It was at Wommelghem, near Antwerp, that, on the 4th of September, 1914, I was given command of the No. 7 armoured car attached to the Cavalry Division. I will begin by congratulating those who invented and thought out this engine of warfare. Some have been built which were six months in the work-shops. Of these, some are monuments which can never be utilised, and others are wonders invented in offices, which need to be stripped of three quarters of their improvements, in order to be of any use under fire. In three weeks, the Minerva factory and the Cockerill work-shops delivered to the Belgian army what I believe to be the best armoured car in use. It is sure, easily worked, rapid, strong, and efficiently protected. The No. 7 car brought me a number of brave men. First there was Count Guy de Berlaymont, the personification of courage and indifference to danger; then Constant Heureux, bravery and abnegation made man; finally Dujardin and Gouffaux, two good and valiant soldiers. All of them, like myself, were volunteers. Without any preliminaries, we found ourselves at once in the midst of the drama. On the evening of the 5th of September, at the Criterium at Antwerp, Lieutenant Hankar, Count Henri de Villermont, Prince Baudouin de Ligne, Misson, Philippe de Zualar, Berlaymont and I were sitting round a table, discussing our departure joyfully. On the evening of the 6th, Berlaymont and I were again at the Criterium, and big tears came to our eyes, as we looked at the empty seats which had been occupied, the previous evening, by our friends. That afternoon, whilst patrolling round Herenthals, we heard that their vehicles had been attacked near Zammel. All that we were able to snatch from the enemy had been three dead men, four wounded ones, some weapons, and two armoured cars. The Germans had now a fresh item, and a very big one, on the account that we had to settle with them. On the 8th of September, we had our revenge. For the second time, the army made a _sortie_ from Antwerp, and the Cavalry Division, forming the left wing, advanced towards Louvain. Information of all kinds poured in at Headquarters and one detail struck General de Witte, that chief of whom I can never speak without the greatest respect and admiration. The General had been told that the village of Werchter was only weakly guarded. A bold stroke might make us masters of the passage of the Dyle. This stroke was to be attempted. The execution of it was confided to the Battalion of Cyclist Carabineers, that heroic phalanx which does not need to be introduced to any one, so well is it known. Everyone is acquainted with our _diables noirs_ (black devils), those of Haelen, and of everywhere else where there were blows to be given and laurels to reap, that band of brave men who always set out laughing, dressed their wounds whilst singing, and returned to the fight the following day, their natural ardour increased by the desire to avenge the deaths of the previous day.