Red Bank High School - Log Yearbook (Red Bank, NJ)

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Then, in turn, succumbed Namur, Charleroi, Verviers, Bruxelles and Anvers, leaving the Chateau country in the hands of the German enemy, the Chateau de Modave be- ing' engulfed in the maelstrom. Belgium, the martyr-nation of the war, was lighting not only her own battle, but the battle of France, the battle of Great Britain, and the Battle of Freedom. German officers took possession of Modave and German troops were quartered in the surrounding forest. The marauders ransacked and despoiled the old Castle, removing priceless works of art, destroying furniture and emptying its celebrated wine cellars. The Comtesse, prisoner in her own Chateau, could only witness the desecration with speechless indignation, almost oblivious to this vandalism in her great agony for the safety of her son about whom she had heard nothing. While affairs were at this pass, two German officers of high rank arrived to station themselves at Modave. The Comtesse knew that these two would countenance further spoliation and determined that the world should some day know who it was who sanctioned it. She naively asked the officers if they would not comply with an old custom of the Chateau and register their names and the date in the visitors’ book. Flattered, they did so. They were assigned to rooms still untouched by the hands of the wreckers. During a short stay there, they slashed into ribbons with their swords all the curtains, sheets and tapestries in their rooms; smashed to atoms all the bric-a-brac and costly furniture and costly vases. Moreover, they consumed vast quantities of wine, wantonly wasting it. After their departure, the Comtesse gave strict orders to her servants to leave their suites exactly as they then were. In order to save the wine that remained, she charged the servants secretly to conceal the bottles in the Oerth, in the hope that at the dawn of peace, this wine might be used to celebrate victory. We now leave Modave and digress to an incident which occurred before the storming of Liege. Upon learning that the German troops had crossed the border, in violation of a treaty in which England guaranteed her protection to Belgium in case of invasio'n, the populace of Liege, in particular, were hopeful that Great Britain would immediately dispatch troops to aid in the defense of the city. Because several English officers had been seen in Liege, the people were deluded into the belief that their ally had arrived, being too frenzied to realize its impossibility. The people shouted: “Les Anglais Arrivent!” This cry reached the ears of General Leman at his headquarters in the Rue Lourex, where Charles was assisting him in some official work. The office was on the ground floor and the General was seated by an open window facing the street. Charles was seated at a desk between the commandant and the door. The door opened and in walked several British officers. The officers had come, to all appearances, to discuss the defense of Liege, and were very cordial in their demeanor and speech. The first surprise of their unexpected arrival being over, Charles, rapidly recovering his equanimity, came to the decision that it was an impossibility for the English to have arrived already on the scene, and as rapidly came to the conclusion that these men must be imposters—that they were Germans attired as British officers. Evidently the equally quick witted strangers read what was passing in Charles’s mind, and one of the strangers put his hand to his hip. This convinced Charles that he had guessed correctly, and he divined their purpose. Without a moment’s loss of time he jumped toward General Leman, gathered him up bodily and threw him out the window, shouting to him to flee—that these were enemies. Scarcely had he performed this act and uttered his warning than the reports of several shots rang throughout the building, and Charles, the first martyr of the war, lay dead at the feet of his murderers, having consummated in one brief act two of the noblest deeds possible for a man to perform—to die for one’s country and to sacrifice one’s life to save that of another. And from his mortal wounds gushed the first drops of blood stained torrent shed in vindication of the world’s ideals of liberty, justice and chivalry, and in expiation of the abominations of a race who by its hate slew its own soul. General Leman was saved from the cunning and illicit trick of the Germans. It was their intention to capture or kill him, which was frustrated by Charles’s nobility and heroism. Had they succeeded, it is possible that the brave defenders of Liege, deprived of the brilliant leadership of Leman, would not have been able to offer the 8

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tives of the noblest families of Belgium. Women beautifully gowned and gracious of manner; men elegantly groomed and distinguished for their gallantry—old and young—all made a galaxy of splendor and refinement. In the banquet hall the guests sat at tables bedecked with gorgeous flowers and the finest linen and at which were served the choicest viands and wines. After the feast dancing commenced for the younger people in the ballroom, and the elder people either sat along the sides to watch the gay Terpsichoreans or repaired to an adjoining salon to gamble at cards. Standing apart, near an open window, were engaged in earnest conversation General Leman and the Scion of the Chateau in Charles. The youth, full of venture- some spirit, was attracted by the gold braid and stirred by the renown of the old soldier. After discussing the Servian agitation and its possible reaction upon all of Europe, the conversation drifted to the boar hunt of the next day. The General, a past master in the art of war and an enthusiastic hunter, was deeply impressed by the responsive chord awakened in the young Vicompte by their mutual interest in Mars and Diana. The youthful noble was boyishly grateful, there- fore, when General Leman promised that if he distinguished himself at the hunt the next day, he would make him his aide. As the Vicompte was an officer in the Garde Civique, he was qualified for the proffered post. The General was at that time sta- tioned at the Citadel of Liege, the first defense against an invading force. The two proceeded to the salon where the Comtesse, the Chatelaine of the Chateau, was occu- pied with some of the older guests, and acquainted her with the General’s promise. The mother’s deep love for her son made the thought of his departure repugnant to her, but she realized that the Vicompte would he in excellent hands and that if there should be an outbreak of war, it would be the part of loyalty and duty to make this sacrifice, and she thereupon gave her consent. The following morning presented a bustling scene at the old Chateau. All of the guests, full of excitement and expectation over the coming hunt, were eager to be on the ground. The hunt of that day was to be “en battu.” Scores of peasants were sent into the forest equipped with heavy staffs to beat off the bushes and to drive the wild boar before them into an open space where the animals would have to run the gauntlet between two parallel rows of hunters stationed in boxes which stretched along a distance of an eighth of a mile. The boxes on a side were sixty feet apart, and the boxes on one side were diagonal to those on the other. The width of the alley was a hundred and seventy-five feet. There were very strict rules to be observed by the sportsmen in order to prevent accident and to give the animal every chance. A gunner could fire only when the animal was directly in front of his box and could not make a quartering shot. He could shoot but once. If he missed, it was then the turn of the gunner in the next box on the opposite side. A wild boar is as ferocious as a tiger and more dangerous than a mad bull. It was such an animal that the General and the Vicompte were stationed in their boxes to shoot. The first boar came rushing madly through the alley-way almost unex- pectedly and passed the last box without being hit and disappeared into the forest. This was due not to lack of expert marksmanship but to the fact that the nimrods had not as yet steadied themselves. Several boar were finally killed, but the climax of the day’s sport was reached when a boar, wounded by the General, in its rage charged at its assailant. There was a foreboding lull on the part of the hunters and spectators. The Vicompte, who was in the next box, perceiving the imminent danger to the Gen- eral, rushed out, hunting knife in hand, to encounter the boar; this knife-to-tusk com- bat being a part of the sport requiring great nerve and courage. The boar then turned upon the challenger, and, as it made a vicious charge at the young man, the agile youth quickly sidestepped, at the same time deftly plunging his weapon into the heart of the beast. Needless to say, this act sealed the General’s promise to make the hero of the day his aide. Mars superseded Diana. The conflagration of war burst forth in middle Europe and its consuming flames sought to burn a path through Belgium into France. Liege, after its world-famed resistance and stubborn defense, was the first rampart to fall. 7

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stubborn and effective resistance that they did. Had Liege fallen sooner than it did, no human power could have stopped the tide of Prussian Imperialism on its march to conquest. Who knows but that the world owes its present peace and security to this glorious sacrifice of a noble hearted boy? The tragic news of the episode just related finally reached the Chateau de Modave. In the shifting of German officers to and from the castle, two young- officers were detailed there. They were given a suite vacated by the previously mentioned officers. Since the rooms had been left in their chaotic condition, the new arrivals rebuked the Chatelaine and demanded an explanation. For reply she showed them two particular entries in the visitors’ book. The truth of the matter was so evident that their arrogance was shocked into silence. To relieve the awk- ward situation they asked in more courteous tones, to be shown over the immediate grounds. After a walk through the park they strolled to the banks of the Oerth. It will be recalled that some of the bottles of wine had been deposited in the stream for concealment. A ludicrous thing had happened. The labels had been washed off and had floated to the banks. The officers caught sight of them and the Comtesse wondered whether they would gather from the evidence before their eyes, what had been done. They remarked about them, picked up several of them and read the names of the vintages, but were too obtuse to penetrate the mystery of the phenomenon. To prevent any possible discovery by this, she hinted that these were the only relics left of several Bacchanalian orgies indulged in by their fellow officers since the occupation of the castle. The officers, having before tasted of her acumen, made no further comment. Returning to the Chateau through the gardens and orangeries, the conversa- tion reverted to the experiences of the men while in Liege. They told of a clever ruse, in which they had participated, the object of which was to effect the capture of the commanding Belgian general. A shudder passed over the Comtesse’s frame. They continued to narrate how their plan was frustrated by the quick perception of a young Belgian officer, adding in a cold blooded and almost jocular vein, that his interference resulted in his death. Their hero’s mother was petrified for the moment, in the consciousness that she stood face to face with the murderers of her son. Through her mind in quick succession passed emotions of hate, revenge, and then an anguish which rent her heart. With supreme self-control, stiffing the seeth- ing passions burning within her soul, she majestically proclaimed to them that it was her son who had fallen before them in fulfilling the “last full measure of his devotion.” The grandeur of her spirit, for one moment at least, pierced the callous hearts of her hearers and evoked a sentiment of compassion and reverence. Then she said proudly: “Do not feel that, by your act, you have deprived me. On the contrary, by his immolation, 1 am everlastingly glorified as his mother.” The tale will go down to remote posterity; a tale of deep infamy and lofty honor, and to Charles, the victor, who played the game, shall go the prize—IM- MORTAL FAME. The School Library. What would we do, in our spare period, if it were not for the school library? Our lessons done (?) we scamper to the desk, securing a slip, then rush downstairs with a book. It may be anything, from “Horace’s Satires” to “Four Buckets of Blood.” Let it suffice that it is a book—by name. Giving the slip to the librarian we turn in our reading matter. How the time flies, as we search frantically for another one. This one looks nice. We open it. “The irreverance with which humanity regards our topic is stu- pendous.” Nuff said! We want a book of fiction; not a dictionary. Ah, a pretty cover. Let’s see what’s inside. “Cum esset Caesar in Citiore Gallia.” Wow! With a sigh of relief we throw the book back and glance fearfully at the clock—half the period is gone. This sounds nice. “The Tragic Fate.” Let’s see the end of it—“With a last sob of despairing agony, she hurled herself from the cliff.” None of that stuff.