Letters 10 Part 3
Brother Gene arrives in Waco with a tale of travel and is barely recognized by his oldest brother John. Lee's studies at Baylor are ending.
June 24, 1943
The chief news this time is about Gene's arrival. J.C White, his old grade school chum, and I went down to meet his train. My two years' absence from Gene hadn't made a big difference, but J.C. wouldn't have known the husky six-footer who easily picked us out on the platform.
We soon made an American out of him with a quid of chewing gun in his mouth, and selections from his brothers’ wardrobes. He hadn't been able to get clothes in India, he said, and in South Africa everywhere he went the merchants just looked at his size and shook their heads. "A suit for you? No. No!"
This is the gist of the story that came out in the Waco paper. After waiting rather hopelessly several months for passage, Gene suddenly found himself on board a British transport leaving Bombay March 21. It zigzagged through mine fields to Durban, its first stop. After leaving there, the captain had orders to go back and discharge all civilian passengers owing to submarine danger around the southern coast.
Gene was only one of a whole horde of civilians from that and other boats, stranded to wait indefinitely. Three weeks later some of then got as far as Cape Town where they waited another week. Then another transport heading for New York the long way round took them on. They crept westward around the southern tip of South America.
Gene said the passage through the Straits of Magellan was a sight to remember all his life. Only 200 miles wide, the passage afforded a good sight of both sides sheer snow capped hills only a day's journey from the Antarctic. The hills were a fairyland of glaciers and waterfalls, and beyond the Straits the sea was literally ashine with luminescent whitecaps.
Hugging the west coast of South America as much as possible they came at last to the Panama Canal, and via it, very carefully, on to New York. The boat travelled in darkness but Nazi prisoners on board gave trouble breaking their portholes and flashing signals. All able-bodied passengers including Gene stood two-hour duty periods at the gun turrets all the way across. By way of recreation they held daily gunnery practice, so if Gene never sees more active duty he will have had a taste.
There is so much more to write but I'm sure the censors will cut it out. You will have to rest content for the present knowing that Gene, little fourth son, is here with me now. We'll get him registered right away.
July 24,1943
Gene and I are always being mistaken for each other. We might be twins except he is three inches taller than I. It's wonderful having him here and we delight to talk over all times. He is digging into his studies hard, too hard, perhaps, but I shan't dampen his enthusiasm.
For me there are only four weeks of school left at this institution. The courses continue hard, as for instance, Chemistry alone requires six hours a day in the lab.
In the July 19 Time Magazine I saw pictures of Chand Pandit and her young sister Tara in their saris. They have come over to attend Wellesley College. Before she left Woodstock Chand had thought she might like to study journalism at Oxford. I expect the war and maybe political developments changed all that.
August 20, 1943
Gene has been writing all our common news so I will make this short. You will like to hear that John came by a few days ago to see us. The Leuschner angels had taken Gene out to a rodeo show one evening, and when they got back to the house, there was John, handsomer than ever in his new ensign's uniform.
He greeted the Leuschners but never recognized Gene at all. "Just like always, "thought Gene, "the lowest form of animal life." (That's what we used to call him when we wanted to be mean.) So he had to be introduced to his own brother.
John couldn't believe his eyes. He just stood there shaking hands like one in a dream, like he did with me, repeating in his mother-tongue, "Bhai kotho boro! Bhai kotho boro! (Brother, how big)" All the evening we caught him staring at Gene and mumbling, "No, this can't be Gene!"
"Ho' te pare, na-o hoite pare" (it may be, it may not be)," Father's favorite little phrase, he kept saying doubtfully to himself. He speaks Bengali perfectly and gets a great kick out of it. Six years' absence from his little brother had made a big difference to him.
Shreveport, Louisiana
September 8, 1943
Gene and I are spending the inter-session holidays here with the Oakes of whom I wrote you before. We are having a wonderful time with lots of sleep, rest for the eyes, play in the sun, and--you will laugh--marvelous home-cooked food!
Summer is over and my days at Baylor are at an end. All three of my courses were scientific and very difficult. In addition I worked three hours a day at the college dispensary, good medical practice for me.
I think I wrote you I received a tuition scholarship for my first year at Hopkins, to be continued if I maintain a high average. I have also heard from the Pennsylvania Medical Missionary Society that my application to them has been approved and I am eligible for $600 a year all the way through. It's going to cost $2000 a year, but one thing I know: I am going through Johns Hopkins Medical School! I look forward to it with the greatest excitement.
Gene has got his bearings and has made a lot of friends. Soon after arrival he was called up by the Draft Board but as yet no decision has come through, I know if he were classified I-A our only hope lay in presenting his case to the Appeal Board. I turned lawyer and wrote up his case with all the pertinent facts he hadn't bothered to mention, and filed it at the local Board office. Even six months' deferment will help him get started here. My own deferment lasts till the end of the year and will continue if I get into med school, either with or without Navy help.
Dr. Rowland, my psychology professor, nearly had a convulsion when he found out I was born at Midnapore where the famous "wolf children" were raised. He sponsored a program, a posh affair with engraved invitations to about 200 people, with L. Howard as principal speaker.
Well, you know old L Howard! One of the waifs died before I was born and I never saw the other, but I managed to convey some local atmosphere. I read up all the material at the library, Gessell's and Zingg's books, and various articles you had sent. I showed some lantern slides of the children (made from the book plates) and pictures I took myself around Midnapore. I mentioned the fact that the doctor who treated the wolf girls was none other than our own Dr. Sarbadhikari, "Suchin Babu", who brought me through that almost fatal attack of malignant malaria when I was three. In Dr.Zingg's book he mentions "The Reverend J.A. Howard, a colleague of Rev. Singh" with disappointment because you didn't enlighten him very much on the matter.
Yesterday I got a letter from you four months on the way in answer to one I wrote you nine months ago! Gene and I often discuss the wisdom of our parents, but we had to come away from you to see it. We are just beginning to see how right you have always been, and we thank you from our hearts for your good teaching and your love.
Father, you often say you haven't been much of a success as a father. Far from it! You and Mother have given us a set of values and an example of Christianity that are now serving us well. Unfortunately we were too immature to appreciate you at home. Maybe we had to test what we had, comparing it with some other things in the world. Since none of us ever swallowed anything lock, stock and barrel, even our parents' words, without some thinking on our own part, we can now say we have proved you have given us some thing solid to live by.
We see such un-stableness all around us. Gene and I both agree Father knew more than we ever suspected, and that Mother is the greatest woman we have ever known. From no one else have we received such understanding and love, and I could not possibly put on paper all our indebtedness to you, or our appreciation. We are only proud to be your sons.
Here are my plans: I shall return to Waco to get Gene started in the fall term, pick up my loose ends, spend sone time with a certain lass, and finish packing.
Then I shall go to the New Mexico ranch. The Roaches are having a hard tine, no rain and the sheep dying. Maybe I can pitch in and help till time to leave for med school. They have done so much for me this is the least I can do for them, and besides, the sunshine and wide open spaces will be good for me.