were about fifty yards from them, they surged across the road and began
brandishing rifles, swords, lances--a veritable armory of deadly
weapons. Blount put on the emergency brakes, and we were bracing for
quick and voluble explanations when we saw that they were all grinning
broadly and that each one was struggling to get our particular
attention. We had our _laisser-passers_ in our hands, and waved them in
the air. No one would pay the slightest heed to them. From the hubbub
that was seething about our ears, we learned that ten minutes or so
before they had finished a little brush with the Germans, and that the
articles they had been waving in our faces were the trophies of the
combat. Each fellow was anxious to show us what he had taken, and to
tell just how he had done it. They seemed to take it for granted that we
were friends and would enjoy the sight, and share their delight. One of
the boys--a chap about eighteen--held aloft a huge pair of cavalry boots
which he had pulled off a German he had killed. It was a curious mixture
of childish pride and the savage rejoicing of a Fiji Islander with a
head he has taken. We admired their loot until they were satisfied, and
then prevailed upon them to look at our papers, which they did in a
perfunctory way. Then, after shaking hands all round, they sent us on
with a cheer. We were hero-curiosities as the first civilians who had
got through from the German lines since the occupation of Brussels. And
perhaps we were not glad to be safely inside the Belgian lines! It was
nervous work that far, but once inside we found everybody friendly and
got through without any trouble, although we were stopped every
kilometer or so. Soon after we passed the first outposts, we began
passing Belgian troops advancing toward Malines in large force. They
seemed in good spirits and ready for anything. Our position here has
gone steadily up since the beginning of the hostilities, and everywhere
we went, the flag was cheered and we got a warm welcome.
This forward movement of the troops was a part of a concerted operation
by which the Belgians were to attempt to push through to Brussels while
the main German army was engaged in attacking Mons and Charleroi.
About twelve kilometers out of Antwerp, we were stopped at a little
house and asked if we would take a wounded man into town to the
hospital. He had been shot through the hand and was suffering from shock
and loss of blood, but was able to chew on a huge chunk of bread all the
way into town. He had no interest in anything else, and, after trying
one or two questions on him, I let him alone and watched the troops we
were passing--an unbroken line all the way in. The main Belgian army and
a lot of the Garde Civique were inside the ring of forts and were all
being put on the road with full contingents of supply wagons,
ambulances, and even the dog artillery. These little chaps came tugging
along the road and turned their heads to bark at us with enthusiasm.
For a mile or so outside the _enceinte_, which has been thrown up around
the town, the roads are heavily mined, and small red flags planted
between the cobbles to warn passers-by to tread gently and gingerly. We
did not require the urging of the sentries to make us proceed with
caution over these places, which were so delicately mined that heavy
carts were not allowed to pass. I breathed more easily when we were once
out of this.
We found the military hospital and handed over our wounded soldier to
the attendants, who bundled him inside and then rushed back to hear what
we could tell them. They had not heard a word from the outside
world--or rather from our part of the outside world--since the
withdrawal of the Belgian army to Antwerp, and they greeted us as they
would greet fellow-beings returning from a journey to Mars. They had a
few newspapers which were being published in Antwerp, and handed them
over to us, we being as anxious as they for the news that we had not
been able to get.
From the hospital we drove to the Hôtel St. Antoine and asked for rooms.
The proprietor was very suspicious of us, and we had a tremendous time
convincing him that there was nothing the matter with us. He _knew_ that
we could not have come from Brussels, as nobody had been able to make
the trip. Our papers were _en règle_, but that made no difference.
German spies and other suspicious characters had managed to get forged
papers before that. Fortunately, all the other diplomats were living in
the hotel, and I asked that he hunt up some of them, and verify what we
had to say for ourselves. Webber, of the British Legation, was brought
out and acted as though he had seen a ghost. He calmed down enough to
assure the proprietor that we were respectable citizens, and that he
could safely give us rooms. All the other people were away from the
hotel for the moment, so we deposited our things in our room, and made
for the Consulate-General. It was then half-past six, and the
Consul-General had gone for the day. A well-trained porter refused to
tell where either he or the Vice-Consul-General lived, but we managed to
find out and got to the Vice-Consul-General's house after a hunt with a
_chasseur_ of the hotel on the box. He was not at home, but his wife
was there. We talked with her for a few minutes, and then went back to
the hotel to await Sherman's (Vice-Consul-General) coming. He called in
the course of a few minutes, and we made arrangements to go to the
Consulate after dinner and get off our telegrams.
By the time we could get washed up and ready for dinner, the crowd had
come back, and when we set foot on the stairway, we were literally
overwhelmed by our loving friends. First, I met Sir Francis Villiers and
accepted his invitation to dine. He and Prince Koudacheff, the Russian
Minister, a lot of other colleagues, and goodness only knows who else,
fell upon us with demands for news. I took refuge in Sir Francis's
office, and saw as many people as I could until dinner time. Baron van
der Elst, the Secretary General of the Foreign Office, and M. Carton de
Wiart, the Minister of Justice, forgetting all about the requirements of
the protocol that I should make the first call upon them, came flying
around to see if I had any news of their families. Luckily I had, and
was able to tell them that all was well. I did not know that I had so
much first-hand knowledge of the people in Brussels, but was able to
give good news to any number of people. It became a regular joyfest, and
was more fun for me than for anybody else. By eight o'clock we got out
to dinner, but hardly got two consecutive bites without interruptions.
In the midst of soup, General Yungbluth, Chief of Staff to the King,
came around in full regimentals and wanted to get all sorts of news for
the Queen. Before we got much farther, others began to arrive and drew
up chairs to the table, filling up all that part of the room. As we
were finishing dinner, several Ministers of State came in to say that
the Prime Minister wanted me to come to meet him and the Cabinet Council
which was being held--just to assure them that all was well with their
families and to tell them, in the bargain, anything that I felt I
properly could. However, I had my real work ahead of me--getting off my
telegrams to Washington. I tore myself away from the crowd and, joining
Sherman, who was waiting for me in the hall, I made for the
Consulate-General. The Consul-General was already there, anxious to hear
the news. I had to get before the Department all the news I could, and
as comprehensive a statement as possible of everything that had happened
since communications had been cut. I pounded away until after eleven,
and got off a fat bundle of cables, which Sherman took to the office for
me. I then made for the Grand Hôtel, where the Cabinet Council was
waiting for me.
I have never been through a more moving time than the hour and a half I
spent with them. It was hard to keep from bursting out and telling them
everything that I knew would interest them. I had bound myself with no
promises before I left about telling of the situation, but none the less
I felt bound not to do it. I was able to tell them a great deal that was
of comfort to them, and that could give no ground for objection if the
Germans were to know of it, and, on these subjects, I gave them all they
wanted. After telling them all I could about their families and friends,
I let them ask questions and did my best to answer those that I could.
The first thing they wanted to know was how the Germans had behaved in
the town. The answer I gave them was satisfactory. Then they wanted to
know whether the Royal Palace had been respected, or whether the German
flag was flying over it; also whether the Belgian flag still flew on the
Hôtel de Ville. Their pride in their old town was touching, and when
they heard that no harm had as yet been done it, you would have thought
that they were hearing good news of friends they had lost. Then they
started in and told me all the news they had from outside sources--bits
of information which had reached them indirectly via Holland, and the
reports of their military authorities. We have never had such complete
information given us--enough to justify the trip even if I had not
restored communication with the Department.
We stayed on and talked until nearly half-past twelve, when I got up and
insisted on leaving; perhaps it is just as well. They did not want to
break up the party, but when I insisted, they also made up their minds
to call it a day's work and quit.
We brought van der Elst back to the hotel, and with his influence ran
our car into the Gendarmerie next door. Then to bed.
Blount and I had a huge room on the third floor front. We had just got
into bed and were settling down to a good night's rest when there was an
explosion, the like of which I have never heard before, and we sat up
and paid strict attention. We were greatly interested, but took it
calmly, knowing that the forts were nearly four miles out of town and
that they could bang away as long as they liked without doing more than
spoil our night's sleep. There were eight of these explosions at short
intervals, and then as they stopped there was a sharp _purr_ like the
distant rattle of a machine gun. As that died down, the chimes of the
Cathedral--the sweetest carillon I have ever heard--sounded one o'clock.
We thought that the Germans must have tried an advance under cover of a
bombardment, and retired as soon as they saw that the forts were
vigilant and not to be taken by surprise. We did not even get out of
bed. About five minutes later we heard footsteps on the roof and the
voice of a woman in a window across the street, asking some one on the
sidewalk below whether it was safe to go back to bed. I got out and took
a look into the street. There were a lot of people there talking and
gesticulating, but nothing of enough interest to keep two tired men from
their night's sleep, so we climbed back into bed and stayed until
morning.
Blount called me at what seemed an unreasonably early hour and said we
should be up and about our day's work. When we were both dressed, we
found that we had made a bad guess, when he looked at his watch and
discovered that it was only a quarter to seven. Being up, however, we
decided to go down and get our breakfast.
When we got down we found everybody else stirring, and it took us
several minutes to get it through our heads that we had been through
more excitement than we wotted of. Those distant explosions that we had
taken so calmly were bombs dropped from a Zeppelin which had sailed over
the city and dropped death and destruction in its path. The first bomb
fell less than two hundred yards from where we slept--no wonder that we
were rocked in our beds! After a little breakfast we sallied forth.
The first bomb was in a little street around the corner from the hotel,
and had fallen into a narrow four-story house, which had been blown into
bits. When the bomb burst, it not only tore a fine hole in the immediate
vicinity, but hurled its pieces several hundred yards. All the windows
for at least two hundred or three hundred feet were smashed into little
bits. The fronts of all the surrounding houses were pierced with
hundreds of holes, large and small. The street itself was filled with
débris and was impassable. From this place we went to the other points
where bombs had fallen. As we afterward learned, ten people were killed
outright; a number have since died of their injuries and a lot more are
injured, and some of these may die. A number of houses were completely
wrecked and a great many will have to be torn down. Army officers were
amazed at the terrific force of the explosions. The last bomb dropped as
the Zeppelin passed over our heads fell in the centre of a large
square--la Place du Poids Publique. It tore a hole in the cobblestone
pavement, some twenty feet square and four or five feet deep. Every
window in the square was smashed to bits. The fronts of the houses were
riddled with holes, and everybody had been obliged to move out, as many
of the houses were expected to fall at any time. The Dutch Minister's
house was near one of the smaller bombs and was damaged slightly. Every
window was smashed. All the crockery and china are gone; mirrors in tiny
fragments; and the Minister somewhat startled. Not far away was Faura,
the First Secretary of the Spanish Legation. His wife had been worried
sick for fear of bombardment, and he had succeeded only the day before
in prevailing upon her to go to England with their large family of
children. Another bomb fell not far from the houses of the
Consul-General and the Vice-Consul-General, and they were not at all
pleased. The windows on one side of our hotel were also smashed.
[Illustration: Boy Scouts at Belgian headquarters, Lierre]
[Illustration: Reading from left to right: a Belgian Staff Officer,
Colonel Fairholme, Colonel DuCane and Captain Ferguson. (Malines
Cathedral in the background)]
[Illustration: "Hommage aux Glorieux Martyrs de Tamines, tombés dans la
Journée du 20 Août 1914". List of the civilians killed by the Germans at
Tamines on August 20, 1914.]
We learned that the Zeppelin had sailed over the town not more than five
hundred feet above us; the motor was stopped some little distance away
and she slid along in perfect silence and with her lights out. It would
be a comfort to say just what one thinks about the whole business. The
_purr_ of machine guns that we heard after the explosion of the last
bomb was the starting of the motor, which carried our visitor out of
range of the guns which were trundled out to attack her. Preparations
were being made to receive such a visit, but they had not been
completed; had she come a day or two later, she would have met a warm
reception. The line of march was straight across the town, on a line
from the General Staff, the Palace where the Queen was staying with the
royal children, the military hospital of Ste. Elisabeth, filled with
wounded, the Bourse, and some other buildings. It looks very much as
though the idea had been to drop one of the bombs on the Palace. The
Palace itself was missed by a narrow margin, but large pieces of the
bomb were picked up on the roof and shown me later in the day by
Inglebleek, the King's Secretary. The room at the General Staff, where
I had been until half an hour before the explosion, was a pretty ruin,
and it was just as well for us that we left when we did. It was a fine,
big room, with a glass dome skylight over the big round table where we
were sitting. This came in with a crash and was in powder all over the
place. Next time I sit under a glass skylight in Antwerp, I shall have a
guard outside with an eye out for Zeppelins.
If the idea of this charming performance was to inspire terror, it was a
complete failure. The people of the town, far from yielding to fear, are
devoting all their energies to anger. They are furious at the idea of
killing their King and Queen. There is no telling when the performance
will be repeated, but there is a chance that next time the balloon man
will get a warmer reception.
In the morning I went around and called at the Foreign Office, which is
established in a handsome building that belonged to one of the municipal
administrations. The Minister for Foreign Affairs took me into his
office and summoned all hands to hear any news I could give them of
their families and friends. I also took notes of names and addresses of
people in Brussels who were to be told that their own people in Antwerp
were safe and well. I had been doing that steadily from the minute we
set foot in the hotel the night before, and when I got back here, I had
my pockets bulging with innocent messages. Now comes the merry task of
getting them around.
At the hotel we were besieged with invitations to lunch and dine with
all our friends. They were not only glad to see somebody from the
outside world, but could not get over the sporting side of our trip,
and patted us on the back until they made us uncomfortable. Everybody in
Antwerp looked upon the trip as a great exploit, and exuded admiration.
I fully expected to get a Carnegie medal before I got away. And it
sounded so funny coming from a lot of Belgian officers who had for the
last few weeks been going through the most harrowing experiences, with
their lives in danger every minute, and even now with a perfectly good
chance of being killed before the war is over. They seem to take that as
a matter of course, but look upon our performance as in some way
different and superior. People are funny things.
I stopped at the Palace to sign the King's book, and ran into General
Jungbluth, who was just starting off with the Queen. She came down the
stairs and stopped just long enough to greet me, and then went her way;
she is a brave little woman and deserves a better fate than she has had.
Inglebleek, the King's Secretary, heard that I was there signing the
book, and came out to see me. He said that the Queen was anxious I
should see what had been done by the bombs of the night before. He
wanted me to go right into the houses and see the horrid details. I did
not want to do this, but there was no getting out of it under the
circumstances.
We drove first to the Place du Poids Publique and went into one of the
houses which had been partially wrecked by one of the smaller bombs.
Everything in the place had been left as it was until the police
magistrate could make his examination and report. We climbed to the
first floor, and I shall never forget the horrible sight that awaited
us. A poor policeman and his wife had been blown to fragments, and the
pieces were all over the walls and ceiling. Blood was everywhere. Other
details are too terrible even to think of. I could not stand any more
than this one room. There were others which Inglebleek wanted to show
me, but I could not think of it. And this was only one of a number of
houses where peaceful men and women had been so brutally killed while
they slept.
And where is the military advantage of this? If the bombs were dropped
near the fortifications, it would be easy to understand, but in this
instance it is hard to explain upon any ground, except the hope of
terrifying the population to the point where they will demand that the
Government surrender the town and the fortifications. Judging from the
temper they were in yesterday at Antwerp, they are more likely to demand
that the place be held at all costs rather than risk falling under the
rule of a conqueror brutal enough to murder innocent people in their
beds.
The Prime Minister told me that he had four sons in the army--all the
children he has--and that he was prepared to give every one of them, and
his own life and fortune, into the bargain, but that he was _not_
prepared--and here he banged his fist down on the table and his eyes
flashed--to admit for a minute the possibility of yielding to Germany.
Everybody else is in the same state of mind. It is not hysterical. The
war has been going on long enough, and they have had so many hard blows
that the glamour and the fictitious attractiveness of the thing has
gone, and they have settled down in deadly earnest to fight to the
bitter end. There may not be one stone left upon another in Belgium
when the Germans get through, but if these people keep up to their
present level they will come through--what there is left of them--free.
Later in the afternoon I went to the Foreign Office and let them read to
me the records of the commission which is investigating the alleged
German atrocities. They are working in a calm and sane way and seem to
be making the most earnest attempt to get at the true facts, no matter
whether they prove or disprove the charges that have been made. It is
wonderful to see the judicial way they can sit down in the midst of war
and carnage and try to make a fair inquiry on a matter of this sort. If
one one-thousandth part of the charges are proven to be true....
The rest of the afternoon was spent seeing people who came in for news
of Brussels, and who had messages to send home. I had had to tell the
hotel people that I would be there from four to seven to see people, and
that the rest of the time I must have free for my own work. They came in
swarms; all the diplomats, the Cabinet Ministers, and the Ministers of
State, army officers, and other officials--a perfect mob. I had a
package of cards on which I noted names and addresses and the messages
which were to be delivered. These messages have been sent out to-day,
after being submitted to the military authorities, some of them in
writing and some by word of mouth, and if they have afforded one-tenth
the comfort that I hope, the sum total of misery in this town has been
reduced a good deal this day.
Colonel Fairholme left for the front, with the King, early in the
morning, and was with him during the battle at Malines. He thought we
were going back during the day, as I had told him the evening before.
About noon he called up from the telephone and told Sir Francis that
under no circumstances was I to be allowed to start, as the town was
being bombarded with heavy siege pieces and all traffic was absolutely
stopped; that we could not only not get by, but that any part of the
trip by the regular road was extremely dangerous. I was just as glad
that we had decided to stay over. The Colonel stayed out all that night
and had not returned to Antwerp when we left yesterday. During the
morning he called up again and asked about us, again advising against
our starting. Pretty decent of a man who has as much to think of as he
had to be worrying about us enough to take time to telephone us as to
the dangers of the road.
During the evening bad news came in from France, and everybody was down
in the mouth. The French Minister came in and told me what he had
received. Everybody was plainly worried, and altogether things looked
pretty dismal. We sat around a little while and then decided for a good
night's sleep.
To make sure of offering no unnecessary chances for Mr. Zeppelin the
authorities had ordered all the lights on the streets put out at eight
o'clock. It was dark as midnight and there was no use in thinking of
venturing out into the town. The Cathedral clock was stopped and the
carillon turned off for the first time in heaven only knows how many
years. It was a city of the dead. Guns were posted in the streets ready
for instant use in case the airship should put in another appearance. As
a result of this and the searchlights that played upon the sky all
night, our friend the enemy did not appear. Some people know when they
have had enough.
Yesterday morning I looked out of my window at the Cathedral clock, and
saw that it was twenty-five minutes to ten. I tumbled through my tub,
and rushed downstairs to get through my morning's work, only to find
that it was half-past six. I had forgotten that the Cathedral clock had
been stopped.
It was just as well that I was up early, however, for there was plenty
to be done. I found a lot of telegrams waiting for me at the Consulate,
and had to get off another string of them. Then an orderly held me up on
the street to tell me that the King's Secretary was hunting for me all
over the place, and that I was wanted at the Palace. When I got there,
he had started off on another hunt for me. He finally got me at the
hotel, and kept me for half an hour.
By the time that I got through with him, there was word that the
Minister of Foreign Affairs wanted to see me, so I made a bee-line over
there. Then there was another call to the Consulate to answer some more
telegrams. After attending to various matters at the Palace, the
Ministry for Foreign Affairs, the Consulate General, and seeing a few
more people at the hotel, the morning was gone and it was time for lunch
and a quick get-away.
All hands came out and bade us farewell. You would have thought we were
on our way to Heaven, except for the fact that they urged us to come
back.