THE VAGABOND

News Item--"A Russian soldier was found fallen in the snow. In his pocket there was a bundle of letters, wrapped in an old newspaper. . . ."

daybreak, and bitter cold, the huge station's black and sooty iron arch gigantically sprawls over people. Mobs, like a water whirlpool, center sullenly turning, edges flicking, breaking, everywhere soldiers, soldiers, soldiers. Clots of people about them, wives, children, relatives, friends.

one group, five men and their wives. They're laughing. In the middle, dominating, a head taller than his fellows, stands a first lieutenant, decorated for bravery in China, powerful build, rugged angled faces, flashing smile, thick black hair. On his shoulder perches his little son. Beside him hovers his wife, shyly watching.

jet and glossy, hair, fair skin, slight, almost skinny figure, she is still pretty ... young, scared . . . at the noise, welling up, drowning her, beating the ugly mocking arch overhead.

noise, and cold. penetrating. band blares out, brassy noise. death rattling roll of drums. noise, a strident scream. angry hissing. belches of cotton smoke ... the train grates in.

from a deafening maelstrom, little snatches ... darling, stop worrying ...just precautionary ... no war in Esthonia...in a mouth.

He hugs the boy, kisses her goodbye.

"Please write me whether they have listed you for long term service. I felt from the start..."

"We have a hard time of it. There doesn't seem to be any work, and they refused to pay men any extra allowance. All we have is seven rules to live on..."

"I have lost track of many letters I wrote you. I don't understand why you don't get my letters... and why your whereabouts is kept secret."

"Why don't you answer my letters? Why do you have a new address, although the papers don't mention any transfer? Sima, I feel they are taking your farther and farther away from us."

"I had signed up as charwoman in a workers' barracks..."

slums, twisting, writhing blocks of slums. garbage in the streets. acid yellow soap. floors, cockroaches. filth... arms ache. knees sting "Seen what we got to scrub?..."

Never went back. I shall look for work some where else..."

"Write before the holiday. I won't have a very gay holiday without you, Sima."

"We have eaten up our last kopeks. What in the world will Lyonya and I do? I inquired about the letters I sent you...must wait forty-two days, and then file a written request for tracing them. I have no idea where you are..."

a gray sign, nailed up. local headquarters huddled lines of people. hall cold and drafty the boy's cough, every night. stomach hurts huddled lines of sacks, shapeless, lumps. crawling, crawling in the queues. a desk, brass label...my baby...I'd like to be...about an allowance... asking asking asking.

"I found work in a factory. It's very irregular, and I don't know how much I shall earn.

"Yesterday I was told that you weren't permitted to write, as you were on secret duty. But I just cannot believe..."

"I am so lonely and unhappy a letter would cheer me...if anything happened I should have your letter as a last keepsake."

"Yesterday I got my first month's wages. It was very small on account of the irregularity of the work. But I wouldn't care if only you yourself would get home. I wonder how matters will end..."