chapter i

on the way to liège

when de tijd sent me to belgium as its correspondent, i had not the faintest notion practically how to perform my duties, for the simple reason that i could not apprehend at all how a modern war might be conducted. but i was destined to receive my first impressions when still on netherland[1] territory and after my arrival at maastricht.

on the hot afternoon of august 7th, 1914, the much-delayed train rumbled into the station at maastricht. a dense mass stood in front of the building. men, women, and children were crowded there and pushed each other weeping, shouting, and questioning. families and friends tried to find each other, and many of the folk of maastricht assisted the poor 16creatures, who, nervously excited, wept and wailed for a father, for wife and children lost in the crowd. it was painful, pitiful, this sight of hundreds of fugitives, who, although now safe, constantly feared that death was near, and anxiously clutched small parcels, which for the most part contained worthless trifles hurriedly snatched up when they fled.

and over these nervous and terrified thousands at maastricht rolled from afar the dull roar of the guns, thunder-like bursts from which had frightened them so terribly.

the streets leading to the bridge over the meuse and into the town were also densely thronged with refugees. here and there large groups listened to the stories told, with profusion of tears, of sufferings inflicted, depicted in far harsher colours than could have been possible. but the wretched creatures exaggerated unconsciously; in their affrighted state they had seen things that had never occurred.

suddenly every one in the vrijthof ran in the same direction. i waited calmly, and saw pass by a tragically long train of hooded carts and other peasants' conveyances. the drivers walked by the side of the horses, the red cross flag flew from the carriages, fresh clean straw covered their floor, on which wounded soldiers writhed in excruciating pain. the crowd did not press nearer, but, standing silently in long rows, let the sad procession pass by. such were the first impressions of the war got in these days; nobody uttered a sound, but many stealthily brushed a tear away.

thus it went on all day long: motors and other conveyances travelled to and fro between the battle-17fields and hospitals at maastricht; fugitives moved about in streets and squares, upsetting each other more and more by fantastic stories.

as dusk came on nearly the whole population of maastricht, with all their temporary guests, formed an endless procession and went to invoke god's mercy by the virgin mary's intercession. they went to our lady's church, in which stands the miraculous statue of sancta maria stella maris. the procession filled all the principal streets and squares of the town. i took my stand at the corner of the vrijthof, where all marched past me, men, women, and children, all praying aloud, with loud voices beseeching: "our lady, star of the sea, pray for us ... pray for us ... pray for us ...!"

at the same time bells rang ... and guns roared.

group after group went by, and i heard french and netherland, the maastricht vernacular and sweet flemish spoken, all sorts of tongues and modes of utterance. the men were bare-headed, and each let his rosary slip through his fingers. soon after the head of the procession reached our lady square the huge church was packed, and those who could not find room inside stood in the square, which also very soon was full with these thousands of people in a dense mass, like so many blades of grass in a meadow.

however large the crowd, it was silent as death when the priest jacobs addressed them. he spoke words of encouragement, hope, and confidence, and urged them to send up their prayers to god almighty—prayers for peace. when he had ended, these thousands sang the "hymn to mary," in18 such perfect order as if only one superhuman body sent forth an immensely powerful sound from earth to heaven.

as i was listening to that hymn the storms in my heart subsided—storms raised by so many scenes witnessed during the day; but as soon as the sonorous voices were still, i heard again the dull boom ... boom ... boom ... of the guns. that dire reality!...

the next morning i got up early, having been unable to sleep. i realised already that my task was difficult, dangerous, and full of responsibility, for i had to find out and communicate to the public the truth about events, which would be related as beautiful or horrid, according to the interests of my informants. it was dangerous, because i might meet with the same fate that seemed to have been inflicted on so many civilians already.

dressed in my sporting attire, and carrying some necessaries in a knapsack, i started early, going towards visé along the canal. as i came to the netherland boundary-stone and noticed that of belgium, i had a moment of doubt, but it lasted for a second only. in order to divert my thoughts i walked somewhat more briskly, but was stopped suddenly on belgian ground by a custom-house officer. i was astonished to see that official there still, for the germans must be quite near and—as i had been told—small patrols had advanced frequently to this point. my papers were found to be in order, and the man seemed very happy to meet a journalist.

19

"it is a pity, sir, that you did not arrive a day sooner, then you might have witnessed great barbarity of the germans. if you walk on a little farther along the canal, you will see three persons hanging from a tree near haccourt; one of these is a boy of fourteen. nobody was allowed on the road, and as a patrol met these three persons, they concluded immediately that they were francs-tireurs, strung them up on the tree, without a trial of any sort, and in addition shot each a bullet through the head. to-day another patrol arrived and had the effrontery to tell the members of the maastricht red cross that the boy had murdered a captain. and we are not allowed to remove the corpses. horrible!... horrible!"

"yes," i reply, "it is bad, very bad, but is it really all true?"

"true? true, sir? you go and look for yourself! and let me tell you one thing—there are no francs-tireurs here! we know quite well what we may do and what not, and only a moment ago i received a message from the minister of the interior, saying that non-combatants who shoot at the enemy expose themselves to danger and their fellow-citizens to retaliations."

i asked him how things were farther on along the meuse, but he knew nothing. he was stationed here, he said, and was going to stay as long as possible. as soon as the germans arrived, most people fled, and those who had stayed on were no longer allowed to leave. so he lacked all information, and only understood that fierce fighting was going on, as was confirmed by the incessant thunder of the20 guns. fort pontisse was, moreover, not so very far away, and frequently we could distinctly tell, by their whistling sound, in which direction the shells flew.

after a few encouraging words i walked on along the solitary, deserted road, leaving the canal on the right, until a by-way took me to the bank of the meuse, opposite the netherland frontier village eysden. i entered a deserted inn. after shouting for a long time, the inn-keeper appeared, looked shyly at me, remaining constantly close by the door of his room. his attitude showed that he was prepared to fly at the slightest suspicious movement on my part; but as soon as i had convinced him that i was a netherland journalist, he became more friendly, and called his wife and daughters, so that i might tell them all i knew. they were very desirous to know how the war went ... in the netherlands, and whether we were fighting the germans or the english? it was very difficult to make them understand that they were under a misapprehension, but when i had at last succeeded in this, i started in my turn to ask them what they thought of my intention to go farther.

"go farther, sir? but ... but ... sir, don't do that! the germans shoot every civilian whom they set eyes on."

"oh, go on!" i answered. "i don't think that i need fear anything of the kind. i am in any case a netherlander!"

"netherlander or not, it does not matter. whosoever one be, every civilian is shot down by them."

"are they at a great distance from here?"

21

"not at all! if you step outside, you can see them standing, ten minutes from here. near lixhe they threw a bridge across the meuse. it is the third already which they put down, for each time they are smashed from the fort. oh, it is horrible; there must surely fall a number of dead, and here we have seen corpses in the meuse already.... but i do not understand how you ventured to come here...."

well, i did not quite fancy the prospect of being shot like a dog, and as i had not yet come into touch with the germans, it was difficult to say whether these people exaggerated or not. but just opposite was eysden, and i made up my mind to go there for further information.

netherland soldiers and inhabitants of the village bustled about along the opposite river-bank. i shouted as loudly as possible; and when at last i succeeded in drawing their attention, i made them understand that i wanted to be pulled across in the little boat, which in ordinary times served as a ferry. a short consultation took place now on the opposite side, after which a soldier, who clearly possessed a strong voice, came as near as possible to the waterside and, making a trumpet of his two hands, roared:

"not allowed!"

"why not?"

"we are neutrals!"

"so am i; i am a netherlander!"

"possibly! not allowed!"

and at the same moment he turned round and joined the others.

22

so i was left there. the netherlanders refused to pull me across in consequence of an exaggerated fear of violating their neutrality; the germans in front of me intended, it was said, to shoot me down as soon as i ventured to get near. but to retrace my steps ... that is a thing i had never done yet. for a few moments i stood there undecided, but then made up my mind to see what was going to happen, and went on, in spite of the warnings of the kind-hearted innkeeper and his family, who called out to me to return.

the terrible thunder of the guns, of both besiegers and besieged, vibrated through the air. in the distance i noticed a couple of men, probably german soldiers, but a pontoon-bridge was nowhere to be seen. after a few minutes, however, i reached a spot where the meuse makes a short curve, and had scarcely walked round it, when i saw, only a couple of hundred yards away, the bridge in question, across which a long train of vehicles was passing, loaded with victuals, hay, straw, etc.

on this side hundreds of soldiers were standing; they had taken off their uniforms in the fierce heat, and were busy loading and unloading and changing horses. from time to time the entire scene was hidden by the smoke from numerous burning houses at lixhe, quite near the river. i walked in the most casual way, in an unconcerned attitude, looked calmly at some of the houses i passed, and which were for the greater part destroyed. the walls were pierced by bullets, the rooms generally burnt out; in the front gardens lay all sorts of furniture, dragged out of the house and then smashed to pieces.

23

the road was all strewn with straw. i approached the bridge past burning farms and villas. there the pieces of broken furniture were even lying in the road, and i had to go warily so that i should not stumble. the soldiers looked at me as if they were amused, but i went up to them in the same unconcerned manner and asked them to take me to their commanding officer.

"what do you want with him?"

"i am a netherland journalist, and want to ask the commander's permission to go to liège."

"oh, you are a netherlander; then come along."

they took me to two officers who stood near the bridge, and told them that i "pretended" to be a netherland journalist. having proved this by my papers, the officers gave me an escort of three men, who conducted me to the bridge-commander, on the other side of the meuse.

i had to walk along the very edge of the unstable bridge in order to avoid the wheels of the passing carriages, which shook the whole bridge and made the rather loose boards clatter. in the meantime, at no considerable distance, some shells fell in the meuse, fired at the bridge from fort pontisse. yet, i did not mind it at all, as all these new experiences stunned me, so to speak; the incessant hellish noises of the batteries, the burning houses, the smoke swooping down, the excited soldiers....

as we crossed the bridge, i asked my escort why these houses were set on fire. i heard then, for the first time, that "they had been shooting," and they told me of cowardly civilians, who shot from the windows at unsuspicious soldiers, or24 stabbed them treacherously. but of course they had experienced nothing of the kind; it had happened to troops who were now moving ahead. they had, however, taken part in the revenge, and told of it with glittering eyes: how they fired the houses of francs-tireurs and then shot the people who, nearly stifled, appeared at the windows; how in "holy" anger, in order to avenge their comrades, they subsequently entered the houses and destroyed everything. i did not answer, did not know what to think of it, but shuddered, because it was so gruesome.

they told this, while we were waiting on a couple of protruding boards of the pontoon-bridge, so as to allow some extremely wide carts to pass. once again shells exploded, a couple of hundred yards behind us, and one made a hole in the bank quite near.

"horrible!" i sighed. "have they not yet hit the bridge?"

"oh yes, it has been destroyed already a couple of times, but we shall teach them a lesson! why did not the belgians allow us to pass through their country? what can their little army do against us? as soon as a sufficient number have crossed we shall go for these forts, then on to brussels, and within a fortnight we shall be in paris. liège we have taken already."

"it will cost a great many men!"

"we have plenty of them; but many of us fall by the treacherous shooting of the civilians; they are swine, swine! and these belgian women ... they are the dirtiest bitches ... beastly swine...."

25

the man got more and more excited, but then he was more than "half-seas over." the smoke made him cough and he stuck in the middle of his "swine." he made me shudder, and i hastened to pull out a packet of cigarettes, some of which i gave to him and his mates. in consequence the two others became more communicative, and in touching harmony assured me that:

"oh yes, the netherlanders are our friends; they remain neutral. and that is the best, for otherwise the whole lot would be smashed up, exactly as here in belgium."

they did not understand, of course, that poor belgium would have liked nothing better than to remain neutral also.

those wide carts had passed us now, and we could proceed slowly. the bridge led to a farmhouse with tall trees and underwood. they took me to the right, to a densely overgrown spot, where a clearing had been made amidst some smaller shrubs. in the centre stood a table covered with a shining white cloth, and a goodly number of wine-bottles and glasses. half a dozen officers in fine uniforms, gilt collars and epaulettes, were seated around it.

the sight of that small group, hidden among the green foliage, was as brilliant as it was surprising. one of the officers, clearly the highest in rank, summoned us to come nearer, and asked the soldiers for an explanation. standing smartly at attention, they gave it, as a school-child might haltingly recite a lesson learned by heart. the officer whom i thought it convenient to call "captain" looked searchingly at me and then began:

26

"have you got papers?"

"yes, captain."

i pulled them out: birth certificate, certificate of good conduct, foreign passport, and press-card, which were examined the one after the other.

"are they genuine?"

"of course, captain; everything is properly signed, stamped, and legalised."

"and what do you want to write about?"

"i don't know yet. the things i see ... and ... of course that cannot do harm to the german army."

"hm! hm! all right. so you intend to write friendly about us?"

"certainly, certainly, sir! exactly because we hear so many lies from foreign countries about the germans, i want to try and find out the truth for myself."

"is that so? well, the netherlanders are our friends, and have so much in common with our people."

"certainly, captain; as a matter of fact we are of the same race."

but here he looked at me in a curious manner, scrutinising my face, as if he asked himself: "is he pulling my leg, or not?" but not a muscle in my face moved, so that the "captain" nodded approvingly ... and wrote out a pass for me to go to visé! i was not allowed to go to liège, for, as he said, he did not yet know himself how matters stood there. the other officers overwhelmed me with questions: how matters stood in the netherlands, and whether great britain had already27 declared war against us? i think that at that question i looked utterly perplexed, for in the same breath they told me all they knew about the danger of war for the netherlands: great britain first sent an ultimatum to the netherlands, to force her into joining the allies against germany, and as she had refused, the british fleet was now on its way to flushing. i explained to them in detail that they were utterly wrong, but they believed only a half of what i said.

there was a continuous coming and going at the bridge-command, for when i left the shrubberies a great many soldiers of high and low rank, with portfolios and documents, were waiting outside. the soldiers were to escort me back across the bridge, so that i might go on to visé along the other bank.

before i got to the bridge i saw something gruesome: a number of corpses of soldiers were lying about and others were brought in ... a little farther away, on the farm, there they were digging.... i looked away quickly; i was not yet accustomed to that sort of thing. most likely they were men killed a moment ago by shells aimed at the bridge, for wounded men were also brought in on stretchers.

at the other end of the bridge i was left by my escort, and went on alone; on my left the meuse, on my right burning houses, above me hissing and whistling shells, that came down in front of me and behind me, with tremendous explosions, throwing the loose earth high into the air.

in devant-le-pont, a hamlet opposite visé, the doors of all the houses stood open, as a sign that the28 inhabitants did not propose to offer any resistance to the germans. after much shouting the landlady of a café appeared, distressingly nervous, but doing her utmost to look unconcerned.

"a glass of beer, madame."

"if you please."

"the guns are horrid, madame; are you not afraid?"

"no, sir, we must hope for the best."

"have the germans done no harm here yet?"

"oh no, sir, not at all!"

"are they tolerably kind?"

"oh, quite nice people, sir!"

her reserve told me that i would not get much information here, and, finishing my beer, i asked:

"how much is it, madame?"

"this? nothing, sir, nothing."

"nothing! but, madame, i want to pay for what i drink!"

"no, no, i won't take anything for it. it is hot, is it not, and a soldier ought to get something...."

i understood only then why the woman was so full of praise of the germans, although she was shaking in her shoes: she thought i was a soldier! how heavily weighed the oppressor's hand on the wretched population, if now already the honest belgian heart became hypocritical!

i had great trouble to make her understand that i was a netherlander; and that changed at once her opinion for the germans. she told me then that her husband and children had fled to the netherlands, as had most of the inhabitants, and29 that she was left behind merely because she dawdled too long. and now she was constantly afraid that they might fire her house as they did the others, and murder her ... for such had been the fate of several of the villagers. even whole families had been killed.

many civilians had been put to death, accused of having shot from the houses, and others for refusing to give up requisitioned food. probably they had none, as preceding military divisions had already taken away all there was. then some civilians were killed for refusing to work for the enemy. the houses of all these "condemned" had been burnt, and everything the soldiers fancied was looted. as a matter of fact, nearly all the soldiers i met later on were drunk, and they worried me constantly. only when i had proved to be a netherlander, they behaved a little better, and started abusing "the cursed belgians," who, according to them, were all francs-tireurs.

a short distance beyond this little café lies the large bridge across the meuse. before the germans arrived it was partly destroyed by the belgians, but so inadequately that obviously the enemy could repair it easily. bombs were therefore fired regularly from fort pontisse at the bridge, and only an hour ago it had been hit, with the result that a big hole was made in the undamaged part. in the road also big holes were made by the exploding projectiles. having passed underneath the viaduct of the bridge, i found myself opposite visé on the sloping bank of the meuse. two boys had been commanded by the germans to work the ferry-30boat for them, and after i had shown them my passport, they took me to the other side.

it was a fine summer afternoon, and the sun shone on the many bright, whitewashed walls of the old and neat little town, built close to the rapidly flowing river. there was quiet in the streets, although nearly all the inhabitants were sitting on their chairs in the streets. but nobody ventured to move about, and conversations were held only in whispers. as i walked through the village street in my quaint get-up, they pushed their chairs a little closer together as if frightened, and looked shyly at me as if they feared that i was not the harbinger of much good. and all these hundreds of people saluted me humbly, almost cringingly, which filled me with pity.

visé had not been burnt yet, as had been reported in the netherlands. only here and there had the shells done some damage, and hundreds of window-panes had been burst by the vibration of the air. as a token of submission to the invader, small white flags hung from all the windows, and these, along the whole length of a street, made a decidedly lamentable impression.

the inhabitants had already had a variety of experiences. on tuesday, august 4th, the first german troops arrived before the little town. the gendarmes stationed there offered resistance to the invading enemy, but, being hopelessly outnumbered, they were all shot down. as they were lying on the ground, badly wounded, dr. frits goffin, head of st. hadelin college, came in great haste as soon as he heard the shooting.

31

all the wounded were roman catholics, and as they saw the approaching priest, they implored him in a loud voice to give them absolution of sins, some making an act of contrition. the priest was unable to come near each of them, and therefore called out in a loud voice: "my jesus, be merciful!" he then gave them all absolution of sins. but as he kneeled down to perform this sacred task, a hostile bullet whizzed past his ear, and several soldiers who ran by aimed at him, so that he had to seek safety behind a tree. i saw with my own eyes five bullet-holes in the tree that was pointed out to me.

in those first days many civilians were killed, and not only in visé, but still more in the surrounding villages, mouland and berneaux, which were soon burnt down and where many a good man was brought low by the murderous bullets. the savage soldiers killed the cattle also, and a large number of carcases had been lying about for days.

at visé many men had been commanded to do certain kinds of work, cutting down trees, making of roads, bridges, and so on. many of them never returned, because they refused to do the humiliating work and were shot. among these there were even aged people; and i myself stood by the death-bed of a man of ninety, who had been forced to assist in building a bridge, until the poor wretch broke down and was carried to st. hadelin college, turned into a hospital by dr. goffin; there he died.

no wonder that the inhabitants were afraid and looked askance at me as they mistook me for a german.

32

on this day, august 8th, the reign of terror was still in full force. there were repeated threats to burn the town and to kill the inhabitants if they objected to do work or to deliver certain goods, especially wine and gin, of which thousands of bottles were requisitioned daily. several times a day they were summoned by a bell and informed what the invader wanted, the necessary threats being added to the command. and the inhabitants, in mortal fear, no longer trusted each other, but searched each other's houses for things that might be delivered to satisfy the germans.

the entire neighbourhood was still being bombarded from the forts to the north of liège; several german divisions succeeded, however, in crossing the meuse near lixhe. in spite of the shell-fire they passed the pontoon-bridge there, turned into a by-way leading to the canal, near haccourt, crossed one of the canal-bridges, of which not one had been destroyed, and along another by-way, came to the main road from maastricht to tongres, at a spot about three miles from the last-named town.

the shelling went on during the night, and all that time the inhabitants remained in their cellars.

although i had got farther on my way than i had dared to expect, my journalist's heart longed for more. if i could get to liège, which was said to have just been taken! but my passport stated that i was only allowed to go to visé. i thought the matter out, and the longer i thought, the stronger became my desire to go on; and at last i decided to do it.

near the outskirts of the town i found barricades33 which, however, seemed not to have been used, but stray shells had knocked large pieces out of the low, wide wall between the road and the meuse's flowing water.

there was not much traffic. only here and there stood some german soldiers, or seriously wounded men were lying on mattresses and chairs. nearly every house by the roadside had been turned into an emergency hospital, for from all sides they brought in soldiers wounded by shells that had exploded amidst the advancing divisions.

the road along which i walked, the main road between visé and liège, was laid under fire from various forts, and every moment i saw on my left clouds rise up from the rocky heights that run along the whole of the meuse. these clouds were partly formed by smoke from the guns mounted by the germans against the forts, partly by volumes of earth thrown up by the projectiles from the broken-up soil.

i myself ran great risks too, but i did not mind, and walked on, moved by a consuming desire to get to liège, and then back to maastricht, to be able to wire to my paper that i had been to liège only just after it was taken by the germans, and that the news, wired from germany to the netherland papers, that the forts had been taken was untrue.

i had a short chat with the wounded men near the various houses, on demand showed my passport to those in authority, and was advised as a friendly netherlander to return, as it was extremely dangerous on the road. but i did not dream of doing34 this, as long as i was not compelled, and went on towards liège amidst this maddening thunder.

i had walked another three miles, when a big crowd of fugitives met me. they seemed to have come a long way, for the majority could hardly walk on, and had taken off their shoes and boots, on account of the scorching heat, going on barefooted in the shade of the tall trees. it was a procession, numbering hundreds of men, women, and children. the aged were supported, the babies carried. most of them had a small parcel on their back or under their arm. they seemed tired to death, had dark red faces, and betrayed great fear and nervousness. i crossed the road to speak to them, and as soon as they noticed it the whole crowd, numbering hundreds of people, stood still, creeping closer together, women and girls trying hard to hide themselves behind the men, and these doffed their caps timidly.

i was really sorry that i had dressed myself in that grey norfolk suit, long stockings, a knapsack strapped to the back, and a leather strap with a water-bottle. the unfortunate creatures thought that i was a german soldier. i was bewildered for a moment, but then guessed their thoughts and hastened to comfort them.

i could not get much information from them. twenty spoke at the same time; in halting, incoherent words they tried to tell me of their experiences, but i could only catch: killed ... murders ... fire ... guns.... after much trouble i gathered that they came from the villages to the north of liège, where the germans had told them35 that on that same day, within an hour, everything would be burned down. everybody had left these places, a good many had gone to liège, but these people did not think it safe there either, and wanted to go on to the netherlands.

after giving them some advice how to get to the netherlands, and offering some words of sympathy, i wanted to go on, but as they realised this, the poor, kind creatures surrounded me; many women began to weep, and from all sides they cried:

"to liège? you want to go to liège? but, sir!—but, sir! we fled to escape death, because the germans are going to burn down everything and shoot everybody. please don't, sir; they'll kill you ... kill you ... shoot you ... kill you!"

"come, come," i replied, touched by the kind anxiety of these people. "come, come; it won't be as bad as all that, and, then, i am a netherlander."

that "being a netherlander" had become my stock-argument, and, as a matter of fact, it made me feel calmer. quietly i made myself free of the surrounding crowd, in order to proceed on my way; but then they got hold of my arms and gently tried to induce me to go with them, so i had to speak more firmly to make them understand that they could not prevail on me. when at last i was able to resume my march, they looked back frequently, shaking their heads, and in their anxiety for me, their fellow-creature, they seemed to forget for a moment their own hardly bearable sorrows.

a moment later a gigantic motor-car came racing down at a great speed. six soldiers stood up in it, their rifles pointed at me. i thought that they36 intended to shoot me and everybody they might meet, but a seventh soldier standing by the side of the chauffeur made a movement with his arms, from which i understood that he wanted me to put my hands up. i did so.

it is a simple affair, this putting up one's hands, but even at such a moment a free citizen has a strong objection against being compelled to this by others, who are no more than one's self, who ask it without any right, except the might derived from the weapon in their hands.

when they had passed, i looked round at the people i had left a moment ago.... there they lay in the road, kneeling, lifting their trembling hands, although the motor-car was already a couple of hundred yards away.

argenteau was not damaged much, but the inhabitants remained quietly inside their houses, or probably stayed in their cellars, for fear of the shells that tore through the air constantly.

by and by i began to feel that i had already walked about twenty miles in this great heat, but i would not think of stopping before reaching my goal.

at cherath railway-carriages were lying in the road at the level-crossing of visé-liège line, farther on barbed-wire cut into pieces, felled trees, and so on. german soldiers had moved these things out of the way, and motor-cars could pass by again. in the village itself i saw a man, with a white armlet, posting up a bill, and as i had seen similar damp bills sticking on the walls in the other villages, i drew nearer to read it.

37 the bill ran as follows:—

"community of ...

"to the inhabitants.

"the powerful german army, victorious in our district, has promised to respect our land and private possessions.

"in the circumstances in which we are placed it is necessary to retain the greatest possible tranquillity and calm.

"the burgomaster informs the population that any utterance contrary to the regulations will be severely punished.

"the burgomaster."

the bill-poster replied "yes" or "no" to my questions, whichever answer fitted, and as soon as he had finished his task he hurriedly trotted off. i did not see any other inhabitant.

outside cherath a motor-car stood between some partially removed trees. two officers and three soldiers stood around a map which they had laid on the ground, and with them was a young girl, scarcely twenty years old. she was weeping, and pointed out something on the map, obviously compelled to give information. one of the officers stopped me, was clearly quite satisfied with my papers, but told me that i was not allowed to go on without a permit from the military command. then i pulled out of my pocket, as if of great importance, the scrap of paper which the commanding officer at the bridge near lixhe had given me. the other had scarcely seen the german letters and german stamp when he nodded his head approvingly, and quickly i put the thing back, so that he might not notice that i was allowed only to go to visé.

at jupile i saw a pontoon-bridge, not in use for38 the moment. just before this place a slightly sloping road leads from the hills to the eastern bank of the meuse and the main road visé-liège. along this road descended at that moment an immense military force—uhlans, cuirassiers, infantry, more cuirassiers, artillery, munition and forage-carts. the train seemed endless, and although i stood there looking at it for quite a long time, the end had not passed me.

it was an imposing sight to see all these various divisions in their brilliant uniforms coming down along the road, the soldiers' uniforms still without a stain, the horses in new, fine, strong leather harness, and the rumbling and jolting guns. the soldiers sang patriotic songs, and among them rode the officers, proud and imperious, many with a monocle, looking round superciliously.

i was the only civilian in that road, and the soldiers, with much curiosity, stared at me. whenever i noticed an officer, i gave an elaborate military salute, and with such an air that the officers, although hesitating at first, did not fail to return the salute.

after reaching the main road they turned to the right towards visé, probably in order to try to cross the meuse near lixhe and then proceed to tongres along the above-mentioned road. it would not be an easy undertaking, for the forts refused to keep silent, and already many a wounded man was carried on a comrade's horse.

liège now loomed up in the distance, and the nearer i got, the more civilians i met. they all wore a white armlet, and walked timidly and nervously by the side of the road or street, starting at39 each thunder-clap of the guns. near the entrance to the town a small crowd stood on one of the hills, looking at a flying-machine moving from fort to fort and over the city, obviously investigating the effect of the german siege-guns.

at seven o'clock in the evening i entered liège; and so far i had achieved my end.

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