We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
18 Si^
hundred yards away, but we decided that we had to make a break for it then or never. We jumped up and scattered for the woods. The tank opened up on us, but I don't think that it got many that time.' Three hours after the slaughter less than twenty survivors had made their way back to the American lines. Jack
February, 1945
Belden of Time Magazine and I rode back to this clearing station with the first survivors picked up by our reconnaissance jeeps."
That is the end of the story transmitted by Hal Boyle. That story is the answer to the man on Greenbrier Drive in Dallas who believes in the "greatness" of the German people.
Why Don} We Do This More Often?
By WORRAL G. SONASTINE
rather stout Negro woman was leaking her way along a crowded sidewalk with a large market basket. She was apparently trying to catch a bus that stood at a near-by bus stop, but it seemed doubtful that she would make it. A nicelooking, neatly dressed white woman took hold of the basket and helped the other woman carry it to the bus. Laughing pleasantly, she assisted the colored woman up the steps, then turned away as though nothing had happened. But something had happened.
Witnessing this little episode gave me a pleasant sensation around the heart. It was quite evident from the looks on faces about me that this nice feeling would be spread further abroad that day.
A woman had just purchased a pound of butter. As she moved toward the door, another customer asked for butter. "I'm sorry," answered the grocer, "but I just sold the last bit I had to that woman going out the door." TTie woman who was leaving turned again to the counter she had just left. "You may have half of this butter," she told the other woman, with a smile. She handed the package to the grocer saying, "Will you please cut it in half for us, Mr. Arnold?"
I saw the eyes of numerous customers shining with pleasure at this friendly gesture.
Mrs. Cohen, who lives in the block next to ours, received one of those heart-rending telegrams from the War Department informing her that her son had been killed in action. One of the first to call and offer condolences was a young Catholic priest from the little parish house just around the corner.
I raised the receiver on a telephone the other day and was about to dial a number when I noticed that someone was already using the line. Before I could hang up, I heard one of the speakers — a woman — say in a warm, friendly voice: "I think the other party on my line wants to use the phone, Martha. The call may be urgent; so ril call you back later. 'Bye."
Why don't we do such things more often? It has made me feci good just to put these down on paper. I wonder if Hitler and Hirohito ever experience the pleasurable thrill one gets in performing little acts of kindness like those which I have mentioned. Some people don't know what they are missing. — jrom "Good Busir.es!:."