THE FLIGHT OF THE REFUGEES.
While the aforesaid events were taking place, sorrowful scenes were
witnessed along the streets. Our attention and sympathies were
particularly attracted to the flight of the refugees. In this case we
could give no material assistance, as we were able to do in other cases.
For hours and days and weeks the doleful procession passed along the
streets; a living stream made up of all ranks and classes of society.
Here were seen the poor old farmer’s household, whose sons had gone to
the front; and young married women, with small children in their arms or
by their sides, whose husbands had to don the soldier’s uniform and go
to the war. The sick, the old and the feeble were taken from their beds
of suffering and, with shawls or blankets thrown over their shoulders,
placed in carts or wagons and carried away, perhaps, to perish by the
roadside. We have seen cripples and small children hurriedly driven
along the street in wheelbarrows.
Packages carried on their arms, on their backs, or in little carts were
about all that the poor people could take, and all that they desired, so
confident were they of a speedy return to their homes.
On another day about the end of August, the unbroken line which filed
through the street at noon was, without any interruption, passing
through at twelve o’clock that night. As the cities, towns and villages
were, for the most part, taken by surprise, or bombarded without having
received any notice, the civilians had no alternative but to collect a
few necessary articles of clothing, and in some cases a loaf of bread,
and flee in haste from their homes, leaving crops, cattle, furniture and
all their possessions to the fury of the flames and the tide of
destruction, so rapidly sweeping down upon them.
Many people of the wealthier class, anticipating what was to come, had
packed trunks and boxes with clothing and other personal property and
sent them away to what was considered safe quarters. Then they moved
away within the fortifications of Antwerp, where it was thought the
enemy could not enter. Others, in the firm hope that the war would soon
be over and that they would be able to return to their homesteads in a
few days, left everything untouched and fled from city to village and
from town to town. We met parties of acquaintances in Antwerp who had
changed their places of residence nine times within one month, and then
were obliged to leave Antwerp in a day or two.
Some let their cattle run loose in the meadows. These were shot down or
taken by the soldiers, or appropriated by any one who desired.
It was most pitiful to see these poor people, whose only object was to
get away as far as possible from the scenes of conflict. Some carried
small loaves of bread; others had a little hay or straw in their wagons;
some led a cow or two; others two or three pigs. In some of the carts we
recognized faces of our former pupils, who only one short month before
were longing for the pleasant vacation days. Their fathers or brothers
were in the army, and their homes forsaken. Some children had lost their
parents and were crying piteously. When the Sisters left the parish
church, where they daily took part in the public devotions for peace,
they were besieged by hundreds of these poor, half-frantic refugees,
beseeching shelter over night in the church or schools, which were
already full to overflowing. The days were warm and pleasant, but the
nights were very chilly and sometimes rainy. Where would those poor
people go and what could they do without food or shelter for all those
little children? The friendly stars looked down from the realms above
upon thousands who lay along the roadside, while others crowded the
barns and country schools, or made rude tent-like shelters in the bed of
the new canal.
This canal would have been opened in September with great festivities,
over which King Albert was expected to preside.
Peace or security was nowhere to be found. The war-chased people fled
from place to place for weeks, fearful and famishing, until the kindly
and protecting arms of England and Holland received them, and the noble
hearts and hands of American women united to provide food and clothing
for those who fled, and for the others also who would not, or could not,
leave their own country.
While cheerfully and gratefully testifying to what has been accomplished
in this country, and the great amount of money spent in alleviating the
sufferings caused by this sanguinary conflict, it does seem sad to think
that American manufacturers will continue to supply weapons and
ammunition to any of the belligerent countries. It reminds one of a
great conflagration, in which the firemen exert themselves to subdue the
flames, while a few pour on oil to replenish the fire. This will be a
lasting reproach to those engaged in this destroying traffic. “There is
no pocket in a shroud,” and the bloodstained money obtained in this
manner will not assuage the pain and grief of the orphan and widow, nor
will it purchase redemption at the judgment seat above.
As the danger increased, difficulties in the way of traveling also
increased. Passports, upon which were indicated the distinguishing
characteristics of the bearer, had to be obtained before leaving one’s
place of residence, if only for one hour; and such passports could only
be used in the vicinity in which they were issued.
To go to Antwerp, or any of the cities or towns at a distance, one’s
passport had to bear his or her portrait, sealed by the Burgomaster of
the town or city wherein he resided. If these requirements were not
complied with, a person would not be permitted to pass through the gate
of a city or enter even an ordinary depot.
A great number of refugees found their way ultimately within the
fortified City of Antwerp. They were seen for a day or two in solitary
groups in the public park, or in tents along the streets. In a large
school near the Palace of Justice fifteen hundred found refuge for a few
days, and were then directed to leave.
The authorities, becoming alarmed about the food and water supplies of
the city, and fearing contagion or disease, compelled all refugees who
were not obliged to leave their homes on account of fortifications, to
leave the city within a specified time. Large numbers of these poor,
homeless people, many of whom were of gentle birth and wealthy, were
obliged to crowd into freight cars which had been used for the
transportation of cattle, and were thus carried away to Ghent or Ostend.
From Ostend they were shipped to England. Many had previously left
Antwerp for Holland. In these countries thousands of them will
prayerfully await the dawn of peace, which will decide the future
destiny of their country.
The events already related occurred between the first of August and the
27th of September. Sunday, September 27, passed off quietly in
Willebroeck, although refugees filed through the streets continually,
and the booming of cannon was heard in the surrounding towns. The sky
was leaden and a somber, smoky atmosphere hung over the country and
caused a feeling of sadness and uncertainty.
In the evening one of the refugees returned from a hurried visit to the
scene of his former home, and related to his daughter, who anxiously
awaited his arrival, that the enemy had made great headway. “Tomorrow
will be the last day in which it will be safe to remain in Willebroeck,”
said he to those who stood there.
In a few minutes the report was circulated on all sides. Sisters, on
hearing it, remarked, “Nonsense! What God protects is well protected; we
must not be alarmed, but patiently await the accomplishment of God’s
holy will.” Monday’s papers brought news of another bombardment of the
City of Mechelen (Malines), a short distance from Willebroeck.
Following are a few quotations from that morning’s paper (Antwerp’s
_Handelsblad_, Monday, September 28, 1914): “While on the train this
morning, before entering the station of Mechelen, our attention was
attracted by the multitudes who, in the greatest haste, took flight
through the Zandpoortvest. They were the residents of Muysen. The German
troops, about eight hundred strong, were there at half-past seven; thus
the people had no alternative but to take flight as rapidly as possible.
The enemy shot upon some refugees, and the ten-year-old son of Desiré
Horckmans was shot in the car where he was sitting, and Mrs. Arm Beulens
was seriously wounded. ‘This was only a sign of what was yet to come.’
“Scarcely had we reached the station, at half-past eight, when we heard
the heavy roar of cannon, followed by terrific explosions, such as we
had never before heard. All the people who had come from the direction
of Antwerp took flight through the side streets. At every explosion it
seemed as if an earthquake shook the ground under foot. So heavy were
the shocks that many people fell.
“On the Schuttersvest, we found refuge in a cellar, while one volley
followed another. The explosions were deafening. Every pane of glass in
the vicinity was broken in pieces. In several places the stones were
forced out of the pavements and thrown to a great distance, while bombs
pierced the ground to the depth of two meters.
“One can judge the terror in which the residents of Mechelen tried to
find a place of safety. The cannonade was awful, as was also the ‘Gesis’
(sissing noise) of the bombs which flew over the streets and, exploding,
spread fire, death and destruction in every direction.
“A bomb fell just in front of the railroad station, making a pit in the
ground three ‘meters’ in diameter. The place was covered with stones,
which were violently jerked out of the ground. The station is
half-demolished. No one is there to be seen except the lifeless body of
an elderly gentleman who, with his face to the ground, is stretched out
on the floor of the waiting-room.
“The beautiful buildings belonging to the Little Sisters of the Poor,
and many other noted buildings have been totally destroyed. Thus it was
in the few places which we have visited. What will it be in other
places? All the streets through which we passed were covered with glass
and stones. In all the city there is not a pane of glass which remains
whole. All day long the Duffel highway was black with refugees, which
makes us conclude that all Mechelen has taken flight.”
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