Belgium, The Great Adventure

       Ah, What was that? A loud crash, and a nearer boom than before. For two days past there had been this horrible sound in the air. Boom, boom, boom, just like someone battering against a wall, which is exactly what it was. The armies of Germany and Austria, pounding and battering against a wall of my gallant countrymen. A wall that was to bend and give‚ but never break, until the forces of destruction had been utterly and completely defeated.

       Ghislaine, my little owner, was too young to understand all this, and she gazed with wondering eyes at the crowds that thronged the roadway all day and half the night. A crowd fleeing from the terror that pressed hard upon their heels. A crowd of women, children, boys, girls, and, yes, dolls too; for everyone carried some small article that was precious, so that you may be sure that the girls did not leave their dollies behind. Presently our turn came too, and we were ordered to retire from the village which had hitherto been the only bit of the world we had known. Poor, peaceful little village! I had but a small idea of how long it would be before I saw it again, or to what a condition it would have been brought. Ghislaine's mother grabbed her up, she herself grabbed me, and I am sure that none of us have the least idea how we did reach the coast.

       Here, too, the confusion was indescribable, and no one seemed to have the smallest notion of where we were to go, or what we were to do. At last, however, we were hustled on to a ship that was to carry us to England, the country over the sea of which I had only heard the name. Ghislaine cuddled me very close to her, for she is a wonderful little mother, although I think she was nearly as frightened as I was. We had no room to move, so tightly were we packed, and when night came no one dared show the least glimpse of light. It was awful, and I expected every moment that we should all find ourselves in the sea, upon which the ship tossed and rolled in such an alarming way.

       I could not sleep, because my eyes are not the kind that are made to shut, and all through that dreadful night I stared around me at the pitiful crowd; but Ghislaine slept soundly in her mother's arms, utterly tired out. A wee, wistful child. Truly " He giveth His beloved sleep."

       And then Folkestone, with all the busy landing, where we were greeted by smiling faces and out-stretched arms, Ghislaine cried when a lady took her from her mother's arms, and she clung tightly to me as we were given milk and food before being put into the London train.

       Through miles and miles, and miles again, of countryside we steamed, showing no traces of the horror that was behind us, save that everywhere were the khaki boys, that through long years were to stand side by side with us and suffer and die. God bless them, every one! God bless England, and may we neither of us ever forget that we are brothers indeed !

       But I must hurry on with my story. A home was found, and nobody seemed as if they could do enough for me. Much that happened I did not at all understand; for, although I knew everything that Ghislaine and her mother talked of, it was a long time before I grew to know the language of the English. Many details of our life and home I shall omit, but you must hear the tale of the new doll. Everybody loved Ghislaine at once, and before many weeks had passed by the ladies who used to visit us in our hostel made her the greatest pet of all the children there, and especially because she loved and played with me very contentedly for so many hours of each day. It all seemed very strange, I can tell you. Just a little bit of Belgium, cut out and planted down in another land where one heard the "vlaamigen" spoken in the streets almost every time we went out.

       Then came your wonderful Christmas, with its games and laughter, when, once again, all the ladies did everything that they could to make life good to us strangers. When Ghislaine woke up on Christmas morning, what do you think she saw? Hanging on the corner of her cot at the foot, a stocking, very fat and big, bulging out in the queerest lumps and corners. Up she scrambled to see whatever this might mean, and there, inside that stocking, was the most wonderful treasure-house of good things, including a wonderful new dolly that positively opened and shut' her eyes. For just a moment I did feel jealous, and then I looked at Ghislaine's face to see what she thought of it. Just as though she knew what I was feeling, she smiled at me as I sat on the end of the cot, reached out her hand, and gave me one mighty cuddle that soon told me I was second to nobody in her affection.

       Yes, the new dolly, brilliant with wax face, might open and shut her eyes, but I, I was the dolly that held her heart. Since then I have grown to be ashamed of my jealous feeling, not alone because Ghislaine was so loyal a little soul and stood by her first love, but because the English doll is such a good sort, and we live together the happiest and most perfect friends: a sign, let us hope, of the feeling that will ever endure between our races. Yes, the new doll was clothed and played with and cuddled just the same as I was, so that she too could have no feeling of neglect.

       So the years went by, and with startling suddenness came Armistice Day and the succession of events that led to peace again, and we Belgians had proved above everything else that, though we had sacrificed much, we had retained that which counts above all else, our soul.

       And then, one day, we set out upon the last stage of our great adventure,  the return home. For, good as England had been to us; much as she had given with both hands, one thing she could not provide,  the little Belgium, our native land.

       Memories of you are very sweet and pleasant, and I am glad that I, a Belgian dolly, should have grown to know you and your English life so well, but for me always it is the little Belgium.

       And so we returned again to our village home, sadly torn and wrecked by the ravages of war, but still the best place on earth,  Home! I was especially nice to the English dolly for many weeks after our return, for I knew exactly how it felt to be quite alone among strangers, and many other little Belgian girls, beside Ghislaine, have played with the wonderful doll that came from over the sea with us and can go to sleep when she is laid down.

       Henri was not killed, although he is very lame in one leg; but now that we are all together again, what does that matter beside the many who gave up the greatest thing of all, their life?

       And so ends my Great Adventure.

"Dolls for Daughters and Kenzi’s Kidz works to support 

underprivileged children and their families in Colorado by 

providing toys, food, and more during the holidays, 

school supplies and clothing during the school year, 

and assisting families through community outreach,

 financial planning and professional support."