I clasp my wife and three little ones in my arms.... The iron gate
closes behind me and I almost break into tears--the happiest moments of
my life are ended and I go toward the UNKNOWN----
One must heed Destiny!
MY ENLISTMENT, ANTWERP.
_August_ 6, 1914.
Already I curse war. I have journeyed seventy-two hours on the railroad
to enlist as a soldier.
The recruiting officer in charge said to me when I faced him:
"Ha! another. This is a double invasion, the German invasion and that
of the volunteers!"
THE OLD MAN AND THE GOAT, ANTWERP.
_August_ 14, 1914.
All morning there is an uninterrupted cortège of civilians fleeing from
the onrushing hordes. They have taken with them everything capable of
being carried in their hands. The pathetic sight makes one feel the
precipitateness of the flight, the despair, the panic!
A bent old man arrives presently; he walks slowly, fixedly regarding
the ground. He is leading a little white goat, which, every ten paces
or so, butts the old man with its horns, as if urging him to go faster.
The latter does not falter--he walks straight ahead.
One doesn't know whether to laugh or weep.
THE SOLDIER WHO BAYONETS HIS
FIRST BOCHE, BELGIUM.
_September_, 1914.
A young soldier was seated alongside the road. He belonged to a
Regiment of the Division quartered in the neighboring villages. He had
a sad and dejected air.
I seated myself at his side because I wanted to know the impression of
the men who had already been in battle.
"Have you been under fire?" I queried.
"Yes, corporal."
"How many Germans have you killed?"
I saw a haze of anger pass over the eyes of this young chap who
regarded me with a fixed look.
"Just one! I hate the Germans, I swear it, but I tremble to think what
I have done--yes, I killed him dead enough!
"_Voilà!_ I am a gardener by trade. I live in the Luxembourg. The
garden of my masters--it is all my life. Why has this accursed war
broken out? Can they no longer stay at home, the pigs?
"Then I was called and you know the rest, because I will not speak of
the first days of the campaign.
"But, _voilà!_ one night we made an ambuscade on a farm in the
outskirts of Vilvorde. It was dark. They told us the Germans would
possibly attempt a reconnaissance in the village and it was necessary
to open their eyes.
"We were placed in a house closer to the enemy lines than the others
and it was forbidden to enter the street. Some of my comrades were
hidden above on the second floor, but I was hiding back of the front
stairs and observed the entrance-way.
"My nerves were overexcited by this long wait. A single ray of the moon
wandered over the ground above the gate; it recalled one of my ambushes
for flower poachers.
"Night advanced and finally I believed they would never come. Suddenly
a well-sustained fire broke out a short distance away. I had fixed my
bayonet and now grasped my rifle tightly.
"The gate opened brusquely. The night was clear and I saw a big devil
of a German officer, revolver in hand, pass through and enter the
walk. He desired without doubt to seek shelter, for he slammed the gate
after him.
"This is what passed then in a flash. I left my hiding place--he saw
me. In his eyes there was the look of distress one always sees in those
of a trapped beast. He shot at me, but so quickly that he did not aim.
The report awoke the whole house.
"Already I had jumped at him--and I literally nailed him to the gate.
"Ah! To feel the crushing of bones--when one is accustomed to cultivate
flowers--to feel the crushing of bones!"
BRITISH STOLIDITY, BELGIUM.
_October_ 9, 1914.
War? At the beginning no one knew then what it was. The enemy bombarded
us with shells of an enormous caliber, which excited, more than
anything else, our curiosity.
Two "Tommies" started to swim across the river Nèthe to where the enemy
had but recently been thrown back. They repeated to everyone who asked
them where they were going:
"We want to see the BIG cannon, yes the BIG cannon!"
THE PRISONERS OF
GENERAL DE MAUD'HUY, NEAR ARRAS.
_January_, 1915.
Upon leaving table one day with General de Maud'huy, we came upon a
group of German prisoners, who immediately looked at us, saluting
respectfully.
"These are 'my prisoners,'" the general told me, "they work in the
cantonment."
"I had at the beginning about a dozen boches and mustered them every
night because we were only ten miles from the line of fire."
"Several escaped?" I asked.
"On the contrary," he replied. "The second night we counted eleven, the
third, fifteen. Now there are fifty. We never knew where they came from!"
"I have enough boches. I mustered them all yesterday and told them that
if their number kept on increasing I would send them all back. You
will agree that it is impossible to keep a strict count under these
conditions!"
THE ADMIRAL, NIEUPORT.
_March_ 7, 1915.