The carpeted staircase of the Seaman's Club at Archangel was pounded smooth by feet from many lands. Cheerful, blue-bloused, smoking, joking, swearing lads greeted each other in universal monosyllables, sang the songs of home, danced with Russian girls. War, even in Russia, had its interludes.

Weary, tense sailors fresh from battered convoys sat in soft chairs in the well-stocked library overlooking the river, read Gorky, Tolstoy, studied Russian. British airmen pounded out newly learned Russian songs on a piano. In the evening U.S., British and Soviet films were shown, and the Soviet Northern Fleet's song-&-dance team performed to gusty applause. Early...

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