Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 64, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 March 1915 — WOMAN PIERCES LINES OF ENEMY [ARTICLE]

WOMAN PIERCES LINES OF ENEMY

Wife of British Officer Tells How She Dressed Wounds of Injured Countrymen. WAS DISGUISED A 8 A PEASANT Found Bruges, Crowded with Suffering, City of “Supremo Sadness.** London. A vivacious Englishwoman, the wife of a well known officer bearing a famous name, just returned from Holland, but whose name for obvious reasons must not be mentioned, tells a remarkable narrative of an adventurous day's tour she made behind the German lines. ••I made up my mind,** she said, “to see for myself what was going on. I was warned that if I went out on my adventure in my usual clothes I should be seized as a spy. So I disguised myself as a Flemish peasant woman, with the assistance of a national costume — earrings and headdress complete down to the very shoes; stained my face brown with a concoction of strong coffee, borrowed a pair of spectacles and a market basket and set off across country on foot. “I reached Bruges safely enough and with nothing untoward to mark my journey. Bruges I know well enough at ordinary times, but as the city was when I entered it I should not have recognized it. It was a city of supreme sadness —of gloom, desolation and pain. There were wounded Germans everywhere, wandering about the streets aimlessly and apparently uncared for. My heart bled at the sight of some of them, though my own hospital training has hardened me to most incidents of suffering and pain. Automobiles, vans and all manner of vehicles were being used to hurry the wounded through and out of the town. Hospital organizations seemed to be all at sixes and sevens, and large numbers of the less severe cases were left to take care of themselves. I watched the Hotel du Lion being cleared of bandaged and shattered soldiers, who were being removed elsewhere. Scarcely had the last ambulance van left when a huge wagon drove up filled with crippled children, under the care of Little Sisters of the Poor, who have a sort of hospice for these unhappy young folks not far from Bruges. The children were carried into the hotel under the superintendence of some German officer. “The town was placarded with notices forbidding any civil person the possession of any kind of firearms, and ordering all householders to be indoors, and all lights out by 9 o’clock at night The revelry that has marked the conduct of the German soldiers In other towns in their occupation was here totally absent The soldiers moving In and out in constant procession, all looked anxious, tired and harassed, as though some dark fate which they could not understand was hanging over them. They were constantly looking behind them, furtively, suspiciously. No hilarious foregathering at the cases, no drinking, no uproariousness, but everything strangely, almost uncannily quiet “The military commandant evidently noticed this. If worried him, and he ordered a regimental band to form up In the Petit place and to play enlivening music. The band obeyed and began playing dolorous- jigs, with absolutely no jig in them. There was no music, in the brass melody; the music was ridiculously like that of those painful German bands which used to make us all so sad in London in the glad days when there was no war. Finally the commandant stamped and ground his teeth and sent out the order that if the band could do no better than that they bad better stop. They could not do better, so they Stopped. “On the way out of town I met a German soldier with his arm and head dreadfully shattered. His bandages had slipped and he, was trying vainly to replace them with his left hand. I took pity on him and helped him, redressed the nasty wounds and rebandaged them with pocket bandges I happened to have with me. The soldier fumbled in his pocket and at last found a crumpled 5-franc note, which he offered me. Of course, I refused it. “‘Why do you refuse good money for a good action, madameT* he said. * ‘Because I am an En glishwoman,* 1 replied, ‘and Englishwomen do not take payment for good deeds, however small or great they may be.’ “ ‘I cannot believe you ‘are English,* he said, ‘but you are an-angel, angels have no nationality. May I kiss your hand?’ “I held out my hand and he bent low over and kissed it There were tears in his eyes. And—l rather wish now that I had accepted that b-franc note to keep as a souvenir of Prussian gratitude.-