While the Germans occupied the city, all inhabitants were required to be indoors by eight o'clock; a light had to be kept in every window, and the blinds left open, so that any one moving could be clearly seen from the street. The windows themselves were to be closed. Dosch said he woke up about four o'clock one morning with his head splitting; the lamp was smoking and the air vile with smoke and smell. He decided he would prefer to be shot than die of headache, so deliberately got up and opened his window. The story loses its point by the fact that after violating this strict rule, he was not taken out and shot.
They said it was really pretty dreadful. From their window, they saw, every little while, a group of soldiers lead some poor frightened Belgian to a little café across the street; several officers were sitting at one of the tables on the sidewalk, holding a sort of drumhead court martial. While they were examining the case, a squad would be marched around behind the railroad station. A few minutes later the prisoner would be marched around by another way, and in a few minutes there would be a volley and the troops would be marched back to their post; then, after a little while, a stretcher would be brought out with a body in civilian clothes, a cloth over the face. Some of the prisoners were women, and there were screams before the shots were fired. It must have been a dreadful ordeal to go through.
_Brussels, August 27, 1914._--The day after my last entry I started on a trip to Antwerp, got through the lines and managed to wriggle back into Brussels last night after reëstablishing telegraph communication with the Department and having a number of other things happen to and around about me.
All I can remember now of the 23d is that it was a Sunday, and that we could hear cannonading all day long from the east. It was hard to tell just where it came from, but it was probably from the direction of Wavre and Namur. It was drizzly all day. The German troops continued to pour through the city. From time to time, during the last few days, their march has been interrupted for a couple of hours at a time, apparently as a result of a determined attempt on the part of the French and English to stop the steady flow of troops toward the French frontier. Each time we could hear the booming of the cannon, the deep voices of the German guns and the sharp, dry bark of the French. At night we have seen the searchlights looking for the enemy or flashing signals. Despite the nearness of all this fighting and the sight of the wounded being brought in, the streets barred off to keep the noisy traffic away from the hospitals, and all the other signs of war, it has still been hard to realize that it was so near us.