But there were some striking similarities between the French camps and our own. Consider a 1940 letter from a kindergarten teacher interned at Gurs. “Imagine, if you can, our camp with about 700 children under the age of 18,” she wrote. “The youngest is 2 months old. We don’t even know the names of the parents of many of these children. These children do not understand why they are shut up in this terrible camp now. We can’t give them enough food, we can’t wash them, and they can’t even play but must sit about freezing in the cold, dark and dirty barracks.”

Reading this, I couldn’t help thinking of Clint, where the young detainees, ranging in age from a few months to 17 years old, were separated from their parents with no idea if or when they’d see them again. Kids of all ages received the same scant rations — instant oatmeal, instant noodles, a frozen burrito for dinner — and were reported to be hungry. Children as young as 8 were caring for toddlers, some of whom lacked diapers. All were living in filth, without soap or toothbrushes. Many caught the flu.

In certain ways, compared to the French camps, conditions in our detainment centers are actually worse. One refugee in France complained about not having fat in which to cook his fresh vegetables. Our young detainees have no fresh produce at all. Unlike in Clint, where the kids weren’t even given toothbrushes, inmates at Rivesaltes Camp in France had access to a dentist (though, as a letter-writer points out, the dentist had to work without a drill). At Gurs, women and children at least had beds or cots, and “coverlets” that were “sufficient in number,” while children in Clint have been sleeping on the floor in freezing cells, coverless, the lights kept on at all hours.

One inmate at Les Milles, the mother of a sick child, wrote that life in the camp was “terrible for me, and for my poor little boy, who had to witness such abominable scenes.” Amid the misery, one can’t help but note that at least she was caring for her own child, and that the sick boy had the comfort of his mother’s presence.

The inmates in France also had access to the outside world. They wrote letters, and well-wishers sent gifts — a package wrapping preserved in Fry’s archives, addressed to an inmate at Vernet, is marked “cadeau.” The border station in Clint, on the other hand, has turned away gifts of food, diapers and clothes.