Stories of the cool nerve of Belgian soldiers under fire are being told
everywhere by refugees and correspondents arriving from the battlefield
in lower Belgium. The story is told of one volunteer who returned after
a skirmish with Uhlans and calmly announced: “Well, I killed two.” Then
as he filled his pipe, he added:
“I hit one right there,” putting his finger to his forehead. “His helmet
went spinning and I picked it up later and saw the hole my bullet made.”
Clerks, brokers, and business men have been turned into fighting devils.
The Belgians were not out of their uniforms for days at a time. Sleeping
and eating in the trenches when they could, they became veritable
vagabonds. Even when catching a few winks of sleep the men lay with
their rifles on their arms ready for action.