A GERMAN HOST
“Do please hurry, and return to the house, my dear sir and madame, for
the Germans are there.”
It was a young lady who thus addressed us on the sidewalk midway
between the church and the chateau. My wife and I were returning from
church when we were thus apprised that the Hun was more than at the
gate–that in fact he was beyond it, and actually in the house awaiting
our return. We hastened our footsteps homeward. The first thing we
observed was an automobile standing opposite the main entrance.
In the house we found ourselves in the presence of a German officer
of medium build. He bowed very low to my wife and myself, and then
explained that the automobile standing at the door in charge of three
soldiers belonged to him. He spoke the French language and demanded
lodgings.
Such an unexpected request was perplexing, to say the least. We could
hardly refuse it, although, candidly, we did not relish the proposition
in the least. I explained that the house was full of refugees, who were
our relatives; that they had been with us for over a week, and that
under the circumstances it would be difficult, if not quite impossible,
to find fitting accommodation for him. He insisted, however, saying
the three soldiers who accompanied him–a chauffeur, an orderly and a
valet–could sleep in the garage, and he alone would require a room in
our house. I thought that in stating my nationality he might change his
mind; so I said to him: “I am very anxious to return with my wife to
Canada, for I am a Canadian, consequently a British subject.”
“I know that,” he replied. “I know that.”
I have to confess that I was astonished to learn that he knew my
nationality. What a marvelous service of espionage these Germans had!
“Yes,” he added. “I can say definitely that you must not leave Belgium.
There is nothing to prevent you remaining here, even if you are a
British subject. I have also learned that you are a physician, and that
as such you served in hospital at Antwerp. You need have no fear, then,
in remaining here; you are protected under laws of military authority.”
I exchanged a glance with my wife and together we reached the
same conclusion. We would receive this officer in the house, find
accommodation for his servants, and, for ourselves, we would remain in
Capellen. As a matter of fact, we were very happy to be able to reach
this decision, as Capellen, at that time, had no other medical doctor.
Several of the local physicians had joined the army, and others had
gone to Holland. I might, therefore, be able to render some service
by remaining. My wife was at the head of a charity organization long
established at Capellen, and which, in consequence of the war, had
become of exceptional utility and importance. This was how we came to
remain, and the children with us.
The German officer came from Brunswick. Goering was his name. For two
years he had been attached to the German Embassy in Spain, and later
he was for eight years at the German legation in Brazil. He had, it
must be acknowledged, acquired a great deal of polish through his
international experience. He spoke English and French fairly well.
He had none of the haughtiness and self-conceited characteristics of
the ordinary Prussian officers. But he entertained no doubt about the
ultimate success of the German arms, above all at that moment when
the world-famed fortress of Antwerp had just fallen into their hands.
He professed to believe that German troops would land in England
within a few weeks, and this opinion was shared by his three military
servants. The Germans were already in Ostend, and from that place an
expeditionary force was to be directed against England. That project
was on every one’s lips.
[Illustration: POOR BOYS IN CAPELLEN BEING FED BY THE ST. VINCENT DE
PAUL
The arrow and the cross designate Madame and Miss Beland]
This officer remained with us for about three months, leaving at the
end of December. I must acknowledge again that I never found in him the
typical Prussian officer. This is easy to conceive when one recalls
that for ten years immediately preceding he had lived in foreign
countries, and associated with diplomats and attachés of embassies and
legations of many countries. Naturally, he believed in the superiority
of the German race. He boasted of German culture. He was convinced
German industry was destined to monopolize the world’s markets. He
insisted that France was degenerate, that Britain had not, and would
never have, a powerful army, and said Dunkirk and Calais would surely
be captured within a few weeks, etc., etc., etc.
During October and November of that year it was possible, although the
frontier was guarded by German sentries, to cross into Holland on any
pretext whatsoever. One might go there to buy provisions so long as
the sentries were satisfied the party intended to return. It was only
at Christmas, 1914, that the frontier between Antwerp and Holland
was “hermetically closed”–if I may use this term. At the distance of
about one kilometre from the frontier, a post of inspection and control
was established. Here on Christmas Day the most absolute control of
passports was ordered. No one could cross unless provided with a permit
issued by the German administration in Antwerp. We were, therefore, at
that time cut off from all communication with the outside world.
Winter had come; distress was great in Belgium, and but for the
foodstuffs and clothing forwarded from the United States and Canada–but
for the charitably disposed rich families, who can tell what horrors
the population of the occupied territory would have gone through.