VIVID PICTIRES OF HUN BRUTALITY.

Hokitika Guardian, 31 August 1918, Page 4

VIVID PICTIRES OF HUN BRUTALITY.

F ATI-lER VAN DAM MIPS ADDRESS.

If there is anywhere a pacifist who is not very sure of his attitude towards the war, says a Sydney 7 paper, lie ought to hear the Rev Father G. Vandamme. He is the gentleman who came recently from Belgium with a message fiom Cardinal Mercier, the protector of the oppressed Belgians. He speaks English with a pronounced accent, but he lias a wonderful instinct for the right word and effective phrase, and his description of the behaviour of the modern Hun in Belgium is both convincing and moving.

Father Vandamme addressed a great meeting held at the Sydney University lately, under the auspices of the University Union, and at the invitation of the students of St John’s College. He was most cordially received, and his passionate earnestness quickly gripped his audience. He plunged straight into his subject, “The Devastation oi Belgium.”

When war burst on Europe four years ago, he said, the first question was: “What will Belgium do?” and a thrill went over the whole world when it was found that Belgium would keep her word —and sacrifice everything. Belgium had suffered for four years—but the name of Belgium was blessed throughout the world. (Applause.) Before the war Belgium, only half the size of Tasmania, was so prosperous that it could give a living to 650 persons per square mile. You could see its prosperity everywhere, then —but it is all gone now—gone by this terrible war.” “ How did the war start ? ” With war mans, brief historical references, the lecturer quickly told of how the Powers around Belgium guaranteed the independence of the little kingdom. By the treaty of London, Belgium promised to defend her neutrality —“and,” he added simply, “ Belgium did her duty.” (Applause.) It is because we have done our duty that we have suffered. But our honour is safe. (Cheers.) The great crime was done by Germany. She promised to guard our neutrality, and, instead, she tried to steal it from us.

“ Where is the King of the Belgians ? ” From the very first moment of the war the King appeared in Brussels dressed as a soldier, and he has never left his army since. (Applause, and the audience stood while M. Albert Goossens sang “La Erabnucoune.”) Our Iviug, our Ministers, and our Parliament were unanimous that we should keep our pledged word.

“'What of our army? At the moment' the war started we had only 135,000 soldiers, and they had to guard every front—against France and England, as against Germany. When the Germans crossed the frontier there were then only 25,000 Belgians to meet 150,000 invade?s. But they fought, and other Belgians came up. My dear friends, 14 precious days were gained on the frontier at Liege by that little Belgian army, and everyone knows all over the world that, but for the time thus gained, the war would have been lost by the Allies.

“ Let 11s look at the army—small, very quick, well trained. We started with 135,000 men, and we lost 100,000 in 2.1 months. But we have now a new army of 250,000 men. Thousands and thousands of young men escaped from Belgium, risking electric wires, the shots of sentries, everything, and joined our men on the Yser. They are there now, well trained, eager, and they fight to-day along the Yser.” (Cheers.)

Then the lecturer, having stirred his audience with the glory of Belgium, turned sharply to tell of what her nobility had brought her. A photograph of helmeted Germans, swaggering through a beauti ful street, was thrown on the screen. “ Germans in Brussels,” said the .lecturer tragically. For four years they had been there, he said, wholly controlling Belgian affairs, robbing everywhere. “ Money, money, they rob all, everything. They requisitioned horses, mattresses, blankets, coals, crops—our people starve ” —and on the screen appeared a picture of Belgian men bringing in foodstuffs under the direction of fat German soldiers.

“They took from the people even their linen shirts. They plundered the houses of poor as well as rich ” —the screen showed a number of broken safes—" and they burned the houses to hide their handiwork. Here are some of the ruins”—and then came touching photographs of poor people, weeping as they searched in the debris of their houses for some cherished possession .

More pictures appeared, showing towns before and after the Germans’ arrival, and the sad voice of the priest went steadily on, giving the endless story of the German outrages. “ Nothing was respected. Look here, this was a hospital 15 miles from Antwerp. There were women and wounded soldiers there. An aeroplane came and directed shell fire upon it.” The tearful heap of debris that was once the magnificent Cloth Flail at Ypres was the last of this terrible indictment of Germany as a master. “So

lias Belgium suffered,” said the priest quietly. “Here is a question I am often asked, l ls it all true ?’ * Are the Germans really so cruel as they are depicted ?’ I say, ‘ Yes ; you cannot depict them as too cruel.’ Listen ; I will tell you what I myself have seen or know of.” He told ot priests tortured, old men murdered —more ot the endless stories of German crime, wantonness, and brutality among helpless civilians.