Evening star., 1941-05-07
BY ROBERT ST. JOHN,
The Stars SDecial News Service

ing my obituary here in Cairo.
I had been killed, they thought,
in a sardine boat that hit mine
in the Adriatic Sea. Or in troop
train machine-gunned along an
Ionian cliff. Or in a bombed hos
pital in Peloponnesus.
But now I am back from the land
of the dead.
There were clean white sheets on
the beds when I arrived in Cairo.
I touched the sheets gently. We
hadn't seen sheets in four weeks.
They were real sheets. Symbols of
civilization. And taxis were honk-
ing in the streets.
There was butter, rich yellow
butter. on the tables.
People we're laughing. People
were drinking cocktails. People
were dancing.
No Planes Over Cairo.
You can sleep nights in Cairo,
You can sleep because no airplanes
come over Cairo. But we did not
sleep. I still cannot sleep. They
have torn up my obituary, but I still
belong in the land of the dead.
War is just a lot of noises and
smells. Not very pleasant noises
or smells either Bombs make the
flesh creep when they come whistling
down toward you.
Then there is the dull noise when
they land. And there are noises
people make. You can forget other
noises, but not those of war.
There was the noise made by a
Greek girl of or 6. She lay on a
mattress on the floor of the white
washed hospital in the Greek town
of Argos. We lay on mattresses
scattered around her.
Girls Sobs Bar Sleep.
1t was inky dark. She sobbed soft
ly. None of us could sleep. She
sobbed repeatedly, uttering a Greek
word We could not understand. It
was like litany
"Blimev. what's wrong with the
little tyke?" asked a British soldier
beside me, ignoring the wounds
which were going to cost him his
own life the next day.
why does she sob?' I asked the
nurse who was doing her best to
make these bomb-blasted pieces of
humanity comforta BILE.
The nurse turned on her fash
light. Then I saw what was wrong.
The child's right arm was only
half an arm.
There were no doctors in Argos to
make a clean amputation.
What does she sob?" I asked.
"She cries for her mother" said
the nurse and bit her lip. But
the mother was dead So was the
childs father. So were other chill
dren like this girl.
Now I am in Cairo, but I can
not sleep because the little Greek
girl in Argos with only a piece of
an arm still sobs for her mother.
I cannot sleep because there was
a man lying on the lawn of the
emergency dressing station near the
Greek coast who had lost his arms
and legs. We thought he was dead.
The nurse said he would be in a few
minutes. No one could bother about
him.
The bandages must be used on
those who had chance to live.
Screams Hatred at Planes.
Then suddenly he started to
scream. They told me he was
screaming hatred at the airplanes
which rain death from the sky. He
lay there screaming for hours.
We asked a passing ambulance
driver for narcotic pills. We forced
them into his mouth. But the
screams went on.
How can any one sleep between
clean white sheets when a man lies
on the grass in a Greek town
screaming because he has no other
way of expressing his hatred of
planes which dropped suffering on
quiet Greek towns?
How can any one sleep when he
hears the sobs of that woman in
Corinth who wanted some one to
give her enough morphine 50 that
she could 60 to sleep forever and
forget she would never be able to
walk again?
or the curses of an old man We
saw digging with his cane In the
rubble of what had been his home
for the wife he left there when he
went into the street to see why the
sirens we're blowing?
Unforgettable Noises.
Then those noises which came
from the 3O-car hospital train full
of wounded after bombs had set 1t
afire. Those are noises of war men
don't forget.
I heard those noises from Bel
grade to Mylos when undefended
cities, sleeping villages and towns
were attacked by planes which flew
so low that you could almost see
the faces of the men behind the
guns. I know what every one else
knows who has been through 1t.
know that the determination Of
the Yugoslavs, the bravery OF the
Greeks and the resolution Of the
British are all of no avail when
they have too few planes to keep
off the machines which make these
horrible memories.
That is the secret of war as 1t Is
being fought today.
Now 1 am in Cairo where people
dance and sing and ride in taxicabs
and eat rich yellow butter and sleep
between snowy white sheets. But
I still cannot sleep because these
noises of war beat through my head.
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