South Bend news-times. (South Bend, Ind.) 1913-1938, 1914-10-08
VIVID PICTURE
OF WARS DEVASTATION
AMONG EUROPES POOR

happened that we were together
when the rest Of the villagers
struggled back home in a timid group.
They saw my guide and thus it was
that this friendly but unimpressive
peasant became the mOuthpiece of
fate. standing there by the roadside
and telling the people what they had
to bear.
The WoTuans Questions.
Michel had seen too many horrible
things for either sorrow or joy to
move him. He stood there merely
impressive. telling to each in an un-
moved and courteous voice the things
which had happened TO their homes.
a woman. gray haired. and certain
ly more than 20, was the first to see
us.
Michel Michel" she called, and
rushed toward us.
My hOuse?" the old woman asked
Burnt, mother" said Michel
"All burnt?"
GAIL"
Another woman, middle-aged and
hearty. clutched him by the arm.
Michel, Michele"
There were no Germans there.
They passed down in the little hollow,
on Monday night, but did not go in"
She fell back. Another, like enough
of the eager group. "Have they been
in my farm, Michele"
Yes, Henriette. The house is all
right. A troop of uhlans slept there
two nights"
"And the cattle?'
They have killed many. Also many
sheep"
From behind the crowd a voice
cried: Us my brother at home, Mi
chel?"
"He is dead" said Michel. 1.-The
uhlans took him for a guide and shot
him"
1t is not necessary that I should
continue to describe this intOlerable
scene. You have the essence of it.
Along the street strewn with splint-
cred glass 1 went, clambering over
mounds of fallen brick, or slipping on
the greasiness of the wet and Uttered
cobbles, and suddenly / found / was
shifting at the air. As long as 1 live
] shall never think of Termonde with
out a Whit of that smell blowing
across my memory. Ii was a medley
of brick-du and plaster dust and
charred wood, but above all, 1t was a
burnt-out smell, subtle but penetrat-
ing, the smell of something utterly
scorched and destroyed. 1t pervaded
all the air round TermOnde and filled
il with the sense Of death.
Roses Amid DesOladOn.
l went all around and about the
town, and nearly everywhere the same
ruins lined the Uttered streets. Black
ened and bulging remnants of house
fronts. through which one often
caught a glimpse of wildly green
rain-wet gardens lin one roses were
abloOm): chimneys that had crashed
down solidly and lay their length in
the street; great mounds Of rubble
that represented the whole frame
work and inner walls Cf a house lying
in what had been the front parlor.
Destruction showed freakish in its
choice of incidents. On the top floor
window sill Of one house whose front
wall alone remained a row Of flower
pots stood intact. though there was
no guarding rail 10 the narrow ledge.
In one house where every other trace
Of human occupation was buried in
the central heap gilt-framed picture
of the late king Leopold in his youth
still adorned the blackened wall. Here
and there I saw a bedstead that had
become a tangled web OF metal. And
through the arcade formed by the
shattered rooms of one house / saw.
hanging on the wall al the far end
plaster plaque of a mother sucking
her child. ii was a cheap little fancy
plaque. and yet somehow IL attained a
wonderful dignity there in the midst
OF so much ruin. The eternal fact
surviving temporary destruction.
\ story for a Cgaret.
Near the ferry 1 passed a huge,
whine factory building surmOunted by
a Red Cross flag. and as / approached
typical Tommy Atkins. whose arm
had been shattered 10y a bullet. hailed
me- ! gave him the cigaret he craved
and. in return. he told me his story.
He was an artillery man in a battery
that had punished the Germans Sc
verely in their retreat. He said:
Never. never shall ! forget that
most horrible scene when we rushed
our horses and heavy guns across the
field. covered all over with the bodies
OF dead and dying German soldiers.
I'VE do not really see the damage