A Journal From Our Legation in Belgium. Hugh Gibson
the car. There was in the front rank an enormous Belgian with a fiercely bristling beard. He looked like a sane sort, so I said to him: "Expliquez à ces gens que vous n'êtes pas des ogres pour croquer les enfants." He growled out affably: "Mais non, on ne mange pas les enfants, ni leurs mères," and gathered up the baby and passed him about for the others to look at. My passengers then decided that they were not in such mortal danger and consented to get out. An officer I knew came along and offered to escort them inside. On the way in I ran into Madame Carton de Wiart, wife of the Minister of Justice, who was there to do what she could to make things run smoothly. She is rabid about the Germans, but is not for taking it out on these helpless people. And that seems to be the spirit of everybody, although it would be quite understandable if they showed these people some of their resentment. The Gardes were bestirring themselves to look after their charges. Some of them had contributed their pocket money and had bought chocolate and milk for the children and mineral waters and other odds and ends for those that needed them. And some of them are not very sure as to how long they will have pocket money for themselves. Aside from the fright and the heat and the noise of that crowd in the Cirque, it was all pretty depressing. During the night one old man died—probably from fright and shock—and a child was born. It was altogether a night of horror that could perfectly well have been avoided if people had only been able to keep calm and stay at home until time for the train to leave.
Having settled my charges and taken a look round, I went back to the Legation and got off some telegrams and talked with Bell over the telephone. He had a lot of news that we had not received and many errands to be done for people who had friends and relatives here.
A little after midnight friend Nasmith came along and we set out together for our rounds. We first took a look at one or two places and then went to my diggings for a sandwich and such rest as we could get before time to start on our round-up. Soon after midnight, Fortescue came rolling up in a cab looking for a place to lay his head. He had just come in from Liège, where he had had a close view of yesterday morning's heavy fighting. He said the Germans were pouring men in between the forts in solid formation, and that these sheep were being mown down by the Belgians heavily intrenched between the forts. The Germans are apparently determined to get some of their men through between the forts and are willing to pay the price, whatever it may be. To-day we hear that the Germans have asked for an armistice of twenty-four hours to bury their dead.
After we had hung upon his words as long as he could keep going, Nasmith and I got under way to look after our exodus. The Garde was keeping order at all places where there were refugees, and I was easy in my mind about that; my only worry was as to what might happen when we got our people out into the streets. Promptly at three o'clock we began to march them out of the Cirque. The hour was carefully chosen as the one when there were the least possible people in the streets; the evening crowds would have gone home and the early market crowd would hardly have arrived. A heavy guard was thrown around the people as they came out of the building and they were marched quickly and quietly down back streets to the Gare du Nord. I never saw such a body of people handled so quickly and yet without confusion. In the station four trains were drawn up side by side; as the stream of people began pouring into the station, it was directed to the first platform and the train was filled in a few minutes. At just the right moment the stream was deflected to the next platform, and so on until all four trains were filled. After starting the crowd into the station and seeing that there was going to be no trouble, I set off with an officer of the Garde Civique to see about other parties coming from some of the convents. They had not waited for us, but were already moving, so that when we got back to the station they tacked onto the end of the first party and kept the stream flowing.
As fast as the trains were filled, the signal was given and they pulled out silently. I stood behind some of the Garde Civique and watched the crowd pour in. The Gardes did not know who I was aside from the fact that my presence seemed to be countenanced by their officers, and so I overheard what they had to say. They were a decent lot and kept saying: Mais c'est malheureux tout de même! Regardez donc ces pauvres gens. Ce n'est pas de leur faute, and a lot more of that sort of thing.
It takes a pretty fine spirit to be able to treat the enemy that way. A lot of people in the passing crowd spotted me and stopped to say good-bye or called out as they went by. It was pathetic to see how grateful they were for the least kind word. I never saw such a pitiful crowd in my life and hope I never may again. They hurried along, looking furtively to right and left with the look of a rat that is in fear of his life. I have seldom pitied people more, for that sort of fear must be the most frightful there is—simple fear of physical violence.
It was remarkable to see the different classes of people who were there. The Manager of a bank of Brussels had abandoned everything he owned and joined the crowd. There were several financiers of standing who felt obliged to flee with their families. And there were lots of servants who had lived here for years and were really Belgian in everything but birth. Just before the last train left some closed wagons came from the prisons to bring a lot of Germans and wish them back on their own country in this way.
And there was not an incident. Here and there a prowling cab driver hooted, but there was not a stone thrown or any other violence. Before the last of the procession got into the station, it was nearly six o'clock and broad daylight. We moved up the platform with Major Dandoy and watched the last train leave. The Abbé Upmans was there through it all, working like a trump, bucking the people up; he did not stop until the last train pulled out into the fresh summer morning, and then he stayed aboard after the train was in motion to shake hands with a little handful of downhearted people. He shook himself and heaved a sigh of relief—remarking quietly that his duty had required him to go through all this and look after his charges while they were in trouble—but that now he might have the satisfaction of being a Belgian. I too heaved a sigh of relief, but it was because the mob was safely off and I need not worry about street fighting.
Dandoy had not had any sleep for nearly sixty hours, and though Nasmith and I were pretty tired ourselves, we thought the least we could do was to take him home. His family is in Liège and he has not been able to get any word from them. I offered to try a telephone message to the Consul at Liège, but have had no luck with it. None the less, Dandoy has been most grateful.
Before we left the station they began bringing in the wounded and prisoners. Most of the wounded I saw were not badly hurt, and were plucky and confident. Most of them were supported or led by Boy Scouts who have taken off the military the full burden of messenger work and a lot of other jobs. They are being of real value, as they can do lots of useful things and thereby release grown men for service at the front.
When I got back to the Rue St. Boniface—after stopping at the Legation to see what had come in—had just time to throw myself down for a twenty-minute rest before the slave came in with my coffee. And then with no time for a tub, I had to hurry back and get into the harness. And none too soon, for the work began to pour in and I have been kept on the jump all day. If all goes well I hope to get to bed some time after midnight to-night. That means about three hours sleep and hard going during the past forty-eight hours.
This morning the various American committees came to the Legation to report on the measures they have taken for the protection of the colony in case of danger. I have been handed the pleasant task of Chief of Staff, with full authority to settle all matters affecting the protection of Americans in case hostilities reach this part of the country, as seems may well be the case before many days. In harmony with my well-known policy of passing the buck—more politely known as executive ability—I impressed Major Boyer of the Army, who is here for the time. He has set up an office at the headquarters of the committee and makes it his business to keep me fully posted as to what is going on there. First I started him out to look at the various houses that have been under discussion by the committee, so that he could decide as to their relative accessibility and general strategic advantages. He did this and made all sorts of arrangements tending to co-ordinate the work of the various sub-committees along the lines of the plan we drew up. It will be a great thing to have somebody who will act as buffer for all the detail and relieve me of just that much.
Germans who for one reason or another had not got away on our train kept turning up all day, and we kept sending them along to the Consulate. Late this afternoon the hard-working