Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1914-11-24
BELGIANS NOW
WITHOUT LAND
ANDAFUTURE
War Has Scattered People,
Says Writer in Story to Aid
Red Cross Appeal.
BY samuel G. Blythe

D3 ohhuei u. biythe
The following story of the sad
plight of the Belgians was sent by
Mr.. Blythe to the Red Cross for the
purpose of bringing home to Ameri-
cans the urgent need for Belgian re-
lief:
A man sat on the deck of the
steamer Amsterdam. holding lightly
TO his chest a bundle made up of
three umbrellas and two walking
sticks, tied round with a cotton
string. We were coming from Ant
werp to England
He was a, thin man, and a pale
man, and a dirty man. and a tired
man. His scanty whiskers were
matted. His eyes were shot with
blood He seemed in constant terror.
He started appreheneively from time
to time. looked around, and then
sank back dejectedly. But all the
time ne Rugged his three umbrellas
and two walking sticks.
There was a priest on board-a tall.
grave man, who had been a professor
in some school at Brussels. 1 had
been talking with him and he had
asked me to walk along the deck
with him and see the wretched crowd
that filled every open space on the
boat. The priest could talk in
Flemish. and we stopped here and
there while he spoke a few cheerful
words to some woman or some par
ticularly disconsolate man.
ASK him why he hugs those UNI
brellas," L asked the priest, as we
came to the Belgian with the bundle
clasped to him.
We paused, and the priest talked a
few moments with the refugee.
Those are all he has, the priest
. told me. "Those are all he saved
when the Germans came. He lived
in a village near Termonde. One
morning the invaders arrived. They
burned the. village. They laid the
countryside waste. They killed some
of his neighbors. He escaped. He
was frightened. He is frightened yet.
lie took these pathetic belongings.
and he has carried them with him
ever since. They are all he has left
all. Everything else is gone. He
wandered about until he came to
Antwerp, and they put him on this
ship to send him to England. He
cannot fight. He is lame. He glib
bers when he tells of the terrors Of
the last two weeks. His wife is lost.
His children are scattered. Perhaps
they are dead. All he has left In
this world is his umbrellas and his
walking sticks. There are thousands
like him.
Eyes Like Frightened Dogs.
Did you ever look into the eyes of a
frightened dog, or see terror in the
eyes of horse? If you have, you
know the expression in the eyes of
those Belgians who were being taken
to England. If you have, you know
what dumb horror means. There
were almost 600 refugees on that ship.
and there had been thousands before
them, and were thousands after them.
They all had the same story. They
all told it stolidly, Internationally,
with dull precision-all except tho
children, who. hung close to their
mothers, equally horror stricken.
equally tired and travel-stained, but
not knowing what had happened.
Nor, indeed, did many of these women
or the men know what had happened.
They were living their usual lives In
their villages and on their farms.
Suddenly strange men appeared.
There was shooting. Soldiers rushed
back and forth through their streets,
Houses crumbled before artillery FIRE
and burned. Neighbors were killed.
They were told to hurry away. They
took what they could of their poor
belongings, tied them in towels or in
sheets, and left. They walked and
walked They slept in the Indigenous
and in the fields. They were drenched
by rain. They had little food.
Finally, tired and hungry, they
reached other men in uniforms, who
were kind to them, and now they were
on the boat going somewhere; they
did not know where. They knew
nothing, save that a sudden flame of
death and destruction had. swept over
their homes, and that after much, suf-
feFing and much pain, they were
herded on the decks of a ship, on their
way to foreign land.
What Have 1 Done?"
what have / done?" a woman
asked, a woman with five children,
one ibut a few months old. She sat