IN LIÈGE AND BACK TO MAASTRICHT
A GLORIOUS summer evening, quite refreshing after the exhausting heat
of the day. Nature invited to restfulness, and so much the more cruel
sounded the incessant thunder of the guns, which also boomed from the
citadel. As soon as the Germans had taken possession of this old,
dilapidated fortress they proceeded to drag their guns on to it, and
trained them on the surrounding forts.
The streets offered the same aspect as those at Visé. From each house
floated the pitiful little white flag; the people sat together on their
"stoeps," for they did not venture out in the streets. Everywhere I
was again saluted in the same cringingly polite manner, and eyed with
suspicion.
Crowds of soldiers moved through the main streets, revelling, shouting,
screaming in their mad frenzy of victors. They sat, or stood, or danced
in the cafés, and the electrical pianos and organs had been started
again "by order." Doors and windows were opened wide, and through
the streets sounded forth the song "Deutschland über Alles" (Germany
before all other), which affected the inhabitants as a provocation and
a challenge. Oh! one could see so clearly how thousands of citizens
suffered from it, how they felt hurt in their tenderest sentiments.
Dull and depressed they stared in front of them, and whenever their set
features relaxed, it was a scornful grin.
From warehouses and from shops bales of corn, flour, sugar, and other
goods were taken, thrown in heaps and then placed on all sorts of carts
and motors. In the most frequented parts military bands had taken their
stand, and played amidst the loud jubilation of the soldiers.
I walked about a little longer to examine the damage done. The fine
_Pont des Arches_ was for the greater part destroyed by the retreating
Belgians, as well as the _Pont Maghin_. This is a pity, especially as
regards the first-named bridge, so famous as a work of art, and the
more so as other bridges had not been touched and could be used by the
Germans. The bombardment did not damage the town to any great extent,
but it was remarkable that the largest houses had suffered most.
Having walked some thirty miles that day, I began to feel a serious
need for rest. But when I applied, there was no room anywhere in the
hotels, and where there was room they told me the contrary after a
critical glance at my outfit.
I then tried to find the nunnery of the _Sœurs de la Miséricorde_,
where one of my cousins had taken the veil. At last, in the Rue des
Clarisses I found the huge door of the monastery, and rang the bell.
After a few moments a small trellised shutter in the stout door was
opened ajar, and a tremulous voice asked in French what I wanted. I
assumed that it was one of the nuns, but I could see nothing through
that narrow jar.
"Sister," I said, "I am a cousin of Sœur Eulalie, and should like to
see her, to know how she is and take her greetings to her family in The
Netherlands."
"Sœur Eulalie!... Sœur Eulalie!... You ... you ... are a ... cousin ...
of ... Sœur Eulalie?"
The terrified little sister was unable to stammer anything more, and in
great fear suddenly closed the little shutter again.
There I was left! After waiting a while I rang the bell once more, and
once more the little shutter was opened in the same timid manner.
"Now, look here, sister, I am a cousin of Sœur...."
"No, no, sir, your cousin ... is not here."
Bang! The shutter was closed again. But I did not give it up, for I
needed the sisters' assistance to find a shelter somewhere. Once more
I made the bell to clang, and although I was kept waiting a little
longer, at last I heard voices whispering behind the gate and once more
something appeared behind the trellis.
"Sister," I said then, "if you will only ask Sœur Eulalie to come to
this gate she will recognise me, of course?"
"She is your cousin, you say?"
"Certainly, sister. Tell her that Bart of Uncle Henry is here." Again I
was switched off, but the communication was this time restored after a
few moments, and then I heard a joyful and surprised exclamation:
"Oh! Bart, is it you?"
So at last the lock of the heavy door screeched, and I was admitted.
I noticed that about a score of sisters had gathered behind the gate
and were anxiously discussing the "strange occurrence." My meeting
with Sœur Eulalie, however, was so cordial that the good nuns lost all
anxiety, and I was taken inside accompanied by nearly all the inmates
of the convent.
They first wanted me to explain what put it into my head to come to
Liège, and how I had managed to get there; but as the sisters heard of
my empty stomach and my thirty miles, they would not listen to another
word before I had put myself round a good square meal.
In the meantime they themselves had a word or two to say about the
fright I gave them; for when I stood at the door they mistook me in my
sporting habit for a German officer, and the top of my water-bottle for
the butt of a revolver!
The work of these sisters is the education of neglected children, and
they spoke about their fears during the last momentous days. During the
bombardment they stayed night and day with all those little ones in the
heavily vaulted cellars of the nunnery, praying all the time before the
Blessed Sacrament that had been removed from the chapel and taken into
the cellar for safety.
They constantly heard the boom, boom of the shells exploding near by,
and each time thought that their last hour had struck. The gloomy
cellar depressed them still more, and nobody really believed that
there was any chance of being saved. So the little sisters prayed on,
preparing each other for death, and looking for the approaching end in
quiet resignation.
For the moment all they knew was that the Germans were in the town, as
none of them yet had ventured outside the building. At present their
great fear was that Germans might be billeted on them.... Oh! they
might take everything if only they did not come themselves.
When I left I got a lot of addresses of relations in The Netherlands,
and undertook to send a postcard to each of these. They also gave me
an introduction to the proprietor of an hotel whom they knew, in which
they asked him to give me a bed; and thus armed I succeeded at last.
It was high time too, for at nine o'clock everyone had to be at home.
In the hotel everything was dark, for there was no gas in the town. At
last I could lie down on my bed, and had a good rest, although I could
not sleep a wink. I was too tired and had seen and experienced too much
that day.
The next morning at six I was out and about again. I had not been
able to get any breakfast, for the people themselves had nothing.
The Germans had called at all the hotels and shops requisitioning
everything in stock to feed the thousands who had invaded Liège like so
many locusts. The inhabitants practically starved during those days,
and carefully saved up bits of bread already as hard as bricks. It
was a good thing that the night before I had eaten something at the
nunnery, for although at a shop I offered first one, and later on two
francs for a piece of bread, I could not get any.
All the forts thundered away again, and the guns of the Germans were
also busy on the citadel and the various surrounding heights. Already
early in the morning a terrible and suffocating smoke of fire and
gunpowder hovered over Liège. The smoke came down also from the burning
villages, like Bressoux, on the slopes of the hills near Liège. The
flames flared up from the houses and offered a melancholy sight.
German officers told me, with full particulars, how the inhabitants
of those burning villages had offered German soldiers poisoned cocoa,
coffee, and cigarettes, for which crime three hundred civilians had
been shot during the night in a Liège square.
As even high officers told me those things, not without some emotion,
I began to believe them and wrote something about them to my paper.
But what was made clear to me at a later visit! That there was not a
word of truth in the whole story of that poisoning; that on that day
and in that square no shooting had taken place; that a couple of days
before the population had been ordered to leave their houses within two
hours without any reason being given; and afterwards several houses had
simply been burned down.
The Liège people were already up and about, and wandered through
the streets full of fear, for all sorts of rumours were heard--that
civilians were murdered, the town was to be burned down, and that a
start would be made very soon. As they looked at those burning hamlets
yonder they believed the rumours, and went nearly mad for fear; the men
as well as the women could not help themselves, and wept. During the
night various posters were stuck on the walls about military action.
The following is the translation of one of these:--
"The municipal Government of Liège remind their fellow-citizens,
and all staying within this city, that international law most
strictly forbids civilians to commit hostilities against the German
soldiers occupying the country.
"Every attack on German troops by others than the military in
uniform not only exposes those who may be guilty to be shot
summarily, but will also bring terrible consequences on leading
citizens of Liège now detained in the citadel as hostages by the
Commander of the German troops. These hostages are:--
"1. The Right Rev. Rutten, bishop of Liège.
"2. Kleyer, burgomaster of Liège.
"3. Grégoire, permanent deputy.
"4. Armand Fléchet, senator.
"5. Van Zuylen, senator.
"6. Eduard Peltzer, senator.
"7. Colleaux, senator.
"8. de Ponthière, member of the Town Council.
"9. Van Hoeyaerden, member of the Town Council.
"10. Falloise, alderman.
"Bishop Rutten and Mr. Kleyer are allowed to leave the citadel for
the present, but remain at the disposition of the German commanders
as hostages.
"We beseech all residents in the municipality to guard the highest
interests of all the inhabitants and of those who are hostages of
the German Army, and not to commit any assault on the soldiers of
this army.
"We remind the citizens that by order of the general commanding the
German troops, those who have arms in their possession must deliver
them immediately to the authorities at the Provincial Palace under
penalty of being shot.
"The Acting Burgomaster,
"V. HENAULT.
"LIÈGE,
"August 8th."
Fear reigned everywhere in the bustling streets; people shouted at each
other that the villages burned already, that by and by they would start
with the town, that all civilians would be killed, and other terrible
things. The Germans looked at all this with cynical composure, and when
I asked some of them what the truth was, they shrugged their shoulders,
said that they knew nothing about it, but that it might be true,
because all Belgians were swine who shot at the soldiers or poisoned
them. All of them were furious because the Belgians did not allow them
to march through their country.
Fugitives arrived from the surrounding villages, who also spoke of
nothing but arson, destruction, and murder. They frightened the Liège
population still more, hundreds of whom packed up some of their
belongings and fled. They stumbled and fell across the barricades in
the streets, blinded as they were by fear, and blinded also by the
smoke which settled down on the city and polluted the air.
Matters stood so in Liège on the morning of August 9th, when the second
day of the occupation by the Germans had not yet passed. The Belgian
field army, which had bravely defended the ground under the protection
of the forts, and inflicted heavy losses upon the Germans, had to
retreat before their superior numbers, leaving the further defence of
the Meuse to the forts. But a high price had been paid for Liège, for
the German losses were immense, and on the ninth they were still busy
burying their dead. The Germans lost many men, especially near Lixhe
and the Forts Bachon and Fleron.
At that moment the possession of Liège was of little advantage to the
Germans, as on this 9th of August the Belgians still held all the
forts. This was the most important news that I was about to send to The
Netherlands, for when I left the Netherland newspapers had published
the news wired from Berlin that all the forts had fallen.
But the Germans were efficient, for during the night they had laid down
the rails on which in the morning they transported parts of the heavy
ordnance that would demolish all the Belgian defences.
A few minutes after I left the town a scene drew my attention. A lady
stood there with a little girl; the lady seemed to urge the child to
do something to which it objected. She refused to take a bag full of
various small parcels pressed upon her, and clutched hold of the lady's
skirts. I wanted to know what was the matter, got a little nearer, and
was amazed to hear them both speak Netherland. I could not help asking
what the trouble was and whether I might be of service.
"No, no, sir," the lady said. "Oh, oh, it is so terrible! By and by the
Germans will burn Liège and kill us all. She is the little daughter of
my brother at Maastricht, and came to visit us a few days before war
broke out, but now she will be killed too, for she refuses to go away."
"But, madame, you do not mean to send that child to Maastricht by
itself?"
"It must be done, surely, it must be done! That is her only chance of
escape, and if she stops here she will be killed with the rest of us.
Oh!... oh!..."
"But really, madame, that is only senseless gossip of the people. You
need not be afraid, the Germans will not be so cruel as all that!"
"Not? Oh! they are sure to do it. All the villages are burning already.
The smoke suffocates us here. In Bressoux there is not a house left
standing, and in other villages all civilians have been killed, men,
women, and children. Not even the tiniest babies escaped.... Oh!... and
now it is Liège's turn!"
I knew about Bressoux. I had seen the flames burst out from many
houses, and I had reliable information also from other villages about
the slaughter that took place there, although this lady of course
exaggerated when she said that "not even the tiniest babies escaped."
Need I say that I did all I could to make the woman a little more
reasonable, and make her understand that it would not do to let a child
of ten walk by itself from Liège to Maastricht, and least of all in
these dire times. But I could not make her see this, and this instance
proves all the more, perhaps, how upset the inhabitants of Liège were
that morning; they were nearly out of their senses for fear.
Of course I did not allow the little girl to go by herself, but took
her with me. It was a wearying expedition in the excessive heat of
that day. Very soon the child was no longer able to carry her small
belongings, and, though already sufficiently loaded myself, I had to
take her bundle as well. She was scarcely able to walk more than a
thousand yards at a stretch, and had then to sit down on the grass by
the roadside and rest. She did not quite understand what was going on,
but she had an undefined feeling of fear on that long, deserted road,
where we did not meet anybody except some well-hidden or stealthily
moving German patrols who suddenly pointed their rifles at us.
After the explanations required of us they allowed us to go on. The
incessant roar of the guns made the girl tremble for fear, and the
stinging smoke made her cough. After much trouble we got at last as far
as Herstal, where I had promised her a short rest.
This fine large village, actually a suburb of Liège, was quite
deserted, not a living being was to be seen. I entered shops and
cafés, called at the top of my voice, but got no reply anywhere. I was
inclined to believe that everybody had fled. And they would have been
quite right too, for huge columns of smoke rose up from the heights
around the place, four or five in a row, after a booming and rolling
peal like thunder had seemed to rend the sky.
The German artillery had taken up their positions here, and bombarded
the forts in their immediate neighbourhood. These did not fail to
answer, and rained shells on the enemy's batteries. One heard their
hissing, which came nearer and nearer, until they fell on the slopes
or the tops of the hills and burst with a terrific explosion. Many a
time we saw this happen only a few hundred yards away. Then the air
trembled, and I felt as if my legs were blown from underneath me.
Broken windows too fell clattering on the "stoeps."
We entered another café, and once more I shouted for the inhabitants
at the top of my voice. At last I heard a feeble sound somewhere in
the hall, which I entered, but as I saw no one there, I called out
once more. Then I heard distinctly, and knew whence the answer came. I
opened a door, behind which stairs led to the cellar, and from there I
was at last able to speak to some of the Herstal people. I heard that
all of them stayed in their cellars for fear of the bombardment.
My request to allow the child to stay at the café for half an hour was
granted, and I went through the village towards the place whence the
German batteries sent their destructive fire. At last I got as far as
the top of a hill, from which I could see two forts shrouded in a cloud
of smoke, which was also the case with the German batteries.
I could not stop there long, for I was actually within range. I saw a
number of shells explode and twice hit a farmhouse, which was destroyed
for the greater part. So I returned as quickly as possible to my little
protégée, and went on with her, following the road as far as the canal,
and then along this to Maastricht.
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.