William Parker of St. Louis, who arrived in London from Rumania last night, told of interesting things he had witnessed and passed through on his journey. He said:
“When we got to Breslau the mining of the town’s approaches was in operation and I had a good look at it. They were digging trenches about three miles outside of Breslau and buryinghorrible looking bombs eleven inches in diameter, row after row, as far as I could see. They seemed to fear a Russian attack.
“I was allowed the privilege of looking over their Zeppelins at Breslau, for use against the Russians.
“There seemed to be fifty of them, in tents with doors wide open. Operators, officers, men and equipment were all aboard, ready to start at a moment’s notice. They have sure got a system. I also saw some forty aeroplanes there.
“From Breslau we had a slow but not uncomfortable trip to Berlin. German officers who spoke enough ‘American’ to make themselves understood saw to it that we got coffee and food at stations along the way.
“You must know that ‘American’ is now officially recognized as a language. Signs up everywhere say ‘American spoken here.’ The bill of fare no longer reads ‘English roast beef,’ but ‘Amerikanischer roast beef.’ So all along the line. It’s all American now, not English.”
A corporal and two privates of the Black Watch, all wounded, have just arrived in London from the front. They were surrounded by a crowd and cheered in the West End this morning. The corporal, telling how his regiment fought, said:
“In the thick of it we were singing Harry Lauder’s latest. Aye, ’twas grand. All around us were the dead and dying. Every now and thenthe German shells burst and as we peppered away at ’em we sang ‘Roamin’ in the Gloamin’’ and the ‘Lass o’ Killikrankie.’ ”
Somebody in the crowd asked: “What were the Jews doing?”
The Highlander replied:
“Their duty. We had three with us, and bonnier and braver lads I don’t wish to see. They fought just splendidly.”
A private in the Berkshire regiment added:
“We had ten in our company. They were all good fighters, but six won’t be seen again.”
All of Servia is enthusiastic in regard to the campaign for the conquest of territory from the Austrians.
One of the most remarkable features is the ardent enthusiasm displayed by the Servian women. Many of them have taken a pledge not to love a man who has not killed at least one of the enemy.
The correspondent of the LondonChroniclesays:
“In —— the stationmaster, a brave old type, and one or two porters had determined to stay on to the last. ‘We are here,’ he said, as though the Germans would have to reckon with him, but he was emphatic in his request for me to leave at once if another train could be got away, which wasvery uncertain. As a matter of fact, after a bad quarter of an hour, I was put on the last train to escape from this threatened town, and left it with the sound of German guns in my ears, followed by a dull explosion when the bridge behind me was blown up.
“My train, in which there were only four other men, skirted the German army, and by a twist in the line almost ran into the enemy’s country, but we rushed through the night and the engine driver laughed and put his oily hand up to salute when I stepped out to the platform of an unknown station. ‘The Germans won’t get us after all,’ he said. It was a little risky all the same.
“The station was crowded with French soldiers and they were soon telling me their experience of the hard fighting in which they had been engaged. They were dirty, unshaven, dusty from head to foot, scorched by the August sun, in tattered uniforms and broken boots, but they were beautiful men for all their dirt, and the laughing courage, quiet confidence and unbragging simplicity with which they assured me that the Germans would soon be caught in a death trap and sent to their destruction filled me with admiration which I cannot express in words.”
A correspondent of the LondonDaily Newscables his paper:
“From all I hear of the progress of the German advance the Germans were in Amiens on Sunday. The city was evacuated and the railwaytunnel blown up. I judged it would be useful to visit the little town of Beauvais, twenty miles almost due south of Amiens on the road from Dieppe to Gournay.
“Crossing the bridge by the railway station, a French dragoon laughed when he saw our startled look at what rested below against the bridge supports. They are waiting for the Germans.
“The streets were strewn with broken glass bottles and barbed wire entanglements were coiled everywhere. The little place is in a hollow. One wanted but slight imagination to the flaming hell it could become at any moment.
“It was growing dusk, and I suppose I have never before felt such an urgent desire to leave a town.”
In a statement issued by the British War Office the following incidents have been mentioned:
“During the action at Le Cateau all the officers and men of one of the British batteries had been killed or wounded with the exception of one subaltern and two gunners. These continued to serve one gun and kept up a sound, raking fire and came out unhurt from the battlefield.
“On another occasion a portion of a supply column was cut off by a detachment of German cavalry. The officer in charge was summoned to surrender. He refused and, starting the motor off at full speed, dashed safely through, only losing two lorries.”
The Paris correspondent of the LondonChronicletelegraphs:
“In the fighting at Compiègne, when the British captured several German guns, the Dragoon Guards did wonderful work. There was one tremendous cavalry charge, in which these dragoons were accompanied by their farrier, armed only with his hammer, which he wielded with deadly effect, according to the men.”
An amusing instance of the thoroughness of the German censor was shown by a letter received the other day by a woman whose husband, an American business man, is temporarily detained in Berlin.
The envelope was addressed in her husband’s handwriting and was stamped with the censor’s official seal. Inside the envelope was a slip of paper on which was scrawled in a queer-looking foreign script:
“Your husband, madam, is well, but too communicative.”
A correspondent ofLe Petit Journalrelates a characteristic interview with Jules Vedrines, the well-known airman, who already has done distinguished service, but finds the service monotonousbecause he is not allowed more activity. His work is confined to reconnoitering for the troops and artillery. He says:
“If only they would let me go and leave my visiting card with Emperor William!”
“It was a unique sight,” says the Paris correspondent of the LondonDaily Chronicle, “when the members of the foreign embassies and legations quit Paris for Bordeaux. They left in the dead of night and their only illumination was moonlight.
“There was Sir Francis Bertie, in a black suit and bowler hat, talking to the Italian Ambassador, who, with Signor Tittoni, were distinguishable figures in gray and with soft felt hats. Myron T. Herrick, the American Ambassador, had come down with his wife to say good-by to his confrères, and M. Isvolsky, the Czar’s envoy, was chatting with the Spanish Ambassador, who, like Mr. Herrick, is remaining in Paris to perform the duties of courtesy that fall upon neutrals at such a time.
“The windows of each carriage of the special train were labeled with the names of the countries whose representatives it was carrying off. There was even an inscription for the more or less imaginary republic of San Marino, but no one appeared to answer to this honorific name. There were the Persian Minister and M. Romonos, a black-bearded Greek, and the Russian military attaché, in uniform, andles braves Belges,and all sorts of servants, including a Chinese nurse, who was feeding a yellow baby that had coal black eyes.
“At last a horn was blown and the train rolled away.
“Say what you like, it is no pleasant thing to see the world’s delegates pack up their traps and leave the splendid city of Paris to its fate.”
A priest of Termonde describing the destitution of that town to a correspondent, said:
“When the Germans attacked the town we had no guns. Our gendarmes and soldiers fought at two or three places and drove the Germans back for the moment, but with their numbers and equipment they could not help but win. Our men retired in good order and blew up the bridges as they retired. Nearly all the inhabitants left ahead of the troops. Some, including myself, stayed and crossed the river in boats yesterday.
“The Germans had entered in the night and set the town afire. The German soldiers seemed to go mad. They ran about setting the houses alight and shouting, ‘This is how we will burn Antwerp in three days!’ Nobody seemed to be in command, but I suppose that the burning was ordered.”
“Among a party of nurses who left Folkestone for the front,” says the LondonDaily Mailcorrespondent,“were a number of women wearing riding breeches and spurs and long coats and helmets similar to those worn in the tropics.
“Their duties will be to ride over the battlefield and look for the wounded and render first aid, after which other nurses will convey the stricken soldiers to the base hospital in motor cars. It is pointed out that many wounded have died owing to not having received immediate attention.”
“Wealthy young Belgians have done great work,” writes a correspondent from Antwerp, “by dashing at the German lines in armored automobiles, each of which carried a single machine gun. In one instance one of these cars stopped for lack of gasolene just as it reached a German patrol. A daring young Belgian jumped out and filled the tank, and although bullets fell about him, he reëntered the car uninjured and the machine started forward again, while the mitrailleuse was working constantly.”
Police dogs are being used in this war in Red Cross work for the first time, says a Paris correspondent. They are reported to be giving excellent results. They have been trained to discover the wounded man and to bring his cap or another piece of his wearing apparel back to theheadquarters of the Red Cross, and then to lead a nurse to the place.
Describing the flight from Paris, when the people feared the Germans were about to attack the capital, a correspondent says:
“This great army in retreat was made up of every type familiar in Paris.
“Here were women of the gay world, poor creatures whose painted faces had been washed with tears, and whose tight skirts and white stockings were never made for a long march down the highways of France.
“Here, also, were thousands of those poor old ladies who live on a few francs a week in the attics of the Paris streets, which Balzac knew; they had fled from their poor sanctuaries and some of them were still carrying cats and canaries, as dear to them as their own lives.
“There was one young woman who walked with a pet monkey on her shoulder while she carried a bird in a golden cage. Old men, who remembered 1870, gave their arms to old ladies to whom they had made love when the Prussians were at the gates of Paris then.
“It was pitiful to see these old people now hobbling along together. Pitiful, but beautiful, also, because of their lasting love.
“Young boy students, with ties as black as their hats and rat tail hair, marched in small companies of comrades, singing brave songs, as thoughthey had no fear in their hearts, and very little food, I think, in their stomachs.
“Shopgirls and concierges, city clerks, old aristocrats, young boys and girls, who supported grandfathers and grandmothers, and carried newborn babies and gave pick-a-pack rides to little brothers and sisters, came along the way of retreat.
“Each human being in the vast torrent of life will have an unforgettable story of adventure to tell if life remains.”
The French troops are brave and fearless but too impetuous, says a correspondent of the LondonDaily Chronicle. He adds:
“Careless of quick-firers, which experience should have taught them were masked behind the enemy’s advance posts, they charged with the bayonet and suffered needlessly heavy losses during the fighting at Creil and Compiègne. One can only admire the gallantry of men who dare to charge on foot against the enemy’s mounted men and who actually put a squadron of them to flight, but one must say again: ‘C’est magnifique, mais ce n’est pas la guerre.’
“There have been many incidents of heroism in these last days of fighting. It is, for instance, immensely characteristic of the French spirit that an infantry battalion, having put to flight a detachment of German outposts in the forest of Compiègne, calmly sat down to have a picnic in the woods until, as they sat over their hot soup,laughing at their exploit, they were attacked by a new force and cut to pieces.”
“The Russian Cossacks have painted all their white and gray horses green, making them harmonize with the foliage, so that their movements cannot be seen by scouting aeroplanes,” says a London correspondent. This plan was first adopted by the British in the struggle with the Boers.
The correspondent of the LondonStandardtells how destroyers and submarines of the British fleet by close surveillance discovered the passage between the mines which the German destroyers used in coming out to the North Sea. With that information a flotilla of submarines and destroyers proceeded to round up the German ships. When the operation was finished the British vessels returned to their base with the exception of one submarine.
There was much anxiety as to the fate of this vessel, and as nearly a day passed without any news of her the fleet began to conclude she had been lost. Just as this fear began to be viewed as a certainty the submarine came calmly into the midst of the fleet and asked to be replenished.
The excitement among the bluejackets at the return of the wanderer spread to every ship. The questions on every lip were, “Where has she beenand what has she been doing?” The explanation was soon forthcoming, and all who heard it were thrilled at the daring feat accomplished by the commander and crew.
The submarine actually had penetrated into the harbor of Bremerhaven, where she fired two torpedoes. The Germans were panic-stricken, in the midst of which the submarine went to sleep on the bottom of the harbor. For hours the ship and crew remained there while the harbor was being trawled, but the nets fortunately passed over her. As soon as he considered it was safe the commander gave orders to proceed out of the German harbor, the submarine returning across the North Sea without mishap.
A newspaper correspondent made a motor trip to Brussels and tells of being ambushed by Germans. He says:
“We first sighted Germans when approaching a railway grade crossing outside of Aerschot. There were a hundred of them waiting for us behind a hedge, with rifles leveled. When a hundred yards away an officer in the trailing gray cloak stepped into the middle of the road and held up his hand and called out:
“ ‘Halt!’
“I jammed on the brakes.
“ ‘Are you English?’ the officer demanded none too pleasantly.
“ ‘No, American,’ I said.
“ ‘I know America well,’ he said. ‘Atlantic City and Niagara Falls and Coney Island. I have seen all your famous places.’
“Imagine standing in the middle of a Belgian road, surrounded by German soldiers who looked as though they would rather shoot you than not, and discussing the relative merits of hotels at Atlantic City with an officer of an invading army.”
“Why, it’s Kitchener!” gasped the wounded soldiers in St. Thomas’s Hospital, London, as the Secretary of State for War stepped in for a visit of inspection, says a correspondent. Here’s his chat with a trooper of the Royal Irish Dragoons:
“How are you getting on?” asked Lord Kitchener.
“All right, sir,” answered Trooper Craig.
“What’s your regiment?”
“The Irish Dragoons.”
“How did you get that hand?”
“My horse threw me and stamped on it, sir, just before it got killed by a shell in a charge in Belgium.”
“Ah, but you got into them, didn’t you?” Lord Kitchener continued, with a knowing air.
“Oh, yes, sir, we did,” answered the trooper, with a laugh, in which Lord Kitchener joined.
“There are some more waiting for you, you know,” was Lord Kitchener’s parting shot, and again the trooper laughed.
A curious story in connection with the sacking of Louvain is told by a correspondent of a London paper. M. Pousette, a Swedish diplomat, was there, watching the soldiers looting shops. He talked with a German lieutenant.
M. Pousette had a camera in his pocket. He asked the lieutenant if he could take a picture. The lieutenant, not knowing that M. Pousette had the camera, misunderstood the question, and, waving his hand toward a particularly fine mansion, generously said: “Yes; go in that house. There are a number of good ones there.”
A Swedish actress narrates how she was taken for a German spy in Paris, and, not knowing how to proclaim her identity and being surrounded by a shouting mob, she felt quite alarmed. Suddenly a lucky idea occurred to her.
She slightly raised her skirt, and, showing dainty little feet, exclaimed: “You look at this! Do you call these German?”
She was saved and carried in triumph to her hotel.
The sinking of the Wilson line steamshipRunoby a mine in the North Sea is described as follows:
“It was extremely fortunate that the little fleet of four trawlers, homeward bound with their holds full of fish, chanced to be passing almost within hailing distance of theRunoat that moment. The trawlers, regardless of the consequences to themselves, in view of the possibility that there were other mines in the neighborhood, pushed through the wreckage and picked up sailors and passengers who were clinging to timbers and rafts. These were persons who, in the first panic, had jumped overboard or had been blown into the sea. Others were gathered from the decks of the fast sinking ship.
“TheRuno, when she struck the mine, tilted at an angle which made it difficult to launch the lifeboats. Only two were launched, survivors said, and these after reaching the water were both overturned by frightened passengers trying to get into them.
“TheRuno, after settling by the head, remained in that position for nearly two hours, her bulkheads holding her afloat until 6 o’clock when the bulkheads suddenly gave way, elevating her stern high in the air for a moment, after which she dipped quietly into the depths.
“The work of the trawlers is declared by theRuno’screw to have been one of the finest episodes of its kind in the history of the sea.”
A LondonChroniclecorrespondent thus describes the irresistible advance of the German troops:
“When I wrote my last despatch it seemed as inevitable as the rising of the next day’s sun that the Germans should enter Paris on that very day.
“They were fighting the British troops at Creil when I came to that town. Upon the following day they were holding the British in the forest of Compiègne. They have been as near to Paris as Senlis, almost within gunshot of the outer forts.
“ ‘Nothing seems to stop them,’ said many soldiers with whom I spoke. ‘We kill them and kill them, but they still come on.’ ”
Cabling from Paris a correspondent says:
“In the fighting at Dieure the Germans signaled for a masked battery to open fire on the French by having a military band play Chopin’s ‘Funeral March.’ ”
A correspondent in Ostend says that among the French wounded in recent fighting was a dragoon with six bullet and three bayonet wounds in the upper part of his body. He was expected to recover.
A London correspondent says: “A half-sheet typewritten French dictionary of the most necessary words is carried by all soldiers of the British expeditionary force.”
A London correspondent says:
“According to the September Navy List just issued the Kaiser is still an honorary admiral of the British fleet, so it would seem that his resignation has not yet reached Whitehall.”
Private Whitaker of the Coldstream Guards, writing to his fiancée, describes the fighting at Compiègne in the following words, cables a London correspondent:
“You could not miss the Germans. Our bullets plowed into them, but still they came for us. I was well intrenched and my rifle got so hot I could hardly hold it. I was wondering if I should have enough cartridges, when a pal shouted, ‘Up, Guards, and at ’em!’ The next second he was rolled over with a nasty knock on the shoulder. He jumped up and roared, ‘Let me get at ’em!’
“They still came on and when we really did get the order to get at them we made no mistakes. They cringed at the bayonet, but those on our left tried to get around us.
“We yelled like demons, and after racing as hard as we could for quite 500 yards we cut up nearly every German who had not run away. Then we took up a new position.
“Here our cover was not so good. At our left were the cavalry. The enemy’s guns were blazing away and they got to us nicely, but not for long.You have read of the charge of the Light Brigade. It was nothing to our charge.”
“A report from Basel confirms earlier statements that the Kaiser watched the Germans bombarding Nancy,” says a correspondent of the LondonStandard. “Attended at first by a small staff, he took up a position on a hill overlooking the town, just outside the range of the French artillery.
“For several hours the Kaiser stood alone in an isolated spot in the full glare of the sun, his eyes glued to a field glass through which he was following the operations of his army. Finally he walked back to a waiting automobile and was driven away unattended.”
From Paris comes the story of the arrival of twenty-eight Prussian prisoners, the first to be seen in the French capital in the present war. It seems they had become separated from their regiment and lost their way. They asked a peasant near Meaux if the Germans had taken Paris and how to get there. The peasant replied that he thought Paris had fallen and would conduct them to the right road. When it was too late the Prussians found he was leading them into the British lines.
Telegraphing from Sydney, N. S. W., the Reuter correspondent says:
“An attempt was made at Nauru Island, a German possession in the Pacific just south of the equator and near the Gilbert Islands, to seize the British steamshipMessina. A German magistrate with a party in a small boat approached theMessinaand demanded to go on board her.
“ ‘By whose orders?’ the mate of theMessinaasked.
“ ‘By orders of his Majesty, the Emperor of Germany,’ the magistrate replied.
“The mate laughed at the magistrate and ordered full speed ahead, and theMessinasoon reached the open sea.”
“A magnificent Gordon Highlander recently attracted attention at the Gare du Nord,” telegraphs a correspondent from Paris. “He was in fine humor, although he had been wounded in the side in the fighting on the Marne. He had a sword in his hand which, he explained, he had captured from a Uhlan directly after the German had struck him with it, and he had shot his assailant dead.
“Some women of the French Red Cross on their way to the front caught sight of the Scotsman and hurried up to see if he was badly hurt. An animated conversation followed. The Highlander,anxious to express his gratitude to the French Florence Nightingales, hesitated a moment; then he kissed all of them on the cheeks. The crowd cheered delightedly and the nurses were not in the least abashed.”
A London correspondent telegraphs the following incident:
“The master of the Grimsby steam trawlerAgathareports that while fishing in the North Sea he sighted a ship’s boat afloat, and supposing that some disaster had occurred went toward it, put out a boat and found the derelict to be a lifeboat supplied with sails, mast and oars. TheAgathatried to tow the prize home, but immediately an explosion occurred, luckily too far distant to harm the trawler.
“A careful examination revealed that a mine had been attached to the lifeboat by ropes and wires in such a manner as to explode and blow up any ship which steamed alongside the lifeboat to pick it up.”
“There is much talk here,” says a Malta correspondent, “of a new German siege gun which kills as much by poisonous gases liberated from the shell as by the solid contents. The gun has a relatively small bore and is easily mounted on wheels.
“The shell is loaded at the mouth of the gun,but a metallic shaft, making a piece with the shell, is rammed tightly into the gun. Shell and shaft are shot together.”
A Bourges correspondent says: “Among the spectators acclaiming the French artillery passing through here were four lads, the eldest about 13. Several marches later the boys were found in a circle of the troops partaking of the mess.
“They swore to follow until they came in contact with the enemy and to lay down their lives for their country. A collection was immediately raised among the soldiers. The boys were terribly depressed at being compelled to return home afoot, charged with vagabondage under the military law. The magistrate, with tears in his eyes, acquitted them.”
Telegraphing from Rotterdam a correspondent of theNew York Sunsays:
“An American who arrived here from Berlin said to me:
“ ‘As the Berliners have been treated to a long, unbroken series of bulletins announcing German victories and have an invincible belief in the irresistibility of the German army, I asked why there were so few English prisoners.
“ ‘The reply was: “We are not troubling ourselves to take many. The hatred of our men for the British is uncontrollable.” This was accompaniedby a gesture which indicated that the wounded fare badly.’ ”
A Petrograd correspondent telegraphs the following: “An engagement at Krinitz, between Lublin and Kholm, where the Austrians lost about 6,000 prisoners and several guns, was decided by a bayonet charge. The Austrians got entangled in a bog, from which, after their surrender, they had to be extricated with the assistance of ropes.”
Quoting from a letter received from a French officer a Bordeaux correspondent tells how a French cavalry division held in check two German corps for twenty-four hours:
“When the Germans were advancing from the north we were ordered to hold a certain village at all costs with a few quick-firing guns and cavalry. It was a heroic enterprise, but we succeeded.
“The German attack began in the morning. A terrific bombardment was maintained all day; shells destroyed every building and the noise was infernal. We had to scream and shout all orders. The church tower was struck by a shell at the stroke of midnight and collapsed.
“Early in the morning we retreated under a hail of shells, after mowing down masses of German infantry. We gave our army in the rear awhole day’s rest and our exploit is mentioned in many orders as a historic rearguard defensive action.”
A young reserve officer who has returned to Paris, relating how he captured the sword of a Bavarian colonel, said:
“When charging the Bavarians I noticed that their colonel was striking his own men with his sword to prevent them from running away. He was so occupied in this that he forgot the approach of the French and was shot dead.”
A Rouen correspondent has obtained possession of the diary of a German officer, who surrendered to a party of stragglers, and quotes the following from it:
“Aug. 5.—Our losses to-day before Liége have been frightful. Never mind; it is all allowed for. Besides the fallen are only Polish beginners, the spilling of whose blood will spread the war lust at home—a necessary factor. Wait till we put our experts on these deluded people.
“Aug. 11.—And now for the English, who are used to fighting farmers.Vorwärts, immer vorwärts.To-night William the Greater has given us beautiful advice: ‘You think each day of your Emperor; do not forget God.’ His Majesty should remember that thinking of him we think ofGod, for is he not the Almighty’s representative in this glorious fight for the right?
“Aug. 12.—This is clearly to be an artillery war. As we foresaw, the infantry counts for nothing.
“Aug. 15.—We are on the frontier; why do we wait? Has Russia really dared to invade us? Two hussars were shot to-day for killing a child. This may be war, but it is the imperial wish that we carry it on in a manner befitting the most highly cultivated people.
“Aug. 14.—Every night now a chapter of the war of 1870 is read to us. What a great notion! But is it necessary?”
TheDaily Chronicle’scorrespondent at Amsterdam telegraphs as follows:
“The CologneGazettesays: ‘A thousand English soldiers are now prisoners of war at the Döberitz military exercise ground near Berlin.
“ ‘It is proposed to give English officers facilities for tennis and golf, but this plan is opposed by theGazette, which says that men of the nation which plunged Germany into the war will be better occupied sitting down thinking of their country’s sins.’ ”
“Official couriers arriving here from the American Legation at Brussels witnessed a freshsample of German atrocity toward the conquered Belgians,” says a correspondent in Antwerp. “Passing slowly through Louvain in an automobile, they saw sitting outside a partly burned house a boy 8 years old whose hands and feet had been cut off at the wrists and ankles. The Americans stopped and asked the child’s mother what had happened.
“ ‘The Germans did it,’ she said with spiritless apathy.
“Evidently in terror lest she had said too much, she refused to answer further questions. The child’s wrists and ankles were bandaged as if the frightful injuries were inflicted recently. Details of the shooting down of one Jesuit priest of Louvain were told to the American couriers by another priest who witnessed the affair.
“It appears that the Jesuit kept a diary in which he had written the following commentary on the sacking of the Louvain library: ‘Vandalism worthy of Attila himself.’
“German officers forced him to read the words aloud, then marked a cross in chalk on the back of his cassock as a target and sent a dozen bullets into his back in the presence of twenty other Louvain priests.”
A wounded sergeant brought from the front told a Paris correspondent that he owes his life to a bust of the Kaiser. The sergeant took itfrom a village school and stuck it in his haversack. Soon afterward a German bullet struck him, knocking him down. He found the bullet had glanced off the head of the bust, chipping off one of the ends of the Kaiser’s mustache.
A Jesuit priest who escaped from Louvain before the destruction of that city has written to his father, Philip Cooley, as follows:
“All our people escaped except eleven scholastics. One of these was shot at once, as he had a war diary on his person. The others were taken to Brussels where they were to have been shot, but the American Minister stepped in and stopped it.
“He told the Germans that his Government would declare war if any of those persons were shot.”
In one little town near Clearmont we came in for a strange echo of war. A woman in a high cart drove past quickly. I was talking with a woman of the inn.
There was silence, then an outburst from the handsome Sibyl-faced hostess who had two sons at war. “Think of it,” she said; “three of our soldiers were chased from the fight at Creil. Theytook refuge with her. She is rich and has a garden. She hid them in a hayloft and threw their uniforms in the garden. The Germans came. They slept in her house.
“They said: ‘We are forced to fight; it is not of our seeking. The French attacked us.’
“They found the uniforms. They put a pistol to her breast.
“ ‘We will shoot you if you do not say where these soldiers are.’
“She cried: ‘In the loft.’
“They shot them all—three traitors—and it would have been so easy to lie.”
The LondonDaily Express’sParis correspondent says that the British captured seventeen howitzers and a number of smaller guns. The German cavalry losses were appalling. A captured German cavalry officer estimates the wastage of horses, especially in the Belgian campaign, at about two-thirds of the total allotted to the army operating in the direction of Paris.
The army was hampered by a shortage of cavalry scouts, and since it entered France many battery horses have been transferred to the cavalry. As a result guns have been abandoned and have fallen into the hands of the British in large numbers. The horseless cavalrymen are now marching with the infantry.
The officer is despondent over the future, but thinks that the German right intends to stand in the positions prepared during the advance and await reënforcements.
The LondonDaily Mail’sPetrograd correspondent sends a description of M. Poiret, a French aviator who is serving with the Russian army, of a flight over the German position, accompanied by a staff captain:
“I rose to a height of 5,000 feet,” said Poiret. “Fighting was in full swing. The Captain with me already had made some valuable observations when the Germans, noticing my French machine, opened fire on it.
“A number of their bullets pierced the wings of the aeroplane and others struck the stays. We still flew on, however, as it was necessary to obtain the exact position of the enemy. Then the German artillery began. Their shells burst near the aeroplane and each explosion caused it to rock. It was difficult to retain control as pieces of shells had seriously damaged two of the stays. The fantastic dance in the air lasted twenty minutes.
“The Captain was wounded in the heel but continued to make observations. Finally I turned the machine and landed home safely. I found ten bullet marks and two fragments of shells in the machine.”
“The German attempts at spying are amazingly daring near Toulon. Attempt follows attempt with an incredible indifference to the sudden death which follows capture,” writes a correspondent.
“One of the patrol thought he saw a movement down among the vines on the side of a deserted road and knew that something was wrong. He immediately gave a hail. As there was no reply he fired two shots among the vines. Some one gave a scream, and the soldier ran up with his bayonet at the ready.
“Three men jumped out from among the vines and one of them fired twice at him with a revolver or automatic pistol. He was not hit and went right at them with his bayonet, firing again as he ran. He killed one man. More soldiers ran up and they chased the two men that were left down the deserted road to the little bay. There was a small petrol launch lying close in shore. Immediately afterward the launch put her bow around and went out to sea.
“But that’s not the most dramatic part of this evening’s business. It was suspected that more men had come ashore from the launch. A general alarm was sent out immediately. This precaution was well justified, for two men were caught trying to blow up one of the railway bridges.
“These two men were given exactly one minute to prepare themselves. They were shoved against the pier of the bridge and the firing party shotthem from so close a distance that one man’s clothes caught fire. He didn’t seem to know that he was hit at first, for he started trying to put out the places where his coat and vest were burning. Then he went down plump on the ground. The other man died instantly.
“When the German was trying to put out his burning clothes just before he slipped down he kept saying in broken English (not German, mind you), ‘I vill burn! I vill burn!’ He seemed quite unable to realize he was shot.”
“The French bluejacket is a fine fellow but in every way presents a big contrast alongside his present war mates of the British navy,” says a correspondent.
“To begin with, he must dramatize all his emotions. I saw a ship from foreign parts coming to Boulogne. One man, evidently expected, for there was a large crowd, stepped ashore. There was tremendous earnestness in his face. Courage, patriotism, duty—all these shone out, transfiguring a somewhat slovenly figure. Several women embraced him as he stepped ashore. This he accepted as a tribute due to him. When he had taken enough he waved the rest aside and pointed in the direction of the Marine Department Office.
“I go!” he called out. He made a brief speech,fiery, religious, earnest. Then he kissed his mother, said good-by to everyone, and crossed the quay to the Marine Department of War. His shipmates looked on admiringly. The customs authorities did not search him for contraband. He was the brave patriot going to serve his country afloat.
Here is a delightful story from a correspondent in France:
“A party of British bluejackets were being entertained by their future allies ashore. A middy came off with the leave boat at 10 o’clock. He noticed some of the men were half seas over and all were jolly.
“One of the bluejackets he saw had a bottle concealed beneath his jumper. He directed a petty officer to take it from him and throw it overboard. This was done—and the owner of it promptly jumped in after it. The next moment half the boat’s company had dived overboard; the other half were restrained by the officers. Fortunately every man was saved. Next morning there was a parade on the quarter deck. The captain complimented the men on their exploit of the night before, thanked God they were safe and expressed pleasure that he had such a body of men under him. The men received his praise stolidly. Then one spoke out:
“ ‘Sorry we were unsuccessful, sir,’ he said, saluting.
“ ‘But—but!’ said the captain, ‘I understood Seaman Robert Hodge was saved.’
“ ‘Yes, sir, but we dived after the whiskey, sir. We knew Bob could look after himself.’ ”
Details of how his son was wounded have just reached the French Foreign Minister, Delcassé.
Lieutenant Jacques Delcassé, his sword in one hand and a revolver in the other, was charging at the head of his company when a German bullet struck him down. Gallantly struggling to his feet, Delcassé again dashed at the enemy, but a second ball placed him out of action.
To his wife, who arrived at Bordeaux to-day, the Foreign Minister said: “I’m proud of Jacques; he did his duty.”
In the hospital at Bordeaux a soldier of the Second French Colonial Regiment was operated upon for a horrible wound in the thigh, caused by an explosive bullet. The orifice made by the bullet on entry was clean and narrow, whereas at the exit it was several centimeters wide, while the intermediate flesh was a mass of bruised and torn tissues, which were entirely destroyed. As the surgeon cut away the flesh the wounded man remarked:
“The blackguards! To think that I served two years in Morocco without a scratch, and now these German scoundrels have served me like this.”
Here are two instances of individual French heroism:
“In a village on the point of occupation by German cavalry, a French soldier, the last of his regiment there, heard a woman’s cries. He turned back. At that moment a Uhlan patrol entered the village. The soldier hid behind a door and then shot down the first officer and then one of the soldiers.
“While the rest of the patrol hesitated, the soldier rushed out, seized the officer’s riderless horse, swung himself into the saddle and, hoisting the woman behind him, rode off amid a hail of bullets. Both reached the French lines unscathed.
“The second act of bravery cost the hero his life. On the banks of the Oise a captain of engineers had been ordered to blow up a bridge in order to cover the French retreat.
“When a detachment of the enemy appeared on the other side of the bridge the officer ordered his men back and then himself running forward fired the mine with his own hand, meeting a death which he must have known to be certain.”
A remarkable story of a soldier caught in a trap amid a rain of bullets, who dug his way to safety with his bayonet, was told in a hospital at Petrograd.
“A body of Russian troops was lured into the open through the flying of a white flag,” the soldier said, “when the bullets began to rain upon us. There was no cover in sight and I began to dig a hole with my bayonet. Either it would be my grave or my protection from the rifle fire.
“One bullet hit me, but I continued to dig. A second bullet hit me and this went clear through my lungs.
“The hole was half finished when a third bullet struck me in the leg. Finally I finished the hole and tumbled into it just as a fourth shot hit my other leg. I became unconscious and remembered nothing more until I woke up here.”
A Reuter despatch from Paris says that a British soldier of the 6th Dragoons, suffering from bullet wounds in the hip, told of a grim incident at Compiègne.
The night before the battle the dragoon’s squadron was on outpost duty. Some firing had been heard, and he rode ahead of his squadron to find out what was happening, in the belief that French cavalry were engaged with the Germans close at hand.
The dragoon cantered along the moonlit road, until suddenly, in the shadow of the trees, he found himself in the midst of a group of horsemen—Germans. He had a carbine across the neck of his horse and fired point blank into the breast of a German trooper, with whose horse his owncollided. The German was as quick with his weapon and both men fell to the ground, the German dead, the British soldier with a bullet through his hip.
An instant later the British squadron came clattering up and cut the German detachment—about thirty strong—to pieces.
In the orders of the day made public at Bordeaux numerous cases of bravery are cited. Two of them follow:
“Private Phillips of the Second Battalion of riflemen, during the battle ran out under fire to his captain, who was mortally wounded, and brought him in. Private Phillips went eight times to the firing line under violent shelling to give water to the wounded and he also assisted his commandant to rally riflemen dispersed by the enemy’s fire.
“Bugler Martin of the 14th Hussars, a member of a patrol commanded by Lieutenant de Champigny, in a fierce skirmish with a German patrol, seeing his commander wounded and captured, charged the German officer who had made a prisoner of De Champigny, killed him with his own hand and rescued De Champigny.”
“Vienna Bakeries” all over France have now changed their title to “Parisian Bakeries,” says a Paris correspondent.
When fighting was general about Brussels smart women of the Belgian capital motored out to watch battles in the cool of the afternoon as gaily as though going to the races, says an Ostend correspondent.
Here is part of the description of scenes on the battlefields on the banks of the Marne as told to a Paris correspondent by an eyewitness:
“The greatest optimism reigns. I saw the remains of blown-up bridges and hundreds of lifeless horses and mules in the deserted trenches. Dead soldiers had been buried and the wounded cared for, and some priests were throwing burning brushwood on carcasses.
“In the blazing sunshine not far away I saw a little boy, son of a Turco—for the Turcos often bring their wives and children on or near the battlefield.
“He had a rifle of some wounded soldier which he was hugging in his little arms as if it were a toy. He was perfectly happy surrounded by evidences of death, destruction, suffering and blood. His father was lying wounded in a village close by. The child had strayed away.”
A Petrograd correspondent says:
“Wounded officers who have returned from East Prussia charge that the Germans are poisoning the water. A woman brought water to soldiers and they immediately became ill. Their officer tendered the water to a German, who refused to drink it, and when analyzed it was found to have contained arsenic.”
Four gunners of the Royal Field Artillery at Folkestone had an experience which has set all the Channel town to laughing, says a London correspondent. The gunners recently hired a small boat and rowed out into the Channel.
The following morning a boat from Calais, the French city just across the Channel, swung the missing rowboat down to the dock at Folkestone and the four gunners sheepishly followed.
Nervous because of the delay in getting to the scene of war, the four men had decided they would row to Calais. They had failed to provide food and water and found the thirty-mile pull under a hot sun a task they had not expected. Finally they hailed a French fishing vessel.
A correspondent in Limoges cables:
“On a train loaded with wounded which passedthrough here was a young French officer, Albert Palaphy, whose unusual bravery on the field of battle won for him the Legion of Honor.
“As a corporal of the 10th Dragoons at the beginning of the war Palaphy took part in the recent violent combat with the Germans. In the thick of the battle the brigadier, finding his colonel wounded and helpless, rushed to his aid. Palaphy hoisted the injured man upon his shoulders, and under a rain of machine gun bullets carried the colonel safely to the French lines. That same day Palaphy was promoted to be a sergeant.
“Shortly afterward, although wounded, he distinguished himself in another affair, leading a charge of his squad against the Baden Guard, whose standard he himself captured. Wounded by a bullet which had plowed through the lower part of his stomach and covered with lance thrusts, he was removed from the battlefield in the night. Then he learned that he had been promoted to be a sub-lieutenant and nominated chevalier in the Legion of Honor.
“This incident of decorating a soldier on the battlefield recalls Napoleonic times.”
The following incident is told by a Paris correspondent:
“Near a little village in Lorraine a German lieutenant was effectively using his artillery on the French. A Hussar had been taken a prisoner to the village, which was defended by 300 Germans.Under cover of their own artillery fire the French infantry advanced irresistibly.
“The German officer, who saw that he could not hold out, asked the Hussar’s advice. Of course the French soldier answered, ‘If you resist you’re all dead.’ ‘Yes,’ says the German, ‘but if we surrender, still we will all be shot.’ The Hussar assured him that France respects the laws of war, that prisoners are well treated and every one of them would be safe. The German officer quickly resolved to stop his resistance.
“Then the brave little French Hussar, with the German officer beside him and followed by 300 pointed helmets, marched to the first French officer and handed over his prisoners.”
A Paris correspondent cables: “Ten members attended the French Academy’s regular meeting this week and discussed the word ‘exode’ for the dictionary. ‘Exode’ means exodus.
“Marcel Prévost, the writer, who is an artillery captain, gave his confrères a description of the Paris defenses.”
“The scene is a village on the outskirts of Muelhausen,” says a correspondent in Bordeaux. “A lieutenant of German scouts dashes up to the door of the only inn in the village, posts men atthe doorway and entering, seats himself at a deal table.
“He draws his saber and places it on the table at his side and orders food in menacing tones.
“The village waiter is equal to the occasion. He goes to an outhouse and fetches a hayfork and places it at the other side of the visitor.
“ ‘Stop, what does this mean?’ roars the lieutenant furiously.
“ ‘Why,’ says the waiter innocently, pointing to the saber, ‘I thought that was your knife, so I brought you a fork to match.’ ”
Says a Paris correspondent:
“One Parisian, seeing his supply of absinthe was reduced, with no chance for obtaining more, drank his last bottle almost at one drink and died.”
The plight of a Swiss woman is told by a Bordeaux correspondent:
Living at Basel she married a German. Two sons were born to them. Afterward she married a Frenchman and had two more sons. All four of her sons were called to arms, two on each side.
The mother has just received news that all four have fallen in battle.
Kaiser Wilhelm wept when he signed Germany’s declaration of war against Russia, according to Liston Lewis, a lawyer of New York. Mr. Lewis said his information came from one of the highest officials in Germany.
“We reached Berlin on July 29,” he said. “There were stirring scenes there then. The enthusiasm of the people was deep. They were firm in the conviction that England, France and Russia were determined to make an aggressive war on Germany.
“An intimate friend of the Kaiser told me that Wilhelm did not believe such a thing as a general European war possible. He had been told by the German Ambassador in Petrograd that the Russian army was not mobilizing in the West, and had no intention of mobilizing.
“Not until the members of the General Staff put proof of the aggressive movements of the Russian army before him and insisted that he would be responsible for what might follow unless he declared war would the Kaiser believe Russia’s perfidy. Then he asked to be left alone for an hour.
“At the expiration of that time he was found in tears. ‘I can’t do otherwise,’ he remarked as he signed the declaration of war.”
Representatives of the German Government have arrived in Copenhagen with a series of filmwar pictures taken under the Kaiser’s immediate and personal supervision. These pictures, which already have been exhibited to a private gathering of press representatives, show the bright side of the German army, its appearance when marching and the magnificence of its equipment and organization.
The heroism of the Kaiser himself is shown in a number of heroic attitudes. One picture is headed, “The Kaiser Under Fire,” but it shows his Imperial Majesty as merely looking through field glasses and gives no indication of danger to him. Another shows the Kaiser’s luxurious headquarters, erected at a safe distance behind the firing line, consisting of a number of magnificently furnished asbestos huts, in which his Majesty can live as comfortably and luxuriously as in his palace at Potsdam.
A French private soldier of the name of Baba Couli-Baly of the 45th Infantry has been mentioned for his coolness and accurate rifle fire. While guarding a train of automobiles he put fifteen German cavalrymen to flight.
Second Lieutenant Boquet and Sergeant Major Mercoer of the same regiment have been mentioned in orders for their daring in effecting the capture of a German officer attached to the General Staff who was found making a reconnoissance in an automobile.
Two Americans arrived at Ostend yesterday battered and haggard, but wherever they met Germans the waving of the big American passport secured them politeness.
At Sottegehem they came upon some German officers in a wayside tavern. A lieutenant called for a song in English. One of the Americans obliged with “You Made Me Love You, I Didn’t Want to Do It.”
The lieutenant then said: “If you come from Brussels you must be hungry.”
The officer disappeared and returned with arms laden with ten pounds of butter and a hundred eggs. He then kindly offered to steal two bicycles to relieve them from walking.