A Friendly Chat.
We had gone a long way when we were brought to a standstill at a little place called Heyst-op den Berg, where the sentinels leaned into our car and had a long friendly chat with us.
"You cannot go any further," they said. "The Germans are in the next town ahead; they are only a few kilometres away."
"What town is it?" I asked.
"Aerschot," they replied.
"That is on the way to Louvain, is it not?" I asked. "I have been trying for a long time to get to Louvain!"
"You can never get to Louvain, Madam," the sentinels told me smilingly. "Between here and Louvain lies the bulk of the German Army."
Just then, a chasseur, mounted on a beautiful fiery little brown Ardennes horse, came galloping along, shouting as he passed, "The Germans have been turned out of Aerschot; we have driven them out, les sales cochons!"
He jumped off his horse, gave the reins to a soldier and leapt into a train that was standing at the station.