At 1 o'clock in the morning an alarm aroused us again, and the captain
honoured us with an address. He told us we were at war with Belgium,
that we should acquit ourselves as brave soldiers, earn iron crosses,
and do honour to our German name....
The soldier is told, "The Belgian is your enemy," and he has to believe
it. The soldier, the workman in uniform, had not known till then who
was his enemy. If they had told us, "The Hollander is your enemy," we
would have believed that, too; we would have been compelled to believe
it, and would have shot him by order. We, the "German citizens in
uniform," must not have an opinion of our own, must have no thoughts
of our own, for they give us our enemy and our friend according to
requirements, according to the requirements of their own interests. The
Frenchman, the Belgian, the Italian, is your enemy. Never mind, shoot
as we order, and do not bother your head about it....
About ten minutes we might have lain in the grass when we suddenly
heard rifle shots in front of us. Electrified, all of us jumped up and
hastened to our rifles. Then the firing of rifles that was going on
at a distance of about a mile or a mile and a half began steadily to
increase in volume. We set in motion immediately....
Though I was aware that we should be in the firing line within half an
hour, I endeavoured to convince myself that our participation in the
fight would no longer be necessary. I clung obstinately, nay, almost
convulsively to every idea that could strengthen that hope or give me
consolation. That not every bullet finds its billet; that, as we had
been told, most wounds in modern wars were afflicted by grazing shots
which caused slight flesh-wounds; those were some of the reiterated
self-deceptions indulged in against my better knowledge. And they
proved effective. It was not only that they made me in fact feel more
easy; deeply engaged in those thoughts I had scarcely observed that we
were already quite near the firing line....
We were lying flat on the ground, and fired in the direction indicated
to us as fast as our rifles would allow. So far we had not seen our
opponents. That, it seemed, was too little interesting to some of our
soldiers; so they rose partly, and fired in a kneeling position. Two
men of my company had to pay for their curiosity with their lives.
Almost at one and the same time they were shot through the head. The
first victim of our group fell down forward without uttering a sound;
the second threw up his arms and fell on his back. Both of them were
dead instantly.
Who could describe the feelings that overcome a man in the first hail
of bullets he is in? When we were leaping forward to reach the firing
line I felt no longer any fear and seemed only to try to reach the line
as quickly as possible. But when looking at the first dead man I was
seized by a terrible horror. For minutes I was perfectly stupefied, had
completely lost command over myself and was absolutely incapable to
think or act. I pressed my face and hands firmly against the ground,
and then suddenly I was seized by an irrepressible excitement, took
hold of my gun, and began to fire away blindly. Little after little I
quieted down again somewhat, nay, I became almost quite confident as if
everything was normal. Suddenly I found myself content with myself and
my surroundings, and when a little later the whole line was commanded,
"Leap forward! March, march!" I ran forward demented like the others,
as if things could not be other than what they were....
It was a hand to hand fight; every kind of weapon had to be employed;
the opponent was attacked with the butt-end of the rifle, the knife,
the fist, and the teeth. One of my best friends fought with a gigantic
Belgian; both had lost their rifles. They were pummeling each other
with their fists. I had just finished with a Belgian who was about
twenty-two years of age, and was going to assist my friend, as the
Herculean Belgian was so much stronger than he. Suddenly my friend
succeeded with a lightning motion in biting the Belgian in the chin. He
bit so deeply that he tore away a piece of flesh with his teeth. The
pain the Belgian felt must have been immense, for he let go his hold
and ran off screaming with terrible pain.
All that happened in seconds. The blood of the Belgian ran out of my
friend's mouth; he was seized by a horrible nausea, an indescribable
terror, the taste of the warm blood nearly drove him insane. That
young, gay, lively fellow of twenty-four had been cheated out of his
youth in that night. He used to be the jolliest among us; after that we
could never induce him even to smile.
Whilst fighting during the night I came for the first time in touch
with the butt-end of a Belgian rifle. I had a hand to hand fight with a
Belgian when another one from behind hit me with his rifle on the head
with such force that it drove my head into the helmet up to my ears.
I experienced a terrific pain all over my head, doubled up, and lost
consciousness. When I revived I found myself with a bandaged head in a
barn among other wounded.
I had not been severely wounded, but I felt as if my head was double
its normal size, and there was a noise in my ears as of the wheels of
an express engine....
We were quite hungry and ate the tinned soup with the heartiest of
appetites. Many of our soldiers were sitting with their dinner-pails
on the dead horses that were lying about, and were eating with such
pleasure and heartiness as if they were home at mother's. Nor did some
corpses in the neighbourhood of our improvised camp disturb us. There
was only a lack of water and after having eaten thirst began to torment
us.
We continued our march in the scorching midday sun; dust was covering
our uniforms and skin to the depth of almost an inch. We tried in vain
to be jolly, but thirst tormented us more and more, and we became
weaker and weaker from one quarter of an hour to another. Many in our
ranks fell down exhausted....