May 1940: L'Exode (The Exodus) or "The traffic jam from hell"

French refugees on the road of the Exodus, 19 June 1940, near
Gien, France. CC-BY-SA 3.0.
This photo was taken by a German soldier.

    Between May 10, 1940 when the Germans invaded western Europe, and the end of June, when France surrendered, a massive migration, one so biblically enormous, it was given the name l'Exode (the Exodus) in France.  

    The 8-12 million affected people were a mixture of refugees from Belgium, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands, but also internally displaced persons (IDP) from within France itself, and they all had the same goal: to get farther from the front, to find safety.

    Regardless of nationality, people sort themselves into three groups in tense situations: 1) the exceptionally good people who rise above the situation and try to help those around them; 2) the genuinely bad people who heartlessly take advantage of the desperation of others; and 3) everyone else, the desperate masses who just do what they can to survive.  This last group is massive, usually comprising over 90% of the participants. 

    It's hard to capture what the Exodus in 1940 was like, and hell, it's hard to even imagine it. Millions of people were on the road, stuck in a traffic jam from hell that lasted not hours, but weeks.  People were on foot, on bicycles, in horse-drawn carts, or in automobiles.  But mostly, they were on foot.  The average speed was 1-3 miles (2-5 km) per hour.

    There was a heatwave, and there wasn't enough food, water, or fuel. There were no sleeping arrangements, showers, or even toilets.  People were packed closely together with their dogs and horses, and surrounded by clouds of automobile exhaust.  The smells must have been intense.

    There were constant threats of crime, violence, and chaos. People were beaten for their food. Women were raped. Children were occasionally separated from their parents (sometimes permanently), and war profiteers charged people exorbitant fees for sips of water, and a simple sandwich might cost a week's wages. 

    And the Luftwaffe and their dreaded Stuka dive bombers made a habit of not just strafing Allied soldiers, but columns of refugees as well. There are a couple of scenes in the 2017 movie Dunkirk that show what it was like:

    Note: that weird high-pitched whining sound that sounds like an anvil dropping on Wile E. Coyote's head (link to short clip that includes the sound) wasn't an air-raid siren, nor was it an artifact of the Stuka engine noise. Rather it was psychological warfare in the form of ram-air sirens mounted on the Stukas themselves.  They were called "Lärmgerät" (noise devices) but nicknamed "Jericho Trumpets."   

    My grandparents and great-grandparents joined the Exodus of 1940. And they did it with my newborn Aunt Lilly, my grandmother, who wasn't producing enough milk (probably due to terror and the deprivations of the trip itself), and my great-grandmother, who suffered from tuberculosis.  My grandfather told me about the taxi he hired (but not how they avoided running out of fuel), about the traffic jam, but not how long they were on the road, about who he took with him, but not about their misery.  He summed up the experience in a single word: pathetic. I think he was describing not just the stasis of the troops, but how he and his family felt.

    

     So after Lillian was born, and as soon as we could move – I didn’t have any car at the time, so I rented a taxi cab – and in the taxi cab, big taxi cab: Roma and myself and the baby Lillian, a few days old, and my father and my mother, and Felicie who was like family, and in addition the cab driver and his wife and a child, were all squeezed in one big taxi cab. We started escaping from Brussels. 

     Well, you couldn’t do more than ten miles a day at most, because the highway was crowded and millions of people who remembered the war – the first World War, 1914 to 18 ... So they wanted to escape and be on part of France where the front would never arrive.  So millions of them were moving; including fire trucks with people on it. And including ambulances with people on it; etcetera, etcetera. Completely packed by millions of people. And English and French and Belgian troops couldn’t move because of the civilians packing the highways.

     It was pathetic.

--Arthur Lubinski, Oral Testimony, 1988

Source: https://www.odomez.fr/
Note the mixture of cars, bikes, and pedestrians

    When I recorded him, Grandpa said they traveled ten miles (16 km) a day, and the route I think they took (which is admittedly a guess), from Brussels to the coast, and then along the coast to Montreuil-sur-Mer, France, taking them right past Dunkirk and Calais, was 180 miles (290 km). I think they also hoped to reach England, so a coastal route made sense. He also said:

 And we arrived at the North Sea. In the … you would say “state.” In French, it is département, department – but that means state if you want – of Pas-de-Calais on the English Channel. 

    The North Sea comment also suggests a coastal route. I'm not certain if they stopped in the city of Calais or just the region of Pas-de-Calais, but in 1988, I got the impression he meant both, although I'm not entirely sure.

The route my grandparents might have followed during the Exodus of 1940
Interactive Google Maps Link

    My research suggests that a key route during the Exodus was from Brussels to Lille in France, and from there to Paris and then to Bordeaux. But we know they went to Pas-de-Calais, and Paris and Bordeaux were in the wrong direction for that.  It's possible they went to Lille first, and then turned north, but that route and the stops they must have made (they stopped every night in a town with a maternity clinic for my grandmother's benefit), and that would have added a day or two to the trip.  So, I think they made a beeline for the coast.

    Another problem is that if they traveled only 10 miles a day, then the dates don't work - it would have taken them 18 days to arrive in Montreuil, where they stopped for several weeks (a dairy farmer took them in).  However, at 10 mpd, they would have encountered many of the areas after they had fallen to the Germans, whereas his story as a whole suggests that they encountered German soldiers only at the end of the trip.

    So, I started researching the Exodus to see how far people typically traveled in a day:

• On foot:  6-12 miles per day (10-20 km). This was the majority of the refugees.
• Bicycle or horse-drawn cart: 12-18 miles per day (20-30 km)
• Car: Up to 20 miles per day (32 km).  Autos were less common, there were serious fuel shortages to contend with, and many cars were abandoned after they ran out of gasoline. 

    I also have the sense that the trip took less than 2 weeks, probably about 10 days, based on their departure date (May 15), the length of time they spent in Montreuil (3 weeks), and the approximate date they returned to Brussels (after the cease-fire went into effect in France on June 25, 1940).    In those days, cars traveled nearly as quickly as they do today, and under normal conditions, they would have made that drive in about 3 hours.

    The return journey to Brussels would have been tremendously easier. The roads had mostly cleared by then, and the French government offered fuel vouchers with short expiration dates to encourage people to fill their gas tanks as soon as possible and go back to where they came from.   

Well, after three weeks France capitulated. There was no reason for going farther south. So we went back to Brussels, and found our beautiful apartment in town.  

    Grandpa's taxicab would have made the trip back to Brussels in only a few hours.  He didn't tell me this outright, but given his complete lack of detail regarding the round trip (there was probably nothing to tell), I think it's a safe bet.

    But, I do have to figure out how to capture my grandparents' Exodus, because it was miserable and integral to their story, but ... it was two weeks of boredom, punctuated with terror and misery. I want to convey that it was a boring experience, but without making it boring to read.

Bibliography:

• https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exode_de_1940_en_France (in French, but if you set your browser to translate, it's a good read).
• https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Exodus_(1940)
• https://webdoc.france24.com/exodus-france-german-invasion-war-1940/
• https://www.france24.com/en/20200304-eighty-years-after-millions-fled-the-german-army-revisiting-the-paris-exodus
• https://www.landofmemory.eu/en/sujets-thematiques/the-exodus-of-1940/

Movie Review: Superman (2025)

 

    I really liked this movie.  It was a lot of fun, and it pulled me out of my overthinking head for a couple of hours, and that's always appreciated.

    I like comic book movies, and always have, though comic books themselves aren't really my thing. I think it's because comic books have a simpler focus, and that translates really well to the screen. It's no coincidence that the storyboards that movie makers create as part of movie development, look like ... comic books.

    I loved the fact that the fight scenes were slowed down and easier to follow (there was a 20-or-so-year trend toward chaotic fight scenes in both DC and Marvel movies, that I hated - if I can't tell what's going on, then the violence turns into a boring slog). The acting was also really good, and Nicolas Hoult might well be my favorite Lex Luthor.  

    It wasn't without flaws: the plot was too complex, and there were too many heroes and villains, and all of that diluted the story.   It was an ensemble movie in search of a single, central protagonist.  I wanted to know more about so many of the characters, and they all felt a little short-changed.

    I hated the fact that the recording by Jor-el and Lara was in Kryptonian. The focus was always on the impact of the message on the characters of the movie, and never on the message itself.  First, you see how their telling Kal-el to do good helps to shape him into a hero, then when the message is repaired, the focus is on how much it devastates Clark, and how it turns the world against him.  But when I saw the message, all I saw was a couple speaking a made-up language, and that made Clark's bioparents seem kind of like background noise. They translated the message, but that just made it look like a lie, a manipulation on Lex's part.  It turns out to be true, but we were told it was real, not shown.

    What did I like about the movie?  It was damn fun.  I missed seeing his childhood a little, but as my husband pointed out, they can't tell the 1978 movie over and over again, and we know the story. I enjoyed Crypto, the fact that Lois (at least in private) could provoke Clark into getting mad (and she did ask some very pointed, very reasonable questions that absolutely pointed out that Superman had acted thoughtlessly).  

    Was the broohaha over his being an immigrant warranted?  Nah.  

    There certainly was some political commentary there - the movie seems to depict either the Israel-Palestine or Russia-Ukraine war, and that one fictional world leader might have been poking fun at a couple of real-life people.   But the movie connects Superman, not so much to immigrants, but rather to "meta-humans," other powerful beings. When so much power is concentrated in a single individual, it's pretty reasonable to worry about what they are going to do with it, because power corrupts and all that.  It's basically the same theme of "distrust the mutants" that featured in many of the X-Men movies.

   For now, it's my third-favorite DC superhero movie, after Wonder Woman (2017) and Superman (1978).  

The Bridge Inspector

Silver Bridge Before Collapse; Point Pleasant, W. Va. A&M 3914, Duez Collection
Virginia and Regional History Collection, West Virginia University Libraries.

 Prompt - Unknown Town (500 words): Grab a map of the country you live in and look for the name of the town that you have never heard of before. Do some research on the town so that you build up a picture of the location and its history. Use this town within a story of 500 words or fewer.

*** 

     James was working late, and his cell phone rang.  He put his pencil down on the yellow pad where he was jotting some notes and poked the answer button. “James Mason, Point Pleasant Engineering.”

    “Mr. Mason, this is Governor Tim Pawlenty of Minnesota.”

    James felt his stomach clench. There was only one reason the governor of Minnesota would be calling an engineering firm in West Virginia, but he hoped he was wrong.

    “We just had one of our big bridges collapse in the cities - the I-35 bridge over the Mississippi in Minneapolis.  The NTSA recommended I get you up here.”

    Damn it.  James felt his arthritic knuckles complain and forced himself to relax his grip on the phone.  “Ok, I’ll get on a plane this evening.”  

    Governor Pawlenty continued, his voice tense, “I’ll have my office buy you tickets, and we’ll put you up in a hotel for as long as you need. What’s your nearest airport?”

    “Huntington Tri-state, but buy two tickets out of Port Columbus. I’ll drive the 80 miles. Don’t book anything earlier than 4 hours from now. I’m bringing my intern.”

    “Done.”  Pawlenty hung up.

    Joan had heard James’ half of the conversation. “Hey Boss, what’s up?” she called from her desk.

    James sighed, folded up his laptop, and started grabbing equipment from the shelf. “I-35 bridge in Minneapolis collapsed. You see anything on the news?”

    “What??” Joan asked but was already looking at her brand-new cell phone.  What was it called? iPhone? Smartphone?  She could do web searches on it, though.  “Oh my God. It looks bad, James.”

    “Well, go home and pack. Get dinner. We’re getting on a plane in 4 hours and taking a red-eye to Minneapolis.  I’ll pick you up in an hour or so.”  

    “Ok, will do.” She shut down her computer, gathered her things, and left.

    James drove to his home on the other side of Point Pleasant, glancing at the Mothman statue on his way.  His wife looked up from the papers she was grading and knew from his face what had happened. “Another bridge collapse?”  

    He nodded. “Likely neglected infrastructure. I’m flying out tonight from Columbus. I’m taking Joan.”

    “Jamie, you’re getting too old for this.”

    “I’ll be okay. I’m more worried about Joan.  She’s been studying engineering disasters for a year, but I’d hoped that she’d complete her internship without having to see one live, but … I can help her through it this way.”

    An hour later, James collected Joan and then drove across the Silver Memorial Bridge into Ohio, bound for the airport.  

    Joan gazed out the window. “Cantilever bridge. Replaced an eyebar chain suspension bridge that collapsed in … 1968?”

    James kept his eyes on the road.  “1967. I was 20. My dad was on the bridge when it collapsed. I switched my major from physics to engineering because of it.”

    Joan’s eyes widened. “Jesus, James.  That’s awful.”

    James felt his eyes prickle and blinked the moisture away.  “I’d hoped to prevent it from ever happening again. But there have been 36 bridge collapses in the US since then, 375 killed; 365 injured.”  

    He clenched the steering wheel. “This makes 37,” he said, trying to breathe out his rage and pain, and they sat in silence until they reached the airport.

--April 18, 2021

***

Notes:

• The two bridges really did collapse, but other than that, this is entirely fictitious.
• I asked Siri to pick a number from 1-50. I got 35. West Virginia was the 35th state to enter the union. 
• I pulled up a list of towns in WV and found that there are 160. Siri gave me 31, and that was Point Pleasant.
• From there, I read about the Silver Bridge collapse in 1967, and that reminded me of when a much-closer-to-me bridge collapsed, the I-35 Bridge in Minneapolis, on August 1, 2007.  And from that, this bit of flash fiction was born.
• I missed my word count - this is 547 words.