FROM MAASTRICHT TO THE FRENCH FRONTIER
THE DESTRUCTION OF DINANT
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:--
"Here rest 10 soldiers, French, I. Reg. 36.
fell 22.8. R.I.P."
"Here rest 23 soldiers, German, I.R. 78. and
91. fell 22.8.14. R.I.P."
"Here rest 7 officers, German, I.R. fell 22.8.14.
R.I.P."
"Here rest 140 soldiers, French, I.R. 36. fell 22.8.
R.I.P."
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....