Visé had not been burnt yet, as had been reported in The Netherlands. Only here and there had the shells done some damage, and hundreds of window-panes had been burst by the vibration of the air. As a token of submission to the invader, small white flags hung from all the windows, and these, along the whole length of a street, made a decidedly lamentable impression. The inhabitants had already had a variety of experiences. On Tuesday, August 4th, the first German troops arrived before the little town. The gendarmes stationed there offered resistance to the invading enemy, but, being hopelessly outnumbered, they were all shot down. As they were lying on the ground, badly wounded, Dr. Frits Goffin, head of St. Hadelin College, came in great haste as soon as he heard the shooting. All the wounded were Roman Catholics, and as they saw the approaching priest, they implored him in a loud voice to give them absolution of sins, some making an act of contrition. The priest was unable to come near each of them, and therefore called out in a loud voice: "My Jesus, be merciful!" He then gave them all absolution of sins. But as he kneeled down to perform this sacred task, a hostile bullet whizzed past his ear, and several soldiers who ran by aimed at him, so that he had to seek safety behind a tree. I saw with my own eyes five bullet-holes in the tree that was pointed out to me. In those first days many civilians were killed, and not only in Visé, but still more in the surrounding villages, Mouland and Berneaux, which were soon burnt down and where many a good man was brought low by the murderous bullets. The savage soldiers killed the cattle also, and a large number of carcases had been lying about for days. At Visé many men had been commanded to do certain kinds of work, cutting down trees, making of roads, bridges, and so on. Many of them never returned, because they refused to do the humiliating work and were shot. Among these there were even aged people; and I myself stood by the death-bed of a man of ninety, who had been forced to assist in building a bridge, until the poor wretch broke down and was carried to St. Hadelin College, turned into a hospital by Dr. Goffin; there he died. No wonder that the inhabitants were afraid and looked askance at me as they mistook me for a German. On this day, August 8th, the reign of terror was still in full force. There were repeated threats to burn the town and to kill the inhabitants if they objected to do work or to deliver certain goods, especially wine and gin, of which thousands of bottles were requisitioned daily. Several times a day they were summoned by a bell and informed what the invader wanted, the necessary threats being added to the command. And the inhabitants, in mortal fear, no longer trusted each other, but searched each other's houses for things that might be delivered to satisfy the Germans.