In the first three streets which the Germans traversed there
was not a single house left. There was not a house in the town but had
been pillaged. All doors had been burst open. There was nothing, nothing
left. The stench in the streets was insupportable.
I then went home, or, rather, I should say, I went to the house where my
father had always been boarding. You know, perhaps, that my mother died
twelve years ago. I did not find my father, but according to what the
people told me he had been arrested, and, with five other Aerschot men,
taken to Germany--I do not know for what purpose.
I got into this house without any difficulty, because the door was
smashed in. I stayed there from Saturday, Aug. 22, up to Wednesday, the
26th, a little more comfortable. There was nothing to eat left in the
house. I lived on what a few women who remained in Aerschot could give
me. I was forced to go with the soldiers into the cellars of M.X.,
director of a large factory, to hunt for wine. As recompense I got a
loaf. It was not much, but at this moment it meant very much for me.
On Wednesday, Aug. 26, we were all once more locked up in the church. It
was then half-past four in the afternoon. We could not get out, even for
our necessities. On Thursday, about 9 o'clock, each of us was given a
piece of bread and a glass of water. This was to last the whole day. At
10 o'clock a Lieutenant came in, accompanied by fifteen soldiers.
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