At the Bridge

At Calais, the thunder of bombardment died and white flags fluttered in a short truce. Beside a demolished bridge eight miles from the town's center the British general commanding the Canadian besiegers waited to confer with the Calais commander, a Colonel Schroeder.

The German colonel, apparently assigned just before the siege to hold Calais as long as possible, soon turned up with his staff. They were smartly uniformed, but one officer had a wooden leg, another only one arm. Colonel Schroeder stiffly saluted his adversary. Said he, referring to the anomaly of a truce: "This is like something out of Alice in Wonderland."

"I wish you to know," he went on, "that I have received orders from my Fuehrer to fight to the last man and that is what I intend to do. The sole reason for suggesting this truce is to find a way of evacuating the civilian population."

The truce was agreed upon. Thousands of civilians streamed from the town into the Canadian lines. As the meeting at the bridge ended, the British general said: "Well, Colonel, I hope you will enjoy tomorrow's bombardment."

Schroeder shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Said he: "C'est la guerre."

Perhaps jaunty Colonel Schroeder could take it, but his 4,000 men could not. Two hours after the bombardment had been resumed, the white" flag went up again. This time it was for keeps.

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