GERMANS IN BRUSSELS

Evening Star, Issue 23745, 28 November 1940, Page 11

GERMANS IN BRUSSELS

WAR-WEARY ARB LISTLESS BELGIANS' RISING SPIRIT The first leaves are falling as I sit in the park opposite the Royal Castle in Brussels before ray departure m the second week of September a . correspondent of the Condon ‘ limes ). Children, are playing round the big pond, which brings up memories of tho Luxembourg Gardens in Paris. Toy boats sail across the dark waters and young voices fill the air as the children laugh and shout. From the main entrance on the other side of the park comes the faint sound of trams and motor cars. You cannot hear the tramp of German army boots here, but you know it is there on the pavements. Barbed wire shuts off the centre of the park, and German sentries guard the wireless station which has been put up. there next the children’s playground among green lawns and flower beds. On one side of the park flies the swastika flag over the Royal Palace; on the other side, the street as well as the courtyards, halls, rooms, and corridors of the former Parliament and Government buildings, swarm with German soldiers, for all these premises have been taken over by the invaders. The uniforms are manifold in colour and design, dark green, light green, dark grey, light grey, many shades of browns and blues, mixtures, of black and brown, black and white, and other combinations. All are adorned with some kind of weapon, a rifleor revolver or a rather ridiculous-looking sort of dagger dangling at the hip. For these the Belgians have their own facetious pet name. Some nine-tenths of the German military here walk about in high black boots, which are worn even by the railway officials. TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP. Brussels is full of these boots. You cannot forget them. If you close your eyes the sound of their tramp haunts you, be it by day or at any hour of the night. And as accompaniments to the perpetual tramp, tramp, tramp, you hear the sharp shouts and dommands of the men who wear them, the noise of - their innumerable motors, carts, .tanks, trucks, motor cycles, buses, and overhead the roar of aeroplane engines. There is no escape, for if you go into a restaurant or shop, especially a food shop, any hotel or bar, boulevard or square, the scene is everywhere * dominated by men and women in German unifernis. Their names are perplexingly numerous. Besides the • “ JJeuteeJie Wehrmachtangehorige ” (.the military proper), there are members dr the ‘ Arbeitsdienst,’ ‘ Technische Nothiltc,’ “ Arbeitsorganisation Todt,” Streifendienst,” “ Nationalsozialistische Volkswdhlfahrt,” “ Hitlerjugend,” various kinds of Civil servants now in military uniform, bank clerks, transport officials, “ Kraft durch Freude ” men and’women, and the Gestapo. But the striking thing about these hundreds and thousands of soldiers and semisoldiers, ranging from youths to greyheaded men, girls', nurses, and what not, is that they do not live up to the creed imposed on the super-racial citizens of glorious and victorious, Great Gemari'y dF maintain tho. : dignity"which their citizenship enjoins. They are certainly in the main tired, war-weary, and demoralised to a high degree. This statement is not based on wishful thinking, but on actual observation and first-hand experience. Intimate and unconstrained contact with German soldiers, officials, and women in Belgium to-day makes the propaganda to which we have been subjected, the official bulletins and newspapers ivo have read both in German and in French, seem unreal. Rarely, indeed scarcely ever, ■ can you hear among the many German uniforms in Belgium any of the high-flown phrases about victory, greatness, and invincibility. On the contrary, the Germans in Belgium betray a surprising Jack of faith in the propaganda of their Government. Only yesterday I heard a German officer say quietly that he thought tho Germans would find it impossible to invade and defeat England. “ Our people do not know the English,” he explained, “ but I hayo_ spent, many years among them in their country.”

'sick and tired. Gcrniau soldiers in Belgium are fre- . quently heard to declare they detest this war, that they are sick and tired ot it, and want to go home., At first one can scarcely believe one’s cars and wonders whether it is not some sort of trap or astute new form of propaganda, but that idea soon passes and the conviction is formed that the “ victorious ” German soldiers arc seriously demoralised. At the slightest inducement, and often without, they will , produce photographs of their wives, children, dogs or other pets, and talk at length about the bombing of their home toivns, the permanent dangers in which their families live while they themselves are, or seem to be, in relative security marking time. Encourage these sentimental bullies to talk about letters from home and you soon feel you have them on the verge of tears. So far as can he judged, most of the soldiers now in Brussels have been some two years in arms. If asked about the end of the. war they generally shrug their shoulders . and show no pleasure in the prospect of the future. They certainly criticise the occupation of Denmark and Norway, and they wonder what they are doing in Belgium, “ which will never become German, anyway.” They do not want to fight, they can easily be induced to profess that they personally have no great sympathy for the Nazi Governthey_ obviously have no firm faith in ultimate victory, and the view can often be heard that, “ if we do not succeed with our invasion of England in the course of September—and we shall probably not succeed, though we still hope, of course—wc shall never win this war.” Without any inducement they now occasionally add. “ and that means revolution.” We know Germany and Germans sufficiently to remember some of their reactions, how cruelty and sentimentality are typical features of their character. A man • who does not hesitate to machine gun women and children will sit down and cry, yes, actually shed tears, at the thought his pet canary being killed by a cat. They arc decidedly in sentimental mood today. For they are not used to suffering directly as a people during war. The bombing of Berlin and' Hamburg is making them tearful. Yet I am convinced it is not only this which has turned their stomachs against this war; they are just sick of it for no particular reason, and most of them are not Nazis at heart. IN THE GRIP OF TERROR. True as this may be of the Germans in Brussels, it would bo too much to conclude that their weariness, disgdst, or general disapproval are, enough to bring them to open revolt. It may seem madness, it surely is some form of madness, but those people are in the/grip of to death,

and will never find strength ana will I rawer of themselves to oppose their .N'azi leaders The Belgians, who clearly realise the obvious demoralisation of the German troops in their country, are equally convinced of their powcrlcssncss to take any sort of revolutionary initiative. A Belgian workman put the ease in a nutshell the other day when lie said, “ They tell us they detest the war and want to go home, but they are here all the same. That is all that‘really counts.’ He added, with the air of a conspirator, “ But you wait and See. In 1188 w< ; let them all go-home. This time not one of them who lingers shall leave the country; there is room lor all of them in the canal.” . The attitude of the Belgians towards the invader is clear, and the I 1 lemish people also appear not so delighted as the Nazi Government would have the world believe. It seems now that, faced with the Germans, they are all really Belgians, and their mutual antagonisms fade at the prospect of having the country carved into bits. The people of Belgium feel now that they have been defeated by treachery, they have no one clear idea as to who has brought them to their present plight, but all in Belgium know to-day that it is not the English who have betrayed them, though the Germans have sought to propagate this conception. It is touching and curious to observe how they contrive to spread the news of the 8.8. C. They listen where and when they can, in spite of the heavy penalty prescribed by the Germans. Servants, waiters, tram conductors, indeed, everybody, does his best to pass choice items along as fast ns possible, and all listen with delight for the sound of British aeroplanes which come after dusk to bomb the Germans in their midst. “ BRITANNIQUE ” WINS. In spite of the thorougli German militarisation, or perhaps because of it, tho Belgians show their real sentiments whenever they have an opportunity. On September 1 there were horse races near Brussels, and among the horses was one called Britannique. Nobody seemed to know anything about this horse, but it seemed that everybody was backing it to win. Well, as Chesterton says, the curious thing about miracles is that they sometimes happen. And a miracle happened that day; the dark horse Britannique came in first, and the crowd lost all restraint, laughing, roaring, shouting “ Britannique, Britannique,” clapping one another on the back, and acting as if they had not merely won money, but had received a welcome sign from heaven. The Germans in. Belgium are overorganised, and therefore inefficient, as many of the numerous departments often work against one another, wittingly or unwittingly, and cancel out. The highest authorities are sometimes quite ignorant of important things done within their province. BELGIAN WHISPERS. Living' in Belgium you feel there is something in. the German machine that does not work as smoothly as it should. There appear to be two distinct features, the military and the economic, wliich are often out of gear. When economic plans break down the military take charge. In spite of the demoralised temper of the troops, the military machine still works through inertia with tolerable efficiency, and it would be wrong to regard the soldiers as on tho road to an early revolution. It is often said,‘and with apparent truth, that nine-tenths of all Germans are out of sympathy with their Nazi masters, but if this is really so they are passive nine-tenths, who will not of themselves rise in active revolt against the active one-tenth. But there is another possibility, which some competent observers incline to regard even as a probability. The stunned spirit of the Belgians has largely recovered, and the Word “ revolution ” is often whispered. It was heard now and then as far back as August, but only in a vague and dreamy way. But tho economic spoliation of the country which has not yet reduced the people to tho apathy following long and gradual starvation has aroused intense resentment. For the moment only the spirit of revolt is there, ready to'take shape if practical opportunity should arise. At tho beginning of September the good old ‘ La Libre Belgique ’ appeared again on tho scene. It is believed that, when tho moment is ripe and active revolt becomes a fact in France or any other occupied country, it will rapidly spread to all, certainly to Belgium. The movement, if movement it may bo called, appears for the present at least to have little or no taint of Bolshevism, for Communists and Nazis are lumped together in. the minds of most citizens of Belgium and looked upon as traitors. The only tangible thing in the goal towards ,which minds tend is the liberation of Belgium from foreign domination.