"Ha! another. This is a double invasion, the German invasion and that of the volunteers!"
THE OLD MAN AND THE GOAT, ANTWERP.
August 14, 1914.
All morning there is an uninterrupted cortège of civilians fleeing from the onrushing hordes. They have taken with them everything capable of being carried in their hands. The pathetic sight makes one feel the precipitateness of the flight, the despair, the panic!
A bent old man arrives presently; he walks slowly, fixedly regarding the ground. He is leading a little white goat, which, every ten paces or so, butts the old man with its horns, as if urging him to go faster. The latter does not falter—he walks straight ahead.
One doesn't know whether to laugh or weep.
THE SOLDIER WHO BAYONETS HIS
FIRST BOCHE, BELGIUM.
September, 1914.
A young soldier was seated alongside the road. He belonged to a Regiment of the Division quartered in the neighboring villages. He had a sad and dejected air.
I seated myself at his side because I wanted to know the impression of the men who had already been in battle.
"Have you been under fire?" I queried.