THE SIEGE AND FALL OF ANTWERP.
The main bodies of the Germans swept through Belgium into France in the
last week of August 1914, and the Belgian army, overwhelmed but
undismayed, retired on its great national bulwark of defence. Yet not
until 28th September did the curtain rise on the first act of Antwerp's
tragedy. Many people in this country thought that Antwerp would be left
alone until the conquest of France was complete. The Germans, indeed,
made a proposal to King Albert that, if he would promise to keep his
army quiet within the fortifications, the city would not be attacked.
You know enough of King Albert to be quite sure what his answer was.
Why did the Germans besiege Antwerp? Chiefly because they were well
aware that the Belgian army, now within the shelter of its forts, was in
a position to fall on the German flank whenever the chance might arise.
While Antwerp stood it was a source of serious anxiety to the German
Staff. All the country between Antwerp and the sea still remained in
Belgian hands, and thus Britain might send reinforcements to Belgium at
any moment. If she did so, the Germans would have to fight not only in
France but also in Belgium, where their communications were in danger of
being cut. While the Belgian army remained in being, a large German army
had to be kept in the country, and thus forces that were badly needed
elsewhere were not available. Further, the capture of this great port
would be a feather in the German cap, and would greatly hearten the
subjects of the Kaiser. There was need of a new victory to give them
cheer, for the retreat of their armies, and the deadlock that had now
set in on the Aisne, had dashed their hopes of that speedy success which
they had expected.
More than a month before the siege began, Antwerp had a foretaste of her
fate. "At eleven minutes past one o'clock on the morning of 25th August
death came to Antwerp out of the air." A Zeppelin suddenly appeared
overhead, humming like a swarm of angry bees. A few minutes later
something like a falling star dropped from it. Then there was a rending,
shattering crash, followed by another and still another. Buildings fell
as though a giant had hit them with a sledge-hammer. Ten people were
killed and forty wounded, and nearly a thousand houses were damaged. One
bomb was dropped within a hundred yards of the royal palace, in which
the king and queen were sleeping, and another fell within two hundred
yards of the Staff headquarters. It is said that one of the bombs fell
on the German club and destroyed a statue of the Kaiser!
On the same day the Belgians moved out of Antwerp and attacked the
Germans. They drove them out of Malines; but though they fought like
heroes, they were overpowered by the large numbers of fresh troops that
were hurried up. The Belgians were forced back once more, and at the
beginning of the last week in September the Germans in real earnest set
about the work of reducing the forts. They brought up their howitzers
south of the river Nethe, and on the 28th, at a range of seven and a
half miles, began to drop their shells on Forts Waelhem and Wavre Ste.
Catherine. There was not a gun in these forts that had a range of more
than six miles. The German fire was directed by observers in captive
balloons, and was very accurate.
All day the roar of big guns and the crash of bursting shells were
heard. Meanwhile the Belgians fought hard to the south of the Nethe, and
had some success. But it was clear to everybody that the forts would
soon be a heap of ruins. On the 29th Fort Wavre Ste. Catherine was
smashed beyond repair, and the magazine blew up. Waelhem was badly hit,
but managed to resist all day.
Next morning the German guns gave their full attention to Fort Waelhem
and Fort Lierre. The air was filled with shrieking shell and bursting
shrapnel. When the big shells, which the Belgians called "Antwerp
expresses," fell in a field, they threw up a geyser of earth 200 feet
high; when they dropped in a river or canal, a huge waterspout arose;
and when they fell on a village, it crumpled into complete ruin. A
shell that flew over Fort Waelhem fell on the waterworks and broke down
the embankment of the reservoir. The water poured into half a mile of
the Belgian trenches, and flooded out the defenders, who were thus
prevented from carrying supplies to the fort. Meanwhile the citizens
were short of water, and had no means of putting out any fires that
might arise. On Thursday, 1st October, all the southern forts were
destroyed, and by nightfall the Belgians had fallen back to the northern
bank of the Nethe, where trenches had already been prepared. Here, on
the second line of defence, they made a most stubborn stand. Within the
city there was still hope. Although the citizens could hear the faint
thunder of the guns, though they saw the dead and the wounded being
brought in, and German aeroplanes circling above them, they still hoped
that the enemy might be held off until the British could arrive and save
the city.
[Illustration: Belgians intrenched on the Nethe.
_Photopress._]
By the afternoon of 3rd October the prospect was black indeed. Forts
Waelhem and Lierre had been pounded into silence, and a strong German
force was striving to cross the Nethe. Already several pontoon bridges
had been built, but in each case they had been blown to pieces before
they could be used. Nevertheless every soldier knew that unless help
came the Germans were bound to be over the river before long. The
Belgians, who had been fighting desperately for a fortnight, were now
weary and heavy-eyed from lack of sleep; the hospitals were overflowing
with wounded; and the citizens began to lose heart. Preparations were
made to transfer the government to Ostend, and many of the well-to-do
inhabitants departed for Holland or England. The next day, however,
brought good news--a British force was coming with heavy guns.
At one o'clock on the afternoon of Sunday, 4th October, Mr. Winston
Churchill, the First Lord of the Admiralty, reached Antwerp, where he
remained for three days. He persuaded the authorities to continue their
resistance, and went out to the trenches, where he had a rather narrow
escape from a burst of shrapnel. His arrival awakened a new spirit of
hopefulness in the townsfolk.
Late that evening the vanguard of the British force arrived by train
from Ostend. It consisted of a brigade of marines, 2,000 strong. Without
an hour's delay the men were marched off to the trenches on the Nethe,
where they lay to the left of the weary Belgians, who were inspired to
fresh efforts at their coming. Next day the whole of the British force,
6,000 in all, arrived. Four battalions of marines were the only regulars
in the force; the remainder were volunteers, many of whom had never
before handled a rifle. Some of them had no pouches or water-bottles or
overcoats, while others had to stick their bayonets in their putties or
tie them to their belts with string. Each of the two naval brigades into
which the force was organized consisted of four battalions named after
famous admirals. The 1st Brigade consisted of the Drake, Benbow,[162]
Hawke,[163] and Collingwood[164] battalions; the 2nd Brigade, of the
Nelson, Howe,[165] Hood,[166] and Anson[167] battalions. There were many
London naval volunteers in one of the brigades. Though their equipment
was very imperfect and their training had scarcely begun, they fought in
the trenches with all the cheerfulness and doggedness of their race.
[Illustration: The Flight into Holland.
_From a picture by Allan Stewart._]
Much was expected from a British armoured train which had been built in
Antwerp, and was mounted with four 4.7-inch naval guns, worked by
Belgian gunners under the direction of British bluejackets.
Unfortunately it had but little opportunity of harassing the enemy.
That night the Germans tried hard to cross the river, but were driven
back by the British marines. Late on Monday, the 5th, there was a
terrible bombardment of the Belgian centre, and some thousands of
Germans either swam or waded across the stream, and dug themselves in on
the northern bank. Early on Tuesday morning the passage of the Nethe had
been won, and the defenders had been driven back upon the inner circle
of forts. The guns of these forts were out of date, and were hopelessly
outranged and outclassed by the howitzers of the enemy. The end was
drawing near.
By this time all the country between the inner forts and the Nethe was a
wilderness of death and desolation, of blackened ruins and smoking
haystacks, of torn and slashed fields, strewn with the bodies of the
slain. On Tuesday evening the situation was hopeless, and the government
left in haste for Ostend. The German general sent a flag of truce with a
demand for surrender, and threatened to bombard the city should it be
refused. The Belgians, however, would not yet give in.
That evening the great oil tanks on the western side of the Scheldt were
fired lest their contents should fall into the hands of the enemy. A
dense black mass of smoke drifted over the city, and the smell of
burning filled the air. The machinery of several large ships that might
prove useful to the enemy was also wrecked, and all munitions of war
were sent out of the city by rail.
Not until next morning did the citizens learn that the government had
departed. The newspapers announced that steamers were waiting at the
quays to carry the inhabitants into safety. In the great Zoological
Gardens keepers were busy shooting the fiercer wild animals. The Germans
had given notice that the bombardment of the city would begin at ten
o'clock that very evening. Then and only then did the courage of the
townsfolk fail. They saw their own soldiers streaming across the bridge
of boats towards the western bank of the river, and they knew that all
was lost. Then began an exodus from the city, the like of which has
probably never before been seen in all the world's history. Wellnigh
half a million fugitives, not only from Antwerp but from all the
countryside for twenty miles round, poured along the roads into Holland,
or struggled on the quays to escape by water. Every vessel, no matter of
what description, was pressed into service, and the broad stream was
choked with tramps, dredgers, ferry-boats, barges, yachts, tugs, and
even rafts, all packed with terror-stricken men, women, and children,
and the little belongings that they could carry with them. For hours the
overloaded craft lay in the stream, while the crowds on board watched
the flames leaping up from the buildings of the city, which had been
fired by bombs. As each bomb burst, a great sigh of terror went up from
the homeless, helpless thousands.
Even more terrible were the scenes along the highways, where soldiers
and civilians were mixed together in frightful confusion. An American
correspondent says:--
"By mid-afternoon on Wednesday the road from Antwerp to Ghent, a
distance of forty miles, was a solid mass of refugees, and the
same was true of every road, every lane, every footpath leading
in a westerly or a northerly direction. The people fled in motor
cars and in carriages, in delivery wagons, in furniture vans, in
farm carts, in omnibuses, in vehicles drawn by oxen, by donkeys,
even by cows; on horseback, on bicycles; and there were
thousands upon thousands afoot. I saw men trundling
wheel-barrows piled high with bedding, and with their children
perched upon the bedding. I saw sturdy young peasants carrying
their aged parents in their arms. I saw women of fashion in fur
coats and high-heeled shoes staggering along clinging to the
ends of wagons. I saw white-haired men and women grasping the
harness of the gun teams or the stirrup leathers of the
troopers, who, themselves exhausted from many days of fighting,
slept in their saddles as they rode. I saw springless farm
wagons literally heaped with wounded soldiers with piteous white
faces; the bottoms of the wagons leaked, and left a trail of
blood behind. . . . The confusion was beyond all imagination,
the clamour deafening; the rattle of wheels, the throbbing of
motors, the clatter of hoofs, the cracking of whips, the groans
of the wounded, the cries of women, the whimpering of children,
and always the monotonous shuffle, shuffle, shuffle of countless
weary feet."[168]
[Illustration: British Naval Brigade in the Trenches outside Antwerp.
_Photo, Newspaper Illustrations, Ltd._]
At least 200,000 of the refugees crossed into Holland, where they were
kindly received, and were provided with food and shelter. Some sought
refuge in England; but thousands of others fell by the wayside, where
they perished of exposure and starvation.
The remainder of the pitiful story is soon told. Once the German guns
were across the Nethe there was nothing left for the defenders to do but
to make for the coast with all speed, so as to escape from being cut off
by the enemy. By the morning of Friday, the 9th, nearly the whole of the
garrison was across the Scheldt. Three battalions of the British force
delayed their departure, and arrived on the bank of the river, to find
that the bridge of boats had been destroyed. They managed to cross on
rafts and barges; but one party, believing itself to be headed off by
the Germans, marched north into Holland. Another party was forced to
surrender, and a third sailed down the river and landed on Dutch
territory. Of course those who took refuge in Holland were
interned.[169] The British losses were 37 killed, 193 wounded, nearly
1,000 missing--that is, prisoners--and 1,560 interned in Holland. About
18,000 Belgian troops were also driven across the frontier, and many
were captured by the Germans. Thus in disaster and gloom ended the
gallant attempt to save Antwerp.
* * * * *
Two hours before midnight on the evening of Wednesday, 7th October 1914,
the great shells began to fall on the doomed city. It was almost as
deserted as a city of the dead. There were no lights in the streets;
but, as the shells exploded, lurid flames began to arise. On the Scheldt
barges were burning, and the waters beneath them glowed blood-red in the
light of the flames. As the huge projectiles struck the buildings they
collapsed like houses of cards, and soon there was scarcely a street in
the southern quarter of the town which was not battered into shapeless
ruin. The historical buildings of the city, however, were spared.
In the gray dawn of October 9th the bombardment ceased. Between eight
and nine o'clock the burgomaster went out to surrender the city. About
one o'clock the Germans marched in and tramped along the deserted
streets. Sixty thousand men in review order passed the new governor, but
there was not a living soul to greet them. Not a single spectator stood
on the pavement; no face was seen at a window; not a flag waved. The
American correspondent already quoted thus describes the march past:--
"Each regiment was headed by its field music and colours, and
when darkness fell and the street lamps were lighted, the shrill
music of fifes, the rattle of drums, and the tramp of marching
feet reminded me of a torchlight parade. Hard on the heels of
the infantry rumbled artillery, battery after battery, until one
wondered where Krupp found time or steel to make them. These
were the forces that had been almost in constant action for the
last two weeks, and that for thirty-six hours had poured death
and destruction into the city; yet the horses were well groomed
and the harness well polished. Behind the field batteries
rumbled quick-firers, and then, heralded by a blare of trumpets
and the crash of kettledrums, came the cavalry, cuirassiers in
helmets and breastplates of burnished steel, hussars in
befrogged jackets and fur busbies, and finally the Uhlans,
riding amid forests of lances under a cloud of fluttering
pennons. But this was not all nor nearly all. For after the
Uhlans came bluejackets of the naval division, broad-shouldered,
bewhiskered fellows, with caps worn rakishly and the roll of the
sea in their gait. Then Bavarian infantry in dark blue, Saxon
infantry in light blue, and Austrians in uniforms of beautiful
silver-gray, and last of all a detachment of gendarmes in silver
and bottle-green."
[Illustration: Antwerp under Bombardment.
(_From the picture by Cyrus Cuneo._)]
* * * * *
The curtain descends upon the tragedy of Antwerp, and as we rise from
its contemplation two pictures remain fixed in our memories--the one, a
march of triumph, with all the pomp and circumstance of war, the fanfare
of trumpets, the rattle of drums, the gay uniforms, the gallant
chargers, the nodding plumes, the stir and movement of victorious
legions; the other, long, long trails of anguished men, distraught
women, and sobbing children, bereft at one stroke of home, kindred, and
possessions, driven forth to perish of hunger by the wayside, to begin
life anew as exiles in a foreign land, or to return to their ruined
homes as the subjects of a pitiless conqueror. Never were the terrible
contrasts of war thrown into sharper relief; never was the ruthlessness
of armed strife so painfully brought home to the onlooking world. A
mighty nation, drunk with the lust of empire, had trampled to ruin a
little, toiling people, innocent of offence in the sight of God and man.
It had dared to defend itself, and for this heinous crime an
overwhelming foe "slew their young men with the sword in the house of
their sanctuary, and had no compassion upon young man or maiden, old man
or him that stooped for age." The blare of trumpets and the roll of
drums may stop the ears of men to every cry of agony, and deaden their
hearts to every impulse of mercy; but they can avail nothing before Him
who has said, "Vengeance is mine; I will repay."
[Footnote 162: (1653-1702.) Frequently defeated the French between 1690
and 1694, and in 1702, almost single-handed, fought a French fleet in
the West Indies for five days. He died from injuries received in the
battle.]
[Footnote 163: (1705-81.) His chief battle was a victory over the French
in Quiberon Bay (1759)--one of the most daring and successful actions on
record.]
[Footnote 164: (1750-1810.) The great friend of Nelson, to whom he was
second in command at Trafalgar.]
[Footnote 165: (1726-99.) His greatest exploit was a crushing defeat
inflicted on the French, from whom he took six ships, on "the glorious
First of June" 1794, off Ushant.]
[Footnote 166: (1724-1816.) He won many naval victories.]
[Footnote 167: (1697-1762.) Not only a great fighting admiral, but a
circumnavigator of the globe. The story of his _Voyage Round the World_
is still worth reading.]
[Footnote 168: Quoted from _Fighting in Flanders_, by E. R. Powell.]
[Footnote 169: A neutral state which receives in its territory troops
belonging to one or other of the armies engaged in war, keeps such
troops in its own hands until the end of the war, and must prevent them
from escaping. It clothes and feeds them, and the expenses so incurred
are made good at the end of the war by the Power to which the troops
belong.]
END OF VOLUME II.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN.
=Transcriber's Notes:=
original hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in
the original
Page 172/173, "slightly wounded The" changed to "slightly wounded. The"
Page 267, 'that he said.' changed to 'that he said."'
Page 285, "Europe put togethe" changed to "Europe put together"