In the Prison City, Brussels, 1914-1918: A Personal NarrativeTwells, J. H. (Julia Helen Watts)
History
In the Prison City, Brussels, 1914-1918: A Personal Narrative
Twells, J. H. (Julia Helen Watts)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Belgium -- Brussels; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
I was told by one of those who assisted in the difficult and arduous
task of dividing the shiploads sent over from the United States
and elsewhere, that supplies had to be calculated, most minutely,
to the last box of matches, in order that each individual in all
parts of ravaged Belgium should have a share. Their labours were of
incalculable worth, and are not likely ever to be adequately estimated.
As for coal, which the Germans were shipping from Belgium in great
quantities to their own country, or exchanging for other commodities,
with Switzerland and other countries, it was only to be had through
the _accapareurs_. These went on foot with push-carts to Charleroi,
or were conveyed there by any wretched beasts they could find, and
bribed the German sentinels to let them return with small amounts of
coal, for which they demanded two hundred and fifty francs and more
a ton. Even at this price it was under weight, and mingled with dust
and stones. The use of gas was consequently greatly restricted. In
September an _Avis_ announced an increase in its price and a still
more trying limitation, the exceeding of which would be punished by
entire deprivation, not to mention a heavy fine. Buildings occupied
by Germans, however, were stated to be exempt from these restrictions.
The occupying powers seized everything they wanted. The entire
contents of dry-goods and other ware-shops were requisitioned;
food-stores, when not deliberately stolen, were bought up in bulk by
the officers, and sent home to their families in Germany. Even the
shooting of the game with which the woodlands about Brussels were well
stocked was forbidden to all save the army. The Bois and adjacent
woods resounded, during the shooting season, with the report of German
hunting-pieces destroying partridge and pheasant preserves, and that
even on private property; but a young Belgian lad, caught poaching not
far from the place where we lived, was shot in the act and left where
he fell.
These men with guns cared little for the sufferings of the unarmed and
famished people under their control, and found it easier to punish
petty opposition to their laws of greed by a bullet than by trial
or imprisonment. Their victims were numerous. One boy, whose family
I knew, was shot and badly wounded for trying to smuggle from the
country two kilos of potatoes, not for sale, but for the needs of his
family.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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