CHAPTER IX.

THE RETURN OF THE ARMY.

A little after four o’clock one afternoon, shortly before the departure of the first division of the Red Cross, our attention was attracted by the heavy and continuous tread of cavalry and soldiers passing along the street. It was the Belgian army returning from a long and tiresome march.

Here was found a different kind of suffering from that which was ministered to in the hospital. Hunger and fatigue were stamped upon the countenance of each of these men, who, about a month before were industrious citizens at their daily occupations.

We saw them marching away in the early morning some time before, full of courage and patriotic zeal. For what reason they all marched off, or where they were going, we knew not; but were informed later by one of the officers that while on the march they had been attacked by the enemy, who were stealthily concealed, and fired into their ranks from both sides of the road. Several of the soldiers were killed and a large number wounded, but, having retreated promptly and in order, no great loss of life was sustained.

There were in the ranks priests, in their long black cassocks, wearing the arm-band of the Red Cross, who, as volunteer chaplains, had joined the army and were ever at the service of the soldiers on the march, and even on the battle field. We were informed that priests, and those preparing for the priesthood, were not obliged to serve in the army in times of peace; but, in case of war, they may be called upon to serve as military chaplains. When the present war broke out, hundreds of them joined as volunteers, marching in the ranks with the soldiers and undergoing their sufferings and hardships.

Many doctors rode along in motor cars. They were distinguished by a special dark-colored uniform, with a red collar and gilded trimmings. They also wore the arm-band of the Red Cross. Officers on horseback led each division of the army. The faces of all were disfigured with sweat and dust, while dust in abundance covered shoes and clothing. Some were staggering along, unable to walk straight, owing to the hard shoes and blistered feet. Hollow-cheeked, and with eyes which seemed to protrude from their sockets, they passed along, piteously imploring a morsel of bread.

Fortunately, the abundant supply of bread in the Convent had just been increased by the addition of forty of those immense loaves found only in Belgium. All of this was hastily cut, buttered and, with baskets full of pears, dealt out, piece by piece, to the passing soldiers, until, finally, only a small portion remained over for the supper of the wounded remaining in the hospital.

The servant maids went out to the village later in search of bread, but there was not a loaf to be found anywhere. All had been given to the soldiers. Two Sisters and one of the maids remained up all night. The oven was again heated and the usual supply of bread doubled.

Every large locale in the village from which, by the way, all non-resident refugees were obliged to depart, received the various divisions of the army which were allotted to them. About two hundred soldiers were assigned to those parts of our Parochial School unoccupied by the village refugees or not in use by the Red Cross.

Before the command was given to enter the schools, we saw soldiers, among whom were also priests, lying on the ground on the opposite side of the street, even as horses which, having run a great distance, fall down from sheer exhaustion. Some of these, we learned afterwards, did not have their shoes off in nearly three weeks. The socks, hard and worn out, were in some cases stamped into the blistered feet in such a manner as to cause excruciating pain. In some cases the feet were so painful and swollen that the patients had to be carried in on stretchers. In the meantime, several ambulance wagons had stopped at the school gate, and numerous wounded were carried in.

When finally one division entered d’Externat, a hasty search was begun for hay and straw. All that could be found was carried into the garret of the schools and the empty classrooms.

The refugees of Willebroeck were very generous to the soldiers, giving them all the provisions which they could find. Many soldiers were seen with pails in their hands in search of water. Of this there was a good supply on the place, and more could readily be obtained at the cistern which was connected with the canal. In a short time they were refreshed and cleansed from the dust and sweat of that long and tiresome march, and were observed sitting in groups on the grass which surrounded the school.

Soon after a large door, which one of the refugees carried away from his house in the village before it was burned, was found. This was laid on two small heaps of stone, so as to form a table. About half an ox was procured and a large part of it chopped into small pieces and put into a big iron kettle, which was then filled with water. The kettle was placed on a wood fire kindled in the garden, and potatoes and other ingredients put into it. After a time it began to boil in a lively manner, greatly to the satisfaction of those poor hungry men who were so patiently waiting for their supper. When this finally was ready, the knapsacks were opened and each took out a spoon and a small tin can, the cover of which served for plate, cup and saucer.

Probably the German General Staff failed to enjoy their bounteous supper that evening as well as did the poor Belgian soldiers their soup on the cool green grass. It must be remarked that each division was under the direction of an officer, who placed armed guards at the gates and passages. Perfect order prevailed. They talked quietly among themselves and remained strictly within the places assigned to their use; only once in a while one of them would knock at the kitchen door and ask for a can of water, which was soon understood to mean a can of cold coffee. This was never refused, and the grateful “Mercie” (thanks) was ample reward for the service rendered.

That night passed quietly. The soldiers had a good opportunity to rest on the hay and straw which had been provided. Some of them were astir at a very early hour. The large kettle was again placed over the fire and filled with water for the soldiers’ breakfast of bread and black coffee. Their only fear was that a message to depart would arrive before they would have a chance of “Coffie drinken” (drinking coffee, or breakfast).

At about eight o’clock one evening during the stay of the soldiers an excited group of eight men and two boys ran wildly into the yard through the gate, which had been left open for the soldiers not yet arrived. Great drops of sweat were on their faces. They were out of breath from running, and greatly excited. Some were bare-footed, having lost or thrown away their wooden shoes in the great haste to escape the enemy, who, they related, had entered a village three or four miles distant and had taken as prisoners a number of citizens and placed them in front of their own ranks. The boys had lost their parents in the confusion which ensued and were crying bitterly. They found a resting place somewhere in the schools that night and departed early next morning, because non-resident refugees were not permitted to remain after the arrival of the Red Cross.

The soldiers were called away several times for short intervals, after which they again returned for a rest. Thus the month of August passed. The frightful campaign progressed slowly but surely. Several times we had seen the hostile aeroplane, with its shining armor glittering in the sunshine, flying gracefully over our schools. How we then feared for our wounded, so helplessly lying within these same walls. One morning, about three o’clock, we were suddenly awakened by heavy, oft-repeated shooting, which seemed to proceed from the farther end of our garden. The alarm was caused by the appearance of an aeroplane soaring as a huge bird over the fortress. Mettrailleusen opened fire upon it, and the unwelcome visitor soon disappeared. However, we all feared its reappearance in the night. For this reason the towns and cities were kept in total darkness from eight o’clock in the evening, and searchlights illumined the dark clouds over and around the fortresses and other places of particular importance.

About this time we were informed that several thousand of the enemy’s soldiers were digging trenches and fortifying themselves on all sides of us. Every newspaper brought fresh tidings of most inhuman atrocities which filled the minds of the people with unspeakable horror.

In Belgium it was neither the German nation nor her soldiers, considered as a whole, who were held responsible for these awful outrages, because it was well known that there were among them many noble characters and Christians, renowned for their piety and fidelity to God and country, who were sacrificing their lives for what they thought to be a just and holy cause and whose families were also suffering and sorrowing at home.

It was alone, as should be known by everyone, the Godless element in the German army, led on and sustained by equally Godless officers, who encouraged, permitted and probably commanded those crimes, as we infer from the testimony of German wounded soldiers in our Red Cross hospitals. “If we do not shoot, burn and pillage,” said one of them, “we shall be shot ourselves.”

It seems incredible that any one claiming Christian convictions of any creed or country, could have acted as did the so-called barbarians who despoiled many of the most beautiful cities, towns and villages of Belgium.