MY MAPS OF BELGIUM
On leaving Mr. Whitlock I went down town and engaged a room at a little
private hotel for the duration of my stay in Brussels. One day shortly
afterwards, while I was sitting in a café of the little hotel, a
neighbor of the proprietor came in and I was introduced to him. He was a
very likable fellow, and we had a half hour's pleasant chat, at least it
was pleasant for me. I am not so sure it was as pleasant for him, for I
was certainly an artist at butchering up the King's French.
As he arose to go out he bid me _au revoir_ and stopped for a moment to
speak confidentially to the madame who ran the place. After he had
departed she told me that the man was a regular customer of theirs who
lived down the street, and that he was a printer by trade. His
particular line of printing was that of map making, and he had told the
landlady that he would like to make me a present of some nice maps of
Belgium if I would accept them. He wanted to show his appreciation for
the assistance of America. I said, "That would be very fine and I would
certainly be glad to have them, both for their instructive value as well
as a memento of the giver."
Accordingly, the next day the man came over with his maps in his hand
and gave them to me. They were not large and could be conveniently
folded and put into the pocket, but they were unusually complete and
really very excellent guides to the country. I took them and thanked
him, looking them over admiringly and putting them into my inside
pocket.
Thereafter when I talked with the Belgian people about the geography of
the country, I frequently consulted my map in order to fasten in mind
the location of the different towns. My own study of geography in my
earlier days had been sadly neglected or forgotten, so I found these
very useful gifts. It was quite natural that people, in talking with me
about the brutality of the Germans, should mention towns where the most
glaring atrocities had been perpetrated. I had also read the Bryce
report and the names of certain towns stood out distinctly in my memory.
These places I marked with a cross on the map, so as to be sure to
visit them, and later, when I visited other destroyed villages or
cities, I marked them also, so that later in life I might glance over
the maps and easily recall the experiences in each of the places. I
thought I had a very nice memento which would always call up vivid
recollections. Certain places had been already specially marked in the
making of the map by having circles of stars around the town which I did
not exactly understand, but supposing they were important cities or
capitals of provinces, I was particular to put a cross there as a place
which I ought to visit, which I did in most cases. In, fact, before I
had completed my tour of the country I had the maps pretty well crossed
up, especially in the more important centers throughout the ruined
districts.
One striking thing in scanning the maps was that I had not marked a
single place which was not in the devastated area, plainly indicating
that I had made a careful point of traveling only through the parts
which the Germans had destroyed and going only to the worst desolated
places at that. In other words, by a glance at my map you could follow
my itinerary practically as easily as you can follow a rabbit in the
snow by his tracks.
Many a time I contemplated looking back with pleasure and explaining to
my American friends in years to come and to my grandchildren, when my
hair should be gray, how I had bluffed my way through the German lines
and observed the country and the German rule while he was still in
possession. It would be a thing of which few men could boast, since it
was against the military policy of every country to allow anybody to
come from the enemy and go through their land and then go back to the
enemy again. That was unheard of. Yet inwardly it was my intention, and,
in fact, I had no other idea than that I should accomplish it
successfully. Consequently I wrote down nothing. I mean I kept no diary
on paper and I wrote no letters. I had many friends in France who would
have liked to have a word from me, and also my folks in America expected
me to write them letters for news and for souvenirs, but I was afraid to
attempt to send any word to them, even indirectly through Holland, as I
feared the Germans would open all mail, and finding me in touch with
France, would decide that I intended returning there and then would see
to it that I did not. Everything that I saw and heard in Belgium, all
the information I received, was in my head and not on paper, as I felt
that would save me much trouble; so I merely marked the maps with little
crosses.