" "That makes no difference," he
said. "He is responsible." My husband was taken off. My son,
who was at my side, took us into another cellar. The same aide
de camp came and dragged him out and made him walk in front of
him, kicking him as he went. The poor boy could hardly walk.
That morning when they came to the town the Germans had fired
through the windows of the houses, and a bullet had come into
the room where my son was, and he had been wounded in the calf
by the ricochet. After my husband and son had gone I was
dragged all through the house by Germans, with their revolvers
leveled at my head. I was compelled to see their dead General.
Then my daughter and I were thrown into the street without
cloaks or anything. We were massed in the Grand Place,
surrounded by a cordon of soldiers, and compelled to witness
the destruction of our beloved town. And then, by the hideous
light of the fire, I saw them for the last time, about 1 in
the morning, my husband and my boy tied together. My
brother-in-law was behind them. They were being led out to
execution.
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