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Helen Fogg’s Unitarian Service Committee trip to Europe 1947

London to Prague by air - lv 7:25 a.m., arr. 1:05 p.m. Flying time - 3 hrs 25 min

Flight absolutely extraordinary for one not accustomed to covering roughly 600 miles in three hours. Came by British European airways. Everything perfection from start to finish – even the weather. Past over Folkestone - sight of the White Cliffs - over Nanuit, Wiesbaden, Frankfurt to Prague, nonstop. Clipper from U.S.A. landed immediately after us.

Prague looking lovely with flags everywhere – even on the trains. The Esplanade very spruced up and Ruth and I in what plainly is the most elegant room in the place – the only one with a balcony, directly over front entrance. Blankets faced with satin – huge satin puff – bathroom with colored tub like a Roman bath and two wash basins.

Immediately made for the Kavarna Slavia on a #22 train. Streets empty and shop shutters closed – Saturday afternoon. Kavarna Slavia rather deserted also. To the Charles Bridge and across, Ruth snapped pictures of the fisherman and the statues. Down the steps other side of bridge and a stroll through Little Venice. Everything far more beautiful than in my recollection of it. Bright sunshine probably had something to do with it. Feeling of autumn or Indian summer.

To the opera the first evening – August 23 – at the opera house next the Wilson station and just across the park from the hotel. La Boheme. Good seats – second row. The rococo but faded house filled with plain folk in shabby but adequate dress. An English speaking man jump from seat with offered to help us as we were trying in vain to understand the Czech peaking usher. As in Brno last year there were no stars, but all sang well with evident enthusiasm and enjoyment. Should say that all members of the cast were very young and like all Czech are doubtless very earnest. The tenor sang in Italian, all others in Czech. During one intermission while having a cigarette, got into a conversation with young Englishman who has been here for six months – in British Embassy, but obviously in minor role – faint suggestion of Cockney. He loves Prague. We said we’d like to stay forever to

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which he responded with enthusiasm. Said that is how everyone feels about Prague. Much applause - one curtain call after another. When we came out the cobblestones or glistening after a shower and the air was very fresh and cool.

Sunday morning – August 24 – up early, for a whole free day of sightseeing and exploration. Ruth had sketching materials. To the old town Square where work of

repair on the Town Hall and other buildings is in progress. Glorious day. Across bridge and up the Hradcany Hill just as the congregation from the cathedral was on their way down. Holiday spirit prevalent. Wandered into Cathedral where two sentries were standing guard by the skull of St. Adelbert all properly under glass and resting on a kind of altar. People kneeling before it. Nearby was small cart on which scull has been taken to churches all over the country before the final burial today in the crypt of the

cathedral. Masses of people wandering around – old peasant women eating their lunch of bread – on the curbing. Women from Slovakia in brilliant costumes – the puffed and pleated sleeves and red skirts – accordion pleated. Men in yellow knee breeches. While trying to find the Golden Street, woman who said she spoke English “a little“ and offered to direct us. Mistook our intended destination – Thought we wanted the train! Had to retrace steps – this time under guidance of another woman who spoke English a little better was so happy to have found us and to be able to speak to us. Looked up and down the Golden Street which would have been nice for Ruth to sketch but the sun had gone in and it was chilly and we were hungry. Went into one of the little houses from which we could look right down the side of the hill. Couldn’t see the bottom on account of trees. A self elected guide came in with us and gave mass of historical information. Problem now to get rid of the woman who was so happy to be with us. Could see we never would. Invited her to join us for a beer in little restaurant. She had had her lunch. We sat at the table where man and woman were already sitting. Offered cigarettes all around which caused our popularity to soar. Name of our guide – Mrs. Urban. The restaurant dark and crowded with solid, simple folk eating heartily. Ruth and I had delicious black bread, Roquefort cheese and beer, followed by coffee which wasn’t very good. Mrs. Urban suggested that we stay and see the procession of St. Adelbert’s skull followed by all the Bishops around the square which was supposed to begin at three. Like the opera it was late and by 3:30 I simply couldn’t

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stand In the sun another minute. Took the train down and sank into Kavarna Slavia for a coffee. Perused a couple of French newspapers and came home to sleep for an hour.

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After dinner sallied out for the tram to go see the Halals. Climbed the four flights of stairs only to come upon a dark apartment. Rang bell at the Bernards and greeted by mother and daughter but the Capitain was out – drinking as we understood from sign language. Daughter called him on telephone and while we waited we four tried to make ourselves understood in our respective languages. Captain B all gallantry when he arrived. Spoke of our visit as a grand surprise for him. Conversation most interesting. “Czechoslovakia needs no more material aid – needs only tranquility, tranquility, tranquility. All must work, work, work. Czechoslovakia wants to progress higher and higher by her own efforts. Appreciates a guy has been given but score and his idea of begging and begging for more wants to accomplish by her own efforts. She is not like Poland, and other Slavic nations, her culture is higher – she inclines to the west.” “How do you feel behind le rideau? All in agreement that there is no such thing. Where is it? In replying to my query about Marshall Plan – memory of Munich is still fresh – fear of Germany still strong. Decision based on political realism but does not indicate a love of Russia or a dislike of the west. “We are an island in the center of Europe.” Captain B. in Russia recently. The Sous-Colonel who was with him all the time remarked that he was a bon honome, but not a communist. Description of the days when Captain B. hid five American soldiers in the cellar amid the potatoes for three months. Thirty one visits from the Gestapo during that period. They came at one or two in the morning making a grand visit. The child screamed with terror – Mrs. B usually fainted. If they had discovered the soldiers –

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Captain B made gesture of having the throat cut. He has never heard from any of the five Americans. He has written to Washington about it. Mrs. B made coffee. We had 3 cups each not realizing at the time that the monthly ration is 2 ounces per person. Captain B said that I had the bonne nune this year which was nice to hear. At 10:45 got up to go. Interminable wait for a number nine tram – thought we might have to walk home.

—————————————————— August 25 – to Olesovice with Hitschmanova in the car belonging to the home and driven by a chauffeur who had the usual Czech disregard for everybody’s safety including his own. The home is really beautiful – linoleum on the floors and screens on the windows – everything perfection and cleanliness and the stocks of new clothing all ready for the winter. Was favorably impressed with the new director and wife who have two children of their own there. Was told to watch one more in particular who is unduly severe but think she was on good behavior. Atmosphere is very formal – the children go in lines, they keep their hands behind them while waiting for the food to be brought in, they are shushed when they talk too loudly , But I think the word military is too strong a one to apply to the situation. Certainly it is not the atmosphere of an American progressive school, but after all, this is Czechoslovakia, and this is the way European children are brought up. Think that a happy medium might be struck, but that would take time and personnel. Lunch consisted of good soup, a piece of something like French bread, carrots, fixed in some Czech manner, and dumplings - the “sweet” ones. Managed to down three of the five on my plate. Mrs. Novak was in Prague for the day so didn’t see her. She is leaving soon but on the whole I feel that is no catastrophe. She gives the children great affection which is no doubt what they need, but beyond that cannot do much. The children are adorable – particularly the little Dutch boy whom I remembered from last year. His expression changes constantly in the drollest way. Back to Prague and to Cedok where our tickets for Poland and back to Paris were received. Bought a lovely pink blouse – all handmade – not the typical peasant blouse but none of those were large enough. To the Kavarna Slavia for coffee and a look at the view.

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August 26 - Our start to the day is delayed three hours on account of misunderstanding on the part of the Oleaovice chauffeur who shuttled back and forth between Carlova 8 and one of the ministries, and was finally found by Hitschmanova who had finally gone to get French visa fixed up and came upon him in front of the office! She returned with him in triumph saying she was so proud to have found him. During the wait we pumped Hitschmanova on the subject of Czechoslovakia. She said – what we already knew – not to judge conditions by the Esplanade – that the Czechs naturally put their best foot forward for the tourists. Actually I wonder if that is such a good idea. Gave us the list of Czech rations. In regard to Marshall plan – said that really it is not a plan at all - that Russia offered good, concrete, commercial proposals. Said further insight for CS to import from France or Britain, she must pay for transportation across American zone of Germany in American dollars of which she hasn’t managed. Exports in great quantities to Switzerland as do all countries in Europe. Russia is 13th on the list. Talked about Poland - The baby who was found by the nurse four days after birth still dressed in the original shirt. The mother had no other. Nurse wrapped baby in bandages so shirt could be washed. Urgent need for diapers and even for bits of clean rags which come in very handy for a variety of uses. Told us of a restaurant in Warsaw amid the ruins where the most delicious prewar meal can be had. Opera house one of the first buildings in Warsaw to be rebuilt. Off to Lidice at 12:15 or so. It’s not very far from Prague so we didn’t get into real country until we were almost there. Passed through some lovely little villages –

ochre houses with red tile roof’s – stream of water and pond in the midst where the geese roam around. Willows around the ponds. Just after passing through one of these we came to Lidice. At first the barracks for the workers who will rebuild is distracting even though they are on the opposite hill side. There is also

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a kind of reviewing stand with “Lidice will rise again“ in all languages on it. In front is a planting of flowers and a tall wooden cross with a wreath of barbwire. However, with the exception of markers which mark such spots as the church, the site of Litice has not been touched. There is not a piece of wall nor foundation of a house left. The Nazis forced Czechs from the other villages – one of them within sight of Litice – to level the ground completely. They had to change the course of the little stream as today there is nothing but a marker to show where the pond was. We saw the site of Harah’s from where all the men were lined up and shot. There were also markers for the parsonage and church. The cemetery was very pathetic. It had been leveled too, and the tombstones smashed, but the survivors or people from the other villages have put up crude wooden crosses or pieces of stones which they have found, by guesswork. In contrast to the cultivation all around, nothing is growing on the side but scraggly grass and weeds. One of the most strikingly tragic aspects of the whole thing is the smallness of the place – the cool senselessness of the distraction of a village so harmless, tiny, and obviously defenseless.

On the way back to Prague we stopped for lunch at a little Inn in one of the villages. Wonderful having Hitschmanova with us because she could cope with the language. A tasty piece of meat, two slices of bread, beer and a cake – all delicious.

Left Prague at 2:45 to visit Kladroby, the hospital where Morce and Snaveling - therapists – are working. Drive of an hour and a half through gorgeous country - the road to Brno. Cultivated strips – forests – clouds massed in sky with sun shining through. The hospital very unimposing – had been used by the Germans as a convalescent home - later for a short time by the Russians. On a high hill overlooking wide valley. It has taken the two girls ever since they arrived, to get the equipment installed and to make a beginning. Good cooperation from the doctor who is one of the two in all CS who understand physical and occupational therapy and this because they were in England during the war. It seems dreadful to me that they should be pulled out just as they have got going - especially as they haven’t had the time to train anyone to carry on. Very short visit because car was supposed to be back in Prague at five. As it was, we made it at 6:45.

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Found Tonia Lechtmann from Piekary waiting here at hotel. She speaks French. Reminded me of the Spanish women both in looks and spirit. Emphasize the problem of housing, feeding and educating the 500,000 orphans in Poland. Told of the incredible efforts of both men and women in working two shifts a day - averaging two or three hours sleep a night. Particularly hard on the women who have homes (such as they are) and children to take care of. As many as 10 people living in one room. Her husband died at Oswiecine. Parents in Holland would like to have her join them but she prefers to stay in Poland were so many have suffered so much. She is not alone. Husband had been in international brigade in Spain - later interned in France. She was in France at the time. She understands now why he refused to leave the camp – his comrades who were ill needed him because he had health, buoyancy of spirit etc and without him there morale would have gone down. Remarked that the Dutch lost their morale very quickly. Spoke of the fears of the Poles - their determination to make a new life – of the joy that comes with the acquisition of another tea cup or spoon – their willingness to work and then work more. She had dinner with us. At 8:30 when I urged her to have another coffee, she said she had to go – that it would take her until 9 (when it would be locked) to reach her friends apartment. I insisted she had plenty of time, and then she admitted she would have to walk – that her briefcase with her Czech money had been stolen in Warsaw. Gave her 500 kroner and we had another coffee. She had plane ticket for flight to Holland tomorrow for weeks visit with parents. After she had left I realized she probably had her clothes in the briefcase to. Paderewski Fund - Equipment bought for 900 bed hospital and mobile units. Shipped to England and hospital set up in Scotland. Mannex by Poles. Head Doctor adored. Not liked in Poland. Hospital meant to come to Portland when liberated. It’s still not here. A year ago the mobile units shipped here with American Relief to Poland which wanted to take over ownership. Fund has no personnel here. American Relief put itself down as the owner – set up as a museum. Talk of our taking over. Fund in New York not politically minded. When Jones got here advised to keep hands off – would have had to fire 80% of staff. Heard buildings set aside in Bytoni. They

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have never come. Mrs. Mitana came over trying to clear matter but accomplished nothing. Said she didn’t want to work with ZUS. Decided on Warsaw. Found building outside. Went to England promising to get hospital moved and dismantled. Stuff which has come is setting in warehouses. Jones wants that turned over to us for this hospital on basis of using it until P. Hospital is ready. Start should be made on Mrs. Mitana. August 27 - Spent morning writing. Letter # 2 to Boston. To Kavarna Slavia for lunch. Then to Cedok to cash checks – to pick up blouse. Look in the bookstore near Kovarna Slavia for English translation of Karel Capek but there were none. Back to hotel to finish the letter and to get out of room by 6 PM. Now it is 9 PM and we board the Orient express at 10:30 - Katawice tomorrow morning. Later aboard Orient express Hysterical time at the Wilson station when we were deposited on the sidewalk with six pieces of luggage - three of which we wanted to check in baggage room. Porter understood neither English or French. Summoned another to aid – nobody around for sometime who could be talked to. Much interest as we pointed to the three saying “mit, mit,“ and to the other 3, “ leave in station.“ At long last a little man disengaged himself from crowd with the inevitable “Can I help you?“ Explained our situation which he conveyed to Porter, and we were off once more. Were waved through a gate which said “Vychod” to be confronted with a whole train – so it seemed - of third class carriages. We all – Including Porter – looked around some more and eventually came to a door labeled “Kontroler – Wagor-lits” A youth ninside spoke French as did another youth leaving from second class carriage. It seemed that the “sleepings” where in route from Paris and would be attached once they arrive. Kontroler offered to keep bags in his office for the next hour and we sallied into second class restaurant for a beer. Station was a shambles with weary people in all sorts of costumes sleeping on benches. It was all a far cry from the Esplanade just across the street, and one felt behind something, if not the Rideau de fer. We had our beer and looked around, and each was glad the other was there. A proper Gypsy camp-in – a woman – all alone and had a drink of a pink liquid. Back to the train, but no sign of the “sleeping‘s”. The youth in the train said, “He come – 15 minutes.“ After a long and unintelligible speech had been delivered over the loudspeaker, Ruth tried to take a picture of the scene and then

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tried to scratch. Our Kontroler kept going off and lock-in our bags up behind him which made me not a little nervous. However each time he assured us he would see us again. “Sleepings“ finally arrived on another track and a friendly Porter who had been talking to us and who had given Ruth a Czech magazine, put us on board. Carriage full of clergy with peculiar hats from which hung little green balls. Our compartment very elegant – two singles with the door between. Could travel for days in such a thing. Much laughter over our situation and the strangeness of everything. Piekary - Seeds - almost anything will grow – want Park to look nice – have many flowers. Alliance groups. Mostly surgery – small department. Internal medicine. Biggest hospital in Silesia – Silesia most important part of Portland – mines – industry plus an enormous food center. Best equipped hospital in all Poland. Laboratory Dash five large rooms – white tile – big windows. Complete diagnostic lab. Main building Dash five floors – pipes had frozen. Good deal of tearing down before rebuilding could take place. Building used as hospital first by Germans, then Russians. Latter didn’t loot much. Townspeople looted. August 28 - Orient express – 8 AM Passed Bohumien a short while ago and now are stationary at Petrovice – Le frontiere, Czech. Presently we shall come to le frontier Polonaise where les gargous from the buffet will come aboard and very welcome they will be. A misty day in the countryside is green. Have seen any number of pill boxes in the dark green fields. All the real Road and then have thin hard faces fortunately the attendant speaks French so we can get a question answered every now and then. Killing time at la frontiere Polonaise. Customs man had Ruth down as Hazel Brown - The two words representing the color of her eyes and hair respectively. My typewriter presented a problem. Man wanted it’s number. I had it out of the case and was searching for the same when he announced in triumph that it was a Remington 5. I didn’t argue, especially as it’s doubtful if any more Remington 5’s will be crossing the border within the next few days. Declared money with great Ceremony except that I didn’t declare my British pounds.

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Got off at Katowice and met by Dorothea Jones. That station far worse than the Wilson – the people a good many pegs lower in looks and clothing. Really a ghastly place. The weather dark and damp so perhaps the town and people looked worse than usual. Saw women sweeping the streets, mixing cement, digging a foundation – all heavy work. Children invariably without shoes. Pale, thin, faces are in permanent expression of pain. Rode out to Picnary in the truck. Had some coffee and then lunch. Spent afternoon going over the hospital which is complete surprise to me. Had expected a makeshift barracks sort of place. Instead it is all tiled magnificence - high ceilings – two operating rooms done in blue tile. Rooms for sun lamps, and inhalarium where steam or vapor can be inhaled. Isolation building. Central heating system. Garden and park being fixed up as grounds will be lovely. August 29 - Auschwitz - Oswiecim - 5,000,000 dead All guides former inmates. German criminals sent to set it up. Entrance - Arbeit macht frei. No one ever escaped through the double electric wire. Escapes only when the prisoners were out at work. Cement under wire goes down 6 feet. Lights on every other post. Lights in roads – armed guards. If anything touched wire – automatic signal at entrance. Forced orchestra and choir had to sing German songs at meals and when prisoners went to work. 60 Russian military prisoners of 16,000. Track running direct to crematoria. 20 to 30 men to gas 2000 people. Bins of hair cut from women – shoes – shaving brushes. 1200 to 1500 people in barracks. Baskets. All we see now is from the last transport only. Suitcases with addresses from nearly every country. Knives, forks, spoons. Thermos bottles – all valuables taken from prisoners sent back weekly to Berlin. Baby clothes. Paintings – allowed to paint for the SS men. Effect of this place is obviously one of utter horror. The immense bins of women’s hair – the bin of baby’s shoes and the baby clothes are perhaps the most horrible, but in such a place it’s hard to find any “most“. That anyone at all survived seems to me incredible. The daily death rate from the so-called “natural“ clauses was 300.

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This total was brought to over 600 by shootings etc. This in just one day. Completely exhausted when we got back here. Slept for two hours before supper. August 30 – Warsaw Press conference Censorship – internal – anti-Semitism – news that would incite terrorist groups. Censorship has as its aim internal calm. Foreign correspondence can write what they please – never altered or suppressed. Censorship considered temporary. Daily papers - 10

1. Workers Party 2. Socialist 3. Peasant 4. Democratic 5. Michal 6. Others run by cooperatives.

“Poland’s Place in Europe” “I saw new Poland” – Strang Industry – all nationalized if more than 50 employees. Now anyone can start a new industry with any number of employees. This if industry is starting from scratch. Misrepresentation in foreign press – “Why should we suffer because relations between Washington and Russia are as they are.“ “Would like individual attention.“ “Have a feeling it is beyond our power to change it. It is not fair to Poland . In the long run will be harmful to America. Our press trying to show Poland not reliable – not a good market for goods etc. Withholding of grain was an attempt to change foreign policy. We won’t die without this grain. It only means we will have to suffer for another year. Will get grain elsewhere – will buy it. America thus loses a market to the east. Poland not trying to isolate herself. Everything being done by Westerners to show Poland she has allies only in this part of the world. Reconstruction of Warsaw Point of view on Germany.

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Since Germany cannot be wiped out a modies revendi must be worked out. De-natzification and demilitarization must be accomplished. Absolute unity between allies is essential. Polish policy – looking for compromise between allies – came to bring them together. Otherwise Germany will rise. Should be re-organized as democratic country. International unified control. Would create German government responsible. Organize and develop light industry so Germany could live. If Germany is split the provinces will be against each other and they will use the big allies against each other. Can’t turn the clock back. Germans will aim at unity again. Will give the chance for a new Bismarck or Hitler. Another two years of friction between big allies - hope for a change then. “The Marshall plan doesn’t exist“ “A plan to rebuild Germany before other countries are we build.” 1 Position of women - Has never been like that German women. Healthy respect on the part of the man – respect for her as a person apart from sex. Women today doing heavy labor. Battalion in a ditch which was above their heads. Throwing up the shovelful‘s of dirt above heads. 2 Polish point of view towards Germans – very little subjective hatred - a great deal of fear. American foreign policy looks to them as aimed to rebuild Germany before countries which suffered and fought against Nazism. 3 Present government strong – leaders are working with fierce determination. Unsparing of themselves. Cannot be called oppositionists. August 30 - Warsaw Cake today. Upon arrival after freezing flight from Katowice – 1 1/2 hours with outside temp at zero and a bit higher, and no insulation or heat in the plane – we went to a coffee house which was absolutely jammed. Had black coffee and the most delicious French pastry sort of cake. This thawed us a bit and we tackled the tickets for return by sleeper. All ticket sellers out to lunch. Walked about a bit looking into the windows of the one story shops which have been built in front of the ruins. Conglomeration of things from cameras, microscopes, some peasant things, to pocket combs – all in a jumble.

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Walked and walked – always through ruins, and as far as the eye could see there were still more ruins. Incessant sound in the streets – horns, horses, hooves and the banging of hanging pieces of metal against the ruined walls. Even the lamp posts were twisted and the frames of lamps hanging and flapping. Little wine shop in a bricked up portion of ruins. The ghetto is a huge mound of bricks and sand covering acres and acres. Under the bricks our bodies. Germans ran bulldozers through it. Like Latice only on the larger scale, but Latice still remains the most dreadful of all sites. Warsaw is so big one can’t take it in. In the old city everything is still as death. No vehicles can get through the narrow streets. Houses almost meet above streets where they were standing. Is even more impressive than other parts of Warsaw because everything is in such a heap. Thought there was no one around until two children appeared from nowhere and then we came upon a hovel in the midst of the ruins were several old, old women were living. Some chickens scratching around outside. Met Bill Carey and the group of architects at the Polonia where we had the press interview with General Gorez. From there to the Club of Polish Soviet Friendship where we had a most inferior dinner. Had hoped to see a Russian feeling that I had seen everything in Warsaw except the Russians. However, the club was full of mostly ourselves except for the couple which danced. Think I need no notes to recall the girl - tight fitting brown jersey dress – dark brown cotton stockings – swooning act during slow dance – fat hand and arm waving as expression of something. Fast number followed, in which her stolid partner could show what he could do. Jump into an act clicking of heels. All of us hysterical with laughter. Night train to Katowice. August 31 - Piekary Another cold, wet day. Arrived here at 7:30 AM. Spent day writing a letter to Boston. Night train to Prague.

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September 1 - Breakfast at hotel Esplanade. Thankful to be in Czechoslovakia again where the sun was shining and it was warm. Prague looking lovely as more things in shops – probably for benefit of visitors to International Fair which opens in a few days. Plane to Paris – Czechoslovakia airlines – arrive Paris at 3:30 Paris time. To Hotel Cayre where we have two small rooms on the sixth floor. Ruth’s with a magnificent view across the roofs to Les Invalides. After registering went immediately to Deux Magots, was greeted by one of the old, sour garçons who never exchanged a word with me last year! Set and had two vermouths a piece and watched the passing show. Man with shock of hair whom I saw there all the time last year went by. Also the man who used to play backgammon. The old couple did not appear. To “Le Gozlin” for dinner but it is closed for repairs. Brassiere Lipp also closed, but found Brassiere Balzac under the same Management near the Cluny. Had the Choueuterie garnie and beer. Delicious. Back to Deux Magots for coffee. To bed – exhausted. September 2 – Paris To the office this morning where I made arrangements with Eleanor Clark and Mme. Betteneaner to visit three cases in and around Paris. Lunch at the Restaurant de Saints Peres. where Madame offered us each a vermouth. Everything unchanged – even to the waitresses – except that the tissue table cloths have red stripes this year instead of the blue. Price of a meal much higher and the bread unspeakable. Coffee also much worse except at Deux Magots where it is drinkable. To the Rodin museum which was closed, then to Luxembourg - also closed. The heat terrific. Sat in the gardens and drank a beer which was the worst beer ever tasted. In fact, no taste at all. Only virtue was the price which was extremely low. Then to rue de Rivoli where I got some earrings and a pin, to a print shop, a café, to a shop to pick up a blouse and then to Brassiere Lipp for dinner. Deux Magots closed. September 3 - Paris - to Courcelles And what a day this has been! Luckily the weather has held bright and warm. Much much better than one could hope for. Took train at 8:25 from Gare de l’Fst for Reines. Same waiter in the Wagon Restaurant, so had breakfast and sat there the whole way. Almost nothing but third class coaches jammed with people. Went

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up to Cathedral where funeral services for a general were going on. A company of negro troops on guard outside, and a tank waiting for the casket. Red fezzes on troops made effective splash of color in the bright sun. Cathedral looked magnificent such a contrast to the cold, damp day when I saw it in the end of last October. Cafés and hotels much brightened up and altogether I wouldn’t have recognized Reines. Had to bolt a delicious lunch to catch the 12:83 bus. Jammed with people – all seats and all standing room and vast amount of stuff on the roof. Mme. Duvivier at the bus stop - has grown enormously fat. Her husband out in the fields so I did not see him. Went up to her “logement” of which she is very proud. Wallpaper covered with figures – artificial flowers made of feathers in clashing colors. Large vase of cockscomb on the table. Very bad pictures on the walls. Had some fruit to “refresh“ us. Walked all around village and into church – down little road leading to the Vesle where we stood on the bridge and look at the little stream. Sun Hot as hot could be. Everything looked just beautiful - cows in the fields and fields themselves. Quite a bit of bustle of rebuilding going on. The new red tiles of the roofs almost as lovely as the old. Inquired about the Bonjeaus – found they are only part owners of the Château – part of our “societe”. Work being done on the grounds and the garden. Wonderful meal prepared and served by mother of Mme Duvivier - soup, salad, omelette, potatoes, bread, cheese, a delectable custard – beer, wine, and champagne. Bus from Soissous 40 minutes late getting to Courcelles. Figured we’d miss the train to Paris – especially after seeing how the driver drove. Coasted where it was downhill until all momentum was lost, then crawled up the next hill. Slept on the train all the way to Paris. Was never more tired in my life. September 4 - Paris To the office with expectation of visiting a case but found it impossible because the child of the family had to go to her dancing class. Thankful, because I had slight cold. To the consulate to get passport validated for Austria, then to military permit office where discovery was made that Haus in Vienna has done nothing about making a request for me. To bed at 5:30 Had dinner brought up – cold chicken, plain salad of lettuce, and rouge - came to over 500 fres. Mme Jorquera, Adoracion. Husband in Spain worked in country - a peasant. When he came to France, put in internment camp – Argelesu,St. Cyporien, Vernet.

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Suffered much – poor health. After requestioned by Germans for labor, when freed joined his family - In Paris in a refuge. Montrouse - A Unitarian project. We knew of them there. He wanted to work, not stay at center. Found work and lodgings which were unfurnished. USC got the beds and furniture. Courageous work - seven children: daughter 20 years - works in dress making establishment, doesn’t earn much. Lola. Boy - 18 years – apprentice mechanic earns little at moment. Juan. Two boys - 17 years - Manola and Jose - 15 - apprentices as electricians. Francois - 6 years Gusanne - 4 years Maria - 4 months Father earns 24 fres an hour. Works at “usine d’alinentation” - he has family allotment 3600 fres a month. He pays 2600 fres a month for lodgings. Cannot get on in spite of all efforts because of size of family. He sacrifices in order that children may learn good trades instead of letting them go to work for wages. September 6 Visit to the Rounearian doctor - both legs amputated as result of jumping from the train while being deported to Germany. Details to follow, I hope. Mme Betterman and Elleanor Clark went with us. Mme B terribly inept in her questioning of the doctor – too pressing and blunt . Was cursing to myself The whole time – wish I was alone with him. Sure he would have talked to me. Studying English by himself and he’d have loved the chance to talk. Had lunch first at Eleanor Clark’s apartment. Had comic time trying to find her since the concierge claimed not to know her and so did all of the tenants. Went from top of building to the bottom – hers the only apartment we missed. Finally she came out as I was standing guard and Ruth trying to get the hotel on telephone in a café across the way. September 7 - Paris to London by air September 8-18 - London interlude.

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September 19 - London to Paris by air At Victoria air terminal this morning at 6:15. Seemed very foggy to me at the airport and there was a delay in starting but we flew extra fast and made up the time and arrived at Le Bourget on the dot. Bus very temperamental from the Arc de Triomphe on – a loud report from the engine, followed by series of convulsions. However, we limped into the Gare des Invalides, and then learned that one of the “Air France “buses blew up in the street yesterday. Dumped bags at hotel and proceeded to military permit office where I discovered that the silly fools have lost my application for a permit to Vienna. Hopeless now to try to go. Lunch after this at a restaurant near Trocadero station – two hard-boiled eggs, two pieces of bread, a glass of wine. The bill 118 Fres. To USC where I found that all were in Geneva. Many letters. To dead beat to inquire why the devil they didn’t forward. Bragg in Geneva until October 13. Simply starved by night. Had a lovely meal at restaurant Tremine – bill 425. September 20 - Saturday Some of the germs of ideas on a book of people – discussed with Ruth – are beginning to come to life and to kick. But as usual I feel I don’t know enough – that I take notes badly with a result, there are many important details missing. I wish, for example, that I had jotted down signs in Prague and Poland – things that would be useful as background. Had a vermouth this morning at the Deux Magots after writing letter number five to Bragg. Then walked up Boulevard. St. Germain to Saint Michel in search of cheaper restaurants. Discovered one on Boulevard St Mich After looking into almost all of the marvelous bookstores. Full of students – dirty, but it was cheap – 125 fres for hors d’oeuvres, veal and peas, petite Swiss carafe of wine and piece of bread. A pity this discovery has come so late. Reading “Some People“ by Harold Nicholson which is and is not in some ways what I’d like to do. Weather heavenly – cooler than yesterday – absolutely perfect. Made a tour of Blvd. St Michel and all the bookstores thereon and the cafés. Do not know how this territory has remained so long unexplored by me. The sun

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coming through the leaves of the trees, A great deal of red and yellow paint especially in the cafés, and the endless stream of people of all types – the women of about 60 in their suits, hats and gloves, with that expression of wary cynicism one sees so often here and so seldom elsewhere. Came out on the Quai Saint Michel where I dawdled by the bookstalls and then to Notre Dame. Past “la Rue du chaf qui Peche” and also the Rue de la Huchette - the scene of “The Last Time I Saw Paris” if I remember right. September 21 – Paris Morning at the Deux Magots jotting down notes on Latice, this with the idea of a book, or something. Lunch at Saint Peres which is far and away the best value for the money – at least so far as I have found. There are cheaper places, but they are so dirty. Good nap in the afternoon and then a stroll by the Seine and to Saint Chapelle where some of the windows have been replaced. Undoubtedly the glass is magnificent but there is so much of it it loses its beauty for me. What I love about glass is the colored reflection it casts on the grey stone. Everything is color, and it’s too much for me. Stopped at a café in Place St. Michel and then walked up to Boulevard Ste Germaine where I found a Salon de Thi and had some tea and a lovely chocolate soufflé sort of thing. To the Saint Peres for dinner and to the Deux Magots which was a babble of voices. The most obnoxious character, a tall - 6 feet three or four – youth in a pink shirt and lavender necktie and head of long wavy blonde hair who talked loudly of New York and his favorite A & P and laughed loudly with a noise that sounded as if he were about to be sick. Levine - The German – strong chin – direct brown eyes – tired and sharp. Two little children, one with infected ear which does not heal. How to fight that with a packet of food of the size he received. The child needs food and probably penicillin but first of all, food. Drugs are all right for what they are worth, but it’s food that has wanted. Oberlander - has a baby now – a month and a half. The mother hasn’t sufficient milk. We haven’t any milk in the Paris warehouse. “We regret“. Woman at the Royal Saint Germaine - soup and an omelette – no wine. Bread wrapped up in newspaper. Wrist watch on elaborate bracelet - an old watch which

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isn’t going. Threadbare checked tweed coat - Gray felt hat like a man’s. Chews with nervous, energetic motion of the jaws which stirs up whole face. Old-fashioned rings – paste, maybe? Louis Mackeice - “What is it we want really? For what in and help? If it is something feasible, obtainable, Let us dream it now, And pray for a possible land Not of sleepwalkers, not of angry puppets, But where both heart and brain can understand The movements of our fellows.” Daniel Cukier - age 25 - Polish - apprentice tailor War record: deportee – both parents killed in concentration camp. Daniel shows the effects of the war in more ways than his poor health. He is irresponsible and has not much strength of character nor very high ideals. He is a likable boy, but easily influenced for the bad. He has rich relatives in the dress making business but claiming they refused to help him. He seems to have a certain amount of pocket money. His stay here (Hendaye) did bring a lot of good, physically and mentally. Report on students, University of Nancy. 4500 students. War a hard blow to region - mainly industrial. Price of food and things necessary to daily life have risen enormously. Heat, light, etc. January 1946 - 481 fres August 1947 - 1089 fres Lodgings – 200 fres before the war – now 1200. Minimum required monthly including books, clothing, – 7 to 8000 fres. Students come from families of petite bourgeoisie – professors, officers - who cannot afford this sum. Consequently the students try to economize - invariably on food. Result – increase in TB. Problem of older student who was deported – in resistance, who is married.

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September 23 - Paris To the office in the morning where I went over some more cases. Persis Miller in – more harassed and distraught than ever and shabby beyond believe. She is in a way, like a schoolteacher who has gone too far. Don’t really know what keeps her going, anyway – nothing but skin and bones. Has a bad cough, but some “wonderful cough medicine” which she got in Switzerland. Got the train at station at 2:10 to go and see Dr. R. Herskovitzour again. He and his wife were on the porch – he standing with aid of two canes. Walked into the house and then got in wheelchair. Huge torso – powerful arms and hands, and big head. Has just had telephone installed at price of 10,000. Spoke of cost of living – the infinitesimal amount of coffee, bread, milk, allowed. His impression of America – all money and business – that aid to Europe would be a matter of business. Sounded out on communism and found him to be definitely anti. Would rather eat a potato and a crust of bread and be free to speak as he likes and read what he likes, then to eat beef steak and to be muzzled. Asked about communism - he demonized the danger in France because the Frenchman is too fond of his liberty, but he did not minimize the present misery and “tristesse“ in France, nor did he say what he thought would be the result. That is the question I should like answered. Wages have not gone up – prices have more than doubled, and something must break soon. The black market flourishes and who benefits from that? Dr. H very ambitious – the “eternal student“. Has spent two years studying English by himself with the “Assmill” books and records. Played one of the discs for me – the hearty rendering by a baritone of “God Save the King“. His quick ear had caught a peculiarity in the last line when the baritone says “God serve the king.“ Thought perhaps it was an old British customs to say sir instead of save in the last line. Assured him that I am conversant with all British customs, and that to serve the king is not one of them. Save maybe, at times but serve - never! He was reluctant to consider the possibility of error in his beloved discs, but was polite enough to give me a hearing. He has just had a telephone installed for the sum of Fr.10,000 – almost $100. Have offered to send some American chewing gum to Annmarie, and some magazines to him. He is an extraordinary man – tremendous drive which is intensified by his disabilities. A very complex character too - very emotional – at high pitch all the

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time – too high perhaps, but I’d be the last to estimate or make a guess at where the breaking point is. He was much intrigued when I told him that I spoke before men as well as women. He evidently pictured me talking before a vague thing called a “women’s league.“ Must have read of the activities of women’s clubs in America. At 4:45 I left. We didn’t have the game of chess for which he was longing. Just as well, in order to preserve his impression of the brilliance of American womanhood. A cold raw day, and already the pinch of winter can be seen on the peoples faces. Came back by bus in the underground to St. Germain des Pres. The Deux Magots closed. Went to the Royal Ste Germaine where lights went out in the midst of dinner. Went out everywhere and we sat in darkness until a bright Garcon lighted two flickering gas jets shed a ghostly light on at all – especially on the round, grieved face of a little man who had been absorbed in Le Monde. After half hour of this the electricity was resumed. Had some café, paid my bill and started for hotel when whole street plunged into darkness. Fortunately the headlights of cars provided some illumination – although fitful – and I kept bravely on expecting to have my throat cut any minute. Two candles were flickering in the lobby of the Cayre, and one in the bar. Didn’t dare try the ascent so came into bar and had some tea. The man tried to give me more light by holding a saucer behind the candle but then the candle went out. “Coise de la bougie,” said he philosophically. Letter from Oberlander. Has taken his wife to the country, but will see me in Paris around first of October. September 24 - Paris – Toulouse by night train. No more odious specimens of humanity than the diminutive ferret-like Frenchman who claws at one getting off a bus or metro train. Strike of all taxi drivers has been called for 4:15 this afternoon. Have thus got suitcase and typewriter “en consigne” at the Gar Austerlitz to which I can go quite easily on the metro. At the moment I am sitting in the Deux Magots and hope to accomplish a few odd notes and things. On the train – first class sitting up.

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Got letters off too Sue, Miss Cranston, Miss Egan, Oberlander and mother. Dinner at the restaurant Gare Austerlitz – a dour waitress, but one who responded to a smile and laugh. One look at the second class couchettes led me to make request for a first class sitting up. There are six of them to a compartment – canvas covered bunks three deep with no pillow nor blanket. Could not see how I should spend the night on one of them. Quite different from the second class on the Orient Express. That experience - coming back from Warsaw to Katowice had misled me, so to speak. And so I got hold of conductor, and by paying a supplement of 947 franc, I have the privilege of sitting up in the first class. At the moment I am alone in the compartment, but I do not know how long this happy state of affairs will last. Impossible that it will last to Toulouse. Anyhow, have myself established in the corner next to the corridor with an arm and head rest between me and whoever else may come. Do not know whether I am feel seeing things, but I feel a mountain air of crisis – ”headlines” - Certainly something will break here before the winter is over. “if there is another war I do not want to live” Toulouse September 25 Perhaps sometime – but I don’t know when or where, I spent a worse night than the one happily now past. By 1130 was literally congested. Took down suitcase and put a suit on over black wool dress. Was warmer for a bit but by contrast the temperature kept dropping and mine with it. Mercifully I slept although conscious of the cold. Feet were utterly unconscious. Daylight gave me fresh courage but no more warmth, and the confounded train crawled and then made protracted stops. Nothing to eat either. Arrived Toulouse 10:30 after 14 hours of agony. Asked Porter for a taxi. He seemed to think I wanted to go to a place called Untaxi, dashed off and came back to say 12:10. “Un taxi pour aller a l’hotel,” said I in utter exasperation. “Ahhh!” said he, “Compris.” We stood on the curb but only sign of conveyance was an old man sitting atop his drashly. Not until he gave signs of leaving early did I take him. At least he could give me a lap robe. We clopped along he encouraging the horse with a constant “Ai-eee, Ai-eee,” which must have meant something to it. A bell on the horses harness jingle. And so I drew up to the Grand Hotel – still frozen stiff and found that my anticipation of a hot bath were

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but idle fantasies without form or substance. The electricity is turned off all day every Thursday – even Wednesday too, for that matter, but thank God Wednesday is past – and there was no hot water. Wash my Face and hands in a tepid picture for brought by the chamber made. Futile quest to find the Mairie to get temporary unreal tickets changed into real ones. Then lunch. Began to thaw out. Afternoon – to Varsovie Hospital. Great change has been wrought – laboratory in running order – also operating room and two women’s wards. Has been painted throughout. The TB cases have been cleared out so now it is a real hospital where cases can be treated and discharged. The same faces I saw last year, but different people. Talk a bit to Dr. Parra and his son who maintain their courage in spite of everything. “Little by little we move forward. Always Look forward never back.” If they can look forward, I guess I can. Of the Spaniards in general, Dr. Parra said, “ They work six months and fall sick – ills of the stomach etc.” Two medical and two surgical wards for men. To the office where I talked to Dolores Bellido. that window who has aged terribly. Looks thin and undernourished. Toulouse has had no food for distribution since January. Don’t know why I haven’t taken in the importance of food until this year. Expect it’s because the quantity in each parcel seems infinitesimal, but now I see what a difference that makes. Am not sure but what the Quaker chap in Cambridge last spring had something when he asked what good were Medical Teaching Missions if people didn’t have enough to eat. Certainly that is the first step is the flight against tuberculosis. Observations on café life in Toulouse groups of weird and evil (although perhaps as gentle as doves when you get to know them) looking men playing poker (?) and talking loudly and hoarsely. “Cave du Rene Leon” is closed for repairs. Many more bookstores open - buying French translation of “The Fountain“ by Charles Morgan. I bought “La Vie de Jesus” by Renan, and at the time of writing have half the pages cut. Shops in general have many luxuries or non-essentials in the window at astronomical prices. Forgot to say that I visit the dispensary this afternoon also. The waiting room packed with people. Saw the dental chair and equipment – also the x-ray, ultra

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violet and diathermy outfits. In general should think most of these people could be cured with enough to eat. Meal tonight – and very inferior – 318 franc. More expensive than Paris. The wine, a thin strawberry color. A piping hot bath - all washing done, and to bed. September 26 – Toulouse - cold, driving rain. Cases for care packages. Alvarez – Francisco and Maria Luisa. Maria Luisa born at Madrid during the attack. Was two months old when her mother had to take refuge at Barcelona. The trip under evening fire – toward the coast at first and after by boat along the coast. Arrived in France in 39. Mother and Maria Louisa interned - the father also. Got out of camp and “installe“ at Barcares - got his family together. Francisca born at this time in 1941. 1943, the father taken for “forced labor“ disappeared into the Marquee in 1944. After demobilization came to Lou’s. Live in old factory without furnishings in open country. Gomez - Burgos, Paquita Family originally from Toledo, “replies“ to Valencia and later to Barcelona where the eldest daughter was born. To France in February 39. Mother and daughter interned at Creuse - a year and a half. Father left Angels in the company of workers and found work in the region of Claremont Fernand and was able to get his family together. They were hardly settled when with the armistice the life of Spanish refugees became much more difficult than before. Without work, hunted by the “Travail Obligataire” in Germany, he was often obliged to flee or too hide, leaving his wife and child. Paquita born in this period. Having worked for the resistance since it’s organization, the father left in June 1945 to join the Spanish Maquis and has never been heard from since. Mother operated on in the summer of 1946 at the Varsovie Hospital and is still under treatment at the dispensary. Children are well, but a heavy charge for this woman – always suffering and depressed because of lack of news of husband. Probably the husband is dead.

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Solar, Lisa, Jose, Francisca Family arrived France 1939. One child and the mother pregnant. Father inturned in several camps - released at beginning of war to work on Maginat Line. Fled at time of German invasion - came to Cabannes to join family. Escaped requisition by Germans – often had to spend a month at a time hiding in woods. Wife meantime did washing. Had to walk 4 km with the washing to the river and in winter was often obliged to break the ice with a stone before being able to watch. Third child born in 1941. Mother‘s health delicate. After the liberation she was able to rent a while but in six months became seriously ill. Brought to Varsovie Hospital because the doctor in the village Head not the means to make a complete examination. Found to be lesion, heart ailment, and general deficiencies. Needs rest. The three children at St. Goin. Rios, Libertad Parents engaged at time of Civil War. Father able to get to Zaragoza in the government zone. Mother stayed in Aragon. Taken by gala gists and condemned to death. Family and friends were able to get her pardoned and later to escape. Married at Barcelona during the war. Interned on arrival in France - February 1939. Wife put in company of workers building houses until armistice when she was able to escape and join her husband. During occupation in hiding because hunted on account of political activities. Husband caught – escaped from train taking him to Germany. Wounded later in a battle at Arieges, taken to hospital. Later tortured and killed by the no the nuliciens in front of his wife. Liberation Cologne prevented wife from being deported. Receives a small widows pension from French government and does dressmaking. All the family in Spain has suffered greatly. One brother shot, three others in prison. Libertad a nervous child - Delicate health. Never has known a happy and normal life. Often she was weeks without knowing where her parents. Mediavilla, Manuel - Toulouse Family from Madrid, refugee at Bangoles where the father worked in aviation factory. Mother and two children came to France – interned at camp in Brittany – suffered much from cold and dampness. Pedro commenced the bronchitis which

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later developed into TB. Father left Angeles to work at Toulouse - reclaimed his family. Mother anemic, very depressed. Boy 13 has tuberculosis. The two younger our well but in danger because of their broker. Gomez, Pieto, Paulita Parents married in France. Husband injured by a truck – head. Remains irritable - suffers “douleuos“ and dizzy spell’s which prevent him from working. Mother should have operation - uterus. Family (mothers) is in Toulouse but cannot help her. Grandfather - Both hands on, and the grandmother aged. Paulita a lovely child in good health. Gomez, Losada, Jose Marie - Barcelona Family of three children. The father a doctor arrested by the militia in 43. After some months in the prison St Michael at Toulouse deported to Buchenwald. Returned in poor health. Jose tuberculosis has spent several months in sauna. A gentle boy, loves to read, knows French and Spanish equally well. Goicoechea, Elisa Family arrived in France February, 1939. Mother interned in Brittany - the father at Angels. Got out to work in 1940 - got his family established at Pau. Father interned even after the armistice, but escaped. Fell ill – hospitalized. Accused of political activity in hospital. Only the liberation prevented his being deported. From 1940 to 44, the father was either in hiding, in the hospital, or in prison. Mother worked as domestic, having left the child with friends. After liberation the family reunited but the father tuberculosis – not able to work, and a danger to the child. Mother works as domestic – comes home at night. Elisa in good health but has need of a long rest in country. Galindo, Helios Child has been very ill - “tumenas froides” of the knee. Completely cured but small and a bit backwards for her age. Mother too young and inexperienced – does her best, but child is not cared for as he should be. Lives among poor agricultural workers.

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Cueto, Marina Mother a teacher. Divorced from father of two children – remarried. The second husband “licensie en sciences” – very good to the children. All the family is ill. Very active part in the resistance. Cipres, Liberto and Narcisco Arrived in 1939. Mother and children several months at Angeles. In 1940 the father found work in a farmhouse in department of Ariege and was able to bring his family to live with him. Older child married and she and husband helped in the work. In 1943 we’re denounced to the Germans because they gave food to the Maquis. The house and crops were burned and the son-in-law was deported. After that they lived in Toulouse where the father worked in a factory. The family large (6 children) and very needy. Canedo, Maria Teresa Father interned at Vernet - four years. Because of mental and physical sufferings he has nervous ailment. Has crisis and terrible depression. Abscess of brain – operation at Varsovie. Mother anemic – obliged to work. Does housework, but in rural community it is rare and badly paid. Maria Teresa gained enormously at St. Goin. At first hardly dared to speak, having been brought up between a difficult father and a timid, fearful mother. Was ill after St. Goin. Operation needed. All family being treated at Dispensary. Callejo, Francina - Toulouse Father tuberculosis following hard work as the builder. Can still work and except in winter is well enough although the disease progresses. One child died of meningitis in 1944 second child also. Only Francina remains. A vigorous child - large for her age, and up to now free of infection but the danger is great in spite of all precautions, because the father is always in the house. Antia, Jose Father came to France in 1939 with wound in the lungs. Because tuberculosis - died in 1940, some weeks after birth of Jose. Mother has been very courageous. Worked during husband‘s illness as a dishwasher in a restaurant. Remarried, a second child born. While Mme Soto was pregnant (third time) her husband was

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taken by the Germans to Bordeaux. Killed by a German car as he left hospital after visiting his wife. Jose in good health - also his half brother Francisco, but the youngest has always been delicate. Had infantile paralysis last winter. Platree for seven months. Mother who had born all these adversities With courage suddenly became ill. Should stop working. Woman of great marriage, has struggled and worked hard for her children, and in moments of relative well-being has helped others. Jose is serious – reflective. Large and “asset bien” in spite of all the privations endured. Andres, Miguel and Magin - Toulouse Parents married during the war in Spain at Tarrega where they were refugees. France, February 1939, mother pregnant eight months, father wounded in leg. Father hospitalized at Perpignan. Mother and all her family – five brothers and one sister - interned at Vernoux near Paris. Magin born a few days after arrival. At time of the German invasion all of the family managed to escape – came on foot to Toulouse where the father was in the camp at Recebedu. Second child, Miguel, born in 1941. In 1943 the father was taken by the Germans to work on the submarine base at Bordeaux. He managed to escape and joined the Marquis at Dordogne. After liberation he was among the first to return to Spain (underground) and has never been heard from since. According to non-confirmed rumor he was taken prisoner in Aragon. Mother and children are with grandmother. Magin delicate and nervous. Miguel in better health. Both children well brought up. Garcia, Maria Antonia Parents came to France in 1939. Married at Condone where wife was living with parents. Father joined Maquis de Castelnau sur Avignon - wounded in lung - 21 June 1944 just before of the liberation. In spite of poor health the father works - mother cannot because of the age of the youngest child. Difficult to find work other than agriculture in farming region like le Gers. Maria Antonia goes to school. Learns quickly. Mediocre health - lack of appetite - needs more food and special care. Little sister is stronger. Both have gentle and amiable characters. Cases recommended to US by other organizations. We are unable to do anything further.

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Camerasa Sumer, Jose Recommended by the Quakers. “Was born in Barcelona in 1916, entered France with the Republican army. Three sisters live with him. Wounded in the flight for the liberation of Toulouse and was captain in the FF I. His health is not very good, was wounded in the lung, that is why we gave him an extensive feeding but had to suppress it later for we could not give it to everyone in need.” Gonzalez Ormazabel, Enriqueta “Since 1941 when her husband went to Casablanca, Morocco, she has lived in France with her two sons who are six and eight. The girl, Maria Elena is lymphatic; the boy, Mauricio, is weak, as the doctor ordered intensive feedings for them both. The case of this family is one of the most interesting to be helped with intensive feeding.” Zaragoza Ramon Recommended by Solidaridad Democratica Family of seven persons; the youngest child born last February. Zarragoza was interred in Vernet from February to September 1939. With the advice of our dispensary we sent to Mrs. Zaragoza a diet of intensive feeding, but our stock being finished we had to suppress it. Before we ceased sending them food Mr. Zaragoza sent us the following letter: “Dear Madam, I take the Liberty of writing to you to ask you about the intensive feeding you were so kind to send it to my wife Pedrocinio Sanchez. Today is the day we usually receive the parcel, but we do not have it yet. Maybe it got lost or sent to a wrong address. I want also to ask you what I have to do to send you a new medical certificate in order to obtain again intensive feeding. With many thanks, I am yours respectfully, Ramon Zaragoza” As we said before, if Mr. Zarragoza did not receive the parcel it was because our stocks were finished, that’s depriving sick and convalescent personals. Soberaso, Juan He lives with his wife, their daughter, her husband and four children. In November 1946 he sent us the following letter:

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“Being now in hospital La Grave in Toulouse, atorhinolaryngology service, bed 13, room St Jose, and being on the point I love undergoing an operation in the head because of the ones I got in Spain. I also took an active part in the flight for the liberation of France, I need intensive feeding but have no money to buy song so I wish you could send me a parcel of food.“ We sent them the parcel, but since our stock was finished we could not go on helping him which is a pity considering the delicate operation he underwent in the long period of convalescence ahead. September 27 Toulouse - bright day, cool Tea and a Gateau at the “Bar American“ for breakfast. Paid Fr.95 yesterday morning at the hotel for some undrinkable coffee, two pieces of stale bread and some of that sickening comfiture which was so ubiquitous in Toulouse last year. After that, had to come here for some tea anyway. The old man has just got off the tram with difficulty bringing three trays of patisserie from the bakery. Finished “Most Secret” by Nevil Shute last night in bed. I think it’s his best, but I’ve never seen it in the USA. Note that it says on the Zephyr books “not to be introduced into the British Empire or USA” Shall have to smuggle all my collection which is very good. Do not want to part with it Tea yesterday afternoon with Dolores Bellido and her sister and baby, very dry cold toast and a piece of two very heavy cakes. Visit this morning to Marina, terribly disappointed to find out she wasn’t at home. In the country until Tuesday with some Spanish family which took her when her mother was sick. Had a lovely visit with mother who is thin as a shadow but very beautiful. Rooms were spotlessly clean. Pressed me to stay for lunch but made an excuse not to eat food which she needs. Insisted on making a cup of coffee. Said that Marina has often referred to “la grande Americana” who played with her at St Goin. Told her mother of her remarks about l’eglis. She was as amused as I. Second visit to Mrs. Soto and third to the Colligo. Must have walked 6 miles at least in the course of the day. Dolores Bellido to the hotel at 9:30. We have coffee in the lobby and talked until 1130. An unusual person with a great gift for people, I should say. Also has an extraordinary gift for doing more then “making the best of things.“ Admits that the last year‘s have not been entirely agreeable but neither have they been entirely

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disagreeable. Spoke of the necessity of not abandoning the Spaniards. The help that you USC gives is not entirely material. Even if we have nothing in the way of food, clothing, or services to give, we should keep the office open. A moral support. Spoke also of the good which is accomplished by St.Goin, that the children who spend the summer their “support” the winter much better. September 28 - St Goin Dr. Antoine Pinar now in charge. Spanish doctor who has made the study of the “maladjusted child“ his life hobby. Has had much experience with children. Had a long talk with him about St Goin. He agrees with me that this set up now existing is not sound. But to take children for three months during which they have a glimpse of happiness and security only to put them back again in measurable surroundings. He agrees that we should take a group permanently, says there are plenty of orphans or children whose parents would let them stay. Think our point of disagreement would be on the kind of child to take. He would be in favor of home for the maladjusted, the potential criminals whileI would be in favor of taking the potential leaders. He agrees that the normal, well endowed child will find its own way. He has a point if one is talking about normal circumstances but the Spanish children are not in normal circumstances, and it seems to me that the gifted child – since we can’t help all – is the one to receive first consideration. Staying at the little Inn at Zeus in the same room as last year, and what is going on downstairs, goodness knows. Some kind of a fete and the commotion is formidable. Loud discussion, banging on table and deafening singing. A good many pecherus - one very young one is lodged in the adjoining room to mine. Every sound can be heard through cardboard wall. Should like to join the celebration downstairs, but do not dare - there being no women present. Wish I could do a proper description of this little Inn – painted a nice pink on the outside - flower boxes in the windows. Built in this shape and in the courtyard one can see teams of oxen waiting while the driver has a drink or something. On either side of the door is a rather darkish room - one the kitchen and general living room, and the other a dining room for clients. The village of Zeus is just a cluster of houses around a little place more compact than St. Goin which has no center - houses on each side of the road which passes through.

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September 29 – Meillon Met at Pau by Dr Rovira and brought to Meillon. The Chateau the same and the Spaniards might be those of last year, so alike are they. The same types of women - some the heavy but worn-out peasant – older – and some of the younger, more spirited in spite of ill health and general fatigue. One in particular - black eyes, black hair, much personality – sang at the fete this evening – the peculiar harsh voice which seems characteristic of the Spaniards when they sing. Certainly there is no sweetness of tone either in men or women. There is nostalgia but it’s hard, not dreamy. With them then there are the same differences in types – the older men who look tired and as if they had stomach trouble, the young semi-intellectuals who continue to struggle against Franco (mentally) and dream of a Spanish republic, and the young peasant type which is the barn fighters with a gun. Alvarez at St Goin, Drs. Bosch and Rovina have read “For Whom the Bell Tolls.“ Were generous enough to say that doubtless Hemingway wanted to help them, but the book is very exaggerated. Had a long talk with one of the young intellectuals who said that he was not a professional intellectual, but he is now a “journalist“ in Paris. Wrote articles for papers - Mexico. Has promised to write an article for me. A fete this evening in my honor. Went over to château after dinner with Dr. Ravena, his wife, and Dr. Bosch. The same improvised orchestra, skits, comic turns, and finally Spanish songs by the whole group, ending up with the Song of the Republic. All sung with terrific gusto and noise. September 30 – Meillon I walk with a touch of “le colic”, but pressed on nevertheless. Found that Dr. Rovina had it too, so severely he had to be excused to take to his bed. Had lunch in his place and although didn’t eat anything but soup, managed to carry on a gay, if somewhat unintelligible conversation with those at the table. A siesta after lunch and then back to the Château. A walk to the river with Álvarez – he who is to do the article. Wallace “pleases“ him much, also Elliot Roosevelt. Talked at length about Britains exploration of the colonies, also about the machinations of the trusts. The regular communist line which has, no doubt, certain grains of truth in it. Ate a bit for supper, then a very gay time with a small group. We laughed a lot, but what at would be hard to say now. Maria Gomez – young, and with immense personality of the group. All her family is in Spain, she is “toute reule” in France -

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has not seen them for nine years. Lives with two other girls in Toulouse – all they earn goes into a common purse. She is 28 years old. Hopes fearlessly – is tres tenace. Spoke of the harshness of the Spaniards – like their landscape - in contrast to the softness of the French. The same hardness that I had remarked in their singing. She said I must come to Spain when they have returned – the Spaniards – although savage - have long memories - they forget neither a good nor a bad turn. Left for Pau at nine, armed with a gouter for the train. Had aperitif with the chauffeur and two Spaniards who brought me. September 1 - Paris An uncomfortable night on train but not as bad as the one when I went to Toulouse. To the office to discuss Vienna trip with Jaeger since I have communication to the effect that Permit has been granted – blast it. Trip would mean delaying sailing for home – Bragg incommunicado in Germany. I am dying to go but it would cost money – also problem of winter coat which I haven’t got. On the whole, probably better to save money for next year to England. Shall not take any more trips for the USC. New York Herald Tribune today Report from America – M. Are. Werner Paris report if read carefully shows that Europe has already done a great deal toward its own recovery - is capable of doing enough to save itself if it gets the lift that is high enough from a fulcrum big enough. Confusion and worry about Marshall plan. That it may be the answer to American as well as world prosperity and stability has not penetrated American consciousness. Hooverism – Hoover never changes, no matter how much the world does. In recent speech said that Americans and their animals should eat less in order that Europeans and Asiatics may eat at all. Says nothing about growing more animals and crops. Doesn’t like controls. Everything must be done by voluntary contribution or restraint. Quote from end of his speech “ The key to our hearts can always be turned by little children, by mothers, by the aged and destitute. We are, thank God, sentimentalists.“ Capped these words with a stern warning against taxing ourselves to help others, suggest that we set aside a “night for charity.“

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A “night“ won’t be enough. Nothing on a scale commensurate with the need can be accomplished without taxes and rationing instead of charity and voluntary food conservation. Many are not so moved by the little children at a distance as they are by big dividends in the morning mail. Letter from Ray Bragg saying that we are to get $850,000 from this American overseas aid drive. Don’t know what that will mean as far as Boston personnel goes - probably that Ed Cahill will remain, and then where will I be? Mme. Augusti Planel, Pablo Grandfather, born in 1882 – professor on faculty of Medicine Barcelona – lung specialist who left Spain after the war. Came to France and was unable to leave for Brazil as he wished because of arrival of the Germans. The daughter, after disappearance of her husband and the death of older child suffered mental collapse. Is not able to work. Grandmother is French by birth. People of moral and intellectual qualities which made their present situation especially dramatic. Have tried to find work for grandfather more in keeping with his profession – in a laboratory or assistant to a doctor. October 3 Eggs - 16 Franc in country – city 25 franc Milk - was 11 in country, now 15 Bread - 200 grams per person per day Leeks – 26 franc a kilo - last year 14 Franc, in 44 and 45 - 8 franc Potatoes - 7 Franc a kilo two years ago - 9 last winter - 13.50 in the country now at the beginning of winter, in Paris - 20 4 franc a kilo - official price - black market 8 to 10,000 Franc Ask in Boston for statement of Les Andelys account to be sent to Mme Champsant every three or four months. Things wanted – salted nuts, chocolate, white flour, white sugar (not damp), white muffin mix, crust mix For Christmas send at once – 300 chocolate bars, 100 presents age 10 to 15

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Had difficulty getting to Les Andelys because I had forgotten that the station was Gaillon to which the little train runs. Took ratchety old bus to Grand Andelys and then a kind youth led me on foot back to Petit which is where Gwen lives. She couldn’t imagine what had become of me. Other tenants have finally been got rid of, and Gwen has the house to herself. Has just spent the equivalent of $1000 making a few repairs and renovations. So she is all set now “until the Russians come.“ We sat in the garden and watched the barges going up and down the Seine, and by a glance over the shoulder could see the Chateau Gaillard, built by Richard Coeur-de-Leon when he came back from the Crusades. She told me of statements in the local paper prophesying the next war between the USA and Russia – that France will have no part of it etc. etc. References to America as being an aggressor nation. Gwen herself seems to think a preventative war on the part of the USA is the only hope. She has read, “I Choose Freedom” and regards it as the last word. After lunch we walked up to the castle. Glorious view of what must be a sizable portion of Normandy. Lovely soft landscape with the Seine glistening between green banks. Brilliant sunshine but a sharpness in the north wind. Not a very profitable day. Gwen has talk to the mayor and other officials about termination of the project before too long. They protest that it is very necessary but she says they have never gone out of their way to be helpful. I myself, cannot see much justification for it. October 4 – Paris Got a ticket to Folkestone straightened out. Took two heavy suitcases to Gare du Nord because no taxi available in the morning at the hour I need to start. Must be at the station at least by seven. Shall cope with the typewriter and brown satchel on the metro by myself. Have spent the afternoon just wandering about in the Boulevard Saint Michel, looking in shop windows and at the crowd of people which surge around there on a Saturday afternoon. Think I should have written down more, the shops, the Librairie and Papeterie - the big signs on the boards - the words of General DeGaulle to all Frenchman - the signs of the Communist Party against war - all the myriad signs that give Paris it’s character. The statue of Danton by the Odeon Metro station. Should like to have a mind that retains things better. Should like to get impressions down in such a way

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that they have meaning later. The library is along the Boulevard Saint Michel with queues of school children waiting to get in to buy their books. Notebooks etc. on tables on the sidewalk – pinched looking children buying them. Also walked along by the Seine looking at the bookstalls. Didn’t buy anything there, but got “La Chute de Paris” at my favorite book shop on the Rue Cujas right by the Sorbonne. Deux Magots for deux vermouth before dinner then across to the “Royal St. Germain,“ to which I have become quite attached, for dinner. Couple in corner of the banquette making very excited love. The girl rather younger than the man - on the stupid (to look at) side. Remember the couples in the Metro at noon – prolonged kissing with the surging past them of the hurrying throng. St. Germain des Pres looks lovely in the twilight – luminous sky – the curve of Rue Goglin – the people passing in all sorts of costumes - hard faced countryman in berets - old men with beards and canes or umbrellas – old ladies in extraordinary hats with a faded, Edwardian air of elegance – other older women shabby. October 5 - Folkestone By Calais-Folkestone Crossing. Heavenly day – like summer. Found Cally’s back door key under birdbath in rock garden as per the telegram and let myself in. Made tea, buttered bread and sat down in the living room to have it. Queerest feeling that I wasn’t. Wondered how I would feel if it were my house. Kelly came at five. HIgh tea of soup, scrambled eggs, stewed tomatoes. Henry much better. Had had his clothes on - been out to the “George” for lunch. October 6 - Folkestone Morning spent in agitation over whereabouts of key to garage – finally located as being in Mrs. Temples house, but Mrs. T away. Heaved Mrs Rickaby through the lavatory window and she found it. Afternoon to Ashford to estate agent to see about renting the house for one month. Then to Canterbury where we had quick walk around the inside of Cathedral. To the Molesworth,s for a drink. Carol, his wife, must be slightly cracked. At least that is the kindest thing to think about her. Completely selfish, bad tempered, utterly obnoxious. The type of British that is thought of as “typical“ right around the world, and has made the British detested over at least half of it.

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The weather unbelievable – warm as summer – a lovely golden haze over everything. October 7 - Folkestone Up to London “for the day” with Kelly – she to go see Henry. To Cunard to get seat reservation and to American Express to find out where I will spend the night tomorrow night. Another glorious day – too warm with the topcoat. Lunch at the Duncannon – downstairs. Now at the “Griffin“ near Charing Cross station. Big copper pots on the bar with palm plants in them. Merrias - glass cases with shelves on which rest a few tomatoes. Plates piled with tomato sandwiches. Big black handles by which they draw the beer. Three big barrels up behind the bar. “Watney’s Pale ale” - “Reeds Special Stout.” Clusters of men at the bar - no hats or black cats – Macintoshes - one woman with whom I sat down at a little table, having a sandwich and a glass of brown ale. Walls the color of molasses taffy – the ceiling yellowish with a pattern in it. “Finest quality – Ports and Sherries.” Charring Road comes into the hurly-burly of Tottenham Court, Road. New Oxford Street becomes Oxford Street. Snack bar with yellow top tables in the walls are yellow mustard with green trimmings an entirely green in the upper half. Sandwiches, scones, tea. Ladies conveniences under the streets highly recommended. Tiled palaces, really. With attendants who call you “dear.“ One behind National Gallery in Charing Cross Road which has two signs. “Ladies Lavoatory” and “Women’s lavatory.” Really takes care of everyone. Also a sign – “this convenience is open all night.” Handy no end. October 8 – London - Leinster Court Going up the scale of respectability. Very grim lounge filled with formidable old ladies for tea – which consists of one cup and three biscuits. A silence as I came in. A little later a woman with very short gray hair found voice and wondered where the American girl was. The one sailing on the Q.E. on Saturday. She had introduced her to an English woman – also sailing – not that she needed a protector – “far from it“ - she can take care of herself. All Americans can. And after dinner

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the same women were there for coffee – now dressed in the long dresses – one in a kind of hostess gown of corduroy. The one garbed in this extraordinary garment has hair like Aunt Lillie’s – dark, course and oily in a flat bun on the top of her head. She is bent and rheumatic. A fire burns in the grate – the first I have seen this season and really there is no need because it’s quite warm. For the benefit, no doubt, of all the aching joints and bones. A couple sets whispering on the other side of the fire. Two women beside me discussing old acquaintances - all of whom frequented Bournmouth or other watering places of the same ilk. When the wireless came on at ten to nine with a fearful blare, all with one accord rose and walked out with silent, offended dignity – all but the absorbed whispering couple and one old lady. The voice of the announcer said the racket was a studio performance of the “Flying Dutchman.” Old lady in ringing tones to the couple, “I don’t care much for the Flying Dutchman.” The couple, unaware she was addressing them went on whispering. Old lady, louder, “I don’t care much for the Flying Dutchman.“ The couple, “no?“ “As a matter of fact I have never cared for the Flying Dutchman“ - it has always seemed rather heavy.” Announcer - “Now a hill tune by boys“. Old lady – “That’s better.“ Man – “I think the wireless is out of tune.“ Old lady – “all songs nowadays are out of tune.“ Man – “I mean – it’s the wireless that’s out of tune.“ Exit on my part. October 9 – London – Russell hotel In the “Griffin” two women from Barking – one to the other, “I’m not used to these mansions of pubs.” To Bethel Green on a #60 bus from the Strand via the Bank, Bishopsgate, Bethel Green Road, and Roman Road. Description of their outing last summer. Coach late in arriving - difficulty in getting it started - driver cranky. Stuck in Limehouse holding up vast stream of traffic. “The women were willing to sit there all day they were so amused.“ “It wants greasing – has anyone got the fat ration?“ Mrs. Ellis. Wonderful ageless quality of these women. They look the same today as they did nine years ago. Read Dorothy Paton’s last letter to them in which she exhorts them to work hard to build up the conservative party so this impossible government which puts nationalization ahead of the practical things of life, can be thrown out as soon as

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possible. On the whole the women looked better dressed and fed than I had ever seen them, so perhaps nationalization is not a major tragedy in their lives. Took the bus back (#8) getting off at Halbarton Kingsway. Called Cookie from the hotel. Vi “not too good“ - a bad cold and a pain in her back. I think it’s gastric flu, my dear.“ To the flat where I found “Chig“ just home from work two weeks before he was expected. His “bad temper“ as described by Cookie was not in evidence - good looking and cocky. Told with delight of Cookie’s welcome when she opened the door – “Well don’t stand there – come in if you must.” The Apollo was closed, so we four went on a crawl – the Lincoln, Wallace Hardy, Queens Head, Manchester Games and Blackhorse. “The Lincoln“ is the one all fixed up with the Scottish tartans set in the wall. All of these pubs with the exception of the “Black Horse“ which has a ladies bar, are bright and modernized compared with those in the west end and city. October 10 – London - to Q.E. in afternoon Down to Guys to see Henry. Clothes hang on him, and right shoulder very drooped but he’s quite like himself again. Very pleased that he had fixed up with the sister for me to have lunch with him – cold cooked pheasant from Scotland, baked potato and salad. To the “George“ first for a pint of beer. Sat down at table in the middle where youth was reading a Penguin mystery. After a bit he put his book down and said, “Do you mind if I ask you rather a queer question - when did Shakespeare die?” Henry rather distinguished himself by somehow bringing Cervantes into the picture, and while that didn’t establish the year of Shakespeare’s death, it gave a learned tone to conversation. Youth evidently yearned to talk, so Henry and I had to ignore him rather pointedly or we’d not have had a word to ourselves. Lovely snacks at the “George” - had a roll with crab and cress filling. Use remarked that the “George” is mentioned in “Pickwick Papers.” Had a last bitter in the buffet at Waterloo station. Jammed with people having cups of tea or beers. Gazed around at the whole scene, numb with misery. Tried to impress all details on my mind - the signs, the book shop, the newstand, the porters trundling the luggage, masses of soldiers sitting waiting on the benches. Queen Elizabeth – queues for the table sittings. Every deck occupied by people writing last letters – others just wondering around.

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Cabin mate - Mrs. Paula Zinzer - Belgian - who has lumbago and a bad cold. I am hoping that germs are less likely to move upwards then the other way around. Cabin very stuffy. Mate says she is not going to change any clothes during the voyage - not even the linge, because to bend down and unpack bags will make the lumbago worse. However, even though “seeks” she will probably get up for lunch. In that case I shall try to open the door and air out the cabin. Met up with diminutive French woman in beret and much decoree who is coming to America to lecture – Boston and Chicago. Tells me that in three years France will be on her feet. Must question further to find out what she bases this optimistic assumption. She believes there will be a war between the US and Russia, and does not view it with too much alarm. Was imprisoned by Germans during the war. October 11 - Queen Elizabeth Letter from Ruth in which she says the pictures are marvelous, that people are asking her all sorts of questions and the more they ask for more ideas she has for the book. Must say that I have none, the mind is a complete blank. Cabin mate lies in bed, stuffed with duckling and things like that. Protesting all the time that she is not happy, that she is not well. French woman - Mele Suzanne Bertillon, niece of the inventor of fingerprint system. Newspaper woman who made a trip into Spain and has “proof“ that the Republicans were the puppets of Moscow. Is pro Franco because he saved Spain from communism and war! Thinks present policy of France in not trading with Spain is very stupid. Spain would be such a good market for perfumes and dresses. What a fine idea. She also approves of Peron. Thinks war between Russia and USA is inevitable, that time is on Russia's side, will be unbeatable after five years, therefore USA should jump at once. She was also in Germany at one time before the war on mission to get proof of German secret rearmament, and succeeded where two men before her had failed. Has marvelous record in the resistance, Resistance Medal First Class, Croix de Guerrero with Palm, Legion of Honor, and Military Medal from USA for services rendered to US Army, a Major in the FFC, 80 men and 20 women under her. One of the men was the present French consul in Boston. She is bringing decoration for him and for some Americans who worked with her. Has a novel in her bag written during underground days when it was a kind of cover for those activities. She’s going to try to sell it in USA. 600 pages long, title

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“Scarlet Ashes” and do I think that it is a good title? Certainly it’s an arresting title and might fit almost anything. The theme is predestination - is one man fated for a certain woman, or vice versa, or what have you, and I should think it might take 600 pages to work that out to any conclusion. Cannot get it published in France because of shortage of paper. Will be very much surprised if there aren’t difficulties in America, shortage of paper or otherwise. Woman from Nassau has taken fancy to me and has become shadow like Berbillon. Very awkward because the two don’t mix.

October 12 Queen Elizabeth One day much like another and the voyage seems endless. Don’t sleep well, and wake early in the morning, long for the days of the cabin to myself, never mind how small.

Recollections of the Apollo Cookies conversational milestones - “Helen always says “I’ll be back!” The ORGAN story, the “Captain,” the time she and Vi we’re sitting at the bar and feeling very low, when each felt an arm around her. “He’s a proper tonic,” “He was very bored with his leave” He said “What a pity Helen’s not here to see the flowers at Kew.” “Helen will be coming home next month.”

Cookie and Pat dancing the last night and Ruth and I were there. Old man outside playing the violin. Cookie and Pat trying to sing “Bless you for Being an Angel“ and Cookie alone on her favorites “A Troopship just Leaving Bombay“ “Let’s have Another One“ “White Cliffs of Dover“ “When They Sound the Last All Clear“ Pat teasing Cookie because of her mauve handkerchief. Cookie, “Better to be a has-been then a never-was-one” Vi: “we all have our head moments.”

Vi at the movies with her colleague when a scene of delousing of Japanese prisoners were shown right after a serious picture. “It came so quick like. My colleague and I wanted to laugh but we didn’t dare. Afraid people would think us very common.” It just struck me so funny. All this with her characteristic wrinkling of the nose.

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Nelly in Frank’s black hat doing an imitation of Ablee at the Guildhall. Glasses well down on her nose. Alice’s tales of trip to Belgium. Bought real silk, made underwear and then gained so much weight she couldn’t wear it. Smuggled clock inside girdle, but customs men heard it ticking. Alice telling one story after another. Each more hair-raising than the last. Ivy, the dumplings. Try to get her to talk “normal“ but she always thinks it’s the stories that are wanted. Queenie, the salvation army lass, Cookie “Don’t keep going like that” i.e. standing on first one foot and then the other. Cookie, “Frank I’ve got water on the knee” “Do you want to call Devonshire 1212?” October 13, Queen Elisabeth Recollections of London Interlude “I’ve just come off the Devonian Belle” i.e. the Devon Belle of which there is a poster in every railroad station and the underground. Laughed very much at this. “But these people were very good to me and they are going back to Australia. 15,000 ruddy miles away.” Dash for the cenotaph in taxi to do honor to the American Legion in interest of the “entente cordials.” Legion very unimpressive, followed by self-conscious looking wives. Laid wreath while many broke ranks to take pictures. Description of the Armistice Day observance when all London becomes still as death for two minutes. Dog could be heard barking from far away. “Oh God our Help in Ages Past.” United Services Museum. Glasses on and reading of descriptions of the battle scenes. “Slept in the Inn at Portsmouth where Nelson spent his last night in England. Think I had his bed, felt sorry for Emma.”

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Hampton Court “one of the most treasured spots“ Feeding ducks old buns wrapped up in paper - evidently brought along for the purpose. Tea - most of the bread and butter went to the sparrows. Nap under the trees by little pond where the ducks were playing around and diving and wagging their tails. Kingston on Thames “The Empire” all sorts of pubs. Bus from Kingston to Richmond. The big house by the common - Richmond Hill - “It used to be the second turning on the right” underground from Richland to London. Brighten Fortune teller on the pier, yellow teeth, yellow whites of the eyes, black ringlets, skin probably yellow under the layers of powder and rouge. “A gentleman friend who’s friendship you must keep at all costs. He has an encumbrance, does all he can now, at the end of your life you will get your dearest wish, the wish of your whole life.” Stories Uncle Alf Able seaman Duffy HQ Wells of cremation of his wife Comments on her writings, “stories always had a weird quality, tragedy and horror. Two lovers in a boat fell into water at supreme moment of their love.” Weeds just wrapped around them and they died. Captain of Lancastria were later torpedoed in the Laconia – locked himself in his cabin and went down with the ship. “He had enough.” Uncles “concubine” coming up to Liverpool docks. Had had a “message” to go was wearing uncle‘s coat to be doubly sure. The Black Sea Fleet – Admiral – who came aboard to see that P.M. Renark of General Alexander roused the first and only laugh coming from the BSF. Steward - “that’s royal sweat, sir.” Penny in open purse of woman looking up at Waring and Gillians window.

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Lidice Edna St. Vincent Malay’s poem in Life, illustrated by very black drawings, black clouds and gaunt figures. Appropriate enough at the time perhaps, but after seeing Lidice or rather this site of Lidice, I wish I were a poet or an artist myself. I went out there one day - it isn’t far from Prague, out through the suburbs and into the country, through small villages surrounded by the cultivated strips where men were plowing with oxen and women gleaning the last bits from the harvest. It was a soft, cloudy day, not dull uniform gray overcast, but masses of puffy clouds. The edges lighted up by the sun above them. The villages are all pale ocher and red tiles, the center, the pond fringed with willow’s where the geese swim. There weren’t many people in the village, just a woman here and there, and a few children. Almost everyone was in the field. Just after going through such a village, we came to Lidice. If you think you have experienced every emotion, you should see Lidice. There isn’t anything there except a little graveyard which has been re-constructed by guesswork since the Germans left. Three or four of the graves are marked by bits and pieces of the broken tombstones which have been found by the survivors - by people from the village nearby, for this graveyard served other villages then Lidice. It doesn’t take more than 20 minutes to walk around Lidice and read the few markers which have been put up. Horah’s Farm, where all the men were lined up and shot, the school, the church, and the pond. Not even the pond remains - the little stream which fed it was diverted and choked up and now trickles another channel and disappears in a muddle of marsh grass. Scraggly little blue wildflowers, burs and course grass covering Lidice, but all around there is cultivation. Summer crops gathered and winter crops sown. In a rise of ground opposite is a large wooden cross with a crown of barbwire and the planting of flowers at the base. Behind that is a wooden stand used on festival days with the inscription in four languages. “Lidice will rise again.” And on the hill beyond that are the barracks for the workers who will build the new Lidice. The new Lidice on the hill looking across to the side of the old. There are 50 women and six or seven children waiting for the new Lidice. As we were leaving a man from the next village came along with a child on the handlebars of his bicycle. He didn’t smile, his face had no expression. The child didn’t smile either. “Britain and America want to rebuild Germany - we are afraid.” Re: the Marshall Plan.

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Kapitain Bernard Nothing very special about him, not a particular hero although he hid five Americans for three months amongst the potatoes in the cellar and had 31 visits from the Gestapo. Always in the middle of the night, one or two in the morning when they came making a big noise, clanking on the stairs, banging on the door, loud voices. The child screamed always with terror, the wife fainted. But Kaitain B was never taken by the Gestapo, nor were the five Americans discovered amongst the potatoes. If they had been - KB made a gesture of cutting his throat. He has never heard from any of the Americans which seems too bad, but perhaps they never got home. Maria Maria lives with her mother and grandmother. Her grandfather lives in a little room somewhere upstairs. Maria’s mother can hardly be said to count. She has been queer ever since Maria‘s older sister died of meningitis. She moves around not seeming to see or hear and when she takes Maria in her arms her face hasn’t any expression at all. The grandfather was a professor of medicine at the university of Barcelona, now he works as an electrician in a Paris factory. He speaks English well, but I didn’t see him. He was at work. The grandmother is the concierge of the building, and she and Maria and Maria‘s mother have the room at the right of the entrance. Perhaps they have it for nothing in return for her services as a concierge. Maria is eight years old. On the wall there is a photograph of her dancing teacher with an inscription to the effect that she is his future, that he loves her very much and gives her a big kiss. It’s hard to think of the future for Maria. It’s easy to imagine her as the premier dancer at the Opera Comique. It’s easy to see her already arrived, but it’s the years between now and then that are hard to visualize. She is pale, as no child should be pale. She never sees the sun except as she walks to the underground station every afternoon with her grandmother on the way to her dancing lessons. She doesn’t play outdoors in the morning, that tires her. She must save her strength for the lessons. The exacting grueling training of the ballet dancer, with piano, singing, and ordinary school work thrown in. Not a ray of sunshine comes in to the single room where she and her grandmother and mother live. An unshaded electric light hanging from the ceiling burns all day on the brightest days. The room is musty and stuffy - filled in every nook and cranny with the poor possessions salvaged from the wreckage in Spain. Books, periodicals and

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papers are stuffed over and above the wardrobe and under the single bed. There are many pictures on the walls, pictures taken long ago of the grandmother and grandfather when they were living in happy circumstances in Spain. Pictures of people who are no longer living, and Maria’s older sister Denise. And in one corner is a cabinet filled with medicines, pills for this and that, but mainly for giving strength, orange colored globules, vitamins. “I buy medicines in advance,” said the grandmother. “I am terrified that she will be in sometime when I have no money.” Maria’s mother stares at the wall and says nothing. “You must put on your costume and dance a little.” The costume is pink and very rusty and small. A little crown of pink flowers goes on Maria’s black curls. “She lives for the dance, she lives in the dance, every motion is grace.” The grandmother is shapeless now but the aristocratic head and face retain traces of what she was. She speaks with a frightening intensity pouring all her hopes and longings into Maria. To frail a vessel to hold so much concentrated emotion. Obediently she goes through some steps somehow avoiding the small rusty stove, the bed and the table. She pirouetted and danced in the little pink costume, all grace, but so terribly tired and frail. The mother stared at the wall. The grandmother stared at Maria with too much concentration. Maria responded but she is too young, too fragile to be subjected to such concentration. “Not too much, you must not tire yourself.” The grandmother relaxed. The mother, roused from her reverie repeated the words. “Not too much, you must not tire yourself.”

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