On one of the hills, slightly to the south of Haccourt, on the west bank of the Meuse and the canal, a German battery was firing at Fort Pontisse. The gunners there were quite kind, and they felt no fear at all, for although they shelled the fort continuously, it seemed that nothing was done by way of reply to their fire. The shells from the fort flew hissing over our heads, in the direction of Lixhe, which proved that Fort Pontisse was still chiefly busy with the pontoon-bridge at that place.
Until now we had walked along the right bank of the canal, until we crossed one of the many bridges. The little girl was well-nigh exhausted; from time to time I gave her a rest, and then again I carried her a part of the way.
A good many soldiers were lying round about the high cement factory of Haccourt. The factory itself seemed to be used as a station for observations, for suddenly a voice roared from a top window: "Stop those people!" And we were stopped and taken to a small table where three officers were sitting drinking wine. The colonel asked for my papers, which he did not consider sufficient, as I had no passport from some German military authority. So I drew out again the bridge-commander's scrap of paper which said that I was permitted to go from Lixhe to Visé.
"Is this then the road to Visé?"
"No, sir, I am returning from there."
"Where then is Visé?"
"That way, sir!"
"That way? But how did you get here then?"
"You see, sir, the bridge across the Meuse has been destroyed, and in order to get back I had to walk first towards ... towards ... Liège ... and ... and ... and then they ferried me over somewhere down there, and told me that I had to go along the canal to get to Maastricht."
"Is that so? Well, it is not very clear! And that little girl?"
"That is a Netherland girl, sir, who was staying at her aunt's at Liège ... I mean to say at Visé, and whom I take now with me to Maastricht."
The officer went on shaking his head at my answers, and I felt as if this might be the end of my fine little adventure. But I could not tell him that I had gone to Liège with that permit for Visé!
At Fort Pontisse or Lierce they seemed to have noticed that the factory was a station for observation. As the officer was still thinking about my case, one of those infernal monster shells crashed down among a group of soldiers, only some yards away. Those who were not hit ran away, but they came back soon, and took up seven or eight comrades, whom they carried into the factory. I shuddered when I saw what had happened, and through the shock the sight gave me I involuntarily jerked my arms.
"Stand still!" the officer thundered.
He looked for a moment at the spot where the deaths happened, from which the victims were carried away, and then suddenly asked in a kinder tone of voice:
"Is there any further news about the war in The Netherlands?"
I saw that I must take advantage of his changed mood and his curiosity, and I hastened to reply:
"Yes, that the French are advancing towards Liège, and that the British have landed in Belgium."
"What?"
"It is as I tell you!"
"But are you sure? Where are the French now, and where did the British land?"
"Well, all the Netherland papers have extensive official reports about it. The French are now at Namur and the British landed troops at Ostend...."
"Wait! wait! wait!"
Quickly he summoned an orderly and gave some orders, and a few minutes later four more officers drew round the table, on which a large map of Belgium was displayed. Their tone became at once charmingly sweet and kind, and a soldier offered me some lemonade from small bottles kept cool in a basin filled with cold water.
I did not feel very comfortable after what had happened to those soldiers who lost their lives so cruelly sudden, or in any case had been seriously wounded, while the officers took little notice of them. But it was desirable to behave as discreetly as possible, and so to get a permit to Maastricht.
I had to repeat everything about the advance of the French and the landing of the British, whilst they followed my story on the map. But I was soon in a cold sweat, for of course I knew practically nothing, neither of the French nor of the British, and each time when one of the officers pressed for details I was in mortal fear that I might contradict myself. But I stuck to my guns until the end, and assured them that the French had crossed the Belgian frontier near Givet, and were now near Namur, whereas the British, disembarking at Ostend, had advanced as far as Ghent.
As soon as they had got all the information they required, the commanding officer ordered a patrol of cyclists of six men to leave their kit and rifles behind, but to take a Browning, and deliver a rapidly written letter at Liège.
They were now very friendly, and spoke even with great kindliness about the Netherlanders in general. They let me proceed also on my way to Maastricht, giving me their best wishes.
My little protégée was, however, soon very tired and complained that her feet ached. I had to carry her for nearly a mile and a half before we arrived at the Netherland Custom House, where I left her behind, as she was now safe. I went on to Maastricht alone, wired to my paper, and then saw the worried, but soon extremely happy parents of the little girl. They went at once to the Netherland frontier to take their child home.
I had succeeded. I had been in Liège, the first foreign journalist who got there after her fall, and was able to contradict the numerous reports about the conquest of the forts which had made the round of the newspapers for several days.
During the fights round the forts I made a good many tours and was able to contradict several German reports about alleged successes. The atrocities in the villages around Liège did not cease, and constantly fresh crowds of refugees came to Maastricht.
In order to examine once more the state of affairs around Liège, I decided to pay another visit to that town.
Starting in the early morning of August 15th, I arrived at Visé without much trouble, after having been led across the Lixhe bridge once more. Since my first visit the bridge had been destroyed three times over, and this new one seemed very weak. As I stood there looking at it, a motor lorry had to cross it, and the bridge gave way near the bank. Another motor had then to pull the lorry up to the top of the bank, and this made the bridge give way still further.
For the rest the transports were not much troubled now, for obviously the bridge was no longer the objective of the Belgian guns. At Visé I was even told that Fort Pontisse had just been taken and only Lierce could harass the troops, who, after crossing the bridge, advanced towards Tongeren.
Many things had happened at Visé since my first visit. Under the pretext that the church spire could indicate to Fort Pontisse in which direction to shoot, paraffin had been poured over church and spire and fire set to them. It was a venerable ancient structure, built ten centuries ago, the fine stained windows of which were well known.
The inhabitants looked upon the church as a special sanctuary, as the bones of St. Hadelin were kept there. Before the fire these relics had been removed to the vicarage secretly, and then to St. Hadelin College, the only large building that escaped the general destruction next day.
Immediately after the church was set on fire, the dean was arrested, as well as the burgomaster and five reverend sisters. These last-mentioned had been in prison a fortnight, when at last the Germans discovered that the little sisters were of German nationality. The Very Reverend Dean had been treated very badly during his captivity.
There was dire want in the little town, for the Germans had been requisitioning everything until there was nothing left. And as during the first days of the war all traffic had been stopped, it was impossible to bring in fresh supplies. The pieces of bread the people still had were like bricks, and several days old; and yet I could not get any of it.
But the German troops had ample provisions for themselves, and as an officer noticed that I went all over the town to find some food in one of the restaurants, he offered me, the "friendly" Netherlander, something to eat at the Guard House. This I declined, however, for I could not have enjoyed bread taken from the starving population.
There was still a real reign of terror, and constantly the town-crier's bell was heard in the streets, informing the people that the victors required something or other. Only a few days ago it was announced that all bicycles had to be delivered at the bridge within twenty-four hours. Any person who after that time was found in possession of such a vehicle would be shot, and his house burned down. With similar threats all arms were requisitioned, but with the explicit addition that this referred also to old, and broken arms, or those which had been taken to pieces. Eatables and drinkables were also constantly claimed under threats of arson.
From Visé I went again across the Meuse to the road along the canal. Nearing Haccourt, I noticed that Fort Pontisse was actually silent, but Lierce still in full action. The Germans had mounted long-range guns on the hills between Lancey and Haccourt, whence they could place Fort Lierce under fire. A German officer, after some coaxing, allowed me to witness the operations for a short time. I found a place near some heavy guns, and sat down amid some underwood. The shooting from Lierce was very fierce, but only by the plumes of smoke could I tell whereabouts the fort might be. The shells came down near us, but during the half hour of my stop not one made a hit. They all fell short of us.
It was a cruel sight. At a tolerably quick pace hundreds of soldiers marched out in the direction of the fort, dragging light ordnance with them. One of the officers explained to me that the big guns could not yet operate here; and now a division of foot-artillery was commanded to occupy a small hill near the fort. The big guns had to support them on the way. The guns roared as if all the thunderbolts of heaven had been flung into space. The smoke of the powder poisoned the air and made me cough. Gradually my surroundings were enveloped in a thin haze, which became denser and more suffocating the longer the guns roared. And at last those hundreds of men, dragging their guns along the byways, looked merely like shades.
For quite a quarter of an hour they seemed to proceed successfully, as obviously not one shell exploded in their neighbourhood. But suddenly all along their line dark masses several yards high rose up. This was the effect of numerous exceedingly well-aimed shells on the dry, loose sand. Soon the men were surrounded by those thick clouds of dust, and only during the first few minutes I saw here and there one of those shades in human form tumble down, evidently hit by one of the projectiles. Then I saw nothing for a long while, excepting the thick wall of dust, which seemed to remain standing up, for constantly the shells threw up anew the earth that had only just fallen down.
The dust-wall extended gradually as the distance grew covered by the Germans in their flight to their former positions. But at last we saw the first men emerge in complete disorder from that driving cloud. Some on the right, others on the left, here and there also small groups which courageously dragged their guns with them, as they saved themselves from that infernal downpour.
Five minutes later the smoke had disappeared almost, and I was able to see what had happened on the field in front of me. Terrible! On all sides lay scattered the lads, who but a short time ago started with so much enthusiasm, and here and there a gun knocked over, five, six corpses lying around it.
In front of me, behind me, on all sides, the guns boomed, clouds of dust and smoke filled the air, making it impossible to see much, which made the awe and terror endurable; but after the air became clear again, and the sun shed glowing light on the beautiful fields, it was terrible to think that all those dots in the plain were the bodies of young men, cruelly crushed by the infernal products of human ingenuity. It was agony to see here and there a body rising up, merely to fall down again immediately, or an arm waving as if invoking help.
And by my side stood officers and soldiers raging and cursing. To them came the returning men, blood running along their faces from insignificant wounds, and they bawled and bellowed, and thundered with a thousand curses that they wanted to go back and try again. How ghastly they rolled their eyes in frenzied excitement! Some pointing at me asked the officer who I was, and he explained. Then I had to listen to endless imprecations against the civilian population of Belgium, who, according to them, consisted entirely of francs-tireurs, who all of them deserved to be shot, and to have their houses burned down. To repeat the coarse words which they sputtered out in their rage would only cause disgust.
The officer assured me that a new effort would be made soon, as they were commanded to take Pontisse and Lierce at any price, the seventh and ninth regiment of foot-artillery of Cologne being selected for the purpose.
I did not want to witness that second attack, and, after thanking the officer, resumed my journey along the canal-road to Liège.
Near Herstal the Germans were crossing by the large bridge, which the Belgians had preserved to their own disadvantage.
In Liège things were no longer so depressing as at the time of my first visit. There was some traffic in the streets, and by order of the German authorities the shops had been reopened.
In a meadow east of the city I saw three big guns mounted, the biggest I had seen as yet. They kept up a continuous and powerful cannonade at the forts near the town, that had not yet been taken. There were three of them left, of which Loncin was the most important.
A little farther away they were still busy with Lierce, but excepting these four, all the forts were now taken by the Germans. I stood there for a moment, gazing at these cannon, the presence of which was clearly unknown to the Belgians, for their artillery took no notice of them. Only the day before these guns had started shelling the forts, and on the evening of August 15th they had silenced two of them; but Loncin kept up the fight.
During the evening I was granted an audience by the Right Reverend Monseigneur Rutten, Bishop of Liège. The venerable, aged prelate received me very affably, but he was deeply impressed by the terrible fate that had overwhelmed his poor native country. He himself had suffered exceedingly bad treatment at the hands of the Germans. First he and the other hostages were imprisoned in the citadel, where he was locked up in a small shanty, with a leaking roof, so that the torrential rain entered it freely. Wet and cold, the Bishop passed that day without being offered any food, and, as stated above, was at last allowed to go home.
He told me a good many other instances of ill-treatment, but as I gave him my word of honour not to mention them, my mouth is sealed. He himself was visited a few days later by the German commanding general, who offered his apologies.
That same evening many more houses were burned down, more particularly in Outre-Meuse, although no valid reason was given for that.
The next day, Sunday, August 16th, I was already about at five o'clock in the morning, and soon witnessed some historical shots. In the park on one of the boulevards the Germans had been digging for two days, and prepared a firm foundation upon which big guns might be mounted. I saw one of these guns that morning, and at about half-past five three shots were fired from it at short intervals, by which Fort Loncin was completely destroyed, as was indicated by the terrific explosions which followed the third shot. After these shots I was quite benumbed for several minutes; in all the streets of Liège they caused the greatest commotion, which became all the greater because large numbers of cavalry happened to ride through the town, and all the horses started rearing.
Was the gun I had seen there one of the notorious forty-two centimetre monsters? I should not like to wager my head in affirming that. It was an inordinately unwieldy and heavy piece of ordnance, but during the first days of the war nothing or very little had yet been said or written about these forty-two's, and I did not pay sufficient attention to the one I saw. Only after the fall of Loncin did all those articles about the forty-two's appear in the papers, and the Germans certainly asserted that they destroyed Loncin by means of such a cannon.
But it is equally certain that at Liège as well as at Namur and Antwerp the Austrian thirty-point-five mortars were used, siege-guns chiefly, and these were taken by the German soldiers for forty-two's. These Austrian mortars were equally misnamed in German, French, and even Netherland illustrated papers.
However, the effect of these Austrian mortars was terrible enough. I could not form a correct opinion about them by the sound of the shot; and only those who were in the fort that was hit were able to realise the terrific results. Hence the interest of the report by an officer, who escaped after having been made a prisoner at Loncin. He told my colleague of De Tijd at Antwerp about it. After having related how, during nearly ten days, the fort had been defended heroically and resolutely, he gave the following description of the final struggle:—
"On August 14th, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, the expected storm burst; for twenty-five hours the invisible siege-guns poured their torrent of projectiles on the fort. Flares of fire and dense clouds of smoke belched through the crevices. As the enemy's batteries could not be located, their fire could not be answered. The artillerists of the garrison were then taken to the spacious chief gallery, which offered a safe refuge under its vault, about two and a half to three yards thick. Outside the sentries were watching. In the parts near the entrance it was unendurable; the heavy projectiles from the guns mounted in the town had nibbled away the outer wall, only a yard and a half thick. There were as yet no casualties among the garrison; calmly they waited for the infernal tempest to subside and the enemy to storm the fort, for they had sworn to repulse the assault.
"General Leman, Commander Naessens, and all the officers were splendid in their imperturbable courage. They found the words that went straight to the hearts of their men. These fellows looked more like bronze statues than human beings. The projectiles hammered at the walls and smashed huge pieces, penetrating into the parts near the entrance. The rest of the fort withstood splendidly the hurricane of hostile steel and fire. During the night the bombardment stopped, and then the commanding officer went to inspect the cupolas.
"The larger ones had suffered little; but the majority were jammed by fragments of concrete and steel, which struck between the armour and the front-armour. The small quick-fire cupolas had not been touched by any projectile. 'It is all right,' he said, 'we shall be able to repulse the enemy's attack.'
"At dawn the bombardment started again, but only the front was seriously damaged. The garrison stood as firm as a rock. Here and there the beginnings of a fire were soon extinguished.
"Then a frightful thing happened. The men had finished breakfast, some were sleeping quietly in spite of the thundering noise. The assault was expected to commence during the next night.
"And then the disaster followed suddenly. At about five o'clock a tremendous explosion shook the fort to the foundations; the powder-magazine had caught fire. It is impossible to describe the appalling results of that explosion; the entire middle-part of the fort collapsed in a stupendous cloud of flames, smoke and dust; it was an awful destruction, an immense avalanche of masses of concrete, fragments of armour, which in their fall crushed to death nearly the whole of the garrison. From this fantastical, confused mass, overwhelming clouds of suffocating smoke escaped through some crevices and holes.
"After this infernal rumble, deadly silence followed, interrupted only by the groans of the wounded. The German artillery ceased to fire, and from all sides their infantry came rushing on, their faces expressing the terror caused by such great calamities. They were no longer soldiers longing to destroy, but human beings hurrying to go to the assistance of other human beings.
"German sappers and other military men cleared away the dead and the wounded. They also discovered General Leman, whose orderlies, who had a miraculous escape from death, were already busy in rescuing him from underneath the ruins.
"They were all unrecognisable, their faces were black from smoke, their uniforms in rags, their hands covered with blood. The general was put on a stretcher, and carried outside the fort across the heaps of obstacles; there he was attended to by a surgeon. He had lost consciousness. As soon as he recovered it, he pressed the hands of two Belgian officers. 'It is all over; there is nothing left to defend. But we did our utmost courageously.'
"A German officer came nearer, and, uncovering his head, said in a voice trembling with emotion: 'General, what you performed is admirable!' Evidently these words slightly comforted the defender of Liège, who before long was removed by motor-car to an ambulance in the town."
Such was the end of Fort Loncin, and by its fall the last obstacle was removed by which the undisturbed progress of the German armies might have been prevented. The brave defenders of Loncin did not surrender, but stood their ground until they were buried under the ruins of their own defences. According to information from another source, Lierce had succumbed the night before.
Early next morning I walked through the streets of Liège, dull and depressed, deploring the fact that such clumsy, heavy iron monsters had been able to crush this stout defence and such men. As I reached the Place du Marché, there arrived three hundred disarmed Belgian warriors, escorted by a strong German force. They stopped in the square, and soon hundreds of the people of Liège crowded around them. They were the defenders of Fort Pontisse.
Men and women tried to break through the German cordon, but were repulsed roughly. So they threw fruit, cigars, and cigarettes at them. The lads looked gratefully at their compatriots, but for the rest stared in front of them in dismal depression. Once and again a name was called, as a relative or friend was recognised. Some shed tears.
Whether neutral or foreigner, no one could help being deeply moved. Men and women, boys and girls, pressed once more through the German fence, just to shake hands with someone they had recognised. No wailing followed, but when hands were gripped, with a suppressed sob, they said:
"Bear up, lad! Keep courage; it will soon be different."
And the answer was:
"We did our utmost to the last, but it was impossible to go on."
I could not help myself, but also pressed through the Germans, as I wanted to exchange a few words with the Belgians. This was possible for a very few moments only, in which they told me that they had been firing night and day in order to harass the Germans who crossed the river, but they had to yield at the end, when the Germans put Belgian civilians in front of themselves when attacking the fort.
I was roughly pushed back by the German soldiers twice over. I broke through only to be repulsed again. They got into difficulties with the huge crowd, who pushed through on all sides, bought up the stock of surrounding shops, and threw chocolates and other sweets, cigars and cigarettes, at their boys. Then a bugle sounded, and the Belgians once more were arrayed in files. They calmly lighted their cigarettes, and as the order "march" was given, they took off their caps, waved them through the air, and, turning to the Liège crowd, exclaimed: "Vive la Belgique." Then hundreds of caps, hats, and arms were waved in response, the air resounding the cry: "Vive la Belgique. Au revoir! Au revoir!"
As I felt myself one with the population, I uncovered my head and enthusiastically joined in the cry: "Au revoir! Au revoir!"
When I was half way between Liège and the Netherland frontier, I noticed that the village of Vivignes was burning in various places. It is a beautiful spot, quite concealed between the green trees on the slope of the hills, west of the canal. And the finest and largest farms were exactly those ablaze. The fire crackled fiercely, roofs came down with a crash and a thud. Not a living being could be seen. From the windows of the burning houses small white flags hung, and they too were one by one destroyed by the fire. I counted forty-five farms that were burning, destroyed by the raging flames.
In a café, lower down, near the canal I saw a number of German soldiers, and was successful in having a chat with the inn-keeper, at the farthest corner of the bar. I asked him, of course, what they meant by burning the village, and he told me that the Germans had made a number of unsuccessful attacks on Fort Pontisse, until at last they reduced it to silence. They were now so near that they could open the final assault. They were afraid, however, of some ambush, or underground mine, and the Friday before they had collected the population, whom they forced to march in front of them. When they had got quite near they dared not enter it yet, and drove the priest and twelve of the principal villagers before them. That is how Pontisse was conquered.
Later on I heard the same story from several other inhabitants.
The people had been in deadly terror, and women and old men, fearing that they would be killed, had fallen on their knees beseeching the soldiers to spare them. At present many women and old men, and even strong men, were laid up with violent feverish attacks of nerves.
Only because these wretched people had not promptly obeyed the order of the military to march against the fort in front of the soldiers, Vivignes had been punished, and that morning over forty of the best houses had been set on fire.
I shuddered at the thought that in these days such barbarities were possible. I asked the soldiers whether I was allowed to enter the burning village, but the commanding sergeant refused his consent.
I also asked the inn-keeper whether he felt no fear in those surroundings. But, shrugging his shoulders, he answered: "All we can do is to wait quietly. I do all in my power to keep them in a good temper, give them beer and cigars, and yesterday killed one of my two cows for them. I may have lost everything at the end of the war, ... but even so, let it be, if I can only save the life of my family and keep a roof over my head. But my anxiety is great enough, for, you understand, I have two daughters ... and ... and...."
We had got near the door of the room that stood ajar, and from there came the sound of a couple of girls' voices: "Hail, Mary.... Hail, Mary...."
The frightened maidens were saying their rosary.
The news, that all the forts had now been taken was quickly communicated to the surrounding military posts, and in consequence the soldiers were in a wanton mood. Most of the houses which I passed had their doors and windows smashed and broken, but the most provoking was that soldiers had compelled the people in the cafés along the canal to open their pianos and make their musical automatons play. To the tunes of these instruments they danced, yelling and shouting. No greater contrast was imaginable than that between such scenes and the burning village with the frightened inhabitants around it.
Near Haccourt, by the bank of the Meuse, I noticed a terrible glare of fire and dense smoke. It was an alarming sight, and made me fear the direst things. I considered for a moment whether I should go there or not, fearing that I had already taxed my nerves too much. Yet, I made up my mind to go, and by a side-way got to the Meuse, near Visé. German engineers were busy here laying telephone wires, and an officer stopped me, threatening me with his revolver. It was obvious that they were no longer accustomed to see civilians on that road. After having examined my passport and seeing that I was a Netherland journalist, he became very friendly, and politely urged me not to go farther.
"Why not, sir?" I asked.
"Well, there is a huge fire yonder; everything is burning!"
"How did that come about?"
"Well, it seems that the civilians cannot understand that only soldiers may fight soldiers, and for that reason the whole place has been set on fire."
"Devant-le-Pont?"
"No, Visé."
"Visé? Do you mean to say, sir, that the whole of Visé has been set on fire?"
"Certainly!"
"But ... but ...! May I go there?"
"I must advise you not to, for it is extremely dangerous, but if you like...."
"Very well, sir, then I shall go there!"
One of the first things I have to deal with is also one of the most fearful I ever saw, and I only hope that I may never again witness the like of it.
I have mentioned already the reign of terror with which the Germans ruled the wretched townlet ever since they entered it. Something fateful might happen any moment, and actually occurred during the night of August 15th and 16th.
On that evening the soldiers, rough fellows from East Prussia, had been revelling in the cafés, shouting filthy ditties in the streets, and most of them in a very advanced state of intoxication. At ten o'clock suddenly a shot was heard. The fellows took their rifles, which they had placed against the walls, or on the tables of the cafés, and ran into the street shouting in a mad rage: "They have been shooting!" The most tipsy began to shoot at doors and windows simultaneously in various parts of the town, which made the people in the houses scream, and this excited the mad drunken soldiers all the more. They forced their way into several houses, knocking down the frightened inhabitants when these tried to stop them.
It is stated that some of the wretched people were even pinioned and beaten. Their assailants then stumbled up the stairs and began to shoot wildly from the upper stories into the dark streets, where their own raving comrades were rushing about like madmen. Some civilians who in great fear had come to their front door to see what was happening were shot down.
After this game had been going on for some time, the order was given: "Everybody must come outside." Doors and windows were forced open and broken, and men, women, and children driven out of the houses. They were at once ruthlessly separated. Men who assisted their aged mothers, or carried their little babies, were taken away from their families, and driven away, leaving their wailing and weeping wives and children behind, while the flames from burning houses threw a lurid light on the sad scenes of that terrible evening.
The poor wretches, who expected to be killed at any moment, were driven into squares or the meadows, where they were exposed to the chilly night air, so that several babies perished. Only the next morning were the women and children allowed to leave—that is to say, they were told to take the shortest way to Maastricht.
A number of the men were taken to Germany, the others were kept as prisoners in the neighbourhood, and by and by had to suffer the shame of being compelled to work for the enemy. Amongst them were men who had never done any manual work, such as an aged notary public.
Even a doctor of the Red Cross established at St. Hadelin College had been removed in his white overall and wearing his Red Cross armlet. This was Dr. Labye, who already had rendered signal services to the wounded Germans. In consequence of his detention twenty of them were left in the hospital without medical attendance....
During the night only a few houses were burnt down; the general destruction followed the next morning, Sunday, August 16th, and just as I reached the little town the flames were raging all over the place in a fierce blaze.
I shall never forget that sight. The Meuse separated me from the raging blaze on the opposite bank. The flames roared violently, roofs and rafters and walls crashed down, and the wood of living trees was burning and screeching loudly. I saw but a sea of fire, one glaring glow, and the air was scorchingly hot. A light breeze blew through the place, and made clouds of smoke to whirl through the streets like avalanches of snow. The view down the longer streets leading straight from the hill-tops to the Meuse was very fantastic.
The wind seemed to play with the smoke, rolling dense volumes down the slopes which dispersed only when they reached the bank along the river. Whilst the flames soared high up from the roofs, the walls of the houses stood still erect, and everywhere in the windows one saw those miserable little white flags, symbols of submission, mute prayers that submission should be rewarded by sparing the life and possession of the inhabitants....
I stood near the spot where the ferry-boat used to take people across; but to cross was now out of the question, for any one alighting on the opposite side would be landed in the scorching glare. Therefore, I returned to Lixhe, where I might try to cross the river by the pontoon-bridge, and get to Visé along the other bank of the Meuse.
On the way I was stopped by two soldiers, one of whom examined my papers, and, finding that I was a journalist, revealed himself as a colleague, in ordinary times editor of the Kölnische Zeitung. He shook both my hands quite excitedly, glad to meet a colleague, and, better still, one from the "friendly" Netherlands.
I had to listen to a prolonged hymn of praise of the Netherlanders, who were such sensible people, and the best friends of the Germans; protestations which did not interest me in the least at that moment. On the contrary, it struck me as deplorable that this man did not say a single word of his own accord about the horrible thing happening close by: the destruction of an entire community! He did not seem to attach any importance to it....
As soon as the "friendly" Netherlander thought that he had swallowed sufficient praise, I began to ask questions about the meaning of that wanton devastation, and why it was inflicted on the population! Before answering, he looked round in a casual manner, as if thinking: "Oh, it's that bit of fire you refer to!" And then exploded in a string of imprecations against the population.
It is a lamentable sign that this German, probably well educated, had not taken the slightest trouble to find out the reason for this wholesale wrecking of a town, that the whole affair impressed him so little. "Somebody" had said that those cursed civilians had been shooting, that explained it to his satisfaction, and gave him ample cause for coarse abuse of the wretched people.
How many soldiers had fallen in consequence of this attack by francs-tireurs he knew not; which troops had witnessed the occurrence he could not say. All he did know was that these troops had left in the morning, leaving a small force behind to impose the punishment.
The bridge-command at the pontoon-bridge near Lixhe allowed me to cross, after requesting me very pressingly to make very clear what swine these Belgians were, who fired so treacherously at unsuspecting soldiers, put out the eyes of the wounded, cut off their hands and genitals. When I asked where all these things had happened, the answer was: "Everywhere!" Of course, I promised them to do everything they wanted.
Very large divisions marched from Visé to the pontoon bridge in the direction of Tongres. After the Liège forts had been taken the bridge might be passed in perfect safety. All day long troops came along that road without interruption. I could quite see that the soldiers who were at Visé the previous day, and brought about the conflagration, were gone, for they had left their traces behind. All along the road lay parts of bicycles, shoes, instruments, toys, and so on, everything new and evidently looted from the shops. Very valuable things were among them, everything crushed and smashed by the cavalry horses, the clumsy munition and forage waggons, or the heavy wheels of the guns.
A little farther on a few houses were left undamaged, because they stood outside the town proper. A woman who had remained in her house stood outside with cigar-boxes under her arm. She offered cigars from an open box to the soldiers of the passing divisions. To me she seemed to be out of her mind, as she stood there trembling, her face distorted from hypernervousness. Her cringing kindness was of no avail, for I noticed a couple of days afterwards that her house too had been totally destroyed.
On the first houses of the town large bills had been stuck, intimating that they were a Netherlander's property, but obviously that had not impressed the tipsy soldiers to any extent, for they had been wrecked all the same for the greater part.
The whole town was like a sea of fire. The Germans, who are nothing if not thorough, even in the matter of arson, had worked out their scheme in great detail. In most houses they had poured some benzine or paraffin on the floor, put a lighted match to it, and thrown a small black disc, the size of a farthing, on the burning spot, and then immediately the flames flared up with incredible fury. I do not know the constituents of this particular product of "Kultur."
Nor did I see any inhabitants in the burning town. It was practically impossible to stay in the streets; burning walls and roofs and gutters crashed down with a great noise, so that the streets were as much on fire as the houses themselves. Only at the crossings were any soldiers to be seen, who, in various stages of intoxication, constantly aimed at the burning houses, and shot everything that tried to escape from the burning stables and barns: pigs, horses, cows, dogs, and so on.
Suddenly I saw a boy about twelve years old in one of the burning streets. He waved his arms, rushed madly to and fro, calling for his father and mother, and his little brother and sisters. He was in danger of perishing in the fire, or being killed by the murderous bullet from a rifle. I ran after him, laid hold of him, and in spite of his resistance pulled him back. Fortunately I met a couple of kind, sober soldiers to whom I told the story, and who promised to send the boy away from the burning town.
Shortly afterwards I met a Netherland Red Cross motor-car. The male nurses, who had met me already on former occasions during the war, recognised me, rushed up to me, and forced me to come with them to the car. Here they tried to explain with a torrential flow of words that I exposed myself to the greatest danger by coming here, as nearly all the soldiers were drunk, shot at every civilian, and so on.
They insisted upon my staying near the car, and be a little safer under the protection of the Red Cross. They told me how they had to drag an old woman out of her house, who refused to come with them, and in her despair shouted nothing but: "Let me die!—let me die!"
I could not say or do anything, for I felt as if stunned, and let them lead me where they liked; so they gave me a glass of claret, and that revived me.
A few moments after they went away I went also, and entered the burning town once more. A Netherland family lived in Villa Rustica, and I had promised to make inquiries about them.
As I stood there looking at the ruins of what was once so fine a house, a small group of refugees approached, carrying as usual their miserable parcels in which they had hurriedly collected the things that had the least value. As they saw me they shuddered and shivered and crept closer together. Most of them wept and sobbed, and their faces were twisting nervously.
I went up to them and explained that there was no need at all to be afraid of me. They were able to give me news of the inhabitants of Villa Rustica. The owner had died a few days since, from a paralytic stroke, brought on by the emotions caused by the German horrors, whereas madame, who had heroically intervened on behalf of some victims, was probably at St. Hadelin College.
My poor informants had not yet made up their mind where to go, fearing that they might not be permitted to enter The Netherlands as they were without means of subsistence. I assured them, however, that our conception of neighbourly love and charity was different, and that they would be hospitably received.
I showed them the way to Eysden, and they had scarcely started when a cavalry patrol came racing on, the men tipsy and their seat rather unstable. Seeing the refugees, they aimed their rifles at them and roared "Hands up!" The poor creatures not only put up their hands, but fell on their knees, and muttered incoherent words. The women folded their hands, and stretched them out to the cavalry, as if praying for mercy. The soldiers looked at the scene for a moment, burst out in a harsh laughter, spurred on their horses, and raced on without a word. Two of them stopped near me. I gave them, however, no time for threats, but quickly showed them the old pass to Visé. As soon as they saw the German writing they said: "All right!" and went off.
I came now to the eastern boundary of the town, whence the streets slope gently towards the bank of the Meuse. Here I had an atrociously fantastic view of the burning mass of houses. I fell in with a crowd of dead-drunk soldiers, who first handed my papers on from the one to the other, but as soon as they understood that I was a Netherlander they showed no hostility.
They sang and shouted and waved their arms. Most of them carried bottles full of liquor, which they put to their mouths frequently, smashed them on the ground, or handed them to their comrades, when unable to drink any more themselves. Each of a troop of cavalry had a bottle of pickles, and enjoyed them immensely.
Other soldiers kept on running into the burning houses, carrying out vases, pictures, plate, or small pieces of furniture. They smashed everything on the cobbles and then returned to wreck more things that would have been destroyed by the fire all the same. It was a revelry of drunken vandalism. They seemed mad, and even risked being burned alive at this work of destruction. Most of the officers were also tipsy; not one of them was saluted by the soldiers.
The beastly scenes which I witnessed in the glaring, scorching heat benumbed me, and I looked on vacantly for a long time. At last I went back and called at St. Hadelin College, the Head of which I had visited already once or twice. The building was still undamaged.
As soon as the Reverend Head, Dr. Frits Goffin, saw me he burst out sobbing, and, taking me by the hand, speechless, he pressed it a long time. I myself also was quite dumb. At length he muttered:
"Could you ever have thought ... that ... that ... such ... a cruel ... fate would overwhelm us? What crime did these poor people commit? Have we not given all we had? Have we not strictly obeyed their commands? Have we not done more than they asked for? Have we not charitably nursed their wounded in this House? Oh! they profess deep gratitude to me. But ... why then? There is nothing left in the House for the aged refugees whom we admitted, for the soldiers we nurse; our doctor has been made a prisoner and taken away, and we are without medical help. This is nothing for the Sisters and myself, but all these unfortunate creatures ... they must have food...."
The excellent man went on weeping, and I was not able to console him and did not know what to say. He took my arm, and led me to the large common hall, where twenty wounded Germans lay, who had been hit in the fight for the forts. He went to one bed after the other, and, with tears in his eyes, asked each man how he felt, and inquired, "Are you ... properly ... cared for ... here? Are you?" The sick men turned round, their eyes beamed, and they stammered words full of gratitude. Others said nothing, but took the Head's hand and pressed it long and warmly.
The wounded civilians had been put up in the small schoolrooms. Some of them must soon die. Some had burns, but most of them were hit the previous night during the mad outbreak, the mad shooting of the drunken and riotous Germans. In another room a number of old women were crowded together, who had to fly but could not walk all the way to the Netherland frontier.
Near each staircase stood a blackboard on which the Germans had written that to go upstairs was prohibited under penalty of death. The Head explained that the Germans alleged that light signals had been given from the top storey.
Two South-American boys, about twelve years old, had stayed on and heroically assisted the Head at his charitable work. Dr. Goffin was not allowed to take anybody with him except these two children in his search for the wounded, and to bury the dead. It is scarcely credible how courageously these boys of such tender age behaved. Later the Chilean ambassador made inquiries about them and asked for their portraits.
I also met there a compatriot, who had got permission to go to The Netherlands, but declined to leave. She was Mrs. de Villers, née Borret. On August 27th I wrote about her to De Tijd:—
"Four days ago her husband was buried. As he was addressing the League of Old-Retraitants at Cherath he was seized by a paralytic stroke, which proved fatal. She has no longer a home, beautiful Villa Rustica being completely burnt out, and now in ruins. But she refuses to return to The Netherlands, as she is still able to be of service to the people here.
"In Cherath she saved the life of a good many. As it was alleged that there had been shooting, the priest, the chaplain, a retired priest, eighty years old, the mayor, and several leading citizens were condemned to be shot. None, not even the priest, was able to defend himself, as they knew not a word of German, and could not make themselves understood. Mrs. de Villers, who speaks German fluently, explained that the spot where the shooting was alleged to have taken place was not part of Cherath at all.
"So this brave lady succeeded in getting the sentence of death withdrawn. But the Germans wanted to torture their wretched prisoners on any or no plea. They were placed near the church wall, kept standing there all night, were told that they would be shot by and by, and threatened by the soldiers with their bayonets.
"In the morning sixty soldiers escorted them out of the village to the hamlet Wandre, where the populace was told they would be shot. Should one shot be fired by one of the inhabitants—thus Mrs. de Villers was told—the prisoners would be shot out of hand; if not, they would be released at Wandre. Mrs. de Villers had, of course, secretly warned the inhabitants in time.
"She hopes to be able to render further services to the populace, thanks to her knowledge of German, and stays on, occupying her time with charitable work. A respectful salute is due to this courageous compatriot."
On the same day I wrote as follows about Dr. Goffin:—
"His face, unshaven since ever so long, is quite emaciated, and presents all the symptoms of nervous exhaustion. Once more twenty German soldiers are being nursed in his college, where only once a German doctor came to see them. He (Dr. Goffin) and a couple of Sisters have to manage everything by themselves, and the Germans do not even dream of providing food for their own wounded, although the college is so inadequately provisioned that the Head and the Sisters have to deny themselves the necessary nourishment that they may feed the wounded.
"And how are they thanked for it?
"The Reverend Head has been notified already ten times that he would be shot, and he is frequently being arrested for alleged shooting from the building. This shooting is actually done by German soldiers alone, who are loafing and looting, as I myself noticed a short time ago. The Head took me to a room where an old man of ninety, who had just received the extreme unction, lay dying. By his side sat a broken-hearted little old woman, his wife. This old man had been taken prisoner with other men of Visé, and forced to work at a new bridge. The poor fellow broke down under the strain; it cost him his life."
I left burning Visé deeply impressed by the savage scenes I had witnessed: men turned into beasts by drink, passion, and anger, doing all manner of wrong to the wretched inhabitants; but the impression became deeper by the great contrast: the perfect, charitable devotion of a virtuous priest, a courageous lady, and ever kind and commiserate Sisters. Never have I experienced so many emotions in one day as at Visé.
After taking warm leave of the Head of St. Hadelin College, I continued my walk to the Netherland frontier.
I was scarcely outside the townlet when I met another little group of refugees, probably all members of one family. The mother was being supported by her daughters, all wept, and nervous exhaustion made them totter as they walked. Every moment the mother looked back pitifully at the conflagration which devoured all around, including her slender property, for which she had worked so many years.
From the other side came two soldiers, one of whom she recognised, as he had been billeted on her. Constantly weeping, her face distorted, she sent another glance towards that fiery blaze, looked at the soldier as if reprovingly, hesitated a moment, but then pressed the enemy's hand, sobbing: "Adieu!—adieu!"
Sometimes I felt as if I were dreaming and wanted to call myself back from this nightmare to another, better, and real world. And I thought constantly of the man who, by one word, had given the order for these murders, this arson; the man who severed husbands and fathers, wives and mothers, and children, who caused so many innocent people to be shot, who destroyed the results of many, many years of strict economy and strenuous industry.
The first acquaintance whom I met on Netherland territory was a Netherland lady married to a Walloon, who kept a large café at Visé. Before the destruction she had asked me, full of anxiety, whether the Germans would indeed carry out their threat and wreck everything. I had comforted her, and answered that I did not think them capable of doing such a thing. Weeping, she came to me, and reminded me of my words. The whole business, in which these young people had invested their slender capital, had been wrecked.
I THINK that there is no better occasion to deal with the question whether there was a franc-tireur-guerilla in Belgium than after the chapter on the destruction of Visé.
My opinion on the matter is still the same as when I first wrote about it to De Tijd, and in Vrij België; and from my own personal knowledge and after mixing with the people I consider the allegation that the Belgians acted as francs-tireurs an absolute lie.
Some uphold the accusation on the ground of expressions in Belgian newspapers, collected in a German pamphlet. In my opinion these quotations have not the slightest value. Everyone will understand this who thinks of the excitement of journalists, whose country was suddenly and quite unexpectedly involved in a terrible war, and who felt now that as journalists they had to perform a great, patriotic duty. In their nervous, over-excited condition they sat at their desk and listened to the gossip of refugees about civilians taking part in the struggle. In their imagination they saw hordes of barbarians overrun their native soil, saw man and man, woman and woman, shoulder to shoulder, resisting the invader without regard for their own life. The thoughts of such journalists, whose very own country had been at war now for a few days, were not on severe logical lines; they found a certain beauty in that picture, and I can quite understand how some came to believe in it as a reality, and gloried in it.
That is not evidence however, for how did they get the information? From my own experience I make bold to say with the greatest confidence that these reports came from German sources only, whereas there was not any ground for them.
I have witnessed all the people during the very earliest days of the war. I came to Liège, passing between the forts, as described already. I was in Lixhe when the pontoon bridge was wrecked repeatedly by Fort Pontisse; I stayed at Visé three times before the destruction began, and I was there when the charming townlet was wrecked by fire; and in Louvain I have been dragged from my bed by six soldiers and arrested, when the whole town was still ablaze.
Very well, I have:
But they were always German officers and no others who talked about francs-tireurs, and at Visé, Liège, Dinant, Bilsen, and particularly at Louvain, they constantly pressed me and tried to make me promise that I should write to De Tijd about francs-tireurs and justify the devastations. These stories emanated from the officers and permeated the rank and file; and the men grew fearfully angry with the Belgians, whom they cursed and abused. It also made the soldiers terribly afraid of francs-tireurs, and I noticed many a time that some loud sound from a falling wall, for example, made a whole troop of soldiers jump up, lay hold of their rifles, and hide themselves in an absolute "blue funk." The mere noise made them curse and rage and talk of nothing but burning houses.
In the end these stories of the soldiers convinced even the inhabitants that there had been francs-tireurs, but never in the place where they lived, always somewhere else. They could not believe that the Germans could be so cruel and wreck so much property if nothing at all had happened; and when at length the time came that they themselves were obliged to fly, many of them believed that their compatriots who elsewhere acted as francs-tireurs were to blame for all the dire calamities. But if they had had my opportunity to go "elsewhere" and gather information there, they would have been convinced of the untruth, and probably would have heard the name of their own village as the scene of the occurrence. That was how rumours and reports got about.
Many soldiers, probably most of them, were undoubtedly of good faith, and believed what they related; but the damnable notion had been put into their heads by their superiors. That is why I do not consider it impossible that some places were wrecked on account of alleged acts by francs-tireurs.
I have explained already in the chapter "Round about Liège" that I myself was duped occasionally, for example, by the story of the three hundred civilians who had been shot. To my mind these violent acts at the beginning of the war were part and parcel of the system of frightfulness, by which the Germans tried to scare the population and indirectly the hostile armies, at the same time rousing their own soldiers to anger and fury.
That mad fury was also intensified considerably by the accusations about gruesome mutilations committed on German soldiers by Belgians, who were said to have cut off the noses, ears, genitals, and so on of their enemies. These rumours were so persistent that in the end it was generally believed in neutral countries that these things had happened frequently.
No little astonishment was therefore created by an interview which I published with Dr. van der Goot of The Hague, who did so much excellent work in the Red Cross Hospital at Maastricht. He also had come to believe all these stories, and as everybody always mentioned a large hospital in Aix-la-Chapelle, which was said to be full of similarly mutilated soldiers, Dr. van der Goot went to that town to see for himself. The chief medical officer of that hospital in a conversation stated that not one single case of that sort had been treated in his institution nor in any of the other local hospitals where he was a visiting physician. At a meeting of the medical circle just lately held he had not heard one word, nor had any one colleague, about the treatment of similar cases.
In Louvain I was myself arrested, because a more than half-drunk soldier had accused me of spying and arson! There too I had to listen to all sorts of abuse because I was a franc-tireur. And in spite of all this they tried to extract a promise from me to write against the francs-tireurs!
The history of the destruction of Visé affords also interesting support to my opinion, as previously expressed, that the violent actions of the Germans took place according to a fully thought-out design.
During the early days of the war the papers published a report, of German origin, that Visé had been destroyed because francs-tireurs had appeared. I was therefore not a little amazed when, arriving there on August 8th, I found the townlet entirely undamaged, and even the German military admitted that they had not heard a word about francs-tireurs.
But the inhabitants were treated even then in a most vexatious manner, and on August 14th (the destruction came about on the 16th) I wrote to De Tijd (No. 20457):—
"Visé is under a real reign of terror. The day before yesterday the town-crier walked the streets with his bell, and announced that within twenty-four hours everyone had to deliver his bicycle at the bridge. Anyone in whose house a bicycle should be found would be shot and his house set on fire. Yesterday morning the Germans announced once more that all arms, including those that were old or damaged or taken to pieces, should be handed in at the town-hall within an hour. If any arms should be found anywhere after that, they would shoot the inhabitants and burn down the town. Eatables and drinkables were requisitioned continuously under threats of firing the town, and the inhabitants are afraid of nothing so much as of the possibility that something may be required some day or other that cannot be produced."
Even before that, on August 11th I sent a communication, by post or cable (De Tijd, No. 20353), in which the following is found:—
"In and round about Visé people sleep in their cellars, as they are threatened frequently that the town will be set on fire."
Anyone who, like myself, has been able to see in what frame of mind the people were during the first days of the German occupation, cannot believe it possible that they would even think of taking up arms. They lived in an unending terror, tried to forestall the invader's demands, and, if anything was requisitioned, they searched each other's houses to see whether anything was kept back and all the demanded bottles of gin or claret were forthcoming. There was not one who did not keep his door open as widely as possible to prove his complete submissiveness, and to let the Germans enter his house at any time to check what was to be found there. Every moment I saw men or women run into the street offering cigars to the soldiers from open boxes, smiling nervously and desperately, trying to behave as unconcernedly as possible. During those early days payment for refreshments was accepted hardly anywhere, and people often refused to accept money from me, because they mistook me for a German.
Men and young women in the prime of life sat whole days in a chair, or lay abed, because in the most literal sense of the word they were unable to stand on their feet for fear and terror, caused by the incessant menaces.
And during these first days of the war I had not met a single person who was able to settle down quietly in the existing circumstances, not a single person in whom anger and fury subdued fear and terror.
Is it thinkable that persons in that frame of mind would take up arms and invite the enemy's revenge upon themselves and those near and dear to them, a revenge of which they were so mortally afraid?
And supposing for a moment that the allegations made by the Germans were true, that there had been shooting at Visé for example, then one might perhaps consider the revenge justifiable, but should also expect that they would punish with a heavy heart, conscious that they were inflicting a necessary evil.
Of a heavy heart, however, there was not a trace. In the previous chapter I described how beastly they behaved during the destruction of Visé; how the soldiers drank immoderate quantities of alcohol, and then jeered at the wretched refugees; how they indulged in unmitigated vandalism, and wrecked by hand things of which they knew that by and by would be destroyed by fire.
Children and old people perished in consequence of the cruel heartlessness of the Germans, and in St. Hadelin College they robbed their own wounded of medical help and surgical appliances.
This happened not only at Visé, but also at other places which I visited, more especially at Louvain. And those who read the following chapters carefully will find sufficient support for my opinion, that Belgium is innocent of the base charges and allegations uttered by Germany, which country soiled its conscience still worse, first by plunging the little kingdom into the direst misery, and then by accusing it falsely of crimes which it never committed.