Hundreds of men fleeing war and misery without their loved ones found themselves stuck at the Croatian border with Slovenia Sunday, as families travelling together continued on their long, muddy route to a new life in western Europe.

"The families with children have gone through. There are five more places on the bus!" shouts an interpreter, triggering a rush for a seat among the crowd of refugees and migrants stalled at Bregana, Croatia's border post with Slovenia.

Their bodies packed against the railing that separates the two countries, crowds of men travelling alone and mainly aged 20 to 40 try desperately to catch the attention of two Arabic-speaking interpreters Jamal and Wael.

"I've been here for three days!" shouted out a man with greying hair. "I'm Iraqi!" called another, hoping that his nationality might get him a ticket out of Croatia and into the passport-free Schengen zone.
Wearing helmets and carrying shields, Slovenian police officers stand guard. Firmly but without any of the violence seen on other borders such as Hungary's recently, they push back anyone who tries to climb over the fence and enter Slovenia illegally.

On Sunday, after the migrants spent a night under the rain, there appeared to be a new policy in place and families with children were allowed to enter Slovenia first -- a change from the chaos seen Saturday at the same crossing.

When the migrants and refugees gathered at the railings at 7:30 am (0530 GMT) in the hope that they would be allowed onto the buses, word got round that on Sunday, women and children would go first.

- Joy, frustration -
The border crossing at Bregana is just one of many bottlenecks the migrants face, many of them Syrians fleeing war, on a journey along various complex routes from Turkey to Europe.

With the new system in place at the Slovenian-Croatian border, most families manage to get on three buses to a reception centre in nearby Brezice where they will be registered and then allowed to continue onwards to Austria.

People entering Slovenia on Sunday celebrated with embraces and cross the police line wearing big smiles. Some men keep a close watch on their wives and children to make sure no one has been separated.

On the other side, men travelling alone applaud for the lucky ones who have made it across. But once the families have gone, their sympathy gives way to frustration and exasperation.

"There was a woman accompanied by 10 other people -- they aren't all from the same family. Identities should be checked!" said Mustafa, an Iraqi engineer.

"Nothing's organised," he sighed.

A heavily-built man with a beard shared his frustration. "What must I do to be allowed through? Break a leg?" he said.
"It's been four hours since I've been standing here, waiting, but I can't move from here or else I will lose my place," said 22-year-old Mohammad, a Syrian medical student from the devastated city of Homs.

Right then, a young man tries to jump the queue, triggering a scuffle.

Mazen, a 60-year-old with wounds to his skull from rifle butts, sits on the side, surrendering to exhaustion.

"I am an old man, I can't squeeze into that crowd," said Mazen, a Christian who had to leave behind his Baghdad hotel and restaurant in August.

"I will wait until there are fewer people to cross over to the other side," he said.

But younger people in the crowd open up a space for him, and he becomes one of the next in line to go across to what many here call "the right side" of the border.
Source: AFP