In order to grasp the true significance of the events which preceded
and led up to the fall of Antwerp, it is necessary to understand the
extraordinary conditions which existed in and around that city when I
reached there in the middle of August. At that time all that was left to
the Belgians of Belgium were the provinces of Limbourg, Antwerp,
and East and West Flanders. Everything else was in the possession
of the Germans. Suppose, for the sake of, having things quite clear,
that you unfold the map of Belgium. Now, with your pencil, draw a
line across the country from east to west, starting at the Dutch city
of Maastricht and passing through Hasselt, Diest, Aerschot, Malines,
Alost, and Courtrai to the French frontier. This line was, roughly
speaking, "the front," and for upwards of two months fighting of a
more or less serious character took place along its entire length.
During August and the early part of September this fighting
consisted, for the most part, of attempts by the Belgian field army to
harass the enemy and to threaten his lines of communication and of
counter-attacks by the Germans, during which Aerschot, Malines,
Sempst, and Termonde repeatedly changed hands. Some twenty
miles or so behind this line was the great fortified position of
Antwerp, its outer chain of forts enclosing an area with a radius of
nearly fifteen miles.
Antwerp, with its population of four hundred thousand souls, its
labyrinth of dim and winding streets lined by mediaeval houses, and
its splendid modern boulevards, lies on the east bank of the
Scheldt, about fifteen miles from Dutch territorial waters, at a
hairpin-turn in the river. The defences of the city were modern,
extensive, and generally believed, even by military experts, to be
little short of impregnable. In fact, Antwerp was almost universally
considered one of the three or four strongest fortified positions in
Europe. In order to capture the city it would be necessary for an
enemy to break through four distinct lines of defence, any one of
which, it was believed, was strong enough to oppose successfully
any force which could be brought against it. The outermost line of
forts began at Lierre, a dozen miles to the south-east of the city,
and swept in a great quarter-circle, through Wavre-St. Catherine,
Waelhem, Heyndonck and Willebroeck, to the Scheldt at Ruppelmonde.
Two or three miles behind this outer line of forts a
second line of defence was formed by the Ruppel and the Nethe,
which, together with the Scheldt, make a great natural waterway
around three sides of the city. Back of these rivers, again, was a
second chain of forts completely encircling the city on a five-mile
radius. The moment that the first German soldier set his foot on
Belgian soil the military authorities began the herculean task of
clearing of trees and buildings a great zone lying between this inner
circle of forts and the city ramparts in order that an investing force
might have no cover. It is estimated that within a fortnight the
Belgian sappers and engineers destroyed property to the value of
L16,000,000. Not San Francisco after the earthquake, nor Dayton
after the flood, nor Salem after the fire presented scenes of more
complete desolation than did the suburbs of Antwerp after the
soldiers had finished with them.
On August 1, 1914, no city in all Europe could boast of more
beautiful suburbs than Antwerp. Hidden amid the foliage of great
wooded parks were stately chateaux; splendid country-houses rose
from amid acres of green plush lawns and blazing gardens; the
network of roads and avenues and bridle-paths were lined with
venerable trees, whose branches, meeting overhead, formed leafy
tunnels; scattered here and there were quaint old-world villages,
with plaster walls and pottery roofs and lichen-covered church
spires. By the last day of August all this had disappeared. The
loveliest suburbs in Europe had been wiped from the earth as a
sponge wipes figures from a slate. Every house and church and