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:

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

"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:—

"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