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ANTWERP THE DAY AFTER ITS FALL 221
us from above, caressing the mighty arches. No doubt a bell-
ringer or watchman is testing the carillon—a welcome music
—
perhaps a thank-offering that the cathedral has not been more
severely visited by the havoc of war.
The little town lies still and empty, and its streets are life-
less except for the troops and transport trains marching
through, and the number of stray dogs, half wild, who are
sniffing for their lost masters among the ruins. The main
street leading to the cathedral recalls in a horrible manner the
ravages of war, the relentless destroyer of peaceful homes. On
the left we pass a house the interior of which has been laid
completely bare by a shell, reminding one of the geological
section of a piece of rock blasted for railway work. The
ground floor is a pile of wreckage and lumber. From the first
floor a tangle of draperies, curtains or mats is dangling down
towards the street, like shreds of red flags, and the joists and
girders between the first and second floors have collapsed,
creating a perfect scrap-heap of wrecked furniture. On the
second floor, however, a part of a room has been left intact,
revealing a cupboard, a child’s cot, and, strange to say, a
looking-glass which still hangs perfectly uninjured on its hook.
Leaving on our right the Grand’ Place with the town hall
and other old-world buildings, and the pretty statue of
Margaret of Austria, we cross another canal and debouch on
the main road to Antwerp. Here we proceed between the
important forts of Waelhem and St. Catherine, surrounded by
their evil-looking belts of barbed-wire entanglements and
trous-de-loup, and tack cautiously between the immense
craters formed in the middle of the road by shell explosions.
Some of these shells had dealt very roughly with the electric
tramway lines running into Antwerp from this point. One
projectile, which had struck close to the track, had merely
succeeded in twisting the rails slightly upward, leaving them
suspended over the pit by their sleepers. There was room for
Dr. Hiitten to stand upright under them, an experiment which
we made later on when we could better afford the time.
Onwards we fly through this country, levelled by the
alluvial mud of rivers almost to the flatness of the sea outside.
It is fertile soil and every inch almost is cultivated, and we
were almost startled to see a puny little clump of pines stand-
ing lost and forlorn by the roadside. Otherwise there is nothing
but parks and ploughed fields, kitchen gardens and nurseries.
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