bey af Vol. | = ae Saturday, October 21, 1944 “When the gate closed be- hind me, I-stood there, hardly believing I was free. I looked up at the sun and it seemed to shine brighter than ever before. “Tt was four or five miles to my home, but I didn’t take the bus, J walked along the sidewalks, looking at the people I saw. The women and chil- dren really looked swell after being cooped up so long! _ “Then I went into a soda fountain, and had a soda and a chocolate bar. That bar tasted like something from heaven! “The rest of the way in I was ‘floatmg on air. As I ap- proached the gate of my house, the old dog heard me and started to bark his fool head off. Then I was inside, trying to talk to my wite, my two little girls and my young nipper— all at the same time. German army. Prison Doors wl Belgian patriots greeted Allied soldiers as saviors after four years of semi-starvation and suffering under the heel of the Nezis who turned their country into a vast prison which was breached by our Canadian boys. By Sergeant Jack Philiips SOME few yeats ago I received a letter from a diag who ~ had just been released from prison where he had spent several months for working- class activity. To this day, here in Belgium, I have the letter among my personal belong- ings, and I am going to quote from it in order to illustrate just how the Belgian people feel after being liberated from the foul prison of Nazi tyranny. “We went inside and had dinner, and Il never forget that dinner. It wasn’t a luxuri- ous meal, but it seemed like a feast to me after prison fare. Best of all, I was master in my own home, and everybody around me, right down to the dog, and even the kitten behind the stove, was happy because I was there. When you go to jail for a principle, when you suffer for your beliefs—you have to draw on your hidden strength to buoy you up, but no man would be human if he didn’t feel the oppression of prison walls and the loneliness of being separated from the world he lived in, and the ones he loved.”’ e e ® you drive along a road in Bel- gium, and people wave, cheer and smile. A group spots ‘the battery radio we carry at the back of our truck. German! “Look! Leok!” they ery, “a radio!” Nearly all the Belgian radios were confiscated by the Germans so they wouldn’t lis- ten to Allied broadcasts, an admission that Belgians pre- ferred not to listen to German propaganda. Our convoy stops beside the road near an overturned bat- tered German truck. Two young Belgians, with Free Belgian armbands and German rifles stop in front of it. They ex- amine it curiously for a mo- ment, and then the older fel- low kieks the nearest tire, once, twice, three times. His lips move and he shouts angrily in French, and shakes his right fist as if to put a curse on the dead Gérman S.S. soldier in the cab. All I can make out is “Dirty Dirty $8.S.! You thought the Allies wouldn’t come, didn’t you? You took my brother away to work for Hit- ler! You pigs!” For the first time in more than four years he felt free of those walls of German oppres- sion that had been weighing so. heavily on him, physically, mentally and spiritually. Due to the exigencies of war, he may be even poorer in the next month or two than he was un- der the Germans—but I hardly believe he’ll be complaining. A. month or two of hardship is not too much to pay for the sift of freedom! HALE a dozen Free Bel- gians gather around the truck and we dish out some Sweet Caporal cigarettes. They are delighted. For more than four years, cigarettes were rationed in Bel- gium. All male adults over 18 were allowed 80 cigarettes a Allied soldiers pass through a liberated Belgian town in pursuit of the fleeing STATIEING OUT Be EVIL. month. None were allowed for women. They politely ask us to switch the radio over to a station in London broadeasting news in French, and we do so. After the broadcast, one chap says, “The Germans came around and took all our radios in the village except the crys- tal set I hid in my attic. I used that to take down the British broadeasts—when it worked. Then my wife and I would write out more copies for our friends.” No wonder freedom tasted Sweet to these men! Last night another chap and I went into a tavern for a beer. We offered the old fellow be- hind the bar a cigarette. He refused. “Thank you, but my lungs are bad, and I can’t smoke.” My chum gave him a Canad- lan chocolate bar and he was profuse in his thanks. From somewhere in the back, he dug out a hidden box of rationed cigars and insisted we have one each. Later, as he munched a bit of chocolate,“his face all smiles, he said, “This is good choco- late!” Then the smile left his face and he confided to us, “Weve had no chocolate for more than four years now. The reason my lungs are bad is be- cause we didn’t get enough to M147 eat—we had to feed Germans, in this country and im Ger- many!” TEs morning E gave a little lad two pieces of white bread and some margerine. As he ate his sandwich, he rubbed his tummy in delight. _ There was only ersatz brown bread during the German occu- pation, 350 grams per person, per day, or 12%% ounces. Three hundred and fifty grams a month, for every registered coupon holder, was the butter ration. I could go right down the list and give you full details of the diet they had to live on, unless they could afford to pay fantastic black market prices— but sufficient to say it was a semi-starvation diet that caus- ed much sickness and disease to adults and children alike. The Belgians’ joy in being liberated is well expressed in the followimg English sign T have seen displayed in many villages and towns. “Soldiers of The Wnited Nations—Thank you for the quick liberation of our dear- est Belgium.”