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.