The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists in the Great War

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XXII

  The Sack of Louvain

  Passing along several gloomy passages and ascending two flights ofstairs, Kenneth was ushered into a large, well-lighted room overlookingthe city square. From without came the noise and bustle of hundreds oftroops. Several regiments, having recently arrived, were partaking ofa meal in the open, the food being cooked in large portable kitchens,the smoke from which drifted in through the open windows of the room.

  Seated at a massive oak desk was an officer in the uniform of theGerman General Staff. Behind him stood a major and two captains. At awriting desk against the wall, facing the windows, sat a militaryclerk. The soldiers of Kenneth's escort lined up behind him, thesergeant standing rigidly at attention on his right. Of Rollo therewere no signs.

  For some moments Colonel von Koenik, the president of the court,regarded the lad before him with a fixed glare. Kenneth met thepresident's gaze unflinchingly, yet he realized that there was a menacein the German's manner. It was a hatred of England and of all men andthings English.

  Finding that he could not browbeat the prisoner, von Koenik rasped outa few words to the major who stood behind him. With a stiff salute thelatter advanced to the side of the president's desk.

  "What is your name, prisoner?" he asked in fairly good English,although there was a tendency to substitute the letter "b" for "p" inmost of his words.

  Kenneth told him. The major referred to a paper that he held in hishand.

  "You are English? What are you doing in Brussels?"

  "I am a soldier in the Belgian service."

  "In the Belgian service perhaps; but a soldier--no, never."

  "Pardon me, sir," protested Kenneth; "I am a corporal of the 9thRegiment of the Line."

  The Major waved his hand contemptuously.

  "You are not--what you call it?--ah!--bluffing an English magistratethis time. You have a Prussian officer to deal with. If what you sayis true, why are you not in uniform? Where are your identity papers?Say rather that you are in the employ of that arch-plotter Grey; tellus exactly the truth, then perhaps we will be merciful."

  "Of what offence am I accused, sir?"

  "Espionage--surely you know that without asking an unnecessaryquestion."

  "It is not true. I have never attempted to spy. Who, sir, is myaccuser?"

  "It is undesirable to mention names. Our informant states that youhave been several days in Brussels, always in civilian clothes. Youfrequented public buildings; you were seen watching the arrival of ourtroops."

  "That I admit," said Kenneth. "There was no secrecy about theceremonial parade of the German army through the streets."

  "Then perhaps you would tell your friends in England how the victoriousGermans will march through London, hein?" asked the Major mockingly.

  "I'm afraid they won't," retorted Kenneth, throwing discretion to thewinds. "Your troops have to reckon first with our army and then withour fleet."

  "Your army? Faint-hearted mercenaries. Englishman, in less than afortnight our troops will march right through the English and theirfriends the French, and be in Paris. After that, London."

  "No fear!" ejaculated Kenneth.

  The German major shrugged his shoulders.

  "It is wasting the time of the court," he remarked. "To return to thebusiness in hand. You, an Englishman, have been caught red-handed.You admit you are interested in military matters, although your claimto be a corporal in the Belgian army does not hold. Again, you admitthat you took up arms against us?"

  "Certainly--as a soldier, and strictly in accordance with the code ofwar."

  "Your code is not our code," sneered the Major. He then turned andaddressed the president. Colonel von Koenik inclined his head, andgave an order to the sergeant of the guard.

  Three men filed out, returning after a brief interval with Rollo.Limping badly, young Barrington was marched across the room and placedby the side of his chum.

  The president stood up and removed his helmet. The other officers alsouncovered.

  "Accused," he said, speaking in English, "you are found guilty on acharge of espionage. The sentence is death."

  Von Koenik sat down and resumed his head-dress. He scanned the facesof the two lads, as if to detect signs of fear. But there were none.Beyond an almost imperceptible tightening of the lips, the youngBritons received the grim intelligence unflinchingly.

  "But on account of your youth I am going to make what you English calla sporting offer. You"--addressing Rollo--"expressed an opinion thatour armies would never reach Paris."

  "I did," replied Rollo, whose examination had been concluded beforeKenneth had been brought before the court.

  "And you also"--to Kenneth--"made a similar rash statement."

  "Not rash, sir; but a candid statement."

  "Very good. You will both find that you are in error. Now, this is myoffer. You will not be shot straight away. You will be kept in closeconfinement. As soon as Paris is taken--as it will be in about afortnight--your sentence will be put into execution. If within thirtydays from now our armies should by some unprecedented accident fail toreach Paris, your lives will be spared and your sentences commuted toten years' imprisonment in a fortress. You comprehend?"

  Von Koenik broke off to exchange a few words in German with the major.Then he resumed:

  "Major Hoffmann here will be answerable for your custody. So long asyou give no trouble, and make no attempt to escape--such attempt willbe bound to be a failure, let me add--you will be treated with as muchconsideration as it is possible to accord to convicted spies."

  Again the president conferred with the major. Then, stiffly saluting,Major Hoffmann gave an order. The soldiers closed around the twoprisoners.

  With their heads held erect, Kenneth and Rollo were about to be marchedfrom the presence of the grim Colonel von Koenik, when the latterrapped the desk with an ivory mallet.

  "Of course," he added, "when our armies enter Paris--about the 1st ofSeptember--you will accept the decree of fate? Perhaps. But it is notpleasant to be confronted by the muzzles of a dozen rifles of afiring-party. There is one more chance. If you give us true and fullinformation concerning certain points which will be raised later, thefull penalty will be mitigated. You understand?"

  Both Kenneth and Rollo began to protest, but von Koenik silenced them.

  "You English are too fond of acting and thinking rashly on the spur ofthe moment," he exclaimed. "Think it over--carefully. It is worthyour calm deliberation."

  On being removed from the court, Kenneth and Rollo were placed in thesame cell--the room in which the former had been kept pending hisappearance at the farcical trial.

  Colonel von Koenik had no intention of carrying his threat intoexecution. He was one of those men who are firm believers in theapplication of methods of tyranny to gain their ends. Kenneth Everesthad been denounced as a spy by the tobacconist of the Rue de laTribune--himself a German secret agent. The information had to beacted upon, and Rollo, living in the same house as the accused, hadalso been arrested.

  Von Koenik would not condemn a prisoner without conclusive evidence.He was convinced, mainly on the testimony of Madame Hirondelle, thatneither Kenneth nor Rollo was a spy; at the same time they wereEnglishmen, and that was sufficient to merit their detention. Again,by intimidation or cajoling they might be able to furnish valuableinformation to the German authorities. Since the informal sentence ofdeath did not move the accused to beg for mercy, a slower andconstantly terrifying method must be applied.

  The firm expressions on the forthcoming failure on the part of theGermans to enter Paris--an expression that both lads made independentlyof each other--gave von Koenik an idea. On his part he was absolutelycertain that no mortal power could arrest the victorious march of theKaiser's legions; and such was his obsession that he imagined bothKenneth and Rollo could have no inmost doubts on the matter. Byproposing a "sporting offer", von Koenik knew that his methods toterrorize wou
ld have time to work and undermine the resolution of theEnglish lads. In a very few days, he decided, they would be willing tosave themselves from a haunting dread by offering the information hedesired.

  It was by no means a new experiment on the part of Colonel von Koenik.During his tenure of office in command of a line regiment in anAlsatian town, he had frequently terrorized civilians who had fallenunder his displeasure, by the application of methods based upon thelegendary sword of Damocles. Hitherto this form of the tyranny of theMailed Fist had been most successful; but it was different in the caseof Kenneth Everest and Rollo Barrington.

  "What was that swashbuckler driving at, I wonder?" asked Rollo, whenthe two chums found themselves alone in their cell. "Do you think thathe really intends to have us shot?"

  "I should say yes; only I don't understand why the sentence was notcarried out at once. It is a low-down trick keeping us on tenterhooks;but from what we have already seen and heard, these Germans--thePrussians especially--do not draw the line at anything."

  "Anyhow, the fellow thinks he's on a dead cert. on the Paris trip. Idon't; so if he's as good as his word on the month's grace we'll escapethe firing-party. As for the ten years, that's nothing. We'll beliberated at the end of the war."

  "Unless we 'break bounds' at the first opportunity," added Kenneth."We both seem to have been born under a lucky star, and having giventhose fellows the slip once, there is no reason why we shouldn't beequally successful the next time."

  The two following days the lads passed in uneventful captivity in thecell. Straw had been provided for bedding, while their meals consistedof rye bread and water, and, once a day, a bowl of soup. For half anhour they were allowed to take exercise in an enclosed courtyard, foursoldiers, carrying loaded rifles, having been told off to prevent anyattempt at escape.

  On the morning of Tuesday, the 25th of August, the prisoners wereordered to leave their cell. Guided by the same four soldiers, theywere marched into the courtyard, where a dozen Belgian civilians wereformed up under an armed guard. In a doorway opening into thequadrangle stood Major Hoffmann, watching the proceedings with asupercilious air.

  "Are they going to shoot the crowd of us?" whispered Kenneth; butbefore Rollo could reply, a sergeant gave the speaker a violent blowand sternly ordered him in French to be silent.

  The names of the prisoners were then called out, each man having toanswer to his name. This done, the sergeant in charge took the list toMajor Hoffmann, who initialled the document and returned it.

  Then the large gates at one end of the courtyard were thrown open, andthe prisoners, surrounded by their armed guards, were ordered to march.

  Along the Chaussee de Louvain--one of the principal thoroughfares ofBrussels--the melancholy procession passed. There were crowds ofpeople about in addition to the numerous German troops. The citizensregarded their compatriots under arrest with suppressed feelings. Theywere afraid to make any demonstration of sympathy. The iron heel ofGermany had crushed the spirit out of the Belgians who still remainedin the fallen capital.

  "Do you know where they are taking us to?" asked Kenneth of theprisoner marching next to him, evidently a well-to-do business manbefore the great calamity that had overtaken him.

  "They say to Germany, there to work in the fields and help to feed ourenemies," replied the man. "At all events, we have to march to Louvainand be entrained there."

  Kenneth's great fear was that Rollo would be unable to stand the strainof the long march. His ankle had improved, but he still limpedslightly.

  "I'm all right," replied Rollo cheerily, in response to his chum'sanxious enquiry. "It's better than being cooped up in that rottenhole. Besides," he added in a whisper, "we may get a chance of givingthem the slip."

  So far the information given by the Belgian seemed to be correct. Theprisoners were trudging along the highway leading to Louvain. Beyondthat point, railway communication was now possible; for with theiradvance upon Brussels the German engineers had lost no time inrepairing the lines and erecting temporary bridges in place of thosesacrificed by the Belgians in their efforts to impede the enemy'sadvance.

  At twelve o'clock the prisoners reached the village of Cortenburg,about half-way between the capital and Louvain. Here they were halted,and driven into a church. For food and drink they had to depend uponthe charity of the villagers, who, notwithstanding the fact that theyhad been despoiled by the invaders, gave the famished and travel-wornmen bread and milk.

  For three hours Kenneth and his companions in adversity were kept underlock and key, while their escort, having obtained copious quantities ofwine, were becoming boisterously merry. When, at length, the order wasgiven to resume the march, some of the soldiers were so drunk that theycould not stand. The sergeant thereupon ordered the villagers toprovide two carts, and in these, lying on bundles of straw, thebesotted men followed their comrades.

  Before the prisoners had covered a mile beyond Cortenburg an openmotor-car dashed past. In spite of its great speed both Kenneth andRollo recognized its occupants. They were Colonel von Koenik and MajorHoffmann.

  "They don't mean to get out of touch with us, old man," remarkedKenneth, after the car had disappeared in a cloud of dust. "I supposethey'll go on by train to whatever distance we are bound for. I'llwarrant they'll be waiting at Louvain."

  "I wish I had the chance of bagging that motor-car," said Rollo. "It'sa beauty. We'd be in Antwerp in less than an hour."

  "Instead of which we're tramping along, with a dozen of more or lessintoxicated soldiers to keep an eye on us," added Kenneth. "I believeif we made a bolt for it they would be too tipsy to aim properly."

  "It's too risky," declared Rollo. "There are hundreds of German troopsscattered all over this part of the country. Besides, if we did getaway, the other prisoners would get a rough time. What's that?"

  "Rifle-firing," replied Kenneth, as the rattle of musketry could befaintly heard, the sounds coming from the north.

  "A battle before Antwerp, probably," suggested Rollo. "The Germanswill have a stiff task if----"

  A vicious box on the ear from the nearest soldier brought theconversation to a sudden close. The fellow who dealt the blow grinnedwith intense satisfaction at his deed. The next instant Rollo's fistshot out straight from the shoulder, and the German dropped like a log.He was too drunk to feel the blow, so he sat on the road, his rifle onthe ground, holding his jaw with both hands and bawling in pot-valiantstyle.

  Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, two of the Belgianprisoners made a dash for liberty. One was the man to whom Kenneth hadspoken--a short, stout, apoplectic individual; the other a tall, leanfellow who had the appearance of a trained athlete.

  Before the astonished Germans could level their rifles both men had gotacross a wide ditch, and had placed a hundred yards of marshy groundbetween them and their late captors. Then half a dozen rifles rangout, but the fugitives held on, the taller one having established alead of twenty yards. They were making for a wood, not more than aquarter of a mile off.

  Again and again the Germans fired. The lads could see some of thebullets kicking up spurts of dirt a long way wide of their mark; othersmust have sung harmlessly overhead.

  Suddenly the short man stopped. He could run no farther. He called tohis companion; but the latter, taking no heed, did not slacken hisswift pace. The corpulent fugitive looked over his shoulder, andseeing that some of the Germans had attempted pursuit, began to walkafter his compatriot. The fact that the soldiers had missed him atshort range had given him confidence. Presently the tall Belgiangained the outskirts of the wood. Here he stopped, and waved his armswith a contemptuous gesture at the German soldiers. It was hisundoing, for by sheer chance a bullet struck him in the head. Hepitched on his face and lay motionless.

  The other man, alternately walking and running, got clear away.

  The English lads now had their turn. They were kicked, prodded withrifle-butts, and repeatedly struck by the fists
of the infuriated,half-drunken soldiers, till the sergeant, fearing that he might getinto serious trouble if Colonel von Koenik's special prisoners weremuch injured, ordered his men to desist. Two of them were sent tobring the body of the foolhardy Belgian. Dead or alive the whole ofthe prisoners had to be accounted for, and the fact that one wasmissing caused the sergeant considerable misgivings.

  Meanwhile the sound of distant firing still continued. If anything itseemed nearer. The German escort began to hurry their prisoners along.

  A mile or so farther on they reached a small village. Here most of theinhabitants had left, but a few gazed timorously upon the grey-coatedsoldiers from the upper windows of their houses.

  The sergeant gave the order to halt, then spoke hurriedly to two of hismen who were not so intoxicated as the rest. These two walked up to adoor and knocked. Receiving no reply, they shattered the woodwork withtheir rifles and entered the house. In less than a minute theyreappeared, dragging between them a peasant so old and feeble that hecould hardly walk. Him they bundled into the cart beside the body ofthe dead Belgian, and the convoy resumed its way.

  "The brutes!" ejaculated Kenneth. "I see their game. They're going topalm off that poor peasant as the man that escaped."

  "It seems like it," agreed Rollo; "but what will happen when they readthe roll-call? It will give the show away."

  "Trust those fellows for carrying out a dirty piece of work. Hist!"

  The lads relapsed into silence. They did not want a repetition of thescene when their last conversation was interrupted. Already they werebruised from head to foot.

  Shortly before six in the evening the prisoners reached the outskirtsof Louvain. The town, the principal seat of learning of Belgium, was,of course, in the hands of the Germans; but hitherto they had refrainedfrom any vandalism. According to their usual procedure they hadterrorized the inhabitants, who still remained in fear and trembling.Everywhere were placards in French and Flemish, warning the townsfolkthat any act of hostility towards the German troops would result insevere penalties. With the examples of the fate of other towns andvillages--where the luckless inhabitants, in defence of their lives andhomes, had ventured to resist the invaders and had been ruthlesslymassacred--the people of Louvain had rigidly abstained from any actionthat could be regarded as aggressive to German authority. On theirpart the invaders behaved fairly well, and confidence was beginning tobe restored amongst the Belgians who still remained in Louvain.

  Suddenly a shot rang out, quickly followed by others. Bulletsscreeched over the heads of the prisoners and their German guards. Ina few moments all was confusion. The prisoners flung themselves on theground to escape the deadly missiles. Some of the escort followedtheir example. Others, kneeling behind the two wagons that brought upthe rear of the procession, returned the fire.

  "Good!" ejaculated Kenneth. "Louvain has been recaptured. Thataccounts for the firing we heard this afternoon."

  "I trust so," replied Rollo. "There's one fellow down--another rascalthe less."

  It was the German who had received a taste of a British fist. Renderedincautious in his maudlin state, he had recklessly exposed himself. Abullet passing through his chest laid him dead on the spot. AnotherGerman was leaning against the wheel of a wagon, with his hand clappedto his right shoulder.

  Just then the sergeant caught sight of the troops who were blazing awayat his party. With a succession of oaths he bade his men cease fire.Here was another blunder. The Germans were firing at each other.

  At length the exchange of shots ceased. A Prussian officer,accompanied by half a dozen of his men, advanced to meet the prisonersand their escort. His face was purple with fury. For ten minutes hebullied and browbeat the luckless sergeant, whose men had not beenresponsible for opening fire. Then other officers--members of thestaff--hurried up, and a hasty consultation followed.

  Presently Colonel von Koenik tore up in his motorcar. He wasaccompanied by another staff-officer, Major von Manteuffel, whose namewas presently to be execrated throughout the civilized world.

  Von Manteuffel was in a high pitch of nervous excitement. Evidently hewas trying to fix the blame upon the men escorting the Belgianprisoners, while von Koenik, cool and calculating, championed theircause.

  Kenneth and Rollo watched the scene with well-concealed satisfaction.The mere fact that some small portion of the mechanism of the MailedFist had gone wrong elated them. It was an insight into the blusteringmethods of German military organization; but they had yet to learn thatthe Bullies of Europe had a drastic remedy for their errors, wherebythe penalty fell upon the weak and helpless.

  Von Koenik gave an order, the sergeant bundled Rollo and Kenneth intoan isolated house situated about half a kilometre from the town. Whatbefell the Belgian prisoners the lads never knew, but from the windowin the upper room in which they were confined, the British youths couldcommand a fairly-extensive view of Louvain and the road whichapproached it.

  Two German soldiers were locked in the room, but they offered noobjection when Kenneth and Rollo went to the window.

  Above the tiled roofs of the houses, the ancient and venerable churchof St. Pierre shot up like an island in the centre of a lake. Otherbuildings--churches, the Hotel de Ville, and the university--wereslightly less conspicuous, yet clearly discernible above the expanse ofhouses. Along the road were hundreds of grey-coated troops, while asmall black patch in that long-drawn-out riband of silver-greyindicated the position of the way-worn band of Belgian prisoners, whowere now almost within the limits of the town.

  While the British lads were at the window, then German guards producedfrom their knapsacks some pieces of roll, sausages, and a bottle ofwine. Soon the room was filled with the disagreeable sounds ofTeutonic mastication, which, unless one has had the misfortune to hearit, cannot satisfactorily be described. Kenneth and Rollo, thankingtheir lucky stars that they were not compelled to witness theperformance, remained at the window.

  Suddenly, just as the town clocks were chiming the hour of six, asuccession of shots rang out.

  "Good!" ejaculated Kenneth. "The Belgians are driving home an attack."

  The two Germans gave not the slightest hint of alarm, but stolidlycontinued their meal. Their indifference caused the lads to wonder.It was not a conflict between two armed forces, but a massacre! It wasthe commencement of what was, in the words of the Prime Minister ofGreat Britain, "the greatest crime against civilization and culturesince the Thirty Years' War".

  Fortunately Kenneth and his companion were spared the horrors of havingto witness the indiscriminate shooting of luckless civilians, but, fromtheir coign of vantage, they were spectators of the scene ofdestruction that followed.

  Tall, lurid flames burst forth from the centre of the town of Louvain.Gradually the ever-widening circle of fire spread till the bulk of thehouses was one vast holocaust.

  Throughout that terrible night the lads remained at the window,watching the progress of the conflagration and listening to the shrieksof panic and terror from the brutally-maltreated inhabitants.

  That was von Manteuffel's method of covering up the blunder made by hishalf-drunken troops.