troops outside the town. When they got back to Ghent, the Military
Governor disavowed the arrangement on the ground that the Burgomaster
had no right to enter into an agreement with the Germans and that he, as
Military Governor, was the only one with any authority to deal with
them. He therefore declared that no supplies should be sent. The
Burgomaster telegraphed the Prime Minister in Antwerp, and placed the
entire situation before him, and Monsieur de Brocqueville promptly
telegraphed back that since the American Vice-Consul had given his word
of honour to the German General it was impossible to disavow the
agreement, and that the supplies should be sent out immediately. This
was a pretty high stand for the Belgians to take, but they feel that Van
Hee saved Ghent from destruction, and are correspondingly grateful to
him.
Getting around Antwerp in the evening is quite an undertaking at this
time; no street lamps are lighted, all the window shades lined with
black, and heavy black shades are placed over the small electric lights
in the courtyards of hotels, etc.--all of this to keep from giving any
indication to the Zeppelins as to where to drop their visiting cards. A
heavy detachment of soldiers guards the approach to the Saint Antoine,
and there are patrols in all the streets. The few motors allowed on the
street have no lights, and are stopped by all the patrols, who do not
call out but rise up silently in front of you and demand the password.
It is a ticklish business finding one's way. The big searchlights on the
forts sweep the skies from nightfall until dawn, making a wonderful sort
of fireworks.
When I got back to the hotel I found Prince Caraman Chimay waiting for
me with a message from the Queen. Also poor Prince Ernest de Ligne,
whose son, Badouin, was killed in one of the armoured motors several
days ago.
Young de Ligne, who was a volunteer, was in one of three armoured cars
that went out on a reconnaissance toward the German lines. Just before
entering a sunken road between two fields they stopped a Flemish peasant
and asked him whether there were any Germans anywhere about. The peasant
told them that three Uhlans had been seen a short time before but they
had gone away. The three motors, de Ligne in the first, started down and
were attacked by about forty Germans under command of a major. De Ligne
was shot in the head and died shortly afterwards. The man who took his
place at the wheel was killed, and several others of the party were also
badly wounded and have since died. The third motor came up from some
little distance behind and opened on the Germans, killing or wounding
nearly all of them, including the officer, who was killed.
A young chap named Strauss, whose mother was an American, had the
mitrailleuse in his car, and stood upright, firing upon the Germans
without being touched by the heavy rifle fire that they directed against
him. When the Germans had been put to flight he and the other survivors
got the three cars into running order, and brought them all back to
Antwerp, where de Ligne and two of the others died.
Prince Ernest had a hard time getting through from Brussels, and was
fired on several times by the German troops, who were even more nervous
than in the morning, when I came through. One of his nephews has also
been killed, and another nephew, Prince Henri de Ligne, is in the
aviation corps, and has been in the thick of it ever since the beginning
of the war. He and his wife are also staying at the Saint Antoine.
On Thursday morning I got caught in another avalanche of telegrams and
had to spend a couple of hours at the Consulate-General polishing off
and finishing business. Stopped in at the palace on the way back and saw
General Jungbluth, who showed me the latest telegrams. I gathered up
what newspapers I could beg or buy and stuffed them into a military
pouch to take back. Had an early lunch, gathered up M. de Woeste and
Faura, whom I was to bring back, and started about one. We got through
Malines, across the only one of the three bridges which is left, and
started down the bank of the canal toward Hofstade, where Herwarth was
to meet us at two o'clock. There was heavy firing by small guns ahead
and a certain amount of protective firing from the forts behind us, with
the shells singing high above our heads, but we thought that it was
probably aimed further to the south and that we could get through.
Just at the edge of Malines we were startled by a tremendous report
near-by, and on getting out to reconnoitre I discovered a Belgian
battery, which had been established near the Convent of the Dames de
Coloma. The commanding officer of the battery, Major Nyssens, whom I had
known in Brussels, advised us to wait a little to see if there was a
lull in the fighting, so that we would get through. We went into the
convent to wait and were warmly received by a little Irish nun, who
showed us the park and pictures by way of entertainment, although we
felt a much greater interest in the banging of the battery. After a bit
Major Nyssens sent out a messenger to the farthest battery to see
whether they were prepared to stop firing for a little while to let us
scuttle through to Hofstade. Presently an answer came back that at 2:10
the firing would be stopped for twelve minutes to let us through. We
were in the motor ready to start when another messenger came from the
outer battery saying that the Germans were prepared to move up their
battery from the bridge at Hofstade--the very spot we were making for,
if there were any lull in the firing and that the Belgian battery could
not stop without endangering its position.
We then decided to go back to Malines and to try a direct road by way of
Sempst and Villevorde. On parting I gave Nyssens all my cigars, knowing
I should find plenty when I got back to Brussels, and he, in a burst of
gratitude, gave me a tiny revolver taken off a dead German officer a few
hours before. Immediately after getting the revolver Nyssens' orderly
had handled it rather carelessly, and shot himself in the stomach. To
make sure of doing nothing equally foolish, I took out the remaining
cartridges and chucked them in the canal as we rode back to Malines.
About a kilometer out of Malines we ran into a considerable detachment
of Belgian infantry and lancers and a large armoured motor with two
mitrailleuses. We were told that the Belgians had taken and retaken
Sempst three times during the day, and while neither side occupied the
town at that precise moment they were both advancing on it, and that it
might be rather warm for ordinary motors. They finally agreed to let us
talk to the commanding officer, who turned out to be none other than
Colonel Cumont, the owner of the building occupied by the Legation.
He was up on a railway embankment, lying on his stomach between the
rails, watching some German patrols through a pair of big field glasses,
and when we hailed him, rolled gracefully over the side, and came down
to talk to us. He had been out on the track most of the time for three
days and was a rather disreputable-looking person, but apparently glad
of a chance to talk with someone from the outside world.
He said he thought we would have time to get through before the row
began, and in any event he would warn his men so that if we came
scuttling back we would be given the right of way to safety.
We passed several Belgian patrols along the way and finally got into the
town, which showed clear evidences of fighting; some of the houses were
burned to the ground, and all that were standing had their doors and
windows smashed, furniture broken, and strewn about the floors with
broken bottles and dishes, mattresses and goodness knows what else; and
above all arose that terrible smell of burnt flesh.
We were nearly through the town when we were hailed by a detachment of
about twenty Belgians, who had got through and occupied the grounds of a
villa on the edge of the village. We stopped the car, and I got out and
went ahead, they remaining with leveled rifles, in their usual
hospitable manner. When I got to within twenty feet of them we heard the
whirr of a machine gun--which the Belgian soldiers call a _cinema_--and
a German armoured car poked its nose around the corner for a look-see.
It was firing high to draw a return fire and locate any Belgians there
might be in the town, but they all scurried behind cover, closely
followed by me. They were taking no chances, however, and called me to
stay in the middle of the road. Without wasting any time in formality I
made clear my identity, and, on being shown through a breach in the wall
a disagreeable-looking body of German infantry and lancers about a half
a mile away approaching through a field, I decided that we were on the
wrong road and made back for the motor.
I told my passengers what was up, and that we had to go back to Malines.
M. de Woeste, however, was all for going through on the valid plea that
he had no clean linen and did not want to spend another night out of
Brussels. Nevertheless we turned around and started back, only to rush
into the big Belgian armoured car which Colonel Cumont, hearing firing,
had sent down to rescue us and cover our retreat. This car stayed in the
village for a few minutes to meet the German car, fired a few shots at
it, and then came back to the outposts.
We then tried getting out toward the west from Malines, but soon came to
a point where the road was inundated, and had to turn back for the third
time. It was then getting pretty late in the afternoon, and even M. de
Woeste had to admit that we had best come back to Antwerp rather than
try to make a roundabout journey to Brussels after dark.
All the way back into Antwerp we met Belgian forces advancing to the
attack. They are getting to know the flag better every day and we were
greeted with waving hands and cheers everywhere we went. When nearly in
town, a young chap ran out of the ranks to where we were waiting for
them to get by, grabbed me by the shoulder, and said:
"I am born an American."
"Where were you born?"
"Aurora, Illinois. My father worked in ----'s glycerine works."
"Who do you know in Aurora?"
"I know Mr. Evans and Mr. ---- and Mr. ---- and Mr. _Beaupré_."[7]
"What's your name?"
Just then a non-commissioned officer came along and ordered him back
into the ranks; the motor started ahead, and I lost track of the boy in
a cloud of dust.
[Footnote 7: Former American Minister at The Hague.]
At the edge of town we caught up with a British Legation motor, which
was stopped at a railroad barricade. Its occupants roared with laughter
when they saw us, and Colonel Fairholme gloated particularly, as he had
prophesied that we would not get through. When we got back to the hotel
we were met with more laughter. It was the great joke of the week to see
the only people who had previously been successful in running the lines,
caught like the rest of them. I was not at all down in the mouth, as
Antwerp was most interesting, and I had left only because I had felt it
my duty to get back to work and to keep the Minister from worrying. When
I saw that there was no way of getting through I gladly accepted the
decree of fate.
When we got back to Antwerp I soon learned that it would be out of the
question to get back to Brussels the next day, or perhaps even the day
after that. The Belgians were advancing to an enveloping movement and
all the surrounding country was to be covered with Belgian troops in an
endeavour to deal a smashing blow to the Germans and compel them to
bring back more troops from the front in France. Colonel Fairholme asked
me to accompany him to the front next morning, and I accepted with an
alacrity which startled him.
After dinner I made another excursion into the darkness and told
Monsieur de Woeste that there was no prospect of getting back to
Brussels the next day. His colleagues, who were there also, impressed
upon him the futility of going, and he finally resigned himself to
staying, although he kept insisting that he infinitely preferred danger
to boredom, which was his lot so long, as he had nothing to do but sit
around the hotel.
Friday morning while I was waiting for the Colonel to get ready and was
doing my little errands down town, there came a great roaring of a
crowd, and the chauffeur, knowing my curiosity, put on steam and spurted
down to the boulevards just in time to run into a batch of three hundred
German prisoners being brought in. They were a dejected-looking crowd,
most of them Landsturm, haggard and sullen. The crowd, mindful of the
things the Germans have been doing to this little country, were in no
friendly mood, but did nothing violent. There was only a small guard of
Belgian Garde Civique to escort the prisoners, but there were no
brickbats or vegetables. The people limited themselves to hoots and
catcalls and hisses--which were pretty thick. And even this was frowned
upon by the authorities. Within a couple of hours the Military Governor
had posted a proclamation begging the people of Antwerp to maintain a
more dignified attitude and to refrain from any hostile demonstration
against other prisoners. This batch was surrounded, and caught at
Aerschot, where the Germans are said to have committed all sorts of
atrocities for the past three weeks. Among the prisoners was the
commanding officer, who was accused of being responsible for a lot of
the outrages. He was examined by the military court, which sits for the
purpose, and admitted having done most of the things of which he was
accused, pleading in his own defence that he had done them only in
obedience to superior orders, to which he had protested. The soldiers
who made the capture disclaimed a large part of the credit for it on the
ground that most of the Germans were drunk and that they were too dazed
to get to their arms. Stories of this sort keep piling in from every
side.
We got away at eleven to Lierre, where the King has established his
headquarters for his movement. The road lay to the southeast and was
through country I had not traversed before. The aspect was the same,
however--long stretches of destroyed houses and felled trees,
barbed-wire entanglements and inundated fields. It is a mournful sight.
Little Lierre was unharmed, and I hope it may remain so. The Grande
Place was filled with staff motors, and there was a constant coming and
going of motors and motorcycles bearing messengers to and from the field
of operations. Headquarters was established in the Hôtel de Ville, which
bears on its tower the date 1369--a fine old building, not large, but
beautiful.
In the morning a message had come ordering Colonel DuCane back to
England. He was out in the field, and we had to wait until he came in to
deliver it to him. The King was also away, but we put in our time
talking with the officers on duty as to the movement and its progress,
and then went out for a stroll around the town. We looked into the old
church, and I stopped and bought an officer's forage cap as a souvenir
of the place. By the time we had poked around the neighbourhood and
inspected the other _Sehenswürdigkeiten_ of the town it was lunch time
and we joined an officers' mess in the back room of a little café on the
square, and then, to kill time, sat in front of another café and had
coffee and a cigar.
We could not get started until Colonel DuCane had returned and received
his message, so we sat in front of our little café and growled. It was
maddening to waste our time there while the guns were thundering all
around us and we knew from the signs of activity at headquarters that
big things were toward. After a time a little man, the Senator for the
district, came out and asked us into his house, directly across the
street from the Hôtel de Ville. It was raining hard and we were ready
for a change, so we accepted gladly and were entertained with champagne
and cigars to the music of falling rain and booming cannon.
Our Senator was very much down in the mouth about the situation in
general and wanted to talk about it. The Colonel told him of the
bulletins that had been published in Antwerp as to the progress of the
campaign, and as this went on he cheered up visibly minute by
minute--whether as a result of the good news or the champagne, I don't
know.
The Colonel was called away after a time to talk to Lord Kitchener over
the telephone. Kitchener keeps himself informed directly as to the
progress of operations and the knowledge that he may drop in over the
telephone at any minute gives his officers a very comforting feeling
that they are not forgotten.
Finally, after dark, Colonel DuCane and Captain Ferguson came in, and we
got under way. It was too late to go forward with hopes of seeing
anything, but it was evident that things would be as hot as ever the
next day and that I could not hope to get my charges back to Brussels.
Accordingly the Colonel's invitation was extended and accepted, and we
turned back toward Antwerp considerably disappointed.
While we were waiting around trying to make up our minds--if any--I ran
into young Strauss, the half-American, who was in the armoured car
behind young de Ligne. He was really the principal hero of the occasion,
having stood bolt upright in his car and riddled the German forces with
his mitrailleuse until the few survivors turned and fled. He had with
him two of the other survivors of his party. All of them had been
decorated with the Order of Leopold for their behaviour. An order like
that looks pretty well on a private's uniform, particularly when given
with such good reason.
We had retreated inside the Hôtel de Ville during a particularly heavy
downpour of rain, when in came the King, who had spent the whole day in
the field with the troops. He was drenched to the skin, but came briskly
up the steps, talking seriously with his aide-de-camp. He stopped and
spoke with us all and took Colonel DuCane into his study and had a few
minutes talk with him by way of farewell. The King shows up finely in
the present situation and all the foreign military attachés are
enthusiastic about his ability. He is in supreme command of the army and
no detail is too insignificant for his attention.
[Illustration: At Malines--a good background for a photograph to send
home to Germany]
[Illustration: His Eminence, Cardinal Mercier, Archbishop of Malines]
We got the password and made back for Antwerp in the dark, leaving
Colonel DuCane and Captain Ferguson to spend the night at Lierre. We
were in bad luck and got stopped at every railroad crossing along the
way. Troop and supply trains were pouring down toward the front and Red
Cross trains were bringing back the wounded in large numbers. Both sides
must have suffered heavily during the day, and there may be several days
more of this sort of fighting before there is a lull.
When we got back to the hotel we found Sir Francis waiting for us with a
glowing telegram and an equally glowing face. It was the most
enthusiastic message yet received from the British War Office, which has
been very restrained in its daily bulletins. For the first time that day
it spoke with a little punch, speaking of the "routed enemy" and their
being "vigorously pressed." We tumbled through a hasty bath and got down
to dinner in short order.
After dinner it was the same old performance of going over to the Grand
Hôtel and labouring with Monsieur de Woeste, who was still bent on
getting home to his clean linen without further delay. It took the
united arguments of the Cabinet, which was in session, to convince him
that it would be useless and foolish to try to get away. Finally he
yielded, with a worse grace than on the previous evening. I had a
comfortable visit with several of the Ministers, who were glad to hear
news of their families in Brussels, and asked me to remember all sorts
of messages to be given on my return. I only hope that I shall not get
the messages mixed and get too affectionate with the wrong people. The
Cabinet was going through the latest telegrams from the various fields
of action. They even had some from Servia and were decidedly cheered up,
a big change from the dogged determination with which they were facing
bad news the last time I was in Antwerp.
Saturday morning the Colonel and I were called at six, and at seven we
got away in a pouring rain over the same road to Lierre that we had
travelled the day before. There was a big force of workmen hard at it in
the vicinity of the outer forts, burning houses and chopping down trees
and building barbed-wire entanglements. It is a scene of desolation, but
it is necessary in a fight like this.
We found things moving rapidly at headquarters in Lierre. Messengers
were pouring in and orders going out with twice the activity of the day
before. The movement had been under way for two hours when we got there
and the guns were booming all around. After learning as much as we could
of the disposition of the troops we went out and stocked up with bread,
cheese, and mineral water, and started forth to see what we could of the
operations. We took along a young officer from headquarters to show us
the road. We soon saw that he did not know the roads and could not even
read a map, and had to take over that work ourselves. Colonel Fairholme
and I went in my motor with the headquarters passenger and Colonel
DuCane and Ferguson followed in their own car with an orderly. We got to
Malines without difficulty and got out for a look at the Cathedral. It
is a dreadful sight, all the wonderful old fifteenth century glass in
powder on the floor. Part of the roof is caved in and there are great
gaping holes in the lawn, showing where the shells struck that fell
short of their mark. A few of the surrounding houses, belonging to
entirely peaceful citizens, were completely wiped out while they were
getting the range. It is hard to see what useful military purpose is
served by smashing churches and peaceful habitations, when there are no
troops about the place. Malines was bombarded when the troops had
withdrawn. It is hard to reconcile with _Gott mit uns_.
Before we left Lierre, nine troopers of the Landsturm were marched into
the hallway of the Hôtel de Ville, to be examined by the officer who is
there for that purpose. They were a depressed lot who had run away and
given themselves up, so as to be spared the hardships and dangers of the
rest of the war. They answered questions freely, telling all they knew
as to the disposition of troops and making their get-away toward the
local lockup with great alacrity as soon as the word was given to move.
Most of them were Bavarians. Colonel Fairholme speaks German like a
native. He talked with these chaps, and there was some interesting
conversation. They were all without enthusiasm for the war, and all
expressed indignation at having been brought out of the country,
maintaining that the Landsturm cannot be used for anything except the
maintenance of order in the Empire. I think they are wrong about that,
but this was no joint debate on German law, and no attempt was made to
sooth their injured feelings. A lot of men were brought in while we were
there, some of them prisoners taken during the fighting, but a great
many of them fugitives who were sick of the war, and only asked to get
off with a whole skin.
As they marched out of the hall, the King came in from the field for a
look at the morning's telegrams. He had been out since long before
daybreak, and was covered with rain and mud. He shook himself
vigorously, spraying everybody with raindrops, and then stopped to speak
to us before going in for a cup of coffee and a look at the news.