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 EDITORIAL BOARD

Professor Erik J. Sorensen

Department of Chemistry
Frick Laboratory
Princeton University
Washington Road
Princeton, NJ, USA

Professor Dirk Trauner

Department of Chemistry
New York University
100 Washington Square East
New York, NY, USA

Professor Frederick G. West

Department of Chemistry
University of Alberta
Gunning-Lemieux Chemistry Centre E3-43
Edmonton, Alberta
Canada

Professor Craig M. Williams

School of Chemistry and Molecular Biosciences
University of Queensland Brisbane
Queensland, Australia

Professor Pauline Chiu

Department of Chemistry
The University of Hong Kong
Pokfulam Road, Hong Kong

Dr. Jean Suffert

Universite de Strasbourg
Faculte de Pharmacie
Laboratoire d’Innovation Therapeutique
Equipe SOMP
(UMR 7200 CNRS/UDS)
Illkirch Cedex, France
Strategies and Tactics
in Organic Synthesis

Volume 15

Edited by
Michael Harmata
University of Missouri,
Columbia, MO, United States
Elsevier
Radarweg 29, PO Box 211, 1000 AE Amsterdam, Netherlands
The Boulevard, Langford Lane, Kidlington, Oxford OX5 1GB, United Kingdom
50 Hampshire Street, 5th Floor, Cambridge, MA 02139, United States
Copyright © 2021 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any
information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
publisher. Details on how to seek permission, further information about the Publisher’s
permissions policies and our arrangements with organizations such as the Copyright
Clearance Center and the Copyright Licensing Agency, can be found at our website:
www.elsevier.com/permissions.

This book and the individual contributions contained in it are protected under
copyright by the Publisher (other than as may be noted herein).
Notices
Knowledge and best practice in this field are constantly changing. As new research and
experience broaden our understanding, changes in research methods, professional
practices, or medical treatment may become necessary.
Practitioners and researchers must always rely on their own experience and knowledge
in evaluating and using any information, methods, compounds, or experiments
described herein. In using such information or methods they should be mindful of
their own safety and the safety of others, including parties for whom they have a
professional responsibility.
To the fullest extent of the law, neither the Publisher nor the authors, contributors, or
editors, assume any liability for any injury and/or damage to persons or property as a
matter of products liability, negligence or otherwise, or from any use or operation of
any methods, products, instructions, or ideas contained in the material herein.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress

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A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978-0-12-822212-6
ISSN: 1874-6004

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 Dedication

This volume is dedicated to the memory of

my collaborator and friend, Victor Snieckus,
August 1, 1937eDecember 18, 2020.
Contributors

Wen-Ju Bai, Amgen Research, One Amgen Center Drive, Thousand Oaks, CA, United
States
Korey Bedard, Brock University, St. Catharines, ON, Canada
Tanner W. Bingham, Department of Chemistry, University of Illinois, Urbana, IL,
United States
Gaëlle Blond, Université de Strasbourg, CNRS Strasbourg, France
Reinhard Brückner, Institut für Organische Chemie, Albert-Ludwigs-Universität,
Freiburg, Germany
Eric M. Ferreira, Department of Chemistry, University of Georgia, Athens, GA,
United States
Saswata Gupta, Department of Chemistry, University of Illinois at Chicago, Chicago,
IL, United States
Lucas W. Hernandez, Department of Chemistry, University of Illinois, Urbana, IL,
United States
Tomas Hudlicky, Brock University, St. Catharines, ON, Canada
Stephen K. Jackson, OmegaChem, Lévis, QC, Canada
Phil C. Knutson, Department of Chemistry, University of North Carolina at Chapel
Hill, Chapel Hill, NC, United States
Julia Kopp, Institut für Organische Chemie, Albert-Ludwigs-Universität, Freiburg,
Germany
Daesung Lee, Department of Chemistry, University of Illinois at Chicago, Chicago, IL,
United States
Christopher C. McAtee, Department of Chemistry, University of Michigan, Ann
Arbor, MI, United States
Ryan P. Murelli, Department of Chemistry, Brooklyn College, The City University of
New York, Brooklyn, NY, United States; PhD Program in Chemistry, The Graduate
Center, The City University of New York, New York, NY, United States; PhD
Program in Biochemistry, The Graduate Center, The City University of New York,
New York, NY, United States
Eric T. Newcomb, Pfizer Boulder Research and Development, Boulder, CO, United
States
Thomas R.R. Pettus, Department of Chemistry and Biochemistry, University of
California, Santa Barbara, CA, United States

xv
xvi Contributors

David Sarlah, Department of Chemistry, University of Illinois, Urbana, IL, United

States
Corinna S. Schindler, Department of Chemistry, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor,
MI, United States
Jean Suffert, Université de Strasbourg, CNRS Strasbourg, France
David R. Williams, Department of Chemistry, Indiana University, Bloomington, IN,
United States
Xu Zhu, Department of Chemistry, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, MI, United
States; College of Pharmacy, Xuzhou Medical University, Xuzhou, Jiangsu, China
Preface

How did he manage to retain his youth? Victor Snieckus appeared to be

eternally young and forever filled with enough energy to make many who were
younger be somewhat envious. He was old enough (barely) to be my dad, but
he often seemed like an older brother. He had a twinkle in his eye. Yet with all
that vim, vigor, and mischief, he was in many ways old school. He demanded
rigor in scientific thought and action, and he was very serious about organic
chemistry. One could not turn out bad trying to emulate him. It was a sad day
when I recently learned he had died. I felt it keenly as a personal loss; I wanted
more time to talk with him, learn more about him, and learn more about
chemistry from him. Vic, Kenneth Wärnmark, and I had a collaboration
involving Tröger’s base that continued nearly 15 years in total, with the latest
publication in our series appearing in mid-2020 in ARKIVOC. This was a
highlight of my professional life.
A little over a month before he died, Vic sent me and several others an
email with a link to a skit from Stephen Colbert’s show celebrating the defeat
of Trump. It was great. The cruelty, lies, and incompetence had been driven
from office, by a clear majority, yet far too few, of my fellow Americans. Still,
the deed was done, and Vic celebrated. So did I.
Vic did not live to see the tragedy of 1/6/21 in the United States, a day on
which many US citizens hoped to defeat the electoral process because of their
addiction to lies and their fear of true suffrage for all, and mostly their fear of
the loss of white supremacy. But in all fairness, the idea of superiority, caste,
class.whatever you wish to call it.is not unique to the United States. It is
everywhere, sometimes overt, always covert. Purging ourselves of this poison
is not a trivial task.
Vic also did not live to see a change in Senate leadership in the United
States. I have no doubt that he would have been pleased by this, a chance for
the United States to begin to redeem itself after 4 years of leadership which
treated lies as facts for the sake of power, and did everything in its power to
reject reason, whether in the form of science or just simple common sense.
Were I Canadian as was Vic, I would have been quite concerned about the
monsters living in my basement over the last 4 years. As it was, I was just
depressed to be in a country that had a sociopath as a leader with a huge
number of mindless zealots following him, many worshiping a Jesus Christ

xvii
xviii Preface

wrapped in a US flag, carrying an AR-15. Sick but dangerous people. Here’s to

creating a civil and just society for all. Vic would have wanted this, I believe.
Now, on to some science. In case it is not known, this is going to be my last
Strategies and Tactics in Organic Synthesis. Trying to get authors for the series
has been a serious challenge, a problem with which I no longer desire to be
afflicted. Hydrocortisone and sitz baths do not help. A perk arising from that
decision is that I got to fire the entire editorial board. Am I president yet? I
didn’t think so. In any case, it has been a pleasure to bear witness to volumes
of beautiful, stimulating chemistry over these many years.
I do want to thank all those who contributed to this volume. My hope to go
out on a bang with a record number of chapters was thwarted by SARS-CoV-2
and the havoc it has and is wreaking even at this writing, but some colleagues
got in under the wire and others battled, at least one, through a COVID
infection, to deliver some nice science. Synthesis survives. Let’s make sure it
lives on for a long time by ensuring that interest and funding in the area re-
mains vibrant. Experience has led me to think that synthetic chemists are their
own worst enemies with respect to the latter. Retain high standards, but take
good care in doing so. Our dedication to helping the community through
helpful, constructive reviewing is crucial.
I would like to thank Elsevier for their continued commitment to this se-
ries. I pushed Academic Press many years ago to reboot this series and suc-
ceeded. It was great while it lasted. I have had the opportunity to work with
some wonderful people at Elsevier. Susan Ikeda and Emily McCloskey have
been key to the success of the series. I am grateful for their help and support.
Finally, I want to mention the National Science Foundation of the United
States, without which I would not have had the pleasure of engaging in
research. Their support enabled me to take on projects like this and I am
thankful.

Michael Harmata
January, 2021
Chapter 1

Amaryllidaceae isocarbostyril
alkaloids
Tanner W. Bingham, Lucas W. Hernandez and David Sarlah*
Department of Chemistry, University of Illinois, Urbana, IL, United States
*Corresponding author at: sarlah@illinois.edu.

Chapter Outline
1. Introduction 1 4. Narciclasine and lycoricidine 33
2. Synthetic strategy 12 4.1 Optimization of Ni(II)
2.1 Retrosynthetic analysis 12 conditions 33
2.2 Development of the 4.2 Initial synthesis of
dearomative narciclasine 36
carboamination reaction 12 4.3 Scalable route to
2.3 Mechanistic hypothesis 17 (þ)-lycoricidine (3) and
2.4 Optimization of our new (þ)-narciclasine (4) 40
nickel-catalyzed 4.4 Synthesis and biological
conditions 19 evaluation of C-7 analogs 42
3. Pancratistatins 21 4.5 Metabolic studies 46
3.1 Initial investigations 21 5. Conclusion 46
3.2 Optimizing the route 24 Acknowledgments 49
3.3 Methods for lactam References 49
formation 27 Further reading 52
3.4 C-7 oxidation and final
route 31

1. Introduction
The anticancer properties of crude plant extracts from the Amaryllidaceae
family have been recorded in the literature since the time of the ancient Greeks,
with Hippocrates prescribing Narcissus oils for the treatment of uterine tumors.1
Recently, the therapeutic effects of these extracts have been attributed to the
isocarbostyril alkaloids (þ)-7-deoxypancratistatin (1), (þ)-pancratistatin (2),
(þ)-lycoricidine (3), and (þ)-narciclasine (4) (Fig. 1.1). The first of this family
Strategies and Tactics in Organic Synthesis. https://doi.org/10.1016/B978-0-12-822212-6.00004-7
Copyright © 2021 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. 1
2 Strategies and Tactics in Organic Synthesis

OH OH
2
HO OH OH
1 3
10
9 10a 4a 4 O
O OH O 10b OH
NH 6 NH 5
O NH
O O 8 6a
7
R O O R O
(+)-7-deoxypancratistatin (1, R=H) (+)-lycoricidine (3, R=H)
(+)-pancratistatin (2, R=OH) (+)-narciclasine (4, R=OH)

FIGURE 1.1 The Amaryllidaceae isocarbostyril alkaloids (þ)-deoxypancratistatin (1), pan-

cratistatin (2), (þ)-lycoricidine (3), and (þ)-narciclasine (4) and their numbering.

to be isolated, (þ)-narciclasine (4), was initially investigated for its growth

inhibitory effects in plants, as placing a cut daffodil in a vase with other flowers
significantly shortens their vase life.2 After exhibiting potent antimitotic activity
against mouse sarcoma 180 cells,2 (þ)-narciclasine’s structure (4) was
determined by chemical degradation studies3 and was eventually determined by
X-ray diffraction analysis of the corresponding tetraacetate.4 The promising
activity of (þ)-narciclasine (4) prompted much interest in the isolation of other
isocarbostyril alkaloids in its family; (þ)-7-deoxynarciclasine or (þ)-lycor-
icidine (3) was eventually isolated from various species, including Hymenocallis
littoralis, which contained another structurally similar isocarbostyril, (þ)-pan-
cratistatin (2).5 These alkaloids, along with another congener, (þ)-7-
deoxypancratistatin (1), have all shown similar growth-inhibitory properties to
that of (þ)-narciclasine (4).
These interesting findings prompted Pettit and coworkers to measure the
cytotoxicity of these compounds against the NCI’s panel of 60 human cancer
cell lines.6 Narciclasine (4) exhibited the most potent activity with a mean
GI50 of 0.016 mM. Pancratistatin (2) exhibited a 5-fold decrease in activity
compared with narciclasine with a GI50 of 0.091 mM, while lycoricidine (3)
displayed a 10-fold decrease in activity with a GI50 of 0.15 mM (Table 1.1).
Interestingly, 7-deoxypancratistatin (1) also exhibited a drastic decrease in
activity with respect to pancratistatin (2), suggesting that the C-7 phenol is
important for the potency of these natural products. Furthermore, the fivefold
drop in activity due to the presence of an alcohol at the C-1 position (2 vs. 4)
indicates that hydrophilic functionality at that position is disfavored. Impor-
tantly, these cytotoxic properties were noticeably reduced in noncancerous
cells, making these molecules appealing as potential chemotherapeutics.7e9
In addition to their in vitro activity, both (þ)-pancratistatin (2) and
(þ)-narciclasine (4) have shown promising in vivo activity. Pancratistatin (2)
demonstrated significant in vivo activity against murine M-5076 ovarian sar-
coma and murine P-388 lymphocytic leukemia,5 as well as reducing the
growth of subcutaneous colon HT-29 tumors.10,11 Similarly, narciclasine (4)
displayed considerable in vivo activity against murine P-388 lymphocytic
leukemia as well as MC-38 murine colon carcinoma, and it reduced the growth
TABLE 1.1 In vitro activity of the Amaryllidaceae isocarbostyril alkaloids.a

Amaryllidaceae isocarbostyril alkaloids Chapter j 1

Mean Leukemia Pancreas Breast CNS Lung-NSC Colon Prostate
GI50 P388 BXPC-3 MCF-7 SF268 NCIeH460 KM20L2 Du-145
7-Deoxypancratistatin NT 1.420 NT NT NT NT 0.710 NT
(1)
Pancratistatin (2) 0.091 0.052 0.061 0.071 0.043 0.098 0.077 0.046
Lycoricidine (3) 0.150 0.065 0.240 0.160 0.410 0.180 0.290 0.170

Narciclasine (4) 0.016 0.042 0.011 0.010 0.010 0.027 0.011 0.011

NT, not tested.

a
IC50 and GI50 values reported in mM.

3
4 Strategies and Tactics in Organic Synthesis

of MX-1 breast carcinoma tumors,12 and invasive Hs683 and GL19 human
glioblastomas.13 Furthermore, narciclasine (4) inhibited mitosis in carcinoma,
glioma, and melanoma and was found to impair cancer cell migration.8 In
addition to their potent anticancer activity, 1e4 also showed significant anti-
viral activity against Japanese encephalitis, yellow fever, Rift Valley fever, and
dengue type 4 viruses,14 and narciclasine (4) has been found to attenuate diet-
induced obesity15 and possess antiinflammatory properties.16
Although these compounds have shown a myriad of promising activities,
their precise mode of action has yet to be uncovered. Studies suggest that
pancratistatin’s (2) anticancer activity proceeds through intrinsic apoptosis, as
evidenced by release of caspase-9 and caspase-3, exposure of phosphatidyl
serine, and destabilization of mitochondrial membrane potential.10,11,17
Interestingly, the cytotoxic activity of narciclasine (4) has been attributed to
extrinsic apoptosis as evidenced by the release of caspase-8 and the activation
of the Fas and death receptor 4 (DR4) or death-inducing signaling complex
(DISC).9 Yet, despite their structural homology, there have been no studies
directly comparing their mechanisms of action.9,18e22 Aside from its cytotoxic
activity, narciclasine has also displayed activity in various cytostatic pathways.
It has been shown to disrupt cytokinesis through two different pathways,
disruption of actin bundle formation through the binding of the translation
elongation factor eEF1A,25 and the formation of F-actin stress fibers through
the activation of GTPase RhoA.13 Additionally, narciclasine has been shown to
bind to the A-site of the 60S ribosome, thereby directly blocking peptide
synthesis.23,24 Notably, many of these promising activities of 4 have yet to be
shown for 2, thus necessitating further investigation and comparison of these
compounds and their structureeactivity relationships (SAR).
To fully elucidate their mechanism(s) of action and promote their pre-
clinical development, scalable access to isocarbostyrils 1e4 was needed.
Various isolation protocols for narciclasine (4) are reported in the literature,
mostly from the bulbs of the Narcissus plant, the yields of which can range
from 30 to 200 mg/kg depending on the species and time of year.19 When
harvested from the Hawaiian wilderness, Hymenocallis litoralis is the highest
yielding source of 2 (144 mg/kg) and 3 (222 mg/kg).5 However, when culti-
vated in fields and greenhouses in Arizona, the isolation yield dropped
significantly to 22 mg/kg for 2 and 15 mg/kg for 3 in the peak month of
October. This lack of availability has inhibited the investigations into their
bioactivities. Additionally, although the initial studies into these compounds
revealed their potential use as therapeutics, such as their notoriously low
aqueous solubility, there are drawbacks to overcome for these compounds to
become medicinally relevant.26
Owing to the lack of scalable access and the need for further biological
evaluations, as well as their structural complexity, 1e4 have attracted
considerable attention from the synthetic community. To date, there have been
11,27e38 13,30,39e50 14,27,38,51e62 and 843,57,62e67 syntheses of 1e4,
 Amaryllidaceae isocarbostyril alkaloids Chapter j 1 5

respectively, as well as many formal, semi, epi-, and analog syntheses pub-
lished over the years.18e22 As such, there have been various strategies
developed for installing the correct stereocenters on the cyclitol core and
constructing the lactam ring. One notable approach, reported by the Hudlicky
group in 1992, involves the use of microbial arene oxidation to stereo-
selectively install the syn-diol present on the cyclitol core (Scheme 1.1),54
subjecting bromobenzene (5) to the bacterial dioxygenases of Pseudomonas
putida, followed by acetonide protection of the resulting diol-delivered diene
6. Subsequent stereoselective [4 þ 2] cycloaddition of diene 6 with an acyl
nitroso species provided bicycle 7a, which contains all the stereocenters
present in the cyclitol core of (þ)-lycoricidine (3). Reduction of the bromide
followed by cleavage of the NeO bond was accomplished with mercury
aluminum amalgam. Silyl protection followed by imide formation with
2-bromo-piperonyloyl chloride furnished key intermediate 9a. Closure of the
lactam was attempted with various methods including radical cyclization,
epoxide-opening, and the Pd-catalyzed Heck reaction. Ultimately, they found
that the modified Heck conditions, initially reported by Grigg and co-
workers,68 and optimized for a diastereomer of 9 by Chida and coworkers,53
were the only conditions that could provide the benzolactam. However, the
product was isolated as a mixture of fully protected, desilylated, and free
amide products. Fortunately, these could be isolated together and subjected to
global deprotection to furnish lycoricidine 3 in 9 steps and 25% yield overall.
Notably, 3 years later, Hudlicky was able to take advantage of this same
strategy of microbial arene oxidation for his synthesis of (þ)-pancratistatin.
Stereoselective aziridination followed by radical dehalogenation of diene 6
provided vinyl aziridine 7b. Installment of the necessary trans relationship
between the arene and amine then became possible by the nucleophilic ring
opening of the aziridine at the allylic position by cuprate 8b. Arylated inter-
mediate 9b was then further elaborated to yield (þ)-pancratistatin (1) in the
first asymmetric total synthesis in 14 steps and 2% overall yield. These
landmark total syntheses were the state-of-the-art before we started our work
on these molecules, and they demonstrated the power of dearomative pro-
cesses for the rapid introduction of complexity to feedstock petrochemical
starting materials.
Key steps in other notable approaches to this family of natural products are
shown in Fig. 1.2. In Trost’s 1995 synthesis of (þ)-pancratistatin, a desym-
metrization reaction was employed to define three existing stereocenters and
install a fourth in the product 12.41 In 1998, Magnus applied a beazidonation
strategy toward (þ)-pancratistatin, to yield allylic azide 14.42 Rigby reported
an interesting photocyclization approach in 2000.15 While the absolute ste-
reochemistry was dictated by the TBS protected alcohol in 15, the required
relative stereochemistry was imparted by the 6p-conrotatory photochemical
cyclization and subsequent suprafacial [1,5]-H shift to yield product 16. In
2009, Madsen utilized a Zn-mediated fragmentation to afford diene 19 that
 6 Strategies and Tactics in Organic Synthesis
OH O
O Bu4NIO4 Br 1. PhI=NTs, O 8b
O AlH2(Hg) Br O Cu(acac)2 BF3·Et2O O O
CbzNHOH O
THF CH2Cl2 2. Bu3SnH, O 75% NHTs
O TsN O
91% O 74% O AIBN CONMe2
NHCbz N 42% OTBS
8a Cbz 7a 6 7b 9b

1. P. putida 39/D1 Cu(CN)Li2

1. ClSiMe2i-Pr, im. 85% 2. 2,2-DMP O
CH2Cl2 2 1. s-BuLi
pTsOH
76% 2. n O (Boc)2O 56%
CONMe2
then, 2-bromo- Br 2. Na/anthracene
piperonyloyl chloride OTBS
8b

OSiMe2iPr OH 5 OH
O
O OH HO OH
1. Pd(OAc)2 7 steps
Br TlOAc, DIPHOS O O
O O O O OH
2. Pd/C, EtOH OH NHBoc
NCbz cyclohexene NH NH O CONMe2
O O O
OH
O 23% O OH O
9a (+)-lycoricidine (3) (+)-pancratistatin (1) 10
9 steps 10% overall yield 14 steps 2% overall yield

SCHEME 1.1 Hudlicky’s dearomative approach to (þ)-lycoricidine (3) and (þ)-pancratistatin (2).
Trost - 1995 Magnus- 1998
OTIPS OTIPS
OCO2Me OCO2Me PhIO
(pC3H7PdCl)2 (0.5 mol%)
O O TMSN3
(R,R)-DACH-phenyl (0.75 mol%) Ar Ar
95%
O TMSN3 O N3
O
82% 13 Ar = 14
OCO2Me N3 O
11 12 OMe
Madsen - 2009
Rigby - 2000 O OMe
O O
TBSO hn TBSO I
OH
Zn
30% O TESO OBn
17 THF, O OBn
O NPMB O NPMB O Br H2O, MeOH O
O

Amaryllidaceae isocarbostyril alkaloids Chapter j 1

30%
O O O O O CO2Me
H 15 H 16 OBn O 19
18
OBn
OTBS OTBS OH
Yan - 2002 Keck - 1999 OH
O AcO O PhS O
O O
O O 1. SnCl4, CH2Cl2 O O O O O
O PhSH, hn
O NH 2. Ac2O, K2CO3 O NH O PhMe NOBn
O NOBn O
98% 90%
Et2N O Et2N O OMe O
20 21
O O 22 23

OMOM
Padwa - 2007 Banwell - 2007 OMOM
OH
MeO2C SnBu3 OH
O Br OMOM
16 MeO2C O
O IO O B NH2
27
CuCl/Pd(0) O O O OH
LiCl, DMSO 1. Pd(PPh3)4, K2CO3, mwave
O NPMB O NPMB O NH
O 2. BSBr O
82%
O O 30% over
24 25 MOMO OMe OH O ent-4
26 two steps

7
FIGURE 1.2 Selected approaches toward the Amaryllidaceae isocarbostyril alkaloids.
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
At one village a swarm of little dark-eyed Flemings, in sabots,
pretended to shoot us with large bows and arrows made of half-
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through and over.
Nowhere had the news been received; everywhere the blind is still
kept down. It is a dangerous game to play, with men raging as I
have heard them the last few days. But the result may justify it.
It is no good recalling the shadow moments of pain and tragedy that
cover like a cloud even the small corner which one man may see of
this destruction and panic called war.
Every event is out of proportion, impossible. The dead body one
stumbles over is no more real or important than the bad-mannered
shop-keeper who is doing his best as a civic sentinel. One thinks of
nothing but the chance of the next fantastic incident; and if it comes
as a death or as a child crying, it seems equally serious, equally
foolish, equally without origin or relation to the next event.
In the course of these two days, started so peacefully, it will be seen
that we have been involved in the French retreat on the west, in the
Prussian flood and the dramatic evacuation in the centre, in a corner
of the last battle at Louvain, on the east, in the evening, the
morning entry of the enemy to occupy Brussels, and finally in the
east of the flight to the south. If we put the facts of the last few
days together, so far as we know them, without going outside official
information, this seems to be about the position:
The German northern army, profiting perhaps even more than we
did by the check at Liége, had two possible alternatives, supposing
their objective to be Brussels, and the "hole" on the frontier by Mons
and Charleroi. And Brussels was necessary, to re-affirm their credit in
Berlin.
The first alternative was through by Gembloux, Quatre Bras, and
Genappe, avoiding the forest of Soignes. This would have struck the
weak link between the French advanced force, in the neighbourhood
of Sombreffe, and the Belgian lines from Wavre to Diest.
The second was to push north, along the frontier, to Hasselt, and
break through the Belgian left before it could be reinforced by the
French, threatening both Antwerp and Brussels.
This was their choice. They were aware that the French could not
push up rapidly enough to establish the link firmly, or in great
enough numbers to be able to reinforce the menaced left wing.
The French, nevertheless, did some very fine marches in order to
profit by the splendid Belgian resistance at Liége and Haelen. But it
was too late for the change of plan. When I was among them, at
Mazy and Gembloux and Perwez, it seemed as if they were in time
to force the Germans to take the more southerly line, and face them
and the Belgian arc on their north. The Germans knew better. Under
screen of their scattered Uhlans, here and there all over the country,
forcing the Belgians, always in inferior numbers, to expand and
contract as their attacks were located, they moved a far larger force
than was estimated across the Meuse. Behind their pause at Liége
they converted the hastily mobilised inferior troops, whom the
Belgians had learned to despise, into the engine of magnificent
equipment and pace that is now launched across Belgium.
This has pushed rapidly north, by motor, ahead of the French; and
by sheer weight of numbers, hurling columns in mass, at great
sacrifice of life, has broken the Belgian left at Diest and Aerschot in
the terrific fights of the last two days.
The French made great efforts to get up, and actually got a certain
number by forced marches far enough to take the places of
decimated Belgian regiments in the line. But the smashing numbers
and artillery made the Belgian position, in its open trenches and
entanglements on easy country, impossible. Their left once turned,
the small Belgian army had no choice but to fall back on Malines and
Antwerp. They had to choose between defending Brussels, to keep
the link with the French, and covering Antwerp, which opened the
road to Brussels. Antwerp was obviously the more important, and
better prepared for defence. Brussels must have been destroyed in a
siege, with immense loss of life to the huge numbers who have
swarmed into it.
Wavre and all the district where I was travelling to and fro yesterday
was therefore evacuated, as the Belgians retired north. Their
retirement compelled a synchronous falling back of the French upon
the Sambre, to protect their own left wing when the link with the
Belgians was broken.
The Germans obtained free passage both on the east and south to
Brussels. The rapidity of their progress is evidenced by the fact that
when I passed round west of Brussels to-day, advance cavalry
patrols were already reported in the neighbourhood of Oudenarde
(about 35 miles west of Brussels, towards Lille).
It will be seen that, on paper at least, the Belgian army is in no
pleasant position. If the Germans continue to press northward on
their left flank, the Belgians will constantly have to be wheeling to
their own left front, to face them on the east. They will be forced to
retreat until they rest upon Malines and Antwerp.
At the same time any small force of Germans left in Brussels is
largely out of the game. The Belgians threaten their northern
communications. The farther the Germans push north, to Ghent or
Ostend, the more danger that their lines can be cut. All depends
whether this German northern advance is merely an army of
occupation, to subdue Belgium, or the main army of advance upon
France. In the latter case, it will not now be stopped this side of the
frontier.
Ostend, Saturday night.
To-day the German flood has advanced with extraordinary rapidity.
The Belgian army is for the moment off the board. At express speed
and with clockwork regularity the country is being occupied. We
know now that this must be the main army of attack.
Sweeping from the east by three routes, and through and past
Brussels, the main German advance has turned south-west. Passing
close to Waterloo and through Hal it is directed against the frontier
between Valenciennes and Maubeuge. A lighter cavalry column is
passing further north, as if towards Lille.
The main advance, since my encounter with it at Cortinbeck and at
Waterloo, on the morning after the battle of Louvain and Aerschot, it
has been impossible to follow. But to-day I took the region from the
French frontier, on the west of Brussels, with some idea of "beating
all the bounds" of what is left of our surrendered but unoccupied
country. For, with the exception of the section from Malines to
Antwerp, Belgium has been surrendered, the troops on the way have
been disbanded, and the Civic Guard has been discharged. At Alost
yesterday I met many of them, dismissed from Brussels, but still in
uniform and anxious for news. To-day I came across them again in
Ghent, further reduced and in mufti. In many cases their wives have
insisted on destroying their uniforms.
I looked forward to a restful day in the Flemish rural districts, with,
perhaps, some news of the French. I was tired of coming upon
Uhlans round corners. It is a peculiarly trying business, exploring for
an enemy, with no troops, no sound of guns, or the consequent
rumours, to warn beforehand of their proximity! It is even more
disagreeable when you have to lose your enemy again rather faster
than you have found him!
The wandering about the fertile, remote province, with its long,
shaded, cobbled roads and low-cottaged, dusty villages, was a
pleasant change. In the morning the region was still entirely
untouched by the war. The dark-eyed children, with bleached blonde
hair, in noisy sabots, swarmed like puppies in the streets and about
the car. The Civil Guard were the only distraction. In the country
fields they generally could not read at all, and waved us on, blushing
in their blue blouses. In the small towns they could read "Vlamsch,"
but no French, which irritated them. Often "Madame" had to be
called in to help, before the carts and ploughs were shoved aside.
One old peasant was particularly troublesome. He was both deaf and
blind, and behind his road-barrier of harrows he nursed a rusty
bayonet dating from Waterloo.
The only incidents of the early day were an agitated hay-cart that
upset upon us, and a line of retreating engines, at Ingelmunster,
which took the level crossing at the same moment as ourselves.
"The service is so disorganised," the station-master excused himself
for our scratched paint.
On the French frontier—near Poperinghe—we met our friends the
French. A cavalry contingent entertained us pleasantly at lunch
round the soup-pot. Satisfied of the safety of our western border, we
turned east, to cut across the noses of any advancing German
columns. My object was to discover if they were striking north to
Ostend, or direct west towards Lille, as well as south-west on their
main line. Through Ypres, Roulers, Vijve, and Deynze we ran to
Ghent. The country was still clear; the "war feeling" absent; but the
Flemish are slow to catch emotional infections.
In Ghent we met the news. The Germans had flooded incredibly
swiftly north. A column had in the morning reached Melle, just south
of Ghent. Reports of eye-witnesses of its passing put it at 70,000
cavalry. Clearly it was a fair-sized and fast column.
I felt certain that it would turn west, and not continue north to
Ostend. It must form part of a quick cavalry turning movement to
the north of the main advance on the French and British position.
We should have time to make certain later in the day. Passing
quickly through Ghent, to avoid "requisitioning" of the car, we
pushed out towards Termonde, on the east, hoping to be able to
make sure of the position of the Belgian lines also, on their new arc
of defence.
Warnings of "Uhlans" soon began to meet us in quick succession. We
touched the outposts of the Belgians, and having thus made secure
of our two frontiers, west and east, to avoid unnecessary risk we ran
back to Ghent. The Belgians are worn and have lost heavily. The
troops do not yet know where the British are. They were,
consequently, difficult to deal with.
Ghent was in the now familiar condition of crowd panic. The railway
communication had practically ceased. Disbanded soldiers were
trying to get away. The squares were crowded with anxious, waiting
people; the roads beginning to fill with the crowds of fugitives on
foot and in carts. While waiting for a few moments to talk to Belgian
friends—quickly made in time of war—occurred an unpleasing
incident. A corporal of the line, followed by three privates in uniform,
suddenly rushed across the square, their faces red and drawn with
terror, and demanded the car. The chauffeur, an old soldier, was at
once involved in fierce argument. My new-made friends faded away.
The crowd, simmering with panic and crying already of "treachery"
and "revolution," as the effect of the extent to which they have been
kept in ignorance of the military situation until too late, swarmed
round in an instant angrily.
At the words "Give it up or I fire," frantically shouted, I thought it
time to interfere. I had two bayonets at once thrust against my
chest.
"Where do you wish to be taken, friend?" He growled the name of
some village on the French frontier. The position grew clearer. He
was one of the "disbanded" escaping to his home. There were many,
all about us, but in civilian clothes.
"I will take you, in uniform, to any place you choose at the front; but
no law compels me to carry fugitives." ("Fuyards" is much stronger.)
"Get into clothes like mine, and I'll drop you at any (sacré) hiding-
hole that suits you."
The effect on the crowd was electric. The soldiers faded; and we
left, after a proper interval, to let the crowd cool down.
Not a quarter of a mile to the west of Ghent, where the roads were
spotted with carts of escaping households, an enormous Franciscan
monk blocked the road, with uplifted cross. "Stop, and take us, in
the name of the Virgin." He was supporting two wounded soldiers. It
appeared that, in foolish panic, all the private hospitals had been
emptied. "Sauve qui peut" was the word. The sick and wounded
soldiers, many from Liége, dressed in any odd civilian clothes, were
being turned out on to the roads to find their way to remote homes.
We bundled them in; took them to the nearest railway line; flagged
a train at a level crossing, and sent them off, with breathless
blessings from the railway window. But the roads were full of them:
men limping, men almost crawling, without money, and with only
the dangerous soldier's "pass" to carry them to their villages, already
held by the enemy.
For many hours we had given up our purpose of localising the
column, and travel backwards and forwards over the province,
scattering them far and wide in remote villages, either to their wives,
or often in the care of kindly women, who would pretend to be their
wives or mothers, in safer places. The strange panic feeling had now
spread wide. Everywhere were the little swarms of subdued people,
with puzzled, sullen faces, seen in forlorn villages. The cottages were
emptying, shop-windows being hurriedly covered, and signs hastily
painted out.
The Civil Guard, disbanded, were being confusedly shoved into
civilian dress by their terror-stricken wives and daughters.
Occasionally I had to sit and make explanatory conversations in the
market places to knots of depressed Flemish civic fathers, who
would otherwise have made even more difficulty about our frequent
journeyings. "Where are the English?" "Who has betrayed us?" "Why
have we been kept in the dark, and now find ourselves helpless?"—
all of them unanswerable questions.
It became peculiarly difficult to keep up such talk, when, later in the
day, every quarter-hour would come a rush of clogs down the street,
and the roar of "They're coming!" The elders melted miraculously,
and I was left in the empty street facing a row of half-filled beer
glasses, and the thought that it might be true this time.
Towards evening we ran into the French outposts again, at Ypres.
They are well over the frontier, and ready.
We turned north at last in the dark, realising that even in these few
hours the tide of Germans had almost cut us off, even from the
coast. No province was to be left us by the immense efficiency of the
machine. It was moving now over undefended country. It has been
notably revised since Liége.
But a cry from a dark group under the dark trees on a lonely twelve
miles of road again stopped us: "Nous avons peur" (we are afraid)
wailed sadly, as we shot past. Two wounded soldiers, with two
children who had been to visit them. They, like many others, were
from the heroic Liége forts. They would be safe at their homes in
Courtrai. On the road, wandering, as many more were, right across
the German line of advance, they were in considerable danger.
To run for Courtrai was to run from the French lines, directly at the
head of the probable German advance.
Peasants, however, assured us that nothing had been seen; and it
would complete our locating of the positions of all the armies in this
corner of the world, if we found trace of the enemy.
It was an exhilarating night run. Still the knots of folk at the corners,
but now even the children were silent.
We dropped them, our last load, at the cross road entering Courtrai.
The car was turned to come back; when, from far down the other
branch, towards Deynze, came the roar of a racing car at full speed,
devouring the silence. Half a mile off sounded a shot, and again two,
nearer us, a little later. We started to move, and in a few seconds a
car with three Belgians in uniform rushed past us. One lay back, and
his arm was being bound up by his companion. They shouted
warning. "They are back there: we have come over one." And again:
"Look out! There are more in front!"
We did our best to keep up with them—a rather wild race in the
dark, on roads straight but rough, for long black miles at a time.
They drew ahead, but this served also to draw the fire from us.
Twice again a shot sounded sharply in front. But we only had the
half-gleam of the lamps on a shadow-man and a frightened shadow-
horse, when we, in turn, passed the Uhlan patrols who had fired.
It was not worth continuing as far as the French lines, clearly the
object of the car ahead. We turned off on the first good diagonal to
the north. We had learned what we wished. These were the usual
Uhlans clearing the ground; ahead of an advance to the west; not
for the present to the north.
The return to Ostend all through the night was strange in its quieter
fashion. The Flemish peasant, once he is frightened or suspicious,
becomes a dangerous man. We had serious difficulties at infinite
numbers of barriers. And always the halt brought round a muttering,
shuffling swarm of hostile faces and voices. Along the roads we
passed small carts and wagons, creaking slowly with families of
fugitives. There was no reason for any one to fly in view of the
general surrender, but suspicion and panic were spreading, and
stories of German savagery wildly exaggerated and widely believed.
Occasionally the lights glanced off long lines of black-shawled
women, returning from night pilgrimages to more potent saints. In
the middle of long black stretches of lonely road we passed suddenly
before open shrines, blazing with votive tapers. Near big villages, in
the larger shrines the heads of many children were silhouetted
sharply against the dazzling altars. Generally a ring of kneeling
women outside shut the children in; and the momentary sound of
chanting came and went as we passed.
At a crossing a train, without lights, crept back timidly towards
Ghent. At another, seven trains in succession went past, full of
volunteers shipped to the French frontier. A car, with the windows
smashed by bullets, deserted under the trees, told of the passing of
more Uhlans. We half expected to find the Uhlans already here when
we returned; but it was only the exit of carts and carriages of
luggage that interrupted our race in, near midnight. We had started
to define the boundaries left to us, and before our return very little
was left us but the sea!
England, Sunday.
Arriving at midnight at Ostend, I found myself "almost the very last"
foreign inhabitant. The Uhlans had been reported at twenty miles;
we had seen them at thirty; they were expected at any hour. Of the
method of my leaving, and of the episode of the dramatic visit of the
Fleet the next day, the time has not yet come to write.
The placid river under Rochester Castle, two days later, in very
tranquil sunlight, is the last memory picture of this phase. The peace
atmosphere of England hit the senses like a thick, pleasant vapour.
The sensation was actually physical. I have experienced it again, at
every subsequent crossing in or out of the countries at war.

CHAPTER VII
Antwerp and Malines
The passage of the great armies across the frontier and through
eastern France could not be approached. For the moment, west
Flanders, behind the German lines, offered no comfortable footing.
There seemed a prospect, however, that Antwerp might be
immediately besieged. My journey there was further justified by the
chance of discharging a useful public mission. I started by Flushing;
spent a day sailing with some Zeeland fishermen; and thence, as the
railway to Antwerp was interrupted, completed the journey by boat
and irregular transport.
Saint Nicholas, Friday.
Holland is friendly. There is only one opinion among the fishermen,
sailors, and peasants of the south.
Picturesque fellows they are, with their black caps, mahogany faces,
earrings, and gold brooches; and the women, with their white head-
dresses, black silk wings, and brown necks and arms, with coral and
gold bangles.
No doubt in their minds. 'Anything but the German flag! We'll stay as
we are, if possible. If not, we'll be English for preference!'
The Dutch soldiers on the frontier take the same view: 'Any fate but
Prussia!' But they have a fear: 'In other countries this is an officer's
war; not of the people. Who knows what 'they' will decide up there!
But, as far as we have a voice, no traffic with Germany!'—and then
usually follows an anecdote concerning a recent civic snub to a
member of the royal family, which need not be set out.
There is strong repudiation of the story that German troops have
been allowed across Dutch Limburg: 'They were refugees, all who
passed; and, of course, we welcome all such. Why, we even have
the German Crown Prince's family at the Hague.' (This is generally
believed!)
A Dutch fishing-smack, with an Irish skipper, put me across
yesterday, Thursday, on to the south bank of the Scheldt. A warm
sleepy sunset, and a drowsy peaceful little toy port.
A burst of warlike energy had carried the fishermen as far as the
making of wire entanglements; but gaps, large enough for the
passing of the stouter burghers, had been considerately left.
I travelled some distance on a goods truck. When it halted, a few
idle, polite sentries, anxious to avoid responsibility, passed me on to
a cavalry patrol. Pleasant, talkative fellows, they handed me over in
turn, on the frontier, to a company of mounted Belgian volunteers
with whom they had been fraternising.
These had as yet seen no fighting themselves; but there was only
one subject of talk, the Highlanders: 'There are 20,000 of them, and
they pipe all the time! At Mons they played while the rest shot, and
the pipers can play with one hand and shoot with the other; it must
be terrible!' I had this story ten times over.
And again, of the British: 'They are uncanny fellows! Why, even in
hopeless positions on a retreat they never go on retiring till they are
told to!'
The patrol was without its officer. It is a tragic little episode,
illustrative of the conditions of war. His mother was Dutch; and she
lay dying just across the frontier, in Holland. As a Belgian officer, he
could not cross to see her in uniform or with arms, or he would be
imprisoned. If he crossed as a civilian, he would be treated as a
deserter. He was away, trying, in vain, to get some relaxation of the
laws governing neutral territory. Only a mile or two off, and yet he
must be too late.
As no passenger train to Antwerp would leave before next day, one
of my new friends packed me into a van, one of a long train of vans
on trucks going up with supplies to the front. The intention was to
join the main line at St. Nicholas, and take the train thence in the
morning to Antwerp. But as the supply train ran on to near Malines,
there was every reason for going with it.
A few of the Malines residents were creeping back, in the dusk, to
the empty town. The Belgians have shown remarkable pertinacity in
these 'interval' returns. A father and son, sleeping in their cart on
the road, gave me a lift into the town.
Malines was deserted. It was the night of an interval between the
retirement of the Germans and the resumption of advance by the
Belgians. But the German bombardment continued, directed
obviously at the destruction of the church and the empty buildings.
At intervals the guns resumed throughout the night; but their fire
was ill-directed.
As we were threading our way through the streets, a clatter of hoofs
warned us to take shelter. We hurried into the empty church. In the
dark, through the door, we heard, and saw in the faint light, a few
peasants walking past with hands raised, driven by some mounted
Uhlans. Four of the peasants were left sitting hunched up on the
steps. After long, anxious moments the patrol clattered away, firing
wantonly at the windows of the church; and again firing in the
distance.
During our wait, to let them get clear away, there was the deafening
report of a shell bursting not far from the church; and plaster rattled
down from the roof.
Much of the town was in ruins; swaths through the houses, cleared
away to free the fire from the Belgian forts. And the prominent
buildings, public and private, had evidently provided targets for the
German guns.
To-day I heard that, while I was getting clear of the town, a very
gallant rescue was being made by four Belgian ambulance men.
They ran cars to the river, crossed a small pontoon, left by the
Germans, on foot, and succeeded in carrying eight wounded
Belgians, left in a little schoolhouse behind the German lines, back
across the pontoon to the cars. They had been lying there untended.
The Belgian troops, or what I saw of them as I worked back to the
railway this morning, seemed in excellent heart. The repulse of the
Germans two days ago, and the strength of the fortress behind
them, have gone far to remove the anxiety that inevitably followed
their heavy losses in the recent field actions and the growing
consciousness of hopelessly inferior numbers.
Many of them belonged to the fresh divisions, the flower of the
heroic little army. At last they know 'where the English are,' and
'what the French are doing,' and the vague and intimidating
hugeness of their own task has contracted to a definite, perceptible
plan of campaign.
An eye-witness tells me the retreat from Louvain was conducted in
splendid order and in high spirits. The Germans followed till they
came under the fire of the outermost fort.
To-day the little Belgians were as cordial and ready to smile as in the
first days after Liége.
In the grey morning to-day the country near the Belgian lines was
an extraordinary sight. Already the light was flashing from the water
of slight, precautionary inundations; and there are whole tracts
ready to follow suit. Chateaux destroyed, for purposes of defensive
fire; woods cut down; trees, which obstructed the ranges, hacked
away; a country already half devastated, as if by an enemy.
But the success outside Malines had reassured the peasants. They
could be seen dribbling slowly back to their cottages in unobtrusive
clusters on road and field.
A troop train, crammed with soldiers sitting close on the floor of
cattle-trucks, many of them of the volunteer army, brought me back
towards the headquarters. Troops were constantly leaving us, and
fresh truckloads being added: all in good heart, and full of individual
exploits. We were banged about, and shunted here and there among
guns and ammunition trains.
At one point the firing sounded only just across the field. The train
stopped, and several trucks emptied in little coloured floods of
soldiers into the wet fields. The men doubled in open order, just over
the edge, out of sight through the green park-like trees in the
sunlight. The scattered fire gradually drew away; and we moved
slowly on again.
Antwerp, Friday night.
At St. Nicholas, the headquarters of the General commanding on the
west, I ran again into the uneasy, strained atmosphere of the towns
near the fighting line. It was familiar at Namur and elsewhere.
Uncertainty, constant coming and going, parade, spy-mania, secrecy,
and military rule. In such places the civilian is like a child confused in
the middle of a race-course; something to be herded and scuffled
out of the way; suspicion of others is the only safe outlet for his
panic feeling. We do not know this condition yet in England. May we
never experience it! To catch an eye is to create an enemy. A sudden
movement brings a rush of the silent crowd. An outward routine; an
inward volcano of fear, mistrust, and over-strained nerves.
The soldiers at the front, if one can get there, are friendly enough.
Only for the moment, when men are going into, or are actually in
action, does the 'war-mask' make a man remote and unaccountable.
Out of action the more humorous northerner drops it gladly; the
southerner, less easily. Farther back from the front, at the anxious,
waiting, military headquarters, or in the town or village strung to
snapping point of nervous tension by the immediate uncertainty and
peril, is the danger-point for the looker-on. I made the experiment,
as an obvious stranger, of sitting outside a restaurant. In five
minutes a white-whiskered, respectable magistrate sat down
opposite, and glared dangerously. "You are a renegade!" I made no
answer. A crowd began to collect. "You are a German!" It was
dangerous to let him go on. Better attract the police than risk the
crowd. "You may have the right to question me, sir: you have none
to insult me"—and I stood up suddenly, upsetting him behind the
heavy little table. A regulation "arrest" followed; the first. In two
hours I was interrogated seven times by different descriptions of
uniformed and civilian officialdom; and three times was escorted to
various military authorities, who, at last, became not unnaturally
petulant. Finally I had to retire within doors. This is merely
illustrative of the atmosphere; for the individuals remained
undemonstrative.
Troop trains poured in and out of the station. Boy-sentries,
struggling under huge rifles, paraded the cobbles and mustered at
the corners.
At last, the single train to Antwerp. Nobody but inhabitants were
allowed to enter by it. The "word of the day" was whispered me with
infinite secrecy. The women, waiting to identify the wounded, who
passed in constant groups from the trains, swarmed over the
platform for farewells. Then a dark journey under a red moon; a
passing sight of camps, and soldiers moving without lights; spaces
of water.
And the end of it all, an easy, normal, almost careless passage into a
comfortable town, sure of itself and its defenders. For Antwerp lives
perfectly tranquilly. Only at night are the dark streets and the
unseen movement of people strange. Since the audacious, and fatal,
passage of the Zeppelin, no lights are allowed, even in windows,
after eight. It must have been a terrifying sight in the dark sky. The
brightly lighted airship close over the sleeping houses, so light that
the number on board could be reckoned. It drifted silently down
wind, over the roofs, well inside the defending circle. Then the roar
of the propeller began; the populace rushed out, and there followed
a succession of shattering explosions from its ten unseen and ill-
directed bombs. Now precautions are taken; and the great silver
pencil of the searchlight has swung and passed all to-night over our
heads.
No signs of a town besieged.
Prices low, no war feeling, a steady traffic. Only rarely the rattle of
an armoured motor through the street; for nearly all military
movements are made at night. Except for the universal error of the
withholding of news, the control of the population is admirable in its
restraint. We have no "nerves" here yet.
Antwerp, Saturday.
The Germans have been forced to keep a retaining army in front of
the Belgian lines at Malines. How big this is, it is impossible at
present to say. It seems to be no more than a retaining force,
protecting communications.
On the other hand, the Belgians have half of their army intact, some
60,000, fresh and in good heart; with the remainder of the troops
from Liége, Louvain, and Namur, now reconstituted and keen to
keep up their splendid record.
It will take an army of 150,000 to invest Antwerp, with its double
line of forts.
There is a vague rumour that a secondary and larger force is
advancing directly upon Antwerp from the east, independent of the
force already facing Malines on the south, and that the big siege
guns are being brought up. The eventuality must be contemplated.
The Landsturm (reserve army) is already at Liége. The Germans
have the reserves to spare, and it would be consistent with their
plan to follow their swift-moving columns at the front with a second
supporting army, to occupy the conquered territory, already almost
evacuated by the advanced troops, and invest Antwerp. If the troops
can be spared from Prussia and France, the effort will be made. But
not, I think, until the blow at France has failed.
The importance of Antwerp, as the final seat of the Belgian
Government and the last base from which the army can operate,
cannot be overrated. With Antwerp lost, the army, and all the
possibilities of its position upon the German flank, threatening the
communications, would be baseless; and must be forced to
surrender, or to cut its way through to Ostend.
Germany will mask Antwerp for the present. And later on a siege of
Antwerp may not be calculated in terms of Liége. There the
Germans attacked with infantry and light field-guns. They have now
brought up their heavy siege guns. The rapid fall of the forts of
Namur is the measure of the difference.
The outer line of Antwerp forts are one and a half miles apart,
alternating fort and redoubt. The silencing of one fort by the heavy
guns would leave a gap of three miles, through which troops could
be poured.
The Belgian Field Army would have to hold the gap or gaps; behind
them the second line of forts would repeat the resistance, in their
turn, under increased difficulties. It might cost a number of lives, but
of these the Germans are careless. A big army with siege guns could
manage it, and not take unduly long.
It will be seen that it is of the utmost importance to protect
Antwerp, not by strengthening the defence more than has already
been done, but by the operations of a relieving force, acting from
the coast, upon the left of the German investing army.
The presence of British troops and ships at Ostend, which has been
announced officially in all the Belgian and French papers, has
already begun to effect its purpose; by reassuring the Belgians, and
distracting the Germans from pouring all their reinforcements on to
the front in France.
It is also forcing the light, skirmishing German parties of advance,
which threatened the extreme left of the Allied armies, from Courtrai
to Dunkirk, to contract.
(The anticipations here outlined have since been borne out closely
by the actual events of the fall of Antwerp.)
Sunday.
The Germans resumed their bombardment of Malines yesterday. The
church tower provided their chief object. They were successfully
kept out of the town.
The news is confirmed that something like a "whole army corps" has
been diverted from its advance across the frontier by the spirited
sally of the Belgians.
I was down on the lines west of the city again to-day. The troops are
in fine spirits at their success. The British sympathy and admiration
have been greatly appreciated. The tribute of the House of
Commons is spread by the journals broadcast, in large print.
At my small point of view there was only some slight skirmishing.
Since four o'clock yesterday the big guns have been having a rest.
Some peasants, captured and released, report the retirement of
German cavalry upon Louvain. These peasants have had seven days
of terror. They, including some women, have been driven at the head
of a small German contingent to and fro, threatened with death
behind and in front. They relate that those who fell out were shot.
Some of them were allowed to stop last night on the steps of the
Cathedral, as they were being herded through deserted Malines.
They must have been the same whom we saw pass, and heard
afterwards murmuring there, while we waited concealed inside.
The large number of Belgian wounds are in the legs; possibly from
lying behind two little elevated screens, in place of entrenching; but
the German rifle-fire is still low.
The Germans, advancing en masse, are constantly described as
firing from the hip. In front of the trench which I visited, the ground
was cut up by rifle-bullets in a continuous line, a few feet short of
the raised bank. Towards the end of the hour I spent there, came a
sudden ten minutes of furious firing. The hail of bullets whipped
against the far side bank in travelling waves of rustling sound, like
the passing of sharp gusts over a moor.
Later.
The air is yellow and heavy from the continuous bombardment of
the past days. Sudden showers of rain, out of cloudless skies, come
from the same cause. The guns began again to-night.
Ostend, Monday.
The Belgian Army was active this morning. Already at dawn as I
passed out of Antwerp through the wire entanglements and small
inundations about the military camps, they were on the move for
another attack. The guns were in action to the south of us.
The country, in the line of Ghent, is now free. It was possible to
travel almost to the French frontier before the alarm of Uhlans
began. But the villages, populous and filled with panic last week, are
now half deserted and melancholy. The refugees pour aimlessly to
the coast and back again, according to the rumours. The railways
run, advancing and retreating, according to the movements of the
enemy. In the morning trains may run straight, in the evening make
a cautious loop. A curious situation, significant of the double
occupation of the "open" territory.
I wished to clear up some of the mystery enveloping the northern
end of the French frontier. I therefore passed through Ghent
westward. Last week I left a German cavalry column disappearing
into the silence of "no official news" into the neighbourhood of
Courtrai. This afternoon I met news of them, or their like, returning
in the same quarter, as I made a hurried run to the border. It was
near Ypres that the peasants met us with warnings "The Germans
have been sighted, and are expected here."
From a safe retreat, in a wood on rising ground, we watched a small
line of German wagons, probably of wounded, winding into and out
at the other end of the short village street. It was accompanied and
followed by cavalry and a few cars.
It has been heartening to see any Germans facing in the right
direction, before I descended once again upon Ostend.

CHAPTER VIII
Paris and the Trenches
The ten days of the great conflict across France were now ended.
The military machine, the most powerful that the world has seen,
had swept past us across the silence of the frontier. Perfectly
prepared beyond all anticipation, and driven by the utmost forces of
military despotic tradition, it had achieved a performance remarkable
in the history of wars. But the machine had been met, and though
we did not yet know it, the momentum of its hammer-blow had
been exhausted, by a defensive retreat which will rank as
unsurpassed not only in military history but in the record of the
greatest feats of human endurance, of the supreme conquests of the
spirit of man over the machinery of man's invention.
Outmatched by ten to one, fighting by regiments, by groups, by
individuals, the soldiers of the independent racial spirit, of voluntary
subordination to the service of war, had resisted, doggedly, inch by
inch, and outlasted in the end, the devastating impetus of the vast
war engine. Still an unbeaten army of unconquerable personality, the
survivors waited outside Paris, reinforced, ready to resume the
offensive. Failure in organisation, suspected failures in collaboration
might have been fatal to the moral of a mechanically trained army.
To the elastic temperament and combination of our soldiers, bringing
each a free man's personality to the work of his chosen profession,
nothing could be fatal but loss of life itself, or loss of faith in the
common cause.
I returned again to Paris when the Germans were within a long
march of the outer forts. The journey took an interminable time. The
direct lines were threatened by the enemy or blocked with the
movements of troops. We wandered to remote junctions west of
Paris, and had to fight good-humouredly for standing-room with
crowds of reservists recalled to the colours. No doubt owing to the
greater magnitude of the problem the French railway organisation,
for other than military service, did not compare well, during the
earlier stages of the war, with that of the Belgians, who showed a
remarkable power of keeping their ordinary traffic almost normal,
and of reconciling it with the movements of their own or the enemy's
troops.
Paris was practically empty. A second greater exodus was going on.
The Government had retired to Bordeaux the day before. With few
exceptions even the war correspondents, the last usually to cling on,
had vanished. Our Embassy had left with the Government. Our
Consulate had also vanished, leaving a large number of anxious
countrymen stranded. Doubtless they acted under orders. But, in
pleasing contrast, a few of our Consuls seem to have been allowed
to exercise a more considerate discretion, and remained doing
excellent service till the threat of occupation passed. Most of the
Government offices were being occupied by soldiers. General
Gallieni, the Military Governor, was taking a firm hold. We felt at
once that the defence of Paris in his hands was to be really "jusqu'au
bout."
Life in Paris was undergoing a second mutation. On the occasion of
my first visit, at the outbreak of the war, it was in the throes
attending the surrender of individual liberty to the control of the
Departments of official military government. The Departments had
now retreated, and civilian life was under the necessity of
readjusting itself to the confused beginnings of a purely "soldier"
rule. The inconveniences lasted only for a few days. The Military
Governor organised his staff for the unaccustomed work of
administration with conspicuous energy.
All that was left of Paris, passive, observant, and quick to grasp the
necessity of subduing even its natural inclination to caustic
comment, accepted the situation philosophically. For a day or two we
still listened for the sound of the guns of the forts, which should
announce the beginning of the siege. But in place of them came the
quick rumour of the British successes near Compiègne, of the
German faltering and hesitation, of the swing south, and finally of
the retreat from the Marne. People began to return. Paris life
regained something of its vivacity; only the dark quiet evenings, and
the occasional visit of an airman, survived inside the defences to
remind us of the war. Now and then the sight of a British soldier
being embraced on the streets, and treated to an extent that
jeopardised the influence of Lord Kitchener's letter, made a link with
the with-drawing armies. News was reduced to the customary
minimum.
In the trenches, Friday.
Here, outside the gates of Paris, within the circle of the forts, there
is a note of instancy and reality which is hardly shared by the city
itself even since the nearer approach of the invaders. The red and
blue dots of soldiers move briskly with purpose over the fields, under
the heavy, summer trees. Just a flash of sun here and there on
bayonet or helmet.
Fortune has introduced me to a collection of non-commissioned
officers—jolly follows, in good heart. Some spoke English. One was a
Russian who had served as a volunteer in most of the armies of the
world. We sat under a tree in the shade, and they superintended the
heavy work of more red dots with grey shirts, sweltering in the sun
and digging trenches in the dusty, brown soil. In the distance,
business-like little lines of blue and red moved away over the
horizon. For the German cavalry is near us, in the Forest of
Compiègne, to the north. It had reached to Soissons, even to Creil,
yesterday.
The British caught them well two days ago; but now they are
between us and the British, in their distracting, scattered Uhlan
fashion.
We do not ask now: "Where are the English?" We know! But now it
is: "Where are the Indian troops? How many are they? Where do
they land?" Most of my friends are volunteers, full of spirit, and new
to the work. We are rather puzzled by the position. Of course the
German strategy is contrary to all sound rule. But still the "strategic
retreat" seems to have drawn out the French lines almost as long as
the line to the German base. We appear to pin our faith to that
mysterious unknown factor, of which the Press speaks, and to the
Indians and Turcos, and other oddments.
Then comes the interruption of reality. A few dispatch riders, in faint
dusty blue, gallop past. A few wounded, supported, bandaged, or
carried, come more slowly through the hot fields, along the dusty
trenches and entanglements. A German mitrailleuse car, "blindée"
(armoured)—that French invention that the Germans have turned to
such account—has rushed on a French outpost. These are its
victims. But the car is—we are told—"accounted for."
The touch of war is only a momentary disturbance to the quiet, busy
work of the red-and-blue and red-and-grey dots, marching and
mattocking in the afternoon sun round us.
Paris itself is "empty." Four weeks ago the Boulevards were
deserted, but it was the emptiness of emotional stress, varied by the
rush of sudden crowds and alarms. This was followed by our
declaration of war; and coincidentally the streets grew again alive.
Now they are deserted, but this time in earnest, for the inhabitants
have dispersed where they may. There is no panic; none of the
"nerves" of a month ago. The little unrest is due to the reductio ad
absurdum of war news, which characterises this war in all countries.
The only crowd to-day was the crowd of automobiles at the
Invalides, getting permits to leave the city before 7.30 to-night, the
last moment of passage permitted. Even the 5 o'clock circuit of
German aeroplanes created small sensation. It is no longer "new."
Yesterday, gentlemen of sporting tastes took shots at the
aeroplanes, as they sat at coffee on the Boulevards. To-day, some of
the Brussels caution, which found in such promiscuous shooting a
yet greater danger for the inhabitants, has asserted itself. A
mitrailleuse on the Madeleine secures the civic safety.
Four weeks ago chance made it necessary for me to pass hours in
almost every Government office in the city. There was then the
inevitable confusion due to the fact that most of the efficient staff
had gone to the front just at the moment at which every individual
found his rights to move and exist had become vested in a series of
public offices, and no longer in himself. Chance took me to-day to
wait in almost all these offices yet once again. It was again a
moment of dislocation, for the Government have gone. The offices
are in the hands of soldiers. The citizens have to adjust their
existence anew to yet another control, that of a purely military
organisation.
All the landmarks are shifted. Begins anew the scuffle for the usual
permissions to move or exist. As a pleasant contrast to the general
flight and upheaval, the United States Embassy and Consulate are
looking after the individual anxieties of half the nationalities of
Europe with a courtesy and efficiency beyond all praise. Paris is
empty, but sunny and still itself. Through the empty street the
columns of red and blue soldiers pass, with dusty boots, making
bright streaks of colour. Like a mother of pearl shell left on the
beach, the colours of Paris remain vivid, though the life in her
Government is gone south.
Friday night.
Another interlude—Shakespearean if you like. The talk of the first
and second Watchmen and the second Citizen outside the walls. A
drop-scene before Paris, in the second act of the great war tragedy.
The gates had closed before I could get in. A corporal, who
considered himself under an obligation, suggested taking refuge in a
shelter with five non-commissioned officers, who were
superintending the defence works. He knew one of them. The rest
were not of his regiment, and suspicious, as men are behind the
lines. But two or three gathered round to smoke; and, Parisian-like,
thawed with their own talk. The rest rolled up on the straw, and
moved restlessly in tired sleep, outside the range of the single light.
Naturally the talk turned first on the stranger: "What a risky job.
Now, a soldier goes safely where he's told, and can fight there, with
friends round. But you may be shot by anyone, as the easiest thing
to do! No inquiries as in peace time. Anyone may do it; and it's only
an unlucky incident. No mention in the papers even! Why, even
generals and officers have been shot in this war by mistake."
The risk set my corporal talking of a younger brother of his, whom
he had brought up and seen married; their two wives are together at
home with the babies. "He is of the—1st line, the little brother—only
so high. I do not know where he is. Only one postcard with no date
or address, saying 'Still living.' That is all, two weeks ago; and the
war may be over, and we shall never know. Perhaps we shall have
his regimental number returned, and never know. The little one
whom I brought up—only so high."
There was only one opinion about the English troops. "What fellows
they are—charmants garcons!—big and cool-looking in their 'green';
and impassive! And then, so gay, always so gay—except their
songs!"
"I cannot understand them, but they laugh all the time, even when
they are too tired to walk;"—it was a cuirassier speaking—"I helped
to carry one in the other day; four of us. It was near Amiens. He
was dying; his legs—so. He kept on saying something which we
could not understand; perhaps it was a message to his mother or
sweetheart. But he smiled always, and shook hands. And he said:
'Good friends. Good old England.' I understood that. He died before
we found the ambulance."
I asked cautiously, later, why there was the constant question about
the whereabouts of the "Turcos," Indians and Japanese. Were we
not enough? There was a volume of answer. "Ah, but we are
civilised! We thought this fighting would be civilised. They cut the
heads off their bullets. Here is one! And they rough the edge of their
bayonets—I have picked them up! But it is with savages. And we
have not the temperament." A volunteer emphasised this, a bearded
manufacturer, with a family, in ordinary times: "And these others
know the barbarous methods of fight. It is of their nature. They can
be ferocious. The savages fear them."
The old walls of Paris, the third line of defence, remain a cherished
sentiment. The famous story of Todleben riding round them on
inspection, with two officers, in silence, and only remarking quietly
at the end: "C'est tout? Paris est prise d'avance!" was treated as a
German's joke!
"The walls? They will be fought to the last! The stones of the street
of Paris will rise up in new barricades—if 'they' get so far!"
A volunteer infantryman arrived with a packet of salt. Salt is getting
rare. The arrival was made the occasion of a quick cooking of the
universal soup. The talk flickered up; chiefly of friends and positions
of regiments, details confused and not to be recorded. The end of
one story, however, stands out vividly: "We were only three, and he
could not walk further, and it was a cold night. We could not put him
in a haystack, for the 'Bosches' burn them; or in a cottage, till 'they'
had gone past. So we made a shallow trough between the furrows,
leaving him warm with his head uncovered, and pulled a harrow
above him. In the morning the peasant who had left the harrow
would find him, warm; or it would be easy to finish burying him."
The last of them rolled up in their coats and straw to sleep, my
corporal still murmuring: "I wonder where he is, the little one—so
high? Perhaps, after the war——"
And it seemed only a moment later that the dawn began behind
Paris, yellow behind the grey towers above the still mists.
Paris, Saturday dawn.
During the respite of the last days the army of defence has at least
got what sleep it could.
The trenches within the circle of forts are cloaked before dawn by
mist. Here and there, hidden under temporary shelters, a groan or
murmur tells where the soldiers sleep on straw, behind the
entrenchments. The stations of the local railway lines are filled with
straw, and among sacks and accoutrements the more fortunate are
asleep, crowded close under the open sheds.
If I move my head, shadows loom out of the mist—the close-
standing sentries. Singular figures, hidden in white vapour to the
waist. All wearing heavy cloaks of different types, but made uniform
by the military cap, the shouldered or grounded musket.
The challenges run round, in subdued tones. Even suspicion seems
lulled. In the truce of the night the mind even of the sentry is
passive. The artificial atmosphere, that makes all but the known
uniform an enemy, is forgotten for the moment.
Back towards Paris, the city is shoulder-deep in white mist. Only the
spires and towers emerge, grey and sleepy. The summit of the Eiffel
Tower is lost again in a yet higher belt.
As the grey light grows yellow and red with the coming sun, the
towers are projected against it as if floating in mid air, a city of
dreams. Can this be the town that is waiting half empty, garrisoned
with soldiers, every public office a barrack or ambulance, for
expected bombardment, almost certain siege?
Yet only a few miles to the north—how few the citizens do not yet
know—the advance patrols of the enemy are also resting, sleeping
under the same bands of white mist. They are at Pontoise; some of
them have been encountered even near the Seine in the glades of
the Forest of St. Germain.
And behind us, also hidden by the mist, the restless movement of
our own troops continues. Trains are shunting and banging; there is
the rattle of heavy wheels on the roads....
The yellow light widens; the mist lifts and grows thin. The sentries
seem to shape themselves, and swing their cloaks. A general stir
rustles out of the shelters. The clatter of cooking-pots and boots,
even of voices, begins round us. The night has been warm, and a
sultry feeling falls again at once with the opening of day. A cavalry
patrol, visible already in its lighter blue uniforms, files past. The men
move out to their work on the earthworks. There is the rattle of
arms as the rifles are freed from their standing stooks. Strange
sheaves these, in their threatening lines, by the edges of uncut
cornfields. They begin to glitter as they are lifted in the early
sunlight.
The sound of a distant shot, unexplained, startles my little circle of
view into alertness. The truce of night goes in an instant with the
mist. Suspicion, the sharp tension of prospective attack, change in a
second the atmosphere. Orders, loud voices, and movements tell the
beginning of another inconsequent day in the unnatural war.
Paris, as I return, is already awake: sharp outlined and stirring. Carts
are moving in and out of one gate, which has opened early. Small
parties of officers roll out noisily in motor-cars from their city
quarters.
It is time to get back to the suppressed, shepherded existence of a
civilian in a town under military government, for whom rumour-fed
ignorance is considered to be the only safe-guard against panic.
Psychology of an elementary character might form a part of the
training of the experts in war.
Paris, Saturday
midnight.
The pause outside Paris continues. It is neither ominous nor
reassuring. After their astonishing march the Germans have to
collect themselves for the great move. Rushed by their pace and
volume, but acting on a concerted plan, the Allies have retired with
deliberate skill upon their intended positions; with Paris as pivot. For
the time fighting tactics are of less importance. Strategy, for the first
time since the failure beyond the frontier, is again to decide.
The Germans have failed to force a decisive victory on their course
across France. The Allied Armies are still unseparated, their
temporary dislocation is cemented five times as strongly. Havre is
still covered, Paris is covered, the connection is retained with the
armies in Lorraine. The Crown Prince's army has failed to keep pace
in the centre. The front for the Allies is contracted; they have again
a strategic base on Paris; they have succeeded in gaining, in spite of
the tremendous pursuit, their chosen lines of defence to north and
east of the capital.
During the last few days the Germans have discovered the strength
of the position of the Allies by means of their unsuccessful raids at
Compiègne and elsewhere. They have possibly got some further
news from the west. They have had to rest their men and horses
after the terrific march; get up their great siege guns; prepare their
positions and platforms, and reconnoitre the admirable defensive
strategic positions. Do they mean to attack Paris? There is now
doubt of it. It has been "Paris or die." May we hope the "die" will be
cast?
There has been a considerable movement of their troops to the
south, east of Saint Denis. This has been construed into an attempt
to turn the rear of the French positions on the frontier; to create a
diversion in favour of the Crown Prince's army; to link up with this,
and either surround the French army of Lorraine or advance in
double force on Paris. This would imply a hesitation in the advance
of the terrible "marching column," a relenting of the pace—in fact, a
blunder of magnitude, in view of the importance of time.
It is more than probable that the movement south, to the east of
Paris, is preparatory to an advance upon the capital from two
directions, the east and north-east. This would at once threaten the
connection with the armies of Lorraine; do something to clear the
road for the Crown Prince in the centre; and substitute for an
immediate attack upon Paris an advance upon the main position of
our armies.
The design is being retarded by the usual measures; measures
which, to the lay mind, might well have been employed in retarding
the advance through Flanders and mid-Belgium.
Paris is going to be defended to the last wall. General Gallieni's
thirty-eight-word proclamation has created a profound impression. If
it comes even to street fighting, the few survivors in the city here
are prepared to see the walls burning about them.
Perhaps I may mention the open secret that, if the Germans are
rejoicing in the progress of their great siege guns, towed by 30-50
horses, we have a surprise quite as cheering for them here, once
they get to close grips.
And besides this, we are all asking ourselves how long their nice
sense of humanity will prevent the French making more use of their
explosive secret? This is a war to kill, to be decided by the number
killed.
And then Lord Kitchener's "unknown factor"; we know a great deal
about it now.
General Gallieni is an administrator of established reputation, and a
fighter by temperament. I met him to-day on his round of the
fortifications. He is never away from the vital points; at the same
time his administration of the town has got into working order with