Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1943-04-22

pushed the Second Front as the chief
topic of conversation among the
boys. Unless 1t be visit by the
President or an executive order
barring SPAN from the menu, can
think Of nothing that would send
the morale Of the troops skyrocket-
ing more than to have Hope and his
zaniness come right into the camps
on this side Of the Atlantic.
Bob would get more than the plush
carpet laid down for him. He could
cross the mud Of the camps on q
walk composed Of sergeants' backs
and use corporals and plain G. Is
for steps. The boys would be so ap-
preciative that they might even
present him with a genuine fresh
egg, one laid by hen and not by a
dehydrating machine and one which
he could have all by himself and not
have to share with Is other fellows.
Street Is Busy.
Then the sirens started their
caterwauling and I decided to let
the Hope letter wait while. It
seemed to me that it might be q
good idea just to look out Of my
window and write a little piece on
what a fellow sees and hears in
London during an alert" and how
the Londoners act and talk when
they know the Germans are some
where overhead
My apartment is perfectly located
for such eavesdropping. 1t is on the
ground floor and the window in
front Of which I am writing Is not
more than an arms length from the
sidewalk. 1t looks out on Downing
street and Downing street News.
Busy Picadilly is just a quarter Of
a block away. It's busy little street
Downing street is-and 1t is lined
with shops, apartments and pubs.
So here am at the window watch
ing Londoners of all sorts during
an alert" Directly across the street,
in shop so old that one can we'll
imagine Sir Walter Raleigh buying
tobacco there. Mr.. Angel Botibol is
serving his customer. He is meas
uring pipe tobacco in a pair of old
fashioned scales and the "alert"
hasn't altered the steadiness of his
hand.
Just outside Angel Botibors door
at the entrance to the News bobby
is stroking fat black cat that is
enjoying shaft of sunlight. Here
comes a schoolboy on a bicycle. He
is wearing a blazer and whistling
as if candy not bombs we're what
the Germans dropped For all he
seems to care he might just as we'll
be an American youngster riding
through the streets of Portland.
Chillicothe or Cambridge.
No One Is Excited.
Just outside my window three men
are unloading load Of coal. They
are arguing about a shovel in
dialect that I can hardly UNDER
stand. Now two middle-aged women
are just going by and this Is scrap
Of conversation hear:
Its absurd! Six coupons for a
blouse" "T'is bit dear, especially
when one would like to be a bit
gayer on Easter"
No one is hurrying. No one Is
talking excitedly. No one is looking
up, not even the American soldiers
who are saundering by whistling
snatches of Dearly Beloved" and
Don't Take Away My Sunshine"
A cab stops across the way and
out gets rickety old gentleman
with spaniel on leash. He care
fully counts his money and then
leads the pup across Picadilly into
the green park.
BY leaning out the window just a
bit, something I don't particularly
like to do despite my natural brave
ness, I can see the park. If
the walkers have heard the alert"
they don't show it. Central Park
on a Sunday afternoon never was
more serene. Idlers on benches,
pups frolicking, children toddling on
the grass among the flowers.
The flow of traffic on Picadilly was
undated. 1t certainly is true that
the British have gone themselves
one better. Whereas they once could
take 1t, now they simply ignore it.
The long, steady call of the all
clear" Is sounding. Now I'll get back
to that letter to Hope. Come on
over, Bob, you'll never regret It!