At the end of August, Liebknecht,[26] a member of the Reichstag, set out in his car for Louvain.  He came to a village where there was considerable excitement going on.  The Germans had just found three of their men lying dead on the road, and accused the peasants of being responsible for the deed.  Liebknecht examined them, and was not long in obtaining proof that the Germans had been killed by Belgian riflemen.  At Huy there were shots in the night; two soldiers wounded; the populace accused; the mayor arrested and condemned to death; but he knew that there were no Allied troops in the neighbourhood, and also that his own people had not fired a shot.  “Shoot me, if you like,” he said calmly, “but not before extracting the bullets from the wounded.”  The officer, less of a brute than some, gave his consent to this.  The bullets in the wounds were German bullets.  But the Germans do not even require a pretext to take action.  Their first crime, to our knowledge, was on August 4th.  Some officers dashed up to Herve in a car, challenged two civilians while crossing the bridge and, without giving them time to answer, shot them down with revolvers.

In their private diaries they accuse one another, each throwing on his neighbour the responsibility for crimes committed.  A cavalryman writes:  “It is unfortunately true that the worst elements of our Army feel themselves authorised to commit any sort of infamy.  This charge applies particularly to the A.S.C.”  A bombing officer:  “Rethel, September 2nd.  Discipline becoming lax.  Brandy.  Looting.  The blame lies with the infantry.”  An infantry officer:  “Discipline in our company excellent—­a contrast with the rest.  The Pioneers are not worth much.  As for the Artillery, they are a band of brigands.”  A final extract seems to be the only one that gives the truth:  “Brin ... troops of all arms are engaged in looting.”

It has been possible sometimes to prove premeditation.  On the 17th August, a German officer was billeted with a Belgian magistrate.  Their talk turned on Dinant.  “Dinant,” said the officer, “is a condemned town!” M. X ..., of Dinant, happening to be in another town, made the acquaintance of a German officer, who said to him on August 20th, “You come from Dinant?  Don’t go back.  It’s a bad place, and will be destroyed.”  Troops on their march towards Andenne announced in villages through which they passed that they were going to burn the town and massacre the inhabitants.  At Louvain, a German officer, treated generously by a middle-class family, and appreciating their courtesy, rushed to their house on the 25th at 11 o’clock in the morning,[27] and earnestly pressed his hosts to leave without delay, refusing to give them any explanation.  The family, puzzled and perturbed by his appeal, went off and so escaped.

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