On this day, August 8th, the reign of terror was still in full force. There were repeated threats to burn the town and to kill the inhabitants if they objected to do work or to deliver certain goods, especially wine and gin, of which thousands of bottles were requisitioned daily. Several times a day they were summoned by a bell and informed what the invader wanted, the necessary threats being added to the command. And the inhabitants, in mortal fear, no longer trusted each other, but searched each other's houses for things that might be delivered to satisfy the Germans.
The entire neighbourhood was still being bombarded from the forts to the north of Liège; several German divisions succeeded, however, in crossing the Meuse near Lixhe. In spite of the shell-fire they passed the pontoon-bridge there, turned into a by-way leading to the canal, near Haccourt, crossed one of the canal-bridges, of which not one had been destroyed, and along another by-way, came to the main road from Maastricht to Tongres, at a spot about three miles from the last-named town.
The shelling went on during the night, and all that time the inhabitants remained in their cellars.
Although I had got farther on my way than I had dared to expect, my journalist's heart longed for more. If I could get to Liège, which was said to have just been taken! But my passport stated that I was only allowed to go to Visé. I thought the matter out, and the longer I thought, the stronger became my desire to go on; and at last I decided to do it.
Near the outskirts of the town I found barricades which, however, seemed not to have been used, but stray shells had knocked large pieces out of the low, wide wall between the road and the Meuse's flowing water.
There was not much traffic. Only here and there stood some German soldiers, or seriously wounded men were lying on mattresses and chairs. Nearly every house by the roadside had been turned into an emergency hospital, for from all sides they brought in soldiers wounded by shells that had exploded amidst the advancing divisions.
The road along which I walked, the main road between Visé and Liège, was laid under fire from various forts, and every moment I saw on my left clouds rise up from the rocky heights that run along the whole of the Meuse. These clouds were partly formed by smoke from the guns mounted by the Germans against the forts, partly by volumes of earth thrown up by the projectiles from the broken-up soil.
I myself ran great risks too, but I did not mind, and walked on, moved by a consuming desire to get to Liège, and then back to Maastricht, to be able to wire to my paper that I had been to Liège only just after it was taken by the Germans, and that the news, wired from Germany to the Netherland papers, that the forts had been taken was untrue.
I had a short chat with the wounded men near the various houses, on demand showed my passport to those in authority, and was advised as a friendly Netherlander to return, as it was extremely dangerous on the road. But I did not dream of doing this, as long as I was not compelled, and went on towards Liège amidst this maddening thunder.
I had walked another three miles, when a big crowd of fugitives met me. They seemed to have come a long way, for the majority could hardly walk on, and had taken off their shoes and boots, on account of the scorching heat, going on barefooted in the shade of the tall trees. It was a procession, numbering hundreds of men, women, and children. The aged were supported, the babies carried. Most of them had a small parcel on their back or under their arm. They seemed tired to death, had dark red faces, and betrayed great fear and nervousness. I crossed the road to speak to them, and as soon as they noticed it the whole crowd, numbering hundreds of people, stood still, creeping closer together, women and girls trying hard to hide themselves behind the men, and these doffed their caps timidly.