Evening star., 1945-10-09

"lll 4dll W O14oW
up. You have Lowell Meliett.
to get back to Washington. You
are worried and so you try to
worry the girl behind the counter.
She takes your worries in her stride.
You resent the passengers who
trot out to the loading steps with
no troubles on their minds. Where
did that young mother, carrying a
baby, get her pull? And that old
chap in carpenters clothes? And
those three sailors, who look too
young to be travelling?
What kind of a country is this,
anyway?
The loudspeaker blares your
name. You hustle to the counter
and spell your name again and tell
the girl how much you weigh and
there YOU are with ticket in your
hand, stepping out to the plane.
The ticket is good only to Atlanta,
but the girl is sure something will
turn up there. Something does. A
cheerful girl breaks the news that
all flights north have been can
celed because of weather condi-
tions. Weather conditions! What
kind of a country
You have become displaced per-
son.
But, says the girl, Pullman &C.
commodations have been obtained
for all passengers and the train
leaves in two hours. A mad scram-
BILE at the station, but you get your
Pullman berth. Then you push a
tray around the station cafeteria
and the T-bone steak, bought with
deep misgivings, turns out to be a
very good steak, indeed. No cocktail
for an appetizer, to be sure; not in
Georgia; not, at least for strangers
passing through. What kind of a
country
Your Pullman car fills up, mostly
with soldiers who have just re-
ceived their final discharge papers
in nearby camp and are disposed
to do a little whooping. They fall
all over you in their exuberance,
and share with the whole car what
their mothers and wives and sweet
hearts said on receiving their tele-
phone calls. They smoke and litter
the aisle with cigarette butts. The
patient porter expresses a pious
hope that the conductor won't take
it out on him, but says no more;
he's been out of the Army Just
three months himself.
The boys, expecting to continue
their jubilation all night, find they
are too tired. BY 10:30 all are in
their berths, the car is dark and
quiet. Next morning, the porter
having had to get some sleep in
the meantime, the car is still a
mess. The familiar sleeping car
smell is just little more sour
than usual. The washroom is an
overcrowded shambles. But while
you've visited the diner and eaten
a good-enough breakfast, the car
has been cleaned up, fans are
blowing the smell away and you
can ride in peace If the boys don't
step on you.
Travel in the U. S. A! Twenty
two hours to Washington! A plane
would have done it in seven hours.
What kind Of country
It's a pretty good country. No
where did one see endless lines Of
shabby old men and women, carry
ing bundles; mothers, carrying
babies; wide-eyed, hungry looking
children: all struggling along the
highways toward destinations they
might never reach. Nowhere did
one see mother staring vacantly
at baby, dead in her arms; no
where a baby staring frightened
at the face of mother from which
the light of life has gone. No.
where any of the scenes that the
newspapers and newsreels have
made familiar to us, illustrating
travel as millions Of displaced per-
sons know 1t in devastated Europe.
What kind of a country, the
u. s.. A? It's a comfortable coun-
try and, let's hope, generous. The
President has asked Congress to