endeavour to find the headquarters of the ----th Division. We went
through a little village where all the inhabitants were standing in the
road, listening to the cannonading, and spun out upon an empty and
suspiciously silent country road. A little way out we found a couple of
dead horses which the thrifty peasants had already got out and skinned.
I didn't like the looks of it, and in a minute the Colonel agreed that
he thought it did not look like a road behind the lines, but our little
staff officer was cock-sure that he knew just what he was talking about,
and ordered the chauffeur to go ahead. Then we heard three sharp toots
on the horn of the car behind--the signal to stop and wait. And it came
pulling up alongside with an inquiry as to what we meant by "barging"
along this sort of a road which likely as not would land us straight
inside the enemy's lines. There was a spirited discussion as to whether
we should go ahead or go back and strike over through Rymenam, when we
heard a shell burst over the road about half a mile ahead, and then saw
a motor filled with Belgian soldiers coming back toward us full tilt.
The Colonel stopped them and learned that they had been out on a
reconnaissance with a motor-cyclist to locate the German lines, which
were found to be just beyond where the shell had burst, killing the
motor-cyclist. It would have been a little too ignominious for us to
have gone bowling straight into the lines and get taken prisoners. We
turned around and left that road to return no more that way. We got
about half-way up to Rymenam when we met some Belgian officers in a
motor, who told us that a battery of the big French howitzers, which had
just gone into action for the first time, were in a wood near H----. We
turned around once more, and made for H---- by way of Malines. We found
the headquarters of the ----th Division, and went in and watched the
news come in over the field telephone and telegraph, and by messengers
on motor-cycles, bicycles and horses straight from the field. The
headquarters was established in a little roadside inn about half a mile
outside the town, and was as orderly as a bank. Officers sat at the
various instruments and took notes of the different reports as they came
in. Reports were discussed quickly but quietly, and orders sent out
promptly but without confusion. The maps were kept up to the minute by
changing the little flags to show the positions of the different troops
right at the minute. There was telephone communication with the forts,
and several times they were ordered to pour fire into a certain spot to
cover an advance or a retreat of parts of the Belgian forces, and, at
other times, to cease firing, so as to let Belgian troops cross or
occupy the exact spot they had been bombarding. It was a wonderful sight
to watch, and it was hard to realise that this was merely a highly
scientific business of killing human beings on a large scale. It was so
business-like and without animus, that to anyone not knowing the
language or conditions, it might have passed as a busy day in a war
office commissary when ordering supplies and giving orders for shipment.
Just outside the headquarters was one of the fine German kitchen wagons
with two fine Norman horses which had pulled it all the way from
Germany. It had been stationed in the grounds of a château not far away,
and three men of its crew were hard at work getting a meal when a little
Belgian soldier with two weeks' growth of beard waltzed into the garden,
shot one of the men dead and captured the other two. He disarmed them,
put ropes around their necks and drove the kitchen to headquarters in
triumph. He was proud as punch of his exploit, and, for that matter, so
was everybody else around the place.
In a field of turnips a couple of hundred yards away from the
headquarters were the howitzers. There were three of them in a row with
three ammunition wagons. They had been sent here only a few days ago,
and they were promptly put into action. They were planted here, slightly
inside the range of the guns from the outer forts, and were able to drop
shells six miles from where we stood, or about five miles outside the
range of the fort guns. They toss a shell about two feet long, filled
with deadly white powder, six miles in ten seconds, and when the shell
strikes anything, "it thoes rocks at yeh!" as the darkey said about our
navy guns. The battery was planted down behind a little clump of pines,
and was dropping shells into a little village where there was a
considerable force of Germans about to be attacked. The Germans must
have been puzzled by this development, for they had counted on being
able to advance safely up to the range of the forts, feeling sure that
the Belgians had no powerful field guns of this sort.
We were introduced to the officers commanding the battery, and watched
their work for nearly two hours. One of the officers was Count Guy
d'Oultremont, adjutant of the Court, whom I had known in Brussels. He
was brown as a berry, had lost a lot of superfluous flesh, and was
really a fine-looking man. He had been in Namur, and had got away with
the Belgian troops who went out the back door into France and came home
by ship.
After we had been watching a little while, an aeroplane came circling
around, evidently to spot the place where these deadly cannon were. It
cruised around for some time in vain, but finally crossed straight
overhead. As soon as we were located, the machine darted away to spread
the news, so that the big German guns could be trained on us and silence
the battery; but the Belgians were Johnny-at-the-rat-hole again, and he
was winged by rifle fire from a crowd of soldiers who were resting near
the headquarters. They killed the observer and wounded the pilot
himself, to say nothing of poking a hole in the oil tank. The machine
volplaned to earth a few hundred yards from where we were, and the pilot
was made prisoner. The machine was hauled back to the village and
shipped on the first outgoing train to Antwerp as a trophy.
We were leaving the battery and were slipping and sliding through the
cabbages on our way back to the road, when we met the King on foot,
accompanied only by an aide-de-camp, coming in for a look at the big
guns. He stopped and spoke to us and finally settled down for a real
talk, evidently thinking that this was as good a time as any other he
was likely to find in the immediate future.
After talking shop with the two colonels, he turned to me for the latest
gossip. He asked me about the story that the German officers had drunk
his wine at the Palace in Laeken. I told him that it was generally
accepted in Brussels, and gave him my authority for the yarn. He
chuckled a little and then said, in his quiet way, with a merry twinkle:
"You know I never drink anything but water." He cogitated a minute and
then, with an increased twinkle, he added: "And it was not very good
wine!" He seemed to think that he had quite a joke on the Germans.
As we talked, the sound of firing came from the German lines not far
away, and shrapnel began falling in a field on the other side of the
road. The Germans were evidently trying to locate the battery in that
way. Most of the shrapnel burst in the air and did no damage, but some
of it fell to the ground before bursting and sent up great fountains of
the soft black earth with a cloud of gray smoke with murky yellow
splotches in it. It was not a reassuring sight, and I was perfectly
willing to go away from there, but being a true diplomat, I remembered
that the King ranked me by several degrees in the hierarchy, and that he
must give the sign of departure. Kings seem powerless to move at such
times, however, so we stayed and talked while the nasty things popped.
His Majesty and I climbed to a dignified position on a pile of rubbish,
whence we could get a good view up and down the road, and see the French
guns which were in action again.
A little later Ferguson, who was standing not far away, got hit with a
little sliver and had a hole punched in the shoulder of his overcoat. It
stopped there, however, and did not hurt him in the least. He looked
rather astonished, pulled the little stranger from the hole it had made,
looked at it quizzically, and then put it in his pocket and went on
watching the French guns. I think he would have been quite justified in
stopping the battle and showing his trophy to everybody on both sides.
The King was much interested in all the news from Brussels, how the
people were behaving, what the Germans were doing, whether there were
crowds on the streets, and how the town felt about the performances of
the army.
He realised what has happened to his little country, and made me realise
it for the first time. He said that France was having a hard time, but
added that perhaps a sixth of her territory was invaded and occupied,
but that every bit of his country had been ravaged and devastated with
the exception of the little bit by the sea coast and Antwerp itself,
which was getting pretty rough treatment, in order to put it in shape to
defend itself. He spoke with a great deal of feeling. And no wonder!
Then to change the tone of the conversation, he looked down at my
pretty patent leather shoes, and asked in a bantering way whether those
were a part of my fighting kit, and where I had got them. I answered: "I
got them several months ago to make my first bow to Your Majesty, at
Laeken!" He looked around for a bit at the soggy fields, the marching
troops, and then down at the steaming manure heap, and remarked with a
little quirk to his lips: "We did not think then that we should hold our
first good conversation in a place like this, did we?" He smiled in a
sad way, but there was a lot more sadness than mirth in what he said.
Guy d'Oultremont came up and said something that I did not understand,
and we started back toward the headquarters. We stopped opposite the
inn, and the two colonels were called up for a little more talk.
Just then a crowd of priests, with Red Cross brassards on their arms,
came down the road on their way to the battlefield to gather up the
wounded. With his usual shyness the King withdrew a few steps to seek
shelter behind a motor that was standing near by. As we talked, we edged
back a little, forcing him to come forward, so that he was in plain
sight of the priests, who promptly broke out in a hearty "_Vive le
roi!_" He blushed and waved his hand at them, and, after they had passed
by, shook hands with us and followed them on foot out onto the field. In
modern warfare a King's place is supposed to be in a perfectly safe
spot, well back of the firing line, but he does not play the game that
way. Every day since the war began, he has gone straight out into the
thick of it, with the shells bursting all around and even within range
of hostile rifle fire. It is a dangerous thing for him to do, but it
does the troops good, and puts heart into them for the desperate
fighting they are called upon to do. They are all splendidly devoted to
him.
The rain stopped as we got into the motors and started back toward
Malines, with the idea of locating the other battery of _obusiers_.
There was a sharp volley of three toots on Colonel DuCane's horn, and we
came to a sudden stop, with the emergency brakes on, to receive the
information that it was two o'clock and time for lunch. None of us had
kept any track of time, and all were ready to go sailing along
indefinitely without food. As soon as we had noticed the time, however,
we all became instantly hungry, and moved along, looking for a good
place for lunch. I had the happy idea of suggesting the convent where we
had taken refuge on Thursday, and thither we repaired to be most warmly
greeted by all the nuns, and most particularly by the little Irish
sister who was overjoyed to see British uniforms and hear some war news
that she could believe. She hailed me with, "Oh! and it's the
riprisintitive of the Prisidint!" The nuns gave us a table in the park
and two big benches, and we got out our bread and cheese and chocolate
and a few other things that Colonel DuCane had found somewhere, and had
a most comfortable meal with a towering pitcher of beer brought out from
the convent, to give us valour for the afternoon's work.
After lunch we went back through Malines again, through the railroad
yards, bumping over the tracks, and away toward Muysen and Rymenam to
see the other batteries. I was struck in going through the railway
yards, which I had always seen teeming with activity and movement, to
see that all the rails are covered deep with rust--probably for the
first time. Think of it!
After leaving Muysen, our road lay for a mile or so along a canal with
open fields on either side. Uhlan patrols had been reported in this part
of the country, which was in a weak spot in the Belgian lines, and the
Colonel told the staff officer to keep a sharp lookout and be ready with
his revolver and prepared for a burst of speed. That military genius
replied with an air of assurance: "Oh, that's all right. They cannot
cross the canal." The Colonel confined himself to saying mildly: "No,
but bullets can!" Little Napoleon said nothing more, but I noticed that
he unstrapped his revolver without loss of time.
We were bowling along the road, looking for the battery, when there was
the most enormous noise which tore the earth asunder and the universe
trembled. I looked around to the left, and there not more than a hundred
feet away were those three husky French guns which had just gone off
right over our heads! We had found them all right, but I should prefer
to find them in some other way next time.
We spent a little time looking at them, and Ferguson had them get out
some of the explosive and show it to me. It comes in long strips that
look for all the world like chewing gum--the strips about the same
proportions, only longer. I fail to see, however, how they can be made
to blow up.
After a bit we got back into the cars, and started out to cruise around
to the Belgian left wing and watch, a little of the infantry fighting at
close quarters. We very soon began running into stragglers who informed
us that the ----th Division was being driven back, and that a retreat
was in progress. Soon we came upon supply trains and ammunition wagons
making for the rear, to be out of the way of the troops when they began
to move. We were not anxious to be tangled up in the midst of a retreat,
and obliged to spend the night trying to work our way out of it, so we
forged ahead and got back to Lierre as fast as we could. It was raining
hard as we came in, and we took refuge in the Hôtel de Ville, where the
colonels read their telegrams and got off a report to London. One of
their telegrams brought the unwelcome news that Ferguson was also
recalled to England. They are evidently hard put to it to find enough
officers to handle the volunteer forces. He will have to stay on for a
few days, but Colonel DuCane came back with us and left the next morning
for England by way of Ostend.
When we got back to the hotel after a fast run, I found that Inglebleek,
the King's Secretary, had been around twice for me, and wanted me to go
at once to the Palace. I jumped into the car and ran over there, to
learn that the Queen wanted to see me. She was then at dinner, and he
thought it would do the next time I came up--she seems to have wanted
more news of Brussels--nothing pressing. She had told Inglebleek to give
me a set of the pictures she had had taken of the damage done to the
Cathedral at Malines. They are interesting as a matter of record.
Sir Francis had another good bulletin from the War Office, and was
beaming. The colleagues came and gathered round the table, and chortled
with satisfaction.
Heavy cannonading continued well into the night, to cover the advance of
the ----th Division, which had been reinforced and was moving back into
the dark and rain to take up its old position and be ready for the
Germans in the morning.
I was up and about early on Sunday morning. Had breakfast with Count
Goblet d'Alviella, one of the Ministers of State. Gathered up Monsieur
de Woeste and Faura, and made for the Scheldt and Brussels. Instead of
going across on the boat as we had to do the last time, we found a broad
and comfortable pontoon bridge placed on canal boats and schooners
lashed together and moored from one side of the river to the other. Any
time they like, the Belgians can cut the string, and there is no way of
getting into the city from that side. There was a tremendous wind
blowing and the rain fell in torrents--short showers--from the time we
left Antwerp until we came sailing into town here.
The bridge at Termonde had been blown up by the Germans on evacuating
the place after having destroyed the entire town, so there was no
thought of returning that way. I knew there could be nothing doing the
direct way through Malines, so decided on a long swing around the circle
by way of Ghent as the only practicable way. We found Belgian troops all
the way to Ghent, and had no trouble beyond giving the password which I
had. We drew up at a restaurant in a downpour and had a hasty lunch,
getting under way again immediately afterward.
About ten kilometers this side of Ghent we came to Melle, a village
which had been destroyed, and another where a number of houses had been
burned. A nice-looking young chap told us that there had been a fight
there the day before and that the Germans had set fire to the place as
they retreated--just from cussedness, so far as he could see. There, and
at another place along the road, peasants told us that they had been
made to march in front of the German troops when they marched against
the Belgians. I don't like to believe that there is any truth in that
story but it comes from every direction and the people tell it in a most
convincing way.
We found no Germans until we were this side of Assche and then our
adventures were evidently at an end. As we came in we could hear heavy
cannonading from the direction of Vilvorde and Hofstade and knew that
the fight was still going on. They had been hearing it in town for a
couple of days.
The family at the Legation had been somewhat anxious, but had learned
through the Germans that we were all right--evidently from somebody who
got through the lines. I had to sit right down and tell the story of my
life from one end to the other.
I never got over the idea in Antwerp of the incongruity of going out
onto the field all day and fighting a big battle, or rather, watching it
fought, and then sailing comfortably home to a big modern hotel in a
motor and dressing for dinner. I don't think there has ever been a war
quite like this before.
Herwarth has gone to the front for some active service. I am sorry to
miss him. He went up to Hofstade the day I was to have returned, and
waited for me about an hour, but the fire got too thick for him and he
came back and reported that I would not be able to get through.
Monsieur de Woeste called this afternoon and paid his respects. He gave
the Minister an account of the attempts we made to get through that made
his hair stand on end for an hour afterward.
* * * * *
_Brussels, September 16, 1914._--To-day has brought a long string of
callers, and between times we took satisfying looks at the passing
troops, which have been pouring into town steadily yesterday and to-day.
Nobody has established to my satisfaction whence they come or whither
they are going. There are all sorts of explanations offered, each
explanation being quite convincing to the one who offers it. Most people
say that they are being brought in for the siege of Antwerp, which is
about to begin. The siege of Antwerp has begun so often and never
materialized that I decline to get excited about it at this stage of the
game. Another explanation is that the German retreat in France is so
precipitate that some of the troops and supply trains are already
pouring through here on their way home. I cannot get up much enthusiasm
for that either. Some imaginative souls maintain that these are forces
being brought back to fight against the Russians. None of these stories
sound good to me and I have resigned myself to the belief that the only
really safe conjecture is that this "is a movement of troops."
This morning Baron von der Lancken came in and asked me to testify as to
what we had seen at Louvain. Of course what we saw had no bearing on the
original cause of the trouble and there is no reason for me to push my
way into the controversy. Besides, I can't do it without orders from
Washington.
We are getting quite accustomed to having no communications with the
outside world. Railroads, of course, have ceased to work, except for
military purposes, and there is no way for the general public to get
about. There has been no postal service since the Germans marched in on
August 20th, and we don't know when we shall have any. All telephones
were cut off within a few hours of the arrival of the German army. There
are no newspapers, and all the information we are supposed to have about
happenings in the outside world is fed to us in the form of placards on
the walls of the city. Nobody takes any great amount of stock in what
these placards tell us, although they have sometimes told us the truth,
and consequently there is a great demand for the few copies of Dutch and
English newspapers that are smuggled across the border and brought to
Brussels. The prices vary according to the number of papers to be had,
and run from five francs to one hundred francs for a single copy of the
_Times_. Those who do not care to spend so much can rent a paper by the
hour--and customers are not wanting on this basis. By way of
discouraging this traffic it is said that the Germans have shot several
men caught smuggling papers. Those caught selling them in Brussels are
arrested and given stiff terms of imprisonment. All taxis disappeared
many days ago and altogether the normal life of the town has ceased. It
will be a rollicking place from now on.
* * * * *
_Brussels, September 17, 1914._--This morning I spent digging my way out
from under a landslide of detail work which has been piling up on my
desk, until I could hardly see over it. I now have it out of the way,
and can breathe again freely for the moment.
This afternoon Baron de Menten de Horne, a Lieutenant in the Second
Regiment of Lancers, was brought in to the Legation, a prisoner, still
wearing his Belgian uniform. He was captured last Friday near H---- while
I was there. Nyssens, the Major who was in the convent with us, told me
that one of his officers had gone off on a reconnaissance and had not
reappeared; he was greatly worried about him, but could not send any one
out to look for him. This was the man. He was surrounded, in company
with several of his men, and took to cover in a field of beets. Night
was coming on, and they thought that when the fight was over and the
German troops who were all about them had retired, they would be able to
work their way out and rejoin their own forces, but twenty-five Germans
surrounded them, and after killing all the others, took this man
prisoner.
His only idea is to be exchanged and rejoin his regiment; and, as is the
case with pretty much everybody else nowadays, he turned to the American
Legation. He made such a good plea that the German authorities brought
him here yesterday, and left him an hour, on his giving his word of
honour not to divulge anything as to the military movements he had seen
while a prisoner.
Of course, we could not arrange to make the exchange, but he stayed on
for an hour and told us of his adventures. He was a pathetic figure in
his dirty uniform, sitting on a little chair in my office and telling in
a simple way of all he had been through--laying more stress on the
sufferings and death of his soldiers than on anything that had happened
to him. His own brother had been killed in the fighting around Liège,
and he had heard that his brother-in-law, of whom he was very fond, had
also been mortally wounded. While at Louvain, he had visited the
military hospitals, and had a list of Belgian officers who were there. I
took a list of them, by permission of the German officer who came after
the prisoner, and shall send word to their families.
I went around to see the young man's sister, and sent her off to have a
look at him at headquarters, where he is being well treated. It is a joy
to be able to do some of these little errands. Nobody can realize the
amount of bitter sorrow there is in this country--we cannot realize it
ourselves, but now and then a wave of it rises up to confront and
overwhelm us.
Miss T----, an American owning a school here, was in late this afternoon
to complain of the behaviour of a couple of officers and gentlemen who
did her the honour of calling upon her. They came swaggering in, asked
whether a certain German girl had attended the school and demanded her
portrait. On being refused, they became nasty and finally so overawed
the two women who were there alone that they found some snap shots and
handed over a couple of them. Then they demanded a post card with a
picture of the school, wrote a message to the girl, and tried to compel
the two women to sign it. They flatly refused, and, in a rage, the elder
German tore up the card, threw it at Miss T----, flung down the
photographs and stamped out of the house, slamming the doors.
The Minister is going over to see the military authorities in the
morning and make some remarks that they will not forget in a hurry. The
puppies ought to be horsewhipped.
* * * * *
_September 18th._--Repressive measures are getting stronger and more
severe. The Germans have now ordered the Belgians to take down their
flags. Lüttwitz, the Military Governor, has posted an _Avis_ on the
subject which is worth reproducing in full.