Nothing But the Best

PRISONERS Nothing But the Best

Passengers boarding the Pennsylvania Limited at Washington, D.C. one day last week peered curiously at the 16 prisoners of war in the private car at the end of the train. They were Germans—mostly veterans of the ill-fated Afrika Korps; they looked smug and well-fed in their khaki uniforms stenciled with large P.W.s. Three U.S. Army noncoms watched over them.

Halfway to New York City some of the passengers got a better look. The dining car was crowded for lunch. Waiters hustled to clear away the debris of departed diners. Four standees waited to be fed. Then the Germans filed in, stood stiffly while their guards bustled about ordering diners to seats at other tables so the prisoners could sit together. , The P.W.s ate a hearty dinner of stewed chicken, white bread, jam, ice cream. The standees swallowed their anger. On the battlefronts U.S. soldiers ate “C” rations from cans, and were glad to have them.