THE BELGIANS’ FIGHT WITH GERMAN HOSTS
[It is hard, in language, to express the thoughts that come to one in
contemplating the achievements of the Belgian Army at the outset of the
war. Undoubtedly the coming sure defeat of Germany is largely due to
the valiant stand which was made when the would-be all-world conquerors
overran and ravaged a little, beautiful and inoffensive neutral state.
The knell of Prussian doom was sounded first on Belgium’s battlefields.
It was believed that at the utmost Belgians could only make a pretence
of fighting; but the little army of our brave ally defied and held at
bay the braggart hosts of Germany in an almost incredible manner. What
happened in those fateful days, which seem so far and yet in reality
are so near is told by Soldat François Rombouts, of the 8th Regiment of
the Line, Belgian Army.]
I was in the Belgian Army before the war broke out. I was a conscript
of the 1913 class, and went to my regiment from the sea. For five years
I had been crossing the Atlantic in liners sailing from Antwerp--and
how beautiful it was in the summer-time on the blue sea, with the hot
sun shining; and how hard and cold in the winter, peering into the grey
gales from the crow’s-nest! I loved the sea, and I loved my regiment,
especially when I had my rifle in my hands and with my keen sea eyes I
could make out the Germans and use them as targets. I do not know how
many I shot--I hope and believe a big number--because when they fall
it may not be always to your own bullet. But I saw very many of them
fall before I was wounded and had to lie in bed for sixteen weeks,
helpless, like a child.
Look at my right arm. Here, on the inside, a bullet went in. If it
had been an ordinary bullet, like the one you show me--you say the
cartridge was given to you by a British Guardsman who was at Landrecies
and carried it there with him?--it would have gone through the arm and
made only a little hole, which would soon have become well; but the
bullet was explosive. See, here at the entrance is the small scar; but
at the outside of the arm there is this long and ragged blue mark,
because the bullet that struck me was what you call a dum-dum. Feel the
wound, it does not hurt me now. That hardness is bone. It was carried
away from the flesh and broken, and there it has set and will remain.
For many weeks my hand was like this--a bunch, you call it?--because I
could not open it out. I was hurt in other ways also by German fire;
but I am young--only twenty-two years--and very strong, and I may yet
again go back to the Belgian Army. If I do, and we get into Germany--as
we shall--for every Belgian life that has been taken we shall take one
German, and more; for every Belgian home that has been destroyed we
shall burn or destroy one, and more, and for all the innocent women and
little children and helpless old men that have been murdered we shall
make them pay in German soldiers and in German soil.
I have my mother and sisters still in Belgium, where the German beasts
are; and I do not know the truth of them. I pray that they are well;
but if I learn that they have come to harm I will never rest until
I have had my revenge in Germany. All Belgians will tell you the
same as that. How can it be otherwise when they have seen what I have
seen--their country run over and beaten down and taken by these German
hosts, who have swarmed over it like dirty beasts and fouled it?
How well I remember that night in Antwerp when the war broke out! It
was eleven o’clock and the church bells were ringing.
That was the sound of war.
Several days we had been out of barracks, enjoying ourselves; but this
night they would not allow us to go out.
My mother and sisters and brothers came, crying. They said, “The
Germans will kill you!” But I said, “Shut up! It will not be so.
Besides, I am a single man, and so I do not care. It is not as if I had
a wife and children.” So they were comforted, and I made myself happy
by myself.
We were singing and whistling and dancing all night in barracks; then
in the early morning we marched to Brussels, and after being there two
days we were ordered to take the train to go to Liège, to keep the
Germans back, and as we went along the people shouted, “Good Belgians!
Good Belgians!”
We went by train to Liège, fifty miles away. We had got the orders we
were waiting for in the evening--the orders to stop the Germans. If we
could not stop them there, we were told, they would get through. And
how true it proved!
We were in the train all night, singing and whistling, and all what we
can do in a train to make soldiers happy.
The regiment that had gone before my own regiment was fighting. We had
gone as reinforcements, and when we got to Liège at four o’clock on
that August morning and got out of the train, fighting was going on.
I saw the Germans at once--we went straight into the street from the
train and fought them.
We were excited, yes, but not afraid. They had come into our little
country, where they had no right to be, and our only wish was to drive
them away.
We rushed from the train with our loaded rifles. I did not know Liège.
It was all strange to me; but all streets are much the same, and it was
enough that the Germans were in them and must be driven out.
We fired on them, and they retired; but only a little way and for a
little while, because there were so many of them. And in the evening
they came back.
We fought them in the streets when they came, and we rushed into the
houses and shot them from the windows and doorways.
Even now, so soon, I learned the truth of what I had said to my weeping
mother in the barracks at Antwerp. She said, “The Germans will kill
you!” and I told her, “No. I am not afraid of anything. The Germans
cannot kill me!” And they did not--not then, and not later, though I
was shot in the right arm with an explosive bullet and afterwards in
the right foot, of which I will tell you.
I do not know whether I killed any Germans at Liège, but I hope I did.
You could see them falling over, but could not say who killed them.
We hated them because they had come into Belgium.
We were fighting all night, the rifles crackling because of the
constant firing of the magazines.
We chased the Germans into the fields outside Liège. We got at
stragglers with the bayonet, and we brought fifteen prisoners in.
How amusing it was when we caught them! They said, “Oh, my Belgian
brother!” We left them with contempt, and looked after other ones.
Then, when we had got them, they were sent to the station and so to
Antwerp.
The Germans came on in such strength that we could not stop them; but
in spite of all their guns and regiments we held Liège for twenty-four
days. We had only 300,000 Belgians in our army, and the Germans had
about a million; but I would not run away from fifteen Germans myself.
The Belgians called the Germans “swine,” and said, “we will be giving
the Germans one presently!”
And we gave them one.
We went into the trenches, and the Germans were bombarding us and
smashing the place up. We did as much as we could to keep them back.
Houses were smashed and everybody seemed to be killed or wounded. The
shells came on top of you and spread out like an umbrella. A lot of my
friends were killed and fell over in the trenches.
When we were in the trenches a man near me was not happy, because he
was married and his thoughts were with his wife and children and home;
but when we were going on firing I said, “Look! A German has fallen
over again!” And then he was happy. He was married and I was single,
and that made the difference.
If you had your friend in the trenches you did your best for him,
because you liked to take your friend home again; but many friends were
left in the trenches.
Did I see General Leman, the defender and hero of Liège? Oh, yes.
General Leman was a good man. He came round and saw the soldiers and
talked to us and made us happy.
I do not know how many we lost in Liège. We had a lot wounded and
killed and missing; but we only knew this from the newspapers.
We were on duty in the trenches for twenty-four hours, then we were
relieved. At the end of the twenty-four days for which we held Liège
we went to Anden, ten miles away. We retired in the daytime, without
any fighting, and were in Anden about fifteen days. We never saw the
Germans there.
And now I became a motor cyclist, which gave me many adventures and
exciting journeys. I was with a friend, a motor cyclist also, and we
were reconnoitring near Anden. We saw a big house, a château, standing
in its own grounds, with trees. They are beautiful and peaceful houses,
and you saw many of them in Belgium before the war.
“There are some Germans here!” my friend said. We looked and listened,
and what he said was true. There were Germans in the château, but how
many in number we did not know.
We hurried away to our officer and told him, and he sent three
companies of soldiers to attack the château. How well they marched up,
and how from behind the trees and other points of shelter they fired
upon that big house in the trees, with the Germans making themselves
happy in it.
I and my friend had acted as guides to the companies, and now we saw
the Belgian soldiers firing upon the château, and the surprised Germans
rushing to the windows and doors and behind the trees to fire back.
It was a furious fight, and it lasted for two hours. Then we got the
house--the Germans ran away, and we took it and occupied it. But next
day the Germans came back in stronger numbers and retook the château;
and the day after that we once more got the house and killed all the
Germans. We knew that we could not hold it long, because we had not
enough soldiers, and when we had been at the château for about four
hours, and the Germans came up stronger than ever, we had to leave. We
had not had many losses--two or three men killed. One was shot through
the heart, and another was mortally wounded and lived a few hours.
There is a river at Anden, and when we retired we had to cross a
bridge. When we had crossed the bridge we blew it up, so that the
Germans should be delayed in pursuing us. Then, when we were retiring,
and had seen the bridge destroyed, we were made unhappy because we saw
that on the other side of the water, which was now the German side,
there was a company of Belgian infantry, which could not cross.
It was terrible and sad. What was to be done? How were our comrades
to be saved, to come to us, to be kept from capture or killing by the
Germans?
The commander of the company was quick to think and act. He knew that
at Namur there were some boats, three or four of them. He ordered a
cyclist to go and have the boats sent to Anden, so that the men could
cross. And the cyclist went. It seemed so long before the boats came;
but they appeared at last, and the soldiers got into them, crowding
five and six in one small boat, and then being rowed over the river.
All the time the Germans were firing on the company from the big hills
which are there; but we could not fire back, and all we could do was
to watch our comrades on the other side of the river, walking about and
eagerly waiting for the boats. They tumbled into the boats and came
across the river to us, and we shouted and laughed when they were near
enough for us to get at them, and to help them to jump on to the bank
and to say defiance to the German bullets.
There is a railway tunnel at Anden, and we were ordered to go to it. We
went. There is a big wood at the tunnel, and from this wood there came
a party of Uhlans, fifteen of them, commanded by a lieutenant.
Three or four Belgians fired on the cavalry, who were taken by
surprise. The lieutenant was shot in the side, next his heart, and he
fell from his horse. The soldiers went up to him to make him prisoner
of war, but he did not want to be taken, and he fired on them with his
revolver. So it was necessary for them to shoot him, and they did.
When he was killed four soldiers carried him on two rifles, one under
his back and one under his legs, to the major of the Belgian battalion,
who ordered that he should be buried. So a grave was dug and the
lieutenant was buried, and planks were put over him, and he was left
there to his rest, and we attended to the German wounded.
After what happened by the railway tunnel we were ordered to make
trenches; but the Germans came up and forced us to retire to Namur, an
old city and fortress.
We saw many refugees who were flying from the Germans, who had come and
stolen their land and plundered it and overrun it like dirty beasts.
There were old men and women and children, and it was pitiful to see
them; yet it made us fiercer in our fighting with the Germans.
Near Anden I saw a column of refugees, a little line of about
thirty-five people, and at the head of them was a man dressed like a
tourist, with a soft hat, breeches and leggings. He was looking under
trees and all around him, as if taking care of the refugees.
Then, when we had seen this tourist, a boy came up to me on a bicycle,
and said, “There is a German spy!”
I called my corporal, and instantly we had soldiers searching in the
trees and fields and everywhere; but we did not see another trace of
the “tourist,” who was the German spy, though we did not suspect it
when we saw him leading the refugees like a shepherd leads his flock.
That was sad, to miss him so; but another spy I got at Namur. I saw a
man standing amongst the trees, dressed in civilian clothes. He was
about fifty-nine years old and had long whiskers, such as you see on
many tourists.
I went up to him as he was standing by a tree. I was alert, for I was
reconnoitring and expected things to take place.
Before he could understand me and be ready to explain, I rushed at him
and had him by the arms and held them to his back. My comrades came up
and sent him with his long whiskers to the regiment. I do not know what
happened to him. I hope they shot him.
I have here in my pocket an electric lamp with a bull’s eye. It gives a
fine strong light. No, this is not what I carried in Belgium, because
I exchanged mine with an Englishman for his; but it is just the same.
And with these pocket electric lamps we used to search the houses for
Germans that were hiding from us. We would find them in dark corners
and cellars, and when the light was snapped on them they would throw up
their hands and cry, “Oh, my Belgian brothers!”
Then we would say, “Come out of it, and we will give you Belgian
brothers!” But we always made them prisoners, and did not kill them.
It was “Belgian brothers!” when death was on them, but in the trenches
they called us “Belgian swine” and “little devils.” We gave them
“swine” presently.
We had been fighting much and had been in the trenches many days, so
that we were very tired, and thankful to get three or four days’ rest
in Namur. Then, after that blessed change, we went into the firing
again, which was shrapnel, and terrible.
Namur was a very strong place and was not expected to fall; but the
Germans had made long preparations for the war, and were bombarding
with enormous guns--I saw German guns that took twenty-two horses to
draw them.
At Namur we lost a lot of men, because of the heavy gun-fire. All the
wounded soldiers and prisoners of war were there; but the Germans did
not care about that--they fired on the hospital and smashed it up. When
we lost Antwerp the prisoners of war were taken away; but when we lost
Belgium we could not keep the prisoners, and the Germans got them back
again.
After the battle of Namur the regiment was smashed up, like many
others. Every man was looking after himself and trying to find his own
regiment, which was not easy.
Here is a photograph of Namur, showing the bridge which crosses the
river. I was the last man to cross the bridge when we were forced to
leave Namur; and for two nights I was in one of these old houses which
you can see here in the picture. When I was over the bridge I met a
couple of men of my company, and we watched some firing in the distance
and felt happy, because we knew that it was the firing of French
soldiers, who were just outside Namur.
We were stragglers, and I and a corporal joined the Frenchmen. It was
now that many Belgians who were caught by the Germans were shot--yes,
in threes and fours Belgians were shot by Germans.
There are good Germans and bad Germans; but more bad Germans than good
ones.
We crossed the frontier and got into France, and rested ourselves. I
found some of my old friends again, but not all, because a lot had been
lost.
In France we made up the regiment again. I had got to Le Havre, and
from there I went to Ostende. We had two days in Ostende, then I went
back to my dear Antwerp, which was before the Germans got there. From
Antwerp I went to Conte, where we had a fortnight’s rest, after which
we went to Malines. There was not much fighting at Malines, but there
had been a lot before we got there, and the place had been destroyed.
At that time the Germans were holding the town, but we drove them out.
Afterwards we lost it, because they came in heavy numbers, and we could
not stop the big guns.
We went up to Conte again about four o’clock in the morning, and later
we advanced to Termonde, about twenty-five miles from Antwerp. Our 1st
battalion had been ordered to attack Termonde, and the 2nd was stopping
outside for reserve.
We saw our 1st battalion go and assault the place; and then we saw
it come back, and sad it was to see them, because those who returned
were mostly wounded men in ambulances. There were many wounded, as the
attack had lasted three hours and our comrades had had to cross the
river under fire.
Then it was, when the wounded began to come back in the ambulances,
that we were ordered to go in and push the Germans back. We had to go
over some fields, and crossing them was like walking on rubber, because
of the dead bodies. These bodies had been taken from the trenches, when
it was no longer possible to have them there, and had been put in the
fields. Sometimes they had been in the trenches three or four days, and
we had to eat and drink and sleep with them there. And in the fields
that felt like rubber, there were arms and legs and heads sticking out.
Ah, yes, it was horrible indeed. And this was the war that the Germans
had brought into our little country, which had done them no wrong
whatever, and where they had no right to be. It will be the same for
them when we get into Germany!
In Termonde it was fierce fighting all the time I was there, and that
was for six days. And I tell you that we Belgians did fight; for when
we went into Termonde, driving the Germans out, we saw the bodies of
women and children and old men that they had massacred--and most of us
were crying as we passed them. The Germans can do what they like in
wartime, and these were some of the things they liked.
When we saw the Germans at Termonde, after seeing those murdered women
and children and old men, we rushed at them with the bayonet, burning
to drive our steel into the monsters.
We rushed up to them in our fury, and I drove my long bayonet at a
German soldier. I struck at him blindly, but I do not know where I hit
him, because at such a time you look after one German and then after
another, so that you shall get many of them; but his own bayonet came
at me and cut across my right fingers. You can see the scars here--but
they are nothing.
It was hard and fierce work; but I was still well. I was tired and
sleepy at the end, and was almost killed by bursting shrapnel. Pieces
struck me, and one went through my right boot and between the toes. But
that also was nothing.
The evening came, and it was just dark. That was October 1st. I had
been in the trenches, and was lying down under some trees, resting.
Firing was going on still, but we were indifferent to it, and I did
not care until I was struck on the right arm by an explosive bullet,
a dum-dum. I was lying there, bleeding, with my badly torn arm, for
three-quarters of an hour; then some of my friends came and picked me
up and gave me a drink and bandaged my arm. At nine o’clock a doctor
came along and sent me to a church, which was being used as a hospital.
There I spent the night, waiting for the morning, when I was to have an
operation.
The morning came, and brought with it one of the strange adventures of
a soldier in the war.
I was taken on a wheeled ambulance to a part of the church which was
used as an operating-room, and there my torn arm was treated, without
pain to me. A nun, who like her other sisters of mercy was a nurse, had
the care of me, and she was wheeling me back to my bed.
There was the big entrance to the church near my bed, and as I was
being wheeled I saw in that entrance many German soldiers, who were
about to rush into the church and seize it.
Quick as thought my nurse wheeled me back, and rushed with me to a door
at the back of the church, and out into the open air. She was quite
calm, which was well for me, and she hurried me to an English motor
ambulance, which was standing at the door and had one English soldier
in.
The nun cried to the chauffeur, saying that the Germans were taking the
church, and telling him to help her to push me into the ambulance.
The chauffeur, who was an Englishman, quickly and calmly obeyed, and he
and the nun got me inside, on my stretcher; then the chauffeur jumped
up into his seat, and the motor ambulance tore away and took me into
Antwerp. I was in hospital in my native city two days, when the Germans
bombarded the city. I was there during the whole of the bombardment;
then when the Germans took Antwerp my mother took me out of hospital.
There was much excitement and commotion, and it was not a happy thing
to be wounded then; but an English ambulance came, and I was asked if I
could speak English. I said “Yes.”
“Do you want to go to Ostende?” the man asked, and again I said “Yes.”
It was a time for haste. A few minutes more, and if I had not been able
to speak English I should have been too late, for the train into which
I was put by an English marine was the last to leave Antwerp before the
Germans entered the city.
Again the Germans came to where I was, and so I had to leave Ostende.
I went from there by train to France, and from France I came to England.
I still stop in England. It is a good country, and I feel safe here.
It is strange to see beautiful cities not bombarded and smashed by the
Germans, and not to see the worst of all--the murdered little children.
If the Germans were in this country it would be just the same, or worse.
I think much of my country, little but beautiful, as it was; but ruined
now.
I am young. When I am old Belgium may be as it was before.
I have an eager wish, and to have it fulfilled would make me very happy
indeed--and that is to see Belgian, English, and French soldiers march
into Germany!