FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   40   41   42   43   44   45   46   47   48   49   50   51   52   53   54   55   56   57   58   59   60   61   62   63   64  
65   66   67   68   69   70   71   72   73   74   75   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87   88   89   >>   >|  
deavored to suggest what the bombardment of a modern city was like--what you might expect if an invading army came to-morrow to New York or Chicago or San Francisco. I have only coasted along the edges of Belgium's tragedy, and the rest of the story, of which we were a part for the next two days--the flight of those hundreds of thousands of homeless people--is something that can scarcely be told--you must follow it out in imagination into its countless uprooted, disorganized lives. You must imagine old people struggling along over miles and miles of country roads; young girls, under burdens a man might not care to bear, tramping until they had to carry their shoes in their hands and go barefoot to rest their unaccustomed feet. You must imagine the pathetic efforts of hundreds of people to keep clean by washing in wayside streams or ditches; imagine babies going without milk because there was no milk to be had; families shivering in damp hedgerows or against haystacks where darkness overtook them; and you must imagine this not on one road, but on every road, for mile after mile over a whole countryside. What was to become of these people when their little supply of food was exhausted? Where could they go? Even if back to their homes, it would be but to lift their hats to their conquerors, never knowing but that the next week or month would sweep the tide of war back over them again. Never in modern times, not in our generation at least, had Europe seen anything like that flight--nothing so strange, so overwhelming, so pitiful. And when I say pitiful, you must not think of hysterical women, desperate, trampling men, tears and screams. In all those miles one saw neither complaining nor protestation--at times one might almost have thought it some vast, eccentric picnic. No, it was their orderliness, their thrift and kindness, their unmistakable usefulness, which made the waste and irony of it all so colossal and hideous. Each family had its big, round loaves of bread and its pile of hay for the horses, the bags of pears and potatoes; the children had their little dolls, and you would see some tired mother with her big bundle under one arm and some fluffy little puppy in the other. You could not associate them with forty-centimetre shells or burned churches and libraries or anything but quiet homes and peaceable, helpful lives. You could not be swept along by that endless stream of exiles and retain at the end of the
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   40   41   42   43   44   45   46   47   48   49   50   51   52   53   54   55   56   57   58   59   60   61   62   63   64  
65   66   67   68   69   70   71   72   73   74   75   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87   88   89   >>   >|  



Top keywords:

imagine

 
people
 
hundreds
 

pitiful

 
flight
 
modern
 
trampling
 

screams

 

complaining

 

protestation


knowing
 

overwhelming

 

generation

 

strange

 
Europe
 
desperate
 

hysterical

 

colossal

 

associate

 
centimetre

fluffy
 

mother

 

bundle

 

shells

 
burned
 

stream

 

endless

 
exiles
 

retain

 
helpful

churches
 

libraries

 

peaceable

 

children

 

usefulness

 
unmistakable
 

kindness

 

thrift

 

eccentric

 
picnic

orderliness

 

conquerors

 

hideous

 

horses

 
potatoes
 

family

 

loaves

 
thought
 

darkness

 

scarcely