The Washburn leader. [volume] (Washburn, McLean County, N.D.) 1890-1986, 1914-12-25
Two or three little pictures before
really BEGIN:

Two or three little pictures before
really begin:
It was the Pas de Calais at the end
of October-an October blessed, in
this year of dread, with clear. cool.
bracing weather, much like OUT own
Indian summer. Around a turn In the
road came q strange, shufding multi
tude. doubly strange in that well-ors
dered landscape
At the head marched an old woman,
Q stalwart, straight-backed Flemish
woman, vigorous in spite of her sixty
years. Beside her walked a boy OF
not than twelve, his figure al.
ready settling into a peasant solldity.
He. like the old woman, carried on his
back q bundle wrapped In a sheet.
And between them they dragged by
the hand a little girl, not more thar
six years old-half carried her, since
now and then she raised her feet from
the ground and let them support her.
1t was plain to see why she lifted
her feet. Her poor little shoes, heavy
though they had been in the begin
ming, were worn clear through. Her
clothes and hair were matted with
dirt, and her face a gray with 1t,
save for the streaks made by her
tears. She had stopped crying now;
she was beyond that. There onle
the time with all these refugees, young
and old, when they get beyond tears.
Behind followed the rest OF the reru-
gee caravan, like these leaders except
for minor details. OF course, there
was not among. them a man Of vigor-
GUS years-only a few grandfathers.
trudging along beside their women
folks. Mainly, it was a collection of
young children-all, like the little girl
in the leading party. beyond tears
with misery.
A dozen of the women, at least, car
ried babes in arms who had somehow
survived the miseries of days and
days of walking. These were the last
of the Belgian refugees to pour into
France. They came, mainly from that
thickly settled, fertile, once prosper
u southwestern strip, along which
Germans and allies were now fighting
for the b~ridge-head of the User.
But not all. Some OF them-as |
learned from the few who had the en-
ergy to talk-lived further north. A
month before they had fled from the
German advance after the capture of
Antwerp; and they had been fleeing
eve since-sleeping in the fields
through rain and shine, eating what
bread of charity Heaven only knows.
The tail of the procession. found.
had halted al a crossroads beside
which someone had erected a tent
from blankets strung on sticks. AS
approached, wondering what this
might be, an automobile anne whiz-
zing down the road at seventy miles
an hour-there are no speed laws for
military automobiles in time OF war.
1t stopped beside the tent; there was
q parley and a man in Belgian uni
form wearing a Red Cross brassard
on his arm alighted.
What is it-what is happenings" l
asked the first OF the refugees beside
In the gutter.
I'm enfant-a baby is being born"
he said briefly. The man in uniform
was a Belgian surgeon taking time
from his work of repairing death to
assist in giving life.
Again: It was the lex day in Calais
Calais. once so busy and Sc vener-
able. and in spots so pretty, but now
faded and dirty with the passage Of
armies. Ten thousand OF these refu.
gees came into Calais that day. That
day, also, the Red Cross was bringing
in Belgian wounded by the thousand
there had been serious fighting along
the User.
The refugees, herded or escorted by
the police, streamed down the streets
to the concentration yards prepared
for them on the docks OF the French
government, which was going to trans.
port them to the Midi as soon az it
could get the steamers. You would
Lear now and then the foot of an au-
tomobile horn, and the refugees would
make way for the passage of a motor
car loaded to capacity with the white
faced wounded. The car would go on,
and the refugees would close their
gaps and resume their weary, nerve
less pace.
At the concentration yards they sat
in family groups, the children huddled
about their mothers and grandmothers
like chickens around hens. No child
among them laughed or played; they
were too weary for that; but no child
cried. l was trying to. have speech
with these refugees. and finding them
too nerveless to give any account of
their adventures, when an ambulance
arrived. q.
A nurse and a physician descended.
A woman rose from a distant group
and Joined them. She carried in her
arms a bundle wrapped in rags. The
slant of her back showed that the bun.
dl, contained a chfld-there is an atti.
tide of motherhood which none can
mistake.
The women in the nearest group fol-
lowed the pantomime with their tear
less, hopeless eyes.
What is it," I asked.
For 4 time none Of the women an.
yWered. Then one spoke in 4 dead tone.