From a lady who had been seven months in St. Quentin, I heard the story of how invasion came suddenly and took possession of the people.  The arrival of the German troops was an utter surprise to the population, who had had no previous warning.  Most of the French infantry had left the town, and there remained only a few detachments, and some English and Scottish soldiers who had lost their way in the great retreat, or who were lying wounded in the hospitals.  The enemy came into the town at 4 P.M. on August 28, having completely surrounded it, so that they entered from every direction.  The civil population, panic-stricken, remained for the most part in their houses, staring through their windows at the columns of dusty, sun-baked men who came down the streets.  Some of the British soldiers, caught in this trap, decided to fight to the death, which they knew was inevitable.  Several English and Scottish soldiers fired at the Germans as they advanced into the chief square and were instantly shot.  One man, a tall young soldier, stationed himself at the corner of the Place du Huit Octobre, and with extraordinary coolness and rapidity fired shot after shot, so that several German soldiers were killed or wounded.  The enemy brought up a machine gun and used it against this one man who tried to stop an army.  He fell riddled with bullets, and was blown to pieces as he lay.

On the whole the Germans behaved well at St. Quentin.  Their rule was stern but just, and although the civil population had been put on rations of black bread, they got enough and it was not, after all, so bad.  As one of the most important bases of the German army in France, the town was continually filled with troops of every regiment, who stayed a little while and then passed on.  Meanwhile the permanent troops in occupation of the town settled down and made themselves thoroughly at home.  They established many of their own shops—­bakeries, tailoring establishments, and groceries; and in consequence of the lack of discipline and decency which prevailed in some of the cafes and restaurants, these places were conducted by German officers, who acted as censors of morals and professors of propriety.

Astounding as it seems, there were Frenchwomen in St. Quentin who sold themselves for German money and gave their kisses for a price to men who had ravaged France and killed the sons of France.  Such outrageous scenes took place, that the German order to close some of the cafes was hailed as a boon by the decent citizens, who saw the women expelled by order of the German commandant with enormous thankfulness.