A DRESSING STATION SET UP ON NEWLY CAPTURED GROUND
Copyright, Underwood & Underwood, N. Y.A DRESSING STATION SET UP ON NEWLY CAPTURED GROUND.In a very short time after the capture of new territory not only do the infantry and the artillery move up to maintain the new position, but the first-aid dressing stations take their places on the newly captured ground also.
Copyright, Underwood & Underwood, N. Y.
A DRESSING STATION SET UP ON NEWLY CAPTURED GROUND.
In a very short time after the capture of new territory not only do the infantry and the artillery move up to maintain the new position, but the first-aid dressing stations take their places on the newly captured ground also.
Out there tonight there are wealthy land owners standing knee deep in mud and water, side by side with their own stable boys and treating them on an absolute equality with themselves. It's a matter of life and death out there, and after all when it gets down to that very little else counts. A stable boy's bullet from the enemy's lines will pick off the wealthy magnate as quick as any other's, and the rich man's usefulness is no greater than his servant's, in the trenches. So they realize this fact and act as though it were true. The only place in all the world today where we have a real Brotherhood of Man is in the Allies' trenches on the Western front. Men display heroism there; but they don't know it. Men are brave out there; but they don't think of it. It never enters a man's head that he has been a hero, it's all duty, all just natural; they couldn't do otherwise. As the wounded Frenchman said about the worse wounded Paul, "I couldn't let that poor wounded fellow bleed to death." There was duty. It had to be done. "So I took my socks and pulled them on his feet. What else could I do?"
After all, heroism and heroes are not always shouted from the housetops and oftener they pass by unmentioned. But Someone knows.
The word "souvenir" means a remembrance. The Huns have certainly left a number of things which will be remembrances of them for a long time to come. At one of the battles near S—— after a successful charge in which the French had succeeded in capturing the first and second line German trenches, the boys found some of these souvenirs. One of them, a lad of twenty-two, picked up a fountain pen which had apparently been dropped by some soldier in the hasty retreat. The young poilu started to examine the pen and in doing so unscrewed the cap from it. Just as he had it about off, an awful explosion occurred and the fellow's face was blown half off, and his right hand was torn to pieces. We carried him to the hospital where he was treated by the surgeons but he hardly came to consciousness and the next day died in horrible agony.
Two days later another Frenchman discovered a watch hanging on a nail. It was a cheap thingwithout any intrinsic value, but when he saw it he thought it would be a nice little relic of the war and reached up to take it down. It went off with a boom and as a result he has no eyes. That will be his remembrance of the savage Huns to his dying day. He had been through many months of war and seen much severe fighting, but the only thing he will remember about the enemy is their treachery. Sometimes in war even the vanquished will praise the gallantry and the bravery of the enemy and will acknowledge that the fight was a fair one, but all the way through the present conflict the evidence against the Germans has been more damning and conclusive than has been brought to light against the most savage peoples that ever lived. Primitive Indians have done some fearfully horrible deeds in days gone by, but the Indian never had a fraction of the ingenious power for deviltry that the followers of Attila possess. A chair was found in one of the dugouts and when a soldier sat in it he was blown to atoms. There was not enough left of his body to be recognizable and the pieces were gathered together and buried in a nameless grave.
One British Tommy started to move a shovel which was found to be connected with wiresleading to a large amount of high explosives. It happened that the connection was not good and fortunately he received no harm, but he came within an ace of being blown to pieces. The Germans in their retreat left behind them poisoned food and flour and very often poisoned the water in the wells. No man is allowed to taste the water from any of the wells until it is thoroughly and carefully analyzed for strychnine and other deadly poisons.
On one occasion some Frenchmen saw a picture hanging on the wall of a captured dugout. It was noticeably crooked and their first impulse naturally was to straighten it. For some reason they did not do so immediately, but a few minutes later a Belgian boy took hold of a corner of it to pull it straight. He was killed outright and several others were stunned by the terrific explosion which crumbled the walls and buried two men with earth. The shelling of cathedrals and the burning of homes are only insipid pastimes to the Germans.
Sometimes clocks are arranged and the explosions are delayed, and the clock will tick away for days before it sets off the treacherous bomb. The I. W. W. anarchists have nothing on the Huns for sneaking, murderous trickery. Germs of one kindand another were frequently discovered in bedding and hay, and all of it had to be burned. The placing of germs in court-plaster and bandages in this country is but a faint echo of the similar atrocious deeds done over there.
Cases of high explosives were found under road beds, so that when any heavy weight passed over them they would go off. Men have now been appointed to study and investigate all these suspicious murder traps and report them, for the double purpose of forewarning the Allied soldiers and of bringing undisputable evidence into the peace conference. These enemies of civilized man must not be allowed to emerge from this conflict without a day of reckoning for their deeds, whether they be good or whether they be evil. One good German I did know of on the Western front, and I will not withhold the highest praise from him. His name was Kellar. Together with another wounded German named Bauman he had been taken prisoner. They were both transported to the hospital and put into adjoining beds. The hospital physician was examining and caring for Bauman, and in doing so stepped over to a little stand for an instrument, whereupon Bauman drew a concealed revolver from under the sheet and shot thedoctor. Everybody rushed up to see what was the matter, but hardly ten seconds passed before Kellar drew a revolver and shot Bauman dead. He then said that his company had orders to conceal their weapons and do such things, but he said he was human, and when he saw the kind and gentle doctor shot down by the patient whom he was caring for, it made him so mad that he didn't care if Bauman was a fellow-German, and so he shot him and was glad of it. That man ought to be an American.
The surgeons in France are doing most wonderful things and it must not be forgotten, that along with all the awful phases of the war, with all the pathos and the horror, there are many brighter incidents and many humorous episodes.
For remember, the war today is just a national life. The whole existence of these countries is thrown into the war and for the time being, that is the natural course of life. So they live for war, the same as another nation lives its existence for money, art, or anything else. The individual's life goes on just the same, only the conditions are changed.
And everybody is equal over there in the Allied armies. The English gentleman is fighting beside the French negro, or Turko, as he is called, and when wounded, lies in the next bed to him.
It's a wonderfully democratic arrangement.
One of those negroes amused me greatly. He was a big husky fellow with kinky hair and thicklips, a typical negro, only he spoke French instead of English. This French negro had had his nose shot entirely off. I had previously helped carry him into the hospital and he was indeed a dreadful sight to behold. A piece of shrapnel had got him and he came very nearly "going West."
But the doctors took him and labored with him day after day, and week after week. They took a piece of bone out of his side and some skin from another place and by working, and grafting, and rubbing, they finally brought out a new nose on the fellow, and he used to boast in front of his black pals that when they got back to Africa he would have the edge on all of them with those swarthy girls because his comrade's noses were big and flat and he now had a better looking one in place of his old flat one.
Many a little incident of a similar nature happens, both in the hospitals and on the field, and the men even though badly "cut up" are not all the time groaning; and the nurses even though very sweet and gentle are not constantly weeping. They'd soon be shipped back home if they were. They go about their work and do it, just as a doctor does at home.
A good many cases of mutilation were foundwhich were just as bad as that of the negro, and which in the beginning seemed just as hopeless. We carried in one British Tommy who had his entire lower jaw blown off. He presented a fearful spectacle. He was put to bed and very carefully prepared and treated to get his body into proper shape for the operation. This required some days. Then those confident surgeons started in on him. Day by day they built a jaw for him, taking a piece from here and another from there and by skillfully massaging and rubbing they by and by, got him fixed up, and then the most skilled dentists in the world took him in hand and put in teeth for him so that today you cannot discern that he was ever badly mutilated. All you can see is a little mark from the left corner of his mouth and a very small scar from the right corner. He lisps just a little also, as his tongue was partly shot away.
In cases where the limbs are fractured, or where certain positions must be maintained while the patient is lying in bed, a clever device has been arranged.
A frame which holds up the several parts of the body is attached to the bed, or is a part of the bed, and in this frame are many pulleys withropes and weights attached. When the wounded soldier who is all "broken up" is laid in this bed, his arm is laid in a form, and the form is lifted to the proper position and held there by the weight over the pulley. Some positions are necessary for rapid healing; some are necessary for comfort or for avoiding intense pain. By this arrangement, invented by Dr. Alexis Carrel, any portion of the body can be lifted to any height or angle and kept there as long as necessary. It is a very ingenious apparatus, at the same time simple and of inestimable value.
From the very beginning I had had an overwhelming desire to go to Belgium. Somehow that country has gripped the imagination of the world and mine as well. Neither did I think of any of the drawbacks, but simply said, "I'm going to Belgium for relief work." I had not been successful in being assigned to any unit before I left the States, so I started for France en route for Belgium on my own initiative. Mr. Bryan gave me a passport, but when I arrived in France Ambassador Sharp urged me to remain and serve there, as he thought it would be extremely difficult to get into Belgium when men were needed in France, and while I did as he advised, I never gave up the idea of going to Belgium. I had seen enough of GermanKulturto whet my appetite and change my peaceful views, but now I wanted to get the evidence from the Huns themselves in the country which they were governing. Consequently it was this, which atthe time impelled me to ask for a leave of absence and to apply for a pass out of France. I wanted to go to Belgium, but now for a different purpose than formerly.
I got a ten days' leave, but the only possible way of going was by way of England, thence to Holland, and from there over the Belgium border. I had my troubles. Of course I kept pretty mum as to where I intended to go. I went to the American Consul and got my passportvisé, that is, stamped or O. K.'d. I then had to go to the French Consul and ask him tovisémy passport. Inasmuch as I was going to England, which was an allied country, it was not very difficult to persuade the French Consul to let me go. I then had to go to the English Consul and get his consent to enter England. He did not seem very formidable and I finally got past him also. My reason for going to England I told him, was "en route to Holland." You have to have a reason for doing everything. But since England was not my destination, but only "en route," my reason did not need to be very definite and was accepted.
When I got to Dieppe, a British soldier or young officer I believe he was, who had had several "Bass' Ales," took me under his wing andundertook to see me through. He told the customs man that I was one of their boys from the front and all right, as I was going home to Blighty. Consequently I had little difficulty there. I was still wearing my ambulance uniform, which much resembled theirs, although I had a civilian suit in my grip. I wore the uniform so as to get the benefit of the special rate on the railroad, namely, one-fourth fare. As I sat down to have a chat with this Englishman he was so good to me that I got quite confidential. We had been talking about the brutalities of the Germans in Belgium. I said, "I'm on my way to Belgium now, I'm going around behind the German lines to see the Huns as they are." "You don't say so!" said he. "Yes," I said, "I'm going over to Belgium to see with my own eyes the picture of devastation." He didn't take it well. He got a little excited and said, "Well you better not, in fact I'll see to it that you don't go over to the German lines. I'll have you know that we're not funnin' in this business." I saw that I had got in bad. I always did have trouble in that way. I couldn't keep my mouth shut and whenever I opened it I put my foot in it. I began to back up. I don't remember just what I said, but I suddenly became veryconciliatory and gave him to understand that I'd far rather take his judgment on the matter, and if he thought I had better not go, why, of course, I wouldn't do it. I think he almost forgot it after a bit, but to make sure I opened up my grip and took out half a pound of smoking tobacco which I had drawn gratis at the Ambulance, contributed by his own countrymen, the Overseas Club, and with all the ceremonies, presented it to him.
A HURRY CALL. CLEAR THE TRACK
A HURRY CALL. "CLEAR THE TRACK."
JUMBO, THE BIGGEST AMBULANCE ON THE WESTERN FRONT
"JUMBO," THE BIGGEST AMBULANCE ON THE WESTERN FRONT.
The author is the second man on the left.
That tobacco (added to the ale) caused him to completely forget my purpose, and as the boat whistled off from the dock, he waved me a merry "Best 'o Luck."
But I thought many a time how close I came to being balked, by my tongue. A word from him to headquarters would have cooked the whole game.
On the water the night was very stormy. I guess all nights are on the English channel, but this one was particularly so. It rained all the way. It was a four-hour trip, and while I am an excellent sailor and had never been sick in crossing the ocean, I was fearfully sick that night. The next day I was in London.
What was the procedure? I was told by somebody, that wherever I was going I would surelybe held three days in England. I went to the American Consul. I wanted my passport visé for Holland. My reasons? Well, I couldn't say "en route" anymore because they don't approve of people going through Holland to the enemy. Going to Holland, what for? Why, naturally, to see my old friend and professor, Doctor Henry Van Dyke, American Minister there. Of course the doctor didn't know I was coming, and wouldn't have remembered me anyway. But nevertheless I had conceived a sudden and irresistible desire to visit him.
A young fellow by the name of Ripley Wilson, about my own age, was vice-consul. He waited on me, but he did not seem satisfied with my explanations, or my reasons for wanting to go to Holland. He talked and argued and hemmed and hawed, and finally said, "What is your real object in going to Holland, Mr. Benson?" I answered, "I have told you that I am going over to visit my old professor, Doctor Van Dyke." Then he tried to trap me. He said, "Oh, did you go to Harvard?" I said, "No, sir." He said, "Then where did you know him?" I said, "Dr. Van Dyke never taught in Harvard. I knew him at Princeton, naturally, the place where he taught."This kind of floored him, but still he persisted. "But, Mr. Benson, what would anybody say about such a reason as you give, 'going to Holland to visit a friend in war time?'"
I saw the situation. Ripley Wilson just needed a little domineering, and for the first time in my life I was a little saucy to a diplomatic officer. I said, "Mr. Wilson, I have told you what I am going to Holland for, and furthermore what would anybody say about you asking me so many petty questions? Wouldn't they say it was none of your business?" It worked.
In a few minutes I had his signature and stamp on my passport, and we bade each other a good-natured good-bye. Then I had to go to the British foreign office to get their permission to leave, and that was not so easy. The young fellow who first handled the case asked me a lot of similar questions and I answered them in the same way. Then he asked me if I was going to try to go to Belgium when I got to Holland. "Why, I hadn't thought of it," I replied. All the time with a straight face. After a while he went into another room and presently returned and asked me to come back at four o'clock, as I had better have a personal talk with the colonel.
I went up to Trafalgar Square and saw the military demonstrations and then went up the Strand and looked about a bit, and at four o'clock went back to Whitehall. I was ushered into the presence of the colonel. He was in all his glory. Trappings of every kind adorned his person, shoulder straps and all. But surprising as it was to me, he was not at all officious and I had a very pleasant hour with him. At first he was a little curious. He wanted to know my reasons for going to Holland and so forth, but after a little he became very cordial and said, they simply wanted to be careful, as people going to Holland were getting very near the enemy and might tell something even unwittingly which would hurt the cause. He then said he would get me a special permit to go that night on a certain boat on the Zelande Line at eight o'clock. He called Mr. Haldane-Porter on the telephone and told him he was sending me over, and also gave me a letter to him requesting him to give me his special pass. I later figured out that it wasn't any special honor at all that he was favoring me with, but that his words and actions meant I was to go at the hour he said and on the boat he indicated and have every movement I made thoroughly known to Scotland Yard.
Nevertheless I felt fortunate and glad. Then I had to go to the Dutch Consul in London and get his permit to enter his country. He was neutral and didn't give a rap where I went, so I didn't have to spend much time on him, but only ninety cents. My khaki uniform I checked at the North London Railway. I didn't care to have any khaki about me when I went to Germany. They don't like it over there. I stuck the check in a safe hiding place in the back of a book of cigarette papers which a poilu had given me as a souvenir. Then I caught my boat and sailed for Holland. On the boat I noticed a sign saying that no letters were to be carried across, on pain of summary justice. It scared me, as I had several letters that I did not want to part with. Two were addressed to Brand Whitlock, the American Minister in Brussels, and one to a woman who is the mother of one of my ecclesiastical flock in America. Nevertheless, I kept them.
When I got to Holland I went straight to The Hague. The first thing I did was to have two photographs taken, one with my arm band on my sleeve, and the other without it. Doctor Van Dyke I found in his office, and his son also, who remembered me in college. However, the doctorsaid that he had serious doubts whether I could get into Belgium. He recently had received word from Mr. Whitlock to be very careful about letting people come over from Holland, as there was not much for them to do and they often made a lot of trouble.
The Doctor suggested that I write Mr. Whitlock and ask him if he had something for me to do in the relief work. Well, as a matter of fact, I did not want to do this. There were two reasons. One was that I knew it would take a week to get a reply, and I did not want to wait. The other was I was afraid he might say no, thus effectually blocking my plans and hopes. I wanted to get to Belgium above all things. At last, Dr. Van Dyke said he did not feel he should be the one tovisémy passport, but I had better go down and have a talk with Colonel Listoe at Rotterdam. He was the real official who should do it, being the closest to the border, but the Doctor was doubtful if he would do it. I gathered from the conversation that he and the Colonel were very intimate friends. I then went to a hotel,l'Américain, on the Wagonstraat and went to bed to sleep over it. The next morning a happy thought struck me. I said to myself, "I'll try some diplomacy on thesediplomats." Again I went over to Dr. Van Dyke's office, and said, "Doctor, I haven't much identification, and I wonder if you would be willing to give me a note saying that I am the person I purport to be, and an American citizen. He said, "Why certainly," and wrote me such a note on the official stationery. I put the note into my pocket, gleefully. I forgot to tell him that I had come all the way from France and England to have a visit with him, but nevertheless I had had it. I now thanked him and bade him good-bye. I hastened by electric to Rotterdam, and hunted up the American Consulate. I knocked on the door and asked, "Is Colonel Listoe in?" "Yes, the name, please?" "Mr. Benson." A man rose and stepped cordially forward to greet me. I said, "Colonel Listoe, I believe, I just came down from my old friend, Doctor Van Dyke; I was under him at college, and his son was in my class. I have a letter from him here and I am going over to Belgium."
"Oh, oh, Dr. Van Dyke; well, well, to be sure!" He took my passport and had the vice-consulviséit before ever he looked at the note. Then while I was getting out the letter I explained that it was just a formal note of identification; but mypassport was already fixed and everything was fine.
I chatted with him for an hour, smoked one of his fine black cigars and, of course, found him a delightful man. Then I said, "Colonel, is there anything else I need to do before I can go to Belgium?" "Oh, by George!" he said, slapping himself upon the knee, "I almost forgot the most important part. Sure, you must go over to the German Consuls and get their consent, and go before four o'clock." Ah! there was the rub. I knew it. But I went. And I had some whale of a time getting their consent, too. When I went into the room there were six of them sitting behind the table. I went up to the first one and told him I wanted to go to Belgium. I was now in my civilian clothes and I had put the set of photographs with the Red Cross arm band on, in my left pocket and the set without the arm band in my right pocket. The man asked me, "What do you want to go to Belgium for?" I replied: "Relief work." "What kind?" "Red Cross." "Are you a Red Cross man?" "Yes, sir." "Have you a commission?" "N-n-no." "How do you prove you are a Red Cross man?" I began fumbling for my photographs. For the life of me Icouldn't tell which kind were in which pocket. I reached and shuffled, and turned red, and pulled out—the wrong one! Well, it didn't make much difference. I said, "That's just a civilian picture for putting on my passports, but here is my Red Cross picture." Then I pulled the other on him. He seemed satisfied. That Red Cross on the sleeve seemed to do the business. He said "You will offer yourself to the Red Cross in Belgium?" I said, "Yes, sir." When he was about finished, another consul passing by became curious. He said, "What is it this man wants?" And about the time I had satisfied him, still another came. And if you don't think it is some job to convince six Germans to be of the same mind at the same moment, try it sometime. The man finally said, "I shall write it on your passport that you will offer yourself to the Red Cross in Belgium?" I knew that he meant business, and if it was written on there it meant for me to do it, but I was ready to do anything. I wanted to get into Belgium. I had been five days making the trip up to the doors of Belgium, a trip that would take ten hours ordinarily, and I did not want to be balked. I said, "Yes, sir, you may write it on my passport." He did it, too. He then said, "Eight marks!"and I fished out two dollars. That passport is one of my valued souvenirs today. I was now getting poor, as every consul had been bleeding me both to leave and to enter his country. The Americans were the only ones whose stamp was free. My pass was given me to Brussels and the next morning I embarked. When we crossed the border a mile or two in, the train stopped at Esschen. Most of the cars were locked and the passengers, a few at a time, were taken out and searched. I was among them, and it was not a pleasant sensation. But I was in Belgium, had come from the enemy and had literally bluffed my way through.
On my way to Brussels I had to pass through Antwerp. My pass allowed me to go to Brussels—and nowhere else. But as the train stopped at six o'clock in the evening at Antwerp, and I learned that it would be there about three hours, I got off and asked the Germans who guarded the gate if I might stay in Antwerp over night. They told me that I had plenty of time and I might go down to the Kommandantur of the city and make my request. I did so.
"Herr Kommandantur" was a big, bull-necked, red-faced fellow who responded to my request with the grunted word,Warum?When I explained why I wanted to stay he asked me several questions about myself and wrote down the charges against me, and finally said if I would give him a quarter I could stay overnight—no, that was not exactly the way he said it, either. He did not speak English anyway, but after writing down all these answers, he said in a harsh, gutturaltone,Eine Mark!I took the hint, and it didn't take long for me to produce the quarter. He then handed me the paper, which said that I was permitted to leave Antwerp and go to Brussels the following day. That was all I wanted. I wanted to see Antwerp—but I also wanted to go on, when I got ready. I had to have that paper then, permitting me to go on the morrow, or else I'd "find out the meaning of German authority!"
The next morning I took a walk to have a look about. I had already, on the previous day, as I came into Antwerp, witnessed many towns lying in ruins, the remains of which I could see from the car window. But when I went out into the town of Antwerp, I learned just what the German could do in the way of vandalism and ruthlessness. I saw the forts which they had bombarded for three days, on the third day of which they had tossed over those forty-two centimeter shells at the rate of one every five seconds all day and all night. The destruction was terrific. I came back to the center of the city and went into a little café to get some lunch. The woman who kept the place showed me two big pieces of iron and steel, chunks which must have weighed ten to fifteen pounds apiece, which she had found in her bed after thebombardment ceased, and she told me with tears in her eyes that later, after the capture of the town, the German officers outraged her daughter.
Fortunately, the woman had not been sleeping at home at the time, but had been over with her sister, otherwise she would not have shown anybody those iron relics. It was a close shave. This woman was very kind to me, and the only reason I do not mention her name, and many other names of Belgian people, who were courteous and helpful to me, is that some pro-German would very likely report them and have them harassed by the military governors there.
These governors are most thorough in their policy of persecution and inquisition, the same as in their scientific research, and I often hold myself back from telling names of Belgian people who were hospitable to me, for their own safety. When the war is over I shall write them all and try to demonstrate my deep appreciation. They bore up so nobly when their kinfolk were killed, their homes destroyed, and their country devastated. As soon as I got to Brussels I called on the American minister.
A diplomatic officer is a peculiar individual. I wish I were one—sometimes. I wouldn't have liked to be Brand Whitlock, however, when this war broke out. He had been living a quiet, peaceful existence in that wonderful city of Brussels, no doubt having a good time in general, when suddenly and without warning the country was invaded by hordes of hostile Germans, who bombarded the cities, burned the hamlets, and slaughtered the people in large numbers, driving others by thousands from their homes and out of their country. Then the conqueror began oppressing the captive people, and Brand Whitlock had to act as intermediary. Besides this, he had to defend himself from those other hordes from the outside; I mean the Americans who bombarded him with offers to come over and help care for the poor, starving Belgians. I was one of them. Their motives were excellent, but their judgment was questionable, and it never seemedto enter their heads that if thousands of them went over to care for the starving Belgians, it would take a large amount of food to keep them, before ever the Belgians got any. Furthermore, the Germans did not like Americans in the country, seeing what they had done to Belgium. It wasn't pleasant to have them around. They arrested them and harassed them and caused a lot of trouble. No wonder Mr. Whitlock wrote to Dr. Van Dyke asking him to be very careful about sending Americans over. But I am a persistent person.
When I got to Brussels I went to call on this same minister. I did possess two personal letters addressed to him from American Congressmen who were good friends of Mr. Whitlock. And I felt it would be a shame not to deliver them.
But the young lady who received the visitors asked me what I wanted to see him about. I replied, "On business." She said, "He is very busy." I asked, "Is he too busy to attend to business?" "Well," she answered, "I don't believe he could see you."
I responded, "Say, my young lady, I am an American citizen, a stranger in a strange land. I am among a people who are not particularlyfriendly, as I have already learned. They are the bosses over here. I am expecting to be about in this country somewhat, and I feel I have a right to be known by the American Minister. If anything happens to me, I want him to be able to identify me. Our diplomatic officers are sent here by the United States, paid by the people, to look after our interests, and our traveling citizens, and then when we come here the secretary says he cannot see us. Why is it?"
This evidently made some impression, for she said finally, "Well, if you will come back in the afternoon, I suppose you can see him."
I went away then, saying, "I certainly expect to see him." In the afternoon I did. I found Mr. Whitlock the most genial man in the world. He had plenty of time to be civil and obliging and to chat a while, although I did not abuse the privilege. I told him I wanted him to know me, and I delivered the letters. As I left he stamped my passport and said, "Come in again when you can, Mr. Benson." I had occasion to do so—before long.
On leaving Mr. Whitlock I went down town and engaged a room at a little private hotel for the duration of my stay in Brussels. One day shortly afterwards, while I was sitting in a café of the little hotel, a neighbor of the proprietor came in and I was introduced to him. He was a very likable fellow, and we had a half hour's pleasant chat, at least it was pleasant for me. I am not so sure it was as pleasant for him, for I was certainly an artist at butchering up the King's French.
As he arose to go out he bid meau revoirand stopped for a moment to speak confidentially to the madame who ran the place. After he had departed she told me that the man was a regular customer of theirs who lived down the street, and that he was a printer by trade. His particular line of printing was that of map making, and he had told the landlady that he would like to make me a present of some nice maps of Belgium if Iwould accept them. He wanted to show his appreciation for the assistance of America. I said, "That would be very fine and I would certainly be glad to have them, both for their instructive value as well as a memento of the giver."
Accordingly, the next day the man came over with his maps in his hand and gave them to me. They were not large and could be conveniently folded and put into the pocket, but they were unusually complete and really very excellent guides to the country. I took them and thanked him, looking them over admiringly and putting them into my inside pocket.
Thereafter when I talked with the Belgian people about the geography of the country, I frequently consulted my map in order to fasten in mind the location of the different towns. My own study of geography in my earlier days had been sadly neglected or forgotten, so I found these very useful gifts. It was quite natural that people, in talking with me about the brutality of the Germans, should mention towns where the most glaring atrocities had been perpetrated. I had also read the Bryce report and the names of certain towns stood out distinctly in my memory. These places I marked with a cross on the map,so as to be sure to visit them, and later, when I visited other destroyed villages or cities, I marked them also, so that later in life I might glance over the maps and easily recall the experiences in each of the places. I thought I had a very nice memento which would always call up vivid recollections. Certain places had been already specially marked in the making of the map by having circles of stars around the town which I did not exactly understand, but supposing they were important cities or capitals of provinces, I was particular to put a cross there as a place which I ought to visit, which I did in most cases. In, fact, before I had completed my tour of the country I had the maps pretty well crossed up, especially in the more important centers throughout the ruined districts.
One striking thing in scanning the maps was that I had not marked a single place which was not in the devastated area, plainly indicating that I had made a careful point of traveling only through the parts which the Germans had destroyed and going only to the worst desolated places at that. In other words, by a glance at my map you could follow my itinerary practically as easily as you can follow a rabbit in the snow by his tracks.
Many a time I contemplated looking back with pleasure and explaining to my American friends in years to come and to my grandchildren, when my hair should be gray, how I had bluffed my way through the German lines and observed the country and the German rule while he was still in possession. It would be a thing of which few men could boast, since it was against the military policy of every country to allow anybody to come from the enemy and go through their land and then go back to the enemy again. That was unheard of. Yet inwardly it was my intention, and, in fact, I had no other idea than that I should accomplish it successfully. Consequently I wrote down nothing. I mean I kept no diary on paper and I wrote no letters. I had many friends in France who would have liked to have a word from me, and also my folks in America expected me to write them letters for news and for souvenirs, but I was afraid to attempt to send any word to them, even indirectly through Holland, as I feared the Germans would open all mail, and finding me in touch with France, would decide that I intended returning there and then would see to it that I did not. Everything that I saw and heard in Belgium, all the information I received, wasin my head and not on paper, as I felt that would save me much trouble; so I merely marked the maps with little crosses.
At length I went to the German Pass office in Brussels. It was called the "Pass-Zentrale," up in the Rue Royale, only a block from the King's palace. I there applied for a pass to Liége. I was told by the sentry to come back in the afternoon, at three o'clock. The office is only open from nine till twelve and from three to six. I went back at three. A young "smart aleck" of the name of Klenkum took my American passport from me and told me to come back the next morning between ten and eleven, giving me, as he spoke, a slip of paper which read,Zwischen zehn und elf. I went back next day and handed Klenkum the slip of paper, which he saucily laid on the other side of the desk and wrote another, telling me to come back in two days, or Sunday between ten and eleven. I was angry. He saw it, and said, "Prisoner, eh?" I did not answer. And so as I opened the door he rubbed it in, saying,Sehr gut, eh?With a sickly smile on my face, Ireplied, "Yes, very good," and went out. But I was simply boiling. I went to the office of Von Bissing and had quite a talk with him, but nothing came of it. I then went up to Mr. Whitlock and told him what they were doing with me. I said the Germans were keeping my American passport, which was a breach of international law, and playing a kind of "cat and mouse" game with me. Immediately he wrote a letter curtly demanding my passport and ordering them to give me a pass where I wanted to go. I took this letter up and delivered it at headquarters. Well, they ignored the letter entirely, and the pass was given me at the last moment Klenkum had indicated, namely, eleven o'clock on Sunday. But Klenkum was not the particular man who handed it to me. He sent me into another room to a higher officer. My pass was handed me by an important personage.
I was then given some instructions by no less a person than Von Bissing himself. But I had kept the road hot in front of the King's palace, between Mr. Whitlock's office, corner Rue de Trèves and Rue Belliard, and the GermanPass-Zentralein the Rue Royale. This heckling, harassing policy of duplicity was the one which theGerman Government constantly employed, and when one reflects a moment and makes comparisons, he finds that it is the same policy which they have used in their diplomatic notes and business with the United States ever since the war began. It is almost impossible to pin them down to anything, and have any guarantee that they will keep their word.
As Viellaur, the officer in charge, finally handed me the passports, I jokingly said to him, "There's a good deal of red tape about getting a pass from the German Government, isn't there?"
"Well," he said, "of course we think you people are friendly to us, otherwise you wouldn't be able to get a pass at all. We conclude," he continued, "that you are friends, from what we see in the newspapers." I replied, "Well, that's about all a person has to go by, just what he sees in the newspapers." I left him to draw his own conclusions, while I caught the train.
At Liége I felt the German espionage system. This city became world famous in a week's time when the Hun was pounding at the gates. It was the first the world knew of the war. The place was fearfully "strafed." It was Sunday afternoon when I arrived. Before I could get off the train, or rather out of the depot, I had to let the German soldiers search me, and they went through my clothes with a marvelous thoroughness. When I went to a hotel and was eating my supper I found there two Germans in the dining room, one of whom was a soldier and one a railroad conductor, talking together. I will not mention the name of the conductor because if this was reported of him it might mean his execution. After a few minutes the soldier went away.
I went on with my supper but before I had finished a violent pounding sounded on the door. The proprietor, a Belgian, started to answer it, while his wife peeped out and saw that two burlyGerman officers were there. She became excited and rushed back, seized my grip, turned out the light in the dining room, and bundled me off upstairs with my heart pounding like a steam engine.
I did not know what was up.
Now, either the German Secret Service had shadowed me all the way from Brussels, or perhaps every step of the way since I entered the country, or else that soldier had gone out and reported me. Those officers demanded of the proprietor if there was an American in his house and if so what he was doing there. I don't know what answer he gave them, but after a while they went away.
I then had the most enlightening and frank talk with that civilian German conductor that I have ever had with a German since this war began. The Belgian hotel proprietor had known him for several months as a guest, and told me that I could trust the man.
In the conversation the German said, "War is a terrible thing. It is no good for common men like me."
"Why not?" I asked him.
"Why," said he, "I have a wife and two children at home, and if I go out and get killed what becomes of them?"
I said, "Won't the Kaiser take care of them?"
"Humph," he grunted,Der Kaiser!And he put his fingers in his ears to indicate that the Kaiser would be deaf to their appeals. He continued,Der Krieg ist gut für die oberen Zehn-Tausend, ja, ja! aber es ist nicht gut für diejenigen welche kämpfen. "War is good for the upper ten thousand, yes, yes! but it is no good for the ones who do the fighting." I said, "You wouldn't dare to say these things when that soldier was here, or in front of military men, would you?"
Nein, natürlich nicht. Aber sie sind ein guter Kamerad."No, naturally not. But you are a good comrade."
This little talk in which he said that kings and kaisers all ought to be dethroned, gave me an idea that there must be multitudes of men who feel the same, but because their souls are not their own, dare not give voice to it. I told the man that Americans could not understand how the Germans could enter the country and do the frightful things that they have done to the unoffending Belgians. I said we had thousands of kind and peaceable Germans in America, and many of them were among our best citizens. "Ah," said he, "it is the discipline. These German soldiers were oncepeaceable and kind citizens also, having families like myself, but the discipline of the army has made them warlike and unmerciful. After one year in the Kaiser's army they still have some heart left, after two years less, after three or four years of that discipline they have no heart at all."
Another German, a soldier, then came in and my German friend shut up like a clam. So did I.
I went out next morning and saw the ashes and ruins into which the Germans had plunged the city and I had a talk with one Belgian man who had been made an atheist by the crushing experience. As I spoke with him, hearing his terrible tale, and seeing from his shop window dozens of homes which were burned down, and beautiful buildings deliberately desecrated, my faith in God did not diminish, but my confidence in my own former pacifism did, and I felt a growing faith in militancy when dealing with the German who respects nothing on earth but force. I was day by day realizing that he must be dealt with on his own grounds and with his own weapons. It was hard for me to come to this position but the cold and cruel facts were forcing it upon me.
When Viellaur had given me my passport to Liége he had told me orally to come back by the same route I went. But it did not say so in the paper itself, and I ignored his instructions. I took an extended trip south in Belgium and I learned on this instructive but sad journey, just how the Germans hound the Belgian people and make life miserable for them. If the Belgians show any resentment whatever, they are arrested as seditious persons and usually deported to Germany to work in the fields or ammunition factories. I saw many instances where German officers or soldiers entered the homes of people and commanded the owners to stand back while they searched the place, and if mayhap, they found a letter from some friend in the house which had any complaints or any sentiment against the German invasion, the people were arrested and their existence made even more unhappy.
On this tour I also experienced something of thehard conditions from scarcity of food, and in the home of Madame Beauvoit, in southern Belgium, the mother of one of my parishioners in the States, I ate black bread the like of which I have never eaten before. I delivered a note to her from her daughter and stayed at her house overnight, but I could stay no longer as I was conscious that I was eating up her living. She told me at supper that they were only allowed ten ounces per day of that bread, bad as it was. I could hardly push the next swallow down my throat, for I was eating the life of that woman. I also observed the marvelous working of Mr. Hoover's food commission under the management of Mr. Whitlock and Hugh Gibson, and it was a wonderful organization and certainly an inspiring sight.
But during those days I looked upon scenes and witnessed spectacles which break the heart, and I had opportunities of talking with Belgian people in their homes, where I stayed for meals, or in which I slept, and they told me heart-rending tales of the experiences they had gone through.
For hours sometimes I would talk with them, and the information which I thus obtained was most enlightening. They often handed me their cards also, sometimes requesting me to learn ifpossible the whereabouts of their relatives, for thousands of them had fled, and been scattered afar. This journey gave me an insight into the motives of the German military men. One day I stopped at the little town of Dinant. There I saw a place of devastation so complete that even the ruins of volcano-destroyed Pompeii, could not compare with it. An aged man who was walking by, stopped and began to talk to me. I felt so sad on seeing the awful picture that I could hardly talk. In fact, as I stepped off the train I had burst into sobs. My ears, however, were alert and I greedily drank in his awful tale. The man pointed out a wall of solid rock which, was riddled with bullet holes. I stuck my finger into one of these holes and worked out a piece of stone, covered with blood from some poor man's heart. I still have it. He explained that more than one hundred innocent Belgians had been lined up against that wall and shot to death for no offense whatever. He also said that in some places where the Belgian people resented the invasion of their homes they were dragged out and lined up, and every third man was shot down to set an example to the people. The captain would count, "One—two—three!" and the firing squad would shoot a man.Then again "One—two—three, shoot!" "One—two—three, shoot!"
Out on the public square of Dinant, more than four hundred of the civilians of the town were herded together, having been dragged from their homes or seized upon the streets. They were huddled in that square and ropes were stretched around the company. Then the German machine gun captain standing a score of yards away, on the word of command, opened up that death-dealing device which shoots more than eight hundred times a minute, and mowed down that crowd of people on the public square as though it had been cattle in a slaughter house. Nor did the German Government itself deny these things. In fact it admitted innocent slaughter, in some cases. But it sought to justify it as a means to its military goal. The GermanWhite Bookitself speaks of the measures taken at Dinant. It says that the German soldiers were repairing a bridge which the Belgians had destroyed to prevent the Germans from coming into their town. But the enemy finally took the place and as they worked on the bridge (so the German version reads) some Belgians fired upon them from the roofs of the houses in the vicinity. Whereupon the soldiers caught all the Belgianpeople they could find upon the street, lined them up against the wall, and announced that if there was any further firing, these people would all be killed. The report says, "Still the firing continued, and then we shot the innocent people. We had to do it, otherwise our words would have been but an idle threat. We were compelled to do these things in order to accomplish our military goal, which must be achieved at all costs."
And with this ideal in view, they raged through the land leaving it little more than a pile of blackened brick and ashes soaked in blood. I went to Louvain, to Mons, and Charleroi, to Namur and Haecht and Aerschot in like manner, and in these places also I saw and heard such heart-breaking things. These acts were the result of the policy of "frightfulness" which the Germans had been taught thoroughly. After sufficient experience with this sort of thing and being sickened with it all, I finally turned my face back toward the north.
Of course I did not know what was ahead of me, but I knew from the experiences which were back of me how I felt toward the Germans. I had gotten so that every time a German soldier passed me on the street with his arrogant and hardened attitude, I muttered the words, "The scourge," under my breath. I had seen the invariable results of hisKulturand they had in every case been sordid and degrading. Henceforth I could not look upon him with anything else than contempt and hatred. The vandalism which I had seen and the terrible crimes that I had learned of, aroused in me something that I had not realized before. An anger such as seldom comes to men and such as I had not suspected my pacifist nature capable of, now seized hold of me. I vowed in my secret self that if I ever got out alive I would throw the weight of my small influence against that inhuman machine.
The Good Book speaks of a "righteous indignation," and if ever there was such a thing in the heart of a human I believe it had possession of me then. Nor was it a momentary impulse. I had grimly and deliberately gone from place to place, day after day, for the purpose of collecting unbiased facts and impressions and these latter had taken their own course in my heart and brain. Of course I wrote nothing down. I made no attempt to get a single letter out of Belgium during all the time that I was there. I was afraid that it would get me into trouble when I came to leave. I kept no diary whatever. I needed none. All the things which I have related have been from memory, but these facts were so vividly burned into my soul that they will never be forgotten unless my faculty of memory be permanently destroyed. I did not write down the impressions which came to me, or the process of conversion which was constantly taking place within my being. I dared not commit these things to paper. I realized that I was in the hands of a powerful and terrible people who would show no mercy upon one who was not in sympathy with its aims and methods. Nevertheless, I swore that if I ever got free from them I would tell the world thefacts and do everything within my power to thwart them and their purposes.
Before I had left the States I had not only been a pacifist, but I had been neutral as well. Any person in my former congregation could testify that I never spoke one word from the platform against the Germans, but now I have no hesitation in condemning them with vehemence and opposing them with violence. It might seem to some as though this was a strange attitude for a minister of Christ to take, but I was led on as inevitably to this position as the compass needle seeks the pole. I had no choice. I could not help myself, but today I am proud to state that I accepted this conclusion and that deliberately and boldly I will defend it.
In a Utopian world one can act in a Utopian manner. And a Utopian world is a beautiful theory. But it is a theory and a dream. You and I today are living in a world of stern, cruel fact; in this world of fact we find the stern, cruel German. We find him here in possession of a land which he has stolen by stern, cruel, and murderous methods. He intends to keep that land, perpetuate those methods, and steal more land by identical methods. These are the methods he knows andemploys. These are the only methods he respects or that make any impression on him whatever. Then we must use stern methods against him in order to overcome and thwart him and restore the world to normal methods and life. Otherwise he will encroach and impose his system upon the whole world and his method will be the permanent and the universal fate.