In La Préville a number of Uhlans who broke open a café and satiated themselves with drink saw a little boy of seven playing with a toy gun. Because he pointed it at a German soldier he was shot.
Base Act of Ingratitude.
Many Belgian refugees, after weary wanderings, found themselves in Paris, and some of them were given shelter in the vast Cirque de Paris, where straw was laid upon the floor upon which those made homeless and destitute by the Kaiser’s savage barbarians made their bed.
One old grey-haired man, bent and travel-stained, was found by a correspondent seated alone and silently weeping. A kindly Red Cross nurse inquired the reason of his despondency. He said: “My name is Jean Beauzon. I kept a little coffee-house just across the river from Liége, in the town of Grivegnee. When the army was mobilized my two sons, both strapping fine fellows, went off to join the regiment. I have two daughters, one left with my old father and the other here”; so saying he pointed to a bright-eyed girl of sixteen, whose face and head were swathed in bandages.
“You see,” he went on, “that poor dear face. Well, a German did that. They burst into my place and demanded wine, which I gave them. What happened then I cannot exactly remember. It all seems like a horrible nightmare. We subsequently left our home and wandered away in the opposite direction from the terrible cannonading that was going on.
“After walking in the dark for two hours my other daughter became too tired to go any farther and sat down in despair by the roadside.
“This girl here and I then went on to try to find some means of conveyance for her. A little way down the road we came upon a riderless horse, which we managed with great difficulty to catch and mount. We then went back to find my other daughter. We had not left her for more than half an hour, but she was no longer there. We spent the rest of the night looking for her, but found no sign or trace of her, and in the end were obliged to give up the search.
“Finally we got into a train, which brought us here. I was cared for by the Red Cross. I don’t know where they found me or anything else except that I have prayed all the time to the Blessed Virgin to return my cherished lamb to me undefiled.”
“What kind of soldiers can these be who slaughter old women with bayonet thrusts, who violate young girls and then murder them, who strip and stab young boys, who hang and burn old men, and who subject to degradation and insult innocent and unoffending priests?”
—From the Daily Telegraph.