We then walked straight along the Malines road, and I was just remarking
to my companion that it was odd we should not have met a single German
soldier, when we came into a village that was certainly full of them. It
was about 11 o'clock and apparently their dinner hour, for they were all
hurrying out of a door with cans full of appetizing stew in their hands.
They took no notice of us and we walked on, but very soon came to a
sandy piece of ground where a good many soldiers were entrenched and
where others were busily putting up barbed-wire entanglements. They
looked at us rather curiously but did not stop us, and we went on.
Suddenly we came to a village where a hot skirmish was going on, two
Belgian and German outposts had met. Some mitrailleuses were there in
the field beside us, and the sound of rifle fire was crackling in the
still autumn air. There was nothing to do but to go forward, so we went
on through the village, and presently saw four German soldiers running
up the street. It is not a pretty sight to see men running away. These
men were livid with terror and gasping with deep breaths as they ran.
One almost brushed against me as he passed, and then stopped for a
moment, and I thought he was going to shoot us.
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