It took half an hour of explanations to convince him that we were not
German spies, that we really did know the password, and that we
were merely having a joke--though not, as we had planned, at his
expense.

The force of citizen soldiery known as the Garde civique has, so far
as I am aware, no exact counterpart in any other country. It is
composed of business and professional men whose chief duties,
prior to the war, had been to show themselves on occasions of
ceremony arrayed in gorgeous uniforms, which varied according to
the province. The mounted division of the Antwerp Garde civique
wore a green and scarlet uniform which resembled as closely as
possible that of the Guides, the crack cavalry corps of the Belgian
army. In the Flemish towns the civil guards wore a blue coat, so
long in the skirts that it had to be buttoned back to permit of their
walking, and a hat of stiff black felt, resembling a bowler, with a
feather stuck rakishly in the band. Early in the war the Germans
announced that they would not recognize the Gardes civique as
combatants, and that any of them who were captured while fighting
would meet with the same fate as armed civilians. This drastic ruling
resulted in many amusing episodes. When it was learned that
the Germans were approaching Ghent, sixteen hundred civil
guardsmen threw their rifles into the canal and, stripping off their
uniforms, ran about in the pink and light-blue under-garments which
the Belgians affect, frantically begging the townspeople to lend them
civilian clothing. As a whole, however, these citizen-soldiers did
admirable service, guarding the roads, tunnels and bridges,
assisting the refugees, preserving order in the towns, and, in
Antwerp, taking entire charge of provisioning the army.