Fraternity-Testvériség, 1944 (22. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1944-03-01 / 3. szám
TESTVÉRISÉG 7 rubble and debris of blasted buildings, tends to make one mentally minimize the stark horror of actual bombings. For now, where once tall buildings and homes stood, there is but the cellar structure left of many buildings, and reclaimed once more by nature, with grass and weeds sprouting between the gaping cavities in the earth. Entire blocks have been destroyed, and it is not an uncommon thing to see two or three blocks in a row with perhaps one or two buildings left standing in each. In many cases taller buildings (four, five, and six story) have been gutted all the way through, save for the ground floor, which is still being used as stores and shops. The cathedral is absolutely blasted, ^though the spire and much of the bulding itself is still standing. However there is no roof over any of it, and within the empty walls and behind the gaping windows there is nothing. One tries to visualize what transpired here, with the multitudes flocking nightly to the shelters, hearing the ominous drone of planes overhead and trembling in their shelters from the quaking of the earth as the bombs rained down upon their homes and establishments. If ever people were called upon to exhibit staunch courage and a certain admirable stubborness and tenacity, these Coventry people were, for almost no street in the city was spared and it doesn’t seem as though many families were not affected one way or another by the devastation. But strangely, the citizens we saw going about their daily tasks looked as normal and as typically English as one would have expected to meet anywhere in England. It must be this spirit of the English people which saved their country during the blitz, for if people could stand what those in this city stood, they can stand anything. Today, some months after the worst of it was over, they walk about among these constant reminders as unconcernedly as though nothing had happened there, and are inclined to apologize for whatever inconveniences the visitor might suffer which are attributable to the bombings. We understood them to say that for the great part incendiary bombs had been dropped on the town, accounting for the great number of hollow shells of buildings in the town. I cannot imagine anything more dismall or depressing than to walk along the street, on a rainy night for instance, and look up to see that the buildings along each side which in almost any town seem to be comforting, guarding sentinels at night, watching over the passers-by and keeping patrol all the night long for them, are, in this case, but empty shells — their windows gaping sightlessly into the streets, with the light of day or night streaming uninterruptedly through them from above — and the walls sometimes ending in the skeleton, bony fingers of the roof arches and supports, with no apparent usefulness, since the roof they once supported has long since been burned out. These blackened beams and curved arches seem to be clutching fingers, groping blindly skyward to snatch from the dark the enemy which caused them so much hurt. A blasted building is like a man’s shattered dream; though the effort and love and labor he put into this dream is still there, the inner spirit which warmed it and made it live has died out. So with these buildings. — A bombed town is not a pretty sight. Godsent Vicirolas Our office is gradually becoming quite a social center. There is nowhere on the base where the men can go to crul up with a good book, or hear music or write letters. They get rather fed up spending night' after night in their barracks, so we have encouraged them to come and spend the evening with us. Tonight, for example, there have been a few dozen who popped in to stay a bit, and six or seven who have been en- sconcer in various corners of the room all evening. Two are playing the victrola (which instrument is a godsend here); the others have all found a comfortable chair and are reading. It looks cheerful and comfortable and as cozy as can be expected in the army — and we know it’s good for them. Every single piece we play on the victrola is like a voice from home, and the nostalgia which evidently grips all who hear them is difficult to describe, but very much felt. People have different ways of showing their emotions. Some look very sad and melancholy. Others get dreamy looks on their faces as they remember some special incident dear to their memories, connected with the different songs. The fact that many of our records are American recordings, by recognized orchestras, has a lot to do with affecting the men, because oddly enough, the same selections played as the English orchestras play them, don’t seem to have the same appeal to us as the styles and arrangements which we are familiar with. Most of the men can tell what orchestra is playing without ever looking at the record. We just had a rendition of Dinah Shore playing “Stardust” and it just calls us home. Géza Gedeon Takaró "SOHASEM FOGOK MEGFELEDKEZNI" Westminster Choir College Princeton, N. J. March 2, 1944 Mr. George E. K. Borshy, 1726 Pennsylvania Ave., N. W., Washington, D. C. Nem csak az ösztöndíj, hanem az őszinte kívánság vele, nagyon boldoggá tett, mikor a múlt héten a részletet megkaptam. Bizony sohasem fogok megfeledkezni azokról a magyar testvéreimről, akik ebben részt vettek. Arra pályázom, hogy a Keresztyén Egyházakban tölthessek esz tendőket a Krisztus szava tanításában az éneklésem által. őszinte szeretettel, Tóth Erzsiké. KERESTETÉS Édesanyja keresi Magyar Istvánt, aki 1932 szeptemberben eltávozott hazulról. Kérem őt vagy aki tud róla, értesítsen hollétéről s én megjutalmazom. Üzenem neki: testvére Magyar Mihály meghalt. Jöjjön haza! Csizmadia Sándomé 178 E. Archwood Ave. Akron, Ohio
