pneumonia, diphtheria and tuberculosis will also begin to exact a toll among the weakened refugees. Says one doctor: The people are not even crying anymore."
Perhaps because what they flee from is even worse. Lach has his own horror story of rape, murder or other atrocity committed by the Pakistani army in its effort to crush the Bengali independence movement. One couple tells how soldiers took their two grown-up sons outside the house, bayoneted them in the stomach and refused to allow anyone to go near the bleeding boys, who died hours later. Another woman says that when the soldiers came to her door, she hid her children in her bed; but seeing them beneath the blanket the soldiers opened fire, killing two and wounding another. According to one report from the Press Trust of India (P.T.I.). SO refugees recently fled into a jute field near the Indian border when they heard a Pakistani army patrol approaching. “Suddenly a six month old child in its mother's lap started crying,” said the P.T.I, report. “Failing to make the child silent and apprehending that the refugees might be attacked, the woman throttled the infant to death".
Cordon of Fire
The evidence of the bloodbath is all over East Pakistan. Whole sections of cities lie in ruins from shelling and aerial attacks. In Khalishpur, the northern suburb of Khulna, naked children and haggard women scavenge the rubble where their homes and shops once stood. Stretches of Chittagong's Hizari Lane and Maulana Showkat Ali Road have been wiped out. The central bazar in Jessore is reduced to twisted masses of corrugated tin and shattered walls. Kushtia a city of 40.CXW) now looks, as a World Bank team, reported, “like the morning after a nuclear attack". In Dacca, where soldiers set sections of the Old City ablaze with flame-throwers and then machine-gunned thousands as they tried to escape the cordon of fire, nearly 25 blocks have, been bulldozed clear, leaving open areas set incongruously amid jam-packed slums. For the benefit of foreign visitors, the army has patched up many shell holes in the walls of Dacca University, where hundreds of students killed. But many signs remain. The tank blasted Rajarbagh Police Barracks, where nearly 1,000 surrounded Bengali cops fought to the last, is still in ruins.
Millions of acres have been abandoned. Much of the vital Jute export crop, due for harvest now, lies routing in the fields; little of that already harvested is able to reach the mills. Only a small part of this year's tea crop is salvageable. More than 300,000 tons of imported grain sits in the clogged ports of Chittagong and Chalna. Food markets are still operating in Dacca and other cities, but rice prices have risen 20% in four months.
Fear and deep sullen hatred are everywhere evident among Bengalis. Few will talk to reporters in public, but letters telling of atrocities and destroyed villages are stuck in journalists' mailboxes at Dacca's hotel Intercontinental. In the privacy of his home one night, a senior Bengali bureaucrat declared: “This will be bitter, protracted struggle, may be worse than Vietnam. But we will win in the end."
Estimates of the death toll in the army crackdown range from 200,000 all the way up to a million. The lower figure is more widely accepted, but the number may never, be
