CHAPTER XIII ROUND ABOUT BILSEN
 
Although at first I had a different plan, I decided on Saturday, September 26th, to go first to Riempst—a little walk of three hours each way—as I had read a report in certain papers quoted from the Handelsblad van Antwerpen that the church of Riempst had been burned and the vicars of that parish and of Sichem had been made prisoners.
Arrived at Riempst I found the pretty village church in its full glory and the vicar engaged in performing his religious functions; the vicar of Sichem was also still at home. The only part of the report that was true was that various burgomasters from the environs had been sent to Tongres and had not returned since. The burgomaster of Riempst, with whom I had been imprisoned already once, was being searched for by the Germans everywhere, but could not be found. In several places I heard also that the Belgians were lying in the woods round about, and that something was being prepared at Riempst; but no one knew what. So I decided to go and inquire.
The road was quite deserted, for the people, who live in great fear, do not venture out.
As far as Bilsen everything seemed equally deserted,176 but quite near the town a couple of German soldiers suddenly came to me from behind a house, and ordered me to stop. They took me with them to the guard, which was established in the aforementioned house.
There it appeared that my papers were in good order, but at the same time I was informed that I was to be taken to the commanding officer at the station and could not be allowed to leave Bilsen for the present. I was escorted through the townlet, which appeared to be entirely deserted; but now and then somebody came to his front-door to watch the latest victim of the Germans being led past. At the station I was pushed without much courtesy into a keep where six other civilians sat, who had been picked up as being at large, and whose faces were now covered with a cold perspiration from fear, because they were firmly convinced that by and by they would be shot.
Three soldiers stood before the open door and amused themselves by provoking these people in the most inhuman manner, by abusing them and telling them that later on they would be hanged or shot. The poor fellows shivered and their teeth clattered. I, the newly arrived "swine," was treated in much the same way, but I reduced the insolent blusterers into the quietest people of the world by warning them that by and by I would ask the commanding officer whether his soldiers had the right to call a Netherlander a "swine." That put some heart into my fellow-victims, and I urged them that they would do best by replying calmly to any questions which the commanding officer might put177 to them. They actually became more composed, and told me the following:
The Germans had evacuated Bilsen some days ago, probably after being informed that a strong force of Belgians was coming on. As a matter of fact, only eleven Belgian soldiers had entered the townlet. These had pulled down the German flag from the town-hall and replaced it by the Belgian. The station and the railway were then closed to the public for a couple of hours, and in that time they pulled up the rails in two places. On Friday evening the Germans returned in great numbers by train from Tongres, and the train derailed on one of those places; but no lives were lost, as it went very slowly.
The Germans had then taken it into their heads that the Belgians occupied Bilsen and the station, and began a terrific fire at the station and the surrounding houses, although there was not a single Belgian soldier in the whole town. When they had satisfied themselves that this was the case, they stopped firing, and were furious on account of the derailing and the mistake they had made. They then started a wild hunt for the men, and set about ten houses on fire, as also the signalman's cottage, because he had not warned them of the danger by waving his red flag.
They made no allowance for the fact that they themselves had relieved all railway officials of their functions until later notification. The signalman was made a prisoner, but released subsequently.
As soon as they began to chase the men, the greater part of the inhabitants fled in dire fear, most of178 them towards the Campine. In the fields and the shrubberies the Germans must have killed a good many of the male fugitives, and made the others prisoners. Among the latter were my six fellow-victims.
That same Friday evening the women and children living in the Rue de la Station were told to leave their houses as the whole street was to be burned down. Everybody fled, but the design was not executed. The burgomaster and his son were taken prisoners, and brought to Tongres; later on the son was released; the Very Reverend the Dean was also arrested.
The latter himself told me that he was released in order to instruct the vicars in the eighteen parishes of his deanery that they should inform their parishioners that the whole village would be burned and the inhabitants killed if the railway-line should be broken up, no matter whether it were done by Belgian soldiers or others.
After I had been incarcerated for about two hours I was taken to the commanding officer, Major Krittel, or rather to one of his subordinates, Captain Spuer, who was having a violent altercation with his chief. The captain appeared to insist with great force that the whole place should be burned down and all the prisoners shot. But the major seemed to be a tolerably reasonable man, tried to soothe the captain, and at last put down his foot, saying that he had had enough. The captain, a rude, fat fellow, sat down at a desk and bellowed at me:
"Here, swine!"
179
I did not budge.
"Here, swine!"
"I am a Netherlander."
"Netherlander? Doesn't matter. Have you got papers? All right. You shan't have those back."
"Then I'll lodge a complaint with the Imperial Governor of Liège, who gave me the papers."
"Swine!"
Now the major jumped up and shouted at his subordinate that he had to treat a Netherlander as he ought to be treated.
The major, sitting at another desk, took my further examination upon himself, apologising for the "noisy" conduct of his subordinate, who had got somewhat over-excited in consequence of the circumstances. He found my papers in perfect order, and told me in civil tones that I should get back my liberty which I had lost in consequence of a misunderstanding, but that for the present I was not allowed to leave Bilsen, as I should run the greatest risk of being shot by German or Belgian patrols, who were hidden along the road. He asked me to call again the next morning.
I availed myself of his benevolent mood and told him that my fellow-prisoners were treated very unkindly by his soldiers, and these people had lost their composure entirely in consequence. A calm examination, I told him, undoubtedly would give him also the conviction that these people had only fled into the fields because they were afraid, but not with any criminal intent. He promised me to conduct the examination himself, and to be as180 kind as possible. The next morning I heard that they had all been released.
I now tried to get something to eat in the town at an hotel.
"Well, what have you got for me to eat?"
"To eat, sir—to eat? A bit of bacon ... that's all."
"Well, that's all right; and what am I going to have with it, bread, potatoes, or...."
"Bread, potatoes? Nothing. We have nothing."
I went to various other places, but there I could not even get a bit of bacon. So I made up my mind to starve for the present, and to make inquiries here and there about families whose acquaintances or friends had asked me to do so through the editor of De Tijd.
Afterwards I sauntered through the very quiet little town, until I suddenly saw something quite uncommon, namely two civilians who, like myself, were walking about. When I came near, one of them recited a rhyme:
"Ah, there comes Mister Tijd, and he
Lost like ourselves his liberty!"
I had not the faintest idea who they were, but then they introduced themselves as van Wersch and Dasoul, both living at the time at Hasselt. The first had been at Maastricht a couple of days ago and had seen me there. He told me that that morning he had been "hooked" and his companion only the evening before. He had come to Bilsen on a bicycle, and got such a blow on his back from181 the butt of a German rifle that the butt was cracked in two although his back was not injured.
He had been uneasy because he experienced no disagreeable consequences of that blow, and had therefore consulted the doctor at Bilsen, who thought that only his excited nerves had enabled him to withstand such a blow. Both had been locked up a couple of hours and their bicycles had been taken away, as also their papers. Mr. van Wersch, however, had an acquaintance at Bilsen with whom he and his companion found lodgings, and whither he was good enough to take me as well.
After a bed had been promised me, my first request was for something to eat, for I had not enjoyed anything as yet. But there was nothing left, absolutely nothing. I scratched my head, and rubbed my empty stomach, when suddenly I heard a fowl cackling outside. Negotiations about it were soon finished; my companion was to kill the fowl, whereas I was to call on Major Krittel and tell him that I liked my enforced stay in Bilsen very much, but that he ought to see now that I got something to eat.
I returned with two large round "brown Georges"—soldiers' loaves.
Never did I enjoy a meal so much; but not so the kind people who had received us so friendly; they could not eat. The terror which reigned among the population in those days was indescribable. One must have seen it and gone through it with them, to realise it. They really feared that at any moment the Germans would drive the population out of the houses and set the town on fire.
182
Men and women in the prime of life sat on their chairs, gazing vacantly at nothing, lacking in the most literal sense of the word the strength to stand or to walk. When at about six o'clock in the evening the click-clack of rifle-fire was heard—for a Belgian patrol seemed to have come near the town,—my hostess and her daughter pressed a couple of papers against their breast, full of fear, ready to fly, but unable to walk.
That same afternoon also I made the acquaintance of the editor of a local weekly, De Bilsenaar, which was not allowed to appear during the occupation of the place by the Germans. He and others had a great many things to tell me.
Not half of the requisitioned meat was used by the Germans, and the rest was simply left to rot, whilst the starving people were not allowed to touch it. Two pigs and a cow were shot in a meadow, but no part of these animals had been used, the order to bury them being given when the smell became unendurable. In some places the Germans indulged in such unspeakably filthy acts, that it is impossible to mention details.
When the Germans entered Bilsen for the first time, four persons were shot in front of the town-hall; fifteen holes were still to be seen in the wall. Amongst these four was also the brother-in-law of the editor of the Bilsenaar. He was dragged out of his house, accused of having shot, although he and his wife and children were at that moment saying the rosary. His wife had got up that day for the first time after her confinement.
The unhappy man asserted in a loud voice that183 he was innocent, but got the answer that he would have to prove that later on. But he never had a chance of doing that. Arriving at the market-place, he and three others were simply placed against the wall and shot. He could not even have spiritual assistance.
Frequently Protestant services were held in the market-place, conducted by a parson, and the invariable beginning and end of that parson's allocution was: "There is one God; there must also be one Kaiser."
A good many lads had been able to escape from Bilsen and the environs to Antwerp; in the aggregate, 500 from this district, and more went every day. They were driven to the Belgian army by all they had seen and experienced. Often one heard women and girls say: "Oh, if I were a man, if I were a boy, I should be in the army to-morrow!"
I was sitting comfortably in the home circle of the editor of De Bilsenaar, with father, mother, and daughter. They had one son of eighteen, who was at the Junior Seminary at Hasselt, and only the first Sunday in August he had left for Heerenth in order to offer himself as a missionary aspirant. The next Wednesday the would-be missionary, an only son, enlisted as a volunteer in the Belgian army.... He was already the sixteenth of his form of twenty-three boys at the college at Hasselt.
The father got up and went to a small cupboard from which he took some papers, and his eyes, and those of his wife and daughter, became moist at once; letters from their only boy, written on the184 battle-field! He read them out with a broken voice, frequently interrupted by sobs. I said nothing, could not utter a word.
The boy also had been obliged to retire into France, had been transported from Rheims to Havre, and from there, across the sea, back to Belgium. "Five times already, my dear parents, I have been in the fight; I have asked them not to let me wait long for the sixth. Oh, you cannot imagine how glorious it is to be allowed to fight for my country! Have confidence in the future, dear parents, and say a paternoster for me and my comrades and also one for our Fatherland."
Well, I could not keep calm when I heard such things read by a father from a letter of his only son on the battle-field; that is impossible.
The next morning was Sunday, and the bells summoned the people to church. But nobody went, nobody dared to appear in the street, although prayer-book and rosary are always in everybody's hands during these days. I had decided to go to the second Mass, but as nobody had come to the first, there was no second. The Dean himself............