Dinant is a small city in the Walloon region of Belgium, on the Meuse River. It is one of those otherwise obscure places (Fort Pillow, Lidice, My Lai) that has lent its name to an atrocity. On August 23, 1914, in the early weeks of World War I, German troops slaughtered almost seven-hundred Belgian civilians – men, women, children – and burned down most of the buildings in the city. In her “Dinant, August 1914” (Arm in Arm, 2022), Catharine Savage Brosman describes the massacre as “foreshadowing the trenches.” True, but it also foreshadows the second round of German barbarism less than thirty years in the future.
“Late June ’14: an
Austrian archduke died
by an assassin’s hand. A
pawn, that’s all.
The chessboard changed;
alliances and pride
moved pieces toward an end
none could forestall.
“Mid-August, Feast of the
Assumption: war
now two weeks old. In
Belgium, on the Meuse,
Dinant had been contested
twice before.
This time the Teuton
forces would not lose.
“French fighters occupied
the Citadel,
when Jägers, with machine
guns, overcame
them, leaving one-half
dead. The stronghold fell
again that very day—a
deadly game
“foreshadowing the
trenches. Germans massed
Their troops, secured
pontoons. First, raids at night.
The 23rd, they crossed:
blast after blast,
grenades and cannon,
houses fired, to spite
“resistance. In one month,
a thousand dead
civilians, pillage,
executions, rape,
two libraries in ruins—and
ahead
four years of butchery,
with no escape.
“To what avail were pacts,
with Europe, torn,
gouged out, perhaps nine
million soldiers killed?
Though time grew late, the
peace was never born.
War is the poisoned fruit
that we have willed.”
In The Times on
September 2, 1914, in response to Dinant and other German atrocities – known collectively
as “The Rape of Belgium” – Rudyard Kipling published “For All We Have and Are”:
“Our world has passed
away,
In wantonness o’erthrown.
There is nothing left
to-day
But steel and fire and
stone!”
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