From Convent to Conflict; Or, A Nun's Account of the Invasion of Belgium

by Sister Marie Antoine

The result was that all the Germans then in Belgium were expelled from the country and had to return to their own land. This was, indeed, a hardship for the unoffending resident Germans, whose homes for years had been in the cities and towns of this little kingdom.

We retired at a late hour one night amid the incessant booming of cannon. Scarcely were our eyes closed when some one passed in the dormitory and knocked at each door. “Ave Maria” was the quiet greeting. “Deo Gratias,” the response. “What is it?” was asked. “The Germans have entered and are crossing the bridge,” was the reply.

With beating heart and trembling limbs, each sprang up and was dressed in a few minutes. In a state of great excitement, all stood in the hall ready to receive orders from the Superior, who had gone downstairs to make inquiries about the situation. At the first sound of the alarm a party of soldiers and their officer went out to ascertain the facts in the case, as the bridge where the enemy were said to be crossing was not far distant.

All the inhabitants of the village were on the alert. By the time the Sisters were ready to depart, the soldiers had returned, whose officer laughingly related that it was only a party of Belgian “Lanciers” in gray uniform, whom the Burgomaster of Blaesvelt had mistaken for German soldiers, and thought it his duty to spread the alarm.

All retired quietly to their rooms once more, but no one rested much the remainder of the night.

Then followed anxious days for the residents of Willebroeck, who expected momentarily to hear the alarm clock in the church tower give notice to flee for their lives. The officers of the Belgian army were very sanguine, and assured the Superior and those in charge of the wounded that timely notice would be given if the danger increased.

Nevertheless, the crackling of shells, the heavy cannonade from the fortress and field cannon, and the occasional proximity of those hostile aeroplanes, together with the reports of atrocities and destruction taking place around us, were fearsome in the extreme.

In striking contrast to the noise and commotion on all sides, was the calm tranquility which reigned in the chapel. The Sacred Heart stretched forth that same Fatherly hand which assisted the apostle sinking on the Sea of Galilee. The altar was still and solitary, but the little red light flickered in the sanctuary lamp and told of Him whose word alone stilled the winds and calmed the angry waves.

In the circumstances which then existed, one would almost envy the dead resting so quietly in the old-time vault, in the shadow of the tabernacle.

Lights were forbidden after a certain hour, but the moon shone through the stained windows and wrought fantastic designs on the gilded molding, while the mild and peaceful looks which characterize the images of the saints told of heroism and victories won on the battle field of life, in the pursuit of peace and sanctity, and carried the mind to that future and better life where neither the pride, avarice, nor ambition of man can ever destroy the eternal peace, nor break the impregnable union of hearts.