My Three Years in a German Prison

When the Belgian military resistance ended–that is, during the night of the 8th to the 9th of October–the Germans, as I have already stated, continued to bombard the city, but in the morning at 7 o’clock the artillery’s action ceased. Two hours later the order was given to a regiment to pass inside the walls of the city. The Germans thought they would have to fight foot by foot within the walls. For some reason, the opinion prevailed that the whole Belgian army–between 90,000 and 150,000 in number–had concentrated for a last stand within the walls of the city itself.

The Germans, who, according to the information given to me by the officer I have mentioned, had only 55,000 men, actually feared to meet the Belgian army in close battle. But the order was given to enter, and regiment after regiment, with fixed bayonet, marched into the city, alert but quietly, as though in constant dread of being surrounded.

The city was virtually empty. No civilians or military were to be found. The German troops were ordered to halt in front of the Athenée, and a group of officers were directed towards the Belgian army headquarters, in order to obtain information. They were met by one lone janitor, who heroically refused to state where the Belgian army had gone.

The deputation of officers next crossed to the City Hall, where the principal municipal officials awaited them. Here also information as to the direction the Belgian army had taken was refused.

A demand was then made by the German officers for the surrender of the city, but the municipal authorities replied: “As the city is under the command of the military authorities, we have not the necessary authority to surrender it.”

And that is why on the following day a German officer staying at Capellen told us that the situation at Antwerp was rather precarious. While the Germans occupied the ground, the city had not surrendered!

Antwerp had only fallen. The Belgian army had withdrawn towards Ostend. It had traversed the coast road to Nieuport, where the troops took up their position. We all know now what an important and heroic part they played behind the locks of Nieuport. But the whole Province of Antwerp had fallen under heel of the Hun!

CHAPTER VII

A DAY OF ANGUISH

Friday, October 9, 1914, was a day of anxiety and fear for the city of Antwerp and the villages situated inside the fortified position. The Germans were within our midst, and from 9 o’clock in the morning the soldiers of the Kaiser began to extend their positions around the fortress, along the routes from the east and south-east. What was to become of Capellen? was a question asked by all of us.

All along the paths of the park of Starrenhof (residence of Mrs. Beland-Cogels), on the Antwerp-Holland highway in front of the Town Hall, groups of people who were left gathered to discuss the situation. Each asked the other: “When will the Germans reach here?” And fear was deeply lined on all faces, for the reports had reached us from the villages in the centre and in the east of Belgium which were far from reassuring as to the probable conduct of the German soldiery.

Refugees from the village of Aerschot, who were lodging at the farm of the chateau, drew a startling word picture of the tragic events which occurred at that place. Murder and arson had held sway for several days. In brief, the whole population of Capellen, including the refugees, were in a state of great nervousness.

Night fell on the city and the surrounding country without the Germans having put in an appearance. At about 9 o’clock, while our family with their friends were talking together, a fearful explosion was heard. What had happened? Each of us had different ideas, but the most plausible explanation was that a Zeppelin, flying over the village, had dropped a bomb into the yard of the chateau. Then the true explanation burst upon us suddenly. The fort nearest to the chateau was that of Erbrand, distant about one kilometre from us. The commanding officer of the garrison had ordered the fort blown up previous to its evacuation. The shock was so tremendous that an oil lamp burning in the hall where we sat was extinguished, and several windows were shattered. The bombardment of the city had broken electric light wires and the gas conduits were wrecked, so that oil lamps and candles were our only means of obtaining light.

Naturally, the explosion did not tend to soothe our nerves, and the entire family remained together in a large hall for the rest of the night. Beds were improvised and each of us obtained what rest was possible in the exciting condition of the time, which was very little.

About 1 o’clock in the morning a servant girl knocked at the door and told me that a man wished to see me. It was a Belgian, who urged me to at once leave with the family for Holland. He informed me that the Germans had left Antwerp a few hours previously, and were fast approaching Capellen; that they had already reached the village of Eccheren. They were pillaging and burning everything on the way. The man added that he himself was on his way to Holland with his aged mother.

“Where do you come from?” I asked him.

“From Contich,” he replied.

“Where is your mother?”

“I left her in a farmer’s house nearby,” he said. “I will go back to get her presently and take her to safety.”

“It is well,” I told him, “and I thank you for the warning you have given me.”

When leaving the house he urged again: “You have not a moment to lose. The lives of your wife and children are in danger,” he persisted.

After his departure I ordered a servant to awake everybody in the building–our immediate family and relatives from several places who had been lodging with us since the bombardment started. We held a family council–a real war council, if ever there was one. All were inclined to follow the man’s advice and start off for Holland. The dear old parish priest of Schouten, a distant relative of the family, wished us to leave at once.

I suggested that my wife and the children should go, taking with them all the baggage they could carry, while I would remain with Nys, an old and faithful servant who had been with the family for over thirty years. The old servant was quite willing to stay, but, as one might suppose, my wife objected to this arrangement. “We shall all remain together, or we shall all leave together,” she said.

Thereupon I proposed that we should take counsel of an old resident of Capellen, Mr. Spaet, a man of wisdom and experience, of German origin, but who had lived long in the country and could claim Belgian citizenship for upwards of forty years. He had two sons in the Belgian army. This proposal was accepted unanimously.

I accordingly left to see Mr. Spaet, wending my way through the line of fugitives who were still crowding the highway at this early hour of the morning.

Mr. Spaet was at home. In reply to my questions, he said he had no advice to give me, but insofar as he himself was concerned he intended to go back to bed as soon as I left him. I returned to the chateau somewhat reassured, and, addressing the members of the family and our friends, who had in the meantime made preparations to leave for Holland, I said: “Every one goes back to bed.” I related my conversation with Mr. Spaet, and then we all returned to bed, but, I am sure, none of us to sleep.

Subsequently another fearful explosion shook the house. It was the second fort–that of Capellen–which had been blown up. The large building in which we lived shook to its foundations.

A few minutes afterwards the same servant who previously knocked at the door of the hall came up again. She stated that our previous visitor had returned and demanded to see me. I went to him a second time. He repeated his monition, told me not to postpone the carrying out of his previous advice, but to act upon it immediately.

My suspicions were aroused by his manner and persistence, so I said to him: “What about the other residents of Capellen?”

“They have all gone,” he replied.

“And Mr. Spaet?” I asked him.

“Mr. Spaet is now in Holland with the others,” he said, without a tremor.

I knew that the man was lying, and if he was capable of lying he would be capable of stealing. He was one of those human jackals whose sinister plan it was to precede and follow the armies and plunder the houses as soon as the occupants had left them. I turned to the man and said: “Now, you, sir, take counsel of your own advice to me, and leave at once.” He went. But what a night was that one …!

At daybreak a radiant sun gilded the autumn foliage. As I opened a window I saw that the women and children who had sought refuge in the park of the chateau were still sleeping. The Germans had not yet arrived. They were not very far away, however.

CHAPTER VIII

THE GERMANS ARE HERE

On the morning of October 10, at about 9 o’clock, a messenger called at our house and, on behalf of a group of citizens, invited me to the City Hall. I was at a loss to know why my presence was wanted there, and decided to go at once. The City Hall was no more than one kilometre distant, and on my way I had to cross the unending procession of refugees slowly wending their toilsome way in the direction of Holland.

At the City Hall, I was met by a number of representative citizens of Capellen. They asked me to join them in receiving the German officers, who were then due to arrive at any moment. I could realize how hatred was accumulating in the German heart against Great Britain, for was Britain not the prime cause of their present check–the actual obstacle of the military promenade which the Germans had for forty years dreamed of making from the German frontier to Paris? The initial plan of the German high command had been frustrated, and for this disastrous failure they would hold that the English were naturally and justly responsible. I, therefore, suggested to my fellow-citizens that in my quality as a British subject I was more likely to be a hindrance than a help to them. They insisted, however–and with some plausibility perhaps–that the German officers would not know to which nationality I belonged, and that it was of immediate importance to make as good a showing as possible in numbers–there were not more than five of us all told, the others having crossed the frontier into Holland. Under the circumstances, I accepted their proposal and agreed to stay with them and meet the incoming Germans.

At 10 o’clock an individual burst into the room in which we were assembled and made the simple announcement: “Gentlemen, a German officer is here.”

Before the fall of Antwerp I had a close inspection of a number of German prisoners of war as they marched in file and under Belgian escort along the streets of the city, but I had never yet seen either near, or at a distance, a real Prussian officer, and I must confess that my curiosity was greatly aroused by the announcement of the imminent arrival. Ere we had time to advance to meet him, there he stood in the doorway, dressed in the uniform of a captain of German artillery and wearing the pointed helmet. He gave us the military salute, turned to Mr. Spaet and, speaking in German, said that in civilian life he was a lawyer and practised his profession at Dortmund. He looked at each and every one of us several times as though searching our souls to discover what were our inmost feelings and sentiments. He was manifestly surprised by the fact that Mr. Spaet, a Belgian, could speak such perfect German, and inquired of him how he had acquired his knowledge of his own language. Mr. Spaet replied frankly and honestly and then asked:

“What must we do?”

“Nothing,” replied the German officer. “However, you will not have to deal with me; I am only a scout. It is with Major X – , who will be here shortly, that you will have to make arrangements.”

With these words he took his leave, and a few minutes afterwards an automobile, containing the real negotiator, a Prussian major, who was accompanied by a very elegant officer, stopped in front of the Town Hall. This major typified the Prussian officer my imagination had pictured. Resplendent in uniform and glittering helmet, with blonde moustache trained a la Kaiser, he stood erect as a letter I, and stiff as an iron rod.

At the time there was, as in preceding days, a large crowd in the public square fronting the Town Hall. It was the direct route from Antwerp to Holland, and there were now accumulated here refugees from the four corners of the fortified position. Seemingly annoyed by such a gathering, the Prussian major demanded an explanation, which Mr. Spaet gave without hesitation.

“Whither are these people going?” he inquired.

“To Holland,” Mr. Spaet told him.

“Why?”

“Because they seek refuge from German fire,” answered Mr. Spaet.

“But since Antwerp has fallen, there is no further danger,” stated the major. “Tell these people to return to their homes. They will not be molested.”

Naturally we feared many requisitions would be made upon us.