Never before had I seen German soldiers newly returned from the field of battle. Nothing remained of the well-dressed, well-fed, and stiff troops generally seen in Germany. Their uniforms were torn and dirty; their faces unshaven, thin, and often unhealthy. They did not sing, they were not noisy. I saw them in cafés and restaurants writing long letters home, with a large glass of beer in front of them.
Often in the same establishment were groups of bright young soldiers in comparatively fresh uniforms, soldiers who were cheering and singing because next day they were going to the front. They were men of the '95 and '96 classes who had just come from Germany. The veterans were looking at them, and I heard one say to another, "They will cool down soon; they don't know yet what the trenches are like."
Tournai has seen going through its streets most of the German wounded on their way back to the Fatherland and most of the prisoners travelling to the concentration camps in Germany. Nobody could tell me, even approximately, the number of wounded that had gone through the town, but everybody agreed the number was very large, though the number of sick is still larger. Typhoid fever claims a large number of victims, both amongst the troops and the civilian population.
Special notices warning everyone to drink no water unless it had been boiled were to be seen everywhere. Lately numerous cases of lockjaw (tetanus) have also made their appearance. It is said that soldiers get the dreadful illness while working with barbed wire.
The station of Tournai, as well as two large hotels near it, have been converted into depôts for the wounded who are to be sent to Germany. Apparently the German Government does not like wounded or sick soldiers to come into touch with civilians or with soldiers going to the front. It is to avoid such contact that they are concentrated in Tournai, and from there sent viâ Mons, Liége, Aix-la-Chapelle, straight to Germany. No civilians are allowed into the station at Tournai, and the wounded always travel by special train.
For the prisoners it is different. They are marched through the town, preceded and followed by German troops. The population offers them cigars, sweets, and tobacco, to the great rage of the German soldiers, who can never manage to make any friends. Very often the same group of soldiers is made to march through the town many times to impress the population with the large number of prisoners.
A lady who has been in Tournai since the beginning of the war told me that she once noticed amongst a group of British soldiers a very tall, thin, and red-haired Highlander, and she remarked to a lady friend with her, "Isn't that man the living caricature of the Englishman as we always see him on the stage?"
But two or three days later she saw a fellow exactly like the first amongst another group of prisoners; she came to the conclusion that the giraffe-like figures and ginger hair were rather common in the British Army.
The next day brought another group of British prisoners and another apparition of a very tall, red-haired "Tommy." She looked at him interrogatively, at which he bowed and shouted out in a jolly voice: "Here I am again, madam." The lady bid him good-bye, but the Tommy laughed, and answered, "No, au revoir. I shall call again soon, I am sure."
I wanted to get as near the firing line as possible, and I asked permission to go to Lille. This was denied me, and as, considering the enormous number of sentries on the roads, it would have been foolish to try and go there without it, I decided to go instead to Courtrai, a little town north of Tournai, which is only about twelve kilometres (about eight miles) from the firing line.