By refusing to pay at cafés and shops the military already expressed their dissatisfaction. Then on Thursday, August 20th, about six in the evening, after a great many troops had crossed the river by the pontoon bridge, a shot was heard which seemed the sign for a terrible fusillade. Guns seemed to have been mounted at convenient places outside the town, for shells exploded right at its centre. The troops did no longer cross the bridge, but spread themselves in a disorderly manner all over the town, constantly shooting at the windows. Even mitrailleuses were brought into action. Those of the inhabitants who could fly did so, but many were killed in the streets and others perished by bullets entering the houses through the windows. Many others were shot in the cellars, for the soldiers forced their way in, in order to loot the bottles of wine and to swallow their fill of liquor, with the result that very soon the whole garrison was a tipsy mob. It struck me always that as soon as something took place anywhere which might lead to disorder, the method adopted was as follows: first a fusillade in order to scare the inhabitants, secondly looting of numberless bottles of wine, and finally cruel, inhuman murders, the ransacking and the wrecking. The game of shooting and looting went on all through the night of the 20th. Not a window or door remained whole even if the house was not burned down altogether. At four o'clock in the morning all the men, women, and children who had not yet been put to death were driven to the Place des Tilleuls, but on the way many men had their brains blown out. Amongst others, Dr. Camus, the septuagenarian burgomaster, was then wounded and afterwards received the finishing stroke by a hatchet. At the Place des Tilleuls fifty men were taken from the crowd at random, escorted to the Meuse, and shot. In the meantime other soldiers went on wrecking, firing, and looting. Andenne offered a dismal spectacle. The doors and windows of the houses that were not completely burned down had been kicked and beaten to pieces, and boards had been nailed before the holes. The inhabitants hung about disconsolately, and I could tell by their faces how they suffered, for every family in the town mourned the death of one dear to them. They all became excited whenever I mentioned the accusations brought against them. They asserted with the greatest emphasis that it was an absolute lie that the civilians had shot. "Even if they torture me to death," said most of them, "I'll still contend that this accusation is untrue."