At that dinner I also made the acquaintance of Professor Nerincx, the acting burgomaster. It was a courageous act to assume the government of the town destroyed by the Germans; he did it for the sake of his fellow-citizens, who will never be able to requite their indebtedness to the temporary burgomaster for what he did for them; and most of them do not even know it.
The war is not over yet, and much is still hidden under a veil, but after the war it will undoubtedly be the duty of the Louvain people to twine a magnificent wreath round the three names Noyons-Nerincx-Claes.
The names of many priests will be found in the register of Belgian martyrs. I have mentioned already some who, although innocent, gave their life for their country. During my week's stay at Louvain I heard of other cases. The priest of Corbeek-Loo, for example, was simply tortured to death on account of one of his sermons in which he said that the fight of the Belgian army was beautiful "because it lawfully resists an unlawful invasion," and further for announcing a Holy Requiem Mass for the souls of the "murdered" citizens.
At Blauwput, near Louvain, where, according to the Germans, there had been also shooting, many houses were set on fire and the men placed in a row. It was then announced that by way of punishment every fifth man would be shot. When the Germans counted as tenth the father of a large family, that man fainted, and they simply killed number eleven, a Capuchin.
Very many other cases of martyrdom among priests remained unknown to me, but the various Belgian bishops examined all these events with praiseworthy zeal and scrupulousness, and by taking extensive evidence established the fact that in no case the victims could be reproached with any act that justified the sentence against them. After the war the world will surely be made acquainted with the horrible truth.
The foregoing record of my experiences in Louvain will make it sufficiently clear to the unprejudiced reader that the destruction and wholesale murders were nothing but wanton crimes committed by the German troops stationed there, crimes which it is impossible to justify on any ground.
The duration of the war has more or less surprised me, and I postponed writing this book for a long time as I wished to quote the evidence of persons in high places, clergymen, and educated foreigners. As the war is not over yet, I must omit these in the interest of their safety.
But from my personal knowledge and the evidence referred to, I am able to establish the following facts in connection with the events that preceded and followed the destruction of Louvain.
On August 25th the Antwerp garrison made a sortie, in the direction of Louvain. At the beginning the Belgians were successful, and came within four and a half miles of this town. For a moment the situation became critical, and at about seven o'clock a small troop of cavalry came at a furious gallop from the scene of battle to Louvain, probably to summon the assistance of the garrison.
At that hour the Namur Canal ("Naamsche Vest") was already dark in consequence of the thick foliage of tall trees, and suddenly the wild horsemen were shot at. Several neutral witnesses established the fact that this was done by a small troop of German infantry who came from the station, probably on their way to the battle-field, and thought that Belgian cavalry came racing into the town.
The men stopped their horses, dismounted, and returned the fire from behind their animals. This went on for about a quarter of an hour. Every one was alarmed by this shooting; other soldiers came racing in from the station, and others ran to and fro near that building crying, "A surprise attack!" Some, thinking that the attack came from the advancing Belgians, rushed to the place where the fighting took place, others misunderstood the cry, believed that the citizens assaulted them, and began to shoot at these, and at the houses.
Before those on the Naamsche Vest found out their mistake, the shooting was going on in the greater part of the town, and the excited men, who at first had been shooting at each other, soon joined the rest. Some wounded troopers were taken to one of the convents on the Vest, but a couple of hours later they were suddenly fetched away again.
The whole evening and the next day the Germans went on shooting people and firing houses. It is worth recording that the library was already set on fire that same evening of the fray on the Naamsche Vest; it was burning at eight o'clock.
On Thursday everyone, even the persons staying in the Institution and hospitals, were ordered to leave the town, as it was to be shelled. They seemed to have no pity even on the wretched wounded men. Only the male and female nurses remained with these, of their own free will, determined to die with them if necessary.
The inhabitants were driven to the station, where the husbands were cruelly separated from their wives and several persons were shot. Other men were escorted to a place behind the station, and their wives and children were told that those men were going to be shot. The poor things heard indeed the click-clack of the rifles and thought that their dear ones were dead. However, many returned later, and their "shooting" seems to have been a mere sham.
Great crowds walked the long way to Tirlemont. They were constantly threatened by German soldiers, who aimed their rifles at them; passing officers commanded from time to time that some should stay behind, and others were shot. Especially did the clerics amongst the refugees suffer a great deal; many were not only scandalously scoffed at, but also maliciously injured. The greater part of the Germans showed a strong anti-Catholic bias, in particular against the clergy, whom they accused of having incited the people against them.
This is only a short record of the destruction of Louvain, the truthfulness of which will be firmly and fully established after the war by extensive, accurately drawn up declarations.
Louvain had been destroyed because a crowd of wanton soldiers, who were garrisoned there, who hated the Belgians, and who had been kept within bounds with difficulty, seized on their own stupid mistake to give rein to their passions.
Their commanding officer was the worthy head of such a mob, a heartless creature, who did not show the slightest remorse for the destruction of those magnificent libraries, set on fire by his order.
It has been alleged that civilians had been shooting from the Halls, but when a committee examined the remains in the building with the consent of the military, they found there the carcase of a German horse. They were ordered to stop their investigations immediately, for that horse was evidence ... that German military men had been billeted on the building, and thus no civilians could have been there. This will also be published later in the reports.
The German authority left indeed no effort untried to cover up their atrocious action. Already in a communication from Wolff, dated August 29th, they attempted to violate the truth by asserting that:—
"The houses caught fire from burning benzine, and the flames burst out in other quarters also. On Wednesday afternoon part of the town and the northern suburb were in flames."
They have not been able to maintain that story for very long; the truth overtook the lie.
May all the nations of the world after the war collaborate to compensate Louvain for her martyrdom, see that this city shall be restored to her former, happy prosperity, and get a library which approaches as much as possible the one she lost. The Germans can probably do their part by investigating where the motor-cars went which left the Halls on that wretched Tuesday night, heavily laden with books.
Between two of my several trips to Louvain I made one to Namur in the beginning of September, after having secured at Liège, by a trick, a splendid permit which enabled me to travel even by motor-car.
There was a little more order in the whole district round Liège, since the Germans behaved more decently, and provisions had arrived. The shock, which the burning and butchering of so many places and persons gave to the whole world, had also influenced the conduct of the Germans, and from the beginning of September they made a practice of asking each time when they thought that they had behaved decently: "Well, are we such barbarians as the world calls us?"
In this relative calm the population felt somewhat relieved, and ventured again into the streets. Outdoors on the "stoeps" of the houses men sat on their haunches smoking their pipe and playing a game of piquet. Most of them were vigorous fellows, miners, who did not mind any amount of work, but now came slowly under the demoralising influence of idleness.
My motor whirled along the gloriously fine road to Huy. It is a delicious tour through the beautiful valley of the Meuse, along sloping light-green roads. Had the circumstances not been so sad, I should have enjoyed it better.
I had already been near Huy, at a time when several burning houses shrouded the whole town in clouds of smoke. On August 24th, at ten o'clock at night, some shots had been fired in the neighbourhood of the viaduct. This was a sign for hundreds of soldiers to begin shooting at random and arrest several persons. Several houses were perforated like sieves by bullets, and an entire street of twenty-eight houses, the Rue du Jardin, was reduced to ashes. No civilians were killed.
It is evident from the "Report on the Violations of International Law in Belgium" that the Germans themselves admit that they were in the wrong with regard to the atrocities which were committed here. The following order of the day proves it:
"Last night a shooting affray took place. There is no evidence that the inhabitants of the towns had any arms in their houses, nor is there evidence that the people took part in the shooting; on the contrary, it seems that the soldiers were under the influence of alcohol, and began to shoot in a senseless fear of a hostile attack.
"The behaviour of the soldiers during the night, with very few exceptions, makes a scandalous impression.
"It is highly deplorable when officers or non-commissioned officers set houses on fire without the permission or order of the commanding, or, as the case may be, the senior officer, or when by their attitude they encourage the rank and file to burn and plunder.
"I require that everywhere a strict investigation shall take place into the conduct of the soldiers with regard to the life and property of the civilian population.
"I prohibit all shooting in the towns without the order of an officer.
"The miserable behaviour of the men has been the cause that a non-commissioned officer and a private were seriously wounded by German ammunition.
"The Commanding Officer,
"Major Von Bassewitz."
I was informed further that there had been no fighting for the possession of Huy. The citadel on which the German flag flew had not been put in a state of defence on account of its great age. The old bridge over the Meuse at Huy had been wrecked by the Belgians, but the Germans had simply driven stout piles into the river, to support a floor which they put over the wrecked part, and so restored the traffic.
During my visit I happened to make the acquaintance of Mr. Derricks, a brother of the lawyer who had been murdered so cruelly at Canne, and also a member of the Provincial States. The poor man was deeply moved when he heard the details about his brother's death. I made him very happy by taking a letter with me for his sister-in-law, who was now at Maastricht.
At Andenne things seemed much worse than at Huy. I stopped there on my way to Namur, and had been prepared in Liège for the sad things I should hear. A proclamation posted in the last-named town ran as follows:—
"August 22nd, 1914.
"After having protested their peaceful sentiments the inhabitants of Andenne made a treacherous attack on our troops.
"The Commanding General burned down the whole city with my consent, shooting also about one hundred persons.
"I acquaint the inhabitants of Liège of this, that they may understand what fate threatens them if they should assume a similar attitude.
"The Commanding General-in-chief,
"Von Buelow."
General von Buelow says here that he gave his consent to the shooting of about one hundred persons, but I can state with absolute certainty that there were about 400 victims. We must therefore assume that the other 300 were killed without his consent.
Andenne, on the right bank of the Meuse, was a town of 8,000 inhabitants. When the Germans arrived there on the morning of August 19th they found the bridge connecting Andenne and Seilles wrecked. In the afternoon they began building a pontoon bridge, which was ready the next day. They were very much put out about the wrecking of the other bridge, by the Belgian soldiers, a couple of hours before their arrival. Their exasperation became still greater when they discovered after having finished the pontoon bridge, that the big tunnel on the left bank of the Meuse had also been made useless by barricades and entanglements.
By refusing to pay at cafés and shops the military already expressed their dissatisfaction. Then on Thursday, August 20th, about six in the evening, after a great many troops had crossed the river by the pontoon bridge, a shot was heard which seemed the sign for a terrible fusillade. Guns seemed to have been mounted at convenient places outside the town, for shells exploded right at its centre. The troops did no longer cross the bridge, but spread themselves in a disorderly manner all over the town, constantly shooting at the windows. Even mitrailleuses were brought into action. Those of the inhabitants who could fly did so, but many were killed in the streets and others perished by bullets entering the houses through the windows. Many others were shot in the cellars, for the soldiers forced their way in, in order to loot the bottles of wine and to swallow their fill of liquor, with the result that very soon the whole garrison was a tipsy mob.
It struck me always that as soon as something took place anywhere which might lead to disorder, the method adopted was as follows: first a fusillade in order to scare the inhabitants, secondly looting of numberless bottles of wine, and finally cruel, inhuman murders, the ransacking and the wrecking.
The game of shooting and looting went on all through the night of the 20th. Not a window or door remained whole even if the house was not burned down altogether.
At four o'clock in the morning all the men, women, and children who had not yet been put to death were driven to the Place des Tilleuls, but on the way many men had their brains blown out. Amongst others, Dr. Camus, the septuagenarian burgomaster, was then wounded and afterwards received the finishing stroke by a hatchet.
At the Place des Tilleuls fifty men were taken from the crowd at random, escorted to the Meuse, and shot. In the meantime other soldiers went on wrecking, firing, and looting.
Andenne offered a dismal spectacle. The doors and windows of the houses that were not completely burned down had been kicked and beaten to pieces, and boards had been nailed before the holes. The inhabitants hung about disconsolately, and I could tell by their faces how they suffered, for every family in the town mourned the death of one dear to them.
They all became excited whenever I mentioned the accusations brought against them. They asserted with the greatest emphasis that it was an absolute lie that the civilians had shot. "Even if they torture me to death," said most of them, "I'll still contend that this accusation is untrue."
The German officers, of course, held a different opinion; they alleged that the shooting by the civilians was even very general and purported to be a decided attack on the army. I asked them whether they had found any rifles or other arms at the "searches" of the houses—I expressed myself somewhat cautiously on purpose—for that ought to have been the case if such a great number of citizens had joined in the shooting. "No," they answered, "they were sly enough to see to it that we did not find these. They had been buried in time, of course."
The answer is, surely, not very convincing!
The Germans had flung some more bridges across the river beyond Andenne, which had been used for the occupation of Namur chiefly, and lay idle now guarded by only one sentry. I left by the town-gate without any difficulties; the German soldiers jumped out of the way and stood to attention, as soon as they noticed the Netherland flag flying at the front of the motor. To the right and the left of the gateway they had written in gigantic letters: "Newspapers, please!"
Namur was shelled on August 21st and the 23rd. Many houses were then already wrecked, many civilians killed. On the 23rd the Belgian army withdrew and only some of the forts were defended. This withdrawal of the Belgian army may have been a strategical necessity, but it is certain that the forts had not been defended unto the last. Five forts fell into the hands of the Germans without having suffered any damage.
On the afternoon of the 23rd the hostile troops entered the town, and on that day the inhabitants had not to suffer, excepting from requisitions made. But the following evening it was suddenly on fire at various spots, and the soldiers began to shoot in all directions, making many victims. Before setting the houses on fire, with a liberal use of the lozenges mentioned already, the usurpers ransacked them and removed numerous pieces of valuable furniture. The Place d'Armes, the Place Léopold, the Rue St. Nicolas, Rue Rogier, and the Avenue de la Plante were almost entirely reduced to ashes. With the town-hall many valuable pictures were destroyed. The day following the conflagration they left off shooting at last, but the looting went on for days more.
When I drove into Namur, I found the town comparatively quiet; there was some traffic in the streets, and Belgian army surgeons and British nurses in their uniforms walked about freely. There were many wounded: the German wounded were all placed in the military hospital; the Belgians and the French had been taken to the Sisters of Mercy, the Institution Saint Louis, the High School for Girls, and the Sisters of Our Lady.
When I was eating a little at one of the hotels near the railway station, I was offered the newspaper l'Ami de l'Ordre, which had appeared again for the first time on that day, September 7th, under the Censorship of the German authorities. For curiosity's sake I translate here the first leaderette, published under the rule of the new masters:—
"ENOUGH DESTROYED, ENOUGH DISTRESSED!
"More than one hundred houses have been burned or wrecked at Namur, among them the town-hall, the house at the Namur Citadel, and the Institution for ophthalmology in the Place Léopold. In the Grand Marché and its neighbourhood about sixty have been destroyed by fire. If we add to this the damage done by the bombardment from Friday the 21st until Sunday the 23rd August, and the wrecking of the bridges after the retreat of the army, we may estimate the losses at 10,000,000 francs.
"Industry, trade, and agriculture exist no longer, labour is unemployed, and food is getting scarce, and over this dismal scene hovers the memory of numerous victims, of hundreds of prisoners of war or missing soldiers. During the bombardment of August 23rd one hundred persons were killed outright, or succumbed to their wounds. There are innumerable other wounded. This it is plain must have plunged the town into deep distress.
"It mourns the lost liberty, the happiness, the peace, the brightness of her past prosperity which has vanished for a long season to come, it laments on account of the prisoners of war, the wounded, the dead.... And every morning the brilliant sun rises on the scene, the warm rays bathe town and country, both alike cruelly lashed by the frightful scourge.
"Yesterday crowds of believers prayed for peace, for that blessing which is only valued when it is lost. Let us repeat our supplications twofold, let us increase our zeal. Lord! O Lord! listen to the voice of Thy people who pray to Thee! Be merciful! Give us back our peace!"
Adventures incite to ever more risky undertakings, and we long constantly for more sensation. Such an experience prompted me to an arrangement with Mr. Tervooren, editor of Het Leven, to try to motor to the French frontier.
We left Maastricht, in the early morning of September 9th, with a smart fellow as chauffeur. Louvain we found tolerably quiet, although fearful scenes were witnessed in the search for corpses, which were found in the cellars of many houses.
On that day I saw for the first time in Belgium German sailors and marines, and even an admiral and some officers. At that time the appearance of the naval men gave the newspapers much room for conjectures; it was found later that they were to be used in the attack on Antwerp, and afterwards had the task allotted to them of occupying the sea-board.
I found sailors also in Brussels, but for the rest there was only a little military display there. In this town reigned a certain oppressive silence and the cafés were not much frequented. The Brussels people did not hide their patriotic sentiments, and nearly every house displayed the Belgian flag, thanks chiefly to the strong attitude of Burgomaster Max. Outwardly Brussels had not suffered by the war; not a house was damaged and nobody had been killed yet. Nor was there lack of provisions, as was proved by the fact that at the "Métropole," one of the largest restaurants, I paid only seventy-five centimes (sevenpence-halfpenny) for bread, cold beef, and pickles.
We met only a few Germans on the road from Brussels to Charleroi, and found no garrison except in the townlet Hal. Very little burning had taken place on this road, but so much the more plundering and looting. A woman took us all over her house in the neighbourhood of Brussels, to show us the total wrecking. Small pieces of furniture were generally taken away, but stoves, kitcheners, and cupboards were smashed. She herself had had her face badly wounded, because she had hidden herself in the cellar when the Germans came near, and they had beaten her out of that with their rifle-butts. Many other women were treated in the same manner.
When we came to Jumet, a suburb of Charleroi, and a prosperous place with flourishing factories, we found the whole town wrecked.... Nearly all the houses were burned immediately after the occupation by the Germans, and many inhabitants were killed, of course under the pretext that they had been shooting.
After driving through this scene of misery we entered Charleroi, and exactly at that moment one of the springs of my motor broke in two, which made the car useless. Charleroi seemed worse damaged than Namur. According to an official statement issued at the time, one hundred and sixty-five houses had been burned, among them many on the fine Boulevard Audent, the Saint Joseph Institute, the convent of the Sœurs de Namur, and the adjacent ancient, miraculous little chapel of "Sainte Marie des Remparts."
Probably more than one hundred civilians had been shot, whereas many perished in the cellars. The heads of the municipality and several priests had at first been taken as hostages. Bail of ten million francs was asked for their release, but after much haggling they consented to accept one and a half millions, which sum was forthcoming from the various local banks.
Just as at Louvain and other towns, the Germans indulged in looting and plundering also at Charleroi; and probably this explains why here too the finest houses were destroyed. Moreover, many atrocious cases of rape occurred here as at Dinant, about which town more anon. At a café, where the proprietor unburdened his mind to me, with tears in his eyes, I read a statement in which they were impudent enough to write that they had passed a pleasant night in circumstances described in detail, whilst the father had been locked up.
Charleroi was taken on August 22nd. On the evening of the 21st a small patrol had entered the town, and of these not a man escaped. But in the morning of the 22nd at seven o'clock a large force of Germans arrived and immediately began to burn and to shoot.
On the day of my stay at Charleroi, at about seven o'clock in the evening, there was a good deal of bustle round about the station, many trains from Maubeuge arriving. One of these trains was entirely filled by officers of the garrison who had been taken prisoner. Another carried only wounded Germans, lying on light stretchers, on which they were transported through the streets to the hospitals at Charleroi. Many had fearful wounds, and convulsively held their hands on the injured parts, while others lay still, the pallor of death on their face. Maubeuge must have cost the Germans enormous sacrifices, as for many of the wretched wounded no room could be found at Charleroi, and they had to be taken farther by train, to Namur or Brussels.
German officials told that immediately after the surrender Maubeuge had been set on fire in various places, because civilians, etc.... The reader is by now able to complete the sentence.
After I had collected some information in the town and my colleague of Het Leven had taken several snapshots, we thought that it was time to look for lodgings and to get our motor-car repaired.
We found rooms, but were guarded during the night by soldiers, who walked up and down the landing, because there were officers also staying at the hotel. Their regular footfall prevented us from sleeping a wink, but with the help of some fibs and Netherland cigars we induced them to let us go out, and we went to a sort of smith in a kind of garage to repair the motor-car. We turned up our sleeves and, assisted by the smith's technical directions, succeeded in putting the broken spring together, using stout steel clamps and screws.
Before leaving we went back to the hotel for breakfast. There—it was a first-class hotel—they gave us an apology for coffee, without milk or sugar, and two flimsy pieces of bread, as hard as wood and as black as shoe-polish. I was intensely hungry, and as nowhere at Charleroi anything else could be had, I did my best with the wooden bread and succeeded in washing it down with much chewing and jawing. But the sweet, hard stuff did not suit my digestion, and I felt ill already when at six o'clock we got into the motor-car and left for Dinant.
We could not keep to the main road all the time, for it was forbidden by proclamation to go farther than nine miles and a half from the town, and we should have been stopped without fail.
We first drove through the suburb Montigny-sur-Sambre, which shared the fate of Jumet, and was entirely destroyed by fire. After leaving the town we went in the direction of Châtelet, where we found an immense battle-field. Terrific fighting must have taken place here, for the number of buried was enormous. On a wide stretch of land we saw a great number of mounds, with crosses, and covered with quicklime. On the crosses the numbers are given of the brave who fell there. So I read, for example:—
There were very many similar ones, but I copied only these, because they lay just near the road; farther on there were numerous other white mounds with crosses.
The villages Gougnies and Biesmes had been destroyed also; of the former not one house was left undamaged; but nothing happened to the townlet Mettet. Here we were forbidden to go on, as we were already more than nine miles and a half from Charleroi. This compelled us to leave the main road, and to proceed along byways which soon took us to the Ardennes, where our motor-car rushed along in zigzags.
From time to time the tour became a break-neck affair, as the mountain roads were wet and muddy after much rain, and at corners we were often in great fear of being hurled down into the depth. It was a wonderfully fine district of green rock, although somewhat monotonous after a time, as it seemed that we were simply moving in a circle, which impression was strengthened by the fact that frequently we passed through tunnels and viaducts which were very alike to one another.
I felt very sick, for the sweet rye-bread which I had forced down my throat in the morning did not agree with me at all. At last I felt so ill that I was obliged to lie down on the floor of the car, and it took my colleague all his time to convince me that he did not think that my last hour had struck.
In the end and in despair I accepted an aspirin tablet which he had pressed on me a hundred times, and although I do not know whether it was owing to that, or in spite of it, it was a fact that I felt somewhat better.
After touring quite a long while through this labyrinth, we got at last back to the main road from Namur to Dinant, near Anhec. Here immediately we saw proofs of war, drawn from widespread destruction. The railway bridge across the Meuse near Houx, so picturesquely situated at the foot of a high rock, had been blown up.
Bouvigne, a hamlet near Dinant, had suffered fearfully from the bombardment of that town. Trees were splintered by the shells, the church was nearly a total wreck from the same cause, and two houses by the road had been riddled by bullets into a sieve, and also damaged by shells. On the whole scene of war I have not seen one house carrying so many bullets in it; their holes made the doors look like wire-netting. In these houses the French had barricaded themselves, brought mitrailleuses to them, and defended them until the last. None of those heroes left them alive. My colleague took many snapshots of this remarkable spot, while I collected bullets, fragments of shell, and similar mementos of this warfield.
In order to give the reader some idea of the fearful things that happened at Dinant, I insert here some quotations from the reports drawn up by the Belgian Inquiry Committee about the Violations of International Law, of which I can affirm the truth word for word, because they are identical with the information that I got myself at Dinant.
"The destruction took place from August 21st to the 25th.
"On August 15th a fierce fight took place between the French troops on the left bank of the Meuse and the Germans who approached from the east. The Germans were defeated, put to flight, and chased by the French, who crossed the river. On that day the town was not damaged much. Some houses were destroyed by German howitzers, which were undoubtedly aimed at the French regiments on the left bank. One Red Cross helper who lived at Dinant was killed by a German bullet when he was taking up one of the wounded.
"The next day all remained quiet, the French keeping the surrounding places occupied; not one fight took place between the two armies and nothing happened which might be looked upon as a hostile action by the populations, and there were no German troops near Dinant.
"At about nine o'clock of Friday evening, August 21st, German soldiers arriving by rail from Ciney marched into the town by the Rue Saint Jacques. They began to shoot into the windows without the slightest provocation, killed a workman who was on his way home, wounded another inhabitant and compelled him to call out: 'Long live the Kaiser.' A third they wounded in the abdomen with thrusts of their bayonets. They burst into the cafés, requisitioned all spirits, got tipsy on them, and left after setting several houses on fire and knocking to pieces the doors and windows of others.
"The inhabitants, frightened and perplexed, hid themselves in the houses.
"On Sunday, August 23rd, at half-past six in the morning, the soldiers of the 108th regiment of the line drove the worshippers out of the Premonstratensian Church, separated the men from the women, and shot about fifty of the former through the head. Between seven and nine o'clock there were house-to-house looting and burning by the soldiers, who chased the inhabitants into the street. Those who tried to escape were shot off-hand.
"At about nine o'clock the soldiers drove all who had been found in the houses in front of them by means of blows from their rifle-butts. They crowded them together in the Place d'Armes, where they kept them until six o'clock in the evening. Their guards amused themselves by telling the men repeatedly that they would soon be shot.
"At six o'clock a captain separated the men from the women and children. The women were placed behind a line of infantry. The men had to stand alongside a wall; those in the first row were ordered to sit on their haunches, the others to remain standing behind them. A platoon took a stand straight opposite the group. The women prayed in vain for mercy for their husbands, their sons, and their brothers; the officer gave the order to fire. He had not made the slightest investigation, pronounced no sentence of any sort.
"A score of these men were merely wounded and fell among the dead. For greater certainty the soldiers fired once more into the mass. A few got off scot-free in spite of the double fusillade. For over two hours they pretended to be dead, remained among the corpses without budging, and when it was dark were able to fly to the mountains. Eighty-four victims remained behind and were buried in a garden in the neighbourhood.
"There were other murders on that same 23rd of August.
"Soldiers discovered inhabitants of the suburb Saint Pierre in the cellars of a brewery, and killed them on the spot.
"On the previous day many workmen of the silk factory Kimmer and their wives and children had found a shelter in the cellars of the building, with some neighbours and relatives of their employer. At six o'clock in the evening the unfortunate people made up their mind to leave their hiding-place and went into the street, headed by a white flag. They were immediately seized by the soldiers and roughly ill-treated. All the men were shot, among them Mr. Kimmer, Consul of Argentina.
"Nearly all the men of the suburb Leffe were massacred en masse. In another quarter twelve citizens were murdered in a cellar. In the Rue en Ile a paralytic was shot in his bath-chair, and in the Rue d'Enfer a boy, fourteen years old, was struck down by a soldier.
"The railway viaduct of the suburb Neffe became the scene of a bloody massacre. An old woman and all her children were shot in a cellar. A man sixty-five years old, his wife, a son and a daughter were placed against a wall and shot through the head. Other inhabitants of Neffe were placed in a boat, taken to the Rocher Bayard, and shot there; among them were a woman eighty-three years old and her husband.
"A number of men and women had been locked in the yard of the prison.... At six o'clock in the evening a mitrailleuse was placed on the mountain and fired at them, an old woman and three others being killed.
"Whilst some soldiers committed these murders, others looted and wrecked the houses, smashed the safes or blew them up with dynamite. They forced their way into the Banque Centrale de la Meuse, seized the manager, Mr. Xavier Wasseige, and called upon him to open the safe. As he refused to do so, they tried to force it open, but in vain. Thereupon they took Mr. Wasseige and his two eldest sons to the Place d'Armes, where they and 120 of their fellow-citizens were shot by means of a mitrailleuse. The youngest three children of Mr. Wasseige were held by soldiers and forced to attend the slaughter of their father and brothers. We were also informed that one of the young Wasseiges lay dying for an hour and nobody dared to come to his assistance.
"After the soldiers had performed their duty as vandals and bandits they set the houses on fire. Soon the whole town was one immense pool of fire.
"All the women and children had been taken to a convent, where they were kept imprisoned for four days, without hearing of the fate of their beloved ones. They themselves expected to be shot in their turn. Round about them the burning of the town went on.
"The first day the religious were allowed to give them some food, although not sufficient. Soon they had nothing to eat but carrots and unripe fruit.
"The inquiry also brought to light that the German soldiers on the right bank, who were exposed to the fire of the French, hid themselves here and there behind civilians, women and children.
"In short the town of Dinant is destroyed. Of 1,400 houses, 200 only remained standing. The factories, where the labouring population got their bread and butter, were wrecked systematically. Many inhabitants were sent to Germany, where they are still kept as prisoners. The majority of the others are scattered all over Belgium. Those who stayed in the towns were starved.
"The committee has a list of the victims. It contains 700 names, and is not complete. Among those killed are seventy-three women and thirty-nine children between six months and fifteen years old.
"Dinant had 7,600 inhabitants, of whom ten per cent. were put to death; not a family exists which has not to mourn the death of some victims; many families have been exterminated completely."
When we entered the town in our motor-car, those of the unfortunate population who had escaped from the murderous massacre had already left the town. Between the ruins and the deserted French Red Cross cars we drove to the pontoon bridge which the Germans had flung across the river by the side of the Meuse bridge, which had been blown up. Here we were stopped by German soldiers who guarded the pontoon bridge. In a café we came across a few of the citizens who had remained. These unfortunate people had no home, no money, and no food, lacked the wherewithal to go farther away, and now depended on the charity of the murderers of their relatives. Twice a day they were allowed to call at one of the German stores for a piece of bread, in exchange for a ticket which they might get at the commander's office. The Germans, upholders of morality and "Kultur," saw to it that their victims did not overeat themselves.
Our passport had to be stamped by this same commander, and my colleague had to ask him for a permit to take photographs. The commander would not hear of this, but finally agreed, after my colleague had snapshotted him and his staff in front of the office. Our passport was marked: "1. Landsturm Infantry Battalion, Dresden."
Dinant offered a terrible sight; it no longer existed. On foot, of course, we walked along the place where a large shop once stood, but one could not even distinguish where the road had been. Not one street was left, and the few houses that were saved are not in the centre of the town. On a slope on the left bank of the Meuse there had been two large monasteries, which had been turned into hospitals. They had been wrecked completely by gun-fire, and as if in bitter mockery at the cruel fate, the Red Cross flags flew there still undamaged.
In the centre of the town everything, including the large buildings, had been levelled with the ground. This was the case with the principal church "de Notre Dame," the college of the same name, the "Belle Vue," the monasteries, etc., of the "Frères et Sœurs de Notre Dame," the "Saint Nicolas" and "Saint Pierre" churches, and three large factories, "Oudin," "Le Mérinos," and "La Dinant," the "Banque Centrale de la Meuse," the town-hall, the ancient "Palace of the Prince-Bishops," and all its archives, the magnificent post-and-telegraph office, the large hotels "de la Tête d'Or," "des Postes," "des Ardennes," "Moderne," "Terminus," the hotels "de la Citadelle," "la Paix," "la Gare," etc., etc., the "Institut Hydrothérapique," all houses of the "Bon Secours" Congregation, etc.
The finest view of Dinant was from the beautiful bridge affording a passage across the Meuse with the "Notre Dame" in the background. This church was built just in front of a steep rock, on top of which stood the citadel of Dinant.
Now the bridge is blown up, the greater part of the church destroyed by the Germans, and, had nature not been more powerful than their brutal, clumsy violence, they would have pulled down that rock too. But it is still there, the solitary remnant of the famous beauty of Dinant.
My companion wanted to take a snapshot of this point, but in order to enliven the scene somewhat, he requested a few soldiers to stand in the square in front of the church. Each had a couple of champagne bottles hanging on his stomach, and refused absolutely to accede to my colleague's request to remove them. They insisted upon being snapshotted with those bottles hanging on their bodies! So my companion took this snapshot of "Kultur" in that condition, houses burned down, a church destroyed, and in front of these the grinning and coarse villains, puffing out their bodies, proud of their empty bottles....
As often as I went on tour to collect news on the scene of war, I got dozens of messages and letters, which alarmed people sent to the editor of De Tijd, with the request that they should be handed to me for further transmission to relatives. I took hundreds of them to and from Louvain.
On Monday, September 14th, I took with me a larger number than ever to Louvain.
I observed then already that much poverty prevailed, for in many places I noticed people whose appearance did not suggest that they were accustomed to that sort of work, creeping quietly in and out of hedges, carrying bags in which they put the potatoes picked up in the fields. Naturally they started and looked alarmed, when, suddenly, I passed on my bicycle.
Round about Louvain everything was prepared for defensive purposes, artillery being hidden under straw-roofs, only a few yards away from the farm-houses, and the sentries were very alert. I never saw them before I was quite near; then they jumped suddenly from behind a tree, summoning me to stop by lowering their rifle. In the meadows were a good many newly cut trenches.
Some soldiers were rather friendly when I revealed myself as a Netherland reporter; they informed me with serious faces that in Germany two million volunteers were drilling; that in each garrison-town the majority of the men were left behind as reserves; that by and by they were going to level Antwerp to the ground, if these Belgians would not keep quiet; that after all Belgium proved a bigger job than they had bargained for; that Amsterdam and Rotterdam had been shelled and Flushing taken by the British; that Germany had now sent a great number of troops into The Netherlands to protect her against Britain, because The Netherlands herself had no army at all; and so on and so on.
One of the soldiers took me to the spot where two days before the Belgians had blown up the railway which had just now been repaired by the German engineers. According to his story eighty troopers had succeeded in surprising a guard of twelve and in pushing on to the railway.
Near Corbeek-Loo a strong Belgian force had been able even to reach the main road to Louvain, and there also destroyed the railway, after which they retreated before the advancing Germans.
These minor actions formed part of the sortie by the Belgians from Antwerp. One division marched towards Louvain and occupied Aerschot on Thursday evening, September 10th. On Friday they advanced farther in the direction of Wijgmaal-Rotselair-Corbeek-Loo, with continuous hard fighting. On Saturday the fights were fiercest round about these places, and ended in the evening in a retreat of the Belgians, who made the enemy pay as heavily as possible for their victory, although they themselves had to leave behind a good many victims.
Considerations of space forbid me to relate many of the heroic deeds performed on this occasion, but an exception may be made of the following:—
When I arrived in Louvain I heard of a young Fleming who was then being nursed in a hospital established by the Norbertine Fathers, and had been serving at two pieces of ordnance near Corbeek-Loo. As the army was forced to retreat in the evening his comrades were compelled to abandon the two guns, but he had to stay, being wounded in the leg by a grape shot. The Germans made him prisoner, and tied him to a tree. By an immense effort he succeeded in tearing himself loose, and dragged himself towards a farm-house. At a short distance from this goal he was stopped, however, by a German soldier. The Fleming, putting forth all his remaining strength, gave the other such a tremendous blow in the face with his rifle-butt that he fell down dead. Subsequently this boy reached the farm-house, where he was charitably received. Later on he was fetched away by the Sisters from Boven-Loo, and finally from that institution by the Norbertine Fathers.
The Belgians left also a considerable number of dead and wounded at Wijgmaal and Rotselair. On Tuesday, September 15th, I visited the battle-fields in that neighbourhood with father Coppens, a Netherland Norbertine, born at Lieshout. The wounds of the soldiers lying there were in a most terrible condition, because the Germans forbade the removal of the Belgian wounded before all the German dead had been buried. In my opinion not only a proof of barbarity, but also an admission that the Germans themselves must have suffered great losses.
The Wijgmaal battle-field was after all the least horrible. About ten houses seemed to have been set on fire on purpose; the rest had suffered badly from the bombardment. All the inhabitants had fled as soon as the fighting began. The wounded Belgians had been placed in the large dancing-room of a café, where father Coppens brought them a large hamper full of eatables and drinkables, and whence also he had them transported to Louvain. The food was gratefully accepted, but they were still more eager to get hold of the mugs, as they were very thirsty in consequence of the high temperature caused by the inflamed wounds; often we had to prevent them forcibly from drinking too much.
We passed a dead field-officer who still laid hold of a piece of a flag. When I read that sort of thing in a book, I thought: "how pretty and romantic," but never believed that this would actually happen in war-time. I saw the reality now, and, deeply touched, bared my head, saluting that dead hero. From papers we found on him we saw that his name was Van Gesthel; like most Belgians, he had been killed by shell.
I went on with Father Coppens and found about one hundred wounded, of whom only a few had been taken to the houses. Most of them crept away frightened, but when we told them that we were Netherlanders from Louvain, who came to bring them food and drink, and to take them away to be nursed, they got hold of our coats and refused to let us go.
They drank deep, in long draughts, with trembling lips, and beseeched us not to leave them again: "Oh, gentlemen, then we shall die!" We swore that we should come back, and that later on carriages would arrive from Louvain to take them to some convent or hospital; and, trusting us, they resigned themselves in the end.
Goats, pigs, cows, and other cattle roamed freely through the village-street, looking for food and licking the faces of the dead.
We entered a stable whence we thought that a sound came. We saw, however, nothing but a heap of straw, and a pig which ran up against us near the door. Father Coppens chased it away with a:
"Get you gone, you brute!"
And all at once the straw began to move, a head popped out, and a weak voice exclaimed:
"Ah well, be you a Fleming?"
The poor fellow had hidden himself, being afraid that we were Germans; but when he heard the "Get you gone, you brute!" he ventured to show himself.
"Certainly, my lad," said Father Coppens—"certainly we are Flemings. What is the matter with you?"
We removed the rest of the straw, undressed him partially, and on both his legs the most hideous wounds became visible. Septic process had worsened his condition to such an extent, that the unfortunate boy had only a short time to live. I moved away ... he confessed to Father Coppens, who gave him the viaticum, which he carried with him.
Later on people from Louvain came with carts, which we had ordered before leaving. Thirteen of these carried the wounded away, whilst a German patrol went all over the village, setting everything on fire.
Father Coppens and I beseeched the German commanding officer to spare the houses of some people, large families, who came for shelter to the father's convent. And at length, after long supplications, we secured exemption for a few houses, inhabited by people who could not have done anything in a village which had been completely evacuated by the population, at the beginning of the fight.
In the Hospital Leo XIII, that eager Netherlander, Professor Noyons, did all he could to save as many as could be saved of the wretched Belgian wounded; but as rain and cold had done so much harm to the wounds, amputation of the injured limbs was as a rule the only remedy left.
Never thinking of rest he went on day and night, taking away the poor fellows' arms and legs, and all this by the miserable light of some candles. Gas and electricity were not to be had, the works being idle after the destruction of the town....
Although at first I had a different plan, I decided on Saturday, September 26th, to go first to Riempst—a little walk of three hours each way—as I had read a report in certain papers quoted from the Handelsblad van Antwerpen that the church of Riempst had been burned and the vicars of that parish and of Sichem had been made prisoners.
Arrived at Riempst I found the pretty village church in its full glory and the vicar engaged in performing his religious functions; the vicar of Sichem was also still at home. The only part of the report that was true was that various burgomasters from the environs had been sent to Tongres and had not returned since. The burgomaster of Riempst, with whom I had been imprisoned already once, was being searched for by the Germans everywhere, but could not be found. In several places I heard also that the Belgians were lying in the woods round about, and that something was being prepared at Riempst; but no one knew what. So I decided to go and inquire.
The road was quite deserted, for the people, who live in great fear, do not venture out.
As far as Bilsen everything seemed equally deserted, but quite near the town a couple of German soldiers suddenly came to me from behind a house, and ordered me to stop. They took me with them to the guard, which was established in the aforementioned house.
There it appeared that my papers were in good order, but at the same time I was informed that I was to be taken to the commanding officer at the station and could not be allowed to leave Bilsen for the present. I was escorted through the townlet, which appeared to be entirely deserted; but now and then somebody came to his front-door to watch the latest victim of the Germans being led past. At the station I was pushed without much courtesy into a keep where six other civilians sat, who had been picked up as being at large, and whose faces were now covered with a cold perspiration from fear, because they were firmly convinced that by and by they would be shot.
Three soldiers stood before the open door and amused themselves by provoking these people in the most inhuman manner, by abusing them and telling them that later on they would be hanged or shot. The poor fellows shivered and their teeth clattered. I, the newly arrived "swine," was treated in much the same way, but I reduced the insolent blusterers into the quietest people of the world by warning them that by and by I would ask the commanding officer whether his soldiers had the right to call a Netherlander a "swine." That put some heart into my fellow-victims, and I urged them that they would do best by replying calmly to any questions which the commanding officer might put to them. They actually became more composed, and told me the following:
The Germans had evacuated Bilsen some days ago, probably after being informed that a strong force of Belgians was coming on. As a matter of fact, only eleven Belgian soldiers had entered the townlet. These had pulled down the German flag from the town-hall and replaced it by the Belgian. The station and the railway were then closed to the public for a couple of hours, and in that time they pulled up the rails in two places. On Friday evening the Germans returned in great numbers by train from Tongres, and the train derailed on one of those places; but no lives were lost, as it went very slowly.
The Germans had then taken it into their heads that the Belgians occupied Bilsen and the station, and began a terrific fire at the station and the surrounding houses, although there was not a single Belgian soldier in the whole town. When they had satisfied themselves that this was the case, they stopped firing, and were furious on account of the derailing and the mistake they had made. They then started a wild hunt for the men, and set about ten houses on fire, as also the signalman's cottage, because he had not warned them of the danger by waving his red flag.
They made no allowance for the fact that they themselves had relieved all railway officials of their functions until later notification. The signalman was made a prisoner, but released subsequently.
As soon as they began to chase the men, the greater part of the inhabitants fled in dire fear, most of them towards the Campine. In the fields and the shrubberies the Germans must have killed a good many of the male fugitives, and made the others prisoners. Among the latter were my six fellow-victims.
That same Friday evening the women and children living in the Rue de la Station were told to leave their houses as the whole street was to be burned down. Everybody fled, but the design was not executed. The burgomaster and his son were taken prisoners, and brought to Tongres; later on the son was released; the Very Reverend the Dean was also arrested.
The latter himself told me that he was released in order to instruct the vicars in the eighteen parishes of his deanery that they should inform their parishioners that the whole village would be burned and the inhabitants killed if the railway-line should be broken up, no matter whether it were done by Belgian soldiers or others.
After I had been incarcerated for about two hours I was taken to the commanding officer, Major Krittel, or rather to one of his subordinates, Captain Spuer, who was having a violent altercation with his chief. The captain appeared to insist with great force that the whole place should be burned down and all the prisoners shot. But the major seemed to be a tolerably reasonable man, tried to soothe the captain, and at last put down his foot, saying that he had had enough. The captain, a rude, fat fellow, sat down at a desk and bellowed at me:
"Here, swine!"
I did not budge.
"Here, swine!"
"I am a Netherlander."
"Netherlander? Doesn't matter. Have you got papers? All right. You shan't have those back."
"Then I'll lodge a complaint with the Imperial Governor of Liège, who gave me the papers."
"Swine!"
Now the major jumped up and shouted at his subordinate that he had to treat a Netherlander as he ought to be treated.
The major, sitting at another desk, took my further examination upon himself, apologising for the "noisy" conduct of his subordinate, who had got somewhat over-excited in consequence of the circumstances. He found my papers in perfect order, and told me in civil tones that I should get back my liberty which I had lost in consequence of a misunderstanding, but that for the present I was not allowed to leave Bilsen, as I should run the greatest risk of being shot by German or Belgian patrols, who were hidden along the road. He asked me to call again the next morning.
I availed myself of his benevolent mood and told him that my fellow-prisoners were treated very unkindly by his soldiers, and these people had lost their composure entirely in consequence. A calm examination, I told him, undoubtedly would give him also the conviction that these people had only fled into the fields because they were afraid, but not with any criminal intent. He promised me to conduct the examination himself, and to be as kind as possible. The next morning I heard that they had all been released.
I now tried to get something to eat in the town at an hotel.
"Well, what have you got for me to eat?"
"To eat, sir—to eat? A bit of bacon ... that's all."
"Well, that's all right; and what am I going to have with it, bread, potatoes, or...."
"Bread, potatoes? Nothing. We have nothing."
I went to various other places, but there I could not even get a bit of bacon. So I made up my mind to starve for the present, and to make inquiries here and there about families whose acquaintances or friends had asked me to do so through the editor of De Tijd.
Afterwards I sauntered through the very quiet little town, until I suddenly saw something quite uncommon, namely two civilians who, like myself, were walking about. When I came near, one of them recited a rhyme: