On my way to Brussels I had to pass through Antwerp. My pass allowed me to go to Brussels—and nowhere else. But as the train stopped at six o'clock in the evening at Antwerp, and I learned that it would be there about three hours, I got off and asked the Germans who guarded the gate if I might stay in Antwerp over night. They told me that I had plenty of time and I might go down to the Kommandantur of the city and make my request. I did so.

"Herr Kommandantur" was a big, bull-necked, red-faced fellow who responded to my request with the grunted word, Warum? When I explained why I wanted to stay he asked me several questions about myself and wrote down the charges against me, and finally said if I would give him a quarter I could stay overnight—no, that was not exactly the way he said it, either. He did not speak English anyway, but after writing down all these answers, he said in a harsh, guttural tone, Eine Mark! I took the hint, and it didn't take long for me to produce the quarter. He then handed me the paper, which said that I was permitted to leave Antwerp and go to Brussels the following day. That was all I wanted. I wanted to see Antwerp—but I also wanted to go on, when I got ready. I had to have that paper then, permitting me to go on the morrow, or else I'd "find out the meaning of German authority!"

The next morning I took a walk to have a look about. I had already, on the previous day, as I came into Antwerp, witnessed many towns lying in ruins, the remains of which I could see from the car window. But when I went out into the town of Antwerp, I learned just what the German could do in the way of vandalism and ruthlessness. I saw the forts which they had bombarded for three days, on the third day of which they had tossed over those forty-two centimeter shells at the rate of one every five seconds all day and all night. The destruction was terrific. I came back to the center of the city and went into a little cafÉ to get some lunch. The woman who kept the place showed me two big pieces of iron and steel, chunks which must have weighed ten to fifteen pounds apiece, which she had found in her bed after the bombardment ceased, and she told me with tears in her eyes that later, after the capture of the town, the German officers outraged her daughter.

Fortunately, the woman had not been sleeping at home at the time, but had been over with her sister, otherwise she would not have shown anybody those iron relics. It was a close shave. This woman was very kind to me, and the only reason I do not mention her name, and many other names of Belgian people, who were courteous and helpful to me, is that some pro-German would very likely report them and have them harassed by the military governors there.

These governors are most thorough in their policy of persecution and inquisition, the same as in their scientific research, and I often hold myself back from telling names of Belgian people who were hospitable to me, for their own safety. When the war is over I shall write them all and try to demonstrate my deep appreciation. They bore up so nobly when their kinfolk were killed, their homes destroyed, and their country devastated. As soon as I got to Brussels I called on the American minister.