DOING HOSPITAL WORK
It is unnecessary for me, I think, to insist here upon the patriotism
displayed by the Belgian nation. All classes of the population, rich
and poor, young and old, of all ages and of both sexes, were anxious to
help the national cause of their country, threatened by the Germanic
monster.
During the first days of August, 1914, on all sides I was asked the
question: “Mr. Beland, what do you think England will do?” And I had
from the outset a sincere conviction, which I expressed freely, that
if Germany dared to execute her threat to violate the neutrality of
Belgium Great Britain would declare war on the invader.
I recall most distinctly a demonstration which took place on the beach
at Middelkerke, on the day Germany’s ultimatum was published. In the
North Sea in the offing the people could see what, to the naked eye,
looked like a bank of clouds. Through the glasses, however, one could
plainly perceive a squadron of British warships. When the news was
announced the reassuring effect it had on the population was touching,
and when I promptly called for three cheers for the British squadron
the response was fervid and prolonged. From the moment it became known
that Great Britain had signified to Germany that she would enter the
fray to avenge the honor of Belgium and uphold the sanctity of treaties
a tremendous confidence, an atmosphere of serenity, replaced the
anxiety, depression and fear that had occupied the minds of all.
It was then that I went to Antwerp and offered my services as physician
to the Belgian Medical Army Corps. I was given a cordial welcome and I
took up my duty at St. Elizabeth Hospital, directed by Dr. Conrad, one
of the most prominent and celebrated physicians of Antwerp, indeed of
Belgium.
This hospital was in charge of Sisters of Charity, whose name I now
forget. Let it suffice to say that these noble women showed a devotion
beyond human praise and reward. They were indeed martyrs to their cause.
It was toward the middle of August that the first wounded began to
arrive at the hospital, coming from the centre of Belgium. All the
physicians, except myself, were army physicians and had been enlisted
at the outbreak of the hostilities.
It was on August 25, if I remember well, that the first German air raid
was made on the City of Antwerp. It is difficult to convey an idea
of the manner in which this event filled the citizens with terror.
The Zeppelins were then unknown to the ordinary population. Twelve
civilians–men, women and children–were killed by the bombs dropped by
the raiders. On the following morning there appeared in La Metropole,
an Antwerp newspaper, an article advising the burial of the victims at
a certain place in the city, and the erection of a monument bearing the
following inscription: “Assassinated by the German barbarians on the
25th of August, 1914.”
The indignation of the public was great. The presence of German
subjects in Antwerp had become impossible. Most of them, however, had
by that time left the fortified portion of the city.
Every morning I used to bring with me to the hospital a copy of the
London Times, and when we had a few moments of leisure the other
physicians would gather around to hear the translation of the principal
items of news.
Brussels was occupied by the Germans on August 18; Antwerp had now
become the centre of the Belgians’ resistance; the seat of the
Government and the general staff of the army had been transferred here.
In America one had not yet a full conception of the popularity of King
Albert and of Queen Elizabeth among their subjects. Very few sovereigns
enjoy to such a large extent the love and confidence of their people.
One day I had left the hospital and was running toward the wharves on
hearing that a detachment of German prisoners captured by the Belgians
was to pass that way. I shall never forget the spectacle offered on
that occasion by the entire population of the city crowding the main
streets and avenues to get a glimpse of these German soldiers, invaders
of the sacred soil of Belgium. And it was while wending my way through
the streets to get a nearer glimpse of the captives that more than ever
I realized how the Belgians resented the insult inflicted upon them by
the barbarian hordes. The prisoners looked tired and haggard; they were
covered with dust and mud; the sight was pitiable.
When returning to the hospital I encountered, half way down a narrow
street leading to the Cathedral, a group of small boys who were making
an ovation in honor of a young lady, neatly dressed, and accompanied by
a small boy eight or ten years of age. The boys were joined by adults,
who continued to cheer the Queen and the Prince as they passed through
the Place de Meir towards the royal palace. For it was the Queen and
her son walking unostentatiously on the street. From every door and
every window men, women and children continued cheering: “Vive la reine
Elizabeth! Vive le petit Prince!”
In the last weeks of August and during the first three weeks of
September, the Belgian troops concentrated in the fortified positions
of Antwerp, and made several demonstrations against the Germans, who
then occupied Brussels and Malines. At the hospital we were notified in
advance of these sallies by the Belgian army, so that we might prepare
ourselves to receive a fresh contingent of wounded the following day.
The wounded brought into St. Elizabeth Hospital were not, as a rule,
very seriously injured, although at times and at first sight one would
have believed them mortally injured. Happily, up to this date there
had been no artillery attack on Antwerp. It is wounds resulting from
artillery fire that are the most dangerous and the most frightful to
look upon.