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"In one of my school books, I remember a picture which, when I first saw
it, filled me with horror. It represented the Exodus of the Gauls at the
approach of the Huns, and was drawn, I think, by Gustav Doré,--the
women half naked, dragged away by the savage soldiers; the terrified and
crying children; the old men and women hurrying away, some empty-handed,
others laden with all manner of objects which at any other time, or
under different conditions would have seemed ridiculous, but which
coupled with their terror, became pathetic. This picture now was enacted
by my unfortunate fellow townspeople in their attempt to escape from the
dangers of the bombardment and acts of the invaders. Crowds were running
towards the railway depot, not realizing that the cars were already
crowded to suffocation with half fainting women and terrified children.
Others sat beside the ways, wailing and wringing their hands; here and
there sat groups silent, staring as if they had lost their senses!
"The forests outside the town were filled with hiding, terrified women,
and here the Uhlans gathered on the morning of the 30th, after the
invasion and occupation of Noyon. During this flight from town many
women became mothers by the roadside, and lay there helpless until
attended to by the German Ambulance Corps. The Germans arrived on the
30th of August. They entered Noyon after having fired three great shells
into the city, which met with no response. The silence of death was over
the town, save for the howling here and there of an abandoned dog, shut
indoors.
"We, the staff at the hospital, gathered about the president of our
committee, with clasped hands, vowed solemnly that come what would, we
should remain at our post, to do our duty to the end. With us stayed
some courageous young women nurses, and several of the attendants.
"Some hours before we had received at the hospital some dozen or so
wounded English soldiers from the front. We were in the midst of our
work with these, when there came the sound of violent banging on the
front door. Two Uhlans burst in past the attendant and entered the
court.
"Catching sight of us ranged about the cot of a wounded soldier, these
pushed us aside, examined the condition of the wounded men in the
room and without saying one word to any of us, hurriedly took their
departure.
"From this instant our wounded were prisoners of war, and must resign
themselves to all the circumstances of such state. The smallest
resistance (of course there could be no resistance whatever on their
part, wounded unto death as they were) would be visited upon us all; we
would be shot in groups, and the hospital burned. Shortly after this
a 'section' (so-called) entered the hospital without any formality,
pistols in hand. The officers at once commandeered the autos in the
court, and demanded our entire supply of gasolene.
"Behind these advance soldiers, the German troops began to defile past
the windows in plain sight. Then came weary men covered with dust
and grime of the march, demanding food and drink. Some of these threw
themselves upon the cots beside the lesser wounded, and seemed instantly
to fall asleep.
"We were soon unable to reply satisfactorily to the questions of the
officers. They asked us, Frenchmen, how we found the French; if the
English were numerous; if they had burned the bridges. We answered
as well as we could, and as briefly as possible without giving them
offense. The rooms being full, we placed foot tubs in the court, and
attended to them. For the most part they impressed us filled with
a great anxiety, even fear...." (Here follow allegations that are
untranslatable--ignoble--they are omitted.)
"We saw from the windows regiments of men in gray passing in great
disorder, the men covered with dust and grime, and not always keeping
step. Great army wagons passed, the drivers of which slept nodding on
the seats. Some we saw fall as the wagons lurched. The horses seemed
spent, and only kept going because of heavy blows and prods from
bayonets.
"This army of invasion resembles more an army in retreat. Imagine
the state of affairs in this little city of Noyon, once so happy and
peaceful, now resounding with the noise of the great guns of the Germans
both day and night--nights of terror!
"All the grocery shops are pillaged and gutted, so also the pharmacies
and the bazaars.
"Many of the houses are turned into something like shops for the barter
of objects stolen by the soldiers in the town. In these furniture,
silver, objects of art and linen are exchanged and packed up to be
sent to Germany. The inhabitants are commanded to deposit with the
'Kommandantur' not only all firearms, but also all photographic cameras
and telephone instruments in their possession. All pigeons in the town
have been killed to prevent their being employed as messengers by the
people. In occupying Noyon, the Germans have attempted to strip the
place thoroughly of everything of value. Their hospital ambulances,
called 'lazarets,' are used to gather in the proceeds of their thefts.
"There is one at the theater, and others in the most important
establishments. Here all that is collected by the soldiers each day
is taken. The wine cellars have been emptied, it is said, and large
quantities shipped to Germany. It has for days now been impossible for
us to get a bottle of wine for our patients."