Lowell Sun (Saturday, September 26, 1942)
SAMPASCOOPIES
Charles G. Sampas
[…]
I wonder about the two young
wives that sit so close to the violet wool lady—I wonder if they heard her
blithe idiotic remark ‘You’d hardly know there was a war going on, would you?’ …
They MUST have heard it … and I wonder
how they felt … Didn’t they feel, surely, like turning to her savagely and
telling her that THEY can tell there is a war going on … Didn’t they feel like
telling her about how lonely they are for their husbands—overseas now—and how
worried—and about the dreams that are packed away in lavender, the dreams that
may never come true, the boys that may never return, the hearts that may break?
…
They must feel cold, breathless
rage, at the remark of the young violet-wool lady … They must feel futile anger
that their husbands are fighting so that carefully-coiffed young women, like
the violet-wool can sit in comfort in a music-filled nighterie to make absurd
remarks like “You’d hardly know there was a war going on, would you?” …
Eleven little words … harmless in
themselves … and perhaps it’s just the mood I was in. but the words seemed to
be wavering over her smooth blonde head, so that she seemed constantly to be
repeating them … like a balloon filled with words that tell you what a
character in the comic strips is saying …
When you’ve been working hard all
day in the midst of telegraphed reports on the war, from all news services.
from all fronts—when all the words you read and edited on the Stalingrad
stories, on the ship sinkings, on the Singer-missing stories, on the Solomons
and Madagascar and the R.A.F. and the underground and the reprisal killings and
the desert fighting—when all three words jump around in your brain as you sit
there, coddling your coffee, no longer warm, and trying to relax yourself into
the music, those little eleven words of the violet-wool lady strike you the
wrong way … Because you’re conscious every minute, every second of the war—as every
American should be conscious. MUST be conscious, if the war is to be won …
Maybe I felt so coldly angry at
her remark because my wife and I had just been talking about a lad who’d
visited our home so often, a laughing lad named Jack Kerouac, from whom we’d
heard last when he joined the merchant marine and was on his way to Russia … An
aware young man, this Jack, who cut his college career in half to do what he
could as his contribution to this war …
We were talking about Jack,
somewhere en route to Russia, over the cold dark waters at the top of the
world, and we were thinking, too, of the German report that 41 ships of a
convoy to Russia had been sunk, and we were wondering about the truth of the
report, and hoping that, somehow, Jack’s ship was not around at that time, and
knowing that it would be a long time before we’d know—about Jack getting to
Russia—about Jack—coming home again …
Such an inane, silly remark “You’d
hardly know there was a war going on, would you?” And yet, Young Violet Lady,
there must be many friends of yours now scattered around the wide, dangerous
corners of the war, if only as a nuisance that’s done away with your silk
stockings and made such a headache for you, of the gasoline problem…You MUST be
conscious of the war, if only as it affects you now, this moment, when you are
out with a boy at least five years your junior … Would this be so if those
other lads were home, and not carrying guns or flying planes or cutting through
death-lurking waters? …
Listen Violet-Wool: Hate the war! Rage against it! Be bitter and hurt
and resentful about it—but don’t ignore it! … Cry because of it! … Tremble
because of it! … Be frightened stiff or courageous over it! … But never pretend
it isn’t here! … Keep the war close to you, like a pain and like a sorrow!
Think of it exultantly and proudly, like a crusade or like a holy obligation—but
don’t be bored by it! … never—not for a moment—dismiss it from your mind with
small-talk, conversation-making remarks like:
“You’d hardly know there was a war
going on, would you?”
Never
say that again!