At Rosendaal, at Scheveningen, Eysden, and Flushing, at a dozen other
places, these ghastly things are repeated in one form or another.
Holland has sheltered hundreds of thousands, but she could not in a
moment organize even adequate shelter, much less comforts.
In Bergen-op-Zoom, where I write these words, there have come since the
fall of Antwerp 300,000 hungry marchers, with no resources except what
they carry with them. This little town of 15,000 people did its best to
meet the terrible pressure, and its citizens went without bread
themselves to feed the refugees. How can a small municipality suddenly
deal with so vast a catastrophe? Yet slowly some sort of order was
organized out of chaos, and when the Government was able to establish
refugee camps through the military the worst conditions were moderated,
and now, in tents and in vans on a fortunately situated piece of land,
over 3,000 people live, so far as comforts are concerned, like Kaffirs
in Karoo or aborigines in a camp in the back blocks of Australia. The
tents are crammed with people, and life is reduced to its barest
elements. Straw, boards, and a few blankets and dishes for rations--that
constitutes the menage.
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