They Called It the War Effort: Oral Histories from World War II Orange, Texas

Appendixes

Appendixes Appendix 1 Orange 1944 We shall always remember the sights of Orange. The proud Sabine— Holding solemnly the hulls of unfinished ships, Orange ships, gray ships, yellow ships, Destroyers, DEs, and LCIs, Sailboats, motorboats, Coast Guard patrols, Houseboats, barges, and the old Caribbean, Resting ships from foreign ports. The shipyards at night like carnivals bright with lights, Casting a red glow in the eastern sky. Grasping cranes with giant arms hoisting heavy loads. • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • Riverside— Shelter for workmen and their families, Gray houses, frail houses, Like rows of matchboxes on a grocer’s shelf. Streets filled with water Whether the sun shines or it rains. Tiny yards of river sand, Tufts of sickly grass struggling for life. Cars parked endlessly on one-way streets, Traffic jams, The give and take of rushing cars, Wrecked cars, smashed fenders, Muddy cars, rusty cars, Naked-looking, tireless cars. • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • they called it the war effort 458 Downtown— Throngs of people hurrying endlessly, Worn-out taxis darting in and out, Crowded buses moving painfully, Lines in banks on payday, Crowds awaiting turns at shows and eating places, Eager women rushing after scarce goods The grocer just received. An over-crowded town Like an ant bed alive with too many ants. On every vacant lot Patched-up shacks and mildewed, homemade tents, Wheelless trailers, settled side by side, Built for three or four But sheltering six or eight. Lines strung from camp to camp Holding dingy wash, Leaving no place for children to play. • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • Old Orange— Weather-beaten palms near crowded schools, Delicate camellias, azaleas rare in front of stately mansions, Carriage houses, servants’ quarters, Hitching posts and iron fences, Spanish moss on ancient oaks, Magnolia trees and cypress. • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • We shall always remember the sounds of Orange. From the shipyards— The staccato rhythm of the riveting, The clanking of steel, the pounding of sledge hammers, A ship’s shrill whistle being tuned, The dismal wail of a fog horn Mingling with the cry of a sea gull, The groaning, snapping, cracking, splashing, When a ship slides down the ways. • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • In town— The terrifying scream of the sirens, The honking of the police department’s “trouble horn,” Jukeboxes carelessly jumbling jive, 459 Appendix 1 Bowling pins crashing in the alleys, Roller skates rumbling on the rink, The two-toned whistle of sailors When any girl passes by. The clatter of dishes in a crowded cafe, The shrill, impatient voice of a waitress, The cheerful chime of a cash register, The music of the Salvation Army band on Saturday night, The clicking of balls in the pool hall, The loud laughter of men. The blast of a finishing whistle, Laboring gasps from the shuttle train Straining with its load of grim-faced, grimy workers, The mumbling of voices and shuffling of feet, The roar of starting cars and the grinding of brakes, The discordant horns and the whistle of the guards, All sounds of the changing shift. Crowds drifting away as evening settles down, Tolling church bells, the symbol of peace and worship, The monotonous tapping of rain on the roof, The sigh of wind through the trees. • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • We shall always remember the people of Orange, Serious people, Laughing people, Dirty, greasy, tired people, Working people all. Men with helmets and lunch boxes, Well-dressed men from stores or banks, Doctors, tired and over-worked, Hurrying nurses, brisk and clean. Chattering, laughing boys and girls, Sailors wandering aimlessly, Soldiers crammed in convoy trucks, People speaking English queerly, French, Italian, Mexican. A blind beggar playing an accordion, A tamale man with his rickety cart, Drunk men from across the river, One-legged men on wooden stumps, Bandaged, injured workers. they called it the war effort 460 Red Cross volunteers in uniform, Women cab drivers and waitresses, Housewives burdened with groceries. Irritable bus drivers with their “Move back,” The shipyard worker saying “Get out of my way,” with his eyes, Teachers with the calm complaint, “Many more pupils than I had desks today.” Ministers, nuns, and Catholic Priests, Western Union messengers, Theater ushers and dime store clerks, Nursemaids and yard boys, Children who have never worked before Wearing aprons, Selling goods, Bearing loads. Old settlers, newcomers working all together. • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • ฀ ฀ ฀ • Crowded Orange— Sometimes noisy, ever busy and alive, Singing, laughing, praying, swearing, Working, sweating, pushing, rushing, Building, struggling, Always doing things. Norma Scott Johnson was the teacher of the classes that composed this poem. [18.116.42.208] Project...