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Frances PerkinsFrances Perkins
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packed in. There are only eight of us in one cabin.”

They were coming home, that was the important thing-- and they were going to get home before Christmas. It was magnificent.

We had to come out onto an outer deck, and walk along that deck, and then into another door to go down to the dining-room. There used to be, lined up against that railing and that wall, the most woe-begone looking people. They had on the most terrible clothes. Of course, I realized afterwards when I saw them getting off the ship--these were their fatigues, working clothes--just all massy and messed up. They didn't shave, because they couldn't shave. There wasn't enough water. They just looked awfully, just terribly. They looked like thugs, you know. I would say to myself, “Isn't this terrible!” and I would try to speak to them. I couldn't bear to walk by them every day, every night, and not speak to them. But I think their orders were strict, so my cousin told me, their orders were strict: they were not to talk to civilian passengers, they were just not to have anything to do with them. They were not to talk to them. I don't know why--they might get out of hand, I suppose, you know.

Anyhow, I would say, “Good evening,” and “How are you?” But they had to be pretty strict about it, you know. They would kind of grunt, and I would realize that they were under





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