When Nijmegen sleeps, the day starts

Behind the scenes, there’s an impressive machine at work. ‘It’s basically a small city that we build,’ Hans begins. ‘A 24-hour organisation that exists solely to help others.’ One week ahead of the start, the first lorries packed to the brim turn up. Beds, bandages, medical equipment, walkie-talkies: everything you need for a week of round-the-clock emergency care. After calling the municipal theatre home during the 4Days Marches for many years, they are now temporarily housed at Radboud University’s sports centre. ‘They basically just give us the key,’ says Han. ‘Within a time span of only a few days, we convert it into a place where hundreds of people can sleep, eat and work.’

Every ten kilometres In total, there are roughly 800 volunteers involved. They staff support posts along the route and they arrange transport, logistics and medical assistance. ‘Every ten kilometres, we have a large support post with dozens of medical staff ready to help,’ says Han. ‘There we treat everything that comes our way. From blisters to serious medical situations.’ The volunteers get up early, have breakfast at one thirty in the morning and head out to their post around two thirty. ‘We are a 24-hour organisation. While one shift is still fast asleep, another is already on its way out.’

Major drill Han himself starts around seven o’clock. First a quick check in the control room: all are posts staffed, are the supplies in place? Next, a meeting with the team and coordinators. ‘Sometimes you really have to adapt quickly. When the weather turns, we suddenly get a lot more blisters due to the rain. That’s when the waits get longer and you have to come up with solutions.’ It’s a dynamic that makes the work intense, but also special. ‘The 4Days Marches is a major drill for us. It has everything. If we do well here, we know that the Red Cross is ready for real crises.’

Family At the end of the day, it’s the people who make the difference. When the volunteers come in on Monday, it’s always a special moment. Han, beaming: ‘It’s a warm reunion for everyone. These people often see each other just once a year, but have been working together for dozens of years. It feels like a family.’

And then, after four days and thousands of treatments, comes the moment of rest and reflection: the Saturday afternoon. Han: ‘That’s when everything has been tidied up and the last lorries have left. Before we lock the door behind us, there’s always time for a hot snack with the last volunteers. And then I think to myself: there you go, we’ve pulled it off again.’