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has to be strict, because they too are subject to the military authority and this is holding the country against its will. They have reason for some nervousness because they do not know what arms the Belgians may have hidden and should the Allies have success on the Western Front it is always on the cards that there might be a civilian rising and untold carnage (I heard nothing, of course, of the arrests and executions for treason which were and are of weekly occurrence). I do not think their martial law administration was any more strict than that under which I lived in South Africa – in the Free State.
    I parted with real regret from Herr Kreuter (Parsifal I called him) a romantic figure, full of noble and ideal dreams and desires. It was in everything a day to be long remembered. He told me the Chilean Ambassador had been there and he told him that in asking for his Passport at the London Foreign Office he had mentioned his desire to see Louvain and the reply had been – There is nothing there to see, the town is completely destroyed!
    It was late when we got back to Brussels and I went straight to bed to get warm.
    Tuesday, June 13th This morning early we started for Aerschot having to go again to Louvain and change. Of all the cold days I think this was the coldest. We passed through a fresh bit of country but saw no devastation. When we reached the little station it was pouring rain and no vehicle to be got. We crossed the opening and took shelter in the little Railway Inn. Here we had a cup of coffee while Herr (name in notebook) who was sent with me to explain Aerschot (he being a member of the Commission that had taken evidence about the murder of the German Commander, Captain Steugel) went into the town to try and find some conveyance. My Baron evidently dared not go on account of his uniform, but Herr Xxx was in civil clothes and half a Belgian being a resident of Antwerp. He was very friendly, but I did not like him much – a man of totally different calibre to the others I had met – not a gentleman. Moreover, I did not think his information accurate nor that his facts tallied! He was one of the Germans long resident in Antwerp and intermarried with the Belgians.
    At last he came back saying no vehicle was to be had in town and there was no help for it but to walk - which we did. First we met a company of German soldiers who at sight of an Officer did the ‘Goose Step’ which looked exceedingly funny. It appears to be the etiquette on meeting an officer if impedimenta prevent other forms of salute. The town is small, about 8,000 inhabitants and there seemed little destruction. We came at last to the church which we lionized. Outside no harm – inside none either – only one thing – the western door of the church had (I suppose) been struck by a shell and set on fire for it was burnt and the flame had bLanckened the wall just surrounding it and two out of three pictures hanging close by had been burnt, the charred frames still hung on their nails, the canvass hanging in tags. They were valueless as works of art, but no doubt interesting to the townsfolk – about 200 years old, a bad epoch judging from the bits left and the companion one remaining untouched. The heat had melted the lead of the window panes above the door and some of these had fallen out and had been renewed but there was no good glass here. The Germans affirm that if a shell hit this door it must have come from the Belgians, they being on the West. It seemed to me just as likely that it came from no shell, but the harm was slight and there is at present no evidence. The doorway is boarded up.
    No other sign of war was to be seen in the picturesque winding streets of the little town till we reached the square where the famous outbreak took place and the Commander Capt. Steugel was found murdered on the floor of his room. We stood a long time in this Square, while Herr Xxx told the story of the affair as it