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.