ANXIOUS DAYS.
Early one morning, while passing through the yard, we heard what seemed
to be peals of distant thunder. We looked around to see if a storm was
approaching, but as the sun shone brightly and not a cloud was to be
seen in the sky, we soon realized what this dismal sound implied. On
entering the Convent, we found several of our members standing by the
map of Belgium, tracing the route of portions of the German army then
endeavoring to force their way through to Antwerp.
The firing heard in the garden came from the bombardment of the City of
Mechelen. The first attack did not continue so long, nor was the damage
so great, as in the attacks which followed. The noise of the cannonade
increased from that day forward. Hardly a day or night passed without
bringing the unwelcome sound from one or the other direction. It often
happened that, having retired at a late hour after a long and fatiguing
day’s work, the short repose was interrupted by the explosion of bombs
or cannon balls, which, although then at a safe distance from our
village, was none the less terrifying.
In this most cruel war battles continued in the night as well as in the
day. When time was asked by either army to remove the wounded, it was
refused, because each mistrusted the motives of the other, thinking
that, instead of removing the wounded, they would utilize the time thus
gained in preparing for another attack.
About the first of September we went to Antwerp for a day or two. While
on the train we saw the wires stretched from place to place, and heard
explained the intended use of electricity at the fortress. Antwerp was
at that time, still and peaceful, as a child who slumbered, feeling
perfectly safe within her lines of fortifications. About eight o’clock
in the evening every light had to be put out, and the place resembled a
city of the dead.
On returning about twelve o’clock on Sunday, with the Sister who
accompanied me, we found some wounded brought in, who were pierced by
bayonets at a short distance from our house. Their condition was
critical, but they recovered sufficiently to be taken to Antwerp within
the following week.
A day or two later, while crossing the yard, we suddenly heard that
sissing, crackling sound of a shell or bomb flying through the air in
the direction of the church spire which towered above the walls of the
Convent chapel. Several others followed in quick succession. All the
convalescent soldiers who were in the yard, the Sisters and ladies in
the garden, hastened to take refuge in the cellars.
We feared for the wounded soldiers within, who could not leave their
beds. Soon the attack was answered by a heavy volley from the fortress,
and the cannonade continued until early next morning.
A day or two later one of the refugees visited the place where the
cannonade of the fortress had swept the entire region as if a tornado
had passed over it. On returning he related that parts of human bodies
hung on the trees and filled the hedges.
When the danger became imminent, the older Sisters and those who were
ill, or in any way disabled, were advised by the Rev. Superior to seek
refuge in the more secluded mission houses of the Community, and to all
who desired, permission was given to do the same, or to return to their
families for the time being. This was done on account of the
inadvisability of any one’s remaining at the convent during a battle,
since the buildings were in close proximity to the fortress.
Some of the Sisters packed their trunks and sent them to the homes of
their families. This precaution did not avail much, as the families of
many of our members had to leave their homes as refugees and probably
lost all their personal property.
Although all were permitted to seek safety in other places, only the
older members and two or three of the younger Sisters availed themselves
of the opportunity. All save these gathered around the Superior and her
assistant, and promised voluntarily to remain to the very last to assist
in the care of the wounded, whose number increased daily since the
arrival of the second division of the Red Cross.
On several occasions spies were arrested in Willebroeck and taken away.
Some were arrested in Brussels and Antwerp in the garb of priests. It
was authoritatively reported that supplies of weapons and ammunition,
among which was dynamite, were found in public buildings in Antwerp,
carefully hidden away in the basements. This aroused distrust on the
part of the Belgians for the resident Germans, whom they had always
treated with the greatest confidence and respect.
The result was that all the Germans then in Belgium were expelled from
the country and had to return to their own land. This was, indeed, a
hardship for the unoffending resident Germans, whose homes for years had
been in the cities and towns of this little kingdom.
We retired at a late hour one night amid the incessant booming of
cannon. Scarcely were our eyes closed when some one passed in the
dormitory and knocked at each door. “Ave Maria” was the quiet greeting.
“Deo Gratias,” the response. “What is it?” was asked. “The Germans have
entered and are crossing the bridge,” was the reply.
With beating heart and trembling limbs, each sprang up and was dressed
in a few minutes. In a state of great excitement, all stood in the hall
ready to receive orders from the Superior, who had gone downstairs to
make inquiries about the situation. At the first sound of the alarm a
party of soldiers and their officer went out to ascertain the facts in
the case, as the bridge where the enemy were said to be crossing was not
far distant.
All the inhabitants of the village were on the alert. By the time the
Sisters were ready to depart, the soldiers had returned, whose officer
laughingly related that it was only a party of Belgian “Lanciers” in
gray uniform, whom the Burgomaster of Blaesvelt had mistaken for German
soldiers, and thought it his duty to spread the alarm.
All retired quietly to their rooms once more, but no one rested much the
remainder of the night.
Then followed anxious days for the residents of Willebroeck, who
expected momentarily to hear the alarm clock in the church tower give
notice to flee for their lives. The officers of the Belgian army were
very sanguine, and assured the Superior and those in charge of the
wounded that timely notice would be given if the danger increased.
Nevertheless, the crackling of shells, the heavy cannonade from the
fortress and field cannon, and the occasional proximity of those hostile
aeroplanes, together with the reports of atrocities and destruction
taking place around us, were fearsome in the extreme.
In striking contrast to the noise and commotion on all sides, was the
calm tranquility which reigned in the chapel. The Sacred Heart stretched
forth that same Fatherly hand which assisted the apostle sinking on the
Sea of Galilee. The altar was still and solitary, but the little red
light flickered in the sanctuary lamp and told of Him whose word alone
stilled the winds and calmed the angry waves.
In the circumstances which then existed, one would almost envy the dead
resting so quietly in the old-time vault, in the shadow of the
tabernacle.
Lights were forbidden after a certain hour, but the moon shone through
the stained windows and wrought fantastic designs on the gilded molding,
while the mild and peaceful looks which characterize the images of the
saints told of heroism and victories won on the battle field of life, in
the pursuit of peace and sanctity, and carried the mind to that future
and better life where neither the pride, avarice, nor ambition of man
can ever destroy the eternal peace, nor break the impregnable union of
hearts.
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