Prisoner in the Soltau Camp From the Account Given by Amand Hasevoets, First Sergeant of the Regiment of Fortress Grenadiers
I belonged to a Company of the Fortress Grenadiers' Regiment. We occupied the interval between the Kessel and Broechem Forts when, on the 4th of October, 1914, the bombardment commenced. The Germans began with shrapnels for regulating their firing, and then, at intervals from five to ten minutes, they sent their shells on to Broechem. According to whether the projectile fell into the sand, into the moat, or on to the cement, a yellow, black, or white sheaf rose ten yards high in the air.
Towards evening, we received orders to protect a column of soldiers belonging to the Engineers, whose mission was to destroy the bridges over the Nèthe. Hidden in the fields, we saw figures gliding along by the river. In the darkness of the night, there were five immense glows and five detonations. The bridges had been blown up at Broechem, the cannonading slackened, and flames surrounded the Fort.
We fell back on the second line of defence. We passed through Wyneghem, Burght, and Zwyndrecht, where the regiment rejoined us. The soldiers who[Pg 198] had marched about thirty-seven miles, and for weeks had had no other beds than the trenches, were worn out. They had scarcely piled arms when most of them were stretched out on the pavement. The inhabitants, from the thresholds of their houses, looked at the Grenadiers with curiosity mingled with fear. What had these troops come to do here? The sight of a few coins reassured them, and very soon a carefully prepared little meal was ready in every house. The following day, we continued our retreat by the St. Nicholas road. The cannon was roaring and the ground trembling under a rain of shells, which interrupted our march and obliged us to await the end of the storm lying down among the beet-root, or turnip plants.
At Beveren-Waes, the Colonel called the officers together and talked to them for a long time. They came back to us gloomy and discouraged.
"We are surrounded," they said, "by an enemy of overpoweringly superior numbers. All resistance would be useless. Our last and only resource is to get to Holland."
Desperate, and with tears in their eyes, the soldiers talked in low voices to each other, giving utterance to their opinions.
"Fancy being shut up there without having fought, without having seen the enemy! How humiliating!"
The regiment, however, was soon on the way towards Clinge and, in the midst of a heavy fog, made a passage along the road which was encumbered with carts and vehicles of every kind, in the midst of a distracted population in flight. The soldiers thought sadly of their departure from Brussels two months ago, of the enthusiasm, the pride and confidence[Pg 199] which they had felt, as they set out, on a bright sunny day, singing as they went along the Wavre road, amid the cheers and applause of the crowd.
On approaching the frontier, the men threw down their guns, cartridge cases, and bags. For several miles the ground was strewn with articles of equipment. This sight roused my indignation.
"No," I exclaimed, "whatever happens, I am not going to Holland!" I picked up some cartridges and stuffed all my pockets with them, and whilst my comrades crossed the frontier, I went with big strides towards the Lokeren road.
I have no idea how long a time I walked, for I was like a madman. At every instant, patrols appeared on whom I fired. Auto-machine-guns passed along at full speed and, hidden in a ditch, scarcely daring to breathe, I waited until these terrible engines of warfare had disappeared. By incredible luck, escaping all kinds of danger, I reached the suburbs of Lokeren. Peasants were working peacefully in the fields. I approached them and asked whether there were any Prussians in the town.
"More than 100,000," was the reply.
"Where can I find some civilian's clothes?" I asked.
"Over yonder, in that farm. They will probably give you some."
I entered the farm and, after a little discussion, I obtained some clothes for fifteen francs, which I at once put on. After burying my gun and my uniform, emboldened by my disguise, I advanced fearlessly along the Lokeren road.
"Who goes there?" I heard someone call out.
"An inhabitant of Lokeren," I answered.
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"Hands up!"
I obeyed.
"Advance!"
I obeyed again. I had happened upon a Bavarian patrol hidden behind the trees on the road. I was questioned briefly and then taken to join a hundred and fifty civilians in hiding along the hedge. After waiting for an hour, as the mouse-trap did not catch any fresh victim, the commanding officer, a Lieutenant, addressed us.
"As you are peaceable citizens, I am going to have you taken back to the town."
We set out escorted by Bavarian soldiers. Near the bridge over the Durme, a Lieutenant, stationed in front of a manufactory, was awaiting us.
"Come in here!" he said. We entered and, inside the courtyard, we saw piles of uniforms belonging to the Belgian Engineers. We were ordered to put them on. I went to the officer and protested. "I am not a soldier and I am not going to act this comedy," I said. By way of answering, the Lieutenant seized my hands. With a pen-knife he took some of the dirt from my nails and smelt it. He then took a little bottle, poured some liquid over this dirt, and smelt it again. After this, he gave me a blow with his fist.
"Your hands are not the hands of a labourer, but of a soldier," he yelled. "Obey, or you will be shot."
Under the surveillance of two soldiers, who carefully inspected my under linen, I put on the uniform and took my place among the Belgian soldiers they had thus improvised. Grouped in a column, we were triumphantly promenaded through the Lokeren streets, and insults and jokes were lavished on us by the German soldiery. The parade ended, after a[Pg 201] mock interrogation, we were taken to a place without any egress and obliged to bury a lot of dead horses already in a state of decomposition.
Whilst doing this, I took note of my surroundings and I saw, on the right, the entrance to a dark passage. Taking advantage of a moment of inattention, I slipped into this. It was an ice-house. It was intensely dark, but I groped along and crouched down behind some blocks of ice, where I spent several hours shivering with cold. I could hear the expressions of disgust uttered by my companions during their repulsive task.
When this was accomplished, a sub-officer took it into his head to count the men.
"There is one missing," he remarked.
One of us, a wretched spy, denounced me.
"He is in the ice-house," he said.
The Germans entered, discovered me, and literally kicked me out. No one can imagine my state of fury and rage. If only any of these wretches ever fall into my hands, they will have no time to feel bored, for I am reserving for them a little fête of my own invention. On Tuesday, eight hundred English soldiers and three hundred Belgian soldiers were added to our number. They were real soldiers this time. As some of the Belgian ones were in civilian dress, I made an arrangement with one of them to change my uniform for his clothes. It would be more easy in this way to play my part as a citizen.
The following day, escorted by Bavarians, we set out on foot and were taken to Termonde, a march of about twelve miles. The walk was very painful, as our only food was the turnips that the soldiers gathered in the fields and threw to us.
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Termonde was frightful to behold. In the midst of the houses which had been burned down were drunken sailors, holding bottles of wine under their arms, while they pillaged, saccaged, and turned out everything. In one of the streets, the Burgomaster of Waesmunster stopped us and, thanks to his protestations, obtained the liberation of the inhabitants of his commune. I saw an officer dressed as a Belgian and asked him to intervene in my favour, pleading that I was a civilian. The Belgian officer immediately spoke to the Commander of the convoy, who replied in excellent French:
"We have received orders to arrest the civilians in the districts where our troops have been fired on. If I gave this man his liberty, he would be arrested again before he had gone five hundred yards. Come and speak to me at Schaerbeck and I will see." At 7 o'clock in the evening, we were taken to the station, counted, given a plate of soup, and then huddled into cattle trucks, upon which was a thick layer of manure. In each truck were thirty-six Belgians and four Bavarian soldiers. We then started in a broken-winded train! It advanced slowly, puffing, whistling, and stopping every minute. Very soon our keepers began to talk to us. They showed us their blue and white cockades proudly.
"Queen Elisabeth is Bavarian, too," they said. "She is a noble woman and will be an example for the Belgians. We admire her and respect h............