* * * * *
Road signs have been taken down all over England, in case of invasion.
The names of towns on public and private signs have been painted over
with black paint. The result is that the average Englishman trying to
drive even a little way from home gets lost and has to stop and inquire
the way about every two miles.
It is against the law to leave a car that could be driven away by
the Germans. You have to immobilize your car when you leave it, even
though you might be walking only fifty feet away to ask a policeman
for directions. In daytime, just locking the doors and taking the key
counts as immobilization, but at night you have to take out some vital
part, such as the distributor.
Most cars over here are small ones, from 8 to 15 horsepower. No new
cars at all are being manufactured for sale. The price of second-hand
cars is shooting up, because the army is taking all it can get.
If you wreck your car badly it is almost impossible to get repairs, due
to the control of materials and the shortage of civilian mechanics.
Many garages and gas stations are closed. A great many garage men have
gone into the tank corps. These tank corps men wear the regular brown
uniform, the same as the rest of the army, but they have a blue cloth
cap, like a beret, which drops over one ear, making them look very
cocky and tough.
* * * * *
During the past month I have traveled about 1500 miles by train and 500
by car, and except for small things the travel service was excellent.
I have been on twelve different trains, and except for the week-end we
got caught in a Yorkshire blizzard I’ve never been more than half an
hour late in reaching my destination.
In the latter part of my travels, after getting the hang of things, I
rode third-class all the time. It’s about one-third cheaper, and the
only difference is that the seats are just a shade nicer in first class
and you sit with officers instead of soldiers. Frequently there are
first- and third-class compartments in the same car.
The railroads get a lot of criticism, but I think they are doing
wonderfully. They have not been taken over by the government.
Occasionally a section of track will be blown to extinction. The
railroads have a time limit on themselves of ten hours, I believe it
is, no matter how big the crater or how twisted the wreckage, in which
to have trains moving again across the bombed spot.
And the way these trains blast along through the night, with no lights,
gives you the shivers. One road has just raised its wartime speed limit
from sixty miles an hour to seventy-five.
There is one thing about the British railroads that I haven’t figured
out yet. You’ll get on a train that is the dinkiest local you ever saw,
stopping at every crossroads, taking hours to go a few miles. Then all
of a sudden, halfway to where you’re going, the thing mysteriously
becomes a highball express and makes the last half of the trip going
like the wind, roaring through cities without even stopping.