The Bemidji daily pioneer. [volume] (Bemidji, Minn.) 1904-1971, 1915-03-02
MONK IS CHIEF Of
BELGIAN0BSERVERS
Quits Cell to Serve King-Will Re-
turn When Country is Restored
to Its Former Ruler. l@
UNDER FIRE ALL DAY LONG
Hidden in Medieval Tower He Holds
Telephone With Which He Informs
Artillery Concerning Shells.
BY PHILIP SIMMS.

Flanders. - with the Belgian
Army at the front. by mail to New
York.-The chief observer for the
Belgian army, the man occupying the
most dangerous position along tie
entire Flemish front is Capucin
monk, hidden in a medieval tower
OF chimney-like proportions, but with
walls six feet thick, part of an an
cient fortress, this man of God
spends his days, telephone receiver
at his ear, fields glasses to eye, in
forming the Belgian artillery wheth-
er their shells are too long, too short
or just right. All day long in his
snaggled tower, rising from a tiny
plain not more than a hundred feet
square, is bombarded and battered
by German guns planted along the
User. Only middle-aged masonry of
granite mixture would stand this
daily grind, and it 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 torn pockmark in it's
side. He refuses to leave his post
even for a day or for a night.
A Desolate Post.
For two months and two weeks he
has stuck to his ruined church tower,
surrounded by flood of sea water
and river water mixed which mum
dates the country for 40 miles in
all directions. His post is the most
desolate in Europe. When his su
perior officer, under cover of night
goes to him and begs him to take a
rest, he smiles like an embarrassed
child and replies: why I am less
lonely here than in my cell.''
Escorted by Belgian staff Off
Ger on his rounds of inspection, 1
was permitted to visit this outpost
The night was pitch dark. Heavy
clouds hung low and driven before
a. 4O-mfie' gale blowing in from the
North-se a drenching rain=stung us
in the face lin the shelter of rooted
front. line trenches, dosing by the
side of charcoal fires, the troops were
to be envied. Through a break in
the trenches we started forward, but
were stopped at the end of SO feet
by an ENHANCEMENT of barbed wires
The officer flashes his electric light
here and there and then discovers
the secret path through the networks.
Instantly there came challenge
from the hooded sentry at the other
end of the passage: "Who comes
there?" can officer" advance and
give the word of the night"
Halted by Wires.
The officer fumbled about for sew
eral seconds finally locating the
loose ends of the wire, which he fin
ally turned back, slowly reversing
the barbed mesh. We were allowed
to proceed. Once clear of front line
trenches and the barbed mesh, we
splashed down the marsh, called road,
the only land anywhere near, stand
ing above the foundations. After a
few minutes of this the road dipped
slightly and we found ourselves wa
ding in the food. A horrible odor
arose from the water, an odor re-
sembling that of rotting cabbages
and decaying flesh. whats that ?"
the officer was asked. Dead Ger
mans, probably" he answered.
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
Finally we left the road at right
angles and took causeway of or
yards width, made of small bun
dies of wood bound together. We
found the monk standing at the base
OF his steeple, looking with eyes grey
and tender as woman's in the di-
rection of the German, now only 200
yards away.
Manner Like Girls.
He was a small, slim man, perhaps
30 years of age, with manners as gen
tie as girls. He smiled almost
constantly and was not morose
brooding. person one might imagine
him to be, nor the world-weary in
dividua1 looking for a way to com
NIT suicide honorably. He lovet
life apparently as much as anyone il
his own fashion and his martyr-lik
and self-imposed talk of hourly risk
ing his skin, was purely one of pa
fContinued on last page.
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