In Flanders Fields

"This song, Rendezvous, is for fickle Maria who made a desperate lover wait two hours the other night . . ." "This samba is for redhaired, snub-nosed Sabina, who lives by the watermill . . ." "This record is for cross-eyed Albert so that, listening, he will have to stop his evil gossiping for at least four minutes . . ."

To track down the broadcasters of these titillating messages, Belgian police were patrolling the back roads of rural Limburg last week in small trucks loaded with apparatus for locating secret transmitters. But the dour, closemouthed Flemish farmers were as uncooperative as they were in the wartime days when the Gestapo hunted for Belgian underground radio operators.

The illegal commercial broadcasts (Belgium's official radio network is state-owned and noncommercial) are nourishing because of a genial conspiracy between the broadcasters and listeners. Handwritten program listings are passed around in country inns, whipped out of sight whenever a stranger appears. For a five-franc (11-c-) charge, the innkeeper will forward a record request accompanied by a romantic or spiteful message.

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