In the sleepy Austrian border hamlet of Helenenschacht, where six months ago Hungarian refugees by the dozens streamed across to freedom, an explosion last week brought the regulars in Schappl's Inn out into the raw, squally afternoon. Before them, on the Hungarian side of the double fence of barbed wire that now seals off the border, lay a young girl in agony. Her right leg was smashed and streaming blood, her face smeared with blood and mud. She rolled and writhed, all the time screaming. When she saw the Helenenschacht people she cried, "Please, please, help me, help me!"
The...
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