GERMAN BEASTS IN A FRENCH CONVENT.
It is fitting that my sketch of a French Convent, as the abode of holy
women whose innocent lives were dedicated and devoted to the service of
the Prince of Peace, should stand by itself, apart from any drawings
suggesting less faintly the devilry of war. The nunnery had been in the
possession of the Germans for some short time before we arrived on the
scene, and bore traces of their customary depredations and violations.
The stories related by the nuns themselves were not of a description to
bear retailing in the public Press. I would to God that they could be
told to every coward of a shirker at home, to every skunk of a
"conscientious objector," to every rat of a "stop-the-war"
"pacificist." They would stir to boiling indignation the dregs of their
manhood--if they have any dregs. They would make them sick--even them;
and I should like them all to be sick--sick unto death. There are not
many of them, all told, but they are noisy as well as noisome. The good
sisters hailed the British as deliverers, and gave us a welcome I can
neither describe nor forget.
[Illustration: A VIOLATED CONVENT.]
The enemy had abstained from destroying the building, probably from a
subtle motive. They had retired to a wood in the rear. We made a sharp
attack upon them to the right of this wood the next day; caught them at
night completely unawares, and, after a very stiff fight, routed them,
and they left 150 dead on the ground.
There was a pond in the Convent grounds, and while getting water for our
transport teams we came across some tin cases hidden away by the
enemy--a great find, for on getting them out we found they contained
many thousands of rounds of the enemy's ammunition. It was perfectly
dry, as the cases were watertight; so we made a big haul of most useful
supplies.