Chapter III · THE GERMAN MIND, SELF-DEPICTED (continued 4)

Two citizens of Brussels, taking a walk on Sunday, the 30th August, ventured as far as Koningsloo, in the suburbs. They were seized by German sentinels, and imprisoned at the post. From time to time an under-officer approached them, held his revolver under their noses, and grimaced at them: "Ah, ah, walk's over, walk's done!" (Fini, promenade!). One of the prisoners asked the guard if they were really going to be shot; in which case they would wish to make certain arrangements. But the soldier reassured them: "Don't be afraid," he said, "it's only a game of our officer's; he does it every day to amuse himself." And sure enough, towards evening the two prisoners were set free without further ceremony.

Sectional execution—execution by small groups—under the eyes of those awaiting their fate, was applied on a large scale at Arlon. On the 26th August, 123 (or 118, or 127) inhabitants of Rossignol and neighbouring localities were taken thither, and were killed in groups of ten or twelve. Madame Hurieaux was reserved for the last; she saw her husband and all her companions in misfortune perish first; and she died crying "Vive la Belgique! Vive la France!"

It will be of interest to reproduce here the narrative of a medical student who was present at the executions which took place at Arlon. It may be taken as a sample, so to speak, of the German procedure: massacre and incendiarism, with no previous inquiry; the most varied moral and physical tortures; capricious condemnation or liberation of prisoners; pillage of the communal funds, etc.

At the beginning of August I left Y——, where my parents live, to go to the village of X——, lying to the north of my native town.

Two days later the French arrived, making towards the north of Luxemburg. There were movements of troops in different directions, and soon one could see that battles would be fought in the neighbourhood.

I thought I could make myself useful by opening a small ambulance, which I did.

I was lodging with one of my aunts, who has a son of my own age.

One day an engagement took place between the French and the German troops, and a wounded German soldier was brought into my little ambulance; his name was Kohn.

I gave him first aid; I apologized for not being able to do more, and I told him that towards evening it might be possible to carry him to Arlon, where he would receive all necessary care.

I returned to my aunt's house; I found her in tears; they had just taken away her son, my cousin Jules, on the pretext that he had fired on them. It was a piece of stupidity, for there was nothing in the whole house but one revolver, and I was carrying that on me. I had had it on me all the time I was at the ambulance. I hastened to hide it under a chest, and I decided to go and demand my cousin of the Germans. I speak their language a little, and I was so convinced of my cousin's innocence that I imagined a few words of explanation would make them give him up.

I soon found him, tied to a tree, beside other prisoners.

I began to parley with a German officer.

He replied that there was nothing to do for the moment, that the prisoners would be sent to Arlon, and that he was convinced that if I followed them I should be able, at Arlon, to obtain justice for my cousin.

We set out for Arlon; I was beside the prisoners. At a determined spot we were handed over to other soldiers. I was greatly astonished, at a given moment, to see that I had become a prisoner myself; I was no longer accompanying my cousin, to save him; I was sharing his fate.

We arrived at Arlon; we were lined up against a wall. There were with us, notably, a woman, with two young children of nine and ten, an old villager with his son, and other people whom I did not know.

An officer on horseback approached us. He was, it seemed a judge. He turned to the soldiers and asked, pointing to each of us: "Did that one fire?" And the soldiers always replied in the affirmative.

Now it should be noted that these soldiers had seen nothing, and could have seen nothing, for they were not those who seized the prisoners in the village in which they were arrested.

The head-dress of the troops was entirely different; the first had helmets, and the second caps.

When the officer had finished pointing at us, we were informed that we were all condemned to death.

An old man was seized; I myself was seized; and we were pushed to one side, to be shot.

The old man's son rushed towards him and tried to drag him away from the soldiers. The result was that the son was seized, to be shot with the father.

This is how things happened:

The two were put against a wall; a platoon of soldiers commanded by an officer took up their position in front of them.

The officer commanded all their movements with a deliberation calculated to increase the torture of the victims.

"Load!"... Then a pause. "Take aim!"... Then a pause. "Fire!"...

The two unhappy men fell to the ground, groaning.

The officer went up to them, recognized that they were not dead, and again gave orders to fire, with the same deliberation and the same method. This time the father ceased to move; it took a third volley to finish the son.

We were then all led to a guard-house.

There we remained for three days. We were given nothing to eat. We fasted from the morning we were taken; it was only on the following day, or the day after that, that we received a little water.

In that room we were literally tortured.

We were forced to stand upright; an old man was groaning he was so thirsty that his tongue protruded from his lips and the flies settled on it. As he could not stand any longer, the Germans passed a cord round his neck and attached it to a ring-bolt in the wall, so that he was supported only on his toes. The cord stretched and the wretched man fell now to this side, now to that. The soldiers made him stand upright again by striking his face with the butts of their rifles.

At one time his trousers fell down and we saw he was wounded in the thigh, by bayonet-thrusts. Later he became insane. In his delirium he cried: "Prepare food for the cows."[50] It was a horrible scene.

At another time the woman was taken out, with her two little children, and all three were shot against the wall of the Palais de Justice at Arlon. The soldiers asserted that they had "found a German soldier's purse" in this woman's house.

The time passed in the most atrocious moral anguish and physical suffering. We had lost all notion of time. The soldiers insulted us, spat upon us, made signs that our throats would be cut, that we were going to be shot. They took a pleasure in drinking in front of us.

At a certain moment an officer of superior rank entered the room. He came up to me and asked: "Why are you here?"

I replied: "They accuse us of having fired on the troops." Immediately he turned his back upon me, but I cried, with energy: "Yes, and far from having fired on them, I looked after them. If you want the proof of this, ask the soldier called Kohn who must be in the hospital here at Arlon."

I then told him of Kohn. He went to the hospital, and returned some time later; he had found the soldier Kohn, who confirmed my story.

An officer on horseback (the judge) came to the door of the guard-room: we were sent out, my cousin and I, and without even questioning us he said, "You are acquitted." I protested, saying: "There are still five or six people there of my village who are no more guilty than we are."

They were sent out, and the judge told them, as he told me, without any further inquiry, "You are acquitted."

As for the unhappy old man, I will tell you later how he escaped. He returned to his village; he is crippled.

I remained at Arlon until the end of August, at the house of one of my relatives, whose business brought him daily into contact with the Belgian authorities and the German army. I was thus able to obtain a good deal of precise information.

The Germans entered Arlon on the 12th August. They came from Mersch, in the Grand-Duchy. Several days earlier, all the weapons the inhabitants possessed had been deposited at the Hôtel de Ville. The people of Arlon knew from the newspapers what atrocities the Germans had committed in the neighbourhood of Liége, at Visé, Herve, Battice, Warsage, etc., and they were far from meditating any disturbance.

On entering the town the Uhlans began to break in the doors with the butts of their rifles.

On the following day Commandant von der Esch, commandant of the town, had a notice posted up, which I have copied verbatim.

Proclamation.

Luminous signals have been made to-night between Freylange and the lower part of this town; one of our patrols has been attacked; our telephone wires have been cut. To punish the population guilty of these acts of ill-will, I order for to-day at 3 o'clock the burning of the village of Freylange and the sack of 100 houses in the west of Arlon. I also condemn the town to pay a war contribution of 100,000 frs., which must be paid over before 6 p.m., or I shall have the hostages shot.

Von der Esch.

While the communal administration of Arlon was deliberating on the subject of the war contribution, the burning of Freylange and the sack of 100 houses of Arlon was carried out according to the programme.

After the 100,000 frs. had been paid to the Germans, they summoned to the general headquarters, established in the Hôtel de Ville of the northern portion of Arlon, a police agent, named Lempreur, and instructed him to proceed to arrest those who had fired on the German troops. He came back to say that he had found no one. "Ah!" they told him, "you are going about it unwillingly! Very good; you shall pay for the others." And without listening to his pleading, without allowing him to see his wife or children again, he was placed with his back to a door and a firing platoon shot him down.

I saw the door at the Hôtel de Ville; it was riddled with bullets.

A few days later another army division replaced the first. Immediately the town was condemned to pay a fresh war contribution: a million francs.

The town could get together only 238,000 frs. It was let off the remainder.

From the day when I was set at liberty we used almost daily to hear of executions in Arlon; they were of prisoners, brought just as we were, from the neighbouring villages, notably from Rossignol and Tintigny, who were shot in small parties.

One of these executions took place in the courtyard of the Church of St. Donat. The Dean succeeded in obtaining pardon for two of the condemned.

The most important execution was that of 123 (others say 127) inhabitants of Rossignol and its immediate surroundings, who were shot on 26th August. They were taken near the viaduct which passes over the Arlon railway-station (towards the connecting station). They were killed in small groups of ten or twelve. Those who were not dead were finished with the bayonet. Each group had to climb over the surrounding corpses. They kept to the last a lady of Rossignol, Mme. Hurieaux, who thus had to see her husband and the greater part of the inhabitants of her village killed before her eyes. She died crying "Vive la Belgique! Vive la France!"

Here is one little detail which I was able to verify. When the receiver and examiner of Customs of Arlon learned of the approaching arrival of the Germans they removed all the money from the safe, leaving only copper coin to the value of about a franc. The Germans immediately proceeded to break open the safe, but succeeded only after two days' work. Infuriated by this discomfiture, they used the safe as a commode.

But whatever the moral sufferings inflicted on those who were executed, the tortures which the Germans applied to those against whom no accusation was brought were a hundred times more atrocious. Think of the martyrdom of Mme. Cambier, of Nimy, who was forced to tread on her son's brains; and the sufferings of the innumerable men and women of whom the Germans made a living shield, at Anseremme, Mons, Tournai, and Charleroi (p. 195). As to Charleroi, here is a detail not recorded by Herr Heymel. The prisoners collected at Jumet and Odelissert were tied in couples by the wrists, to prevent them from trying to escape when the French should fire on them. Moreover, they had to walk with their hands raised. When, by reason of fatigue, they dropped their arms, the soldiers struck them with the butts of their rifles. We know a man who was thus placed before the German troops, who saw one of his relatives killed at his side, and two of the latter's sons. He himself received three bullets, one in the right wrist, one in the left arm, and the third under the chin. He escaped, but is lamed for life.

Imagine also the tortures suffered by the civil prisoners who, in defiance of all justice, were sent to Germany. Hunger, thirst, threats, and insults; packed into cattle-trucks, they had no room to lie down, or even to sit. Above all, they had no news of their families. On the 4th September, 1914, more than 100 inhabitants of Lebbeke, near Termonde, were placed as a screen in front of the German troops marching against Termonde. In the evening, those who had not been shot were added to others just captured, and all together, in all some 300, were sent into Germany. At the moment when these unhappy folk were leaving Lebbeke the Germans set fire to some of the houses, and kindly informed the prisoners that the whole village was about to be burned. Moreover, they said, the women and children would in part be killed, and the rest driven off in the direction of Termonde and Gand. Imagine, if you can, the sufferings endured by these unfortunate people for the two months during which they remained without news of their homes, in the conviction that their families were massacred or wandering wretchedly across the devastated country. While by means of these cruel lies, whose horrible effect was systematically calculated, they filled with despair the hearts of those who were departing, the soldiers amused themselves also by wringing the hearts of the poor women—mothers, wives, sisters, daughters—who remained in the village. For they, too, were for long weeks without news from the prisoners, and the abominable manner in which the German troops, drunk with carnage, had assassinated, on the day of exodus, twelve of their fellow-citizens (9th Report), permitted them to entertain the most frightful suppositions.

Make no mistake: the case of Lebbeke is far from being exceptional. All the civil prisoners were treated with the same barbarity, a barbarity utterly unjustified, since, in the judgment of Baron von Bissing, no complaint had been formulated against the civil prisoners who have been sent back to their homes. But all have not returned. In June 1915, for example, most of the prisoners from Visé were still in Germany. As for those taken from Rossignol and so many other localities in Luxemburg, they will never return, alas! They have been shot without pretext.

Another horrible torture consists in the suppression of communications between the Belgian soldiers and their parents. Since mid-October 1914 all connections have been severed between the Belgian army which is fighting on the Yser and the Belgians remaining in Belgium. Those who seek to establish communication between the Belgian soldiers and their relatives are spied out and sentenced.

Against Jules-Arthur de Cuypere, bachelor, domiciled in the last instance at Liége, a deprivation of liberty of five months has been pronounced, because, contrary to the known regulations, he took charge, during a number of journeys to the Dutch frontier and into Holland, of a large number of letters from Belgian soldiers in France and interned Belgian prisoners in Holland; and delivered these letters, addressed to different members of families of Namur and the environs, at their addresses, by carrying them thither. At the same time he rendered himself guilty by crossing the frontier.

(L'Ami de l'Ordre, 5-6th July, 1915.)

Since the spring of 1915 the posts have been operating between Belgium and Holland, so that those few privileged persons who have a correspondent in Holland might thus indirectly obtain news if the Germans had authorized correspondence through an intermediary. But they have strictly forbidden it (pp. 22-3). They could easily organize a service enabling soldiers to write to their relations: "I am going on all right ... I am wounded ..." and enabling the relations to reply, so that the soldiers' families would be reassured; while now the only news arrives by precarious methods, and often goes astray. But what our enemies desire is to make the poor relatives suffer as much as possible. We do not believe that such a form of torture has ever in any previous war been inflicted on a whole population. It is untrue, it seems, that Bismarck was the first to use the words which have been attributed to him: "In territories occupied by our victorious troops the inhabitants must be left nothing but eyes to weep with." But he quoted them with an approval that made them his own. Now they have come true.

Here is quite another kind of moral torture. The Germans are fond of leading small groups of Belgian prisoners through the streets of Brussels at moments when the latter are as busy as possible: for instance, on Sunday afternoons. One can imagine the humiliation of the poor soldiers exposed to the curiosity of the crowd; but it delights their guardians. It was evidently the desire to enjoy, simultaneously, the misery of the prisoners and the impotent anger of the spectators which led the Germans, at the time of their entry into Louvain on the 19th August, and into Brussels on the 20th, to place a few Belgian countrymen, with their hands tied behind their backs, at the head of their columns. In ancient Rome captives used to walk before the triumphal car of the conqueror. Do not the Germans realize how utterly this practice is contrary to the humane principles enjoined by Article 4 of the Hague Convention? We must suppose that they do not; for not only do they not abandon the practice, but they make use of it to coin money.

Condemnation of the Town of Roulers.

Amsterdam, 29th May (Havre Agency).—The town of Roulers is condemned to pay a fresh fine of 1½ millions, because the population cheered Belgian prisoners passing through the town.

(L'Ami de l'Ordre.)

Impossible, it will be said, to invent tortures yet more diabolic. But no, when it is a question of doing evil, Kultur can surpass itself.

Imagine the mentality of the person who sent to M. Brostens, of Antwerp, the identity-disc of his son, who was taken prisoner. And imagine the inward joy of the sender in picturing the parents' despair on receiving the medal!

Refined Cruelty.

When they make prisoners they sometimes detach the identification-discs from the men and send them, unaccompanied by comment, to the parents, to make them believe that their son is dead.

This is what has just happened to M. Brostens, Lieutenant of Customs, of Antwerp. Having received, a few days ago, his son's regimental number, he went into mourning. So yesterday morning, what was not his amazement to see his son return, who, having been made prisoner at the beginning of the war, had succeeded in escaping.

(Le Matin, Antwerp, 14th September, 1914.)

Here, perhaps, the culprit was an uncultivated soldier. But what are we to think of the mentality of Baron von der Goltz, when he informs us by placard that a record is kept in a register of all aggressions against the German army, and that the localities in which such attacks have taken place may expect to receive their punishment?

General Government of Belgium.

It has recently happened, in the regions which are not at present occupied by the German troops in more or less force, that convoys of wagons or patrols have been attacked, by surprise, by the inhabitants.

I draw the attention of the public to the fact that a register is kept of the towns and communes in whose vicinity such attacks have occurred, and that they may expect their punishment as soon as the troops are passing through their neighbourhood.

The Governor-General in Belgium, Baron von der Goltz, General-Field-Marshal.

When one learns on what ultra-trivial hints the German troops have based their condemnation of the inhabitants, one may conclude that not a commune will escape repression. It was evidently this generalized terror which the Governor wished to inspire. He, too, wished to have the pleasure of inflicting moral torture.

To give point to the contrast between the mentality of our oppressors and our own, between their Kultur and our civilization, we should like to reproduce a letter in which a young girl, living in Gand, invited Belgian women to enter the hospitals for the purpose of assisting the wounded, Germans as well as our own, to write to their families. Committees of this kind were immediately constituted, notably in Brussels.

Belgian Compassion.

M. Paul Fredericq, Professor at the University of Gand, writes to the Soir:—

"A young girl of Gand has had a touching inspiration.

"She wished Belgian women who can write English and German, forgetting international hatred, and listening only to the voice of compassion, to attend at the ambulances and hospitals, in order to place themselves at the disposal of wounded foreigners, without distinction, and to write, at their dictation, letters intended to reassure their relatives.

"This truly Christian work of charity would put an end to the anguish of so many mothers, who know that their sons are engaged on the Belgian battlefields.

"I am certain that this appeal to the good hearts of our girls and women will not have been made in vain."

While the Germans are butchering our sons and wives, this is what Belgian hearts are thinking of.

(Le Peuple, 10th August, 1914.)

Finally, to close with, here is a numerical example which, better than any reasoning, gives you the Kultur of the German Army to the life:—

On the morning of Sunday, the 23rd August, 1914, the population of Fonds de Leffe (a suburb of Dinant) comprised 251 men and boys, including some fifteen inhabitants of neighbouring communes whom the Germans had dragged away with them. By the evening of the following day 243 had been put to death: none of those taken was spared; the eight who escaped the massacre had succeeded in fleeing. "Happily"—we were told by a woman whose father, husband, and four brothers-in-law were massacred—"happily many of the men had left for the army and were fighting on the Yser. A strange war, in which the soldiers are less exposed than the children, the old folks, and the sick who are left at home!"

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