National Geographic : 1917 May
Photograph by Herbert Corey REFUGEE TENTS JUST OUTSIDE THE OLD CITY WALL AT SALONIKI vader they always choose some nook in the hills from which they may watch their black roofs. They cache foodstuffs in secret places, from which they take a handful of corn or a cheese of ewe milk at night. When they are driven out the men go silently. Sometimes they are sullen. Sometimes they smile at the soldiers in a sort of twisted, sidewise fashion, in a poor attempt at propitiation. The women follow at their heels patiently. After the first outcry against the order of eviction they never openly defy the soldiery. Yet it is the women who most flagrantly dis obey. They return at night to the abandoned homestead, taking their children with them. To do so they must evade the guards and tramp across a desolate coun try in the darkness, in continual danger from the prowling dogs or from the rifles of the sentries. Somehow they manage to do it. Humanity requires that these little villages in the war zone be emptied to the last human, for in the rear is food and shelter, while at the front is only starvation and danger. Yet little by little the inhabitants trickle back. At first they are unobtrusive. Al though fifty may be living in a hamlet, one sees no more than four or five at a time. Eventually they resume their for mer mode of life, so far as that is possi ble. Sometimes they live on the hidden stores of food. Sometimes it is quite im possible to discover how they live at all. Some such thing happened at Brod.