r becomes their predominant
emotion. The father is led away to work in the mines. One by one the
daughters are commandeered and sent off into the heart of Germany,
where it will be no one's business to guard their virtue. At last
the mother is left with only her youngest child. Of her sons who are
fighting with the French armies she has no knowledge, whether they are
living or dead. Then one day it is decided by her captors that they
have no further use for her. They part her from her last remaining
child and pack her off by way of Belgium and Switzerland back to her
own country. She arrives at Evian penniless and half-witted with the
terror of her sorrow. There is no one to claim her; the part of France
that knew her is all behind the German lines. A label is tied to her,
as if she was a piece of baggage, and she is shipped off to Avignon,
let us say. She has never been in the South before; it is a foreign
country to her. Poverty and adversity have broken her pride; she has
nothing left that will command respect. There is nothing left in life
to which she can fasten her affections. Such utter forlornness is
never a welcome sight. Is it to be wondered at that the strangers to
whom she is sent are not always glad to see her? Is it to be wondered
at that, after her repatriation, she often wilts and dies? Her sorrow
has the appearance of degradation. Wherever she goes, she is a threat
and a peril to the fighting morale of the civilian population. Yet in
her pre-war kindliness and security she might have been your mother or
mine.

The American Red Cross, by maintaining contact with such people, is
keeping them reminded that they are not utterly deserted--that the
whole of civilised humanity cares tremendously what becomes of them
and is anxious to lighten the load of their sacrifice.

* * * * *

I have before me a pile of sworn depositions, made by exiles returned
from the invaded territories. They are separately numbered and dated;
each bears the name of the region or town from which the repatrie
came. Here are a few extracts which, when pieced together, form a
picture of the life of captured French civilians behind the German
lines. I have carefully avoided glaring atrocities. Atrocities are
as a rule isolated instances, due to isolated causes. They occur, but
they are not typical of the situation. The real Hun atrocity is the
attitude towards life which calls chivalry sentiment, fair-pla