Chapter 24

In Andenne and Seilles (a little village across the Meuse) the Germans did a thorough job. They killed about three hundred people and burned about the same number of houses. Most of the houses had been looted systematically. According to the stories of those inhabitants who remain, there was a reign of terror for about a week, during which the Germans rendered themselves guilty of every sort of atrocity and barbarity. They are all most positive that there was no firing upon the German troops by the civil population. It seems to be generally believed that the massacre was due to resistance of retiring Belgian troops and the destruction of bridges and tunnels to cover their retreat. Whatever the provocation, the behaviour of the Germans was that of savages. We were shown photographs showing the corpses of some of those killed. It was to be inferred that they had been wantonly mutilated.

Had lunch at an hotel across the street from the station. After a hasty lunch we made off to Dinant, still following the Meuse. The thin line of houses down the course of the river were thinner than they were a few months ago, and there were signs of suffering and distress everywhere. I had never been to Dinant before, but had seen pictures of it and thought I had an idea of what we were going to see. But the pictures did not give a hint of the horror of the place. The little town, which must have been a gem, nestled at the foot of a huge gray cliff, crowned with the obsolete fort, which was not used or attacked. The town is _gone_. Part of the church is standing, and the walls of a number of buildings, but for the most part, there is nothing but a mess of scattered bricks to show where the houses had stood. And why it was done, we were not able to learn, for everybody there says that there was no fighting in the town itself. We heard stories, too, and such stories that they can hardly be put on paper. Our three guests were more and more impressed as we went on. The bridge was blown up and had fallen into the river, and as we had little time to make the rest of our day's journey, we did not wait to cross by the emergency bridge farther up the river. While we were standing talking to a schoolmaster and his father by the destroyed bridge, seven big huskies with rifles and fixed bayonets came through, leading an old man and a woman who had been found with a camera in their possession. At first there was no objection raised to the taking of photographs, but now our friends are getting a little touchy about it, and lock up anybody silly enough to get caught with kodaks or cameras.

According to what we were told, the Germans entered the town from the direction of Ciney, on the evening of August 21st, and began firing into the windows of the houses. The Germans admit this, but say that there were French troops in the town and this was the only way they could get them out. A few people were killed, but there was nothing that evening in the nature of a general massacre. Although the next day was comparatively quiet, a good part of the population took refuge in the surrounding hills.

On Sunday morning, the 23rd, the German troops set out to pillage and shoot. They drove the people into the street, and set fire to their houses. Those who tried to run away were shot down in their tracks. The congregation was taken from the church, and fifty of the men were shot. All the civilians who could be rounded up were driven into the big square and kept there until evening. About six o'clock the women were lined up on one side of the square and kept in line by soldiers. On the other side, the men were lined up along a wall, in two rows, the first kneeling. Then, under command of an officer, two volleys were fired into them. The dead and wounded were left together until the Germans got round to burying them, when practically all were dead. This was only one of several wholesale executions. The Germans do not seem to contradict the essential facts, but merely put forward the plea that most of the damage was incidental to the fighting which took place between the armed forces. Altogether more than eight hundred people were killed. Six hundred and twelve have been identified and given burial. Others were not recognisable. I have one of the lists which are still to be had, although the Germans have ordered all copies returned to them. Those killed ranged in age from Félix Fivet, aged three weeks, to an old woman named Jadot, who was eighty. But then Félix probably fired on the German troops.

There is no end to the stories of individual atrocities. One is that Monsieur Wasseige, director of one of the banks, was seized by the Germans, who demanded that he should open the safes. He flatly refused to do this, even under threat of death. Finally he was led with his two eldest sons to the Place d'Armes and placed with more than one hundred others, who were then killed with machine guns. Monsieur Wasseige's three youngest children were brought to the spot by German soldiers, and compelled to witness the murder of their father and two brothers.

From Dinant we struck across country through Phillipeville and some little by-roads to Rance, where we were expected at the house of G. D----. He and his wife and their little girl of five had just returned that morning to receive us, but the place was brightly lighted and as completely prepared as though they had been there all the time. It was a lovely old place, and we were soon made comfortable. German officers have occupied it most of the time, and it required a good deal of cleaning and repairing after they left, but fortunately this work had just been completed, and we had a chance to enjoy the place before any more enforced guests appeared. One of the Imperial princelings had been there for one night, and his name was chalked on the door of his room. He had been _très aimable_, and when he left had taken D----'s motor with him.

We took a tramp around the town in a biting wind, and looked at some of the houses of our neighbours. Some of them were almost wrecked after having served as quarters for troops for varying periods. From others all the furniture had been taken away and shipped back to Germany. One man showed us a card which he had found in the frame of one of his best pictures. It was the card of a German officer, and under the name was written an order to send the picture to a certain address in Berlin. The picture was gone, but the frame and card were still there and are being kept against the day of reckoning--if any. We were shown several little safes which had been pried open and looted, and were told the usual set of stories of what had happened when the army went through. Some of the things would be hard to believe if one did not hear them from the lips of people who are reliable and who live in such widely separated parts of the country at a time when communications are almost impossible.

We had a good and ingeniously arranged dinner. All sorts of ordinary foods are not to be had in this part of the country, and our hostess had, by able thinking, arranged a meal which skillfully concealed the things that were lacking. Among other things, I observed that we had a series of most delicious wines--for our host of that evening also had a wonderful cellar. They had told us just before dinner that the Germans had taken an inventory of their wines and had forbidden them to touch another drop, so I wondered whether they were not incurring some risk in order to give us the wine that they considered indispensable. When I asked our hostess, she told me that it was very simple, that all they needed to do was to drink a part of several bottles, refill them partially with water, seal them, and put them back in the cellars; she said scornfully that "_les Boches_ don't know one wine from another," and had not yet been able to detect the fraud. They had a lot of cheap champagne in the cellar and had been filling them up with that, as they prefer any champagne to the best vintage Burgundies. Once in a while there is a little satisfaction reserved for a Belgian.

We were called at daybreak and were on the road at eight o'clock, taking in a series of small villages which had been destroyed, and talking with the few people to be found about the place. This part of Belgium is far worse than the northern part, where the people can get away with comparative ease to one of the larger towns and come back now and then to look after their crops. Here one village after another is wiped out, and the peasants have no place to go unless they travel so far that there is no hope of returning, perhaps for months together. It will be a great problem to provide shelter for these people so that they can return.

We cut through Beaumont, and then took the main road to Mons, where we arrived in the middle of the morning. On the way we had heard that the English nurses had not yet been released, so I made for the military headquarters and saw the commandant. It was evident that they had been hauled over the coals for the way they had behaved when Jack was there, for I never saw such politeness in any headquarters. I was preceded by bowing and unctuous soldiers and non-commissioned officers, all the way from the door to the Presence, and was received by the old man standing. He was most solicitous for my comfort and offered me everything but the freedom of the city. He said that he had not received a word of instructions until a few minutes before my arrival, but that he was now able to give the young ladies their liberty and turn them over to me. In order to get them, I was prayed to go over to the headquarters of the military governor of the Province, and an officer was assigned to accompany me. While we were there, the officer who had been so insulting to Jack and to Miss Hozier came into the room, took one look at us, and scuttled for safety. We heard afterward that he had been ordered to apologise for his behaviour.

At the door of the Provincial headquarters I found another car flying the Legation flag, and Monsieur de Leval came charging out into my arms. There had been a pretty hot time about the nurses and he had finally been sent down to get them out. In a few minutes we had them sitting on a bench in the Governor's office, while Kracker, who used to be one of the Secretaries of the German Legation here, was making out their _laisser-passers_ to come to Brussels. They were a happy crowd, but pretty well done up by the treatment they had had.

When they were all fixed I went in and asked for the release of Miss Bradford, another English nurse, who had been in prison in Mons and Charleroi for the past five weeks. I learned of her imprisonment almost by accident while we were waiting for the passports. After some argument it was granted, and I went with a soldier to the prison to get her out. I had not expected to find anything very luxurious, but I was shocked when I saw the place. It was the most severe, repressive penitentiary in the country--still filled with common criminals--and the English nurse was given the same treatment and rations as the worst murderer of the lot. There was the usual row with the man in charge of the place, and finally a soldier was despatched, to tell the young woman she could get ready to go. While she was getting ready, the director of the prison took me around and showed me with great pride things that made me shiver. He said, however, that it was an outrage to put a woman in such a place. The prisoners who do the work of the prison were going about the corridors under guard, each one wearing a dirty brown mask covering his entire head, and with only the smallest of slits for his eyes. They are never allowed to see each other's faces or to speak to one another. I was taken up to the chapel, where each man is herded into a little box like a confessional and locked in so that he cannot see his neighbour, and can only look up toward the raised altar in the centre, where he can see the priest. The school was arranged in the same way, and was shown with equal pride. I fear the jailer thought me lacking in appreciation.

I finally got the young woman out, nearly hysterical, and took her up to the headquarters, and from there to the hotel, where Monsieur de Leval had gathered his charges for luncheon. They were rapidly recovering their old-time spirits, and were chattering away like a lot of magpies.

While I was fussing about with them, I had sent my friends and fellow-travellers ahead, and now left the flock of nurses in the hands of Monsieur de Leval, to be conveyed by tram back to Brussels, while I tried to catch up with my party at the château of Monsieur Warroqué, at Mariemont. I made as much speed as my little car was capable of, but it was nearly two o'clock when I arrived.

The old château of Mariemont is one of those built by Louis XIV, when he set out to have one for each month of the year. This was his place for August. It had been destroyed, and the new one is built near the ruins, but the large park is as it has been for a long time, and a lovely place it is. There were about twenty at table when we arrived, and places were ready for us. More fine wines, and this time to show that we were in the house of a connoisseur, the flunky, in pouring out the precious stuff, would whisper in your ear the name and vintage. Warroqué owns a lot of the coal mines and other properties and is apparently greatly loved by the people. When the Germans came, they seized him as a hostage, but the people became so threatening that he was released. How many men in his position could have counted on that much devotion?

Immediately after luncheon we shoved off and made through the rain for Charleroi, where we took a look at the damage done to the town. It was already dark and we then turned toward Brussels and burned up the road, getting to the Legation at half-past six, to find all the nurses sitting up, having tea with Mrs. Whitlock and the Minister.

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_Brussels, December 10, 1914_--Yesterday afternoon we received the call of General Freiherr von Bissing, Governor General in Belgium, and of General Freiherr von Kraewel, Military Governor of Brussels. They were accompanied by their suites in full regalia. The military men were most affable, but we did not get any farther than tea and cigarettes. They talked mournfully of the war and said they wished to goodness the whole thing was over. It was a great contrast to the cock-sure talk at the beginning of the war. Von Bissing said that there were hospitals in every village in Germany and that they were all filled with wounded. It is becoming clearer every day that the Germans, as well as others, are getting thoroughly sick and tired of the whole business and would give a lot to end it.

A little while ago the _London Times_ cost as high as two hundred francs. It has been going down steadily, until it can be had now for four francs and sometimes for as little as two. The penalties are very severe, but the supply keeps up, although the blockade runners are being picked up every day.

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_Brussels, December 11, 1914_.--This afternoon late B---- brought an uncle to see me, to talk about conditions in France between the Belgian frontier and the German lines. Those poor people cannot, of course, get anything from the heart of France, and as the Belgian frontier is closed tight by the Germans, they are already starving. It looks very much as though we should have to extend the scope of our work, so as to look after them, too. We hear very little news from that part of the country, but from what we do hear, conditions must be frightful. In one little town Mr. K---- came through, only twenty out of five hundred houses are said to be standing. He says that the people are not permitted to leave the place and are living in the cellars and ruins in great misery and practically without food.

Out of a clear sky comes a new trouble for the country. The German Government has come down with a demand for money on a scale that leaves them speechless. The Belgians are ordered to make a forced payment each month of forty millions of francs, for twelve months. The two first payments are to be made by the 15th of next month, and the subsequent installments on the 10th of succeeding months. It is a staggering total, but the German authorities are deaf to appeals, and the Provinces will have to get together and raise the money in some way.

[Publisher's note: An entry from a later part of Mr. Gibson's journal gives a picture of the Belgian spirit under German rule and one of the few methods of retaliation they had against German oppression.

The Belgians are getting a good deal of quiet pleasure these days from a clandestine newspaper called _La Libre Belgique_ which is published almost in the shadow of the Kommandantur. It is a little four-page paper that is published "every now and then" and says anything it likes about the "Occupant." It also publishes news and texts that are barred from the censored press. It is distributed in a mysterious way that still has the Germans guessing, although they have detailed their cleverest sleuths to the task of hunting down the paper and those responsible for its publication. Every number is delivered to all the more important German officials in Brussels and, more remarkable still, it appears without fail upon the desk of the Governor-General--in that sanctum guarded like the vaults of the Bank of England. Sometimes it appears in the letter-box in the guise of a letter from Germany; sometimes it is thrown in the window; sometimes it is delivered by an orderly with a bundle of official despatches; sometimes it merely appears from nowhere. But it never fails to reach the Governor-General. He never fails to read it and to wax wroth over its contents. Large rewards have been offered for information about the people who are writing and printing the paper. The Germans rage publicly, which only adds to the pleasure that the Belgians get from their little enterprise.

My copy reaches me regularly and always in some weird way as in the case of the Germans. I don't know who my friend is that sends me the paper. Whoever he is I am much obliged.]

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_Brussels, December 14, 1914_--Yesterday afternoon late, after a session at C.R.B.[10] headquarters, I dropped in for a cup of tea with Baronne Q----. There was a fine circle of gossip and I learned all the spicy stuff. The husband of Mme. de F---- had been in prison for a month, having been pulled out of a motor on his way to the frontier, and found with letters on him. He got out on Thursday and they are quite proud of themselves. They were having a fine time discussing the predicament of the H---- family. The Countess was arrested last week because she, too, was caught carrying letters. She was released from prison and allowed to return home. Now the Germans have placed sentries before the house and allow no one to enter or leave: The old gentleman is also locked up there. The servants have been driven out, and are not even permitted to bring meals to their _patrons_, who are dependent on what they are given to eat by the German soldiers. There is no charge against them at present, so they have no idea as to how long the present charming situation will last. There was a great amount of gossip and the right amount of tea and cakes, so I had an enjoyable half hour.

[Footnote 10: Commission for Relief in Belgium. This name was given the original American Relief Committee within a few weeks of its foundation.]

Yesterday morning Grant-Watson was put aboard a train and taken to Berlin, where he is to be guarded as a prisoner of war. It is all most outrageous, as Lancken definitely promised that he would not be molested. Moral: get just as far away from these people as you can, while you can, in the knowledge that if they "change their mind," promises won't count.

Jeffes is left here for the present and may be released. We shall try to get him off, but in view of what has already happened, cannot be very confident. Jeffes is philosophical and uncomplaining, but naturally is not very happy.

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_Brussels, Sunday, December 20, 1914_--Jack got off to London yesterday after a visit of six weeks. Had it not been for the nearness of Christmas and the knowledge that he was needed at home, he would have been prepared to stay on indefinitely. His grief at leaving was genuine. He invested heavily in flowers and chocolates for the people who had been nice to him, endowed all the servants, and left amid the cheers and sobs of the populace. He is a good sort, and I was sorry to see him go. By this time he is probably sitting up in London, telling them all about it.