that child to Maastricht by
itself?"

"It must be done, surely, it must be done! That is her only chance of
escape, and if she stops here she will be killed with the rest of us.
Oh!... oh!..."

"But really, madame, that is only senseless gossip of the people. You
need not be afraid, the Germans will not be so cruel as all that!"

"Not? Oh! they are sure to do it. All the villages are burning already.
The smoke suffocates us here. In Bressoux there is not a house left
standing, and in other villages all civilians have been killed, men,
women, and children. Not even the tiniest babies escaped.... Oh!... and
now it is Liège's turn!"

I knew about Bressoux. I had seen the flames burst out from many
houses, and I had reliable information also from other villages about
the slaughter that took place there, although this lady of course
exaggerated when she said that "not even the tiniest babies escaped."

Need I say that I did all I could to make the woman a little more
reasonable, and make her understand that it would not do to let a child
of ten walk by itself from Liège to Maastricht, and least of all in
these dire times. But I could not make her see this, and this instance
proves all the more, perhaps, how upset the inhabitants of Liège were
that morning; they were nearly out of their senses for fear.

Of course I did not allow the little girl to go by herself, but took
her with me. It was a wearying expedition in the excessive heat of
that day. Very soon the child was no longer able to carry her small
belongings, and, though already sufficiently loaded myself, I had to
take her bundle as well. She was scarcely able to walk more than a
thousand yards at a stretch, and had then to sit down on the grass by
the roadside and rest. She did not quite understand what was going on,
but she had an undefined feeling of fear on that long, deserted road,
where we did not meet anybody except some well-hidden or stealthily
moving German patrols who suddenly pointed their rifles at us.

After the explanations required of us they allowed us to go on. The
incessant roar of the guns made the girl tremble for fear, and the
stinging smoke made her cough. After much trouble we got at last as far
as Herstal, where I had promised her a short rest.

This fine large village, actually a suburb of Liège, was quite
deserted, not a living being was to be seen. I entered shops and
cafés, called at the top of my voice, but got no reply anywhere. I was
inclined to believe that everybody had fled. And they would have been
quite right too, for huge columns of smoke rose up from the heights
around the place, four or five in a row, after a booming and rolling
peal like thunder had seemed to rend the sky.

The German artillery had taken up their positions here, and bombarded
the forts in their immediate neighbourhood. These did not fail to
answer, and rained shells on the enemy's batteries. One heard their
hissing, which came nearer and nearer, until they fell on the slopes
or the tops of the hills and burst with a terrific explosion. Many a
time we saw this happen only a few hundred yards away. Then the air
trembled, and I felt as if my legs were blown from underneath me.
Broken windows too fell clattering on the "stoeps."

We entered another café, and once more I shouted for the inhabitants
at the top of my voice. At last I heard a feeble sound somewhere in
the hall, which I entered, but as I saw no one there, I called out
once more. Then I heard distinctly, and knew whence the answer came. I
opened a door, behind which stairs led to the cellar, and from there I
was at last able to speak to some of the Herstal people. I heard that
all of them stayed in their cellars for fear of the bombardment.

My request to allow the child to stay at the café for half an hour was
granted, and I went through the village towards the place whence the
German batteries sent their destructive fire. At last I got as far as
the top of a hill, from which I could see two forts shrouded in a cloud
of smoke, which was also the case with the German batteries.

I could not stop there long, for I was actually within range. I saw a
number of shells explode and twice hit a farmhouse, which was destroyed
for the greater part. So I returned as quickly as possible to my little
protégée, and went on with her, following the road as far as the canal,
and then along this to Maastricht.

On one of the hills, slightly to the south of Haccourt, on the west
bank of the Meuse and the canal, a German battery was firing at Fort
Pontisse. The gunners there were quite kind, and they felt no fear
at all, for although they shelled the fort continuously, it seemed
that nothing was done by way of reply to their fire. The shells from
the fort flew hissing over our heads, in the direction of Lixhe,
which proved that Fort Pontisse was still chiefly busy with the
pontoon-bridge at that place.

Until now we had walked along the right bank of the canal, until
we crossed one of the many bridges. The little girl was well-nigh
exhausted; from time to time I gave her a rest, and then again I
carried her a part of the way.

A good many soldiers were lying round about the high cement factory
of Haccourt. The factory itself seemed to be used as a station
for observations, for suddenly a voice roared from a top window:
"Stop those people!" And we were stopped and taken to a small table
where three officers were sitting drinking wine. The colonel asked
for my papers, which he did not consider sufficient, as I had no
passport from some German military authority. So I drew out again the
bridge-commander's scrap of paper which said that I was permitted to go
from Lixhe to Visé.

"Is this then the road to Visé?"

"No, sir, I am returning from there."

"Where then is Visé?"

"That way, sir!"

"That way? But how did you get here then?"

"You see, sir, the bridge across the Meuse has been destroyed, and in
order to get back I had to walk first towards ... towards ... Liège ...
and ... and ... and then they ferried me over somewhere down there, and
told me that I had to go along the canal to get to Maastricht."

"Is that so? Well, it is not very clear! And that little girl?"

"That is a Netherland girl, sir, who was staying at her aunt's at Liège
... I mean to say at Visé, and whom I take now with me to Maastricht."

The officer went on shaking his head at my answers, and I felt as if
this might be the end of my fine little adventure. But I could not tell
him that I had gone to Liège with that permit for Visé!

At Fort Pontisse or Lierce they seemed to have noticed that the factory
was a station for observation. As the officer was still thinking about
my case, one of those infernal monster shells crashed down among a
group of soldiers, only some yards away. Those who were not hit ran
away, but they came back soon, and took up seven or eight comrades,
whom they carried into the factory. I shuddered when I saw what had
happened, and through the shock the sight gave me I involuntarily
jerked my arms.

"Stand still!" the officer thundered.

He looked for a moment at the spot where the deaths happened, from
which the victims were carried away, and then suddenly asked in a
kinder tone of voice:

"Is there any further news about the war in The Netherlands?"

I saw that I must take advantage of his changed mood and his curiosity,
and I hastened to reply:

"Yes, that the French are advancing towards Liège, and that the British
have landed in Belgium."

"What?"

"It is as I tell you!"

"But are you sure? Where are the French now, and where did the British
land?"

"Well, all the Netherland papers have extensive official reports about
it. The French are now at Namur and the British landed troops at
Ostend...."

"Wait! wait! wait!"

Quickly he summoned an orderly and gave some orders, and a few minutes
later four more officers drew round the table, on which a large map of
Belgium was displayed. Their tone became at once charmingly sweet and
kind, and a soldier offered me some lemonade from small bottles kept
cool in a basin filled with cold water.

I did not feel very comfortable after what had happened to those
soldiers who lost their lives so cruelly sudden, or in any case had
been seriously wounded, while the officers took little notice of them.
But it was desirable to behave as discreetly as possible, and so to get
a permit to Maastricht.

I had to repeat everything about the advance of the French and the
landing of the British, whilst they followed my story on the map. But
I was soon in a cold sweat, for of course I knew practically nothing,
neither of the French nor of the British, and each time when one of
the officers pressed for details I was in mortal fear that I might
contradict myself. But I stuck to my guns until the end, and assured
them that the French had crossed the Belgian frontier near Givet, and
were now near Namur, whereas the British, disembarking at Ostend, had
advanced as far as Ghent.

As soon as they had got all the information they required, the
commanding officer ordered a patrol of cyclists of six men to leave
their kit and rifles behind, but to take a Browning, and deliver a
rapidly written letter at Liège.

They were now very friendly, and spoke even with great kindliness about
the Netherlanders in general. They let me proceed also on my way to
Maastricht, giving me their best wishes.

My little protégée was, however, soon very tired and complained that
her feet ached. I had to carry her for nearly a mile and a half before
we arrived at the Netherland Custom House, where I left her behind, as
she was now safe. I went on to Maastricht alone, wired to my paper, and
then saw the worried, but soon extremely happy parents of the little
girl. They went at once to the Netherland frontier to take their child
home.

I had succeeded. I had been in Liège, the first foreign journalist
who got there after her fall, and was able to contradict the numerous
reports about the conquest of the forts which had made the round of the
newspapers for several days.




CHAPTER III

ROUND ABOUT LIÈGE


DURING the fights round the forts I made a good many tours and was
able to contradict several German reports about alleged successes. The
atrocities in the villages around Liège did not cease, and constantly
fresh crowds of refugees came to Maastricht.

In order to examine once more the state of affairs around Liège, I
decided to pay another visit to that town.

Starting in the early morning of August 15th, I arrived at Visé without
much trouble, after having been led across the Lixhe bridge once more.
Since my first visit the bridge had been destroyed three times over,
and this new one seemed very weak. As I stood there looking at it, a
motor lorry had to cross it, and the bridge gave way near the bank.
Another motor had then to pull the lorry up to the top of the bank, and
this made the bridge give way still further.

For the rest the transports were not much troubled now, for obviously
the bridge was no longer the objective of the Belgian guns. At Visé I
was even told that Fort Pontisse had just been taken and only Lierce
could harass the troops, who, after crossing the bridge, advanced
towards Tongeren.

Many things had happened at Visé since my first visit. Under the
pretext that the church spire could indicate to Fort Pontisse in which
direction to shoot, paraffin had been poured over church and spire
and fire set to them. It was a venerable ancient structure, built ten
centuries ago, the fine stained windows of which were well known.

The inhabitants looked upon the church as a special sanctuary, as the
bones of St. Hadelin were kept there. Before the fire these relics had
been removed to the vicarage secretly, and then to St. Hadelin College,
the only large building that escaped the general destruction next day.

Immediately after the church was set on fire, the dean was arrested, as
well as the burgomaster and five reverend sisters. These last-mentioned
had been in prison a fortnight, when at last the Germans discovered
that the little sisters were of German nationality. The Very Reverend
Dean had been treated very badly during his captivity.

There was dire want in the little town, for the Germans had been
requisitioning everything until there was nothing left. And as during
the first days of the war all traffic had been stopped, it was
impossible to bring in fresh supplies. The pieces of bread the people
still had were like bricks, and several days old; and yet I could not
get any of it.

But the German troops had ample provisions for themselves, and as an
officer noticed that I went all over the town to find some food in
one of the restaurants, he offered me, the "friendly" Netherlander,
something to eat at the Guard House. This I declined, however, for I
could not have enjoyed bread taken from the starving population.

There was still a real reign of terror, and constantly the town-crier's
bell was heard in the streets, informing the people that the victors
required something or other. Only a few days ago it was announced that
all bicycles had to be delivered at the bridge within twenty-four
hours. Any person who after that time was found in possession of such a
vehicle would be shot, and his house burned down. With similar threats
all arms were requisitioned, but with the explicit addition that this
referred also to old, and broken arms, or those which had been taken
to pieces. Eatables and drinkables were also constantly claimed under
threats of arson.

From Visé I went again across the Meuse to the road along the canal.
Nearing Haccourt, I noticed that Fort Pontisse was actually silent,
but Lierce still in full action. The Germans had mounted long-range
guns on the hills between Lancey and Haccourt, whence they could place
Fort Lierce under fire. A German officer, after some coaxing, allowed
me to witness the operations for a short time. I found a place near
some heavy guns, and sat down amid some underwood. The shooting from
Lierce was very fierce, but only by the plumes of smoke could I tell
whereabouts the fort might be. The shells came down near us, but during
the half hour of my stop not one made a hit. They all fell short of us.

It was a cruel sight. At a tolerably quick pace hundreds of soldiers
marched out in the direction of the fort, dragging light ordnance with
them. One of the officers explained to me that the big guns could not
yet operate here; and now a division of foot-artillery was commanded to
occupy a small hill near the fort. The big guns had to support them on
the way. The guns roared as if all the thunderbolts of heaven had been
flung into space. The smoke of the powder poisoned the air and made me
cough. Gradually my surroundings were enveloped in a thin haze, which
became denser and more suffocating the longer the guns roared. And
at last those hundreds of men, dragging their guns along the byways,
looked merely like shades.

For quite a quarter of an hour they seemed to proceed successfully, as
obviously not one shell exploded in their neighbourhood. But suddenly
all along their line dark masses several yards high rose up. This
was the effect of numerous exceedingly well-aimed shells on the dry,
loose sand. Soon the men were surrounded by those thick clouds of
dust, and only during the first few minutes I saw here and there one
of those shades in human form tumble down, evidently hit by one of the
projectiles. Then I saw nothing for a long while, excepting the thick
wall of dust, which seemed to remain standing up, for constantly the
shells threw up anew the earth that had only just fallen down.

The dust-wall extended gradually as the distance grew covered by the
Germans in their flight to their former positions. But at last we saw
the first men emerge in complete disorder from that driving cloud.
Some on the right, others on the left, here and there also small
groups which courageously dragged their guns with them, as they saved
themselves from that infernal downpour.

Five minutes later the smoke had disappeared almost, and I was able to
see what had happened on the field in front of me. Terrible! On all
sides lay scattered the lads, who but a short time ago started with
so much enthusiasm, and here and there a gun knocked over, five, six
corpses lying around it.

In front of me, behind me, on all sides, the guns boomed, clouds of
dust and smoke filled the air, making it impossible to see much, which
made the awe and terror endurable; but after the air became clear
again, and the sun shed glowing light on the beautiful fields, it was
terrible to think that all those dots in the plain were the bodies of
young men, cruelly crushed by the infernal products of human ingenuity.
It was agony to see here and there a body rising up, merely to fall
down again immediately, or an arm waving as if invoking help.

And by my side stood officers and soldiers raging and cursing. To
them came the returning men, blood running along their faces from
insignificant wounds, and they bawled and bellowed, and thundered
with a thousand curses that they wanted to go back and try again. How
ghastly they rolled their eyes in frenzied excitement! Some pointing at
me asked the officer who I was, and he explained. Then I had to listen
to endless imprecations against the civilian population of Belgium,
who, according to them, consisted entirely of francs-tireurs, who all
of them deserved to be shot, and to have their houses burned down. To
repeat the coarse words which they sputtered out in their rage would
only cause disgust.

The officer assured me that a new effort would be made soon, as they
were commanded to take Pontisse and Lierce at any price, the seventh
and ninth regiment of foot-artillery of Cologne being selected for the
purpose.

I did not want to witness that second attack, and, after thanking the
officer, resumed my journey along the canal-road to Liège.

Near Herstal the Germans were crossing by the large bridge, which the
Belgians had preserved to their own disadvantage.

In Liège things were no longer so depressing as at the time of my first
visit. There was some traffic in the streets, and by order of the
German authorities the shops had been reopened.

In a meadow east of the city I saw three big guns mounted, the biggest
I had seen as yet. They kept up a continuous and powerful cannonade at
the forts near the town, that had not yet been taken. There were three
of them left, of which Loncin was the most important.

A little farther away they were still busy with Lierce, but excepting
these four, all the forts were now taken by the Germans. I stood there
for a moment, gazing at these cannon, the presence of which was clearly
unknown to the Belgians, for their artillery took no notice of them.
Only the day before these guns had started shelling the forts, and on
the evening of August 15th they had silenced two of them; but Loncin
kept up the fight.

During the evening I was granted an audience by the Right Reverend
Monseigneur Rutten, Bishop of Liège. The venerable, aged prelate
received me very affably, but he was deeply impressed by the terrible
fate that had overwhelmed his poor native country. He himself had
suffered exceedingly bad treatment at the hands of the Germans. First
he and the other hostages were imprisoned in the citadel, where he
was locked up in a small shanty, with a leaking roof, so that the
torrential rain entered it freely. Wet and cold, the Bishop passed that
day without being offered any food, and, as stated above, was at last
allowed to go home.

He told me a good many other instances of ill-treatment, but as I gave
him my word of honour not to mention them, my mouth is sealed. He
himself was visited a few days later by the German commanding general,
who offered his apologies.

That same evening many more houses were burned down, more particularly
in Outre-Meuse, although no valid reason was given for that.

The next day, Sunday, August 16th, I was already about at five o'clock
in the morning, and soon witnessed some historical shots. In the park
on one of the boulevards the Germans had been digging for two days,
and prepared a firm foundation upon which big guns might be mounted. I
saw one of these guns that morning, and at about half-past five three
shots were fired from it at short intervals, by which Fort Loncin was
completely destroyed, as was indicated by the terrific explosions which
followed the third shot. After these shots I was quite benumbed for
several minutes; in all the streets of Liège they caused the greatest
commotion, which became all the greater because large numbers of
cavalry happened to ride through the town, and all the horses started
rearing.

Was the gun I had seen there one of the notorious forty-two centimetre
monsters? I should not like to wager my head in affirming that. It
was an inordinately unwieldy and heavy piece of ordnance, but during
the first days of the war nothing or very little had yet been said or
written about these forty-two's, and I did not pay sufficient attention
to the one I saw. Only after the fall of Loncin did all those articles
about the forty-two's appear in the papers, and the Germans certainly
asserted that they destroyed Loncin by means of such a cannon.

But it is equally certain that at Liège as well as at Namur and Antwerp
the Austrian thirty-point-five mortars were used, siege-guns chiefly,
and these were taken by the German soldiers for forty-two's. These
Austrian mortars were equally misnamed in German, French, and even
Netherland illustrated papers.

However, the effect of these Austrian mortars was terrible enough. I
could not form a correct opinion about them by the sound of the shot;
and only those who were in the fort that was hit were able to realise
the terrific results. Hence the interest of the report by an officer,
who escaped after having been made a prisoner at Loncin. He told my
colleague of _De Tijd_ at Antwerp about it. After having related how,
during nearly ten days, the fort had been defended heroically and
resolutely, he gave the following description of the final struggle:--

    "On August 14th, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, the
    expected storm burst; for twenty-five hours the invisible
    siege-guns poured their torrent of projectiles on the fort. Flares
    of fire and dense clouds of smoke belched through the crevices.
    As the enemy's batteries could not be located, their fire could
    not be answered. The artillerists of the garrison were then taken
    to the spacious chief gallery, which offered a safe refuge under
    its vault, about two and a half to three yards thick. Outside the
    sentries were watching. In the parts near the entrance it was
    unendurable; the heavy projectiles from the guns mounted in the
    town had nibbled away the outer wall, only a yard and a half thick.
    There were as yet no casualties among the garrison; calmly they
    waited for the infernal tempest to subside and the enemy to storm
    the fort, for they had sworn to repulse the assault.

    "General Leman, Commander Naessens, and all the officers were
    splendid in their imperturbable courage. They found the words that
    went straight to the hearts of their men. These fellows looked more
    like bronze statues than human beings. The projectiles hammered
    at the walls and smashed huge pieces, penetrating into the parts
    near the entrance. The rest of the fort withstood splendidly
    the hurricane of hostile steel and fire. During the night the
    bombardment stopped, and then the commanding officer went to
    inspect the cupolas.

    "The larger ones had suffered little; but the majority were jammed
    by fragments of concrete and steel, which struck between the armour
    and the front-armour. The small quick-fire cupolas had not been
    touched by any projectile. 'It is all right,' he said, 'we shall be
    able to repulse the enemy's attack.'

    "At dawn the bombardment started again, but only the front was
    seriously damaged. The garrison stood as firm as a rock. Here and
    there the beginnings of a fire were soon extinguished.

    "Then a frightful thing happened. The men had finished breakfast,
    some were sleeping quietly in spite of the thundering noise. The
    assault was expected to commence during the next night.

    "And then the disaster followed suddenly. At about five o'clock
    a tremendous explosion shook the fort to the foundations; the
    powder-magazine had caught fire. It is impossible to describe the
    appalling results of that explosion; the entire middle-part of the
    fort collapsed in a stupendous cloud of flames, smoke and dust;
    it was an awful destruction, an immense avalanche of masses of
    concrete, fragments of armour, which in their fall crushed to death
    nearly the whole of the garrison. From this fantastical, confused
    mass, overwhelming clouds of suffocating smoke escaped through some
    crevices and holes.

    "After this infernal rumble, deadly silence followed, interrupted
    only by the groans of the wounded. The German artillery ceased to
    fire, and from all sides their infantry came rushing on, their
    faces expressing the terror caused by such great calamities. They
    were no longer soldiers longing to destroy, but human beings
    hurrying to go to the assistance of other human beings.

    "German sappers and other military men cleared away the dead and
    the wounded. They also discovered General Leman, whose orderlies,
    who had a miraculous escape from death, were already busy in
    rescuing him from underneath the ruins.

    "They were all unrecognisable, their faces were black from smoke,
    their uniforms in rags, their hands covered with blood. The general
    was put on a stretcher, and carried outside the fort across the
    heaps of obstacles; there he was attended to by a surgeon. He had
    lost consciousness. As soon as he recovered it, he pressed the
    hands of two Belgian officers. 'It is all over; there is nothing
    left to defend. But we did our utmost courageously.'

    "A German officer came nearer, and, uncovering his head, said in
    a voice trembling with emotion: 'General, what you performed is
    admirable!' Evidently these words slightly comforted the defender
    of Liège, who before long was removed by motor-car to an ambulance
    in the town."

Such was the end of Fort Loncin, and by its fall the last obstacle was
removed by which the undisturbed progress of the German armies might
have been prevented. The brave defenders of Loncin did not surrender,
but stood their ground until they were buried under the ruins of their
own defences. According to information from another source, Lierce had
succumbed the night before.

Early next morning I walked through the streets of Liège, dull and
depressed, deploring the fact that such clumsy, heavy iron monsters had
been able to crush this stout defence and such men. As I reached the
Place du Marché, there arrived three hundred disarmed Belgian warriors,
escorted by a strong German force. They stopped in the square, and soon
hundreds of the people of Liège crowded around them. They were the
defenders of Fort Pontisse.

Men and women tried to break through the German cordon, but were
repulsed roughly. So they threw fruit, cigars, and cigarettes at them.
The lads looked gratefully at their compatriots, but for the rest
stared in front of them in dismal depression. Once and again a name was
called, as a relative or friend was recognised. Some shed tears.

Whether neutral or foreigner, no one could help being deeply moved.
Men and women, boys and girls, pressed once more through the German
fence, just to shake hands with someone they had recognised. No wailing
followed, but when hands were gripped, with a suppressed sob, they said:

"Bear up, lad! Keep courage; it will soon be different."

And the answer was:

"We did our utmost to the last, but it was impossible to go on."

I could not help myself, but also pressed through the Germans, as I
wanted to exchange a few words with the Belgians. This was possible
for a very few moments only, in which they told me that they had been
firing night and day in order to harass the Germans who crossed the
river, but they had to yield at the end, when the Germans put Belgian
civilians in front of themselves when attacking the fort.

I was roughly pushed back by the German soldiers twice over. I broke
through only to be repulsed again. They got into difficulties with the
huge crowd, who pushed through on all sides, bought up the stock of
surrounding shops, and threw chocolates and other sweets, cigars and
cigarettes, at their boys. Then a bugle sounded, and the Belgians once
more were arrayed in files. They calmly lighted their cigarettes, and
as the order "march" was given, they took off their caps, waved them
through the air, and, turning to the Liège crowd, exclaimed: "Vive
la Belgique." Then hundreds of caps, hats, and arms were waved in
response, the air resounding the cry: "Vive la Belgique. Au revoir! Au
revoir!"

As I felt myself one with the population, I uncovered my head and
enthusiastically joined in the cry: "Au revoir! Au revoir!"

       *       *       *       *       *

When I was half way between Liège and the Netherland frontier, I
noticed that the village of Vivignes was burning in various places.
It is a beautiful spot, quite concealed between the green trees on the
slope of the hills, west of the canal. And the finest and largest farms
were exactly those ablaze. The fire crackled fiercely, roofs came down
with a crash and a thud. Not a living being could be seen. From the
windows of the burning houses small white flags hung, and they too were
one by one destroyed by the fire. I counted forty-five farms that were
burning, destroyed by the raging flames.

In a café, lower down, near the canal I saw a number of German
soldiers, and was successful in having a chat with the inn-keeper,
at the farthest corner of the bar. I asked him, of course, what they
meant by burning the village, and he told me that the Germans had
made a number of unsuccessful attacks on Fort Pontisse, until at last
they reduced it to silence. They were now so near that they could
open the final assault. They were afraid, however, of some ambush,
or underground mine, and the Friday before they had collected the
population, whom they forced to march in front of them. When they had
got quite near they dared not enter it yet, and drove the priest and
twelve of the principal villagers before them. That is how Pontisse was
conquered.

Later on I heard the same story from several other inhabitants.

The people had been in deadly terror, and women and old men, fearing
that they would be killed, had fallen on their knees beseeching the
soldiers to spare them. At present many women and old men, and even
strong men, were laid up with violent feverish attacks of nerves.

Only because these wretched people had not promptly obeyed the order
of the military to march against the fort in front of the soldiers,
Vivignes had been punished, and that morning over forty of the best
houses had been set on fire.

I shuddered at the thought that in these days such barbarities were
possible. I asked the soldiers whether I was allowed to enter the
burning village, but the commanding sergeant refused his consent.

I also asked the inn-keeper whether he felt no fear in those
surroundings. But, shrugging his shoulders, he answered: "All we can do
is to wait quietly. I do all in my power to keep them in a good temper,
give them beer and cigars, and yesterday killed one of my two cows for
them. I may have lost everything at the end of the war, ... but even
so, let it be, if I can only save the life of my family and keep a roof
over my head. But my anxiety is great enough, for, you understand, I
have two daughters ... and ... and...."

We had got near the door of the room that stood ajar, and from there
came the sound of a couple of girls' voices: "Hail, Mary.... Hail,
Mary...."

The frightened maidens were saying their rosary.

The news, that all the forts had now been taken was quickly
communicated to the surrounding military posts, and in consequence the
soldiers were in a wanton mood. Most of the houses which I passed had
their doors and windows smashed and broken, but the most provoking was
that soldiers had compelled the people in the cafés along the canal to
open their pianos and make their musical automatons play. To the tunes
of these instruments they danced, yelling and shouting. No greater
contrast was imaginable than that between such scenes and the burning
village with the frightened inhabitants around it.

Near Haccourt, by the bank of the Meuse, I noticed a terrible glare of
fire and dense smoke. It was an alarming sight, and made me fear the
direst things. I considered for a moment whether I should go there or
not, fearing that I had already taxed my nerves too much. Yet, I made
up my mind to go, and by a side-way got to the Meuse, near Visé. German
engineers were busy here laying telephone wires, and an officer stopped
me, threatening me with his revolver. It was obvious that they were no
longer accustomed to see civilians on that road. After having examined
my passport and seeing that I was a Netherland journalist, he became
very friendly, and politely urged me not to go farther.

"Why not, sir?" I asked.

"Well, there is a huge fire yonder; everything is burning!"

"How did that come about?"

"Well, it seems that the civilians cannot understand that only soldiers
may fight soldiers, and for that reason the whole place has been set on
fire."

"Devant-le-Pont?"

"No, Visé."

"Visé? Do you mean to say, sir, that the whole of Visé has been set on
fire?"

"Certainly!"

"But ... but ...! May I go there?"

"I must advise you not to, for it is extremely dangerous, but if you
like...."

"Very well, sir, then I shall go there!"




CHAPTER IV

VISÉ DESTROYED: A PREMEDITATED CRIME


ONE of the first things I have to deal with is also one of the most
fearful I ever saw, and I only hope that I may never again witness the
like of it.

I have mentioned already the reign of terror with which the Germans
ruled the wretched townlet ever since they entered it. Something
fateful might happen any moment, and actually occurred during the night
of August 15th and 16th.

On that evening the soldiers, rough fellows from East Prussia, had been
revelling in the cafés, shouting filthy ditties in the streets, and
most of them in a very advanced state of intoxication. At ten o'clock
suddenly a shot was heard. The fellows took their rifles, which they
had placed against the walls, or on the tables of the cafés, and ran
into the street shouting in a mad rage: "They have been shooting!"
The most tipsy began to shoot at doors and windows simultaneously in
various parts of the town, which made the people in the houses scream,
and this excited the mad drunken soldiers all the more. They forced
their way into several houses, knocking down the frightened inhabitants
when these tried to stop them.

It is stated that some of the wretched people were even pinioned and
beaten. Their assailants then stumbled up the stairs and began to shoot
wildly from the upper stories into the dark streets, where their own
raving comrades were rushing about like madmen. Some civilians who in
great fear had come to their front door to see what was happening were
shot down.

After this game had been going on for some time, the order was given:
"Everybody must come outside." Doors and windows were forced open and
broken, and men, women, and children driven out of the houses. They
were at once ruthlessly separated. Men who assisted their aged mothers,
or carried their little babies, were taken away from their families,
and driven away, leaving their wailing and weeping wives and children
behind, while the flames from burning houses threw a lurid light on the
sad scenes of that terrible evening.

The poor wretches, who expected to be killed at any moment, were driven
into squares or the meadows, where they were exposed to the chilly
night air, so that several babies perished. Only the next morning were
the women and children allowed to leave--that is to say, they were told
to take the shortest way to Maastricht.

A number of the men were taken to Germany, the others were kept as
prisoners in the neighbourhood, and by and by had to suffer the shame
of being compelled to work for the enemy. Amongst them were men who
had never done any manual work, such as an aged notary public.

Even a doctor of the Red Cross established at St. Hadelin College had
been removed in his white overall and wearing his Red Cross armlet.
This was Dr. Labye, who already had rendered signal services to the
wounded Germans. In consequence of his detention twenty of them were
left in the hospital without medical attendance....

During the night only a few houses were burnt down; the general
destruction followed the next morning, Sunday, August 16th, and just as
I reached the little town the flames were raging all over the place in
a fierce blaze.

I shall never forget that sight. The Meuse separated me from the
raging blaze on the opposite bank. The flames roared violently, roofs
and rafters and walls crashed down, and the wood of living trees was
burning and screeching loudly. I saw but a sea of fire, one glaring
glow, and the air was scorchingly hot. A light breeze blew through
the place, and made clouds of smoke to whirl through the streets like
avalanches of snow. The view down the longer streets leading straight
from the hill-tops to the Meuse was very fantastic.

The wind seemed to play with the smoke, rolling dense volumes down the
slopes which dispersed only when they reached the bank along the river.
Whilst the flames soared high up from the roofs, the walls of the
houses stood still erect, and everywhere in the windows one saw those
miserable little white flags, symbols of submission, mute prayers that
submission should be rewarded by sparing the life and possession of the
inhabitants....

I stood near the spot where the ferry-boat used to take people across;
but to cross was now out of the question, for any one alighting on
the opposite side would be landed in the scorching glare. Therefore,
I returned to Lixhe, where I might try to cross the river by the
pontoon-bridge, and get to Visé along the other bank of the Meuse.

On the way I was stopped by two soldiers, one of whom examined my
papers, and, finding that I was a journalist, revealed himself as a
colleague, in ordinary times editor of the _Kölnische Zeitung_. He
shook both my hands quite excitedly, glad to meet a colleague, and,
better still, one from the "friendly" Netherlands.

I had to listen to a prolonged hymn of praise of the Netherlanders,
who were such sensible people, and the best friends of the Germans;
protestations which did not interest me in the least at that moment. On
the contrary, it struck me as deplorable that this man did not say a
single word of his own accord about the horrible thing happening close
by: the destruction of an entire community! He did not seem to attach
any importance to it....

As soon as the "friendly" Netherlander thought that he had swallowed
sufficient praise, I began to ask questions about the meaning of that
wanton devastation, and why it was inflicted on the population! Before
answering, he looked round in a casual manner, as if thinking: "Oh,
it's that bit of fire you refer to!" And then exploded in a string of
imprecations against the population.

It is a lamentable sign that this German, probably well educated,
had not taken the slightest trouble to find out the reason for this
wholesale wrecking of a town, that the whole affair impressed him
so little. "Somebody" had said that those cursed civilians had been
shooting, that explained it to his satisfaction, and gave him ample
cause for coarse abuse of the wretched people.

How many soldiers had fallen in consequence of this attack by
francs-tireurs he knew not; which troops had witnessed the occurrence
he could not say. All he did know was that these troops had left in the
morning, leaving a small force behind to impose the punishment.

The bridge-command at the pontoon-bridge near Lixhe allowed me to
cross, after requesting me very pressingly to make _very clear_ what
swine these Belgians were, who fired so treacherously at unsuspecting
soldiers, put out the eyes of the wounded, cut off their hands and
genitals. When I asked where all these things had happened, the answer
was: "Everywhere!" Of course, I promised them to do everything they
wanted.

Very large divisions marched from Visé to the pontoon bridge in the
direction of Tongres. After the Liège forts had been taken the bridge
might be passed in perfect safety. All day long troops came along that
road without interruption. I could quite see that the soldiers who were
at Visé the previous day, and brought about the conflagration, were
gone, for they had left their traces behind. All along the road lay
parts of bicycles, shoes, instruments, toys, and so on, everything new
and evidently looted from the shops. Very valuable things were among
them, everything crushed and smashed by the cavalry horses, the clumsy
munition and forage waggons, or the heavy wheels of the guns.

A little farther on a few houses were left undamaged, because they
stood outside the town proper. A woman who had remained in her house
stood outside with cigar-boxes under her arm. She offered cigars from
an open box to the soldiers of the passing divisions. To me she seemed
to be out of her mind, as she stood there trembling, her face distorted
from hypernervousness. Her cringing kindness was of no avail, for I
noticed a couple of days afterwards that her house too had been totally
destroyed.

On the first houses of the town large bills had been stuck, intimating
that they were a Netherlander's property, but obviously that had not
impressed the tipsy soldiers to any extent, for they had been wrecked
all the same for the greater part.

The whole town was like a sea of fire. The Germans, who are nothing
if not thorough, even in the matter of arson, had worked out their
scheme in great detail. In most houses they had poured some benzine or
paraffin on the floor, put a lighted match to it, and thrown a small
black disc, the size of a farthing, on the burning spot, and then
immediately the flames flared up with incredible fury. I do not know
the constituents of this particular product of "Kultur."

Nor did I see any inhabitants in the burning town. It was practically
impossible to stay in the streets; burning walls and roofs and gutters
crashed down with a great noise, so that the streets were as much on
fire as the houses themselves. Only at the crossings were any soldiers
to be seen, who, in various stages of intoxication, constantly aimed at
the burning houses, and shot everything that tried to escape from the
burning stables and barns: pigs, horses, cows, dogs, and so on.

Suddenly I saw a boy about twelve years old in one of the burning
streets. He waved his arms, rushed madly to and fro, calling for his
father and mother, and his little brother and sisters. He was in danger
of perishing in the fire, or being killed by the murderous bullet
from a rifle. I ran after him, laid hold of him, and in spite of his
resistance pulled him back. Fortunately I met a couple of kind, sober
soldiers to whom I told the story, and who promised to send the boy
away from the burning town.

Shortly afterwards I met a Netherland Red Cross motor-car. The male
nurses, who had met me already on former occasions during the war,
recognised me, rushed up to me, and forced me to come with them to the
car. Here they tried to explain with a torrential flow of words that I
exposed myself to the greatest danger by coming here, as nearly all the
soldiers were drunk, shot at every civilian, and so on.

They insisted upon my staying near the car, and be a little safer under
the protection of the Red Cross. They told me how they had to drag an
old woman out of her house, who refused to come with them, and in her
despair shouted nothing but: "Let me die!--let me die!"

I could not say or do anything, for I felt as if stunned, and let them
lead me where they liked; so they gave me a glass of claret, and that
revived me.

A few moments after they went away I went also, and entered the burning
town once more. A Netherland family lived in Villa Rustica, and I had
promised to make inquiries about them.

As I stood there looking at the ruins of what was once so fine a house,
a small group of refugees approached, carrying as usual their miserable
parcels in which they had hurriedly collected the things that had the
least value. As they saw me they shuddered and shivered and crept
closer together. Most of them wept and sobbed, and their faces were
twisting nervously.

I went up to them and explained that there was no need at all to be
afraid of me. They were able to give me news of the inhabitants of
Villa Rustica. The owner had died a few days since, from a paralytic
stroke, brought on by the emotions caused by the German horrors,
whereas madame, who had heroically intervened on behalf of some
victims, was probably at St. Hadelin College.

My poor informants had not yet made up their mind where to go, fearing
that they might not be permitted to enter The Netherlands as they
were without means of subsistence. I assured them, however, that our
conception of neighbourly love and charity was different, and that they
would be hospitably received.

I showed them the way to Eysden, and they had scarcely started when
a cavalry patrol came racing on, the men tipsy and their seat rather
unstable. Seeing the refugees, they aimed their rifles at them and
roared "Hands up!" The poor creatures not only put up their hands, but
fell on their knees, and muttered incoherent words. The women folded
their hands, and stretched them out to the cavalry, as if praying for
mercy. The soldiers looked at the scene for a moment, burst out in a
harsh laughter, spurred on their horses, and raced on without a word.
Two of them stopped near me. I gave them, however, no time for threats,
but quickly showed them the old pass to Visé. As soon as they saw the
German writing they said: "All right!" and went off.

I came now to the eastern boundary of the town, whence the streets
slope gently towards the bank of the Meuse. Here I had an atrociously
fantastic view of the burning mass of houses. I fell in with a crowd of
dead-drunk soldiers, who first handed my papers on from the one to the
other, but as soon as they understood that I was a Netherlander they
showed no hostility.

They sang and shouted and waved their arms. Most of them carried
bottles full of liquor, which they put to their mouths frequently,
smashed them on the ground, or handed them to their comrades, when
unable to drink any more themselves. Each of a troop of cavalry had a
bottle of pickles, and enjoyed them immensely.

Other soldiers kept on running into the burning houses, carrying out
vases, pictures, plate, or small pieces of furniture. They smashed
everything on the cobbles and then returned to wreck more things that
would have been destroyed by the fire all the same. It was a revelry of
drunken vandalism. They seemed mad, and even risked being burned alive
at this work of destruction. Most of the officers were also tipsy; not
one of them was saluted by the soldiers.

The beastly scenes which I witnessed in the glaring, scorching heat
benumbed me, and I looked on vacantly for a long time. At last I went
back and called at St. Hadelin College, the Head of which I had visited
already once or twice. The building was still undamaged.

As soon as the Reverend Head, Dr. Frits Goffin, saw me he burst out
sobbing, and, taking me by the hand, speechless, he pressed it a long
time. I myself also was quite dumb. At length he muttered:

"Could you ever have thought ... that ... that ... such ... a cruel ...
fate would overwhelm us? What crime did these poor people commit? Have
we not given all we had? Have we not strictly obeyed their commands?
Have we not done more than they asked for? Have we not charitably
nursed their wounded in this House? Oh! they profess deep gratitude to
me. But ... why then? There is nothing left in the House for the aged
refugees whom we admitted, for the soldiers we nurse; our doctor has
been made a prisoner and taken away, and we are without medical help.
This is nothing for the Sisters and myself, but all these unfortunate
creatures ... they must have food...."

The excellent man went on weeping, and I was not able to console him
and did not know what to say. He took my arm, and led me to the large
common hall, where twenty wounded Germans lay, who had been hit in the
fight for the forts. He went to one bed after the other, and, with
tears in his eyes, asked each man how he felt, and inquired, "Are you
... properly ... cared for ... here? Are you?" The sick men turned
round, their eyes beamed, and they stammered words full of gratitude.
Others said nothing, but took the Head's hand and pressed it long and
warmly.

The wounded civilians had been put up in the small schoolrooms. Some
of them must soon die. Some had burns, but most of them were hit
the previous night during the mad outbreak, the mad shooting of the
drunken and riotous Germans. In another room a number of old women were
crowded together, who had to fly but could not walk all the way to the
Netherland frontier.

Near each staircase stood a blackboard on which the Germans had written
that to go upstairs was prohibited under penalty of death. The Head
explained that the Germans alleged that light signals had been given
from the top storey.

Two South-American boys, about twelve years old, had stayed on and
heroically assisted the Head at his charitable work. Dr. Goffin was
not allowed to take anybody with him except these two children in his
search for the wounded, and to bury the dead. It is scarcely credible
how courageously these boys of such tender age behaved. Later the
Chilean ambassador made inquiries about them and asked for their
portraits.

I also met there a compatriot, who had got permission to go to The
Netherlands, but declined to leave. She was Mrs. de Villers, _née_
Borret. On August 27th I wrote about her to _De Tijd_:--

    "Four days ago her husband was buried. As he was addressing the
    League of Old-Retraitants at Cherath he was seized by a paralytic
    stroke, which proved fatal. She has no longer a home, beautiful
    Villa Rustica being completely burnt out, and now in ruins. But she
    refuses to return to The Netherlands, as she is still able to be of
    service to the people here.

    "In Cherath she saved the life of a good many. As it was alleged
    that there had been shooting, the priest, the chaplain, a retired
    priest, eighty years old, the mayor, and several leading citizens
    were condemned to be shot. None, not even the priest, was able to
    defend himself, as they knew not a word of German, and could not
    make themselves understood. Mrs. de Villers, who speaks German
    fluently, explained that the spot where the shooting was alleged to
    have taken place was not part of Cherath at all.

    "So this brave lady succeeded in getting the sentence of death
    withdrawn. But the Germans wanted to torture their wretched
    prisoners on any or no plea. They were placed near the church wall,
    kept standing there all night, were told that they would be shot by
    and by, and threatened by the soldiers with their bayonets.

    "In the morning sixty soldiers escorted them out of the village to
    the hamlet Wandre, where the populace was told they would be shot.
    Should one shot be fired by one of the inhabitants--thus Mrs. de
    Villers was told--the prisoners would be shot out of hand; if not,
    they would be released at Wandre. Mrs. de Villers had, of course,
    secretly warned the inhabitants in time.

    "She hopes to be able to render further services to the populace,
    thanks to her knowledge of German, and stays on, occupying her
    time with charitable work. A respectful salute is due to this
    courageous compatriot."

On the same day I wrote as follows about Dr. Goffin:--

    "His face, unshaven since ever so long, is quite emaciated, and
    presents all the symptoms of nervous exhaustion. Once more twenty
    German soldiers are being nursed in his college, where only once
    a German doctor came to see them. He (Dr. Goffin) and a couple of
    Sisters have to manage everything by themselves, and the Germans do
    not even dream of providing food for their own wounded, although
    the college is so inadequately provisioned that the Head and the
    Sisters have to deny themselves the necessary nourishment that they
    may feed the wounded.

    "And how are they thanked for it?

    "The Reverend Head has been notified already ten times that he
    would be shot, and he is frequently being arrested for alleged
    shooting from the building. This shooting is actually done by
    German soldiers alone, who are loafing and looting, as I myself
    noticed a short time ago. The Head took me to a room where an old
    man of ninety, who had just received the extreme unction, lay
    dying. By his side sat a broken-hearted little old woman, his wife.
    This old man had been taken prisoner with other men of Visé, and
    forced to work at a new bridge. The poor fellow broke down under
    the strain; it cost him his life."

I left burning Visé deeply impressed by the savage scenes I had
witnessed: men turned into beasts by drink, passion, and anger, doing
all manner of wrong to the wretched inhabitants; but the impression
became deeper by the great contrast: the perfect, charitable devotion
of a virtuous priest, a courageous lady, and ever kind and commiserate
Sisters. Never have I experienced so many emotions in one day as at
Visé.

After taking warm leave of the Head of St. Hadelin College, I continued
my walk to the Netherland frontier.

I was scarcely outside the townlet when I met another little group of
refugees, probably all members of one family. The mother was being
supported by her daughters, all wept, and nervous exhaustion made them
totter as they walked. Every moment the mother looked back pitifully
at the conflagration which devoured all around, including her slender
property, for which she had worked so many years.

From the other side came two soldiers, one of whom she recognised, as
he had been billeted on her. Constantly weeping, her face distorted,
she sent another glance towards that fiery blaze, looked at the soldier
as if reprovingly, hesitated a moment, but then pressed the enemy's
hand, sobbing: "Adieu!--adieu!"

Sometimes I felt as if I were dreaming and wanted to call myself back
from this nightmare to another, better, and real world. And I thought
constantly of the man who, by one word, had given the order for these
murders, this arson; the man who severed husbands and fathers, wives
and mothers, and children, who caused so many innocent people to be
shot, who destroyed the results of many, many years of strict economy
and strenuous industry.

The first acquaintance whom I met on Netherland territory was a
Netherland lady married to a Walloon, who kept a large café at Visé.
Before the destruction she had asked me, full of anxiety, whether the
Germans would indeed carry out their threat and wreck everything. I
had comforted her, and answered that I did not think them capable of
doing such a thing. Weeping, she came to me, and reminded me of my
words. The whole business, in which these young people had invested
their slender capital, had been wrecked.




CHAPTER V

FRANCS-TIREURS?


I THINK that there is no better occasion to deal with the question
whether there was a franc-tireur-guerilla in Belgium than after the
chapter on the destruction of Visé.

My opinion on the matter is still the same as when I first wrote
about it to _De Tijd_, and in _Vrij België_; and from my own personal
knowledge and after mixing with the people I consider the allegation
that the Belgians acted as francs-tireurs an absolute lie.

Some uphold the accusation on the ground of expressions in Belgian
newspapers, collected in a German pamphlet. In my opinion these
quotations have not the slightest value. Everyone will understand
this who thinks of the excitement of journalists, whose country was
suddenly and quite unexpectedly involved in a terrible war, and who
felt now that as journalists they had to perform a great, patriotic
duty. In their nervous, over-excited condition they sat at their desk
and listened to the gossip of refugees about civilians taking part
in the struggle. In their imagination they saw hordes of barbarians
overrun their native soil, saw man and man, woman and woman, shoulder
to shoulder, resisting the invader without regard for their own life.
The thoughts of such journalists, whose very own country had been at
war now for a few days, were not on severe logical lines; they found
a certain beauty in that picture, and I can quite understand how some
came to believe in it as a reality, and gloried in it.

That is not evidence however, for how did they get the information?
From my own experience I make bold to say with the greatest confidence
that these reports came from German sources only, whereas there was not
any ground for them.

I have witnessed all the people during the very earliest days of the
war. I came to Liège, passing between the forts, as described already.
I was in Lixhe when the pontoon bridge was wrecked repeatedly by Fort
Pontisse; I stayed at Visé three times before the destruction began,
and I was there when the charming townlet was wrecked by fire; and in
Louvain I have been dragged from my bed by six soldiers and arrested,
when the whole town was still ablaze.

Very well, I have:

1. Never seen anything of a franc-tireur-guerilla.

2. Never seen anyone who was arrested as a franc-tireur.

3. Never heard any German soldier, of whatever rank, assert that
he himself had witnessed any action by a franc-tireur, although I
questioned such soldiers times without number. They always mentioned
others, who had left days ago, and were said to have gone through the
miserable experience!

4. Never heard the _name_ of any franc-tireur in answer to my questions.

But they were _always_ German officers and no others who talked about
francs-tireurs, and at Visé, Liège, Dinant, Bilsen, and particularly
at Louvain, they constantly pressed me and tried to make me promise
that I should write to _De Tijd_ about francs-tireurs and justify the
devastations. These stories emanated from the officers and permeated
the rank and file; and the men grew fearfully angry with the Belgians,
whom they cursed and abused. It also made the soldiers terribly afraid
of francs-tireurs, and I noticed many a time that some loud sound from
a falling wall, for example, made a whole troop of soldiers jump up,
lay hold of their rifles, and hide themselves in an absolute "blue
funk." The mere noise made them curse and rage and talk of nothing but
burning houses.

In the end these stories of the soldiers convinced even the inhabitants
that there had been francs-tireurs, but never in the place where they
lived, always somewhere else. They could not believe that the Germans
could be so cruel and wreck so much property if nothing at all had
happened; and when at length the time came that they themselves were
obliged to fly, many of them believed that their compatriots who
_elsewhere_ acted as francs-tireurs were to blame for all the dire
calamities. But if they had had my opportunity to go "elsewhere"
and gather information there, they would have been convinced of the
untruth, and probably would have heard the name of their own village
as the scene of the occurrence. That was how rumours and reports got
about.

Many soldiers, probably most of them, were undoubtedly of good faith,
and _believed_ what they related; but the damnable notion had been put
into their heads by their superiors. That is why I do not consider it
impossible that _some_ places were wrecked on account of _alleged_ acts
by francs-tireurs.

I have explained already in the chapter "Round about Liège" that I
myself was duped occasionally, for example, by the story of the three
hundred civilians who had been shot. To my mind these violent acts
at the beginning of the war were part and parcel of the system of
frightfulness, by which the Germans tried to scare the population and
indirectly the hostile armies, at the same time rousing their own
soldiers to anger and fury.

That mad fury was also intensified considerably by the accusations
about gruesome mutilations committed on German soldiers by Belgians,
who were said to have cut off the noses, ears, genitals, and so on of
their enemies. These rumours were so persistent that in the end it was
generally believed in neutral countries that these things had happened
frequently.

No little astonishment was therefore created by an interview which I
published with Dr. van der Goot of The Hague, who did so much excellent
work in the Red Cross Hospital at Maastricht. He also had come to
believe all these stories, and as everybody always mentioned a large
hospital in Aix-la-Chapelle, which was said to be full of similarly
mutilated soldiers, Dr. van der Goot went to that town to see for
himself. The chief medical officer of that hospital in a conversation
stated that not one single case of that sort had been treated in his
institution nor in any of the other local hospitals where he was a
visiting physician. At a meeting of the medical circle just lately
held he had not heard one word, nor had any one colleague, about the
treatment of similar cases.

In Louvain I was myself arrested, because a more than half-drunk
soldier had accused me of spying and arson! There too I had to listen
to all sorts of abuse because I was a franc-tireur. And in spite of
all this they tried to extract a promise from me to write against the
francs-tireurs!

The history of the destruction of Visé affords also interesting support
to my opinion, as previously expressed, that the violent actions of the
Germans took place according to a fully thought-out design.

During the early days of the war the papers published a report, of
German origin, that Visé had been destroyed because francs-tireurs had
appeared. I was therefore not a little amazed when, arriving there on
August 8th, I found the townlet entirely undamaged, and even the German
military admitted that they had not heard a word about francs-tireurs.

But the inhabitants were treated even then in a most vexatious manner,
and on August 14th (the destruction came about on the 16th) I wrote to
_De Tijd_ (No. 20457):--

    "Visé is under a real reign of terror. The day before yesterday the
    town-crier walked the streets with his bell, and announced that
    within twenty-four hours everyone had to deliver his bicycle at
    the bridge. Anyone in whose house a bicycle should be found would
    be shot and his house set on fire. Yesterday morning the Germans
    announced once more that all arms, including those that were old or
    damaged or taken to pieces, should be handed in at the town-hall
    within an hour. If any arms should be found anywhere after that,
    they would shoot the inhabitants and burn down the town. Eatables
    and drinkables were requisitioned continuously under threats of
    firing the town, and the inhabitants are afraid of nothing so much
    as of the possibility that something may be required some day or
    other that cannot be produced."

Even before that, on August 11th I sent a communication, by post or
cable (_De Tijd_, No. 20353), in which the following is found:--

    "In and round about Visé people sleep in their cellars, as they are
    threatened frequently that the town will be set on fire."

Anyone who, like myself, has been able to see in what frame of mind
the people were during the first days of the German occupation, cannot
believe it possible that they would even think of taking up arms. They
lived in an unending terror, tried to forestall the invader's demands,
and, if anything was requisitioned, they searched each other's houses
to see whether anything was kept back and all the demanded bottles of
gin or claret were forthcoming. There was not one who did not keep his
door open as widely as possible to prove his complete submissiveness,
and to let the Germans enter his house at any time to check what was
to be found there. Every moment I saw men or women run into the street
offering cigars to the soldiers from open boxes, smiling nervously
and desperately, trying to behave as unconcernedly as possible.
During those early days payment for refreshments was accepted hardly
anywhere, and people often refused to accept money from me, because
they mistook me for a German.

Men and young women in the prime of life sat whole days in a chair,
or lay abed, because in the most literal sense of the word they were
unable to stand on their feet for fear and terror, caused by the
incessant menaces.

And during these first days of the war I had not met a single person
who was able to settle down quietly in the existing circumstances, not
a single person in whom anger and fury subdued fear and terror.

Is it thinkable that persons in that frame of mind would take up arms
and invite the enemy's revenge upon themselves and those near and dear
to them, a revenge of which they were so mortally afraid?

And supposing for a moment that the allegations made by the Germans
were true, that there had been shooting at Visé for example, then one
might perhaps consider the revenge justifiable, but should also expect
that they would punish with a heavy heart, conscious that they were
inflicting a necessary evil.

Of a heavy heart, however, there was not a trace. In the previous
chapter I described how beastly they behaved during the destruction
of Visé; how the soldiers drank immoderate quantities of alcohol, and
then jeered at the wretched refugees; how they indulged in unmitigated
vandalism, and wrecked by hand things of which they knew that by and by
would be destroyed by fire.

Children and old people perished in consequence of the cruel
heartlessness of the Germans, and in St. Hadelin College they robbed
their own wounded of medical help and surgical appliances.

This happened not only at Visé, but also at other places which I
visited, more especially at Louvain. And those who read the following
chapters carefully will find sufficient support for my opinion, that
_Belgium is innocent of the base charges and allegations uttered
by Germany, which country soiled its conscience still worse, first
by plunging the little kingdom into the direst misery, and then by
accusing it falsely of crimes which it never committed_.




CHAPTER VI

WITH THE FLEMINGS


BETWEEN my tours through the Liège district I made a trip in the
direction of Tongres, because I wanted to know what had become of all
those Germans who had crossed the Meuse near Lixhe. It was remarkable
to notice how friendly the Flemings of that district behaved with
regard to the Germans. Although they criticised the violation of the
country's neutrality sharply, and every family was proud of the sons
who had taken up arms in defence of their Fatherland, yet they judged
quite kindly the German soldiers who passed through their district. I
often heard expressions full of pity toward those men, who could not
help themselves, but were compelled to do whatever their superiors
commanded them.

The Germans did themselves great injury undoubtedly by their vulgar and
barbarous demeanour, for that lost them every claim on the sympathy of
the people.

They behaved tolerably well during the first few days after the
occupation of Tongres; but that did not last long, and soon they began
here also to commit atrocious acts of terrorism. One evening at about
the middle of August several civilians were killed, a dozen houses
along the road to Maastricht were fired, and in the town the windows of
several shops smashed, which was followed by general looting. That lost
them whatever sympathy they might have met with in the district.

On August 12th I came for the first time to Tongres. They had been
there only a few days, and only near the town-hall did I see a goodly
number of the garrison. Many wounded were brought there, and carried
in through the door under the outside stairway. They came from Haelen,
where a battle was being fought that afternoon and for which they
had left in the morning. For the attack on the entrenched Belgians
they had used cavalry exclusively, who were simply mowed down by the
murderous fire from the hidden mitrailleuses and the infantry fire from
the trenches. The Germans suffered a great reverse, and were deeply
embittered.

Just outside Tongres I met a fleet of Red Cross cars loaded with
wounded. Cavalry escorted them. I was stopped and ordered to go back,
as they expected the Belgians to attack Tongres.

I thought the result of the battle of Haelen rather important, and
should have liked to have wired it immediately to my paper. Until now
I had always gone on foot, that being the only conveyance which the
Germans could not seize. But this time I preferred a bicycle, as the
only way to get to The Netherlands on that same day. So I tried at a
couple of bicycle-shops to get a second-hand one for love and money. At
the first shop I asked:--

"I suppose, madame, that you have an old 'bike' to sell?"

She looked me up and down suspiciously, and then said:

"No, I've none to sell."

I did not fare better at the next. There the answer was:

"I refuse to sell 'bikes' to Germans."

"But, madame, I am not German; I am a Netherlander. I should...."

"I can hear quite well that you are German, and if you were a
Netherlander you would not venture on a bike at this moment. If you
come here to seize my bikes, I'll deliver them, for I cannot do
anything against that, but I refuse to sell them of my own free-will."

The dear lady rapped it out in such a decided tone of voice that I
desisted. I told my trouble to the proprietor of a café where I took a
glass of beer; he, examining my papers, placed confidence in me, and
got me a rickety thing, for which I paid twenty-two francs.

After all, this was better than walking, so I decided to make a small
detour, go once more to Liège, and see how the forts were. I lost my
way in a maze of by-roads, and got at last back to the main road near
Jupille, where I met a patrol of Uhlans, who came in my direction at a
trot.

Already from a distance with much fuss they signalled to me to stop,
and of course I obeyed at once. Two men dismounted, came to me in
a perfect rage, and, without asking who I was or what I was doing,
cut my tyres to pieces in several places; they abused me with wild
gesticulations and threats, jumped on their horses, and rode off. I
dragged my wretched vehicle with its stabbed tyres a little distance,
but then met a second patrol, who showed still greater indignation, and
destroyed it altogether.

For the rest of the journey I used my only remaining means of
transport, my legs, and after a walk of some hours got to the frontier
of The Netherlands near Oud-Vroenhoven. A Netherland custom-house
officer asked for my papers, and I showed him my huge passport. The man
looked at the sheet critically, and made out that I could not possibly
be a Netherlander, as I was the holder of a "foreign" passport.

My "foreign" passport was, of course, in French, of which language the
man evidently knew not a word. Although I explained that this passport
was the best one could get in The Netherlands, that I had paid six
guilders and seventy-five cents for it, that I was a war-correspondent
of _De Tijd_, it was all useless. I had to go with him to the
guard-house, and the man kept the queer passport--the damning piece of
evidence--firmly in his hand. All the inquisitive loafers, of which
the frontier was full during those days, followed me, and so we went
in procession to the guard-house, at some distance from the frontier.
I heard all sorts of discussions behind me, and constantly caught
words like: German, boche, deserter, franc-tireur, spy, and other
complimentary niceties.

As soon as I had entered the guard-house a soldier, rifle in hand,
mounted guard. The custom-house officer handed my French passport to a
lieutenant, who scrutinised it closely. Then followed the examination:

"You are a journalist?"

"Yes, sir."

"On which paper?"

"_De Tijd_, sir; here is my press-card."

"Where is _De Tijd_ printed?"

"In Amsterdam...."

"In which street?"

"Well ...! The Nieuwe Zijds Voorburgwal."

"All right; you may go!"

Having pushed my way through the loafers, who stood waiting before the
house, I was able to continue my journey to Maastricht.

A few days later I had to go to Canne, a Belgian hamlet near the
frontier, south of Maastricht. In the evening of August 18th an
atrociously barbarous crime had been committed there, a cool-blooded
murder. At Canne live some good, kind Flemings, who would not hurt a
fly. The kind-hearted burgomaster had, moreover, tried for days to
comfort his fellow-citizens, and was for ever saying:

"Leave everything to me; I'll invite them to have a glass of wine with
me, and you will see then that they are kind people."

This he had done. Already for many days he had treated several officers
to his best claret.

Tuesday night, August 18th, at about 11 o'clock, a train of luggage
carts passed through Canne, and in the village the Browning of one of
the soldiers in the last van went off suddenly. This was the signal
for all Germans to start shooting indiscriminately, anywhere, at
anything, happily without hitting anybody. A few tipsy soldiers went
to the burgomaster's house, and no sooner had his wife opened the door
for the barbarians, when a shot was fired, the bullet passing through
the unfortunate lady's head into the wall opposite the door. I was
there early the next morning and saw the hole. It is evident that the
soldiers ill-treated the dead lady with their rifles in a horrible
manner, for a large part of the wall was spattered over with blood.

After having murdered the burgomaster's wife, the villains attacked a
guest, Mr. Derricks, a lawyer, and member of the Provincial States,
whom they killed with a bayonet. His wife broke a leg when she tried to
fly to the cellar.

Mr. Derricks lived at Roelanche, but with his wife and seven children
had fled for security to Canne, where he was hospitably received in Mr.
Poswick's, the burgomaster's, house.

When I got to the house everything was in a frightful state. A pair of
curtains showed traces of fire; cupboards had been emptied, and nearly
all the china and glass broken; statuary lay broken on the floor;
windows were smashed; bits of bricks and plaster from the ceilings,
through which many shots had been fired, completed the scene of
destruction. On the doorstep I picked up a cartridge-case, which I have
always kept, because it is highly probable that it had contained the
bullet which killed Mrs. Poswick.

This terrible tragedy took place at scarcely six yards from the
Netherland frontier, for the burgomaster's house stands by a road
half Belgian and half Netherland. The Netherland soldiers who were
doing frontier-duty on the latter part had to fly from the mad shooting
of the Germans. They hid behind a wall that was quickly full of
bullet-holes. The German soldiers spent a considerable time guzzling
the burgomaster's wine, which they looted, and afterwards went off in
the direction of Tongres.

It was stated later on that the German authorities punished the
culprits and had them executed at Aix-la-Chapelle; _De Tijd_ of August
31st, 1914, also reported it. But the action of these soldiers was
not worse than that of generals who had entire cities destroyed and
civilians killed by the hundred, but were always screened by the German
Government.

       *       *       *       *       *

On Thursday, August 20th, I decided to go once more in the direction of
Tongres. As the Germans had picketed the main road along the Netherland
frontier, I made a detour and dragged my bicycle across the mountain
near Petit Laney, a very trying job in the stifling heat. From the
mountain top I had a beautiful vista, which enabled me to see that near
Riemst a large German force was encamped at which I desired to have
a look. So I walked down the hill to Canne, where some crofters were
trying to get their cattle into The Netherlands. These poor creatures,
who usually own two or three head of cattle, had been compelled already
to give up half of their stock. From Canne I cut through corn and
beetroot fields to the road to Riemst. The first German sentinels were
tolerably friendly.

"Ah, so you are a Netherlander, aren't you? Then we are friends. The
Netherlands remains neutral, does she not? What news have you from
there; are you already at war with Britain?"

These and similar questions were asked after a superficial examination
of my papers, and, having answered them, I was allowed to go on. But at
a certain moment an officer appeared, who summoned me to dismount, and
asked for my papers. After a short examination he ordered a soldier to
take me to the commanding officer at Riemst.

The attitude of all the soldiers changed immediately; they looked at
me with angry eyes, and from time to time I heard hostile remarks.
Whenever I did not walk quickly enough or turned a little to the
right or the left, my escort pulled me roughly by the arm. All the
same I took the case as coolly as possible, fully convinced that the
commanding officer would release me after a superficial examination.

At Riemst, the soldier took, or rather pummelled me into a large
farm-house, and soon I faced the bigwigs, who had made themselves
as comfortable as possible in a large room. Several pictures and
engravings lay on the ground in pieces, whilst numerous full and empty
wine-bottles indicated that they had abundantly worshipped at the
shrine of Bacchus, and intended to go on with the cult. The higher
officers and the subalterns seemed to be frantically busy; at least
they had violent discussions with many gesticulations over a map. The
soldier reported that he had brought me here by order of Lieutenant
Such--I did not catch the name--and then it began:

"Who are you?"

"I am...."

"What do you want here--what are you here for?"

"I am a Netherland jour...."

"What! A Netherlander? I suppose you come to see how many troops are
here, don't you? And then...."

"Please be good enough to have a look at my papers, and then...."

"Papers? Papers? Yes, of course you all have papers; all those villains
who shot at our men at Visé come back from The Netherlands with papers,
in order to start afresh. Later on I'll have a look at that stuff.
Here, lock him up for the present."

He pointed to a couple of soldiers, and they laid hold of me. They
took me to a small room, where I was astonished to find two soldiers
with revolvers guarding a priest and a peasant. As soon as the door
was closed behind me I wished to chat with my fellow-prisoners, for
even in prison I was not oblivious of my journalistic duties. But they
seemed not at all anxious to have anything to do with me, and I soon
understood the reason why. At each question they threw timid glances
at the two watch-dogs, and I saw that fear of these made them withhold
all information. However, after a good deal of trouble I got to know
that the priest was the parish priest, and his companion in misery
the burgomaster. They had been taken as hostages, and would suffer
punishment for acts the villagers might eventually commit against the
German usurpers. I contented myself with this, as I felt that in the
circumstances further questions might make things awkward for these two
men.

What might happen next? Sitting on a chair in a corner of the room I
began to consider my position. For the moment it was not agreeable,
but by and by those officers might find time to look at my papers. The
only thing I bothered about was a map marked with the places where,
according to the latest news, the German and French armies were. I
kept it in an inside coat-pocket, and it might be found if they should
search me.

I spent three hours in the small room with my silent companions.
At last I was called, and appeared once more before the casual
court-martial.

"Very well, now give me those papers."

Having got them, several officers examined my credentials, and their
faces showed that the horizon was a little clearer for me.

"Oh, you are a journalist? And what came you here for?"

"Well, sir, I wanted to follow, as far as the German Authorities
desire to allow it, the movements of the German armies, in order to
give reliable information to the Netherland public, who take a great
interest in your progress."

"Indeed! And did you take notes already? Just let me have a look."

The turn things took now was not quite to my liking, and I did not feel
very safe when I handed him my scribbling-pad.

"I cannot read a word of it! Can you read it at all yourself? Yes? Oh,
but I cannot understand it. Translate some of it."

That was a relief! I began to translate, taking the liberties to which
every translator is entitled. And I succeeded in making a favourable
impression by censoring my own manuscript.

"Well, that is right enough. But, mind, don't say in your paper that
you found troops here, and especially avoid telling which troops."

"Very well, sir."

"Nor must you tell them that we detained you here. That was really
not our intention at all, but just now we had no time to examine your
papers."

"All right, sir."

"And what is the news in The Netherlands about the war?"

"Well, sir, not much beyond what you are sure to know already: that
Japan declared war against Germany; that the Russians invaded Germany;
that the French gained some important victories in Alsace; that the
German fleet lost some ships...."

"Oh, bosh! Stop it! These are, of course, all lies from Reuter; they
did not come from Wolff. Japan is not going to declare war against us;
much rather against Russia!"

"Oh, but, sir, Wolff confirmed these reports."

"Oh no! That is impossible, and, after all, we are not afraid of Japan
either. You had better write in your paper that we are not afraid of
anything excepting Montenegro. And you may also inform your readers
that it is better for Netherlanders not to cross the frontier, as we
are going to apply much stricter measures. For we have evidence that
those people from Visé and other villages who fled to The Netherlands
are returning with forged papers, in order to shoot at us. And now you
may go, but back to Maastricht at once."

"But will you then please give me a pass, otherwise I may be detained
again on my way back."

"Oh yes! You may have that!"

And the commanding officer gave me a pass, on which this very same
colonel who had prohibited me to write in my paper what troops were at
Riemst, put a stamp on that pass, which contained the German eagle, and
besides this the words: "Royal Prussian 8, Reserve Infantry Regiment,
II Battalion." This confirmed what the rumours said, that the troops
who had passed through Visé and other places during the last days and
committed those atrocities there, were the reserves which had been
called up, among whom discipline is less strict than among the younger
men, who arrived in these districts during the earlier days.

Although I had been commanded to return "at once" to Maastricht, I
succeeded in having a chat here and there with the inhabitants of
Riemst. I had visited the village about eight days ago, but what a
change! Then the people assured me that "die Duutschen"[2] were not so
bad after all, that they were compelled to do their duty, and were kind
to the inhabitants if these were kind to them.

And at present? Every word expressed hate, profound hate, hardly
controlled. They trembled all over when they spoke in deep, inspiring
voices about "die Duutschen."[2]

Everything of value had been stolen from them: horses, cows, sheep,
carts, bicycles, everything, everything!--only in some cases payment
was made with tickets, which might be cashed after the war. During the
night the German soldiers slept in the rooms, but the inhabitants--men,
women, children, babies and sick persons--they locked in barns and
cellars, which they boarded up.

I was not allowed to return by bicycle, and left it at a café at the
crossing of the roads to Tongres and Riemst. A couple of days later the
Germans had already abstracted the tyres.

The road to The Netherlands was strewn over with empty wine-bottles.




CHAPTER VII

LIÈGE AFTER THE OCCUPATION


NEXT day I was already back in Liège, where much was changed after my
last visit. The Germans went on terrorising the inhabitants, and these,
being extremely frightened, looked with suspicion at every stranger.
In the streets was the smoke of burning houses, especially from
Outre-Meuse.

In every quarter I met Belgian refugees from the south, and
Netherlanders who wanted to escape to their safe native country. The
Liège people themselves were not allowed to leave.

Nearly every hour another proclamation was posted; and this made the
people still more nervous. One of them brought the information that
the province of Liège had to pay a war-tax of fifty million francs.
Another forbade the people to be out in the streets after six o'clock
p.m.; the doors must remain open, the windows show the lights. Burning
and shooting were threatened if any more arms should be found, and all
houses were to be searched.

Many shops were closed on account of lack of stock, as everything had
been requisitioned, and as yet no traffic was allowed to bring in fresh
provisions. All this bother made the inhabitants discontented, but
frightened them at the same time; they grumbled and whispered, and
looked about with malicious, flaming eyes, but in mortal fear.

Labourers were called up to assist in reinforcing the conquered forts
on the left bank of the Meuse, the forts which by and by might be used
to shell their fellow-countrymen, in case the Germans should be forced
to retire. Nobody will have offered himself for this work voluntarily,
the less so as the proclamation wound up as follows:--

    "Des ouvriers volontaires seront embauchés à partir du 21 Août sur
    la rive gauche de la Meuse, où on fera connaître les conditions
    détaillées":

    ("Voluntary workmen will be enrolled from August 21st on the left
    bank of the Meuse, where details of the conditions will be made
    known.")

The streets and squares where the high military officers had
established themselves were closed by cordons of soldiers, and nobody
was allowed to pass them.

The town was entirely shut off from war- and other news.

I informed a few priests of the Pope's death, which had been known in
The Netherlands for several days. They knew nothing about it, and asked
whether I had any proof by me. I gave them _De Tijd_ printed with a
black border, and armed with this document they went to communicate the
sad news to the Right Reverend Rutten, bishop of Liège.

I also brought consternation to the nunnery at which my cousin
lives by this same report of the Holy Father's demise; and the good
dear Sisters roamed through the passages, wringing their hands and
repeating: "Le Pape est mort!--le Pape est mort!" ("The Pope is dead!")

I met a doctor at this nunnery, who told me highly important news,
but in whispers, because in these days "even walls have ears": the
Allies had gained great victories over the Germans. As he saw by the
expression of my face that I did not believe off-hand all he told, he
became still more impressive in manner, and produced a paper, from
which he recited:--

    "Great German defeat at Libramont--nine thousand prisoners taken."

    "In Alsace the French are near the Rhine."

    "The Russians advanced fifty miles into East Prussia."

In the same way the list went on for a goodly length, and he became
actually angry when even then I refused to believe everything. He was
especially pleased with the account of the victory near Libramont. He
had a friend, also a physician, who had been compelled by the Germans
to go with them in the medical service, and this friend had told him
this himself. It was remarkable that educated, superior persons could
become so narrow-minded in times like these, and believed anything
simply because they hoped that it might be true.

The town was full of soldiers, and I had great trouble to find
lodgings. "Tout est pris par les Allemands" ("Everything is taken by
the Germans") was the answer I got everywhere, with the result that I
was still hunting for a bedroom after six o'clock, although nobody was
then allowed in the streets. I was stopped at every turn, and after
explaining my case got a hint to hurry up.

At last I found an hotel, where I could have a small garret,
against which arrangement I had not the slightest objection in the
circumstances. The café downstairs looked rather peculiar, with a great
number of looking-glasses, and ladies with powdered faces. These seemed
not averse to closer relations with me, but when I pretended not to
understand a single word of French, they soon gave it up, and showed no
further desire for my friendship. But I could see quite well that they
discussed the question whether I was a German officer or a spy?

I went to bed early, for that day I had again walked from Maastricht to
Liège. My little bedroom was quite in the roof of the house, and had
evidently been used by a servant.

About midnight I was roused by an infernal noise in the street. People
yelled and screamed most fearfully, and I heard rifle-shots also.

I felt not the slightest inclination to go and see what was the matter,
but I stretched myself and yawned, feeling much more tired after a
couple of hours' rest than when I went to bed. The uproar went on, and
suddenly I thought that I also heard a hubbub in the café downstairs.
And, really, it came ever nearer. People rushed up and down the stairs,
screamed and yelled, doors were banged, in short it was as if they were
pulling down the house.

Very sleepy, I went on listening ... listening ... probably until I
fell asleep again, for I cannot remember what happened after.

I woke up in the morning, and when going downstairs saw that the
doors of all the rooms stood open, and everything inside was in great
disorder. In the café tables and chairs were overturned, and broken
looking-glasses lay on the floor. The front door was also open, and I
walked away.

And now the explanation? During the night the Germans had started
house-to-house searches, and wherever the doors were not opened quickly
enough, the soldiers began to shoot. The inhabitants were then driven
into the street amid loud screams and cries. It was also said that some
persons had been shot.

By what accident had I not been disturbed? The height, perhaps, at
which my miserable little garret-room was situated.

The hotel where I stayed that night was called _Hôtel de la Paix_; an
hotel of peace, indeed!




CHAPTER VIII

LOUVAIN DESTROYED


As soon as I heard about the horrors that took place at Louvain, I
hastened to try and get there to find out, if possible, by personal
observation the truth of the numberless conflicting stories that would
undoubtedly grow up from the facts. I expected that the situation
round about the town would be rather critical, and decided to proceed
cautiously. It is rather a long stretch of nearly forty-five miles, but
I succeeded in getting to Louvain in the afternoon.

The road itself had prepared me already in some degree for the horrors
I should find there. All the villages through which I passed, excepting
Tongres and the townlets of St. Trond, Borgloon, and Tirlemont, were
for the greater part burned down or shelled into ruins. The German
troops, who had been stoutly resisted during their march through
St. Trond and Tirlemont, had attacked in a great rage the civilian
population. They set the houses on fire and aimed their rifles at the
terror-stricken civilians who fled from them. The men were nearly all
killed, but women and children were shot as well.

On the road from Borgloon to Thienen I had a chat with an old crone,
who stood weeping by the ruins of her miserable little cottage, which
she refused to leave. This little house, which strenuous zeal had
enabled her to buy, was all she possessed on earth besides her two
sons, both fallen through the murderous lead of those barbarians,
and buried in the little garden at the back of their ruined home. Of
another family, living close by, the father and two sons were murdered
in the same way.

Between Thienen and Louvain I met endless trains of refugees, exactly
like those I had seen already near Visé, Liège, and other places. These
also carried their wretched bundles, and children and young people did
their utmost to encourage and support their elders on their arduous
path. All these people saluted me in a cringing, timid manner, nodding
smilingly and taking off their caps already from afar.

I saw some extremely poor people, very old and stiff, to whom walking
was nearly impossible. A Bavarian soldier escorted them. He had his
rifle slung across his back and in both hands carried the luggage of
the unfortunate creatures. He seemed to have come a long way already,
for he looked tired, and the perspiration ran down his face. Although
it is only natural to assist one's fellow-creatures, this scene touched
me, for hitherto I had seen the Germans commit rough, inhuman deeds
only.

I noticed the smell of fire already several miles from Louvain. On
both sides of the road small mounds indicated the graves of soldiers
who fell during the brave resistance of the Belgians before Louvain.
A small wooden cross and some pieces of accoutrement were the only
decorations. Carcases of horses were lying in the fields, from which
came a disagreeable smell.

The town was on fire, and ruddy smoke hovered over it. Deserted like a
wilderness, not a soul moved in the streets. The first street I entered
was the Rue de la Station. Large, imposing mansions used to stand
here, but the devouring fire consumed even the last traces of former
greatness.

All houses were on fire, and every now and then walls fell down with
a roar of thunder, shrouding the greater part of the street in a
thick cloud of suffocating smoke and dust. Sometimes I had to run to
escape from the filthy mass. On several walls an order was written
in chalk directing the men to come to the market-place to assist in
extinguishing the fire, and the women to stay indoors. As soon as the
order had been obeyed the Germans drove the men from the market to the
station, where they were packed in trucks like cattle.

Farther on in the Rue de la Station lay nine rotting carcases of
horses, the intestines oozing from the bodies, and a greasy substance
was poured over their skin. The stench was unbearable and made
breathing nearly impossible, which compelled me to jump on my bicycle
and escape as quickly as possible from the pestilential surroundings.

The sun was already setting, and became still redder, making still more
abominable and more infernal the glare of the burning town. Nobody
moved about in this abode of death.

I roamed about aimlessly in a scorching heat. Whither? I did not
know myself. I did not know Louvain and met nobody whom I might ask
something. I came near a couple of streets that were only ruins; the
walls collapsed against each other and filled the roadway with rubbish,
so that sometimes I could not see whether I walked on or beside the
place where the houses used to stand.

Bicycling was of course out of the question; I shouldered my bicycle
and stepped across the glowing cinders, which singed my soles. One spot
could still be recognised as a street corner. Three soldiers emerged
there suddenly and aimed at me with their rifles.

I explained who I was, and was then allowed to come nearer. They were
drunk, and with glassy eyes talked about francs-tireurs, the friendship
Germans felt for Netherlanders, and so on. One of them entered the
still burning corner house and returned with three bottles of wine, one
a bottle of Champagne; corks were drawn and one of the bottles handed
to me. First I said that I never took wine, then that the doctor had
forbidden it; it was of no use. The fellow who held the bottle in front
of me got nasty, and shouted:

"If you don't drink with us you are not our friend." At the same time
he beat the ground with his rifle-butt and, willy-nilly, I had to drink.

Suddenly several shots sounded in the neighbourhood. The three took
their rifles and looked round, somewhat scared. They assured me that
they would protect me. If there had been occasion for it, it would have
been against their own comrades, for a troop of soldiers came sailing
along, swinging about their rifles and shooting at the burning houses
as they walked on, without rhyme or reason, anyhow and anywhere. These
were drunk also. At last I was able to shake off my "friends," and got
through another street into the market-place, at the town-hall and St.
Peter's Church. The beautiful town-hall happily was not destroyed, as
the first reports intimated, but St. Peter's had been damaged most
cruelly. The spire had disappeared, the roof collapsed, windows broken,
the altar burned, the pulpit badly damaged, and so forth. The two
last-named parts were fine works of art.

For the rest most houses in the market-place were on fire. Soldiers
were billeted on one of the corner houses, and I was of course detained
there, but released again, after having been requested to show up the
francs-tireurs. I had to consider also where I might pass the night in
this burning city? I asked an officer's consent to stay the night with
the soldiers. He gave his permission if I could get the consent of the
commanding officer, whom I might find at the station; he told me that
he was sure to grant it.

Before I got there I passed the Halls of Louvain, the building that
contained the world-famous library, with its numerous art-treasures.
Only the outer walls were left standing, inside it was all ruins. All
was reduced to dust, to miserable rubbish, and never will one single
page be recovered of all those thousands of burned manuscripts.

I was greatly astonished to see a little old man sitting by his
house, while all those in the neighbourhood were burning. His own
dwelling had escaped without much damage, and was only hit by rifle
bullets. He told me that his family had fled, his son with wife and all
children but one, a small boy. At length he left also, but had lost
his way outside the town, and returned to his house, where the Germans
"allowed" him to remain. I considered that I might after all sleep
better in that house than yonder among the soldiers, and asked the
little man whether he would put me up for the night. He did not object
at all; but in spite of my pressing, he refused absolutely to accept
any payment.

"But," he said, "but perhaps you brought some bread with you to eat on
the road, and I should like to have a piece of that ... not for myself
... but for my grandchild; we had nothing to eat all day long, and the
little boy is so ... is so hungry."

The poor man wept, and, although I had taken with me no more than two
pieces of bread-and-butter, which I had not touched yet, I could not
bear the sight of these poor, hungry things, and handed over to them my
food.

As I passed a Red Cross Hospital, partly spared, I noticed a Flemish
doctor, who first looked at me from the door held ajar, and then came
nearer; a strapping young fellow with a black beard. After I had made
myself known as a Netherlander, he was clearly surprised, and it seemed
as though he had a lot to ask or to tell. I expected to hear a torrent
of abuse against the Huns, who had destroyed everything, and murdered
so many innocent people, or a lament about the valuable treasures of
the library, which also had not been spared; but no, other thoughts
occupied his mind. With a slightly trembling voice he asked:

"Ah well, you come from The Netherlands; tell me whether it is true
that you have let the Germans through, allowing them to ravish us? Tell
me whether this is true?"

The man became quite excited, and took hold of my sleeve. He
looked me straight in the face, as if he wanted to find out by the
expression of my eyes whether I spoke the truth. I could easily stand
the scrutinising look, for I knew too well how utterly false those
suspicions were. So I replied with great emphasis:

"I know that those rumours have been spread about, but also that they
were contradicted by Belgian officials. I know also, and can affirm it
from my own personal observation, that there is not a single word of
truth in those accusations, for I passed the early days of the war in
the district where the fight was going on."

The good man's face became quite cheerful, he grasped my hand, deeply
moved, and, pressing it warmly, said:

"Ah, well, I am sincerely glad to hear that. You cannot believe what
awful sorrow it gave us, Flemings, when we heard that the Netherlanders
were conspiring with the Germans."

The doctor now became more communicative on other matters. According to
him the Germans contended that the inhabitants had been shooting from
windows and cellars, in order to prevent the garrison from assisting
their comrades, who were fighting a battle against the Belgians at
a distance of about four miles and a half from the town. Such an
organised action of the inhabitants, under the tyrannical rule of
the Germans during the eight days before the destruction, he called
impossible, and therefore the whole accusation absurd. At any rate
they had felt that the destruction was coming, and had been planned
systematically, for during those eight days the Germans had plundered
the population, and taken from them all bread, even what they required
to feed themselves.

To avenge this alleged shooting by civilians the fires had been kindled
in the houses, maxims placed in the streets, women and children beaten,
men imprisoned or murdered.

The discovery by the Germans of so-called depôts of Belgian rifles,
each rifle labelled with the name of a citizen, was a gigantic
"misunderstanding." Already before the Germans occupied the town the
burgomaster had issued an order that all arms should be delivered. The
inhabitants had obeyed, and the rifles were provided with a card so
that each might be returned to the lawful owner after the war. This
collection of arms has been used by the Germans as evidence of an
organised revolt of the citizens.

When I told the doctor that I had to go to the station, he explained to
me how I could get there without walking across red hot cinders, and
I followed his advice. I walked through quarters which used to be the
pride of the city, but were now turned into heaps of rubbish.

They made also sad havoc of the Boulevard de Namur. Many mansions of
the aristocracy had been destroyed and many people killed. There were
corpses still lying on the Boulevard as I passed, all in a state of
decay. The smell was unbearable and the sight loathsome, especially
when I saw several drunken soldiers insulting the bodies of these
unfortunate people.

In the flowerbeds in front of the station many corpses had been
buried, especially those of soldiers who had been killed in the fight
near Louvain. The station itself was well guarded, but, thanks to
my passport and resolute manner, I gained admission and was finally
ushered into the presence of the man who is responsible for the
destruction of Louvain, Von Manteuffel.

I had expected to meet a terrible creature, but must admit that he was
as kind as possible. As soon as he had learned from my papers that I
was a Netherland journalist, he jumped up and stood in the attitude
as though he saw in me the personification of the Kaiser. He already
probably felt the pangs of remorse, and now wanted to try and justify
himself as far as possible in the eyes of the public.

He stated that the cause of the destruction was the necessity of
punishment, because Belgian soldiers in civilian dress had stayed
behind in Louvain, waiting to attack the German army from behind at the
first favourable opportunity. They thought that their chance had come
when for a short time the German troops had to be withdrawn from the
fortified camp of Antwerp to take their share in a fight near Louvain.
Von Manteuffel thought that by attacking the troops in the town the
Belgians hoped to prevent the Louvain garrison from assisting their
comrades.

He did not seem to mind much the destruction of the Halls with
their world-famous wealth of books; anyway he spoke about it in an
unconcerned tone. But he seemed to attach great importance to the
safety of the town-hall. He said that when the buildings adjoining the
town-hall began to burn, he had them blown up in order to keep the fire
away from the beautiful monument.

As darkness was coming on I asked him whether it was not dangerous to
pass the night in the house of that little old man, whom I mentioned
above. He saw nothing dangerous in it, as by far the greater part of
the town was deserted, and no attack need be feared.

So I thought that I might chance it. The house was some distance from
the station, near the railway line; opposite stood a sort of goods
station guarded by six soldiers. Before entering the house I had a
chat with them, for I thought that if I explained my position and told
them that the commanding officer gave me permission to pass the night
in that house, I should be much safer if anything should happen during
the night, because they knew then that they had to deal with a neutral
journalist. They might moreover warn me should the fire that was
raging all around reach that house. So I told the whole story to these
fellows, who were also more than half drunk, showed them my passports,
gave them some cigars, and after a friendly chat went to the old man
who was to put me up for the night.

There was of course no gas lit, and there was no paraffin lamp in
the house. I was shown to my room by the dim light of a candle. The
old man could hardly get up the stairs, as he was trembling all over
in consequence of the days passed in fear and dread. The ceiling of
my bedroom had been pierced by bullets, and the fragments covered
nearly the whole of the bed, which had not been made after it was last
used. The unaccustomed work of stripping and making the bed was soon
finished, and I was hardly ready when a soldier entered at the door,
which had to be left open by order, and shouted from the bottom of the
staircase that I was not allowed to have a light, and must blow out my
candle.

I was soon fast asleep, tired out by my bicycle ride of that day of
about forty-five miles, and my wanderings through Liège. But my rest
was not to be a long one. At about ten o'clock I was awakened by a
great noise on the stairs, and was surprised to see six armed soldiers
in my room. That is not exactly a pleasant manner of waking up after so
short a sleep. They informed me in a gruff voice that I had to get up,
to dress and follow them. As I obeyed the order, I asked what gave me
this unexpected honour; but they refused to enlighten me on that point.

After I had dressed in their presence, they searched all my pockets,
and felt all over my body to find out whether I had any arms concealed
about me. Then three soldiers went downstairs, I had to follow these,
and the other three came in the rear. I did not understand at all of
what capital crime I was suspected which made it necessary to have me
arrested by six soldiers armed to the teeth.

We waited in the street for two of the soldiers who went to fetch the
old man. After waiting a good while the poor wretch appeared between
them. He wept profusely, and between his loud sobs affirmed repeatedly
that he was innocent, that he did not know me, that I told him I was
a Netherland journalist, and so on, and so on: "Oh, gentlemen!--oh,
gentlemen!" he exclaimed, "I must not leave my little boy ... my
laddie; ... he is quite alone.... Oh, let me go!" ...

I pitied him from the bottom of my heart, and tried to console him by
remarking that it was all a misunderstanding, and that I would see to
it that he would soon be released.

"Come now quietly," I said; "so much the sooner you will be back with
your laddie."

But he did not take any notice of all my exhortations and was entirely
impervious to them in his grief. So I went to the station side by side
with the weeping man, and surrounded by the six soldiers. The crackle
of the flames, the sound of collapsing houses seemed more terrifying
in the night than in day-time, and now and again I got a shock when
suddenly, by the uncertain light of the flames, I saw the corpse of a
civilian lying in the dark shade of the tall trees on the Boulevard.

Whenever our escort fancied that they saw something, they stopped and
called out to the supposed approaching persons: "Who goes there?"
Sometimes it was only some shrubs that they saw; at other times
patrolling German soldiers. "Parole?" was asked: "Duisburg!" and
after that answer they came nearer. At the station I was taken to an
officer who sat at a table on the platform and had lit up his nearest
surroundings by means of a paraffin-lamp. My little old man wept now so
badly that he was quite unmanageable, and the officer made up his mind
to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

"Tell me, father," he began, "did you allow this man by your side to
stay the night at your house?"

"Oh ... oh ... let me ... go to my laddie ... let me go ... oh ...
oh...."

"Yes, all right, you may go, but we only want you to tell us what you
know of this man."

"Oh--oh ... I don't understand you ... let me go ... my little boy
... we have nothing to eat ... we are innocent ... I do not know the
gentleman ... oh ... oh!"

I took the liberty to explain to the officer that the man did not
understand him, and stated that he did not know me.

"Then, why did you want to stay at the man's house?--what brought you
here?"

Thus my examination opened. I told him everything from beginning to
end, also that the commanding officer had given me permission to stay
at that house, that I had shown my papers to the soldiers at the goods
station opposite the house, and that I did not understand why I should
be put to all this inconvenience.

He explained to me that one of those soldiers accused me of ... spying
and arson. He had thought to recognise in me a person who had asked him
that afternoon whether he was ... a Belgian or a German soldier, and
whom he had also seen escaping from a factory which was in full blaze a
moment later.

Highly indignant, I claimed of course that that soldier should also be
called; but I was told that I had better assume a more modest tone. I
then asked to be taken to the commanding officer, whom I had seen that
afternoon; but he was away on inspection or something, and would not
return before the next morning.

After this the officer examined my papers carefully one by one, and had
to admit that they were in perfect order. Still, he had no authority to
take a decision before I had been seen by the commanding officer.

The old man was allowed to go home, escorted by the same soldiers. At
the very moment that he was about to leave, I happened to notice on
the platform a gigantic heap of loaves, brought in by train for the
soldiers.

"Do you know," I asked the officer, "that this old man and his
grandchild are starving? He put me up because I gave him a couple of
pieces of bread-and-butter for the child." He looked at me somewhat
crossly, but inquired all the same whether my information was
correct, and then gave the old man two loaves, which dried his tears
immediately, and for which he thanked the donor in a quivering voice.

Two soldiers now took everything I had in my pockets, even my watch and
my purse. This brought also to light a German map of Belgium, with a
stamp "For military use only." I was told in a gruff voice that this
was a highly suspicious thing, and that they could not understand how
it got into my possession. I replied quite coolly that I had bought the
thing in Aix-la-Chapelle for one mark, where it could be had in many
shops, and that the words "For the military only" merely revealed the
shrewd German commercial instinct, which knows that people always like
to possess things which are not meant for them.

I believe that this made him angry; at least he ordered me to take off
my shoes also, and their inside was carefully examined.

I was now escorted to a spot where on some straw several soldiers were
sleeping, who had to do sentry-go at two o'clock that night. It was a
part of the platform which was not even roofed, and entirely under the
open sky. But they anyway had straw to lie on, and sufficient cover,
but I had to lie down between them on the flags, without any blanket. A
separate sentry was commanded to watch me; every two hours another was
charged with the task. I was allowed to try and sleep, with the warning
that I should be shot at the slightest attempt to escape.

It was a chilly night, and a dense heavy fog made it impossible to see
anything.... My "bed-fellows" raged and fumed at me, saying that I was
one of those villains who had treacherously shot at them. I shivered
from the cold, and felt, as it were, the dampness of the wet stone
floor entering my system.

While all the others were denouncing me, one soldier was ready to
believe that I was a peaceful foreign journalist, and that all the
misunderstanding would disappear the next morning as soon as I should
be taken to the commanding officer. He took pity on me, and got a thick
soldier's coat for me as cover. I still feel grateful to the man for
it! But sleep was out of the question on that wet floor, in the dense
fog. When the guard was changed and soldiers came back, or others went,
they could not see in the dark where they went, and treated me to a
kick against my head or some other part of my body.

It was a fantastic night. Trains arrived out of the foggy darkness,
their screeching whistle resounding from the far distance, and when
they steamed into the station a storm of noise arose. All these trains
brought British prisoners of war, captured by the Germans at St.
Quentin, and hundreds of German soldiers escorted the trains, which
were all covered over with green branches, and looked like copse-wood
sliding along the railroad. As soon as they rumbled into the station
the escorts sang loudly their patriotic songs, and "Germany before all
other!" ("Deutschland über Alles!") vibrated through the fog.

The soldiers lying round about me, and those in other parts of the
station, got up, shouting, "There are the British," and ran towards
the arriving trains. They jeered at the beaten enemies in all sorts of
vulgar and filthy words, which made the German enthusiasm absolutely
lacking in chivalry. Eight trains with captured British arrived during
that night.

At seven o'clock in the morning I was taken to the commanding officer,
and was glad to see him again. He jumped up immediately and came to me
with a charming smile, when I pointed to my escort and explained that I
was a prisoner.

He flushed red with anger, and asked the sergeant what it all meant.
The latter told the story and I filled in some details.

He showed the most profound indignation, and offered his apologies with
lively gestures. He said that my papers proved quite clearly that I was
a Netherland journalist. He declined to allow any further examination,
and gave the peremptory order that everything that had been taken away
from me should be returned at once. When I had put everything in my
pockets, he asked:

"Have they given you back everything?"

"Yes, sir," I replied, "excepting my pocket-knife."

"Where is that knife?" Von Manteuffel asked the sergeant who had
fetched my belongings.

"But that is a weapon, general!"

"Return that knife at once!"

The general expatiated once more on the francs-tireurs of Louvain, and
asked me to explain in my papers without fail that the citizens had
to thank themselves for what had happened. The sergeant who had taken
me to him was ordered to escort me, that I might not have any further
trouble with the soldiers in the city.

I started on my return journey to The Netherlands sick to death. The
consequences of lying on that wet floor made themselves badly felt,
and besides being quite stiff and chilly, my interior was badly out of
order.

Many refugees returned to Louvain that morning simply driven by
hunger. I myself lived still on the breakfast I had at Maastricht on
the previous day, and badly wanted something to eat, but still more
a cup of hot coffee, to warm my chilled body. I was able to get the
coffee--without milk or sugar--from a peasant along the road, but food
was out of the question. Most of the people had nothing left, others
saved a piece of bread as hard as a brick for the moment when hunger
might drive them to extreme distress. Whatever sums I offered, nothing
could be had before I came to Tirlemont, where I was able to buy three
eggs.

I had a rather amusing meeting at Tongres, with a Netherland colleague,
who was on his way to Louvain.

"Where do you come from?" was his first question.

"From Louvain!"

"Have you been there already? I am going there too. How are things
there?"

"Have you got anything for me to eat?" I asked, not heeding his words.

I said it quite innocently, without any other desire beyond that of
taking off the edge of my really trying hunger. But the effect of my
question was surprising indeed. He looked at me dumbfounded, and asked:

"But where did you stay then during the night?"

"I have been arrested."

"And did you not get anything to eat?"

"No!"

He was back in The Netherlands before me.




CHAPTER IX

LOUVAIN UNDER THE MAILED FIST


THE next day at Maastricht I tried to cure the evil results of that
night on the damp floor in Louvain by eating great quantities of rice
and drinking much cocoa with liberal doses of cinnamon, but as it was
of no avail, I started again the next morning.

The majority of the refugees returning to Louvain belonged to the
lower classes, and they began to loot and plunder the town, encouraged
thereto by the German soldiers, who threw the things into the streets,
and said: "Take it, if you like!" In extenuation of the looting and
plundering I might say that the poor wretches tried before all to get
hold of half-burned eatables.

During my first visit I estimated the number of civilian victims at
about eighty. This number turned out to be larger, as many during the
second fire fled to their cellars, exits of which were however choked
up by the collapsing walls. The corpses of numerous suffocated citizens
were found in these cellars.

At many monasteries I heard painful details of the treatment suffered
by priests. The majority were made prisoners, and many were tied to
trees during a whole night and afterwards released. Several were
killed. I heard, for example, at the convent of the Jesuits that
a student of theology, Eugène Dupiereux, had been murdered, simply
because he was found to have kept a diary of the war in which he had
expressed a rather unfavourable opinion about the Germans. In the same
manner two Josephite brothers were murdered, who later on were found to
be Germans; of other priests who had been killed, the names were not
yet known.

Many clerical gentlemen connected with the University had been
ill-treated in the most atrocious manner. The architect Lenertz, a
native of Luxemburg, also connected with the University, had been shot,
for no reason at all, before the eyes of his wife at the moment that he
left the house. And Louvain was so effectively cut off from the outer
world that in most convents I was asked whether the rumour was true
that the Pope was dead! And at that time his successor had already been
appointed.

I succeeded in laying my hands on an original copy of a proclamation
that ought not to have been posted before the following day. I took the
document with me to The Netherlands, and it is of special interest,
because in it the Germans admit to have tyrannised the people, and
to have not only burned Louvain, but also ransacked the town. The
proclamation had been drawn up in concert with the German authorities
and was approved by them. It was in French and in Flemish, and read as
follows:

    "PROCLAMATION

    _"To the inhabitants of the City of Louvain_

    "We have in vain visited our municipal representatives. The last
    of them, Alderman Schmidt, who was prevented from fulfilling his
    office, surrendered to us the municipal power on August 30th.

    "I believe that it is my duty to take that task upon me, assisted
    by some well-known burgesses, who have undertaken to stand by me.

    "In agreement with the German Military authority I invite the
    inhabitants of Louvain to return to the city, and to take up again
    their usual occupations.

    "The orders issued by Monsieur Collins remain valid.

    "I mention more especially:--

    "1. That it is prohibited to be out of doors after seven o'clock
    (Belgian time) in the evening.

    "2. That all who are in possession of any arms, of whatever
    description, or any munition must at once deliver everything at the
    town-hall.

    "3. That everything that may appear hostile to the German army must
    be avoided with the utmost care.

    "_The German military authority have promised us that on these
    conditions no further burning and looting shall take place and that
    the population shall no longer be threatened or embarrassed._

    "We are engaged now most actively upon the re-establishment of the
    municipal services: Police, Municipal Register, and the Services of
    the Canals, which services will all be reopened as soon as possible.

    "The police service will be performed in the daytime by some
    volunteers, who will wear an armlet in the municipal colours, and
    an identity card, both officially stamped. Well-minded persons,
    who are willing to perform these duties, are urgently requested to
    present themselves at the town-hall to-day at four o'clock in the
    afternoon.

    "The acting burgomaster, A. NERINCX.

    "The town-clerk, EUG. MARGUERY.

    "The committee of burgesses! DR. BOINE, _Pastor_ CLAES, DR. P.
    DEBAISIEUX, DR. DECONINCK, CH. DE LA VALLÉE-POUSSIN, MONSEIGNEUR
    DEPLOIGNE, P. HELLEPUTTE, A. THIERY, DR. TITS, L. VERHELST, V.
    VINGEROEDT.

  "LOUVAIN,
  "_September 1st_, 1914."

Pastor Claes, mentioned in the above proclamation, has done very much
for the miserable Louvain population; they owe him especially much
gratitude for an act of devotion with regard to the murdered victims.

In the immediate neighbourhood of the railway station a house was
being built, of which only the foundations were laid. The place showed
nothing beyond a huge cavity. I had noticed already several times that
there was an atrocious stench near the station, which at last became
unendurable. Pastor Claes, who courageously entered all destroyed
houses to look for the dead, had discovered the victims also in this
place. In the cave just mentioned he found sixteen corpses of burghers,
two priests among them. In order to remove them from the street the
Germans had simply thrown them into that cave, without covering the
corpses in any way. They had been lying there for days, and were
decaying rapidly.

I witnessed Pastor Claes's labours for a moment only, for the smell was
unbearable even at a somewhat considerable distance. The good pastor
persevered in the work after having started it, with the assistance
of some faithful helpers, who all of them had sealed their mouths
with a sponge soaked in some disinfectant. The corpses were taken
from the cave, money and documents put away in separate bags, and the
unfortunate owners coffined and blessed.

During the next days I found a hospitable domicile at the convent of
the Sacred Heart on the Namur Canal ("Naamsche Vest"). It is a seminary
for missionaries, and when I went to them for the first time I had
a letter from their head, the "provincial" in The Netherlands, who
sent the order that all the theological students should be transferred
to The Netherlands as quickly as possible. They received me with the
greatest kindness, and ever since I enjoyed their hospitality.

A short time after the destruction I was even obliged to accept it for
a whole week, as on the same day on which I arrived in Louvain for
another visit there was renewed fighting round the town. The Belgians
had advanced as far as Rotselair, where the next day they held their
ground against overwhelmingly superior numbers; but at last they had
to retire, leaving a great many dead behind. The Belgians had even got
on to the road Tirlemont-Louvain, and blown up the railway line in two
places.

On that occasion the Germans arrested me at about two miles from
Tirlemont. Firstly, because I travelled by bicycle, and secondly,
because I was accused of having "cooked" one of my passports.

This was so far true that I had altered the dates of a passport,
which allowed me to stay in Louvain from September 6th till the 14th,
into the 8th and the 16th. When taken to the commanding officer in
Tirlemont, I convinced him so thoroughly of my complete innocence, that
the next day I was allowed to go on to Louvain.

There the German authorities detained me for a full week, by
prohibiting me to return: "for the sake of your own safety," they told
me courteously. During the day I was busy enough, and in the evenings I
enjoyed the pleasant company of the three fathers of the Sacred Heart
who had remained in the mission house, and with whose photographic
instrument I took many a snapshot of the Louvain ruins.

The mission house had become a sanctuary for a good many people.
As bread was lacking, two brothers fried pancakes all day long and
distributed them among the numberless persons who asked for food. Among
these were people who a few days earlier belonged to the well-to-do,
but who saw their business, in which often more than their own capital
was invested, wrecked by fire, and were now obliged to appeal to the
charity of these monks. Indeed during the first weeks after that
terrible event many starved, and I assisted often at the distribution
of the pancakes, because they were short-handed.

In this grand old monastery, both inside and out a jewel of
architecture, about five hundred people had found shelter. They were
lodged in halls, rooms, and kitchens. The fathers gave them everything
in the way of food they might require, but they had to do their own
cooking. As not one of these people had a home left, which they could
call their own, no wonder that they greatly admired the fathers. Often
when I strolled about with one of these, one or other of the refugees
came to him to press his hand and express gratitude for the hospitality
offered.

In this way I got into conversation with a middle-aged lady. Her
husband had been shot, and she got a bullet in her arm, which had to be
amputated in consequence. The poor creature had lost all courage, and
lived on her nerves only. It was remarkable to hear this father find
the right words, and succeed in making her calm and resigned. Before
she left us, she had promised that for her children's sake she would do
all in her power to control herself.

During the week of my compulsory stay in Louvain I had also the
privilege of making the acquaintance of two brave compatriots; I mean
Professor Noyons and his wife.

They never left Louvain. On August 25th information was sent to the Leo
XIII Institution for Philosophy, a building turned into a hospital,
that a hundred wounded men might be expected towards evening. That
evening began the wild shooting and burning of houses by the Germans,
and soon a large number of wounded was taken to the Institution.
Suddenly Professor Noyons recognised one of his servants among the
wounded who were brought to him for treatment. She had three bullets
in her side. After having bandaged her wounds, he hurried away to his
house, in order to see what had happened.

He thought that it was sufficiently protected by the immense Red Cross
flag, and the words written on the door by the Germans themselves:
"Professor Noyons, Netherland physician, to be spared." But he had been
mistaken. The soldiers did not respect anything, and had forced an
entry into the house, wounded that servant, and then wrecked everything
in the most scandalous manner. Beautiful large Japanese jars had been
smashed to pieces, valuable furniture damaged by knocking and breaking
large pieces out of it with rifles and bayonets. A fine carpet was
burned, as well as many pieces of furniture. A hole was burned even in
the floor.

Professor Noyons took me over the house and showed me the destruction.
Bullets had been lodged in the inner walls after piercing the windows
and on a level with the windows. By lengthening the line of trajection
one found that the bullets must have been fired at a distance of nearly
six hundred yards, which proves that the Germans simply fired at random.

As Professor Noyons heard that other hospitals, churches, and ancient
buildings were not spared either, he went to the commanding officer
through the rain of bullets, clad in his white overalls, to claim
protection for everything that lawfully displayed the Red Cross
flag, and to request that churches, convents, ancient buildings, and
especially the town-hall should be spared. It is only owing to his
intervention that not much more was destroyed in Louvain.

On the Thursday of the week of destruction the inhabitants were
notified that they had to leave the town, but Professor Noyons and his
wife decided to stay on, as they could not leave the one hundred and
fifty wounded men who were laid up at the Institution.

They carried all those patients into the cellars on stretchers, and
there waited with the nursing staff for the bombardment that had been
announced, but never came off.

Professor Noyons took me all over the hospital, and if I should
describe all I saw and heard there, that story alone would fill
volumes. He took me, for example, to a boy of eight years old, whose
shoulder was shattered by rifle-shots. His father and mother, four
little brothers and a sister, had been murdered. The boy himself was
saved because they thought that he was dead, whereas he was only
unconscious. When I asked for his parents, brothers and sister, he put
up his one hand and, counting by his little fingers, he mentioned their
names.

There lay also a woman, with one leg amputated. Her husband had been
murdered, another bullet had entered the leg of the baby in her arms.
Another woman had her child murdered in her arms.

Women and children had frequently been ill-treated in a most atrocious
manner, aged and sick people were dragged out of the houses, and flung
down in the street. This happened, for example, to an old man, who lay
dying in his cellar. In spite of the supplications of his wife and two
sons, he was flung on the cobbles, where he died soon. The sons were
taken prisoners and sent away. His widow assists at present nursing
other unfortunates at Professor Noyons' hospital.

A paralysed woman who had also been flung into the street was nursed
at the hospital, and lay with many others in the chapel of the
Institution, which had been turned into a ward.

Belgian and German soldiers found excellent nursing here. Many
convalescents were allowed to walk in the large garden, which was
happily divided by a large wall, so that the one-time combatants could
be separated.

Professor and Mrs. Noyons were busy day and night on behalf of their
fellow-men, and one could quite well tell by their looks that they were
overworked. They took their rest in the kitchen, which was built in
the basement. All male and female voluntary nurses took their meals
there.

Once I enjoyed the pleasure of partaking of such a "dinner," as the
guest of Professor and Mrs. Noyons. The company was very mixed, and
men who never in their lives had ever done anything else but spoiling
their eyes for the sake of science, by reading all manner of ancient
manuscripts, were now busy, dressed in a blue apron, stirring the soup
and mashing potatoes or vegetables. The menu comprised nothing but
potatoes, a little vegetables, and a finely calculated piece of meat.

At that dinner I also made the acquaintance of Professor Nerincx, the
acting burgomaster. It was a courageous act to assume the government
of the town destroyed by the Germans; he did it for the sake of his
fellow-citizens, who will never be able to requite their indebtedness
to the temporary burgomaster for what he did for them; and most of them
do not even know it.

The war is not over yet, and much is still hidden under a veil, but
after the war it will undoubtedly be the duty of the Louvain people to
twine a magnificent wreath round the three names Noyons-Nerincx-Claes.

The names of many priests will be found in the register of Belgian
martyrs. I have mentioned already some who, although innocent, gave
their life for their country. During my week's stay at Louvain I heard
of other cases. The priest of Corbeek-Loo, for example, was simply
tortured to death on account of one of his sermons in which he said
that the fight of the Belgian army was beautiful "because it lawfully
resists an unlawful invasion," and further for announcing a Holy
Requiem Mass for the souls of the "murdered" citizens.

At Blauwput, near Louvain, where, according to the Germans, there had
been also shooting, many houses were set on fire and the men placed
in a row. It was then announced that by way of punishment every fifth
man would be shot. When the Germans counted as tenth the father of a
large family, that man fainted, and they simply killed number eleven, a
Capuchin.

Very many other cases of martyrdom among priests remained unknown to
me, but the various Belgian bishops examined all these events with
praiseworthy zeal and scrupulousness, and by taking extensive evidence
established the fact that in no case the victims could be reproached
with any act that justified the sentence against them. After the war
the world will surely be made acquainted with the horrible truth.

       *       *       *       *       *

The foregoing record of my experiences in Louvain will make it
sufficiently clear to the unprejudiced reader that the destruction
and wholesale murders were nothing but wanton crimes committed by the
German troops stationed there, crimes which it is impossible to justify
on any ground.

The duration of the war has more or less surprised me, and I postponed
writing this book for a long time as I wished to quote the evidence of
persons in high places, clergymen, and educated foreigners. As the war
is not over yet, I must omit these in the interest of their safety.

But from my personal knowledge and the evidence referred to, I am able
to establish the following facts in connection with the events that
preceded and followed the destruction of Louvain.

On August 25th the Antwerp garrison made a sortie, in the direction of
Louvain. At the beginning the Belgians were successful, and came within
four and a half miles of this town. For a moment the situation became
critical, and at about seven o'clock a small troop of cavalry came at a
furious gallop from the scene of battle to Louvain, probably to summon
the assistance of the garrison.

At that hour the Namur Canal ("Naamsche Vest") was already dark in
consequence of the thick foliage of tall trees, and suddenly the wild
horsemen were shot at. Several neutral witnesses established the fact
that this was done by a small troop of German infantry who came from
the station, probably on their way to the battle-field, and thought
that Belgian cavalry came racing into the town.

The men stopped their horses, dismounted, and returned the fire from
behind their animals. This went on for about a quarter of an hour.
Every one was alarmed by this shooting; other soldiers came racing in
from the station, and others ran to and fro near that building crying,
"A surprise attack!" Some, thinking that the attack came from the
advancing Belgians, rushed to the place where the fighting took place,
others misunderstood the cry, believed that the citizens assaulted
them, and began to shoot at these, and at the houses.

Before those on the Naamsche Vest found out their mistake, the shooting
was going on in the greater part of the town, and the excited men, who
at first had been shooting at each other, soon joined the rest. Some
wounded troopers were taken to one of the convents on the Vest, but a
couple of hours later they were suddenly fetched away again.

The whole evening and the next day the Germans went on shooting people
and firing houses. It is worth recording that the library was already
set on fire that same evening of the fray on the Naamsche Vest; it was
burning at eight o'clock.

On Thursday everyone, even the persons staying in the Institution and
hospitals, were ordered to leave the town, as it was to be shelled.
They seemed to have no pity even on the wretched wounded men. Only the
male and female nurses remained with these, of their own free will,
determined to die with them if necessary.

The inhabitants were driven to the station, where the husbands were
cruelly separated from their wives and several persons were shot.
Other men were escorted to a place behind the station, and their wives
and children were told that those men were going to be shot. The poor
things heard indeed the click-clack of the rifles and thought that
their dear ones were dead. However, many returned later, and their
"shooting" seems to have been a mere sham.

Great crowds walked the long way to Tirlemont. They were constantly
threatened by German soldiers, who aimed their rifles at them; passing
officers commanded from time to time that some should stay behind,
and others were shot. Especially did the clerics amongst the refugees
suffer a great deal; many were not only scandalously scoffed at, but
also maliciously injured. The greater part of the Germans showed a
strong anti-Catholic bias, in particular against the clergy, whom they
accused of having incited the people against them.

This is only a short record of the destruction of Louvain, the
truthfulness of which will be firmly and fully established after the
war by extensive, accurately drawn up declarations.

Louvain had been destroyed because a crowd of wanton soldiers, who were
garrisoned there, who hated the Belgians, and who had been kept within
bounds with difficulty, seized on their own stupid mistake to give rein
to their passions.

Their commanding officer was the worthy head of such a mob, a heartless
creature, who did not show the slightest remorse for the destruction of
those magnificent libraries, set on fire _by his order_.

It has been alleged that civilians had been shooting from the Halls,
but when a committee examined the remains in the building with the
consent of the military, they found there the carcase of a German
horse. They were ordered to stop their investigations immediately, for
that horse was evidence ... that German military men had been billeted
on the building, and thus no civilians could have been there. This will
also be published later in the reports.

The German authority left indeed no effort untried to cover up their
atrocious action. Already in a communication from Wolff, dated August
29th, they attempted to violate the truth by asserting that:--

"The houses caught fire from burning benzine, and the flames burst out
in other quarters also. On Wednesday afternoon part of the town and the
northern suburb were in flames."

They have not been able to maintain that story for very long; the truth
overtook the lie.

May all the nations of the world after the war collaborate to
compensate Louvain for her martyrdom, see that this city shall be
restored to her former, happy prosperity, and get a library which
approaches as much as possible the one she lost. The Germans can
probably do their part by investigating where the motor-cars went which
left the Halls on that wretched Tuesday night, heavily laden with
books.




CHAPTER X

ALONG THE MEUSE TO HUY, ANDENNE, AND NAMUR


BETWEEN two of my several trips to Louvain I made one to Namur in the
beginning of September, after having secured at Liège, by a trick, a
splendid permit which enabled me to travel even by motor-car.

There was a little more order in the whole district round Liège,
since the Germans behaved more decently, and provisions had arrived.
The shock, which the burning and butchering of so many places and
persons gave to the whole world, had also influenced the conduct of
the Germans, and from the beginning of September they made a practice
of asking each time when they thought that they had behaved decently:
"Well, are we such barbarians as the world calls us?"

In this relative calm the population felt somewhat relieved, and
ventured again into the streets. Outdoors on the "stoeps" of the
houses men sat on their haunches smoking their pipe and playing a game
of piquet. Most of them were vigorous fellows, miners, who did not
mind any amount of work, but now came slowly under the demoralising
influence of idleness.

My motor whirled along the gloriously fine road to Huy. It is a
delicious tour through the beautiful valley of the Meuse, along sloping
light-green roads. Had the circumstances not been so sad, I should have
enjoyed it better.

I had already been near Huy, at a time when several burning houses
shrouded the whole town in clouds of smoke. On August 24th, at ten
o'clock at night, some shots had been fired in the neighbourhood of the
viaduct. This was a sign for hundreds of soldiers to begin shooting at
random and arrest several persons. Several houses were perforated like
sieves by bullets, and an entire street of twenty-eight houses, the Rue
du Jardin, was reduced to ashes. No civilians were killed.

It is evident from the "Report on the Violations of International Law
in Belgium" that the Germans themselves admit that they were in the
wrong with regard to the atrocities which were committed here. The
following order of the day proves it:

    "Last night a shooting affray took place. There is no evidence that
    the inhabitants of the towns had any arms in their houses, nor is
    there evidence that the people took part in the shooting; on the
    contrary, it seems that the soldiers were under the influence of
    alcohol, and began to shoot in a senseless fear of a hostile attack.

    "The behaviour of the soldiers during the night, with very few
    exceptions, makes a scandalous impression.

    "It is highly deplorable when officers or non-commissioned
    officers set houses on fire without the permission or order of the
    commanding, or, as the case may be, the senior officer, or when by
    their attitude they encourage the rank and file to burn and plunder.

    "I require that everywhere a strict investigation shall take place
    into the conduct of the soldiers with regard to the life and
    property of the civilian population.

    "I prohibit all shooting in the towns without the order of an
    officer.

    "The miserable behaviour of the men has been the cause that a
    non-commissioned officer and a private were seriously wounded by
    German ammunition.

                                               "The Commanding Officer,
                                                 "MAJOR VON BASSEWITZ."

I was informed further that there had been no fighting for the
possession of Huy. The citadel on which the German flag flew had not
been put in a state of defence on account of its great age. The old
bridge over the Meuse at Huy had been wrecked by the Belgians, but the
Germans had simply driven stout piles into the river, to support a
floor which they put over the wrecked part, and so restored the traffic.

During my visit I happened to make the acquaintance of Mr. Derricks, a
brother of the lawyer who had been murdered so cruelly at Canne, and
also a member of the Provincial States. The poor man was deeply moved
when he heard the details about his brother's death. I made him very
happy by taking a letter with me for his sister-in-law, who was now at
Maastricht.

At Andenne things seemed much worse than at Huy. I stopped there on
my way to Namur, and had been prepared in Liège for the sad things
I should hear. A proclamation posted in the last-named town ran as
follows:--

                                                  "_August 22nd_, 1914.

    "After having protested their peaceful sentiments the inhabitants
    of Andenne made a treacherous attack on our troops.

    "The Commanding General burned down the whole city with my
    consent, shooting also about one hundred persons.

    "I acquaint the inhabitants of Liège of this, that they may
    understand what fate threatens them if they should assume a similar
    attitude.

                                      "The Commanding General-in-chief,
                                                          "VON BUELOW."

General von Buelow says here that he gave his consent to the shooting
of about one hundred persons, but I can state with absolute certainty
that there were about 400 victims. We must therefore assume that the
other 300 were killed without his consent.

Andenne, on the right bank of the Meuse, was a town of 8,000
inhabitants. When the Germans arrived there on the morning of August
19th they found the bridge connecting Andenne and Seilles wrecked. In
the afternoon they began building a pontoon bridge, which was ready
the next day. They were very much put out about the wrecking of the
other bridge, by the Belgian soldiers, a couple of hours before their
arrival. Their exasperation became still greater when they discovered
after having finished the pontoon bridge, that the big tunnel on the
left bank of the Meuse had also been made useless by barricades and
entanglements.

By refusing to pay at cafés and shops the military already expressed
their dissatisfaction. Then on Thursday, August 20th, about six in
the evening, after a great many troops had crossed the river by the
pontoon bridge, a shot was heard which seemed the sign for a terrible
fusillade. Guns seemed to have been mounted at convenient places
outside the town, for shells exploded right at its centre. The troops
did no longer cross the bridge, but spread themselves in a disorderly
manner all over the town, constantly shooting at the windows. Even
mitrailleuses were brought into action. Those of the inhabitants who
could fly did so, but many were killed in the streets and others
perished by bullets entering the houses through the windows. Many
others were shot in the cellars, for the soldiers forced their way
in, in order to loot the bottles of wine and to swallow their fill of
liquor, with the result that very soon the whole garrison was a tipsy
mob.

It struck me always that as soon as something took place anywhere
which might lead to disorder, the method adopted was as follows: first
a fusillade in order to scare the inhabitants, secondly looting of
numberless bottles of wine, and finally cruel, inhuman murders, the
ransacking and the wrecking.

The game of shooting and looting went on all through the night of the
20th. Not a window or door remained whole even if the house was not
burned down altogether.

At four o'clock in the morning all the men, women, and children who had
not yet been put to death were driven to the Place des Tilleuls, but
on the way many men had their brains blown out. Amongst others, Dr.
Camus, the septuagenarian burgomaster, was then wounded and afterwards
received the finishing stroke by a hatchet.

At the Place des Tilleuls fifty men were taken from the crowd at
random, escorted to the Meuse, and shot. In the meantime other soldiers
went on wrecking, firing, and looting.

Andenne offered a dismal spectacle. The doors and windows of the houses
that were not completely burned down had been kicked and beaten to
pieces, and boards had been nailed before the holes. The inhabitants
hung about disconsolately, and I could tell by their faces how they
suffered, for every family in the town mourned the death of one dear to
them.

They all became excited whenever I mentioned the accusations brought
against them. They asserted with the greatest emphasis that it was an
absolute lie that the civilians had shot. "Even if they torture me to
death," said most of them, "I'll still contend that this accusation is
untrue."

The German officers, of course, held a different opinion; they alleged
that the shooting by the civilians was even very general and purported
to be a decided attack on the army. I asked them whether they had found
any rifles or other arms at the "searches" of the houses--I expressed
myself somewhat cautiously on purpose--for that ought to have been the
case if such a great number of citizens had joined in the shooting.
"No," they answered, "they were sly enough to see to it that we did not
find these. They had been buried in time, of course."

The answer is, surely, not very convincing!

The Germans had flung some more bridges across the river beyond
Andenne, which had been used for the occupation of Namur chiefly,
and lay idle now guarded by only one sentry. I left by the town-gate
without any difficulties; the German soldiers jumped out of the way and
stood to attention, as soon as they noticed the Netherland flag flying
at the front of the motor. To the right and the left of the gateway
they had written in gigantic letters: "Newspapers, please!"

Namur was shelled on August 21st and the 23rd. Many houses were then
already wrecked, many civilians killed. On the 23rd the Belgian army
withdrew and only some of the forts were defended. This withdrawal
of the Belgian army may have been a strategical necessity, but it is
certain that the forts had not been defended unto the last. Five forts
fell into the hands of the Germans without having suffered any damage.

On the afternoon of the 23rd the hostile troops entered the town,
and on that day the inhabitants had not to suffer, excepting from
requisitions made. But the following evening it was suddenly on fire
at various spots, and the soldiers began to shoot in all directions,
making many victims. Before setting the houses on fire, with a liberal
use of the lozenges mentioned already, the usurpers ransacked them and
removed numerous pieces of valuable furniture. The Place d'Armes, the
Place Léopold, the Rue St. Nicolas, Rue Rogier, and the Avenue de la
Plante were almost entirely reduced to ashes. With the town-hall many
valuable pictures were destroyed. The day following the conflagration
they left off shooting at last, but the looting went on for days more.

When I drove into Namur, I found the town comparatively quiet; there
was some traffic in the streets, and Belgian army surgeons and British
nurses in their uniforms walked about freely. There were many wounded:
the German wounded were all placed in the military hospital; the
Belgians and the French had been taken to the Sisters of Mercy, the
Institution Saint Louis, the High School for Girls, and the Sisters of
Our Lady.

When I was eating a little at one of the hotels near the railway
station, I was offered the newspaper _l'Ami de l'Ordre_, which had
appeared again for the first time on that day, September 7th, under
the Censorship of the German authorities. For curiosity's sake I
translate here the first leaderette, published under the rule of the
new masters:--


    "ENOUGH DESTROYED, ENOUGH DISTRESSED!

    "More than one hundred houses have been burned or wrecked at Namur,
    among them the town-hall, the house at the Namur Citadel, and the
    Institution for ophthalmology in the Place Léopold. In the Grand
    Marché and its neighbourhood about sixty have been destroyed by
    fire. If we add to this the damage done by the bombardment from
    Friday the 21st until Sunday the 23rd August, and the wrecking of
    the bridges after the retreat of the army, we may estimate the
    losses at 10,000,000 francs.

    "Industry, trade, and agriculture exist no longer, labour is
    unemployed, and food is getting scarce, and over this dismal scene
    hovers the memory of numerous victims, of hundreds of prisoners of
    war or missing soldiers. During the bombardment of August 23rd one
    hundred persons were killed outright, or succumbed to their wounds.
    There are innumerable other wounded. This it is plain must have
    plunged the town into deep distress.

    "It mourns the lost liberty, the happiness, the peace, the
    brightness of her past prosperity which has vanished for a long
    season to come, it laments on account of the prisoners of war, the
    wounded, the dead.... And every morning the brilliant sun rises on
    the scene, the warm rays bathe town and country, both alike cruelly
    lashed by the frightful scourge.

    "Yesterday crowds of believers prayed for peace, for that
    blessing which is only valued when it is lost. Let us repeat our
    supplications twofold, let us increase our zeal. Lord! O Lord!
    listen to the voice of Thy people who pray to Thee! Be merciful!
    Give us back our peace!"




CHAPTER XI

FROM MAASTRICHT TO THE FRENCH FRONTIER

THE DESTRUCTION OF DINANT


ADVENTURES incite to ever more risky undertakings, and we long
constantly for more sensation. Such an experience prompted me to an
arrangement with Mr. Tervooren, editor of _Het Leven_, to try to motor
to the French frontier.

We left Maastricht, in the early morning of September 9th, with a smart
fellow as chauffeur. Louvain we found tolerably quiet, although fearful
scenes were witnessed in the search for corpses, which were found in
the cellars of many houses.

On that day I saw for the first time in Belgium German sailors
and marines, and even an admiral and some officers. At that time
the appearance of the naval men gave the newspapers much room for
conjectures; it was found later that they were to be used in the attack
on Antwerp, and afterwards had the task allotted to them of occupying
the sea-board.

I found sailors also in Brussels, but for the rest there was only
a little military display there. In this town reigned a certain
oppressive silence and the cafés were not much frequented. The
Brussels people did not hide their patriotic sentiments, and nearly
every house displayed the Belgian flag, thanks chiefly to the strong
attitude of Burgomaster Max. Outwardly Brussels had not suffered by
the war; not a house was damaged and nobody had been killed yet. Nor
was there lack of provisions, as was proved by the fact that at the
"Métropole," one of the largest restaurants, I paid only seventy-five
centimes (sevenpence-halfpenny) for bread, cold beef, and pickles.

We met only a few Germans on the road from Brussels to Charleroi, and
found no garrison except in the townlet Hal. Very little burning had
taken place on this road, but so much the more plundering and looting.
A woman took us all over her house in the neighbourhood of Brussels, to
show us the total wrecking. Small pieces of furniture were generally
taken away, but stoves, kitcheners, and cupboards were smashed. She
herself had had her face badly wounded, because she had hidden herself
in the cellar when the Germans came near, and they had beaten her out
of that with their rifle-butts. Many other women were treated in the
same manner.

When we came to Jumet, a suburb of Charleroi, and a prosperous place
with flourishing factories, we found the whole town wrecked.... Nearly
all the houses were burned immediately after the occupation by the
Germans, and many inhabitants were killed, of course under the pretext
that they had been shooting.

After driving through this scene of misery we entered Charleroi, and
exactly at that moment one of the springs of my motor broke in two,
which made the car useless. Charleroi seemed worse damaged than Namur.
According to an official statement issued at the time, one hundred
and sixty-five houses had been burned, among them many on the fine
Boulevard Audent, the Saint Joseph Institute, the convent of the Sœurs
de Namur, and the adjacent ancient, miraculous little chapel of "Sainte
Marie des Remparts."

Probably more than one hundred civilians had been shot, whereas many
perished in the cellars. The heads of the municipality and several
priests had at first been taken as hostages. Bail of ten million francs
was asked for their release, but after much haggling they consented
to accept one and a half millions, which sum was forthcoming from the
various local banks.

Just as at Louvain and other towns, the Germans indulged in looting and
plundering also at Charleroi; and probably this explains why here too
the finest houses were destroyed. Moreover, many atrocious cases of
rape occurred here as at Dinant, about which town more anon. At a café,
where the proprietor unburdened his mind to me, with tears in his eyes,
I read a statement in which they were impudent enough to write that
they had passed a pleasant night in circumstances described in detail,
whilst the father had been locked up.

Charleroi was taken on August 22nd. On the evening of the 21st a small
patrol had entered the town, and of these not a man escaped. But in the
morning of the 22nd at seven o'clock a large force of Germans arrived
and immediately began to burn and to shoot.

On the day of my stay at Charleroi, at about seven o'clock in the
evening, there was a good deal of bustle round about the station,
many trains from Maubeuge arriving. One of these trains was entirely
filled by officers of the garrison who had been taken prisoner. Another
carried only wounded Germans, lying on light stretchers, on which they
were transported through the streets to the hospitals at Charleroi.
Many had fearful wounds, and convulsively held their hands on the
injured parts, while others lay still, the pallor of death on their
face. Maubeuge must have cost the Germans enormous sacrifices, as for
many of the wretched wounded no room could be found at Charleroi, and
they had to be taken farther by train, to Namur or Brussels.

German officials told that immediately after the surrender Maubeuge
had been set on fire in various places, because civilians, etc.... The
reader is by now able to complete the sentence.

After I had collected some information in the town and my colleague of
_Het Leven_ had taken several snapshots, we thought that it was time to
look for lodgings and to get our motor-car repaired.

We found rooms, but were guarded during the night by soldiers, who
walked up and down the landing, because there were officers also
staying at the hotel. Their regular footfall prevented us from sleeping
a wink, but with the help of some fibs and Netherland cigars we induced
them to let us go out, and we went to a sort of smith in a kind of
garage to repair the motor-car. We turned up our sleeves and, assisted
by the smith's technical directions, succeeded in putting the broken
spring together, using stout steel clamps and screws.

Before leaving we went back to the hotel for breakfast. There--it was
a first-class hotel--they gave us an apology for coffee, without milk
or sugar, and two flimsy pieces of bread, as hard as wood and as black
as shoe-polish. I was intensely hungry, and as nowhere at Charleroi
anything else could be had, I did my best with the wooden bread and
succeeded in washing it down with much chewing and jawing. But the
sweet, hard stuff did not suit my digestion, and I felt ill already
when at six o'clock we got into the motor-car and left for Dinant.

We could not keep to the main road all the time, for it was forbidden
by proclamation to go farther than nine miles and a half from the town,
and we should have been stopped without fail.

We first drove through the suburb Montigny-sur-Sambre, which shared the
fate of Jumet, and was entirely destroyed by fire. After leaving the
town we went in the direction of Châtelet, where we found an immense
battle-field. Terrific fighting must have taken place here, for the
number of buried was enormous. On a wide stretch of land we saw a great
number of mounds, with crosses, and covered with quicklime. On the
crosses the numbers are given of the brave who fell there. So I read,
for example:--

  "Here rest 10 soldiers, French, I. Reg. 36.
  fell 22.8. R.I.P."

  "Here rest 23 soldiers, German, I.R. 78. and
  91. fell 22.8.14.  R.I.P."

  "Here rest 7 officers, German, I.R. fell 22.8.14.
  R.I.P."

  "Here rest 140 soldiers, French, I.R. 36. fell 22.8.
  R.I.P."

There were very many similar ones, but I copied only these, because
they lay just near the road; farther on there were numerous other white
mounds with crosses.

The villages Gougnies and Biesmes had been destroyed also; of the
former not one house was left undamaged; but nothing happened to the
townlet Mettet. Here we were forbidden to go on, as we were already
more than nine miles and a half from Charleroi. This compelled us to
leave the main road, and to proceed along byways which soon took us to
the Ardennes, where our motor-car rushed along in zigzags.

From time to time the tour became a break-neck affair, as the mountain
roads were wet and muddy after much rain, and at corners we were often
in great fear of being hurled down into the depth. It was a wonderfully
fine district of green rock, although somewhat monotonous after a time,
as it seemed that we were simply moving in a circle, which impression
was strengthened by the fact that frequently we passed through tunnels
and viaducts which were very alike to one another.

I felt very sick, for the sweet rye-bread which I had forced down my
throat in the morning did not agree with me at all. At last I felt so
ill that I was obliged to lie down on the floor of the car, and it
took my colleague all his time to convince me that he did not think
that my last hour had struck.

In the end and in despair I accepted an aspirin tablet which he had
pressed on me a hundred times, and although I do not know whether
it was owing to that, or in spite of it, it was a fact that I felt
somewhat better.

After touring quite a long while through this labyrinth, we got at
last back to the main road from Namur to Dinant, near Anhec. Here
immediately we saw proofs of war, drawn from widespread destruction.
The railway bridge across the Meuse near Houx, so picturesquely
situated at the foot of a high rock, had been blown up.

Bouvigne, a hamlet near Dinant, had suffered fearfully from the
bombardment of that town. Trees were splintered by the shells, the
church was nearly a total wreck from the same cause, and two houses by
the road had been riddled by bullets into a sieve, and also damaged
by shells. On the whole scene of war I have not seen one house
carrying so many bullets in it; their holes made the doors look like
wire-netting. In these houses the French had barricaded themselves,
brought mitrailleuses to them, and defended them until the last. None
of those heroes left them alive. My colleague took many snapshots of
this remarkable spot, while I collected bullets, fragments of shell,
and similar mementos of this warfield.

In order to give the reader some idea of the fearful things that
happened at Dinant, I insert here some quotations from the reports
drawn up by the Belgian Inquiry Committee about the Violations of
International Law, of which I can affirm the truth word for word,
because they are identical with the information that I got myself at
Dinant.

    "The destruction took place from August 21st to the 25th.

    "On August 15th a fierce fight took place between the French troops
    on the left bank of the Meuse and the Germans who approached from
    the east. The Germans were defeated, put to flight, and chased by
    the French, who crossed the river. On that day the town was not
    damaged much. Some houses were destroyed by German howitzers, which
    were undoubtedly aimed at the French regiments on the left bank.
    One Red Cross helper who lived at Dinant was killed by a German
    bullet when he was taking up one of the wounded.

    "The next day all remained quiet, the French keeping the
    surrounding places occupied; not one fight took place between the
    two armies and nothing happened which might be looked upon as a
    hostile action by the populations, and there were no German troops
    near Dinant.

    "At about nine o'clock of Friday evening, August 21st, German
    soldiers arriving by rail from Ciney marched into the town by the
    Rue Saint Jacques. They began to shoot into the windows without the
    slightest provocation, killed a workman who was on his way home,
    wounded another inhabitant and compelled him to call out: 'Long
    live the Kaiser.' A third they wounded in the abdomen with thrusts
    of their bayonets. They burst into the cafés, requisitioned all
    spirits, got tipsy on them, and left after setting several houses
    on fire and knocking to pieces the doors and windows of others.

    "The inhabitants, frightened and perplexed, hid themselves in the
    houses.

    "On Sunday, August 23rd, at half-past six in the morning, the
    soldiers of the 108th regiment of the line drove the worshippers
    out of the Premonstratensian Church, separated the men from the
    women, and shot about fifty of the former through the head.
    Between seven and nine o'clock there were house-to-house looting
    and burning by the soldiers, who chased the inhabitants into the
    street. Those who tried to escape were shot off-hand.

    "At about nine o'clock the soldiers drove all who had been found
    in the houses in front of them by means of blows from their
    rifle-butts. They crowded them together in the Place d'Armes, where
    they kept them until six o'clock in the evening. Their guards
    amused themselves by telling the men repeatedly that they would
    soon be shot.

    "At six o'clock a captain separated the men from the women and
    children. The women were placed behind a line of infantry. The men
    had to stand alongside a wall; those in the first row were ordered
    to sit on their haunches, the others to remain standing behind
    them. A platoon took a stand straight opposite the group. The women
    prayed in vain for mercy for their husbands, their sons, and their
    brothers; the officer gave the order to fire. He had not made the
    slightest investigation, pronounced no sentence of any sort.

    "A score of these men were merely wounded and fell among the dead.
    For greater certainty the soldiers fired once more into the mass.
    A few got off scot-free in spite of the double fusillade. For over
    two hours they pretended to be dead, remained among the corpses
    without budging, and when it was dark were able to fly to the
    mountains. Eighty-four victims remained behind and were buried in a
    garden in the neighbourhood.

    "There were other murders on that same 23rd of August.

    "Soldiers discovered inhabitants of the suburb Saint Pierre in the
    cellars of a brewery, and killed them on the spot.

    "On the previous day many workmen of the silk factory Kimmer and
    their wives and children had found a shelter in the cellars of the
    building, with some neighbours and relatives of their employer. At
    six o'clock in the evening the unfortunate people made up their
    mind to leave their hiding-place and went into the street, headed
    by a white flag. They were immediately seized by the soldiers and
    roughly ill-treated. All the men were shot, among them Mr. Kimmer,
    Consul of Argentina.

    "Nearly all the men of the suburb Leffe were massacred en masse.
    In another quarter twelve citizens were murdered in a cellar. In
    the Rue en Ile a paralytic was shot in his bath-chair, and in the
    Rue d'Enfer a boy, fourteen years old, was struck down by a soldier.

    "The railway viaduct of the suburb Neffe became the scene of a
    bloody massacre. An old woman and all her children were shot in a
    cellar. A man sixty-five years old, his wife, a son and a daughter
    were placed against a wall and shot through the head. Other
    inhabitants of Neffe were placed in a boat, taken to the Rocher
    Bayard, and shot there; among them were a woman eighty-three years
    old and her husband.

    "A number of men and women had been locked in the yard of the
    prison.... At six o'clock in the evening a mitrailleuse was placed
    on the mountain and fired at them, an old woman and three others
    being killed.

    "Whilst some soldiers committed these murders, others looted
    and wrecked the houses, smashed the safes or blew them up with
    dynamite. They forced their way into the Banque Centrale de la
    Meuse, seized the manager, Mr. Xavier Wasseige, and called upon
    him to open the safe. As he refused to do so, they tried to force
    it open, but in vain. Thereupon they took Mr. Wasseige and his
    two eldest sons to the Place d'Armes, where they and 120 of their
    fellow-citizens were shot by means of a mitrailleuse. The youngest
    three children of Mr. Wasseige were held by soldiers and forced to
    attend the slaughter of their father and brothers. We were also
    informed that one of the young Wasseiges lay dying for an hour and
    nobody dared to come to his assistance.

    "After the soldiers had performed their duty as vandals and bandits
    they set the houses on fire. Soon the whole town was one immense
    pool of fire.

    "All the women and children had been taken to a convent, where they
    were kept imprisoned for four days, without hearing of the fate of
    their beloved ones. They themselves expected to be shot in their
    turn. Round about them the burning of the town went on.

    "The first day the religious were allowed to give them some food,
    although not sufficient. Soon they had nothing to eat but carrots
    and unripe fruit.

    "The inquiry also brought to light that the German soldiers on
    the right bank, who were exposed to the fire of the French, hid
    themselves here and there behind civilians, women and children.

    "In short the town of Dinant is destroyed. Of 1,400 houses,
    200 only remained standing. The factories, where the labouring
    population got their bread and butter, were wrecked systematically.
    Many inhabitants were sent to Germany, where they are still kept
    as prisoners. The majority of the others are scattered all over
    Belgium. Those who stayed in the towns were starved.

    "The committee has a list of the victims. It contains 700 names,
    and is not complete. Among those killed are seventy-three women and
    thirty-nine children between six months and fifteen years old.

    "Dinant had 7,600 inhabitants, of whom ten per cent. were put to
    death; not a family exists which has not to mourn the death of some
    victims; many families have been exterminated completely."

When we entered the town in our motor-car, those of the unfortunate
population who had escaped from the murderous massacre had already left
the town. Between the ruins and the deserted French Red Cross cars we
drove to the pontoon bridge which the Germans had flung across the
river by the side of the Meuse bridge, which had been blown up. Here
we were stopped by German soldiers who guarded the pontoon bridge. In
a café we came across a few of the citizens who had remained. These
unfortunate people had no home, no money, and no food, lacked the
wherewithal to go farther away, and now depended on the charity of the
murderers of their relatives. Twice a day they were allowed to call at
one of the German stores for a piece of bread, in exchange for a ticket
which they might get at the commander's office. The Germans, upholders
of morality and "Kultur," saw to it that their victims did not overeat
themselves.

Our passport had to be stamped by this same commander, and my colleague
had to ask him for a permit to take photographs. The commander
would not hear of this, but finally agreed, after my colleague had
snapshotted him and his staff in front of the office. Our passport was
marked: "1. Landsturm Infantry Battalion, Dresden."

Dinant offered a terrible sight; it no longer existed. On foot, of
course, we walked along the place where a large shop once stood, but
one could not even distinguish where the road had been. Not one street
was left, and the few houses that were saved are not in the centre of
the town. On a slope on the left bank of the Meuse there had been two
large monasteries, which had been turned into hospitals. They had been
wrecked completely by gun-fire, and as if in bitter mockery at the
cruel fate, the Red Cross flags flew there still undamaged.

In the centre of the town everything, including the large buildings,
had been levelled with the ground. This was the case with the principal
church "de Notre Dame," the college of the same name, the "Belle Vue,"
the monasteries, etc., of the "Frères et Sœurs de Notre Dame," the
"Saint Nicolas" and "Saint Pierre" churches, and three large factories,
"Oudin," "Le Mérinos," and "La Dinant," the "Banque Centrale de la
Meuse," the town-hall, the ancient "Palace of the Prince-Bishops," and
all its archives, the magnificent post-and-telegraph office, the large
hotels "de la Tête d'Or," "des Postes," "des Ardennes," "Moderne,"
"Terminus," the hotels "de la Citadelle," "la Paix," "la Gare," etc.,
etc., the "Institut Hydrothérapique," all houses of the "Bon Secours"
Congregation, etc.

The finest view of Dinant was from the beautiful bridge affording a
passage across the Meuse with the "Notre Dame" in the background. This
church was built just in front of a steep rock, on top of which stood
the citadel of Dinant.

Now the bridge is blown up, the greater part of the church destroyed by
the Germans, and, had nature not been more powerful than their brutal,
clumsy violence, they would have pulled down that rock too. But it is
still there, the solitary remnant of the famous beauty of Dinant.

My companion wanted to take a snapshot of this point, but in order
to enliven the scene somewhat, he requested a few soldiers to stand
in the square in front of the church. Each had a couple of champagne
bottles hanging on his stomach, and refused absolutely to accede
to my colleague's request to remove them. They insisted upon being
snapshotted with those bottles hanging on their bodies! So my companion
took this snapshot of "Kultur" in that condition, houses burned down,
a church destroyed, and in front of these the grinning and coarse
villains, puffing out their bodies, proud of their empty bottles....




CHAPTER XII

ON THE BATTLE-FIELDS


As often as I went on tour to collect news on the scene of war, I got
dozens of messages and letters, which alarmed people sent to the editor
of _De Tijd_, with the request that they should be handed to me for
further transmission to relatives. I took hundreds of them to and from
Louvain.

On Monday, September 14th, I took with me a larger number than ever to
Louvain.

I observed then already that much poverty prevailed, for in many places
I noticed people whose appearance did not suggest that they were
accustomed to that sort of work, creeping quietly in and out of hedges,
carrying bags in which they put the potatoes picked up in the fields.
Naturally they started and looked alarmed, when, suddenly, I passed on
my bicycle.

Round about Louvain everything was prepared for defensive purposes,
artillery being hidden under straw-roofs, only a few yards away from
the farm-houses, and the sentries were very alert. I never saw them
before I was quite near; then they jumped suddenly from behind a tree,
summoning me to stop by lowering their rifle. In the meadows were a
good many newly cut trenches.

Some soldiers were rather friendly when I revealed myself as a
Netherland reporter; they informed me with serious faces that
in Germany two million volunteers were drilling; that in each
garrison-town the majority of the men were left behind as reserves;
that by and by they were going to level Antwerp to the ground, if these
Belgians would not keep quiet; that after all Belgium proved a bigger
job than they had bargained for; that Amsterdam and Rotterdam had been
shelled and Flushing taken by the British; that Germany had now sent
a great number of troops into The Netherlands to protect her against
Britain, because The Netherlands herself had no army at all; and so on
and so on.

One of the soldiers took me to the spot where two days before the
Belgians had blown up the railway which had just now been repaired
by the German engineers. According to his story eighty troopers had
succeeded in surprising a guard of twelve and in pushing on to the
railway.

Near Corbeek-Loo a strong Belgian force had been able even to reach the
main road to Louvain, and there also destroyed the railway, after which
they retreated before the advancing Germans.

These minor actions formed part of the sortie by the Belgians from
Antwerp. One division marched towards Louvain and occupied Aerschot
on Thursday evening, September 10th. On Friday they advanced farther
in the direction of Wijgmaal-Rotselair-Corbeek-Loo, with continuous
hard fighting. On Saturday the fights were fiercest round about these
places, and ended in the evening in a retreat of the Belgians, who
made the enemy pay as heavily as possible for their victory, although
they themselves had to leave behind a good many victims.

Considerations of space forbid me to relate many of the heroic deeds
performed on this occasion, but an exception may be made of the
following:--

When I arrived in Louvain I heard of a young Fleming who was then being
nursed in a hospital established by the Norbertine Fathers, and had
been serving at two pieces of ordnance near Corbeek-Loo. As the army
was forced to retreat in the evening his comrades were compelled to
abandon the two guns, but he had to stay, being wounded in the leg by a
grape shot. The Germans made him prisoner, and tied him to a tree. By
an immense effort he succeeded in tearing himself loose, and dragged
himself towards a farm-house. At a short distance from this goal he was
stopped, however, by a German soldier. The Fleming, putting forth all
his remaining strength, gave the other such a tremendous blow in the
face with his rifle-butt that he fell down dead. Subsequently this boy
reached the farm-house, where he was charitably received. Later on he
was fetched away by the Sisters from Boven-Loo, and finally from that
institution by the Norbertine Fathers.

The Belgians left also a considerable number of dead and wounded at
Wijgmaal and Rotselair. On Tuesday, September 15th, I visited the
battle-fields in that neighbourhood with father Coppens, a Netherland
Norbertine, born at Lieshout. The wounds of the soldiers lying there
were in a most terrible condition, because _the Germans forbade the
removal of the Belgian wounded before all the German dead had been
buried_. In my opinion not only a proof of barbarity, but also an
admission that the Germans themselves must have suffered great losses.

The Wijgmaal battle-field was after all the least horrible. About
ten houses seemed to have been set on fire on purpose; the rest had
suffered badly from the bombardment. All the inhabitants had fled as
soon as the fighting began. The wounded Belgians had been placed in the
large dancing-room of a café, where father Coppens brought them a large
hamper full of eatables and drinkables, and whence also he had them
transported to Louvain. The food was gratefully accepted, but they were
still more eager to get hold of the mugs, as they were very thirsty
in consequence of the high temperature caused by the inflamed wounds;
often we had to prevent them forcibly from drinking too much.

We passed a dead field-officer who still laid hold of a piece of a
flag. When I read that sort of thing in a book, I thought: "how pretty
and romantic," but never believed that this would actually happen in
war-time. I saw the reality now, and, deeply touched, bared my head,
saluting that dead hero. From papers we found on him we saw that his
name was Van Gesthel; like most Belgians, he had been killed by shell.

I went on with Father Coppens and found about one hundred wounded,
of whom only a few had been taken to the houses. Most of them crept
away frightened, but when we told them that we were Netherlanders from
Louvain, who came to bring them food and drink, and to take them away
to be nursed, they got hold of our coats and refused to let us go.

They drank deep, in long draughts, with trembling lips, and beseeched
us not to leave them again: "Oh, gentlemen, then we shall die!" We
swore that we should come back, and that later on carriages would
arrive from Louvain to take them to some convent or hospital; and,
trusting us, they resigned themselves in the end.

Goats, pigs, cows, and other cattle roamed freely through the
village-street, looking for food and licking the faces of the dead.

We entered a stable whence we thought that a sound came. We saw,
however, nothing but a heap of straw, and a pig which ran up against us
near the door. Father Coppens chased it away with a:

"Get you gone, you brute!"

And all at once the straw began to move, a head popped out, and a weak
voice exclaimed:

"Ah well, be you a Fleming?"

The poor fellow had hidden himself, being afraid that we were Germans;
but when he heard the "Get you gone, you brute!" he ventured to show
himself.

"Certainly, my lad," said Father Coppens--"certainly we are Flemings.
What is the matter with you?"

We removed the rest of the straw, undressed him partially, and on both
his legs the most hideous wounds became visible. Septic process had
worsened his condition to such an extent, that the unfortunate boy had
only a short time to live. I moved away ... he confessed to Father
Coppens, who gave him the viaticum, which he carried with him.

Later on people from Louvain came with carts, which we had ordered
before leaving. Thirteen of these carried the wounded away, whilst a
German patrol went all over the village, setting everything on fire.

Father Coppens and I beseeched the German commanding officer to spare
the houses of some people, large families, who came for shelter to the
father's convent. And at length, after long supplications, we secured
exemption for a few houses, inhabited by people who could not have
done anything in a village which had been completely evacuated by the
population, at the beginning of the fight.

In the Hospital Leo XIII, that eager Netherlander, Professor Noyons,
did all he could to save as many as could be saved of the wretched
Belgian wounded; but as rain and cold had done so much harm to the
wounds, amputation of the injured limbs was as a rule the only remedy
left.

Never thinking of rest he went on day and night, taking away the poor
fellows' arms and legs, and all this by the miserable light of some
candles. Gas and electricity were not to be had, the works being idle
after the destruction of the town....




CHAPTER XIII

ROUND ABOUT BILSEN


ALTHOUGH at first I had a different plan, I decided on Saturday,
September 26th, to go first to Riempst--a little walk of three hours
each way--as I had read a report in certain papers quoted from the
_Handelsblad van Antwerpen_ that the church of Riempst had been burned
and the vicars of that parish and of Sichem had been made prisoners.

Arrived at Riempst I found the pretty village church in its full glory
and the vicar engaged in performing his religious functions; the vicar
of Sichem was also still at home. The only part of the report that was
true was that various burgomasters from the environs had been sent to
Tongres and had not returned since. The burgomaster of Riempst, with
whom I had been imprisoned already once, was being searched for by the
Germans everywhere, but could not be found. In several places I heard
also that the Belgians were lying in the woods round about, and that
something was being prepared at Riempst; but no one knew what. So I
decided to go and inquire.

The road was quite deserted, for the people, who live in great fear, do
not venture out.

As far as Bilsen everything seemed equally deserted, but quite near
the town a couple of German soldiers suddenly came to me from behind
a house, and ordered me to stop. They took me with them to the guard,
which was established in the aforementioned house.

There it appeared that my papers were in good order, but at the same
time I was informed that I was to be taken to the commanding officer at
the station and could not be allowed to leave Bilsen for the present.
I was escorted through the townlet, which appeared to be entirely
deserted; but now and then somebody came to his front-door to watch
the latest victim of the Germans being led past. At the station I was
pushed without much courtesy into a keep where six other civilians sat,
who had been picked up as being at large, and whose faces were now
covered with a cold perspiration from fear, because they were firmly
convinced that by and by they would be shot.

Three soldiers stood before the open door and amused themselves by
provoking these people in the most inhuman manner, by abusing them
and telling them that later on they would be hanged or shot. The poor
fellows shivered and their teeth clattered. I, the newly arrived
"swine," was treated in much the same way, but I reduced the insolent
blusterers into the quietest people of the world by warning them that
by and by I would ask the commanding officer whether his soldiers had
the right to call a Netherlander a "swine." That put some heart into my
fellow-victims, and I urged them that they would do best by replying
calmly to any questions which the commanding officer might put to
them. They actually became more composed, and told me the following:

The Germans had evacuated Bilsen some days ago, probably after being
informed that a strong force of Belgians was coming on. As a matter of
fact, only eleven Belgian soldiers had entered the townlet. These had
pulled down the German flag from the town-hall and replaced it by the
Belgian. The station and the railway were then closed to the public
for a couple of hours, and in that time they pulled up the rails in
two places. On Friday evening the Germans returned in great numbers by
train from Tongres, and the train derailed on one of those places; but
no lives were lost, as it went very slowly.

The Germans had then taken it into their heads that the Belgians
occupied Bilsen and the station, and began a terrific fire at the
station and the surrounding houses, although there was not a single
Belgian soldier in the whole town. When they had satisfied themselves
that this was the case, they stopped firing, and were furious on
account of the derailing and the mistake they had made. They then
started a wild hunt for the men, and set about ten houses on fire, as
also the signalman's cottage, because he had not warned them of the
danger by waving his red flag.

They made no allowance for the fact that they themselves had relieved
all railway officials of their functions until later notification. The
signalman was made a prisoner, but released subsequently.

As soon as they began to chase the men, the greater part of the
inhabitants fled in dire fear, most of them towards the Campine. In
the fields and the shrubberies the Germans must have killed a good many
of the male fugitives, and made the others prisoners. Among the latter
were my six fellow-victims.

That same Friday evening the women and children living in the Rue de
la Station were told to leave their houses as the whole street was to
be burned down. Everybody fled, but the design was not executed. The
burgomaster and his son were taken prisoners, and brought to Tongres;
later on the son was released; the Very Reverend the Dean was also
arrested.

The latter himself told me that he was released in order to instruct
the vicars in the eighteen parishes of his deanery that they should
inform their parishioners that the whole village would be burned and
the inhabitants killed if the railway-line should be broken up, no
matter whether it were done by Belgian soldiers or others.

After I had been incarcerated for about two hours I was taken to
the commanding officer, Major Krittel, or rather to one of his
subordinates, Captain Spuer, who was having a violent altercation with
his chief. The captain appeared to insist with great force that the
whole place should be burned down and all the prisoners shot. But the
major seemed to be a tolerably reasonable man, tried to soothe the
captain, and at last put down his foot, saying that he had had enough.
The captain, a rude, fat fellow, sat down at a desk and bellowed at me:

"Here, swine!"

I did not budge.

"Here, swine!"

"I am a Netherlander."

"Netherlander? Doesn't matter. Have you got papers? All right. You
shan't have those back."

"Then I'll lodge a complaint with the Imperial Governor of Liège, who
gave me the papers."

"Swine!"

Now the major jumped up and shouted at his subordinate that he had to
treat a Netherlander as he ought to be treated.

The major, sitting at another desk, took my further examination upon
himself, apologising for the "noisy" conduct of his subordinate, who
had got somewhat over-excited in consequence of the circumstances.
He found my papers in perfect order, and told me in civil tones that
I should get back my liberty which I had lost in consequence of a
misunderstanding, but that for the present I was not allowed to leave
Bilsen, as I should run the greatest risk of being shot by German or
Belgian patrols, who were hidden along the road. He asked me to call
again the next morning.

I availed myself of his benevolent mood and told him that my
fellow-prisoners were treated very unkindly by his soldiers, and
these people had lost their composure entirely in consequence. A calm
examination, I told him, undoubtedly would give him also the conviction
that these people had only fled into the fields because they were
afraid, but not with any criminal intent. He promised me to conduct the
examination himself, and to be as kind as possible. The next morning I
heard that they had all been released.

I now tried to get something to eat in the town at an hotel.

"Well, what have you got for me to eat?"

"To eat, sir--to eat? A bit of bacon ... that's all."

"Well, that's all right; and what am I going to have with it, bread,
potatoes, or...."

"Bread, potatoes? Nothing. We have nothing."

I went to various other places, but there I could not even get a bit
of bacon. So I made up my mind to starve for the present, and to make
inquiries here and there about families whose acquaintances or friends
had asked me to do so through the editor of _De Tijd_.

Afterwards I sauntered through the very quiet little town, until I
suddenly saw something quite uncommon, namely two civilians who, like
myself, were walking about. When I came near, one of them recited a
rhyme:

    "Ah, there comes Mister Tijd, and he
    Lost like ourselves his liberty!"

I had not the faintest idea who they were, but then they introduced
themselves as van Wersch and Dasoul, both living at the time at
Hasselt. The first had been at Maastricht a couple of days ago and
had seen me there. He told me that that morning he had been "hooked"
and his companion only the evening before. He had come to Bilsen on a
bicycle, and got such a blow on his back from the butt of a German
rifle that the butt was cracked in two although his back was not
injured.

He had been uneasy because he experienced no disagreeable consequences
of that blow, and had therefore consulted the doctor at Bilsen, who
thought that only his excited nerves had enabled him to withstand such
a blow. Both had been locked up a couple of hours and their bicycles
had been taken away, as also their papers. Mr. van Wersch, however,
had an acquaintance at Bilsen with whom he and his companion found
lodgings, and whither he was good enough to take me as well.

After a bed had been promised me, my first request was for something to
eat, for I had not enjoyed anything as yet. But there was nothing left,
absolutely nothing. I scratched my head, and rubbed my empty stomach,
when suddenly I heard a fowl cackling outside. Negotiations about it
were soon finished; my companion was to kill the fowl, whereas I was
to call on Major Krittel and tell him that I liked my enforced stay in
Bilsen very much, but that he ought to see now that I got something to
eat.

I returned with two large round "brown Georges"--soldiers' loaves.

Never did I enjoy a meal so much; but not so the kind people who had
received us so friendly; they could not eat. The terror which reigned
among the population in those days was indescribable. One must have
seen it and gone through it with them, to realise it. They really
feared that at any moment the Germans would drive the population out of
the houses and set the town on fire.

Men and women in the prime of life sat on their chairs, gazing vacantly
at nothing, lacking in the most literal sense of the word the strength
to stand or to walk. When at about six o'clock in the evening the
click-clack of rifle-fire was heard--for a Belgian patrol seemed to
have come near the town,--my hostess and her daughter pressed a couple
of papers against their breast, full of fear, ready to fly, but unable
to walk.

That same afternoon also I made the acquaintance of the editor of a
local weekly, _De Bilsenaar_, which was not allowed to appear during
the occupation of the place by the Germans. He and others had a great
many things to tell me.

Not half of the requisitioned meat was used by the Germans, and the
rest was simply left to rot, whilst the starving people were not
allowed to touch it. Two pigs and a cow were shot in a meadow, but no
part of these animals had been used, the order to bury them being given
when the smell became unendurable. In some places the Germans indulged
in such unspeakably filthy acts, that it is impossible to mention
details.

When the Germans entered Bilsen for the first time, four persons were
shot in front of the town-hall; fifteen holes were still to be seen in
the wall. Amongst these four was also the brother-in-law of the editor
of the _Bilsenaar_. He was dragged out of his house, accused of having
shot, although he and his wife and children were at that moment saying
the rosary. His wife had got up that day for the first time after her
confinement.

The unhappy man asserted in a loud voice that he was innocent, but
got the answer that he would have to prove that later on. But he never
had a chance of doing that. Arriving at the market-place, he and three
others were simply placed against the wall and shot. He could not even
have spiritual assistance.

Frequently Protestant services were held in the market-place, conducted
by a parson, and the invariable beginning and end of that parson's
allocution was: "There is one God; there must also be one Kaiser."

A good many lads had been able to escape from Bilsen and the environs
to Antwerp; in the aggregate, 500 from this district, and more went
every day. They were driven to the Belgian army by all they had seen
and experienced. Often one heard women and girls say: "Oh, if I were a
man, if I were a boy, I should be in the army to-morrow!"

I was sitting comfortably in the home circle of the editor of _De
Bilsenaar_, with father, mother, and daughter. They had one son of
eighteen, who was at the Junior Seminary at Hasselt, and only the first
Sunday in August he had left for Heerenth in order to offer himself
as a missionary aspirant. The next Wednesday the would-be missionary,
an only son, enlisted as a volunteer in the Belgian army.... He was
already the sixteenth of his form of twenty-three boys at the college
at Hasselt.

The father got up and went to a small cupboard from which he took some
papers, and his eyes, and those of his wife and daughter, became moist
at once; letters from their only boy, written on the battle-field! He
read them out with a broken voice, frequently interrupted by sobs. I
said nothing, could not utter a word.

The boy also had been obliged to retire into France, had been
transported from Rheims to Havre, and from there, across the sea,
back to Belgium. "Five times already, my dear parents, I have been in
the fight; I have asked them not to let me wait long for the sixth.
Oh, you cannot imagine how glorious it is to be allowed to fight for
my country! Have confidence in the future, dear parents, and say a
paternoster for me and my comrades and also one for our Fatherland."

Well, I could not keep calm when I heard such things read by a father
from a letter of his only son on the battle-field; that is impossible.

The next morning was Sunday, and the bells summoned the people to
church. But nobody went, nobody dared to appear in the street, although
prayer-book and rosary are always in everybody's hands during these
days. I had decided to go to the second Mass, but as nobody had come
to the first, there was no second. The Dean himself said that the
people were quite right not to come to church. The previous Sunday
the Germans, who had entered Lanaeken suddenly, had posted themselves
in front of the church, where the believers attended Holy Mass, and
ordered the women and children to leave the church, but the men to
stay. When all the women and children had left, the Germans entered
the building and ... found not a single man, for all had left quickly
by the back door. A veritable battue was held in the whole district
for lads and young men, who were all taken away as prisoners by the
Germans, because during the last few days great numbers had escaped to
the north and enlisted as volunteers in the army.

I went to the commander's office, and on the way copied the following
Proclamation:--

    "PROCLAMATION

    "Private motor-cars, motor-bicycles, and bicycles are only allowed
    to move about in the districts occupied by the German army if
    driven by German soldiers, or the chauffeur possesses a licence.
    These licences are only issued by the local commanders, and only in
    urgent cases. The motor-cars, motor-bicycles, and bicycles will be
    seized if this rule is infringed. Anyone who tries to push through
    the German outposts shall be shot at, as also anyone who approaches
    them in such a manner that he seems to be a spy.

    "Should telegraph- or telephone-wires be cut in the neighbourhood
    of towns and villages, these places will be sentenced to pay a
    war-contribution, whether the inhabitants are guilty or not.

                                      "The Governor-General of Belgium.
                                                   BARON VON DER GOLTZ,
                                                      _Field-Marshal_."

At the station Major Krittel was engaged in examining a civilian
and his wife. The man had been found in a field; both shook from
nervous excitement and wept profusely. The major spoke calmly and
encouragingly, and after a short examination both got their liberty.
Major Krittel was also very kind to me again, but asked emphatically
whether I knew that writing false news exposed me to the danger of
capital punishment. I answered that I was firmly convinced of that. He
then gave me another proclamation to read in which this was mentioned,
and I asked and got permission to put the document in my pocket. It
runs as follows:--

                                                              "TONGRES.
                                                            "24.9.1914,

    "PROCLAMATION

    "Several cases which occurred in the Province of Limburg oblige me
    to acquaint the inhabitants of a number of regulations:

    "According to Clause 58, Section 1, of the Military Penal Code,
    sentence of capital punishment for treason will be pronounced
    against those who, intending to assist an enemy army, or to injure
    the German army:

    "1. Commit a punishable offence mentioned in Clause 90 of the
    German Penal Code.

    "2. Injure or make useless roads or telegraphic instruments.

    "3. Serve the enemy as guides in a military undertaking against the
    German allied forces, or mislead the latter when serving them as
    guides.

    "4. Who in whatever way in order to harass or mislead the German
    forces make military or other signals, urge to flee, or prevent the
    reunion of straggling soldiers.

    "5. Who undertake to enter into verbal or written communication
    with persons in the army or the fleet, of the enemy country at war
    with Germany, about matters relating to the war itself.

    "6. Who distribute in the German army hostile incitements or
    communications.

    "7. Who neglect necessary precautions which ought to be taken on
    behalf of the army.

    "8. Liberate prisoners of war.

    "According to Clause 90 of the German Penal Code, sentence of penal
    servitude for life will be pronounced against those:

    "1. Who surrender to the enemy, either German troops or fortified
    bulwarks, trenches or fortified places, or defences, as also parts
    or belongings of the German army.

    "2. Who surrender to the enemy of the German forces defensive
    works, ships or transports of the fleet, public funds, stocks of
    arms, munitions, or other war material, as also bridges, railways,
    telegraphs, or other means of communication; or who destroy them or
    make them useless on behalf of the enemy.

    "3. Supply men to the enemy or entice away others who belong to the
    German army.

    "4. Who serve the enemy as a spy, lodge hostile spies, hide them or
    aid them.

    "And it is also to be noticed that it is forbidden to distribute
    newspapers and other printed matter published in the part of
    Belgium not occupied by German forces. It is forbidden to take
    communications of whatever kind from these parts of Belgium and
    those that are occupied by the German army. These offences will be
    punished with imprisonment. Serious cases, as, for example, any
    attempt to assist the hostile forces, will be followed by sentence
    of death.

                                                              "STERZEL,
                                       _Major and Commanding Officer_."

I had also to promise the major that on my return I should bring with
me a copy of _De Tijd_ in which all I had experienced and seen in
Bilsen was described, and also a box of Netherland cigars, which he
promised to pay for; then I was allowed to go.

As I went a patrol marched out--reinforcements had again come from
Tongres--whose task was to clear the district of the enemy. The patrol
consisted of six Death-head hussars, about forty bicyclists, and the
rest infantry, altogether about four hundred men, who were able to keep
together, because the hussars and the cyclists proceeded very slowly
and cautiously in the direction of Lanaeken. I went with them, chatting
with one of the officers. As soon as they had got to the road, the
greatest caution was observed. The hussars went in front, followed by
some of the infantry, all in loose formation, continually looking about
in all directions, with the finger at the cock of the rifle.

Not a single person was seen on the road, and everything went
well until we got to the village of Veldwezelt. Suddenly, quite
unexpectedly, a violent rifle fire and a continued whistling of bullets
was heard from the neighbourhood of a house close by. Although the
soldiers later on asserted to the contrary, I was sure that the firing
did not come from the house, but from some underwood near by.

After some firing one of the hussars was hit and fell from his horse,
which ran away. A few seconds later another hussar was hit in his arm
and his horse in its hind-part. Rider and horse flew away from the
fire. The Germans had, of course, immediately answered the firing,
and pulled me with them behind the bend of the road, where I lay down
with them flat on the ground. A Belgian soldier who came out of the
shrubbery with three others was shot, but as the firing went on for
some time and the hussars and cyclists began to take to their heels,
some order was given, and the Germans jumped up and ran away in the
direction of Bilsen. I was told to come with them, so I also ran, and
we all arrived at Bilsen out of breath. As soon as they had recovered
their breath they gave vent to their rage.

They yelled and shouted and said that Bilsen and the whole district
must be burned down, that the major was far too kind, that they were
cowardly soldiers who hid themselves in houses and dared not fight
an honest fight in the open, that civilians had also been shooting,
and so on. I pointed out that the firing did not come from the house,
but from the shrubbery near the house; that nobody could have seen a
civilian shooting. As they insisted, I said with a laugh that they had
seen ghosts. That excited them so, that they came on to me in a rage,
and asked whether this was a laughing matter? And they would surely
have used violence had not the sergeant intervened.

I went immediately to the major to give him a detailed report of the
occurrence, and I believe that I may say without boasting that owing
to my intervention Veldwezelt was not burned down, although other
frightful things happened there.

The hussar who was first hit, died later on. The other appeared to be
only slightly wounded in the arm.

Of course I had to remain at Bilsen after this adventure. The major
appeased his men somewhat, mounted a ridiculously small horse, and
marched out at the head of his men. Two hundred men who had just
arrived from Tongres were added as reinforcements to the major's
troops, who had now about six hundred men with him. Thus they went
again to Veldwezelt, but the few Belgians, who were no fools, had left
of course.

Towards evening the major returned with his men, who in loud voices
sounded forth all sorts of patriotic songs, elated because they had
driven away the enemy. As he entered I addressed the major, who with
a grand sweep of his arm called out to me: "You may go now; I have
cleared the whole district."

I was very curious to know what had happened in Veldwezelt. When I came
near the village, I noticed great activity; men, women, and children
were busy with saws and hatchets cutting down all the trees and shrubs
along the road.

Beautiful hedges, which had been grown artificially in fine forms
for years, fell under the blows of the hatchets. The reason? Before
the day was over all hedges, all shrubs, and all trees had to be cut
down, or the village would be set on fire. Still shaking and trembling
in consequence of the terrors they had experienced during the day,
old men, women, and children with red flushed cheeks joined in the
work; they had not even taken time to change their Sunday- for their
working-day clothes.

And if that had been all! But dozens of boys and young men had been
taken to Bilsen as prisoners. There had been a real hunt for all
able-bodied lads who might be of any use in the Belgian army. Women and
old men were compelled by threats to betray the hiding-places of their
sons or husbands, and if one of them was found hidden away under straw
or in barns, he was ill-treated or beaten with rifle-butts. Some fled
to Maastricht, others to the Campine, the northern part of Belgium. I
presume that both groups have at length arrived in Antwerp.

Dr. Beckers, Government veterinary surgeon at Veldwezelt, had also been
taken to Bilsen as a hostage. The Germans asserted that the Belgians in
Lanaeken had taken prisoner a German military veterinary surgeon who
looked after the horses, and now intended to keep Dr. Beckers until the
Belgians should have released the German military veterinary surgeon.

During the occupation a war contribution of 150,000 francs in silver
had been imposed on Bilsen, although there was hardly any silver left
in the place. This punishment was inflicted because Belgian soldiers
had destroyed the railway in two places.

Near Lanaeken I met suddenly a Belgian soldier, who did not trouble me
after I had shown him my papers. I was quite astonished to find that
man there all by himself, whilst so many Germans were only a few miles
away. When I asked whether he knew this, he answered:

"Yes."

"Are you not afraid?"

"No."

"But when the Germans come!"

"Then I shall shoot."

"But that will mean death for yourself."

"What does that matter? What do I care for life? I come from Dinant;
they have murdered my dear parents, burned our house. What good is it
to me to be alive? I requested them to give me this dangerous outpost.
When the Germans come, I'll shoot, and then my comrades at Lanaeken
will be warned. Then I'll kill three or four of them, but after that I
shall be ready to die myself."

The man looked at me with glittering eyes full of the passion of
revenge. I pressed his hand and went on.

Lanaeken seemed to have been reoccupied by the Belgians, after the
occurrences of the previous Sunday. When I entered the place, I found
the greater number of the men round about the station.

The Belgians who had fired at the Germans near Veldwezelt had also come
back there. They were eleven motor-cyclists who had been reconnoitring;
when near Veldwezelt they saw the Germans approach and hid themselves
in the shrubberies, intending to attack them. The only wounded person
they had was only slightly hurt, and within a few days he would be able
to rejoin his comrades.

Mr. van Wersch, whom I mentioned above, and who shared imprisonment
with me at Bilsen, had a rather disagreeable adventure a few days
afterwards, when he had the misfortune of being mistaken for the
war-correspondent of _De Tijd_.

My letter to that paper about what had happened in Bilsen seemed to
have reached the German authorities at that place, and these gentlemen
were not at all pleased with it. When Mr. van Wersch came back to the
place a few days afterwards he was mistaken for myself, and arrested at
once.

After having been searched all over, he was escorted by a sergeant and
two soldiers to Tongres, where they took him to Captain Spuer, the same
fat officer who, so kindly, had called me a "swine."

When they arrived at Tongres, the captain happened to have returned to
Bilsen, whither the prisoner was brought back by the same escort. But
Captain Spuer seemed not to be found there either, in consequence of
which the major allowed Mr. van Wersch at last to go on.

When he passed the village of Veldwezelt he met a motor-car ... in
which was Captain Spuer. He recognised his victim at once, and also
mistook him for the war correspondent of _De Tijd_. Mr. van Wersch
was immediately detained again, and taken to a farm-house in the
neighbourhood, where he was threatened with a revolver, and roared at:
"You are the correspondent of _De Tijd_."

Mr. van Wersch denied this of course, but nevertheless they took him
to Bilsen in the motor-car. There he was searched once more, the
Netherland letters he had with him were taken away, as also 1,800
francs. But when he was released they gave him back the money.

Mr. van Wersch was told that they intended to send him to Tongres, but
after a deliberation between Captain Spuer and Major Krittel, a very
kind man as I have already remarked, he was allowed to stay at Bilsen
until the examination should be over. He was allowed to walk through
the townlet under military escort at first, but later entirely free,
and to sleep at the station under military guard. After another search,
he was at last allowed to leave for Maastricht on Monday morning.




CHAPTER XIV

DURING THE SIEGE OF ANTWERP


MANY days before the Germans marched upon Antwerp I announced the siege
in my paper. In Louvain I had seen all the preparations and also the
arrival of the Austrian 30·5 c.m. which were intended to batter to
ruins the bulwark of the national defence.

As soon as the siege had begun, I tried to join the Germans, viâ
Louvain, and left Maastricht again by motor-car. Only a few miles from
the Netherland frontier I met the first soldiers, Belgians. When they
saw the Orange flag with the word "Nederland," they let us pass without
any trouble. A little farther on the road walked a civilian, who, by
putting up his hands, requested or commanded us to stop. We took the
most prudent part, and did stop. The man asked in bad Dutch to be
allowed to drive on with us to Brussels, but the motor was not going
beyond Tirlemont; outside that place motor-traffic was forbidden. The
stranger got in all the same, in order to have a convenient journey at
least so far.

My new companion tried desperately to speak as good Dutch as possible,
but failed in the most deplorable manner; every time pure German
words came in between. He told a story that he stayed at Maastricht
as a refugee, and now wanted to fetch his children from a girls'
boarding-school at Brussels. I pretended to believe every word, and
after he had forgotten the first story he made up another, saying that
he came from Liège, where some officers who were billeted on him were
kind enough to give him a chance of going to Brussels, to purchase
stock for his business.

When we were stopped by German outposts he put out of the window a
paper at which they just glanced, stood to attention, and said that
all was well. They did not even want to see my papers. In a casual way
I asked what a miraculous sort of paper he had, and then he pretended
that, by the help of those officers who were quartered on him, he had
got a certificate from the Governor of Liège with the order to treat
him with great respect and also to allow him to travel by military
trains if the opportunity happened to offer itself.

In Tongres it was necessary to get a passport signed, and pay three
marks each, and ten marks for the motor. But the office of the
commander was not open before three o'clock in the afternoon, according
to the soldiers who were doing sentry-go in front of the town-hall.
Wait till three o'clock? No fear! My companion showed his miraculous
paper again, and was allowed to go in, but only by himself. I gave
him my papers and those of the chauffeur, and also wanted to give him
sixteen marks, three each for the chauffeur and myself and ten for the
motor, but he said that that was unnecessary. Within twenty minutes
the fellow came back with our verified passports on which the words
"Paid: Free" were written.

A lot of artillery and a great number of soldiers were in the
market-place ready to start. The commander sent one of his officers
to us, who addressed me, examined my papers, and then said that I
had surely met Belgian soldiers on the way. Of course I denied this
emphatically.

"Don't you know then whether there are Belgian military in Vroenhoven?"

"No."

"And in Lanaeken?"

"I know nothing about that."

"Didn't hear either about it?"

"No."

Evidently he seemed to confide in me, and told me that they had been
ordered to clear the north-east corner of Belgium of enemies, and that
by and by they were going to march upon Lanaeken first of all.

When he was gone I gazed for some moments in silence at all these
men and guns, destined to go and destroy by and by the heroes, who
have done so much harm to the Germans, under command of the brave
lieutenant Count de Caritat, burgomaster of Lanaeken. I thought of that
brave Belgian from Dinant whom I met on his solitary outpost outside
Lanaeken, and if I had acted according to my heart's desire, I should
have sneaked away to the threatened point in order to warn those
courageous men of the approaching disaster.

My mysterious companion touched my shoulder and asked whether we
should not go on. "All right," I said, and we got in again.

At Tirlemont they were very busy rebuilding the burnt houses, although
all day long the air shook from the heavy roar of the cannon near
Antwerp.

I sent the motor back to The Netherlands, and went with my companion
to the commander's office, where we got a permit to go on by military
train.

From the side of Brussels many soldiers arrived at the station, who had
all been wounded near Antwerp.

After a long time we were able to enter a train taking numerous new
troops to Antwerp. We occupied a first-class compartment, which looked
like a cattle-truck: pieces of bread, paper, cigar-ends, and tobacco
were lying on the floor and the seats; the ledges of the windows were
full of candle-grease.

We jogged on to Louvain at a rate of not quite three miles an hour.
Here and there we had to wait a half or a whole hour to let trains from
Brussels pass. The reason why the train went so slowly was because a
week before a Belgian patrol had daringly broken through the outposts
and destroyed the railway near Lovenjool. That village was then burned
down completely and the vicar made a prisoner.

Near Louvain the train had to stop for another two hours, before it
was allowed to enter the station, which was quite close by. I thanked
my stars that at last I got rid of my companion, who travelled on to
Brussels, whereas I got out at Louvain. It was too late to be allowed
to walk in the streets, but the commander gave me an escort of two
soldiers, who were to take me to the mission house of the Fathers of
the Sacred Heart.

It was very cold that evening, and the outposts at Heverlee had all
wrapped themselves up in blankets. Once or twice we were stopped, but
the password of my escort removed all difficulties.

"Is it much farther?" one of my armed guides asked.

"No, only a couple of minutes."

"I am thirsty. I should like very much to have a glass of beer."

"Yes," I replied, "but everything is closed."

"Yes, yes, but we shall like it also to-morrow, hi, hi, hi!"

It is as if the curse of drink always pursued the garrison in Louvain,
for when and wherever I met German soldiers in that town, or came into
touch with them, they were always drunk. That evening, also, I was glad
when I arrived at the mission house, tipped the men, and got rid of
them until the next day.

The Fathers were already in bed, but I soon got them out again. Within
ten minutes I was enjoying what, in the circumstances, was a splendid
meal, and the Fathers were absorbed in the daily and illustrated papers
which I had brought for them.

The conditions at Louvain were the same as some weeks ago: hunger
and misery. Some male prisoners had come back, and also over 150
female prisoners, who for more than a month had been in captivity in
the Munster Camp. During the last days a real reign of terror ruled.
Hostages were continually claimed, and nearly always they took
clerics. The week before the people had feared a new destruction. It
was said that there had been shooting again, but happily the inquiry
showed that a German soldier did it, and he was punished. The shot had
been fired in front of the Josephite convent.

       *       *       *       *       *

A remarkable strike had taken place in the Leo XIII Hospital. The head
of this institution, Dr. Tits, also had been taken as a hostage. It
was the most blackguardly act one can think of, to take away the man
who had spent night and day mostly nursing wounded Germans. Dr. Noyons
found it so harsh that he took counsel with the other doctors, and they
decided not to resume work before Dr. Tits came back. This of course
happened immediately.

The man who bears the full responsibility for the destruction of
Louvain, General von Manteuffel, had left already when I visited the
town this time, and nobody has ever been able to find out what became
of him. The latest proclamations were all signed: "By order of the
General Government of Brussels--the Etappe-Commander."

Louvain was of course on tenterhooks about the course of the siege of
Antwerp, but everybody was quite confident that this fortress would
withstand a long, long time, although they saw quite well that the
German attack was very fierce, for the tremendous roar of the cannon
never ceased for a moment.

A walking excursion of one day took me to Brussels. I might have
done it in a few hours less, but I lost my way in the wood-paths near
Brussels, for at a certain moment I read on a finger-post, "Brussels
four miles"; and after walking for a long time, and wondering whether I
should ever finish those four miles, I read suddenly: "Brussels--eight
miles!" That gave me such a shock that once more I had nearly taken the
wrong way.

I put all my hope on a car that loomed up in the distance. It was
assisting in the reprovisioning of Brussels, and only for that reason
had the carman got permission to use it. I signalled to him, and he
stopped--a big lout of a man who evidently had had a drop too much; he
would not allow me to ride on with him, because he preferred to remain
alone on his car than to help a spy. "I am a Belgian, a Belgian, and
not a traitor, not a traitor of my country," he assured me, with a lot
of beery tears. In any case the man meant well, and probably he had
tried to drown his troubles in drink.

In other circumstances I should not have taken so much trouble, but I
was so tired that I gave the man all my papers to make him see that I
was a Netherland journalist. But according to him that didn't matter at
all, because the Netherlanders were quite as dirty as the Germans, for
they had allowed the enemies of Belgium to pass through their country,
and so on. In a torrent of words I told him that there was not a word
of truth in it, and that the Belgian Government would surely lose no
time in declaring the same as soon as the country was free again. At
last I appealed to his heart by relating all the Netherlanders had done
for the Belgians. This had the desired effect, and I was allowed to
drive home with him.

At every inn he felt thirsty, and made me feel quite clearly that I
had every reason to treat him. And every time that we went back to our
seats he said again:

"Yes, but now you see if after all you are a spy, you see, then, you
see, I'll knock you down, you see?"

"Yes, yes, but now listen; I have told you already that...."

"But don't you see if you should, don't you see, you see I am a
patriot."

"Oh, but listen: my papers...."

"Yes, but you see they may be forged, you see. They may shoot me, you
see, but a traitor, you see, no, then I would knock you down, you
see...."

That happened each time that he started again, and I was more tired by
trying to convince this man than if I had walked all the rest of the
way to Brussels. But after all I got there.

There was much more liveliness in the Belgian capital than during my
first visit; it was as if the bombardment of Antwerp had wakened the
people out of their slumber, an apparent slumber only, for no citizens
were ever more faithful to the Belgian cause than those of Brussels.

There was shouting enough in the streets and on the boulevards; here
hawkers tried to sell maps of the Fortress of Antwerp; there women
and girls offered scarf-pins with the portrait of Burgomaster Max.
Everybody had such a pin, and I soon sported one too, for only then did
these lady-sellers leave me alone.

The German proclamations in Brussels were nearly as numerous as the
Max pins. They showered them during the last days on the town, the
one more insolent than the other. After reading those things, a
proclamation by Burgomaster Max affected me beneficially, whenever I
could find one amongst the mass of other bills posted on the walls.
Such a document testified to a grand soul and a firm character, which
vindicated courageously the rights of the oppressed people.

In the streets and in the cafés I saw a great many marines who had
taken part in the fights near Antwerp and were sent to Brussels for a
few days' rest. It was remarkable that so many of them who had only
lately looked death in the face, thought that they could not amuse
themselves better than by mixing with girls of the worst description.
Although I cannot, of course, always believe what soldiers, fresh back
from a fight, assert in their over-excited condition, I assumed that I
might conclude that things went badly with the defence of Antwerp.

A trip from Brussels to the scene of the fight convinced me still
more. I passed some time with the artillery which had already silenced
Waelhem, and was now used against the other defences. The sight of such
an action was less interesting than one might think, as I could not get
to the places where the infantry were storming. Only the thunder of
all these guns overwhelmed and gave me an idea of the terror that was
created.

From Antwerp, which I could see clearly from the positions of the
artillery near Waelhem, high columns of smoke rose up from the Belgian
artillery, which was harassing the German positions.

Here I also saw in action one of the 30·5 cm. Austrian howitzers
mentioned before. The clumsy monster was constantly being shunted on
a rail forward and backward, and at long intervals sent a gigantic
projectile to the threatened quarters. The sound was terrific, and the
pressure of the air made people at a great distance tremble on the
ground. The Austrian artillerists were still equipped as if they had to
fight in a rough, mountainous country; the soles of their shoes were
all over covered with hobnails.

The Red Cross Service was well arranged, the wounded were transported
regularly, a large number of motor-cars being used.

All soldiers and officers took the siege of the great fortress calmly,
convinced that at the most it would be able to hold out for very few
days. Reliable information soon gave me the same impression, although
I had wished it might have been quite different. When I left the scene
of the fight all the forts from Waelhem to St. Cathérine-Waver had been
silenced and in the hands of the Germans, who would soon attack the
inner circle of forts.

In Brussels the people seemed to be of a different opinion. German
reports about successes obtained were simply not believed, and people
persisted in their opinion that Antwerp would be invincible. The more
reports of victories the Germans posted on the walls, the more excited
people became, and palmed off upon each other all sorts of victories
of the Allies.

At the Café Quatre Bras, near Tervueren, the innkeeper told me that the
Germans had asked the Netherland Government for permission to place a
42 cm. on Netherland territory in order to be able to shell Antwerp
also from that side, but that the Netherland Government had refused.
I tried as hard as possible to explain to the man that all stories of
such requests were mere gossip. When more and more people entered the
café I withdrew into a corner. They were all very excited, and some of
them had drunk more than was good for them. They related with violent
gesticulations that the Allies had surrounded Brussels and might be
expected to enter the town at any moment, that all was over with the
Germans, and so on. Shouts of "Vive la Belgique!" and "Vive notre roi!"
sounded until suddenly I drew their attention. They looked me up and
down critically, and one of them asked:

"Who are you?"

"A Netherland journalist, who is trying to get news for his paper."

"What, a Netherlander!--a Netherlander! All traitors! You are helping
the Germans, but we are not afraid of either German or Netherlander."

They crowded threateningly round me, getting more and more excited.

I saw that I must act, and jumped on a chair.

"What," I exclaimed, "you dare to say that the Netherlanders act with
the Germans? No, shall I tell you something? The Germans have asked
the Netherland Government for permission to place a 42 cm. gun on
their territory to shell Antwerp from that side, but the Netherland
Government have refused."

"Lies, gossip."

"Lies, gossip? Ask the proprietor."

"Yes, men, what the gentleman says is true."

The rest was lost to me, for the men crowded round the innkeeper,
who now aired his knowledge about the occurrence and evidently spoke
with true conviction. At the end of the conversation they took their
tankards from the bar, and shouted and cried: "Ah, well, if that is so,
vive la Hollande! vive la Belgique! vive notre roi!" Suddenly we were
the best of friends.

In Louvain people would not believe that Antwerp was on the point of
surrendering, and persisted in the opinion that the fortress would hold
out much longer, and was in a better position than ever before.

The German officers at the commander's office were elated in
consequence of the reports received, and also told me that Antwerp
would not be able to hold out for more than two days. They also tried
to explain this to the people in the hall who were waiting for their
passports. I followed the conversation, but not very closely, and one
of the officers explained on a map what he asserted. Willy-nilly,
because they had to get their passports, the waiting people listened to
him. Suddenly I heard him say: "And after all we might have surrounded
Antwerp also on the north by crossing Netherland territory, as we did
when we invaded Belgium."

Those words gave me a shock, for I had heard that German officers
always tried to encourage the Belgians in their wrong opinion about the
alleged violation of Netherland neutrality, but I had not been able to
believe it. With an innocent face I asked the officer:

"Where did the Germans cross Netherland territory?"

"Near Maastricht. You know where Maastricht is?"

And he summoned me to look at the map, where he pointed out to me where
Maastricht was.

"Hullo!" I said, "but in those days I was in and about Maastricht, but
I never noticed anything of it."

"And yet it is so. Are you perhaps a Netherlander?"

"Oh yes, I am a Netherland journalist."

"Is that so? I beg your pardon, but won't you come with me? I suppose
that you want a passport. I will take you to the commander."

He was quite upset, and evidently thought that the best plan was to
muzzle me by taking me away from the others as quickly as possible.

I asked and got the commander's permission to travel to Liège by
military train, and from there to The Netherlands, not only for
myself, but also for a Netherland girl of nine years, whose parents in
Amsterdam had repeatedly and persistently asked me to see whether there
would be any possibility of letting their little girl come back from a
Louvain boarding-school. The Sisters with whom she was let her go with
me when I showed them a letter from her father. That child had already
seen a good deal! The Sisters had fled with all the children at the
time of the conflagration, and hidden themselves for days in a farm in
the neighbourhood.

During the last days hundreds of lads had left Louvain for The
Netherlands, and the migration went on throughout the whole occupied
part of Belgium. It was the exodus of the levies of 1914 and 1915,
who had been called up, and many of whom had been sent to Germany as
prisoners. The Germans themselves had not a little furthered the flight
of these crowds; by proclamations they had warned the lads not to try
to escape, for otherwise all of the levies of '14 and '15 would be
taken prisoners, and the parents of the fugitives would be punished. At
Heverlee and Louvain the lads of both levies had to present themselves
every Friday at this station. The consequence was that the following
Friday not one single boy of those levies was to be found in either
place.

No more wounded were taken to the hospitals of Louvain, as it had
been decided to send them straight on to Germany for the present; yet
there were many wounded men who were being nursed there already, and
the doctors had their hands full attending to the wounded who passed
the town. Dr. Noyons told me that the previous Sunday a train with 600
wounded had arrived from Northern France, and he and his assistants had
been requested "just" to dress the wounds again of some of them. The
condition of these unfortunate men must have been awful; not one had
a dressing less than eight days old. Most of them had had it on much
longer, and then these were merely emergency dressings. They were laid
on straw in cattle trucks, many of them even in filth, and infection
had worsened their condition to a great extent. Dr. Noyons and his
colleagues tried to give the poor fellows as much relief as possible,
but as a matter of course they could not do very much during a short
stay at a station.

The general condition of the town was not calmer during these last
days. New hostages were taken continually, and generally, as before,
they were clerics, in consequence of which the religious services were
in a continual muddle, and sometimes on Sundays no Holy Mass could
be said. Burgomaster Nerinx had now posted proclamations in which he
called for volunteers to serve as temporary hostages, instead of the
priests, during the hours of religious service. As if it were office
work they mentioned: "The service begins in the afternoon at ...
o'clock and will end after ... days at ... o'clock."

It was self-evident that very few were keen to offer themselves as
temporary substitutes for the clerics.

I have, happily, not seen much of the distressing flight of the Antwerp
population, as I happened to be at Liège when the fortress fell into
German hands. I went to Zundert viâ Maastricht and Breda, in order
to go to the conquered fortress from that Netherland frontier-town,
north-east of Antwerp.

A good many refugees were on their way to The Netherlands, but the
bulk of the crowd had passed before my visit along the long road which
I walked now in the opposite direction. I did not arrive in Antwerp
before nightfall and was then very tired. The town was dark, dismal,
and deserted, and only German soldiers went about in the streets,
apparently looking in vain for a shop or café where they might find
some diversion. I myself, exhausted by a walk of twenty-five miles,
sauntered along, constantly looking for some place or other to pass the
night. Not a shop or hotel was open, and yet my stomach was craving for
food, my body for rest. At last I met a policeman and told him of my
difficulty.

"Yes, sir," he answered, "that will be difficult enough. Everybody has
fled, even my own wife and children. I remained because I thought it
was my duty, and now I have been tramping through the streets already
for over twenty-four hours, without being relieved. It seems that by
far the greater number of my colleagues fled also."

"Don't you think you could find me some hotel, or private people who
might put me up?"

"I am very much afraid I shan't be able, but come along, and we'll try
together."

So we went from street to street, without any result. He rang the bell
at many houses where he knew that acquaintances lived, but always in
vain, and at last the kind man had to give it up.

I went on by myself, and arrived at last in a street where I noticed a
light in a house. When I came near, I stood opposite a small café, with
"Lodgings" over the door. I was hardly able to go on, and did not care
whether it was "lodgings" or "hotel," if I could only get in somewhere.

But I did not stop long, for after a good look round it seemed
the best to try and get away as quickly as possible, and in that
I succeeded. One understands, however, that it was a terrific
disappointment for a man so tired to leave again after thinking that he
had at last found a place for rest. At length I found an hotel near the
Central Station.

Antwerp had suffered from the horror of war. The bombardment had
destroyed many beautiful quarters almost entirely, and even damaged
badly a number of hospitals. Of course the loss of many lives had to be
deplored.

The next day I had the pleasure of an interview with Cardinal Mercier,
whose residence in Antwerp I had been able to find out at last. A
wealthy lady had offered his Eminence her grand house. In one of the
rooms I waited for the arrival of the cardinal, the Metropolitan of the
Belgian Church Provinces, who, both as a prelate and a patriot, had
been tried so sorely in this war, which ravaged both his university
town and his episcopal town. Although he was exceedingly busy, his
Eminence had the kindness to grant me an audience.

As I was still musing about the tragedy of this venerable personality
in these hard days of war, the door was opened suddenly and his spare
figure stood before me. It was a moment full of emotion, and perhaps I
might not have recovered myself so quickly if the kind prelate had not
met me with so much kindness.

After his Eminence had allowed me to kiss his ring, he asked me to
sit down. I had now a good opportunity to notice how grief dwelt on
his entirely spiritualised face, in its frame of white hair. But his
extraordinary kindness in intercourse did not leave him for one moment.

In connection with the summons, which had been sent in the name of the
archdiocese to _De Tijd_, and had been proclaimed in all the churches
of Antwerp in the morning, his Eminence insisted that it should be
printed in its entirety, as very many priests had taken refuge in The
Netherlands, whose help was pressingly wanted in the arch-diocese in
many of the parishes.

And he went on to say that he desired especially, most fervently the
return of the fled population.

"Really, in all sincerity," he said, "no danger need be feared. I
should be very grateful if the newspapers in The Netherlands would draw
attention to the following promises which the German authorities gave
me, and authorised me to make in their name:--

"1. The young men need not fear that they will be taken to Germany in
order to serve in the German army, or be compelled to do any work.

"2. Should the police regulations be infringed anywhere by some
individuals, the authorities will find the guilty parties and punish
them, without attributing the guilt to the entire population.

"3. The German and Belgian authorities will do everything in their
power to prevent scarcity of food."

"Your Eminence may permit me to remark that the second clause
especially is very important and much more comforting than a previous
declaration of the Imperial Governor, that owing to occasional
mistakes he cannot prevent the innocent population from having to
suffer with those who are guilty. May I ask, has this favourable result
been obtained by your personal intervention?"

"That is to say ... yes. I have suggested these measures and they have
been consented to. I hope that they may induce all the refugees in
The Netherlands to return at once. A press bureau in your country has
circulated the report that I too had planned to fly. There was no truth
in it at all. It was my duty not to leave my people, is not that so?
The shepherd must stay with his sheep, the vicars must do the same, and
those who went away must therefore come back."

"Your Eminence visited Malines last Tuesday, I have been told. I may
perhaps ask how you found the condition of the cathedral and the town?"

The cardinal's face was overclouded suddenly, and quietly he answered:

"Pardon me, it is perhaps better not to say a word about that for the
moment. We are living through difficult times."

I understood and respected the restraint of the Belgian primate, who
went on then:

"Tuesday of next week I hope to be at Malines again, and on the 20th
of this month the administrative service of the archdiocese will be
reinstalled."

"Then you will stay again at the episcopal palace, your Eminence?"

"Yes, certainly. It will take time of course, but the damage done to
the St. Rombout church and the palace is not irreparable; the church
has suffered very much, the spire is less damaged."

"Much will be needed to repair what has been damaged in this
unfortunate country."

"Yes, yes. An immense amount will be necessary. We are about to form
committees; but so much is needed. In England they are also forming
committees, and I have received money already from England, Scotland,
and Ireland, and The Netherlands...."

For a moment he gave way to emotion. He hesitated for a few seconds,
and I saw tears in his eyes. He then went on with a trembling voice:

"The Netherlands is a generous country. How grateful, how immensely
grateful am I to the Netherland people for what they have done for poor
refugees. I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude. I have received
reports from priests who came back, and I am deeply moved by them. They
told me how at Roosendaal the Netherland soldiers gave all their bread
to the refugees, knowing well that for some time they themselves would
not get any other. No! I can never be sufficiently grateful for such
sacrifices. And Catholics and non-Catholics all joined in it. That is
beautiful, very, very beautiful."

"Your Eminence, what The Netherlands did for the poor Belgians came
from the heart of the people, and I know for certain that the Catholics
will be eager to contribute to the rebuilding of the destroyed churches
and houses."

"The Netherlands has done already so much, but if it would come to the
assistance of our unfortunate people also in this way it would greatly
gladden the archiepiscopal government, who will be only too happy to
accept gifts in these difficult times; and perhaps the Right Reverend
Netherland bishops may be willing to send the gifts for this purpose
to us. We might then distribute those gifts among the parishes in the
country which have suffered most."

"Well, in any case, your Eminence, I promise to bring it to the
knowledge of the Catholics in The Netherlands, and you may rely upon
their readiness. But now I will not take more of your valuable time,
which you give so zealously to the poor and the unfortunate. I thank
you very much for having granted me this audience."

"It was in the interests of our suffering country, and we are those who
ought to be grateful. May I insist once more that you ask our refugees
to come back to Antwerp and don't omit to state the three favourable
regulations...."

His Eminence then got up, kindly offered me his hand, the ring on which
I kissed, and escorted me to the door in the amiable, simple way of
which I shall retain the memory for ever.

I can see now once more how little Germans care about the given word.
They asked and obtained from Cardinal Mercier his co-operation to
incite the population to return, but the cardinal, always anxious to
safeguard his compatriots, made conditions to which they consented.

The first of them was that no young man should be taken to Germany, or
compelled to work. Now how many lads are not already in Germany, how
many have not been compelled, especially in both the Flanders, to do
work for the Germans? And were not loyal people who refused to do it
imprisoned? Yes! Did not these violators of law and right proclaim that
all appeal to international agreements would be useless? "We shall no
longer punish a whole population for the deeds of individuals," they
also promised Cardinal Mercier. But many communities have had fines and
taxes imposed upon them in consequence of the offence of one individual.

And although they also promised to do everything in their power
to prevent lack of food in Belgium, they have bled to death the
unfortunate country by continuous impositions and taxes, and thrown
many into poverty and misery.

Yes, in the most scandalous manner they have violated the promises
which the Germans gave Cardinal Mercier. But what signifies a word if
treaties are only "scraps of paper?"




CHAPTER XV

THE ILL-TREATMENT OF BRITISH WOUNDED


I RETURNED from Louvain by military train. This one had had a most
adventurous journey before it reached Louvain. It had left Cambrai in
North France three days before, always going slowly and making long
stops, to spare the seriously wounded at least a little. I estimated
that in my train over 2,000 wounded had been loaded in a long, dismal
procession of wagons. Most of them had not had their bandages renewed
for a fortnight, and were still wearing the first emergency dressing;
all came from the neighbourhood of Arras.

A little to the north of this town many had been lying wounded in the
trenches for over eight days, without being able to get their wounds
bandaged. They had to admit the success of the French field artillery,
which produced a most serious effect.

The Germans all agreed that their right wing lacked artillery. The
German soldiers who fell there were all killed in their trenches by the
falling bombs, there was not sufficient field artillery to answer this
murderous fire efficiently, and they could not do anything with their
rifles against the invisible enemy. The artillery fire of the French
was most serious from the 1st to the 4th of October, and during those
days the German trenches must have been a real hell. On October 4th a
general "sauve qui peut" began from the trenches.

But the shell-fire of the French overtook them then, as they were
retreating, while many others were killed by bombs from French
aeroplanes, which were in action in great numbers. The retreat
had not stopped before the Germans arrived in Cambray, where the
thousands of wounded could at last be put in long trains and sent to
Aix-la-Chapelle. A great many bombs from aeroplanes also hit these
trains and killed a great many; my own train was everywhere pierced by
fragments of those bombs. Within the carriages it was unendurable; the
wounded men and their malodorous bandages had occupied them such a long
time that the atmosphere was simply insupportable. Happily there was
a corridor, where I stood all the time, with the little girl, in the
company of some German military men who were sent home, not on account
of wounds, but because of internal complaints.

Very slowly the huge monster sauntered along, stopping and waiting
everywhere to allow long trains with fresh troops to pass. These came
straight from Germany, with the youngest levies and volunteers who had
just finished their drill. These had decorated their trains all over
with green boughs and outside painted all sorts of caricatures, from
which especially King George had to suffer much. Then one read "To
Paris, to England," and similar hopeful devices.

When their train approached ours they looked out of the windows, or
opened the doors, and waved and greeted and shouted at the top of their
voices.

But as soon as these "tender-foots" came alongside our train and
were not met with the same impetuous enthusiasm as they displayed
themselves, but, on the contrary, saw sick, discouraged, exhausted
faces gazing at them distressedly, their boisterousness suddenly
extinguished, and a nervous, terrified expression pursed up their
mouths. And the trains were already at some distance from each other
before the young soldiers remembered that they ought to shout and to
wave to those who had already done so much for the Fatherland.

We arrived at Landen, a place between Tirlemont and Waremme, where
we had a stop of forty minutes, in order to feed the wounded. Soup
was served from large washing-tubs, and I and my small companion were
also offered some of this soldiers' food. When I had finished my meal,
and walked up and down the platform in order to stretch my legs, my
attention was drawn to an uproar in front of one of the last wagons. I
went there, and shall not forget what I saw as long as I live; I wish
that I had never seen it.

Amongst some Frenchmen, three British soldiers, seriously wounded,
were lying on some straw. They looked distressed, and I thought that
their condition was critical. I was told that these men had not had
any food for five days, and now there stood in front of the open wagon
doors two to three hundred German soldiers, partly slightly wounded,
who were well able to walk, partly German soldiers of the Landen
garrison, who had been told off for distributing the soup. These two to
three hundred men raged and jeered at those three unfortunate, heavily
wounded British soldiers, who had not eaten for five days, and lay
groaning helplessly on some dirty straw in a cattle-truck. The steaming
tubs with hot soup were shown them, and these Germans shouted at them:
"You want to eat, swine, swine; you ought to be killed! Beat them to
death!--beat them to death! Here, that's what you ought to get!"

As they spoke these last words they aimed their rifles at the
unfortunate, bleeding, helpless, and hungry creatures. Others spat on
their clothes and in their faces, and the enraged Germans foamed at the
mouth.

With weak eyes, eyes telling of approaching death, one of them gazed
at these cruel torturers, or looked hungrily at the steaming soup; the
two others had turned their heads on one side and closed their eyes.
But at last also the third turned off his head and closed his eyes,
sighing and groaning. In the meantime the Germans went on threatening
them, blurting out all sorts of filthy abuse, spitting or threatening
them with their rifles, while others were laughing and enjoying the
helplessness of those three.

I stood still, dumb, aghast, unable to utter a word. Then I went to a
sergeant who was also looking on and laughing; and, trembling all over,
I said:

"What is happening here is frightful; those men are also human beings,
who had to do their duty as much as you!"

I couldn't say more, my voice stuck in my throat.

And what was his answer?

"What? Do their duty? No, they are swine--paid swine; they get money
for their dirty work, the swine!"

I did not answer. I could not. Silently I looked a little longer at
the beastly scene, only sorry that I was not a giant who, with one
strong hand, might restrain the roughs, and refresh with the other the
burning, feverish lips of the wretched men.

What distressed me most was that among those two to three hundred
soldiers in front of that open cattle-truck was not one man who wanted
to take the part of these unfortunate British; no, not one!

When I reported the occurrence in _De Tijd_, I was fully conscious of
the frightful accusation implied by my information; but I am prepared
to confirm with the most sacred oaths that nothing in this accusation
is untrue or exaggerated.

I was not afraid of an inquiry, but asked for it as a matter of fact,
by writing in my report:--

    "And if the German authorities intend to institute a serious and
    impartial inquiry, then I give them the following particulars:

    "It happened at Landen on Friday, October 9th, in the train with
    wounded which arrived there from Brussels at about noon, when food
    was being distributed."

The German authorities have indeed made inquiries about the matter; I
shall deal with that in the next chapter.

What happened at Landen made a very deep impression upon me; it
shocked me more than all the terrible things which I had seen during
the war and all the dangers which I went through. When the train went
on again, and the soldiers began to speak to me once more, I was unable
to utter a word and sat there musing.

Before I witnessed this terrible event at Landen some Germans in the
train had already told me that they simply killed the British whom they
made prisoners. Others assured me that such a thing did not happen in
their division, but one asserted that by his company alone already
twenty-six had been killed. I did not believe them then, and thought
that they were better than they made themselves out, but after having
witnessed that scene at Landen ...!

One hour before the arrival at Liège the engine of our train dashed
into another, and got so badly damaged that all the water from our
engine ran away. This caused a delay of another two hours, so that we
did not arrive at Liège before dusk, and could not think of reaching
The Netherlands that day.

I took the little Amsterdam girl to my niece in the convent of the
Sisters of Mercy, and went to an hotel myself. A German newspaper,
bought at a bookstall, gave in gigantic type the information that
Antwerp might fall at any moment, and a recently posted bulletin
brought the feared-for news. But the people of Liège could not, and
would not believe it.

I had expected it and believed the reports, but it hurt all the same. I
had had intercourse with German soldiers almost exclusively; but that
gave me a much better opportunity for observing their conduct, which
roused in me a deep sympathy for the poor, oppressed Belgian people.
That was why I was so sorry to hear of the fall of Antwerp, although
I was not discouraged. Right would triumph, and the day come when the
Belgian nation would shake off the foreign yoke of tyranny, and repair
in peace and prosperity, under the sagacious rule of their king, what
barbarians destroyed and pulled down.

The next day I got to The Netherlands with my small protégée, after
a tiring walk from Herstal to Eysden, where we could take the train
to Maastricht. Here the father of the little girl came to meet his
daughter, and took her to Amsterdam, to her "Mummy," of whom she had
been speaking during the whole journey with so much longing.

Only now did I hear what had happened to the village of Lanaeken after
I had seen the German preparations in Tongres for action against the
little Belgian army that was still about in the north-eastern part
of the country. The greater part of Lanaeken had been destroyed by
shelling, and of course a great many innocent victims had fallen in
consequence.

By destroying the life and possessions of peaceful civilians the
Germans--who always boast so much about their military honour--gave
unconscious expression to their awe of the fearless heroes who still
stood their ground to the north of Liège, whilst the Germans were still
besieging Antwerp.

       *       *       *       *       *

I have mentioned already that the German authorities had ordered a
so-called inquiry about what happened at Landen. As the result of
this inquiry the press of all neutral countries had the following two
official communications wired to them:--

    "_Berlin, November 10th._ (E. B.).--A correspondent of _De Tijd_
    in Amsterdam has told a number of details about the so-called bad
    treatment of British wounded at the station of Landen, according
    to which the British had been left without food or drink, had
    been spit in their faces, and our soldiers were alleged to have
    aimed their rifles at them. The German Government had instituted
    a thorough inquiry into this matter and publish the result: 'The
    entire allegation of the correspondent is untrue. None of the
    details is covered by the facts. The British have not been beaten
    nor pushed nor spit at, but on the contrary warm food was offered
    them, which was accepted by all except two. Store-inspector Huebner
    and the landwehr-soldier Krueger have testified to this."

    "_Berlin, November 10th._ (W. B.) Official.--The _Norddeutsche
    Allgemeine Zeitung_ writes: 'The daily newspaper, _De Tijd_,
    issued at Amsterdam, published on October 16th a report from a
    war correspondent at Maastricht, in which he asserted that on
    October 9th a train in which more than two thousand wounded were
    transported, arrived at the station at Landen in Belgium between
    Tirlemont and Waremme. Here it was said that a stop had taken place
    of forty minutes in which to provide the wounded with food. Walking
    up and down the platform the reporter pretends to have seen two
    to three hundred German soldiers, slightly wounded men and men of
    the garrison of Landen, furiously abuse three seriously wounded
    British, who were lying in one of the last carriages of the train.
    They showed mugs full of steaming soup to the hungry British, whom
    they left lying there miserable from starvation. They were also
    said to have aimed their rifles at them, laughing roughly, and to
    have spit on them.

    "'These allegations of the reporter of _De Tijd_ caused the
    authorities to institute inquiries, and the following is now stated
    with regard to the alleged events:

    "'On October 9th no train with two thousand wounded arrived at
    the station of Landen, but only small transports whose number can
    be checked accurately by the lists of wounded. Rioting by two to
    three hundred soldiers near a carriage could not take place, as the
    station guard was instructed to keep free a path along the train.
    There is, moreover, always an officer of the station-guard present,
    when a train with wounded leaves. It is impossible that the
    soldiers could have aimed their rifles at the British, as the men
    who get their food in the dining-hall, as also the serving military
    personnel, are always unarmed. Other soldiers are not admitted to
    the station. The British have neither been beaten, nor stabbed, nor
    spit at; on the contrary plates full of hot soup have been offered
    them which were refused by two of them. This has been confirmed by
    the declarations of people who were present.'"

Of course I did not withhold my answer, pilloried the hardly serious
inquiry of the Germans, and published immediately an extensive
contradiction in _De Tijd_. I quote the following from it:--

    "Only about a month after the publication of my story about what
    happened at Landen, the German Government and military authorities
    considered that the time had come to contradict it, after ordering
    an inquiry which in reality cannot be called an inquiry at all.
    From their communiqués it is clear that some soldiers were heard
    who probably were privy to the act, and in any case benefited by
    a denial of the villainy committed at Landen. That is to say, men
    who were counsel in their own cause, and who were believed the
    sooner because their declarations were desirable for the support of
    German credit. But it does not appear from these communiqués that
    the German authorities also examined the wounded who were present,
    nor the two Netherlanders who travelled by that train: the young
    Miss de Bruin, from Amsterdam, and the present writer, as also
    the civilian witnesses at Landen. In opposition to the evidence
    of Stores-inspector Huebner and the landwehr-soldier Krueger, of
    which evidence it has not been stated that they gave it on oath, I
    declare myself prepared and willing, if a complete and impartial
    inquiry be instituted, to declare upon oath either to a properly
    qualified committee in The Netherlands or in Germany, or to a
    thereto-appointed arbiter, the following:

    "'1. On Friday, the ninth of October, at noon, I stopped at Landen
    about forty minutes after arriving from Louvain in a terribly long
    train of passenger carriages and goods vans, with approximately two
    thousand wounded. (This estimate may be wrong to the extent of a
    couple of hundred, but that does not matter.) During this time the
    wounded were fed.

    "'I saw how two to three hundred German soldiers, part of them
    slightly wounded, who were well able to walk, partly soldiers of
    the Landen garrison, who crowded about the open doors of one of the
    last wagons, raging and jeering against three seriously wounded
    British soldiers, about whom their French fellow-passengers told me
    that they had had nothing to eat for five days. The wounded were
    called "swine," were spit at, and some rifles were aimed at them.
    When I told a sergeant that it was a disgusting scene, he answered:
    "These British swine, they get paid for their filthy work." He
    alluded to the pay which the British volunteers receive because
    they enlist as mercenaries, Britain having no compulsory general
    military service. Before I witnessed this awful thing at Landen,
    Germans in the train had already told me that they simply killed
    any British whom they made prisoners. Others said that such a thing
    did not happen in their division, but one man contended that by his
    company already twenty-six had been killed. I did not believe them,
    and thought that they were better than they pretended to be.

    "'2. The soup had been offered to the British, but two refused to
    take it, says the German Government. Yes, it was offered these
    wretched people, but, as I have said already, the German soldiers
    kept the steaming soup before them, shouting at them: "You want to
    eat, you swine!--you swine! you ought to be killed! This is what
    you may have!" And as they said the latter they aimed their rifles
    at the unfortunate men, whilst others who were not armed lifted up
    their fists and threatened them, or spat at them.

    "'In my report about the occurrence I had not even exposed in all
    its harshness the treatment dealt out to the French soldiers. For
    they too were not offered plates of soup, but only the mugs were
    filled, forming part of their equipment. And there were many who
    put out these mugs as if supplicating to have them filled once
    more; as that was not done they constantly put the empty mug to
    their mouth to try and lick off any remaining drops that might have
    stuck to its side. Some Germans said: "Yes, the French may have
    something, for they are soldiers, but those three there, well, they
    are paid swine."

    "'3. I published the facts and insisted upon an impartial inquiry,
    in order to prevent, if possible, that only guilty soldiers should
    be heard should a complaint about the occurrence be lodged with the
    highest military authority.

    "'Instead of facing such an impartial inquiry with an examination
    of all available witnesses and punishment of the guilty, the German
    government finds the courage only to call me, a month after the
    event, "a liar," and the whole story a fairy-tale!

    "'If the German government had come somewhat earlier with their
    contradiction, it might have been possible to cite another witness,
    for--I have not reported that at first--among those who were
    present there was a civilian, an inhabitant of Landen, who also
    looked with anger at the cruel scene, and expressed his indignation
    when he could no longer restrain himself. But then there was a
    general outcry of:

    "'"What is this civilian doing here?" The young man could not
    explain his presence satisfactorily, and a couple of soldiers got
    hold of him, and, in the literal sense of the word, threw him away.
    When he waited at a short distance a little longer, with an angry
    face, one of the soldiers ran at him, threatening him with his
    bayonet. I might have been able to find that young man at the time,
    but now, a month later, this will be much more difficult. There
    was also another group of civilians packed as densely as herrings
    in a cattle-truck on another line; they must have seen the beastly
    occurrence as well.

    "'I might quote another small detail. Before the train arrived
    at Landen I had had a very pleasant chat in the corridor with a
    German soldier, who seemed tolerably humane and civilised, even
    in his talk. After the departure from Landen I again got into
    conversation with him, and did not fail to express my indignation;
    and then he gave me the following reply: "Oh well, one must
    think of the position of our soldiers, who have been for days
    in the trenches under the murderous fire of the enemy. Later on
    they will themselves repent for what has happened." Perhaps the
    German government may be able to discover who that soldier is, if
    I add that he went home for good because he was suffering from
    heart-disease.

    "'And then there is something else. The brakesman of the wagon
    in which I travelled was a man who had enlisted only a couple of
    weeks ago as a volunteer for the service on the railways, and,
    if I remember correctly, hailed from Hamburg. He belonged to a
    Trades Union which had already once made a trip to Amsterdam and
    Rotterdam, and was for instance able to tell me that Krasnapolsky
    at Amsterdam was a large hotel. I also spoke to that man about what
    had happened, because I thought I had noticed that he was more
    human, but he too gave me the cynical answer: "Oh well, the French
    may have something to eat, they fight also for their country,
    but not those British, they only fight because that is their
    profession."

    "'4. With regard to the arms of the German soldiers, it is true
    that the wounded men had none with them, but I have distinctly
    stated that the crowd consisted of soldiers who belonged to the
    lightly wounded and of soldiers belonging to the Landen garrison.
    These latter had been told off to guard the station and the
    platforms and maintain order. It is possible that they had also to
    prevent the wounded from moving about on the platforms, but in that
    case they did not stick to their task, because everybody was free
    to go where he liked, and I myself did the same. That these guards
    did not guard anything at all at the moment is proved by the fact
    that the above-mentioned civilian was able to come near the riot,
    although he had to pass a number of platforms. That the soldiers
    belonged to the Landen garrison and had to do sentry-go is proved
    by the fact that they had their bayonets on their rifles.

    "'Finally, the contention that no riot could have taken place
    because the soldiers were fed in the dining-hall is entirely
    incorrect. That dining-hall was nothing but a shed entirely open
    at the front, in which there were a few seats. There the slightly
    wounded soldiers were fed first, and when they had supplied
    those, food was taken to the seriously wounded, who had to stop
    in the train, as also to myself and my little companion. The
    slightly wounded and the soldiers of the guard walked off with
    the distributors of the soup along the train in order to have a
    chat with their comrades in it. In that way they also came to the
    British when the wagon-door had been opened. It will be evident
    that I observed closely and retained in my memory all that had
    happened there and in the neighbourhood.

    "'5. My pertinent declarations are now opposed by the German
    official contradiction; but how weak is the argument! I have
    already pointed out that only comrades of the accused men have
    been heard, but not the accuser, nor, as is evident, the victims,
    nor other witnesses. There is more: "Crowding of two to three
    hundred soldiers near a wagon cannot occur"--thus says the
    communiqué--"because the station-guard's duty is to keep free the
    path along the train." Does anyone understand the weakness of this
    contradiction? It is as if one should say: "It is impossible that
    anything has been stolen in a town because it is the duty of the
    police to guard it." "Moreover there is also always an officer of
    the station-guard present at the departure of a train of wounded,"
    the communiqué proceeds. But again I ask: What does this prove? It
    is a fact that this officer, if he was present, did not prevent
    what happened. "It is impossible that the soldiers aimed their
    rifles at the British, because the men who get their food in the
    dining-hall, and those of the military who distribute it, are
    always unarmed; no other soldiers are admitted to the station."
    I see that the German government simply quote the military
    regulations, and from them determine the facts. They cannot realise
    that it might be possible for their regulations not to be obeyed
    always.

    "'6. I am convinced that on the whole the treatment of the wounded
    was generous and exemplary. But it is also a fact that the terrible
    hatred of the Germans against the British, encouraged by their
    military authorities (one has to think of the proclamation of
    Prince Rupert of Bavaria) and their scandalous comic papers, which
    disgust even decent Germans, induce to extravagances such as I
    witnessed at Landen. Did not a German officer explain to an editor
    of the _Algemeen Handelsolad_ (evening issue of October 18th): "The
    unwritten order is to make everywhere as many French and as few
    English prisoners as possible; we don't try to wound, but to kill
    the British."'"

I think that my answer left nothing to be desired for plainness,
and Germany cannot have derived much pleasure from its official
contradiction. Moreover, the editor of _De Tijd_ had also made
inquiries from the little girl whom I escorted from Louvain on the day
of the occurrence at Landen, and although I admit at once that not too
great a value can be attached to the evidence of a girl of nine, I
insert here what the editor wrote about that interview:--

    "Our editor has moreover interviewed young Miss Antoinette de
    Bruijn here, whom our correspondent brought from Louvain to
    Maastricht. In the presence of her mother she told how she had
    been in a train full of wounded, that there were armed soldiers on
    the platform, and that some wounded soldiers had been teased by
    offering them steaming soup which was not given to them. The father
    of this girl, Mr. de Bruijn, also assured us that when he met his
    daughter at Maastricht, our correspondent, Mr. Mokveld, was still
    very much under the impression of what he had witnessed."

My contradiction became known in Germany, and it was an eye-opener to a
great many people there. The editor of _De Tijd_ received many letters
from that country, and printed some of them with the name of the writer
added. From these it seems that even there it was acknowledged in some
circles that the German inquiry had been extremely one-sided, and that
it would have been wiser to admit what had happened at Landen, and
punish the culprits.

The only purpose of my publication was to convince everybody of this,
and thereby prevent the repetition of such a scandalous scene.




CHAPTER XVI

ON THE YSER


FROM the pretty town of Sluys in the Netherland part of Flanders I made
a good many trips to the Belgian coastal regions and the Yser, the
little river that will always be named in history, because there came
the end of the German advance, and there the Belgian army displayed all
its power, fighting with the courage of lions in defence of the last
bit of their native soil.

Yes, Sluys will always live in my memory. How well have been received
the thousands of Belgians who went there for shelter and how much
misery have I seen relieved by the effectual mutual help of the
Belgians and that of the civil and military Netherland authorities.
The burgomaster in particular seemed to be the right man in the right
place, and it was chiefly due to his sagacity that everything went so
regularly in that small town, which had to maintain the proportionately
greatest number of refugees.

In Sluys I also got to know by friendly intercourse the character of
the Belgians, so open, so straightforward, and so bright.

From this town I got the best connections with the West of Belgium,
and as a rule I always made my first visit to ancient and pretty
Bruges, which was constantly strongly occupied by the Germans. In front
of the well-known Halls two small guns had been mounted, threatening
the market-square. The same was the case in front of the Palace of
Justice, where the commander's office was established. The Government
buildings in the market were entirely occupied by the naval staff
of Admiral von Schroeder, and dozens of sailors were sitting in the
offices, working at their typewriting machines.

Soldiers came from and went back to the Yser, which river I saw three
times during the fierce fighting.

The first time when the Germans had only been there for about ten days,
and huge masses were sent to the scene of battle, because they had
decided to break through at any cost.

Along the coast the German line did not reach far beyond Mariakerke,
where a big German flag on a high dune indicated their most advanced
front. Thanks to the consent of a couple of officers I was allowed to
push on to the front lines, and did this in spite of the danger from
bursting shrapnel. The wounded had to walk back from there to Ostend,
very often suffering the most trying pains, because, according to what
they told me, the Red Cross Service was not able to help them all. They
were very dissatisfied on account of the waste of human life by which
the attacks were accompanied, and some made bitter remarks about the
staff which seemed to be mad, constantly sending new troops into the
murderous fire with such evident callousness.

I have been able to assist a good many of these unfortunate people by
bandaging the wounds with the dressing they gave me, or getting some
water for them from some house in the neighbourhood; and one, who had
fallen down exhausted by pain, I carried into a house.

I had more trouble with a wretch who, being heavily wounded in both
legs, lay on the top of a dune beyond Mariakerke. He was quite
alone, and when he discovered me his eyes glistened, full of hope.
He told me of his agonies, and beseeched me to take him to a house
or an ambulance. However much I should have liked to do that, it was
impossible in the circumstances in which I found myself. Nowhere,
even in the farthest distance, was a house to be seen, and I tried
to explain the position to him. But he turned a deaf ear to all my
exhortations, and insisted that I should help him. It was a painful
business, for I could not do the impossible. So I promised him, and
took my oath that I should warn the first ambulance I met, and see to
it that they came and fetched him.

I went away urging him to maintain his courage for the time being, but
he had scarcely noticed that I was about to go, when his eyes began to
gleam and to roll in his head; then he took his rifle, which was lying
by his side, and I, seeing his intention, ran down the dune as quickly
as possible, whilst I heard the well-known click-clack behind me; the
man had fired two bullets at me....

I must not take that sort of thing amiss. Who knew with how much pain
and how long he had been lying there, facing death, but fearing it
too. At last someone came near, and he put all his hope in that man,
but a hope that vanished. Yes, I can quite understand that a man in
those conditions goes mad.

I was not able to stay long at Mariakerke, but succeeded, by going
in an easterly direction, to get near Leke, where the fight was also
in full swing, and where evidently the same command had been issued:
"Advance at any cost." The German artillery stood south of Leke, but I
succeeded in pushing on to a hill near the road, where I could see the
columns of smoke of the Belgian artillery and the clouds of dust which
the German shrapnel threw up.

The Germans advanced in a formation which I had never seen yet. The men
went at the double-quick in closed ranks three abreast, each of the
threefold files marching at a small distance from the other.

They stormed the Belgian lines with lowered bayonets. The Belgians
quietly allowed them to come near, but as soon as they were at a
certain distance from the trenches they wished to take, I heard the
rattle of the mitrailleuses, and the thunder of the guns. The storming
soldiers then disappeared in a fog of smoke and dust, in which I saw
their shadows fall and stagger. This went on for about ten minutes, and
then they came back in complete disorder, still followed by the hostile
bullets and shrapnel.

A period of calm followed, but not for long, for again and again new
attacks were made.

I myself was not very safe either, for frequently bursting shells
fell near me. I therefore thought it safer to cross to a farm-house
a hundred yards farther on, where I might find shelter. Before I got
there an officer of a passing division took me violently by the arm
and asked who I was and what I was doing there? His eyes glittered
savagely, and he as well as his men seemed to be fearfully excited.

I said in a few words who I was, and showed one of my German permits.
He had scarcely seen the many German stamps on it when he let me go
and went on with his men. I then pinned on my coat two permits which
had the greatest number of stamps, and in consequence had no further
trouble.

From the garret-window of the farm-house I followed the fierce battle
for another half-hour, and saw that the Germans suffered enormous
losses, but achieved no gains. At last I had to leave this place too,
because shells fell again quite near to the house. I stayed another ten
minutes near an ambulance, where they were quite unable to attend to
the numerous wounded men. Most of them got an emergency dressing, and
were advised to go higher up and try to get better attention there.

The battle I saw that day on the Yser was the beginning of the
trench-war in that district. Many Belgian troops had dug themselves
in, and later on this system was extended, in consequence of which the
Belgian line there became impregnable.

In those days German Headquarters gave continuously the thoughtless
order: "To Calais, to Calais," and the Staff considered no
difficulties, calculated no sacrifices, in order to achieve success.

What these frenzied orders have cost in human lives History will tell
later on.

       *       *       *       *       *

As soon as the Germans were near the coast they began to fortify it
most formidably, in order to prevent eventual attempts at landing by
hostile troops. Guns were soon mounted in the dunes, as I noticed
during a trip which I made along the coast on Sunday, October 25th.

Heyst was occupied by a small division of marines, although a few
days before the garrison had been larger, but on Saturday evening
all soldiers along the coast had been alarmed, and most of them were
ordered to proceed to the battle-field near Nieuwpoort, where matters
were at the time less favourable for the Germans. Near the dyke I found
five pieces of ordnance mounted, their mouths turned towards the sea,
and that they were quite right in taking precautions was proved by the
men-of-war riding on the distant horizon, without motion.

In the centre of the town I was detained by three sailors, who called
out an angry "Halt!" seized my bicycle, and made me a prisoner,
"because I was an Englishman." Happily I could prove the contrary by my
papers; and the permit of the Bruges commander to go about on a bicycle
made them return it.

There was a general complaint in that district about the very arbitrary
requisitions: for example, beds and blankets were extensively taken
away from the convents, a thing against which the burgomaster of
Bruges had already protested. Horses, cows, and other cattle were
simply taken from the stables and the meadows, and paid for with paper
promises.

At Zeebrugge the conditions were not alarming. The houses of those who
had gone away, however, had been damaged most terribly, and looted.
Round the harbour guns were mounted, guarded by many sentries. I was at
first forbidden to cross the canal bridge, but my excellent credentials
at length made the sentries give in. Everything indicated that already
during the first days of the occupation the Germans had begun to
execute their plan to turn Zeebrugge into a station for submarines.

The commander ruled with a strong hand. They issued not only the usual
proclamations about introducing German time, but the commander went
even so far as to dictate at what hour the Holy Masses had to be said.
In one of the proclamations I read, for example, that in future the
Mass of six o'clock, Belgian time, had to be said at the same hour
German time. Another proclamation said that skippers were forbidden to
sail, and that all boats, including fisher-boats, had been seized.

In the dunes near Ostend I came across a level field fenced off by the
military, and in the centre I saw a large company of superior officers,
and a marine band. They were arranged round three big caves, into
which just then had been lowered nine military officers and ordinary
soldiers, who died in the nearly completed new Military Hospital of
Ostend in the neighbourhood.

With a powerful voice, in order to drown the roar of the guns, a
German parson delivered the funeral oration, in which he spoke of the
heroic conduct of the fallen men, who had sacrificed their lives for
God, Kaiser, and Fatherland, and who, by God's inscrutable decree,
were not destined to witness the final victory of the powerful German
armies. The marines put their instruments to their mouths and played a
slow funeral march. It was really very touching, and all the spectators
came under the impression.

Whilst yet the sweet strains of the music sounded over the dunes, the
dull booming of the heavy field-artillery was heard constantly, and
each boom meant the end of so many more human lives. The music went
on, and the officers approached one after the other to throw a handful
of sand on the corpses of their fallen comrades. I saw their nostrils
tremble, saw them bite their lips nervously, saw tears in their eyes.

The ceremony wound up with a short silent prayer offered at the request
of the parson.

The funeral had deeply moved me, and full of emotion I approached the
edge of the graves. I saw three corpses in each of them, simply wrapped
in a clean, white sheet. The only decorations were some green palm
branches ... the branches telling of peace.

A little farther on I discovered a good many other mounds. A cross made
of two little pieces of wood stood on each, amongst pots with flowers
and small posies. On one of the crosses I saw written in pencil--

    "Captain Count Von Schwerin, 19. 10.'14."

It was very interesting, because a humble private had been buried by
his side.

Of course I did not know this Count von Schwerin, but because I had
just witnessed that funeral, and because it was so striking that men of
every class were buried in the same manner, I reported what I saw to my
paper. And, tragic fate, in consequence of this, the wife of the late
Count heard for the first time of the death of her husband to whom she,
a Netherland baroness, had been married at the beginning of the war. At
the request of the family I made arrangements so that the grave might
be recognised after the war.

In Ostend every place was full of wounded men, who all came walking
from the battle-field in groups. Even in those days the fierce fights
continued in consequence of the mad attempts to conquer Dunkirk and
Calais. Great losses were suffered also by the enormous effect of the
British naval guns, against which the German marines had mounted big
guns in Ostend and farther along the coast, in order to keep the fleet
at a distance.

On the day of my visit to Ostend all sorts of conveyances had taken
more than 3,000 wounded into the town. Peasants from the neighbourhood
were compelled to harness their horses and transport the unfortunate
men. Such a procession was distressing to look at, as most men lay
on open carts, only supported by a handful of newly cut straw, and
long processions entered the town continuously. As reinforcements had
arrived, the divisions of the German army which had suffered most came
sometimes from the front to the town, in order to have a rest, and
then I saw a great deal of misery.

Some of the soldiers were furious and others distressed on account
of the great number of comrades left on the battle-field, while they
hardly made any progress against the tenacity of the Allies. Those who
were not seriously wounded were not even put up in hospitals or similar
buildings, as there was only room for a few, although many private
houses had been turned into supplementary hospitals. In the streets and
the cafés I saw therefore hundreds of men in bandages.

The condition of the civilian population was not too roseate. Most
of them were away, and from those who had stayed everything was
requisitioned. Staying in the town was not without danger, for two days
before my visit it had been bombarded from noon to one o'clock by the
British fleet, by which an hotel on the boulevard and some houses in
the Rue des Flamands had been damaged.

From Ostend I went a few days later to Thourout, a townlet to the north
of the centre of the Yser-line. I was accompanied by two Netherland
colleagues whom I had met at Bruges. Everything was quiet there; the
commander of the naval region, Admiral von Schroeder, had made himself
slightly ridiculous, by informing the population in a proclamation that
he had ordered the British citizens in the coastal region to leave the
country, in order to protect them from their fellow-countrymen of the
British fleet, who, by bombarding Ostend, had endangered their lives.

As we left through the Gate-of-Bruges towards Thourout we were
approached by a small military group, a few German soldiers who
escorted about a dozen French and Belgian prisoners of war. Until that
moment the street had been relatively quiet, but the inhabitants had
scarcely heard that the "boys" came, when each ran into the street,
forgetting all fear of the "Duuts," and, breaking through the escort,
they gave their "boys" an apple, or a pear, or a packet of cigarettes;
so we saw a huge round of white bread fly through the air and land in
the hands of one of the "boys." Such a thing touches one always, and
even the escorting Germans, who at first were very indignant on account
of the sudden and unexpected intrusion, left the citizens alone with a
generous gesture, as to say: "Well, have your way."

The other eleven miles of the road to Thourout were quite deserted, and
only in one place did I see a man working in the field. We only saw
now and again a small escort which overtook us. From afar a trooper
approached us; after having heard who we were, he told us that he had
been on the way already three days and three nights from the trench
lines, and how fierce the fighting was there. The German losses had
been immense; he pointed to the unoccupied horse by his side, and said:
"My chum, whose horse this was, fell also." He took a couple of strong
pulls at his pipe, and, spurring his mount, rode off with a: "Keep
well."

At Thourout all convents and large buildings had been turned into
hospitals, and the streets on both sides were full of big wagons.
Hundreds of soldiers went off, and large convoys of carts were
standing in the meadows and on the roads, where officers and men were
also practising riding. We were here in the rear, where there was a
continuous going and coming from the front. Most soldiers were in a
more or less excited mood; some did not hide their discontent, or sat
musing dejectedly, asking themselves how these terrible days would
end for them? Others again seemed to have got into a sort of frenzy
in consequence of the continuous fighting and were not able to think
logically at all. They told excited stories about the British whom they
had killed, and chased away from the 42 c.m. guns, who, according to
them, were also at work in the swampy soil near Nieuwpoort, and also
told about the shooting civilians, and those cursed Belgians, who cut
open the bellies of their poor wounded, or sliced off their noses,
hands, and ears. Of course pure fairy tales, but recited with much
power of conviction.

The question of lodgings brought also many difficulties, for nobody
wanted to, or could put us up. At last we succeeded at the Hôtel
l'Union, where we first ate two roasted pigeons which were intended for
a couple of officers, who would return in the evening from the front
line. The three of us subsequently occupied one room, after having
written on the door with chalk that Lieutenants So and So were staying
there. For the landlady had told us that she was willing to put us up,
but that the officers who returned every night from the front line were
sure to turn us out. Indeed in the evening we heard heavy steps before
our door, but after a voice had read out that Lieutenants So and So
were passing the night there, they all went away again.

The next morning the roar of the cannon woke us up, and soon we heard
how the fighting stood, for when we went to the commander for a permit
to go to Dixmuiden, the sympathetic major absolutely refused it, and
haltingly added that he himself did not yet know how things stood
there. Well, that was enough for us. At last he gave us a permit for
Ostend, and we noticed very soon that now we were in the rear of the
front. Whilst the guns were thundering on continuously and the shrapnel
exploded in the air, we passed continuously large contingents, who
actually formed one long line. The fight was going on only a few
miles away, and incessantly the unhappy wounded came out of the small
bypaths, stumbling on in their heavily muddied clothes.

At the "Oud Slot van Vlaanderen," a large, ancient castle, there was a
lot of hustle and bustle of carriages and motor-cars. We had not gone
another two hundred yards, when someone came after us and stopped us as
suspects. We were escorted back to the castle, where a general command
was established, and an aviators-division, with the motor-section
attached to it. Happily our detention did not last long, and after
examination we were released. On the road was an infernal noise, as
the violent roar of the cannon was mixing with the roar of the wheels
of the heavily-loaded convoys and the whirr and hooting of the army
motors. Long processions of field-kitchens passed us also, most of them
brand-new; but it was remarkable that all carts arranged for a team of
two were drawn with great difficulty by only one horse, and also that
so many civilians have been compelled to act as drivers, or to gather
the wounded.

Constantly new and large transports of wounded came along the road, and
here and there they were busy killing and burying wounded horses. The
inhabitants locked themselves in their houses, and expected with great
fear that any moment the military might arrive to claim their last
horse or cow. The requisitions went on continuously, and the cattle
were driven to the front in a long, desolate procession.

As we went on towards Eerneghem French aviators were heroically
reconnoitring above the German lines. One came from Dixmuiden and one
from Nieuwpoort; both went to about half-way between these two towns,
where the centre of the battle was. The Germans kept up an unbroken
artillery fire at those birds in the air. I saw quite near to them
shells exploding right and left and discharging dense, black clouds
of smoke that disappeared slowly. There were moments when these black
stretches of cloud seemed to form a frame round the aeroplanes, but the
brave aviators knew how to escape from their assailants by all sorts of
tricks. They came down to go up again unexpectedly, entirely changed
their direction a moment later, and at last both disappeared undamaged.

At Eerneghem we were not only stopped, but also sent back outright.
It was considered extremely impudent on our side that we had dared to
push on so far, because we were in the fighting-line. Even the permit
given by the commander of Thourout was of no avail.

Back at Bruges we attended in the market the concert given by a
German military band near the statues of Breydel and de Koninck. At
the commander's office I witnessed a remarkable incident. A German
post-official and a soldier had just brought in a decently dressed
gentleman. The postman began to relate that he was taking away the
telephone instrument at that gentleman's house in order to fix it up at
the commander's office, and that the gentleman had said: "Why do you
steal that instrument?" As the postman said this the commander jumped
up in a fury, and called out:

"What? What? Do you dare to call it stealing, what we Germans take here
in Bruges?"

"Sir, I do not understand German, but----"

"Not a word, not a word; you have insulted a German official, and
according to the proclamation you know that that is severely punished.
You are my prisoner."

As he said this the commander put his hand roughly on the shoulder of
the trembling man, who again said in French:

"I have not used the word 'steal' at all, but let me explain the
matter."

"There is nothing to explain. Officer, you can take your oath on it?"

"Certainly, captain."

"Well"--this to a private--"you call the patrol; this man must be
arrested."

The unhappy man bowed his head trembling, and with dull resignation he
left the office, strongly escorted.

The man who had this experience was Mr. Coppieters, the District
Commissioner, a man who had given all his life to the service of
society and the good of the community.

Happily the burgomaster intervened, and, as I heard later, got him
released.

       *       *       *       *       *

These are some of the things I could tell about my trips in the West of
Belgium. By the end of November I was no longer allowed to move freely
behind the front, although from time to time I visited small Belgian
frontier-places.

Yet I am glad to have witnessed the terrible fights near the Yser a
couple of times where the German invasion was stopped, and where we may
hope that soon victory may dawn on the brave Belgian army.


_Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and
Aylesbury_


FOOTNOTES:

[1] The translator uses the words "The Netherlands, Netherlander," and
"Netherland" on purpose. The Germans call themselves "Deutsch," the
Americans call them "Dutch," the Flemish use "Duts" or "Duuts," and the
Netherlanders "Duitsch"; so it is desirable to exchange "Dutch" for
"Netherland."

[2] See note on page 15.




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By PAUL HYACINTHE LOYSON

Translated from the French by LADY FRAZER

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Transcriber's Note

Variable spelling and hyphenation have been retained. Minor punctuation
inconsistencies have been silently repaired.

On page 202, the underlined text was missing:

    "At last I appealed to his heart by relating all the Netherlanders
    had done for +the Belgians. This had the desired effect, and I was
    allowed to drive home with him.

    At every inn he felt thirsty, and made me feel quite clearly that I
    had every reason to treat him.+ And every time that we went back to
    our seats he said again:"

It was completed from the copy of the Library
of Congress found in Internet Archive
https://archive.org/details/germanfuryinbelg02mokv/page/n8

Duplicated text on pages 203-204 was deleted.

Corrections.

The first line indicates the original, the second the correction.

p. 75

  I had to listen to a prolonged hymn of praise of the Netherlander,
  I had to listen to a prolonged hymn of praise of the Netherlanders,

p. 106, Footnote [2]

  See note on page 1.
  See note on page 15.

p. 178

  to instruct the vicars in the eighteen parishers
  to instruct the vicars in the eighteen parishes

p. 180

  but then they introducted
  but then they introduced

p. 202

  There was shouting enough in the streets and on the boulewards
  There was shouting enough in the streets and on the boulevards





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