Belgian border — leave or wait out the storm

The Belgian family we follow — parents, their three children and a grandmother — lives in a small town near the Franco-Belgian border. Their situation is representative of countless households whom the invasion of 10 May 1940 suddenly places before an immediate choice.

In this region, the memory of 1914 is vivid. The names Louvain and Dinant, martyr-towns burned at the start of the Great War, pass from mouth to mouth. When news of the invasion broke on the morning of 10 May — Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg attacked together — each person weighs what there is to fear and what there is to lose. Whether one bundles up a sheet, tinned food and papers, or barricades the house, the decision binds everyone.

On the neighbouring roads, columns are already lengthening, mingling with troops, crossing each other in opposite directions, and the most contradictory rumours pass from group to group about the German advance. To leave is the unknown, the grandmother's exhaustion, the children's fear, with no idea how long the war will last. To stay is to keep one's roof and one's work, but to expose oneself to fire and then to the occupier. On the doorstep of the house, the father must decide for them all.