THE RETURN OF THE ARMY.
A little after four o’clock one afternoon, shortly before the departure
of the first division of the Red Cross, our attention was attracted by
the heavy and continuous tread of cavalry and soldiers passing along the
street. It was the Belgian army returning from a long and tiresome
march.
Here was found a different kind of suffering from that which was
ministered to in the hospital. Hunger and fatigue were stamped upon the
countenance of each of these men, who, about a month before were
industrious citizens at their daily occupations.
We saw them marching away in the early morning some time before, full of
courage and patriotic zeal. For what reason they all marched off, or
where they were going, we knew not; but were informed later by one of
the officers that while on the march they had been attacked by the
enemy, who were stealthily concealed, and fired into their ranks from
both sides of the road. Several of the soldiers were killed and a large
number wounded, but, having retreated promptly and in order, no great
loss of life was sustained.
There were in the ranks priests, in their long black cassocks, wearing
the arm-band of the Red Cross, who, as volunteer chaplains, had joined
the army and were ever at the service of the soldiers on the march, and
even on the battle field. We were informed that priests, and those
preparing for the priesthood, were not obliged to serve in the army in
times of peace; but, in case of war, they may be called upon to serve as
military chaplains. When the present war broke out, hundreds of them
joined as volunteers, marching in the ranks with the soldiers and
undergoing their sufferings and hardships.
Many doctors rode along in motor cars. They were distinguished by a
special dark-colored uniform, with a red collar and gilded trimmings.
They also wore the arm-band of the Red Cross. Officers on horseback led
each division of the army. The faces of all were disfigured with sweat
and dust, while dust in abundance covered shoes and clothing. Some were
staggering along, unable to walk straight, owing to the hard shoes and
blistered feet. Hollow-cheeked, and with eyes which seemed to protrude
from their sockets, they passed along, piteously imploring a morsel of
bread.
Fortunately, the abundant supply of bread in the Convent had just been
increased by the addition of forty of those immense loaves found only in
Belgium. All of this was hastily cut, buttered and, with baskets full of
pears, dealt out, piece by piece, to the passing soldiers, until,
finally, only a small portion remained over for the supper of the
wounded remaining in the hospital.
The servant maids went out to the village later in search of bread, but
there was not a loaf to be found anywhere. All had been given to the
soldiers. Two Sisters and one of the maids remained up all night. The
oven was again heated and the usual supply of bread doubled.
Every large locale in the village from which, by the way, all
non-resident refugees were obliged to depart, received the various
divisions of the army which were allotted to them. About two hundred
soldiers were assigned to those parts of our Parochial School unoccupied
by the village refugees or not in use by the Red Cross.
Before the command was given to enter the schools, we saw soldiers,
among whom were also priests, lying on the ground on the opposite side
of the street, even as horses which, having run a great distance, fall
down from sheer exhaustion. Some of these, we learned afterwards, did
not have their shoes off in nearly three weeks. The socks, hard and worn
out, were in some cases stamped into the blistered feet in such a manner
as to cause excruciating pain. In some cases the feet were so painful
and swollen that the patients had to be carried in on stretchers. In the
meantime, several ambulance wagons had stopped at the school gate, and
numerous wounded were carried in.
When finally one division entered d’Externat, a hasty search was begun
for hay and straw. All that could be found was carried into the garret
of the schools and the empty classrooms.
The refugees of Willebroeck were very generous to the soldiers, giving
them all the provisions which they could find. Many soldiers were seen
with pails in their hands in search of water. Of this there was a good
supply on the place, and more could readily be obtained at the cistern
which was connected with the canal. In a short time they were refreshed
and cleansed from the dust and sweat of that long and tiresome march,
and were observed sitting in groups on the grass which surrounded the
school.
Soon after a large door, which one of the refugees carried away from his
house in the village before it was burned, was found. This was laid on
two small heaps of stone, so as to form a table. About half an ox was
procured and a large part of it chopped into small pieces and put into a
big iron kettle, which was then filled with water. The kettle was placed
on a wood fire kindled in the garden, and potatoes and other ingredients
put into it. After a time it began to boil in a lively manner, greatly
to the satisfaction of those poor hungry men who were so patiently
waiting for their supper. When this finally was ready, the knapsacks
were opened and each took out a spoon and a small tin can, the cover of
which served for plate, cup and saucer.
Probably the German General Staff failed to enjoy their bounteous supper
that evening as well as did the poor Belgian soldiers their soup on the
cool green grass. It must be remarked that each division was under the
direction of an officer, who placed armed guards at the gates and
passages. Perfect order prevailed. They talked quietly among themselves
and remained strictly within the places assigned to their use; only once
in a while one of them would knock at the kitchen door and ask for a can
of water, which was soon understood to mean a can of cold coffee. This
was never refused, and the grateful “Mercie” (thanks) was ample reward
for the service rendered.
That night passed quietly. The soldiers had a good opportunity to rest
on the hay and straw which had been provided. Some of them were astir at
a very early hour. The large kettle was again placed over the fire and
filled with water for the soldiers’ breakfast of bread and black coffee.
Their only fear was that a message to depart would arrive before they
would have a chance of “Coffie drinken” (drinking coffee, or breakfast).
At about eight o’clock one evening during the stay of the soldiers an
excited group of eight men and two boys ran wildly into the yard through
the gate, which had been left open for the soldiers not yet arrived.
Great drops of sweat were on their faces. They were out of breath from
running, and greatly excited. Some were bare-footed, having lost or
thrown away their wooden shoes in the great haste to escape the enemy,
who, they related, had entered a village three or four miles distant and
had taken as prisoners a number of citizens and placed them in front of
their own ranks. The boys had lost their parents in the confusion which
ensued and were crying bitterly. They found a resting place somewhere in
the schools that night and departed early next morning, because
non-resident refugees were not permitted to remain after the arrival of
the Red Cross.
The soldiers were called away several times for short intervals, after
which they again returned for a rest. Thus the month of August passed.
The frightful campaign progressed slowly but surely. Several times we
had seen the hostile aeroplane, with its shining armor glittering in the
sunshine, flying gracefully over our schools. How we then feared for our
wounded, so helplessly lying within these same walls. One morning, about
three o’clock, we were suddenly awakened by heavy, oft-repeated
shooting, which seemed to proceed from the farther end of our garden.
The alarm was caused by the appearance of an aeroplane soaring as a huge
bird over the fortress. Mettrailleusen opened fire upon it, and the
unwelcome visitor soon disappeared. However, we all feared its
reappearance in the night. For this reason the towns and cities were
kept in total darkness from eight o’clock in the evening, and
searchlights illumined the dark clouds over and around the fortresses
and other places of particular importance.
About this time we were informed that several thousand of the enemy’s
soldiers were digging trenches and fortifying themselves on all sides of
us. Every newspaper brought fresh tidings of most inhuman atrocities
which filled the minds of the people with unspeakable horror.
In Belgium it was neither the German nation nor her soldiers, considered
as a whole, who were held responsible for these awful outrages, because
it was well known that there were among them many noble characters and
Christians, renowned for their piety and fidelity to God and country,
who were sacrificing their lives for what they thought to be a just and
holy cause and whose families were also suffering and sorrowing at home.
It was alone, as should be known by everyone, the Godless element in the
German army, led on and sustained by equally Godless officers, who
encouraged, permitted and probably commanded those crimes, as we infer
from the testimony of German wounded soldiers in our Red Cross
hospitals. “If we do not shoot, burn and pillage,” said one of them, “we
shall be shot ourselves.”
It seems incredible that any one claiming Christian convictions of any
creed or country, could have acted as did the so-called barbarians who
despoiled many of the most beautiful cities, towns and villages of
Belgium.
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