Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1918-10-11
:: The Truth About Belgium =:
BY BRAND WHTTLOCK

how long we stood there. The bat
terry that had fired at US aid had
come so near to hitting US. was at
last directing its fire in another di-
rection. its shells were falling else
where.
We were all silent after our ad-
venture on the hill. After we got
into the motor, and were driving
back into the village. Lancken.
twisting about in his little seat in
front of US. said:
We'll, you have had your baptism
Of fire. How did you feel
] told him I thought the baptism
was quite efficacious and that 1
should not require another INNER
sion
1T was not raining, you know"
VilialObar repeated.
1T was raining fire and brin-
stone." 1 said.
We were racing back through the
little town OF LEVIN. In a dirty and
deserted square a band was playing.
an old white-haired conductor lead
ing il. raising his baton high in the
air TO salute us are we passed.
After such a morning. after the
incidents OF the sleepless night and
the rising at such an unhallOwed
hour, we were all tired. We drove
TO the Hotel de lEurope, had a mis-
cradle luncheon. and then Won der
Lancken announced that at five
four, our time-we should start
back for Brussels. went up to my
room thinking I would lie down and
a 4 AZ
cannOnading was going on and 1
still heard the shrieking of those
shrapnel in my ears.
We made a detour and stopped for
tea in a pretty little cottage built
in the English style. where there
were some young officers. aviators
for the most part. The tea proved
10 be coffee and the young officers
were all very gay. They were
strong. good looking young chaps
and seemed to enjoy IL all as a kind
of sport They liked the life of
the villa. where they lived like a
college fraternity, and they were
naively anxious to have the war go
on indefinitely.
"Iespere," said one of them, who
spoke a little French. Que la paix
n-eclate pas" C"I hope that place
will not explode.')
He said il seriously, innocent Of
the charming mot the amusing
figure that he had made.
Back in Belgium
Won der Isancken wished to go
around through Oudensrde and that
involved another detour. We drove
through Roubaix and raced on to
Waterloo-not the historic Water
loo-and then through a village in
which every window and every
door was closed, and not a soul
abroad. There in the glare of the
afternoon sun it was like city of
the dead. but finally We saw peo-
pie cautiously peeping at us from
behind curtains in nearby window.
There was one person abroad, a boy
in the street, who said they had to
enter their houses at s o'clock. But
a little further up the road, not
quarter of a mile. the houses were
open, the population loafing pleas
antIy in the street-and we knew
We had entered Belgium. The peo-
pie were all gazing upward into the
sky and there. looking up, we saw
an English aviator overhead. As
We rolled along he came after US.
For miles and miles he few as we
rode. much of the time directly
over us.
The sun was low. the air was
clear and crisp. and the windmills
spread their graceful arms against
a silver western sky, the low barees
on the canal were spreading their
brown sails for the evening breeze;
the long line of slender trees along
the canal were bending like plumes,
ever towards the east, the charac-
teristic mark of the Flemish land
scape. 1t was a lovely evening and
we looked forward to a restful
drive in the peaceful twilight. But
all the while that aviator was fly
ing long with us. Now and again
Harrach would glance up. as would
I.ancken from time TO time; pres
emily he said:
IF he were to drop a bomb on
us"
The aviator raced along with us
for an hour and then turned back
and was lost in the pearly clouds
away TO the south. And we drove
on IN the quiet evening, lar IL
seemed from the war. for there were
none of the wars ravages visible in
that part of Flanders.
The spires of Qudenarde were
showing in the distance, and then
suddenly-an accident. Harrach and
the chauffeur got out but it was
no ordinary blowout, or "pneu
creve:" the chassis was broken.
"Rien de faire" C''There is moth
ing to be done"') said the chauf-
feur. shaking his head. Perhaps he
might get the car TO Oudenarde.
three kilometers away. He went
slowly. picking his way carefully,
over the terrible Belgian blocks
that pave the roads of Belgium.
We crawled along, and finally
reached Ourdenarde. Harrach got out
and was gone a long time. There
was no motor to be had. He found
the name OF a garage and sent the
chauffeur there with the car. In
the twilight we wandered through
the Grand Place and to the Hotel
de Vile, smaller but more beauti-
full. even, than the Hotel de Vile
in Brussels, then to the little Ho-
tel de la Pomme dor, where we
ordered supper. When the supper