ON THE YSER
FROM the pretty town of Sluys in the Netherland part of Flanders I made
a good many trips to the Belgian coastal regions and the Yser, the
little river that will always be named in history, because there came
the end of the German advance, and there the Belgian army displayed all
its power, fighting with the courage of lions in defence of the last
bit of their native soil.
Yes, Sluys will always live in my memory. How well have been received
the thousands of Belgians who went there for shelter and how much
misery have I seen relieved by the effectual mutual help of the
Belgians and that of the civil and military Netherland authorities.
The burgomaster in particular seemed to be the right man in the right
place, and it was chiefly due to his sagacity that everything went so
regularly in that small town, which had to maintain the proportionately
greatest number of refugees.
In Sluys I also got to know by friendly intercourse the character of
the Belgians, so open, so straightforward, and so bright.
From this town I got the best connections with the West of Belgium,
and as a rule I always made my first visit to ancient and pretty
Bruges, which was constantly strongly occupied by the Germans. In front
of the well-known Halls two small guns had been mounted, threatening
the market-square. The same was the case in front of the Palace of
Justice, where the commander's office was established. The Government
buildings in the market were entirely occupied by the naval staff
of Admiral von Schroeder, and dozens of sailors were sitting in the
offices, working at their typewriting machines.
Soldiers came from and went back to the Yser, which river I saw three
times during the fierce fighting.
The first time when the Germans had only been there for about ten days,
and huge masses were sent to the scene of battle, because they had
decided to break through at any cost.
Along the coast the German line did not reach far beyond Mariakerke,
where a big German flag on a high dune indicated their most advanced
front. Thanks to the consent of a couple of officers I was allowed to
push on to the front lines, and did this in spite of the danger from
bursting shrapnel. The wounded had to walk back from there to Ostend,
very often suffering the most trying pains, because, according to what
they told me, the Red Cross Service was not able to help them all. They
were very dissatisfied on account of the waste of human life by which
the attacks were accompanied, and some made bitter remarks about the
staff which seemed to be mad, constantly sending new troops into the
murderous fire with such evident callousness.
I have been able to assist a good many of these unfortunate people by
bandaging the wounds with the dressing they gave me, or getting some
water for them from some house in the neighbourhood; and one, who had
fallen down exhausted by pain, I carried into a house.
I had more trouble with a wretch who, being heavily wounded in both
legs, lay on the top of a dune beyond Mariakerke. He was quite
alone, and when he discovered me his eyes glistened, full of hope.
He told me of his agonies, and beseeched me to take him to a house
or an ambulance. However much I should have liked to do that, it was
impossible in the circumstances in which I found myself. Nowhere,
even in the farthest distance, was a house to be seen, and I tried
to explain the position to him. But he turned a deaf ear to all my
exhortations, and insisted that I should help him. It was a painful
business, for I could not do the impossible. So I promised him, and
took my oath that I should warn the first ambulance I met, and see to
it that they came and fetched him.
I went away urging him to maintain his courage for the time being, but
he had scarcely noticed that I was about to go, when his eyes began to
gleam and to roll in his head; then he took his rifle, which was lying
by his side, and I, seeing his intention, ran down the dune as quickly
as possible, whilst I heard the well-known click-clack behind me; the
man had fired two bullets at me....
I must not take that sort of thing amiss. Who knew with how much pain
and how long he had been lying there, facing death, but fearing it
too. At last someone came near, and he put all his hope in that man,
but a hope that vanished. Yes, I can quite understand that a man in
those conditions goes mad.
I was not able to stay long at Mariakerke, but succeeded, by going
in an easterly direction, to get near Leke, where the fight was also
in full swing, and where evidently the same command had been issued:
"Advance at any cost." The German artillery stood south of Leke, but I
succeeded in pushing on to a hill near the road, where I could see the
columns of smoke of the Belgian artillery and the clouds of dust which
the German shrapnel threw up.
The Germans advanced in a formation which I had never seen yet. The men
went at the double-quick in closed ranks three abreast, each of the
threefold files marching at a small distance from the other.
They stormed the Belgian lines with lowered bayonets. The Belgians
quietly allowed them to come near, but as soon as they were at a
certain distance from the trenches they wished to take, I heard the
rattle of the mitrailleuses, and the thunder of the guns. The storming
soldiers then disappeared in a fog of smoke and dust, in which I saw
their shadows fall and stagger. This went on for about ten minutes, and
then they came back in complete disorder, still followed by the hostile
bullets and shrapnel.
A period of calm followed, but not for long, for again and again new
attacks were made.
I myself was not very safe either, for frequently bursting shells
fell near me. I therefore thought it safer to cross to a farm-house
a hundred yards farther on, where I might find shelter. Before I got
there an officer of a passing division took me violently by the arm
and asked who I was and what I was doing there? His eyes glittered
savagely, and he as well as his men seemed to be fearfully excited.
I said in a few words who I was, and showed one of my German permits.
He had scarcely seen the many German stamps on it when he let me go
and went on with his men. I then pinned on my coat two permits which
had the greatest number of stamps, and in consequence had no further
trouble.
From the garret-window of the farm-house I followed the fierce battle
for another half-hour, and saw that the Germans suffered enormous
losses, but achieved no gains. At last I had to leave this place too,
because shells fell again quite near to the house. I stayed another ten
minutes near an ambulance, where they were quite unable to attend to
the numerous wounded men. Most of them got an emergency dressing, and
were advised to go higher up and try to get better attention there.
The battle I saw that day on the Yser was the beginning of the
trench-war in that district. Many Belgian troops had dug themselves
in, and later on this system was extended, in consequence of which the
Belgian line there became impregnable.
In those days German Headquarters gave continuously the thoughtless
order: "To Calais, to Calais," and the Staff considered no
difficulties, calculated no sacrifices, in order to achieve success.
What these frenzied orders have cost in human lives History will tell
later on.
* * * * *
As soon as the Germans were near the coast they began to fortify it
most formidably, in order to prevent eventual attempts at landing by
hostile troops. Guns were soon mounted in the dunes, as I noticed
during a trip which I made along the coast on Sunday, October 25th.
Heyst was occupied by a small division of marines, although a few
days before the garrison had been larger, but on Saturday evening
all soldiers along the coast had been alarmed, and most of them were
ordered to proceed to the battle-field near Nieuwpoort, where matters
were at the time less favourable for the Germans. Near the dyke I found
five pieces of ordnance mounted, their mouths turned towards the sea,
and that they were quite right in taking precautions was proved by the
men-of-war riding on the distant horizon, without motion.
In the centre of the town I was detained by three sailors, who called
out an angry "Halt!" seized my bicycle, and made me a prisoner,
"because I was an Englishman." Happily I could prove the contrary by my
papers; and the permit of the Bruges commander to go about on a bicycle
made them return it.
There was a general complaint in that district about the very arbitrary
requisitions: for example, beds and blankets were extensively taken
away from the convents, a thing against which the burgomaster of
Bruges had already protested. Horses, cows, and other cattle were
simply taken from the stables and the meadows, and paid for with paper
promises.
At Zeebrugge the conditions were not alarming. The houses of those who
had gone away, however, had been damaged most terribly, and looted.
Round the harbour guns were mounted, guarded by many sentries. I was at
first forbidden to cross the canal bridge, but my excellent credentials
at length made the sentries give in. Everything indicated that already
during the first days of the occupation the Germans had begun to
execute their plan to turn Zeebrugge into a station for submarines.
The commander ruled with a strong hand. They issued not only the usual
proclamations about introducing German time, but the commander went
even so far as to dictate at what hour the Holy Masses had to be said.
In one of the proclamations I read, for example, that in future the
Mass of six o'clock, Belgian time, had to be said at the same hour
German time. Another proclamation said that skippers were forbidden to
sail, and that all boats, including fisher-boats, had been seized.
In the dunes near Ostend I came across a level field fenced off by the
military, and in the centre I saw a large company of superior officers,
and a marine band. They were arranged round three big caves, into
which just then had been lowered nine military officers and ordinary
soldiers, who died in the nearly completed new Military Hospital of
Ostend in the neighbourhood.
With a powerful voice, in order to drown the roar of the guns, a
German parson delivered the funeral oration, in which he spoke of the
heroic conduct of the fallen men, who had sacrificed their lives for
God, Kaiser, and Fatherland, and who, by God's inscrutable decree,
were not destined to witness the final victory of the powerful German
armies. The marines put their instruments to their mouths and played a
slow funeral march. It was really very touching, and all the spectators
came under the impression.
Whilst yet the sweet strains of the music sounded over the dunes, the
dull booming of the heavy field-artillery was heard constantly, and
each boom meant the end of so many more human lives. The music went
on, and the officers approached one after the other to throw a handful
of sand on the corpses of their fallen comrades. I saw their nostrils
tremble, saw them bite their lips nervously, saw tears in their eyes.
The ceremony wound up with a short silent prayer offered at the request
of the parson.
The funeral had deeply moved me, and full of emotion I approached the
edge of the graves. I saw three corpses in each of them, simply wrapped
in a clean, white sheet. The only decorations were some green palm
branches ... the branches telling of peace.
A little farther on I discovered a good many other mounds. A cross made
of two little pieces of wood stood on each, amongst pots with flowers
and small posies. On one of the crosses I saw written in pencil--
"Captain Count Von Schwerin, 19. 10.'14."
It was very interesting, because a humble private had been buried by
his side.
Of course I did not know this Count von Schwerin, but because I had
just witnessed that funeral, and because it was so striking that men of
every class were buried in the same manner, I reported what I saw to my
paper. And, tragic fate, in consequence of this, the wife of the late
Count heard for the first time of the death of her husband to whom she,
a Netherland baroness, had been married at the beginning of the war. At
the request of the family I made arrangements so that the grave might
be recognised after the war.
In Ostend every place was full of wounded men, who all came walking
from the battle-field in groups. Even in those days the fierce fights
continued in consequence of the mad attempts to conquer Dunkirk and
Calais. Great losses were suffered also by the enormous effect of the
British naval guns, against which the German marines had mounted big
guns in Ostend and farther along the coast, in order to keep the fleet
at a distance.
On the day of my visit to Ostend all sorts of conveyances had taken
more than 3,000 wounded into the town. Peasants from the neighbourhood
were compelled to harness their horses and transport the unfortunate
men. Such a procession was distressing to look at, as most men lay
on open carts, only supported by a handful of newly cut straw, and
long processions entered the town continuously. As reinforcements had
arrived, the divisions of the German army which had suffered most came
sometimes from the front to the town, in order to have a rest, and
then I saw a great deal of misery.
Some of the soldiers were furious and others distressed on account
of the great number of comrades left on the battle-field, while they
hardly made any progress against the tenacity of the Allies. Those who
were not seriously wounded were not even put up in hospitals or similar
buildings, as there was only room for a few, although many private
houses had been turned into supplementary hospitals. In the streets and
the cafés I saw therefore hundreds of men in bandages.
The condition of the civilian population was not too roseate. Most
of them were away, and from those who had stayed everything was
requisitioned. Staying in the town was not without danger, for two days
before my visit it had been bombarded from noon to one o'clock by the
British fleet, by which an hotel on the boulevard and some houses in
the Rue des Flamands had been damaged.
From Ostend I went a few days later to Thourout, a townlet to the north
of the centre of the Yser-line. I was accompanied by two Netherland
colleagues whom I had met at Bruges. Everything was quiet there; the
commander of the naval region, Admiral von Schroeder, had made himself
slightly ridiculous, by informing the population in a proclamation that
he had ordered the British citizens in the coastal region to leave the
country, in order to protect them from their fellow-countrymen of the
British fleet, who, by bombarding Ostend, had endangered their lives.
As we left through the Gate-of-Bruges towards Thourout we were
approached by a small military group, a few German soldiers who
escorted about a dozen French and Belgian prisoners of war. Until that
moment the street had been relatively quiet, but the inhabitants had
scarcely heard that the "boys" came, when each ran into the street,
forgetting all fear of the "Duuts," and, breaking through the escort,
they gave their "boys" an apple, or a pear, or a packet of cigarettes;
so we saw a huge round of white bread fly through the air and land in
the hands of one of the "boys." Such a thing touches one always, and
even the escorting Germans, who at first were very indignant on account
of the sudden and unexpected intrusion, left the citizens alone with a
generous gesture, as to say: "Well, have your way."
The other eleven miles of the road to Thourout were quite deserted, and
only in one place did I see a man working in the field. We only saw
now and again a small escort which overtook us. From afar a trooper
approached us; after having heard who we were, he told us that he had
been on the way already three days and three nights from the trench
lines, and how fierce the fighting was there. The German losses had
been immense; he pointed to the unoccupied horse by his side, and said:
"My chum, whose horse this was, fell also." He took a couple of strong
pulls at his pipe, and, spurring his mount, rode off with a: "Keep
well."
At Thourout all convents and large buildings had been turned into
hospitals, and the streets on both sides were full of big wagons.
Hundreds of soldiers went off, and large convoys of carts were
standing in the meadows and on the roads, where officers and men were
also practising riding. We were here in the rear, where there was a
continuous going and coming from the front. Most soldiers were in a
more or less excited mood; some did not hide their discontent, or sat
musing dejectedly, asking themselves how these terrible days would
end for them? Others again seemed to have got into a sort of frenzy
in consequence of the continuous fighting and were not able to think
logically at all. They told excited stories about the British whom they
had killed, and chased away from the 42 c.m. guns, who, according to
them, were also at work in the swampy soil near Nieuwpoort, and also
told about the shooting civilians, and those cursed Belgians, who cut
open the bellies of their poor wounded, or sliced off their noses,
hands, and ears. Of course pure fairy tales, but recited with much
power of conviction.
The question of lodgings brought also many difficulties, for nobody
wanted to, or could put us up. At last we succeeded at the Hôtel
l'Union, where we first ate two roasted pigeons which were intended for
a couple of officers, who would return in the evening from the front
line. The three of us subsequently occupied one room, after having
written on the door with chalk that Lieutenants So and So were staying
there. For the landlady had told us that she was willing to put us up,
but that the officers who returned every night from the front line were
sure to turn us out. Indeed in the evening we heard heavy steps before
our door, but after a voice had read out that Lieutenants So and So
were passing the night there, they all went away again.
The next morning the roar of the cannon woke us up, and soon we heard
how the fighting stood, for when we went to the commander for a permit
to go to Dixmuiden, the sympathetic major absolutely refused it, and
haltingly added that he himself did not yet know how things stood
there. Well, that was enough for us. At last he gave us a permit for
Ostend, and we noticed very soon that now we were in the rear of the
front. Whilst the guns were thundering on continuously and the shrapnel
exploded in the air, we passed continuously large contingents, who
actually formed one long line. The fight was going on only a few
miles away, and incessantly the unhappy wounded came out of the small
bypaths, stumbling on in their heavily muddied clothes.
At the "Oud Slot van Vlaanderen," a large, ancient castle, there was a
lot of hustle and bustle of carriages and motor-cars. We had not gone
another two hundred yards, when someone came after us and stopped us as
suspects. We were escorted back to the castle, where a general command
was established, and an aviators-division, with the motor-section
attached to it. Happily our detention did not last long, and after
examination we were released. On the road was an infernal noise, as
the violent roar of the cannon was mixing with the roar of the wheels
of the heavily-loaded convoys and the whirr and hooting of the army
motors. Long processions of field-kitchens passed us also, most of them
brand-new; but it was remarkable that all carts arranged for a team of
two were drawn with great difficulty by only one horse, and also that
so many civilians have been compelled to act as drivers, or to gather
the wounded.
Constantly new and large transports of wounded came along the road, and
here and there they were busy killing and burying wounded horses. The
inhabitants locked themselves in their houses, and expected with great
fear that any moment the military might arrive to claim their last
horse or cow. The requisitions went on continuously, and the cattle
were driven to the front in a long, desolate procession.
As we went on towards Eerneghem French aviators were heroically
reconnoitring above the German lines. One came from Dixmuiden and one
from Nieuwpoort; both went to about half-way between these two towns,
where the centre of the battle was. The Germans kept up an unbroken
artillery fire at those birds in the air. I saw quite near to them
shells exploding right and left and discharging dense, black clouds
of smoke that disappeared slowly. There were moments when these black
stretches of cloud seemed to form a frame round the aeroplanes, but the
brave aviators knew how to escape from their assailants by all sorts of
tricks. They came down to go up again unexpectedly, entirely changed
their direction a moment later, and at last both disappeared undamaged.
At Eerneghem we were not only stopped, but also sent back outright.
It was considered extremely impudent on our side that we had dared to
push on so far, because we were in the fighting-line. Even the permit
given by the commander of Thourout was of no avail.
Back at Bruges we attended in the market the concert given by a
German military band near the statues of Breydel and de Koninck. At
the commander's office I witnessed a remarkable incident. A German
post-official and a soldier had just brought in a decently dressed
gentleman. The postman began to relate that he was taking away the
telephone instrument at that gentleman's house in order to fix it up at
the commander's office, and that the gentleman had said: "Why do you
steal that instrument?" As the postman said this the commander jumped
up in a fury, and called out:
"What? What? Do you dare to call it stealing, what we Germans take here
in Bruges?"
"Sir, I do not understand German, but----"
"Not a word, not a word; you have insulted a German official, and
according to the proclamation you know that that is severely punished.
You are my prisoner."
As he said this the commander put his hand roughly on the shoulder of
the trembling man, who again said in French:
"I have not used the word 'steal' at all, but let me explain the
matter."
"There is nothing to explain. Officer, you can take your oath on it?"
"Certainly, captain."
"Well"--this to a private--"you call the patrol; this man must be
arrested."
The unhappy man bowed his head trembling, and with dull resignation he
left the office, strongly escorted.
The man who had this experience was Mr. Coppieters, the District
Commissioner, a man who had given all his life to the service of
society and the good of the community.
Happily the burgomaster intervened, and, as I heard later, got him
released.
* * * * *
These are some of the things I could tell about my trips in the West of
Belgium. By the end of November I was no longer allowed to move freely
behind the front, although from time to time I visited small Belgian
frontier-places.
Yet I am glad to have witnessed the terrible fights near the Yser a
couple of times where the German invasion was stopped, and where we may
hope that soon victory may dawn on the brave Belgian army.
_Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and
Aylesbury_
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The translator uses the words "The Netherlands, Netherlander," and
"Netherland" on purpose. The Germans call themselves "Deutsch," the
Americans call them "Dutch," the Flemish use "Duts" or "Duuts," and the
Netherlanders "Duitsch"; so it is desirable to exchange "Dutch" for
"Netherland."
[2] See note on page 15.
=The Gods in the Battle=
By PAUL HYACINTHE LOYSON
Translated from the French by LADY FRAZER
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Transcriber's Note
Variable spelling and hyphenation have been retained. Minor punctuation
inconsistencies have been silently repaired.
On page 202, the underlined text was missing:
"At last I appealed to his heart by relating all the Netherlanders
had done for +the Belgians. This had the desired effect, and I was
allowed to drive home with him.
At every inn he felt thirsty, and made me feel quite clearly that I
had every reason to treat him.+ And every time that we went back to
our seats he said again:"
It was completed from the copy of the Library
of Congress found in Internet Archive
https://archive.org/details/germanfuryinbelg02mokv/page/n8
Duplicated text on pages 203-204 was deleted.
Corrections.
The first line indicates the original, the second the correction.
p. 75
I had to listen to a prolonged hymn of praise of the Netherlander,
I had to listen to a prolonged hymn of praise of the Netherlanders,
p. 106, Footnote [2]
See note on page 1.
See note on page 15.
p. 178
to instruct the vicars in the eighteen parishers
to instruct the vicars in the eighteen parishes
p. 180
but then they introducted
but then they introduced
p. 202
There was shouting enough in the streets and on the boulewards
There was shouting enough in the streets and on the boulevards
End of Project Gutenberg's The German Fury in Belgium, by L. Mokveld