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

by Sister Marie Antoine

There was one who was not indifferent. It was the wounded German officer who, as he himself admitted, had accomplished so much in the destruction of Louvain, and whose serious condition did not permit his being transferred with the first division of the Red Cross which left a short time before. He was sorely troubled when he heard he had to leave, and would much rather have remained. He promised, in case the opportunity offered, to speak a good word for the Convent.

Did he survive or obtain his freedom, and thus have occasion to keep his word? We know not; but we do know that when the German soldiers were in possession of our Boarding-school, after the fall of Antwerp, our Superior and Sisters wrote that they had no complaint to make as to the conduct of those “Rynlanders.”

The Sisters could hardly realize that they were obliged to leave their Convent home, for which they had toiled and labored for years, and which was as dear to them as the arms of a mother to her children; those schools which had so often re-echoed to the gay sounds of children’s voices, as hundreds of them marched and sang in chorus; the garden where the white ducks were yet swimming in the pond; the fruit trees and flowers; in a word, all had to be left to the fire of the merciless bombs and shrapnels.

Several times they went back and forth, while it seemed preferable to remain and take the risk than to go and endure the vicissitudes of pilgrimage and exile. But the command had to be obeyed, as the danger increased every moment.

About two o’clock three of us joined the crowds of farmers, country people and cavalrymen who were passing on their way to Boom. The other Sisters stood in the hall, ready to depart. We carried satchels and some small baggage, and walked to Boom, where we arrived safely at three o’clock. On the way we met a lady and gentleman who conversed fluently in English.

When we arrived at the station we learned that the train for Antwerp had left a few minutes before, and there would be no further transportation before evening. We went to the home of one of our Sisters in Boom and rested until five o’clock. Here we were joined by our Rev. Mother Superior and a large party of Sisters, who had left Willebroeck shortly after we did. Just as they had crossed the bridge of Boom, a bomb fell beside it and exploded, but did not injure the bridge. Our Sisters were on their way to Aertselaar, one of our missions at some distance from the firing line. Rev. Father Somers, one of the assistant priests of Willebroeck, remained at his post in the village church during the bombardment of the town. Four Sisters had the courage to remain in the Convent when all the rest had left. They have written recently from Bristol, England, describing their experience amid the rain of bombs and shrapnel which fell that evening in the garden and around the buildings.

Bidding adieu to the Sisters who had joined us in Boom, we went to the railroad station about five o’clock in the evening, expecting to be in good time for the train to Antwerp. One of the Sisters sent a dispatch to her mother to send some one to meet us in the East Station when the train would arrive. As we approached the station in Boom, we met throngs of people coming back.

A lady told us not to go to the station, as no train would leave for Antwerp that night. Undismayed by the sad news, we passed those crowds of people and went right on to the station. The station-master was not at liberty, so we stood there a few moments with a party of others in the waiting-room. A young lady of Boom, one of our former pupils, and one of the Sisters set out in search of a motor car or carriage. None could be obtained at any cost, not even a farmer’s cart or wagon. All that could be used were in the service of the army.

From five o’clock until seven, the fruitless search continued, while the other two Sisters remained at the station in charge of the baggage. At seven o’clock one Sister returned with the good news that she had met the “Chef” of the First Division of the Red Cross ambulance which had remained in our hospital, and, having exhausted all the fine expressions in her French vocabulary, at last succeeded in sending him to the General of the Belgian Army, then in a restaurant in the city, to ask permission for the Sisters to enter the train of the Red Cross, which was at that time standing on the Antwerp Railroad, back of the depot.

A lady and gentleman of Antwerp, on hearing of our success, pleaded with tears in their eyes to have us ask permission for them also to enter the train. Our youngest Sister, moved with compassion at the sorry plight of two fellow-creatures, made use of a stratagem in their favor. “Papa, Mamma,” said she, when the “Chef” approached with permission for the Sisters to enter the train, “Papa, Mamma, carry our baggage into the train.” The lady and gentleman took up the baggage in a hurry and the Sisters followed them into the train.