Living in a battle zone
WHEN the tide of German invasion swept through Belgium and into France thousands of the inhabitants fled before it, leaving their property to the mercy of the unbridled Huns. The tide was stemmed and made to ebb, but in its backward rush still more material damage was done, and now, after two years and more of trench warfare, the country behind the lines consists of a broad belt of blackened and pitted fields, shattered woods, and damaged buildings, whence great numbers of the inhabitants have long since fled.
Many have stayed behind, however, in spite of the perils and restrictions which proximity to the trench area involve, and though the bustle of war has put an end to many of their wonted daily avocations, starvation is far removed from the door even of the nearest dwellingplace. The vast floating population of soldiers which has more than taken the place of the refugee — men able and willing to pay good currency notes for services rendered — has provided the remaining inhabitants with opportunities of which they have not been slow to avail themselves; and though at any moment death may swoop out of the skies, claiming as its victims soldier and civilian alike, for those who care to run the risk money is to be made, and work to be had for the asking, and the greater the risk the greater the profit. Thus, amidst the apparent ruin, there is a certain prosperity assuring a livelihood for all, and more than that for some.
Dotted all over the country, and clustering closely together in the towns and villages are numerous estaminets or cafes, which sell the light Flemish beer and French wines, in addition to supplying food and other forms of refreshment. These estaminets do a flourishing trade, though one which is kept well in hand by the stringent measures of control enforced by the authorities. The sale of spirits is sternly suppressed, and disobedience is punished by the house being put out of bounds, thus giving added benefit to legitimate traders. Go where you will, a cup of coffee and an omelet can generally be obtained at a reasonable cost, and many of the houses have notices in their windows announcing that bacon and ‘‘chips’’ can be had within. Almost every house contains something for sale, varying from a modest store of chocolate and picture postcards to the full stockintrade of a wellequipped grocery establishment;
and the trade is a lucrative one.