PROLOGUE
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he country of
Belgium, unwillingly, became the World War I battlefield of Europe when German
troops invaded that country on August 4, 1914.
During the four-year occupation of Belgium, from August 1914 to November
1918, the German army terrorized the Belgian population and committed
atrocities, slaughtering men, women, and children.
The Belgians
were known for their patriotism, their courage, and their devotion to King
Albert I (1875-1934), who fought the enemy with his soldiers. The king was the embodiment of Belgian
idealism, the defender of the land and its patrimony, and the representative of
the liberties of the democratic ideals and system of government.
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The
Allies joined forces to repel the invader and many of the battles took place in
Belgium where civilians and soldiers fought fiercely side-by-side in order to
defeat Europe’s common enemy. The war
ended in 1918 with the total defeat of Germany, but Belgium was in shambles. Thereafter the Belgians lived in fear of
being invaded again; moreover, they had developed a deep-seated hatred of the
Germans. Monuments erected to the
memory of heroes and martyrs to this day pepper Belgium, France, England, and
America. Stories of the cruelty of the
enemy to the civilian population were told for years after the Allied victory
but the country had rallied around their king, Albert I, who became an example
of patriotism to his beloved subjects.
He died in 1934 and was succeeded by his son Leopold III.
Chapter One
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n
September 1939, at fifteen, I—Arlette de Monceau—was the oldest of three children.
My brother Guy was fourteen years old, and my sister Ginette, twelve. My father was a civil engineer who at the
onset of the war headed his own business in Brussels, Belgium. He assessed real estate properties with
finesse and dexterity. He had a very
sharp mind and loved to read. Well
versed in history, he excelled in mathematics and was famous for his knack of
turning a losing argument into a victory, a knack that many a time had
infuriated my mother.
My father was born in 1898 and my mother in
1902 (although she claimed 1904 as her birth date). I adored my mother who was a petite woman with beautiful green
eyes. She had the spirit of a tiger and
was known to put her foot down when my father was contrary. She had been an excellent student and was
well educated in music and the arts.
My parents, married in March 1923, were not
rolling in money but had a prestigious name, which inspired respect from our
peers. My ancestors, originally from
France, had had titles (such as Marquis) centuries ago. However, during the French Revolution my
ancestors fled France, leaving the title behind, and escaped to Belgium, taking
refuge as common citizens in Brussels.
My parents demanded good manners and despised vulgarity. We lived in a middle class neighborhood and
always had had a car. My father was
impatient and couldn’t waste his time waiting for a streetcar, so a car was a
necessity, he thought. Another
necessity was a nap; papa took a little nap every day right after lunch at
around 1:00 pm, so he organized his life around that time of day, which became
sacred as his life progressed. My
mother was a homemaker but had a cleaning lady who would do the heavier chores
once or twice a week.
Chapter Two
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nbeknownst
to us, September 1939 marked the end of an era of peace and relative
prosperity. The tension buzzing in the
air was palpable. Everybody seemed to
be on edge not knowing what was going to happen. Germany was boiling and the
arrogance of Hitler didn’t bode well.
Papa told us the mood and uncertainty we were experiencing was a repeat
of the anxiety Europe felt in 1914 just before World War I.
The
signs that something strange was afoot were emphasized by the crazy speeches of
Hitler, the Fuhrer, always preceded by military parades in the main German
cities. A constant atmosphere of
uncontained enthusiasm emanated from the German youth. Huge crowds of uniformed
men and women were enthralled by the long-winded speeches of the Fuhrer. Flags lining the wide avenues all over
Germany and the overwhelming enthusiasm of the crowds when Hitler spoke showed
the world that Germany was powerful and coming into her own after the years of
uncertainty and extreme poverty that the Germans experienced after WWI and the
punitive Versailles Treaty, which demanded heavy reparations for the war. As a result, France and England, who had
always enjoyed a peaceful rivalry, became friendlier toward each other and
started to rebuild the unity they had shared during WWI.
The Belgian king, Leopold III, was
considered a pacifist. He said that he
chose to remain neutral for fear of the country’s being harassed by
Germany. We didn’t believe this. He remained neutral, some thought, because
he was enthralled by the Nazis; after all, he was of German heritage and his
sister was married to Humberto, an Italian prince in service to I1 Duce,
the Italian Fascist dictator, Benito Mussolini. Many suspected his sister had cautioned Leopold and in turn he
feared for his throne. The French speaking Belgians didn’t particularly love
him; he gave many speeches in Flemish and seemed to have more affinity with the
Flemish speaking Belgians than the others.
However, I don’t think he was openly pro German.
On September 1, 1939, even though school
wasn’t in session yet, we were summoned by our principal to attend the funeral
of a beloved ex-Mayor of Brussels, Adolphe Max. Max, a hero of the World War I, was worshipped by the Brusselese
for the front he presented to the Boches of 1914. (The Germans were called Boches
during the World War I, 1914 – 1918.)
Regarded as a great man and known to us kids as a wiry little Belgian
with a neat haircut, silver hair and a little goatee, Max represented the
embodiment of freedom and patriotism.
During his funeral a surge of patriotism ran through our veins.
While we were attending his funeral, a
sudden rush and movement of troops, mounted gendarmes—our Belgian state
troopers—galloped all over the city.
These powerful figures were in full uniform. I shall always remember the thundering noise of the horses’
hooves on the cobblestones. The
troopers’ demeanor was serious. We were
impressed and slightly scared. We
couldn’t wait to get home to find out what this commotion was all about.
We were quickly briefed by the radio
announcer: Germany had invaded Poland on September 1, 1939, after peace talks
between Hitler and the British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain had
collapsed. England and France had had
no choice but to declare war on Germany.
They were united once again, their old rivalries put on hold. Their
union gave us hope, as well as the confidence we needed to face an uncertain
future. The news that the Wehrmacht (literally: defense force,
German army) had savagely invaded Poland left me feeling sick, powerless, and
terribly sad. We saw pictures of the
invasion at the movies and in the newsreels.1 The people of Poland were bombed
unmercifully as they left their cities, villages, and hamlets. They were seen leaving on foot, in horse
drawn carts, on bicycle, even pushing wheelbarrows loaded with their humble
possessions. Before we knew it, the
Russians and the Germans had become strong allies, the Russians attacking
Poland from the east.
A war had been declared yet no fighting
occurred, and even though the allies were at war with Germany, no battles were
taking place. There were no fireworks, no display of fighting, and no explosion
of bombs. Not only did we feel pretty
safe, we also knew that no matter what, the allies were going to be the
victors. After all, the French had
built the Maginot Line, a line of fortification that was supposedly invincible,
along the Siegfried Line, the German line of fortification.2 We also pinned our hopes on the British air
force, the Royal Air Force (RAF). All
we had to do was to wait and get ready.
The Belgians, who are practical people,
started stocking up on food. My father
was the expert on what to purchase. He started to stockpile beans, potatoes,
sugar, oil, flour, soap, and all non-perishable staples, which were loaded in a
downstairs room. We shared the expert advice of people who had gone through
World War I and knew how to keep food from spoiling. The art of canning
vegetables and fruit was resurrected, and papa devised ways to make sure that
all of the family was involved in canning and making jam and jelly. Yes, we
were ready! Still nothing happened
except that once in a while a stray plane, either German or British would fly
over the countryside, and caused a lot of commotion. The newspapers would chastise whoever was flying aloft. The
headlines would sensationalize the event and then return to their same refrain:
“NOTHING TO DECLARE ON THE WESTERN FRONT.” Life remained somewhat normal, until
the beginning of April 1940, when Germany seized Norway and Denmark.