The sentry drew back his bayonet
to run him through. A couple of the peasants pulled the old man flat to
the ground and stifled his talking.
At five o'clock in the morning German stretcher bearers marched behind
the burned houses. Out of the house of the peasant lying next to me
three bodies were carried. He broke into a long, slow sobbing.
At six o'clock a monoplane sailed overhead, bringing orders to our
detachment. The troops intended for Ghent were turned toward Brussels.
The field artillery, which had been rolled toward the west, was swung
about to the east. An officer headed us toward Ghent and let us go. If
the Germans had marched into Ghent we would have been of value as a
cover for the troops. But for the return to Brussels we were only a
nuisance. We hurried away toward Ghent. As we walked through a farmyard
we saw a farmer lying at full length dead in his dooryard. We passed the
convent school of Melle, where Catholic sisters live. The front yard was
strewed with furniture, with bedding, with the contents of the rooms.
The yard was about four hundred feet long and two hundred feet deep. It
was dotted with this intimate household stuff for the full area. I made
inquiry and found that no sister had been violated or bayoneted. The
soldiers had merely ransacked the place.
One of my companions in this Melle experience was A. Radclyffe Dugmore,
formerly of the Players Club, New York, a well-known naturalist, author
of books on big game in Africa, the beaver, and the caribou.
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