A wind whipped across Newark Bay, whistled through the skeleton structures of ways and unfinished steel ships. Inside one of the vast, gaping hulls, on the sunny side of a bulkhead, was a warm, temporarily peaceful spot. A man in a blue workshirt took a quick look around, grunted, eased himself down. Thousands of other men were riveting, welding, working in other parts of the great yard. For half an hour or so he would not be missed. He snoozed.
Up & down the East, West, Gulf coasts, this scene was repeated. No...
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