Pushing on from Brussels the same evening, the Germans took possession of the undefended cities of Ghent and Bruges, and advance brigades of cavalry made their appearance at Ostend, which was occupied shortly afterwards. This advance—of no military importance, and savouring of what is colloquially known as window-dressing—was more than compensated for by a series of French successes in Alsace-Lorraine. General Joffre's forces drove the Germans out of several of the smaller towns, captured many hundreds of prisoners, and took ninety-one guns from the enemy.
Coincidentally with the arrival of the Germans in Brussels, it was announced that this country would lend our Belgian allies the sum of £10,000,000 in recognition of their splendid services at the beginning of the war.
The first complete account of the fighting at Dinant a few days previously was given in a special message from Mr. Granville Fortescue. Writing from Dinant on August 15th, Mr. Fortescue said:
A considerable force of German light infantry, supported by mountain batteries, to-day made a determined attack on this town. The fight lasted from daylight till dark. Although the Germans had some success in the morning, the arrival of French reinforcements compelled them to evacuate the excellent positions they had taken.
The first shell just missed the clock above the railroad station, which marked ten minutes past six, and fell through the roof. It did little damage beyond shattering numerous windows. The railroad station is directly opposite my hotel. The second shell tore through the chimney of the hotel. The kitchen was filled with bits of bricks and mortar. The breakfast coffee was spoiled.
Captain X., who was here on a special mission, made his escape in a motor, accompanied by a squad of khaki-clad couriers on motor-cycles. The guests of the hotel scuttled to the cellars.
It was nearly seven o'clock before the infantry began firing in earnest. The only French troops in the town were some of a regiment of the line. The French had no artillery when the action opened.
The position was in a certain state of defence, which might have been improved. However, the streets were barricaded and a field of wire entanglements stretched across the bridge, which was also commanded by a mitrailleuse.
Dinant lies in a well, one might say, on both banks of the Meuse. High limestone cliffs tower above the town. On the east bank these are steep, and are crowned by an ancient fort known as the citadel. The fort dominates the whole adjacent country. On the west bank of the Meuse the town scrambles up a hillside, covered with trees.
When the engagement opened I joined Commandant A. and Lieutenant B., who were in charge of the detachment defending the bridge.
At this time the Germans were making a strong effort to capture the citadel. It was held by a small French force, perhaps one company.
The cliffs resounded with the rifle and gun fire. The din and the falling shells drove the population en masse to the "caves."
Members of the Volunteer Hospital Corps, however, hurried along on their bicycles searching the streets for wounded.
The German mountain batteries fired with accuracy, although the small projectiles had little effect. I picked up the fuse of one shell, a Dapp, cut at 4,000 mètres.
About ten o'clock the Germans held the crest of the cliffs across the river, and soon took the citadel. They sent down a veritable hail of lead on the defenders. Behind the cover of the bridge abutments the French reply gallantly. Thus the fight goes on for an hour. One hears nothing save the irregular explosions of rifles, the machine-like sputterings of the mitrailleuse, punctuated by the shock of shell fire. It rains, but this in no way halts the firing. About thirty wounded are brought in when the French troops change position to the high ground back of the town. A sudden increase in the volume of sound tells me that the wished-for reinforcements have arrived. Soon a half-company of a regiment crowd into the hotel, expecting to find there a good field of fire. They bring with them a dozen frightened women who have been hiding in the station.
About noon the firing slackens, and the rain ceases. A few limping figures in blue coats and red trousers stagger into the hotel. A doctor stationed here gives them first-aid attention. While the lull continues a woman crosses to the pillar-box and drops in a postcard.
About one I return to my post of observation. The German flag has been hoisted over the citadel. This is a signal for renewed firing. The sight of the hated flag seems to rouse the French troops to fury. About 2 p.m. I hear for the first time the welcome sound of French field artillery. One of the first shots cuts the German flag across. Two French batteries have arrived, and they hail projectiles into the citadel with extraordinary accuracy. Another line regiment arrives to reinforce the troops here, and under a smothering fire I see the heads of the Germans that dotted the ramparts of the fort begin to disappear. At this time I also hear heavy firing in the south-east. About ten minutes before six I cannot distinguish a German on the ramparts. The only firing is some scattered shooting from the French side. A cheer greets the coming of another new regiment, and soon the French troops are back in the positions they held in the morning.
But the road back of the bridge is dotted with the dead. They lie in all sorts of contorted positions. Their blue coats are splashed with red, their red trousers are stained a deeper crimson.
And the cheers of the troops who have just arrived die down as they pass this grim testimony of what war means.
As it was the intention of the French to hold the Dinant bridge at all hazards, their strongest force was placed behind the abutment wings of this bridge. These are limestone block walls, about three feet high, and offer good cover. But this cover would have been vastly improved if the walls had been capped with sandbags. There was plenty of time to have so improved this defence. Again, the field of fire before this position was poor. But the gravest mistake was the neglect to construct protected approaches to the advanced position. Reinforcements had to be rushed across an open field of fire, where they suffered unnecessary casualties. And when the French line of defence had to be changed, and the troops withdrawn to a higher position behind the town, they suffered heavily because they must pass along a road swept by the German fire. All of which should have been provided against. This is not written in a spirit of criticism, but simply to call attention to certain mistakes that will, in the future, surely be corrected.
The French are under a severe handicap in the matter of uniform. It is over a dozen years since the Boer War, and certainly they should have discarded the blue coat and red trousers for a more neutral colour. They have covered the red crown of their caps with blue. This is to prevent their being discovered by aeroplane scouts. But the flamboyant uniform of the line regiments makes a fair mark, as far as the modern rifle is effective. In groups they are all the gunner asks for a target.
On the other hand, the Germans have adopted a grey-green colour that is almost invisible. Yesterday, with a first-class glass, I had difficulty in locating individuals.
What I have written applies with more force to the Belgian troops. These soldiers are as conspicuous as claret stains on a new tablecloth.
On my way here I passed some four or five regiments of infantry. Though the men are young, they are going into this war with a seriousness unusual in the French. Of course, the Gallic temperament is not changed. They still show their "esprit" and their gaiety is not altogether extinguished. Perhaps the solemnity I have alluded to is more noticed among the officers than the men. They are as grave as schoolmasters. All of which is a good sign.
I have been particularly struck by the professional atmosphere of the artillery officers. It needs but a glance of the eye to be sure that this arm will perform splendid service under their direction.
The Germans had so many men massed in the occupied portions of Belgium by this time that temporary checks did not stem what one correspondent aptly described as a tidal wave of troops sweeping irresistibly through the valley of the Meuse. Japan, who had sent Germany an ultimatum with regard to Kiao-Chau, declared war on receiving no reply by the stipulated time; but, it is unnecessary to add, this fact had no influence on the operations of the German troops in Belgium. Telegrams sent off on Sunday stated that a big battle was developing in the neighbourhood of Charleroi—Mons, and that the Germans in order to ensure the uninterrupted and safe passage of their army, had occupied all the villages between Louvain and Alost. The Liège forts, it was officially announced, were still holding out, but the Germans had "contained" them by a large force of soldiers. Attention was rather concentrated on the forts at Namur, to subdue which the Germans had advanced their heavy siege guns. It was said on Monday, August 24th, that "Namur had fallen," but no confirmation of this statement could be obtained, and it was generally taken as meaning that the invaders had managed to enter the town, but that the forts were still holding out. An official message from Brussels on the following Wednesday evening said that Namur had not yet fallen.
In the meantime refugees were hurrying from Ostend, to which city both Belgian and German wounded were being brought. The cross-Channel steamers were crowded, and Belgian refugees who had come away from Brussels and Tirlemont made their appearance in London.