Their Crimes | Page 3

After Morhange, a
French doctor of the 20th Corps remained in the German lines to be
near his wounded. He was accosted by one of his German 'confrères.'[3]
who with his own hands stole his watch and pocket-book.
At Raon-sur-Plaine, after the retreat of our troops, Dr. Schneider
remained behind with thirty wounded. Next day up came a German
ambulance with Professor Vulpius, a well-known German scientist of
Heidelberg University, who must have presided over many
international medical congresses. As soon as he was installed, "Herr
Professor" intimated to his French fellow-doctors that he was "going to
begin with a small customary formality." The formality was a simple
one: his colleagues were to hand over to him "all the money they had
on them." "I strongly protested" (declared the French doctor, on oath),
"but we were compelled to hand over our purses and all their contents.
Having relieved us in this way, he turned to our poor wounded, who
were all searched and stripped of their money. There was nothing to be
done: we were in the hands, not of a doctor, but of a regular brute...."
(4) Royal thieves: After living about a week in a château near Liége,
H.R.H. Prince Eitel Fritz, the Duke of Brunswick, and another
nobleman of less importance, had all the dresses that could be found in

the wardrobes belonging to the lady of the house and her daughters
packed up before their own eyes, and sent to Germany.
* * * * *
These thieves are often facetious: they give as compensation a so-called
receipt or bond (in German, of course), which in French means, "Good
for a hundred lashes," or "Good for two rabbits," or "To be shot," or
"Payable in Paris".... They are also disgusting. In houses robbed by
them they leave, by way of visiting cards, excrement in beds, on tables,
and in cupboards. They are sometimes unnaturally vicious. In a village
of Limbourg they burnt in a stable a stallion valued at 50,000 francs,
and "forced the farmer, his wife and children to witness the crime on
their knees with their arms raised." Amongst the crowd of unfortunate
people brought from Louvain to Brussels were thirteen priests. The
soldiers at a German guard-house stopped the column, and ordered the
priests to come out. To shoot them? No. They forced them into a pigsty,
from which they had driven out the only pig. Forthwith they compelled
most of them to strip off all their clothes, and robbed them of
everything of value they possessed.
These thieves are practical too. At Dinant, safes were opened with
oxy-hydrogen blow-pipes, brought expressly for that purpose. They
have a partiality for safes, and in this connection the story of Lunéville
deserves recording. A house near the station, belonging to M. Leclerc,
was set on fire; the walls alone remained standing, and in one of them
(on the second floor) a safe was left intact. A non-commissioned officer,
named Weill, with a party blew up the wall with dynamite, and the safe
was extricated from the rubbish, carried to the station, put on a truck,
and sent to Boche-land. This man Weill, before the war, often came to
Luneville on business with hops, was always well received there, made
himself agreeable and knew everybody. When the Germans settled in
the unfortunate town he played a very important part, in spite of his low
rank, in acting as agent, confidential clerk and guide to the
Commanding Officer.
The robbers are also business-like in their transport arrangements as to
carriages, military waggons, lorries, and motor cars. At Compiègne,

where the home of the Orsetti family was sacked, silver plate, jewellery
and articles of value were collected in the courtyard of the château, then
classified, registered, packed and "put into two carts, upon which they
took care to place the Red Cross flag." We read in the note-book of a
wounded German soldier, under medical treatment at Brussels, "A car
has arrived at the hospital, bringing war booty, a piano, two sewing
machines and all sorts of other things."
In 1870, our clocks were in most demand; now, pianos form the
attraction, and an immense number have been sent to Germany. They
are the article particularly favoured by the Boche ladies. In a château
retaken by our troops, an officer left behind a letter from his wife, in
which is written, "A thousand thanks for the beautiful things you sent
me. The furs are magnificent, the rosewood furniture is exquisite; but
don't forget that Elsa is always waiting for her piano."
These women, however, are not all as patient in waiting as Elsa. They
frequently come and choose for themselves, and preside over the
packing. They have been seen arriving in motor cars from Strasbourg
or Metz, at many towns