Helping Holland Rebuild Her Land
389
"No lunch yet," said the boss, "but you can
stop for 10 minutes." He strolled over to
Charlie. "How do you like the work?"
"Well, frankly, I'm a little disappointed.
I pictured us standing in the waves like
heroes, fixing holes in dikes."
"Ah yes, but you're doing work just as
important. You're fixing the land so it will
grow things again, and feed the people of
Holland.
"Your job isn't the end, either. After
you're through, the farmer will have to get
all the salt out of the soil. It may take him
5 years before he makes a decent living for
his family again."
He told us how international cooperation
and aid had averted even greater disaster.
Helicopters Saved Many Lives
"United States helicopters were really life-
savers," he said. "They went anywhere a
boat could, and some places where boats
couldn't. Time and again they whisked peo
ple to safety through the air" (page 375).
He said all sea dikes had been repaired ex
cept those on Schouwen Duiveland, where
water still covered most of the island. Soon
after we returned to the States, we heard the
last break had been closed (page 398).
We went back to work with a better under
standing of our jobs. We even had the feel
of the kipwagens before the ex-air-raid siren
blew for lunch.
Carrying our cheese sandwiches and milk,
we visited a farmer whose cows were calves
and whose watchdog was just a friendly, gan
gling puppy. All his grown beasts, he said,
had drowned in the flood.
We climbed the sea dike and marveled at
its size. Sitting on its edge, we watched the
peaceful march of coastwise shipping on smil
ing blue water. Last February desperate peo
ple had clung to the top of such dikes until,
exhausted, they slipped off and were drowned
in the flood.
"Au travail!" Down the wind came the
voice of the engineer. The gang trooped
back to work.
By midafternoon we'd dug the mound far
back from the tracks.
"Now what?" Gibby asked. "Do they bring
up a new railroad every night?"
"Where's that Yankee know-how?" re
torted our Dutch boss. "Put the crowbar
under the rails and shove." The track slid
over easily. Ours was a versatile railroad.
Nobody was sorry when the sun began to
sink and quitting time drew near. Days
later, of course, we looked back with amuse
ment on our first puny efforts in the salt-
rimed fields.
As time went by, we grew more limber. The
kipwagens rolled faster, shovels flew, the
mound dwindled, and the "Lake of Voorne"
became a pond.
Now the work was routine, and the big
moment of the week was knockoff time Friday
afternoon. Some boys went right off the first
week end to see the sights in Amsterdam,
Rotterdam, or The Hague ('s Gravenhage),
but we hired a little car and set out Saturday
morning to tour the southern countryside.
On a ferry from Hellevoetsluis to Over-
flakkee Island, a truckload of piglets perfumed
the fresh sea air (page 387).
"The baby pigs have an evil smell," said
the friendly truck driver, "but their story is
the Golden Rule.
"In 1944 the Allies, unhappily, had to bomb
the dikes of Walcheren Island to flood the
Nazis from the sea approaches to Antwerp.
The farms of Walcheren were ruined. Al
though poor themselves, the farmers of Over-
flakkee sent aid to the people on Walcheren.
"Today we of Walcheren, not harmed by
the last flood, return good for goodwe send
little pigs to Overflakkee."
New Canaan Helped Clothe Oude Tonge
If Voorne was damaged, Overflakkee was
all but destroyed (page 375). The harbor at
Middelharnis was gone, its boats left high and
dry in barren fields. The few houses still
standing were gutted.
"Gibby," said Charlie, "I want to go to
Oude Tonge. New Canaan, Connecticut, my
home town, adopted the village after the flood
and sent over a whole load of clothes."
Built atop an inner dike, the road to the
town was in surprisingly good condition.
What the unconquered barrier had done for
farmers behind it was plain to see. On the
left, farms lay barren, homes and barns were
in ruins, and water stood in the fields; on the
right, ripe grain awaited threshing (page 379).
Protesting dirt in the fuel, the little car
bucked to a halt. A farmer, alone, picked
stolidly through the wreckage of a houseon
the left side of the road. He pulled a broken
doll from under a sodden mattress. His ex
pression did not change, but his eyes clouded.
We asked no questions.
