chapter iv

visé destroyed: a premeditated crime

one of the first things i have to deal with is also one of the most fearful i ever saw, and i only hope that i may never again witness the like of it.

i have mentioned already the reign of terror with which the germans ruled the wretched townlet ever since they entered it. something fateful might happen any moment, and actually occurred during the night of august 15th and 16th.

on that evening the soldiers, rough fellows from east prussia, had been revelling in the cafés, shouting filthy ditties in the streets, and most of them in a very advanced state of intoxication. at ten o'clock suddenly a shot was heard. the fellows took their rifles, which they had placed against the walls, or on the tables of the cafés, and ran into the street shouting in a mad rage: "they have been shooting!" the most tipsy began to shoot at doors and windows simultaneously in various parts of the town, which made the people in the houses scream, and this excited the mad drunken soldiers all the more.73 they forced their way into several houses, knocking down the frightened inhabitants when these tried to stop them.

it is stated that some of the wretched people were even pinioned and beaten. their assailants then stumbled up the stairs and began to shoot wildly from the upper stories into the dark streets, where their own raving comrades were rushing about like madmen. some civilians who in great fear had come to their front door to see what was happening were shot down.

after this game had been going on for some time, the order was given: "everybody must come outside." doors and windows were forced open and broken, and men, women, and children driven out of the houses. they were at once ruthlessly separated. men who assisted their aged mothers, or carried their little babies, were taken away from their families, and driven away, leaving their wailing and weeping wives and children behind, while the flames from burning houses threw a lurid light on the sad scenes of that terrible evening.

the poor wretches, who expected to be killed at any moment, were driven into squares or the meadows, where they were exposed to the chilly night air, so that several babies perished. only the next morning were the women and children allowed to leave—that is to say, they were told to take the shortest way to maastricht.

a number of the men were taken to germany, the others were kept as prisoners in the neighbourhood, and by and by had to suffer the shame of being74 compelled to work for the enemy. amongst them were men who had never done any manual work, such as an aged notary public.

even a doctor of the red cross established at st. hadelin college had been removed in his white overall and wearing his red cross armlet. this was dr. labye, who already had rendered signal services to the wounded germans. in consequence of his detention twenty of them were left in the hospital without medical attendance....

during the night only a few houses were burnt down; the general destruction followed the next morning, sunday, august 16th, and just as i reached the little town the flames were raging all over the place in a fierce blaze.

i shall never forget that sight. the meuse separated me from the raging blaze on the opposite bank. the flames roared violently, roofs and rafters and walls crashed down, and the wood of living trees was burning and screeching loudly. i saw but a sea of fire, one glaring glow, and the air was scorchingly hot. a light breeze blew through the place, and made clouds of smoke to whirl through the streets like avalanches of snow. the view down the longer streets leading straight from the hill-tops to the meuse was very fantastic.

the wind seemed to play with the smoke, rolling dense volumes down the slopes which dispersed only when they reached the bank along the river. whilst the flames soared high up from the roofs, the walls of the houses stood still erect, and everywhere in the windows one saw those miserable little white flags, symbols of submission, mute prayers75 that submission should be rewarded by sparing the life and possession of the inhabitants....

i stood near the spot where the ferry-boat used to take people across; but to cross was now out of the question, for any one alighting on the opposite side would be landed in the scorching glare. therefore, i returned to lixhe, where i might try to cross the river by the pontoon-bridge, and get to visé along the other bank of the meuse.

on the way i was stopped by two soldiers, one of whom examined my papers, and, finding that i was a journalist, revealed himself as a colleague, in ordinary times editor of the k?lnische zeitung. he shook both my hands quite excitedly, glad to meet a colleague, and, better still, one from the "friendly" netherlands.

i had to listen to a prolonged hymn of praise of the netherlanders, who were such sensible people, and the best friends of the germans; protestations which did not interest me in the least at that moment. on the contrary, it struck me as deplorable that this man did not say a single word of his own accord about the horrible thing happening close by: the destruction of an entire community! he did not seem to attach any importance to it....

as soon as the "friendly" netherlander thought that he had swallowed sufficient praise, i began to ask questions about the meaning of that wanton devastation, and why it was inflicted on the population! before answering, he looked round in a casual manner, as if thinking: "oh, it's that bit of fire you refer to!" and then exploded in a string of imprecations against the population.

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it is a lamentable sign that this german, probably well educated, had not taken the slightest trouble to find out the reason for this wholesale wrecking of a town, that the whole affair impressed him so little. "somebody" had said that those cursed civilians had been shooting, that explained it to his satisfaction, and gave him ample cause for coarse abuse of the wretched people.

how many soldiers had fallen in consequence of this attack by francs-tireurs he knew not; which troops had witnessed the occurrence he could not say. all he did know was that these troops had left in the morning, leaving a small force behind to impose the punishment.

the bridge-command at the pontoon-bridge near lixhe allowed me to cross, after requesting me very pressingly to make very clear what swine these belgians were, who fired so treacherously at unsuspecting soldiers, put out the eyes of the wounded, cut off their hands and genitals. when i asked where all these things had happened, the answer was: "everywhere!" of course, i promised them to do everything they wanted.

very large divisions marched from visé to the pontoon bridge in the direction of tongres. after the liège forts had been taken the bridge might be passed in perfect safety. all day long troops came along that road without interruption. i could quite see that the soldiers who were at visé the previous day, and brought about the conflagration, were gone, for they had left their traces behind. all along the road lay parts of bicycles, shoes, instruments, toys, and so on, everything new77 and evidently looted from the shops. very valuable things were among them, everything crushed and smashed by the cavalry horses, the clumsy munition and forage waggons, or the heavy wheels of the guns.

a little farther on a few houses were left undamaged, because they stood outside the town proper. a woman who had remained in her house stood outside with cigar-boxes under her arm. she offered cigars from an open box to the soldiers of the passing divisions. to me she seemed to be out of her mind, as she stood there trembling, her face distorted from hypernervousness. her cringing kindness was of no avail, for i noticed a couple of days afterwards that her house too had been totally destroyed.

on the first houses of the town large bills had been stuck, intimating that they were a netherlander's property, but obviously that had not impressed the tipsy soldiers to any extent, for they had been wrecked all the same for the greater part.

the whole town was like a sea of fire. the germans, who are nothing if not thorough, even in the matter of arson, had worked out their scheme in great detail. in most houses they had poured some benzine or paraffin on the floor, put a lighted match to it, and thrown a small black disc, the size of a farthing, on the burning spot, and then immediately the flames flared up with incredible fury. i do not know the constituents of this particular product of "kultur."

nor did i see any inhabitants in the burning78 town. it was practically impossible to stay in the streets; burning walls and roofs and gutters crashed down with a great noise, so that the streets were as much on fire as the houses themselves. only at the crossings were any soldiers to be seen, who, in various stages of intoxication, constantly aimed at the burning houses, and shot everything that tried to escape from the burning stables and barns: pigs, horses, cows, dogs, and so on.

suddenly i saw a boy about twelve years old in one of the burning streets. he waved his arms, rushed madly to and fro, calling for his father and mother, and his little brother and sisters. he was in danger of perishing in the fire, or being killed by the murderous bullet from a rifle. i ran after him, laid hold of him, and in spite of his resistance pulled him back. fortunately i met a couple of kind, sober soldiers to whom i told the story, and who promised to send the boy away from the burning town.

shortly afterwards i met a netherland red cross motor-car. the male nurses, who had met me already on former occasions during the war, recognised me, rushed up to me, and forced me to come with them to the car. here they tried to explain with a torrential flow of words that i exposed myself to the greatest danger by coming here, as nearly all the soldiers were drunk, shot at every civilian, and so on.

they insisted upon my staying near the car, and be a little safer under the protection of the red cross. they told me how they had to drag an old woman out of her house, who refused to come with79 them, and in her despair shouted nothing but: "let me die!—let me die!"

i could not say or do anything, for i felt as if stunned, and let them lead me where they liked; so they gave me a glass of claret, and that revived me.

a few moments after they went away i went also, and entered the burning town once more. a netherland family lived in villa rustica, and i had promised to make inquiries about them.

as i stood there looking at the ruins of what was once so fine a house, a small group of refugees approached, carrying as usual their miserable parcels in which they had hurriedly collected the things that had the least value. as they saw me they shuddered and shivered and crept closer together. most of them wept and sobbed, and their faces were twisting nervously.

i went up to them and explained that there was no need at all to be afraid of me. they were able to give me news of the inhabitants of villa rustica. the owner had died a few days since, from a paralytic stroke, brought on by the emotions caused by the german horrors, whereas madame, who had heroically intervened on behalf of some victims, was probably at st. hadelin college.

my poor informants had not yet made up their mind where to go, fearing that they might not be permitted to enter the netherlands as they were without means of subsistence. i assured them, however, that our conception of neighbourly love and charity was different, and that they would be hospitably received.

i showed them the way to eysden, and they had80 scarcely started when a cavalry patrol came racing on, the men tipsy and their seat rather unstable. seeing the refugees, they aimed their rifles at them and roared "hands up!" the poor creatures not only put up their hands, but fell on their knees, and muttered incoherent words. the women folded their hands, and stretched them out to the cavalry, as if praying for mercy. the soldiers looked at the scene for a moment, burst out in a harsh laughter, spurred on their horses, and raced on without a word. two of them stopped near me. i gave them, however, no time for threats, but quickly showed them the old pass to visé. as soon as they saw the german writing they said: "all right!" and went off.

i came now to the eastern boundary of the town, whence the streets slope gently towards the bank of the meuse. here i had an atrociously fantastic view of the burning mass of houses. i fell in with a crowd of dead-drunk soldiers, who first handed my papers on from the one to the other, but as soon as they understood that i was a netherlander they showed no hostility.

they sang and shouted and waved their arms. most of them carried bottles full of liquor, which they put to their mouths frequently, smashed them on the ground, or handed them to their comrades, when unable to drink any more themselves. each of a troop of cavalry had a bottle of pickles, and enjoyed them immensely.

other soldiers kept on running into the burning houses, carrying out vases, pictures, plate, or small pieces of furniture. they smashed everything on81 the cobbles and then returned to wreck more things that would have been destroyed by the fire all the same. it was a revelry of drunken vandalism. they seemed mad, and even risked being burned alive at this work of destruction. most of the officers were also tipsy; not one of them was saluted by the soldiers.

the beastly scenes which i witnessed in the glaring, scorching heat benumbed me, and i looked on vacantly for a long time. at last i went back and called at st. hadelin college, the head of which i had visited already once or twice. the building was still undamaged.

as soon as the reverend head, dr. frits goffin, saw me he burst out sobbing, and, taking me by the hand, speechless, he pressed it a long time. i myself also was quite dumb. at length he muttered:

"could you ever have thought ... that ... that ... such ... a cruel ... fate would overwhelm us? what crime did these poor people commit? have we not given all we had? have we not strictly obeyed their commands? have we not done more than they asked for? have we not charitably nursed their wounded in this house? oh! they profess deep gratitude to me. but ... why then? there is nothing left in the house for the aged refugees whom we admitted, for the soldiers we nurse; our doctor has been made a prisoner and taken away, and we are without medical help. this is nothing for the sisters and myself, but all these unfortunate creatures ... they must have food...."

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the excellent man went on weeping, and i was not able to console him and did not know what to say. he took my arm, and led me to the large common hall, where twenty wounded germans lay, who had been hit in the fight for the forts. he went to one bed after the other, and, with tears in his eyes, asked each man how he felt, and inquired, "are you ... properly ... cared for ... here? are you?" the sick men turned round, their eyes beamed, and they stammered words full of gratitude. others said nothing, but took the head's hand and pressed it long and warmly.

the wounded civilians had been put up in the small schoolrooms. some of them must soon die. some had burns, but most of them were hit the previous night during the mad outbreak, the mad shooting of the drunken and riotous germans. in another room a number of old women were crowded together, who had to fly but could not walk all the way to the netherland frontier.

near each staircase stood a blackboard on which the germans had written that to go upstairs was prohibited under penalty of death. the head explained that the germans alleged that light signals had been given from the top storey.

two south-american boys, about twelve years old, had stayed on and heroically assisted the head at his charitable work. dr. goffin was not allowed to take anybody with him except these two children in his search for the wounded, and to bury the dead. it is scarcely credible how courageously these boys of such tender age behaved. later the83 chilean ambassador made inquiries about them and asked for their portraits.

i also met there a compatriot, who had got permission to go to the netherlands, but declined to leave. she was mrs. de villers, née borret. on august 27th i wrote about her to de tijd:—

"four days ago her husband was buried. as he was addressing the league of old-retraitants at cherath he was seized by a paralytic stroke, which proved fatal. she has no longer a home, beautiful villa rustica being completely burnt out, and now in ruins. but she refuses to return to the netherlands, as she is still able to be of service to the people here.

"in cherath she saved the life of a good many. as it was alleged that there had been shooting, the priest, the chaplain, a retired priest, eighty years old, the mayor, and several leading citizens were condemned to be shot. none, not even the priest, was able to defend himself, as they knew not a word of german, and could not make themselves understood. mrs. de villers, who speaks german fluently, explained that the spot where the shooting was alleged to have taken place was not part of cherath at all.

"so this brave lady succeeded in getting the sentence of death withdrawn. but the germans wanted to torture their wretched prisoners on any or no plea. they were placed near the church wall, kept standing there all night, were told that they would be shot by and by, and threatened by the soldiers with their bayonets.

"in the morning sixty soldiers escorted them out of the village to the hamlet wandre, where the populace was told they would be shot. should one shot be fired by one of the inhabitants—thus mrs. de villers was told—the prisoners would be shot out of hand; if not, they would be released at wandre. mrs. de villers had, of course, secretly warned the inhabitants in time.

"she hopes to be able to render further services to the populace, thanks to her knowledge of german, and stays on,84 occupying her time with charitable work. a respectful salute is due to this courageous compatriot."

on the same day i wrote as follows about dr. goffin:—

"his face, unshaven since ever so long, is quite emaciated, and presents all the symptoms of nervous exhaustion. once more twenty german soldiers are being nursed in his college, where only once a german doctor came to see them. he (dr. goffin) and a couple of sisters have to manage everything by themselves, and the germans do not even dream of providing food for their own wounded, although the college is so inadequately provisioned that the head and the sisters have to deny themselves the necessary nourishment that they may feed the wounded.

"and how are they thanked for it?

"the reverend head has been notified already ten times that he would be shot, and he is frequently being arrested for alleged shooting from the building. this shooting is actually done by german soldiers alone, who are loafing and looting, as i myself noticed a short time ago. the head took me to a room where an old man of ninety, who had just received the extreme unction, lay dying. by his side sat a broken-hearted little old woman, his wife. this old man had been taken prisoner with other men of visé, and forced to work at a new bridge. the poor fellow broke down under the strain; it cost him his life."

i left burning visé deeply impressed by the savage scenes i had witnessed: men turned into beasts by drink, passion, and anger, doing all manner of wrong to the wretched inhabitants; but the impression became deeper by the great contrast: the perfect, charitable devotion of a virtuous priest, a courageous lady, and ever kind and commiserate sisters. never have i experienced so many emotions in one day as at visé.

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after taking warm leave of the head of st. hadelin college, i continued my walk to the netherland frontier.

i was scarcely outside the townlet when i met another little group of refugees, probably all members of one family. the mother was being supported by her daughters, all wept, and nervous exhaustion made them totter as they walked. every moment the mother looked back pitifully at the conflagration which devoured all around, including her slender property, for which she had worked so many years.

from the other side came two soldiers, one of whom she recognised, as he had been billeted on her. constantly weeping, her face distorted, she sent another glance towards that fiery blaze, looked at the soldier as if reprovingly, hesitated a moment, but then pressed the enemy's hand, sobbing: "adieu!—adieu!"

sometimes i felt as if i were dreaming and wanted to call myself back from this nightmare to another, better, and real world. and i thought constantly of the man who, by one word, had given the order for these murders, this arson; the man who severed husbands and fathers, wives and mothers, and children, who caused so many innocent people to be shot, who destroyed the results of many, many years of strict economy and strenuous industry.

the first acquaintance whom i met on netherland territory was a netherland lady married to a walloon, who kept a large café at visé. before the destruction she had asked me, full of anxiety, whether the germans would indeed carry out their86 threat and wreck everything. i had comforted her, and answered that i did not think them capable of doing such a thing. weeping, she came to me, and reminded me of my words. the whole business, in which these young people had invested their slender capital, had been wrecked.