Detroit evening times. (Detroit, Mich) 1921-1958, 1942-09-14

Can't ne see
the drama in the underground
battles of the defeated ma
tions that aren't defeated. be
cause they won't stop fighting
Can't he feel kinship between
the American I'm an airplane
factory, the marine with
machine gun. and the hungry
HolIander or Frenchman or
Norwegian who hides a Ratchet
in his attic and waits for the
time 10 use 1t:
Can't he take any eNultation
from their small triumphs, and
doesn't he feel honest outrage at
their torture:
These magazines and pam
phlets are the only voice with
which they dare speak. This
scornful editor didn't mention
names. but from the descrlp-
ton. I think the magazine he
meant was Knickerbocker
Weekly.
I have some copies Of il. Has
he read the magazines story OF
a hardware dealer in Utrecht?
He operated Nebbeling's Metal
Company, on Vinkeburk street,
SAYS the article. One day he
audaciously display ed a window
full of hatchets and a sign:
"Arm yourself. IL will last
only n few weeks longer. You
can chop with this small Ratchet.
Even n woman or n child can
handle II. The price Is l.Io
guilders."
Nebbeling, says Knickerbocker
Weekly. was sent to IAN undis-
closed destination" but before
the police picked him UP, the
hatchets were sold and hidden.
From England comes a paper
named London Calling"
II tells the story of Karel Kut-
felwascher. who has shot down
% German planes. Kuttelwas-
cher is a Czech, What's the
difference between Kuttelwas-
cher and the man with the
matches in Utrecht, except that
the Czech reached England and
the Hollander didn't?
Over the page is a story OF
Mrs. Barton whose house is the
only one left standing on four
streets in her part of London.
"Undreds an undred OF
'ouses," she says, "and all with
families and children. And four
general shops-aIl smashed up.
could tell you by them lamp
posts who lived in them.
"An' now after 4 o'clock you
don't see a soul, don't see no
body. I'm SO and I've been ERE
all me life. I never thought I
should see 'omes burning all
around me. I never thought I
should live alone in Catherine
street"
Is there any difference between
the man with the hatchets in
Holland, and the man who got
away from Czecho-Slovakia, or
Mrs. Barton who has seen the
little world of Catherine street,
London, disappear?
If there isn't any difference,
then what's the difference be-
tween them. and us?
II we can't see some point in
mourning over the rubble of
Catherine street. and sharing
the stiff-necked pride Of the
man who dared sell his hatchets
in Utrecht, then let's admit
right now that humanity is a
sham and shut up shop. Let's
forget that America has ever
been the worlds melting pot
III we're going 10 pretend we
don't care what happens In Eu-
rope. then let's pretend we're
ashamed Of what happened In
1T76. While we're at 10. let's tell
kurusu we're sorry we called
him a cheat and a liar, and lets
apologize 20 Japan for letting
Pearl Harbor and Wake Island
get In the Jap's way.
Should we begrudge the ink
and paper 10 tell the story OF a
Belgian aviator, now in the
Raj. who helped bomb Bremen
and told what he was thinking
about?
'He was thinking Of a country
road In Belgium, damned with
refugees. And he remembered
one thing pa 'ticularly. Even
better than he remembered these
still figures lying In the dust,
even better than he remembered
a baby's perambulGtor riddled
with machine gun bullets, ne
y remembered the face Of the
gunner In the cockpit OF a Ger
man plane, young and sunburnt
and laughing as he fired"
II we don't care about them
how dare we sing about our
sweet land Of liberty" Since