Their Crimes — Reading Companion

Evidence from Captured Notebooks

A distinctive feature of this compilation is its reliance on notebooks taken from German soldiers, non-commissioned officers, and officers who were wounded or taken prisoner. The introduction presents these as 'valuable records' where the authors have 'imprudently given themselves away.' One excerpt reproduces a letter from Bavarian Lieutenant Eberlein, published in a Munich newspaper, describing how he forced civilians to sit in the street as shields, noting that 'the plan worked at once.' The text uses such firsthand accounts to argue that in 1914 the German forces did not deny these tactics but 'rather gloried in them as a good idea.'

The inclusion of these notebooks is presented as a counter to anticipated denials: 'The Boches will deny them later on,' the text predicts, but the captured writings are offered as contemporaneous proof. This method of evidence—using the enemy's own words—gives the pamphlet a prosecutorial tone, assembling a case from multiple documentary sources rather than relying solely on victim testimony.

The Use of Human Shields

One section details the practice of forcing civilians to march ahead of German troops to deter enemy fire. Specific locations are named: at Alost, 'some thirty civilians' were driven in front of a machine-gun; at Nimy, '500 men, women and children' were herded toward English lines. The text describes a grim calculus: when the human shield was visible, the opposing forces ceased firing; when civilians tried to escape, the Germans fired on them directly.

The account of Mouzon illustrates the lethal consequences: civilians pushed forward with rifle butts, then suddenly moved aside, exposing the German soldiers. The French forces then fired, and the Germans, 'furious,' turned their first volley on the non-combatants. The section also notes that prisoners of war were used similarly: at Keyem, Belgian soldiers with hands tied were pushed forward; at Dixmude, forty disarmed marines were used as cover, with the marines reportedly shouting for their own side to fire. The text frames these acts as systematic, not isolated.

Deportation and Civilian Prisoners

The chapter on 'Martyrdom of Civilian Prisoners' describes the deportation of survivors from burned villages to Germany. The text states that 'it is impossible at this moment to establish the number of those deported, but they were sent off by tens of thousands.' The description emphasizes the compounded trauma: these were people who had witnessed fires and massacres, buried victims, or held lights for executioners finishing off the wounded. The phrasing 'these poor wretches are despatched to Germany' conveys a sense of relentless persecution.

The section relies on the official reports of the French and Belgian commissions, but the language is deliberately emotive, pairing the catalog of destruction with the psychological state of the deportees. The text does not provide specific numbers or destinations, but underscores the scale—'tens of thousands'—and the fact that women and children were included. This section, like others, builds its case through accumulation of named locations and repeated patterns of behavior.

Readers should note that this pamphlet is a wartime document with an explicit advocacy purpose: to stiffen resolve and demand punishment. The evidence is selected and framed to support that aim. The excerpts show a pattern of using multiple source types—commission reports, captured notebooks, and newspaper accounts—to construct an indictment. The text's value lies not in neutrality but in its documentation of specific allegations, many tied to named towns and dates, which can be examined against other historical records.

I have often set down Their Crimes — Reading Companion and sat with its weight, the careful record of suffering. It reminds me, strangely, of mornings spent with Fragments from France — Background and Themes, not for the horror, but for how both books hold a country's ache in quiet, factual hands. There is a kinship there, like two old friends who never met but share the same tired sigh.