“Scarcely had we reached the station, at half-past eight, when we heard the heavy roar of cannon, followed by terrific explosions, such as we had never before heard. All the people who had come from the direction of Antwerp took flight through the side streets. At every explosion it seemed as if an earthquake shook the ground under foot. So heavy were the shocks that many people fell.
“On the Schuttersvest, we found refuge in a cellar, while one volley followed another. The explosions were deafening. Every pane of glass in the vicinity was broken in pieces. In several places the stones were forced out of the pavements and thrown to a great distance, while bombs pierced the ground to the depth of two meters.
“One can judge the terror in which the residents of Mechelen tried to find a place of safety. The cannonade was awful, as was also the ‘Gesis’ (sissing noise) of the bombs which flew over the streets and, exploding, spread fire, death and destruction in every direction.
“A bomb fell just in front of the railroad station, making a pit in the ground three ‘meters’ in diameter. The place was covered with stones, which were violently jerked out of the ground. The station is half-demolished. No one is there to be seen except the lifeless body of an elderly gentleman who, with his face to the ground, is stretched out on the floor of the waiting-room.
“The beautiful buildings belonging to the Little Sisters of the Poor, and many other noted buildings have been totally destroyed. Thus it was in the few places which we have visited. What will it be in other places? All the streets through which we passed were covered with glass and stones. In all the city there is not a pane of glass which remains whole. All day long the Duffel highway was black with refugees, which makes us conclude that all Mechelen has taken flight.”
CHAPTER XII.
The Results of War.
Centuries ago, when Attila, known in history as the “Scourge of God,” led his army of Huns through the fertile fields of Europe, we read that he gazed upon the ruin which he had caused his soldiers to perpetrate on all sides, and cried out, “I am the hammer of the world, the grass grows no more where my horse has trod.”
Well may these same words be applied to the armed forces now dominating the devastated plains and meadows of what was once peaceful Belgium.
When one passes through the masses of falling debris and looks upon the remains of cities and villages which have stood for ages and in whose monuments and public buildings a more than human strength and beauty seemed enclosed, it appears that the Angel of Destruction has extended his deadly sceptre over the works of man and congealed those streams of life which once flowed through the streets now deserted and homes made desolate by the unheard-of ferocity of civilized man.