way
again without once getting beyond the city gates. Even if one
succeeded in obtaining the necessary laisser-passer from the
military Government, there was no way of reaching the front, as all
the automobiles and all except the most decrepit horses had been
requisitioned for the use of the army. There was, you understand,
no such thing as hiring an automobile, or even buying one. Even the
few people who had influence enough to retain their cars found
them useless, as one of the very first acts of the military authorities
was to commandeer the entire supply of petrol. The bulk of the cars
were used in the ambulance service or for purposes of transport,
the army train consisting entirely of motor vehicles. Staff officers,
certain Government officials, and members of the diplomatic and
consular corps were provided by the Government with automobiles
and military drivers. Every one else walked or used the trams. Thus
it frequently happened that a young staff officer, who had never
before known the joys of motoring, would tear madly down the street
in a luxurious limousine, his spurred boots resting on the broadcloth
cushions, while the ci-devant owner of the car, who might be a
banker or a merchant prince, would jump for the side-walk to
escape being run down. With the declaration of war and the taking
over of all automobiles by the military, all speed laws were flung to
the winds.

No matter how unimportant his business, every one tore through the
city streets as though the devil (or the Germans) were behind him.
The staid citizens of Antwerp quickly developed a remarkably agility
in getting out of the way of furiously driven cars. They had to.
Otherwise they would have been killed.

Because, from the middle of August to the middle of October,
Antwerp was the capital of Belgium and the seat of the King,
Cabinet, and diplomatic corps; because from it any point on the
battle-front could easily be reached by motor-car; and because,
above all else, it was at the end of the cable and the one place in
Belgium where there was any certainty of dispatches getting
through to England, I made it my headquarters during the
operations in Flanders, going out to the front in the morning and
returning to the Hotel St. Antoine at night. I doubt if war
correspondence has ever been carried on under such comfortable,
even luxurious, conditions. "Going out to the front" became as
commonplace a proceeding as for a business man to take the