Semi-weekly herald., 1915-03-15
FIGHTING MONK WITH
THE BELGIAN ARMY
(By. VIM. p. simms.) J

TO New York. )--Ihe chief observer
for the Belgian army, the man oc-
cupying the most dangerous post
along the entire Flemish front is a
Capucin monk.
Hidden in a MEDIEVAL tower of
chimney-like proportions, but with
walls six feet thick, part of an an
cient church, this fighting man of
God spends his days, telephone receiv-
er at his ear. field glasses to his eyes,
informing the Belgian artillery wheth-
er their shots arc too long, too short
or just right
All day long his snaggled tower.
rising from n tiny island no. more
than hundred feet square, is bonn
barded and battered by German guns
planted along the Yser Only middle
age masonry Of granite mixture could
stand this daily hammering and even
that must finally yield, for as this
is being written the old church steeple
is all Jagged at the top, where half
has been shot away and great holes
two feet deep pockmark it's sides.
And when at last it collapses un-
der the flows, the monk will certain
ly be there, for he stubbornly re
fuses to yield his place to another,
even for a day or a night.
For two months and two weeks be
has stuck to his ruined church tow
er, surrounded by flood of seawater
and river water mixed. which inun.
dates the country for forty miles in
all directions. His post is the most
desolate in Europe When his super
ir officers, under cover of night, go
to him and beg him to take rest,
he smiles like an embarrassed child
and replies:
"Why, | am less lonely here than
in my cell"
Escorted by a Belgian staff officer
on his rounds of inspection, | was
permitted to visit this outpost The
night was pitch black Heavy clouds
hung low and, driven before do
mile gale blowing in from the North
sea, drenching rain stung us in the
face. In the shelter of rooted front
line trenches, doing by the side of
charcoal fires, the troops were to be
envied
Through break in the trenches we
started forward but were stopped at
the end of fifty feet by an cntan-
clement Of barbed wire. The officer
flashed his electric lamp here and
there to discover the secret pass
through the network. Instantly there
came challenge from the hooded
sentry on the other side of the net
work
"Qui vive?"
"An officer" came the reply.
"Advanee and give the word of the
night
The officer fumbled about for sew
eral seconds finally locating the loose
ends Of the wires which he finally
turned back, slowly reversing the
barbed mesh. We were allowed to
proceed.
Once clear of front line trenches
and the barbed wire web, we slashed
down the ridge called a road, the only
land anywhere near us standing above
the inundations. After a few min
utes of this the road dipped slightly
and we found ourselves wading in
the flood. A horrible odor rose from
the water, an odor resembling that
of rotting cabbage and decaying
flesh.
whats that " the officer was ask
ed.
Dead Germans, probably" he an
swered. "There are hundreds of dead
bodies around here which we cannot
get to and bury. They fell in trying
to cross under fire. At night we
can't locate the bodies"
Presently we left the road at right
angles and took TO causeway three
or four feet wide, made Of small
branches tide in bundles resembling
logs. The path was just above the
flood, and the water, under the force
of the wind, now and then Tapped
over.
We found the monk standing at the
base of his steeple, looking with eyes,
gray and tender as a woman's in the
direction of the Germans, now only
200 yards away. He was a small,
slim man, perhaps 80 years of age
with manners MS gentle a. = girls