Skip to main content

Full text of "The Link"

See other formats 


liiilliiiili 


/Seen/A^ 


TO  SmiaMCNAND  WOMIN 


It  is  a  privilege  and  an  insi)iration  to  meet  a  truly  great  human  being.  It 
tightens  the  belt  of  one's  faith,  both  in  human  nature  and  in  God. 

The  sm.all  community  from  whicli  I  write  had  this  opportunity  recently, 
and  many  lives  have  been  touched  by  that  experience,  some  changed  for  the 
infinite  better. 

This  time  it  was  a  woman,  a  very  beautiful  woman  whose  father  was  an 
Arabian  prince  of  great  charm,  and  whose  mother  was  a  school  teacher  in 
Germany.  The  young  woman  herself  came  up  the  hard  way.  coming  to  this 
country  after  the  separation  of  her  parents  and  becoming  a  dynamic  figure  in 
juvenile  court  work.  She  is  now  a  representative  of  the  United  Nation's  Aid 
to  Children  campaign,  an  arm  of  the  Alarshall  Plan.  And  if,  as  I  stoutly 
believe,  the  gauge  of  greatness  is  the  willingness  to  become  conspicuous, 
even  ridiculous,  for  the  sake  of  what  one  believes  in,  then  this  young  woman 
is  of  that  fraternity. 

And  there  are  other  indications  of  the  greatness  of  this  lovely  crusader : 
her  gratitude  towards  even  the  most  insignificant  contribution  to  the  cause, 
and  her  ability  to  transcend  personalities.  On  fund-raising  drives    (a  neces- 
sary adjunct  to  the  vast  humanitarian  eft'ort  beitig  made  in  behalf  of  starving     ; 
children),  this  woman  combs  the  country,  and  it  is  routine  that  the  one  to     \ 
whom  she  is  initially  introduced  in  a  town,  gives  his  or  her  private  opinion 
of  fellow  citizens.  Being  human,  these  remarks  and  summaries  often  embody     j 
old  grudges,  past  mistakes,  prejudiced  opinions. 

But,  far  above  these  petty  appraisals,  this  young  woman  manages  to  smile 
pleasantly,  keep  her  mind  and  her  mouth  closed,  and  put  it  all  down  as  | 
inconsequential  to  the  task  at  hand.  And  gradually  one  feels  one's  self  growing  | 
ashamed  of  one's  pettiness,  and  in  the  glow  of  her  great  and  generous  nature,  i 
growing  bigger  and  kinder,  inside.  Deeply  then,  one  resolves  to  keep  in  mind 
the  words  of  John  Keats:  "I  have  long  taken  for  granted  the  genuine-  ' 
heartedness  of  my  friends,  despite  any  temporary  ambiguousnesses  on  the  ; 
part  of  their  tongues  or  their  behavior."  i 


n 

0 


November,    1948 
Vol.  6  No.   11 


Contents 


Page 


Madame  Entertains 

Mark  S.  Reardon  III 

Kilroy's  Origin? 

Russell    Newbold    .  .  . 


"Without  Violence 

Ed   Galing    - 10 

A  Fire  For  Thanksgiving 

Raymond    Musser     


Corporal  Avery's  Racket 

Harold  Winerip    


Journey  Through  the  Holy  Land  (Part  I) 

James  L.  Harte    


Off  the  Records 

Joey   Sasso    .  .  . 


15 


17 


21 


24 


Writing  as  a  Hobby 

Joseph  Charles   Salak 26 

Exoneration 

Carl   Alemling    31 

People  Who  Live  in  Class  Houses  Shouldn't! 

Oliver  Read   Whitley    


33 


Features 


The  Low-Down 2 

Link  Lines    9 

Topic  Talks 37 

At  Ease !    


Batting   the   Breeze    45 

Daily  Rations   46 

Did  You  Know —   47 

48 


THE  LINK  is  the  official  publication  of  The  Service  Men's  Christian  League,  pub- 
lished monthly  by  The  General  Commission  on  Chaplains  at  815  Demonbreum  St. 
Nashville  3,  Tennessee.  Entered  as  second-class  matter  at  the  Post  Office  at  Nashville 
Tennessee,  under  the  Act  of  March  3,  1879.  Editorial  offices  and  League  Headquarters 
122  Maryland  Avenue,  N.E.,  Washington  2,  D.  C.  Subscription  pi  ice:  $1.50  a  year 
15c  a  single  copy;  10c  a  copy  in  lots  of  ten  or  more.  Copyright,  1948,  by  The  General 
Commission  on  Chaplains.  All  rights  ressrved.  No  part  of  this  magazine  may  be 
reproduced    without    written    permission. 


Delmar  L.  Dyreson,  Editor 
Address  all  communications  to  122  Maryland  Avenue,  N.  E.,  Washington  2,  D 


q 
n 
n 

0 


I 
n 

Q 
0 


Me         m 

f       ON   CONTRIBUTORS  tO~THIS   IS 

Mark  S.  Reardon  Ml,  whom  you  will 
remember  as  the  author  of  My  Orders 
Are  ...  m  the  Link  of  last  April, 
brings  us  another  gripping  story  of  the 
struggle  against  the  Nazi  forces 
(Madame  Entertains,  page  3). 

O    O    O 

Russefl  Newbold  {Kilroy's  Origin? 
page  7),  who  enlisted  for  overseas  serv- 
ice in  the  Infantry  in  January  of  1941, 
saw  the  attack  on  Oahu  and  Pearl 
Harbor.  In  his  three  years  in  the  Pacific 
he  had  combat  duty  on  New  Georgia, 
Arundel,  Kolumbangara,  and  other 
islands.  Back  in  the  States  with  malaria 
in  May  of  '44,  he  was  assigned  to  the 
Parachute  School  public  relations  office, 
and  it  was  there  he  first  "received  the 
yen  to  write."  In  his  postwar  free-lanc- 
ing career  he  has  sold  stories  to  Our 
Navy,  Foreign  Service,  Boots,  and  other 
magazines.  At  present  he  is  leaning  to- 
ward humorous  writing  and  is  branch- 
ing out  into  cartoon  gag  ideas. 

o  o  o 

The  name  of  Ed  Galing  {Without 
Violence,  page  10)  appeared  last  month 
as  author  of  The  Navy  in  the  Air.  His 
story  of  the  gentle  ex-Marine  may  re- 
mind you  of  someone  you  knew  in  the 
war  years. 

O    O    O 

When  Harold  Winerip  tells  of  Cor- 
poral Avery's  Racket,  page  17,  he 
sounds  like  one  who  knows !  However, 
we  don't  believe  he  was  ever  chair-borne, 

for   in   the  course  of  three   and  a   half 

2 


wartime  years,  mainly  with  the  543rd 
Engineer  Boat  and  Shore  Regiment,  he 
took  part  in  two  D-Day  landings — at 
Lingayen  Gulf  and  Zamboanga,  and 
was  authorized  assorted  battle  stars, 
ribbons,  and  assault  arrowheads.  He 
has  been  a  Boston  newspaper  reporter 
and  is  now  a  free-lancer,  having  pub- 
lished in  over  30  national  magazines. 
"The  most  sensible  thing  I  ever  did,"  he 
avers,  "was  marry  a  girl  named  Tilda. 
She  has  big  brown  eyes,  is  smart,  and 
cooks  fine." 

O    O    O 

Joseph  C.  Salak  concludes  his  series  on 
Writing  as  a  Hobby,  page  26.  In  this 
issue  he  gives  you  more  valuable  tips 
and  even  offers  personal  assistance  to 
those  of  you  -who  want  to  write  a  hobby 
article.  Sounds  like  a  mighty  ambitious 
offer  to  us,  but  he  says,  "I  don't  mind 
work."  Step  right  up,  Would-be  authors  ! 

O  O  O 
Carl  Memling  {Exoneration,  page  31) 
another  free-lancer,  says  he  is  "thirty, 
married,  and  a  confirmed  Brooklynite." 
During  the  war  he  served  in  Italy  with 
the  First  Armored  Division. 

o  o  o 

Oliver  Read  Whitley,  former  Navy 
chaplain,  returns  to  the  pages  of  The 
Link  with  People  Who  Live  in  Glass 
EIouscs  Shouldn't,  page  33. 

O    O    O 

Coming:  A  series  of  articles  on 
amateur  theatricals  and  service  shows 
by  Ferris  M.  Weddle  will  begin  in 
next  month's  issue.  This  capable  author, 
who  writes  like  an  old  trooper,  discusses 
such  points  as  talent,  costumes,  scenes, 
behind-the  scenes  requirements,  lights, 
music,  sound  and  direction.  No  matter 
where  you  may  be  stationed,  you  can 
build  vour  own  service  show ! 


alamt 

^/   MARK  S.  REARDON  HI 


After  the  British  Commandos- 
United  States  Rangers'  raid  on  St. 
Nazaire  during  World  War  II,  Madame 
Laroux  was  interrogated  by  the  Ger- 
man zone  commander.  To  block  their 
pursuit  by  U-boats  after  their  attack 
and  retirement,  the  raiders  had  sunk  a 
former  American  destroyer  in  the  chan- 
nel ;  and  after  the  daredevils  black-faced 
for  the  assault,  had  forced  a  landing, 
achieved  their  objective,  and  escaped 
to  their  ships,  it  was  discovered  that 
Col.  Schwarzwald  and  his  staff  had  dis- 
appeared. 

In  spite  of  a  search  no  trace  of  them 
could  be  found;  and  the  commandant 
concluded,  even  as  he  scoffed  at  the 
possibility  to  save  face,  that  they  had 
been  captured  and  carried  oft'  to  Eng- 
land. Still,  military  regulations  de- 
manded further  inquiry. 

At  the  hearing  in  the  Grand  Hotel  on 
rue  Ville-es-Martin,  Madame  Laroux 
was  most  cooperative.  Yet  her  com- 
plaisance belied  her  innermost  feelings; 
for,  after  her  testimony  had  been  given 
to  the  _  commandant's  satisfaction,  she 
was  unexpectedly  startled  by  the  calling 
of  a  surprise  witness. 

He  was  a  garrulous  old  fox,  a  mender 
of  fishing  nets,  who  grubbed  for  his 
living  in  a  shack  by  the  sea.  Brown  and 
wrinkled  as  an  English  walnut,  he  was 
known  to  Aladame  to  be  a  member  of 
the    maquis,    the    French    underground. 


Once  he  had  spit  at  her  and  called  her 
"Collaboratrice."  Furthermore,  he  knew 
of  a  skeleton  in  her  closet. 

Still,  he  was  a  Frenchman;  and 
Madame,  hoping  to  win  him,  smiled ;  but 
he  shunted  his  eyes,  twisting  his  beret 
in  his  hands.  However,  instead  of  reply- 
ing to  the  question,  he  babbled  about 
the  ban  on  the  fishing  fleets,  his  fishing 
nets,  and  his  consequent  losses  in  mend- 
ing them,  until  the  commandant,  ex- 
asperated, ordered  him  from  the  room. 
Turning  then  to  Madame,  penitently 
prayerful,  he  announced : 

"Who  for  this  crime  guilty  is,  shall 
for  it  suffer.  Ja!"  The  veins  in  his 
temples  swelled.  "Pigs!"  Then  as  his 
rancor  ebbed,  unable  to  understand  the 
Allies'  resistance,  he  sniveled,  "Ja,  Frau 
Laroux,  when  all  the  people  like  you 
understand  what  it  is  that  we  would  do, 
then  der  Fiihrer's  New  Order  would  be 
with  us  quick;  and  la  belle  France  with 
all  the  world  already  would  be  para- 
dise." 

When  the  Nazis  goose-stepped  into 
the  seaport,  Afadame  did  not  wait  for 
her  villa  to  be  requisitioned.  She  went  at 
once  to  the  general-in-command  and 
offered  it,  asking  permission  only  to 
use  two  bedrooms,  one  for  herself  and 
the  other  for  her  servant,  Pierre,  a 
one-armed  veteran  of  Verdun. 

Her   limestone   villa   of   many    rooms 

3 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


was  situated  at  the  mouth  of  the  River 
Loire,  beyond  a  sea  wall  that  held  back 
the  tides.  A'isioning  it  as  a  possible 
lookout  and  perceiving  in  Aladame  a 
sensible  and  cooperative  lady  (she  hav- 
ing neglected  to  mention  a  secret  tunnel 
running  from  her  sub-cellar  under  the 
sea  wall  to  the  beach),  the  general  was 
flattered ;  and  no  less  were  Col. 
Schwarzwald  and  his  stafif  on  taking 
possession  to  have  so  charming  a  hos- 
tess ;  for  Aladame  not  only  indulged 
their  whims  but  encouraged  them. 

A  happy  family  indeed,  for  each  vied 
with  the  other  to  please.  The  Germans, 
remembering  the  Baron  Robbers  of  the 
Rhine,  thought  no  less  of  her  because 
her  seafaring  ancestors  had  been  smug- 
glers ;  nor  because  her  husband,  fight- 
ing their  fathers  in  1918,  had  been 
killed  at  Pont  a  Mousson,  leading  his 
Senegalese;  nor  yet  because  her  son, 
born  after  the  Captain's  death,  had  been 
taken  a  prisoner  twenty-two  j^ears  later 
by  the  Axis  at  Lille.  However,  they 
might  not  have  been  so  tolerant  had 
they  heard,  as  ]\Iadame  had  by  grape- 
vine, that  Fernand  had  fled  a  concen- 
tration camp  to  England. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  they  did  suffer  her 
religious  observances ;  cynically,  how- 
ever, her  practice  of  having  a  Mass 
said  for  the  dead  on  the  first  Friday  of 
every  month.  Hence  their  ribaldry, 
when  they  heard  that  a  crone  had 
taunted,  "Mais  oui,  the  rest  of  the 
month  she  has  Alasses  said  for  her 
liberators." 

Ignoring  the  whisperings,  ]Madame 
held  her  chin  high  and  continued  to 
promenade  along  the  quai  on  the  Col- 
onel's arm,  vivaciously  dallying  with  his 
compliments.  But  one  afternoon  she  was 
sorely  distressed  by  the  spreading  fire 
of  resentment  against  her. 

Lashed  by  an  east  wind,  the  rising 
tide  pounding  the  sea  wall  was  rocket- 


ing and  splashing  in  spoondrift ;  and  as 
they  neared  a  gamin  watching  the  spec- 
tacle he  deliberately  jumped  into  a 
brackish  puddle  and  spattered  them. 

Outraged,  the  Colonel  collared  the 
boy  and  raised  his  fist;  but  Madame 
caught  his  arm.  "Please,  Colonel,  we 
must  win  them."  Such  were  then  the 
German  high  commands ;  and  the 
Junker,  gritting  his  teeth,  strode  on 
while  ]\Iadame,  unnoticed,  dropped  a 
franc  note  behind  her. 

As  a  reward  perhaps  for  his  com- 
pliance, Aladame  planned  a  surprise 
dinner  for  the  Colonel's  birthday,  her 
table  being  well  provisioned  from  the 
German  commissariat.  She  herself 
would  furnish  the  wine  from  her  cellar. 

Of  course  the  Colonel  learned  about 
the  party,  but  as  he  escorted  her  into 
the  dining  room  on  that  memorable 
night  he  pinched  her  arm  and  feigned 
surprise.  "Madame!  Epatant  I"  He  liked 
to  show  off  his  French  and  flatter  her. 
"Topping,    as   the   Bulls    say." 

Drawing  out  her  chair,  he  bowed, 
and  strutting  to  the  head  of  the  candle- 
lighted  table,  his  staff  deferentially 
waiting,  he  raised  his  wineglass  and 
oft'ered  a  toast.  "^^ladame !"  That  was 
enough,  and  the  expression  in  his  bug 
eyes. 

The  iron  shutters  outside  the  win- 
dows were  tightly  closed  and  tHe  rose 
velours  curtains  inside  were  drawn ;  but 
a  sentry  could  be  heard  patrolling  the 
sea  wall.  Still,  the  gloom  and  tension 
without  could  not  dampen  the  glow  and 
gayety  within,  for  Madame  could  tell  a 
story  to  make  men  laugh  and  forget. 

To  humor  her  the  Colonel's  adjutant 
had  granted  permission  for  Pierre  to  be 
their  only  waiter.  He  had  just  served 
dessert,  rum  babas,  made  by  the  hostess, 
when  Madame  cried  above  a  roar  of 
tipsy  laughter,  "Alessieurs,  like  us 
French   3^ou    are    gourmets.    Voila,    an- 


Number  11 


MADAME  ENTERTAINS 


Other  surprise,  Veuve  Clicquot !  Special 
sec !"  and  she  rose. 

Shuffling  to  their  feet  the  officers 
gripped  the  backs  of  their  chairs,  each 
hoping  to  accompany  her.  But  she 
laughed,  "No  gentlemen,  sit  down, 
please.  Nobody  must  come.  Impossible!" 
and  blowing  a  kiss  she  darted  out. 

In  the  hall  Pierre  handed  her  a 
flashlight  and  opened  the  cellar  door. 
When  she  had  descended  he  closed  it 
and  stood  guard. 

Flashing  the  light  and  brushing  away 
a  cobweb  she  tiptoed  across  the  sodden 
earth  to  a  wine  rack,  drew  out  a  mag- 
num of  champagne,  and  placed  it  to  one 
side.  Fingering  along  the  shelf  she 
pressed  a  button.  Slowly  the  wine  rack 
revolved  until  the  front  rested  against 
the  seeping  foundation,  disclosing  a 
sheet-iron  door.  Lifting  its  latch  she 
pulled  the  door  open.  A  gust  of  fetid 
air  assailed  her  and  she  shivered. 

Flashing  the  light,  she  unbound  a 
rope  passed  through  a  pulley  above  and 
coiled  around  a  cleat,  thus  letting  a  lad- 
der drop  into  the  sub-cellar.  Pulling  the 
rope  through  the  sheave,  she  threw  it 
into  the  smugglers'  passageway  lead- 
ing to  a  trap  door  in  the  rocks  beyond 
the  sea  wall.  Picking  up  the  magnum 
without  shutting  the  iron  door  she 
hurried  up  the  stairs. 

As  she  swept  into  the  dining  room 
flourishing  the  bottle  the  Germans, 
braying  the  "Horst  Wessel,"  left  off  to 
lurch  to  their  feet  with  burping  heils. 
A  cork  popped ;  the  wine  was  poured ; 
and  the  Colonel,  flushed  but  stiff,  raised 
his  glass  of  bubbling  topa:^.  "Der 
Fuhrer!" 

"Der  Fuhrer!"  Crystals  clicked  to 
the  chorus,  but  Madame  did  not  join  in. 
The  Colonel,  swelling,  fumed,  "What 
is?"  Then  Madame  did  something  more 
astounding ;  she  placed  her  wine  un- 
touched   on    the    table.    Eyes    popping, 


Foaming    at    the    mouth,    the    colonel   flung   out 
his  arm.  A  spy! 


the  Jerrys  gaped,  slapping  down,  their 
glasses  and  splashing  the  cloth.  A  spy! 
Foaming  at  the  mouth,  the  Colonel 
flung  out  his  arm.  Madame  knew  what 
that  gesture  meant — arrest!  Trembling, 
she  tossed  up  her  head  and  uttered  a 
cry,  almost  a  cheer. 

The  street  door  was  banging  open, 
and  a  Boche  sentry,  bayonet  charged, 
was  rushing  in  and  shouting,  "The 
Commandos  !"  Dashing  out,  he  pitched 
headlong  down  the  stone  steps  in  a  hail 
of  bullets.  In  a  flash  Pierre  slammed  the 
door  shut.  The  toast  to  the  Fuhrer  was 
never  drunk ! 

Seizing  their  Lugers  from  a  side- 
board the  supermen  turned  to  the 
Colonel.  He  was  already  fumbling  to 
open  the  iron  shutters  to  snipe,  but 
Madame  caught  his  arm.  Flinging  her 
off  he  snarled  "Swine!" 

She  clung  to  him.  "They  will  break 
in  and  kill  us  all !  It  is  suicide !  The 
smugglers'  tunnel  is  safe.  You  have 
heard  of  it.  Its  exit !  They  have  beached 
their  landing  boats  there.  There  you  can 
trap  them!  Please,  my  Colonel,  come!" 

"Ja,  Colonel,"  ths  adjutant  inter- 
jected. "That  is  so." 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


Savage  shouts  reverberated  with  the 
onrush  of  stamping  feet,  the  din  of 
cannon,  rattling  the  iron  shutters,  the 
chattering  of  machine  guns,  the  shriek- 
ing of  dive  bombers  and  the  throbbing 
ack-ack  of  flak. 

The  Colonel  gripped  Madame's  arm, 
plumbed  her  eyes  a  moment.  Then, 
brushing  her  aside,  he  commanded, 
■"Show  the  way."  Taking  the  flashlight 
irom  Pierre  she  fluttered  down  the 
^cellar  stairs  wath  the  demigods  dogging 
her  steps.  Flashing  the  light  into  the 
tunnel  entrance  she  pointed,  "Down 
there!  Deliverance!" 

Snatching  the  flashlight  from  her  the 
Colonel  thrust  it  on  his  adjutant  who, 
understanding,  backed  down  the  ladder. 
After  a  tense  minute  he  bawled,  "Ja, 
Colonel,  I  can  see  the  door  already." 

The  Colonel  motioned  to  his  sub- 
ordinates, who  climbed  backwards  down 
the  ladder.  Madame  counted  them — 
one,  two,  five;  but  their  superior  still 
waited,  and  she  urged,  "Vlte,  mon  ami ! 
Quick!" 

Somewhere  a  bomb  exploded,  shaking 
the  house;  somewhere  mortar  fell  with 
a  thud  on  the  cellar  floor.  Impulsively 
the  Colonel  caught  her  in  his  arms,  but 
she  pushed  him  away.  "Schnell!  Quick!" 

He  backed  down  the  ladder,  his  face 
cadaverous,  his  eyes  lecherous  in  the 
ghastly  light.  He  reached  up  his  hand. 
"Come!"  She  shrank  back — a  death's 
head — slammed  the  door  shut,  shot  the 
bolt.   Pressing  the  button,  she  watched 


the  wine-rack  swing  into  place,  con- 
cealing the  direful  sheet-iron  door. 

A  flagstone  with  ah  iron  ring  in  a 
groove  was  imbedded  in  the  clay.  She 
pulled  the  ring.  An  iron  chain  came 
out  and  when  it  held  she  secured  the 
ring  on  a  hook.  She  listened.  Then 
above  her  heavy  breathing  she  heard 
the  swish  of  rushing  water.  She  had 
opened  a  valve  of  a  sluice.  The  sea  was 
cascading  into  the  smugglers'  tunnel ! 

Upstairs  Pierre  kissed  her  hands  and 
led  her  away.  The  street  door  was 
standing  open.  From  behind  it  a  man 
caught  her.  His  face  and  hands  -  were 
blackened,  his  coveralls  camouflaged. 
Terrified,  she  screamed. 

"Mother!  Don't  you  know  me?" 

She  threw  her  arms  around  him. 
"Fernand !  Mon  fis  !" 

"Where  are  they?" 

She  rested  her  forehead  against  his 
chest.  "In  the  smugglers'  tunnel." 

He  thrust  her  away.  "You  let  them 
escape  1" 

She  clasped  her  hands.  "The  trap 
door,  mon  fis,  has  been  walled  up  for 
months  now." 

He  hugged  her.  "A  true  maquis !" 
Then  he  was  rushing  out  to  join  the 
Commandos  and  shouting,  "So  with  all 
tyrants  1" 

"Qui !"  A  gust  of  wind  blew  out  the 
candles  sputtering  on  the  dining  room 
table.  Sinking  into  a  chair,  she  crossed 
herself.  "Oui,  tomorrow  I  must  have  a 
Mass  said." 


"The  world  is  divided  into  people  who  do  things  and  people  who  get  the  credit. 
Try,  if  you  can,  to  belong  to  the  first  group.  There's  less  competition." 

— Dzvight   W.   Morrow 


KMm 


^1    f^U^^Bd^H^^P^^P 


Before  America  entered  the  recent 
war  an  article  appeared  in  a  British 
magazine  which  purported  to  show  the 
origin  of  a  pecuHar  mania  which  even- 
tually came  to  be  known  as  "Kilroy 
was  here!"  The  British  article  carried 
a  sketch  of  an  insidious-looking  char- 
acter peering  over  the  top  of  a  wire, 
with  only  his  eyes  and  nose  showing, 
and  his  fingers  gripping  the  wire.  The 
caption  with  the  drawing  read,  "Chad 
was  here!" 

The  article  then  tried  to  trace  the 
origiiji  of  this  strange  diversion.  It 
suggested  that  Chad  was  a  wireless 
telegrapher  or  radio  engineer  on  board 
an  American  or  British  merchant  ves- 
sel. All  the  original  details  of  the  sketch 
were  shown  as  symbols  for  induction, 
resistance,  capacity,  cycles,  etc.,  that 
are  used  by  radio  men  aboard  merchant 
ships.  The  hands  were  symbols  of  re- 
sistance, and  although  the  other  symbols 
were  universally  known,  most  of  them 
are  used  exclusively  by  the  British 
merchant  fleet  and  not  the  American. 


It  is  probable  that  the  American 
"Kilroy  was  here !"  sprung  from  this 
novel  method  used  by  a  merchant  seaman 
to  tell  his  friends  the  ships  he  had  been 
aboard.  Possibly  his  name  was  Chad 
Kilroy,  and  if  this  is  the  case,  then 
"Chad  was  here!"  is  the  father  of  that 
deep  mystery,  which  has  been  the  source 
of  so  much  conjecture:  Who  started 
"Kilroy  was  here!"? 

Whether  or  not  Chad  was  the  pro- 
genitor of  "Kilroy  was  here!"  is  a 
matter  of  speculation.  However,  there 
is  no  doubt  that  Kilroy  was  a  figure  in 
early  American  history,  for  the  records 
of  his  debut  go  back  to  March  5,  1770. 

On  that  night  the  bloody  Boston 
Massacre,  an  event  which  ranks  in 
American  history  with  the  Boston  Tea 
Party  and  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill, 
took  place  in  Boston,  Massachusetts. 
It  was  this  Massacre  which,  more  than 
any  other  injustice,  incited  the  colonists' 
hatred  for  England  and  made  strife 
inevitable. 

On  the  night  of  March  5,   1770,  the 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


citizens  of  Boston  assembled  to  protest 
the  quartering  of  British  troops  upon 
an  unwilling  populace.  Some  British 
redcoats  fired  on  the  demonstrators, 
killing  five  of  the  civilians.  One  of  the 
soldiers  who  fired  on  the  helpless  citizens 
was  identified  at  the  trial  a.  few  days 
later  as  Pvt.  Kilroy.  A  witness  on  the 
stand  uttered  a  phrase  which,  slightly 
modified,  has  come  echoing  down  the 
centuries,  "Kilroy  was  there !  I  saw 
him !" 

The  records  of  the  trial  and  the  his- 


toric statement 
are  still  in  the 
possession  of  the 
British  Museum. 
Of  all  the  mani- 
fold theories  con- 
cerning the  origin 
of  Kilroy,  this 
one  is  undoubt- 
edly the  most  au- 
thentic, as  it  has 
been  duly  sworn 
to  and  legally  registered  in  a  court  of  law. 


Bound  Volumes 

For  those  of  you  who  wish  to  keep  a  file  of  The  Link  in  neat,  compact  form,  the 
twelve  issues  of  1947  have  been  bound  in  red.  This  volume  ma}'-  be  secured  by  sending 
$2.00  to : 

The  Link 

122  Maryand  Avenue,  N.  E. 

Washington  2,  D.  C. 


''-^  ROM  the  shores  of  Montezuma  to  the  halls  of  Tripoli"  the  United 
States  Marines  have  been  fighting  their  country's  battles  "on  the  land  and 
on  the  sea"  for  upwards  of  a  century  and  a  half.  On  Novennber  10,  1775, 
the  Corps  came  into  official  existence  and  has  been  functioning  almost 
ever  since.  For  this  anniversary  month  of  1948  one  of  our  artists,  Bob 
Means  (who  is  a  "graduate"  of  the  Corps  himself)  ,  has  done  some  re- 
search and  drawn  us  a  special  cover  showing  the  present-day  Marine  and 
his  Revolutionary  forebear — in  his  official   uniform.   Shades  of  John   Paul 


LIKK  LIKES 


By  The  Editor 


'X'HE  American  Cemetery  at  Caronia 
on  that  bit  of  the  earth  our  geography 
teacher  said  was  like  a  football  at  the 
toe  of  Italy,  is  one  of  many — too  many 
— in  which  we  have  laid  to  rest  our 
beloved  comrades.  We  chose  the  pic- 
ture for  the  back  cover,  at  the  same 
time  remembering  how  it  looked  as  a 
green  pasture  in  the  early  days  of  the 
Sicilian  campaign.  Like  you  who  read 
this,  we  want  to  take  some  time,  es- 
pecially this  month,  for  reflection  upon 
the  noble  deeds  and  supreme  sacrifices 
made  by  these  comrades.  From  all  the 
services,  Army,  Navy,  Air  Force,  Coast 
Guard  and  others,  men  joined  to  form 
one  team.  Even  though  Will  Rogers 
said  once  that  Uncle  Sam  had  ne;/er 
lost  a  war  nor  won  a  conference,  we 
knew  there  was  a  dififiicult  game  to  play 
and  victory,  if  it  could  be  had  at  all, 
appeared  far  off.  It  proved  to  be  two 
full    years    away. 

We  remember  a  jam  session  under  the 
trees  one  evening — the  guitar,  the  ac- 
cordion, the  chaplain's  folding  organ 
and  a  horn  or  two,  together  with  the 
peppy  singing  of  the  crowd  that 
gathered.  That  was  the  last  such  happy 
experience  for  some  of  the  members 
of  the  instrumental  group  as  well  as 
for   the   singers. 

Then  there  was  the  young  corporal 
from  North  Dakota,  or  perhaps  it  was 
South  Dakota,  who  wrote  wishing  his 
mother  a  happy  birthday.  He  expressed 
regret  that  under  existing  conditions 
he  could  not  send  her  a  gift.  He  assured 
her  that  he  would  make  up  for  it  later. 


But  the  next  day,  even  before  the  letter, 
had  been  mailed,   it   was   too  late.   He       ! 
would  never  celebrate  another  birthday       | 
for  his  mother.  Nor  could  his  comrades 
who  mailed  the  letter  put  a  postscript 
in   it.    Security   reasons ! 

We  remember  the  church  service 
which  was  also  the  last  for  several  who 
attended. 

Some  who  read  this  may  be  too  young 
to  be  much  concerned  about  it  all,  but 
others  of  us  who  are  concerned  with  it 
are  not  exactly  old  by  the  calendar.  It 
is  of  concern  to  us  because  we  do  not 
want  to  see  foolish  mistakes  repeated. 
There  are  times  when  we  appear  to  learn 
amazingly    little   by   experience. 

We  all  want  peace,  particularly  those 
who  have  had  experience  with  battle, 
hunger,  thirst  and  illnesg  because  of 
conflict.  But  peace  is  not  something  we 
can  get  by  resting  on  our  oars.  It  is 
not  within  the  destiny  of  human  beings 
to  become  so  secure  that  there  no  longer 
is  any  necessity  for  effort  or  struggle. 
Such  a  condition  would  be  physically 
and  morally  unhealthful  if  it  could  be 
achieved — which   it   cannot. 

Another  way  to  achieve  a  certain 
kind  of  peace  is  to  allow  lawless  elements 
their  sway  and  neither  resist,  conquer 
nor  destroy  them.  Lawless  elements 
never  fail  to  oppress  and  endanger  the 
law-abiding  citizen.  We  believe  that 
righteousness  is  worth  a  struggle  and 
that  peace  is  not  achieved  by  draft- 
dodging,  disinterest,  the  unwillingness 
to  fight  and  similar  tactics.  One  must  be 
up  and  doing  the  constructive  tasks  at 
hand;  they  will  not  do  themselves.  One 
must  vigorously  oppose  the  forces  of 
destruction. 

A  difficulty  in  America  is  that  in  many 

respects  we  have  had  things  so  easy  we 

only  half  believe  a  lot  of  things.  Some 

say    we    should    root    out    communism, 

(Continued  on  page  20) 

9 


PEOPLE  said  Steve 
Thomson  made  a  poor  Ma- 
rine. Why  they  said  it  I 
don't  know.  Perhaps  be- 
cause he  disliked  kilHng 
Japs.  During  the  war  there 
were  lots  of  guys  like 
Steve. 

Steve  was  a  good  kid.  I 
know  because  I  served 
with  him.  He  was  tall  and 
thin,  weighing  no  more 
than  130  or  140  pounds 
wringing  wet.  He  was  in 
the  medics,  and  before  the 
war  was  over  he  was  one 
of  the  guys  who  went  up 
to  the  very  mouths  of  Jap 
caves  and  with  just  a 
loudspeaker  system  coaxed 
the  sons  of  Nippon  to  give 
up. 

No  one  believed  that 
Steve  could  do  any  good 
by  talking  to  Japs,  but  be- 
lieve it  or  not,  he  brought 
in  more  prisoners  than 
anyone  else  in  the  outfit. 
And  without  violence, 
either. 

One  day  I  remember 
Steve's  telhng  me  in  a 
husky  voice,  "Marks,  may- 
be you  think  Pm  a  coward. 
A  lot  of  guys  think  I  am. 
But  I  just  don't  believe  in 
violence  when  a  little  bit  of 
common  sense  can  do  just 
as  much  good.  I  can't 
change  my  ways." 

I  used  to  tell  him  gently, 
"Don't  let  it  get  you  down, 
kid.  You've  got  plenty  of 
guts  for  a  Marine." 

I  know  he  liked  me  tell- 
ing him  this  because  we 
became  very  good  buddies 


1f) 


N  limber  11 


WITHOUT   VIOLENCE 


11 


until  the  war  ended  and  we  were  both 
discharged. 

Steve  Hved  in  a  Httle  one-horse  place 
called  ]\Iolloy  County  and  he  gave  me 
the  address.  "Look  me  up  some  day, 
will  you,  Marks?"  he  said  sadly.  I 
promised  I  would. 

I  can  safely  say  that  Steve  didn't  have 
too  many  friends  when  he  left  the 
Marines.  The  rest  of  the  men  couldn't 
understand  him.  He  came  in  the  service 
that    way    and   he    left    the    same   way. 

Well,  you  know  the  way  it  is  when  a 
guy  becomes  a  civilian.  There  are  certain 
things  to  look  after,  such  as  getting  a 
job.  So  in  the  next  few  months  I  lost 
sight  of  Steve.  My  uncle  offered  me 
a  job  helping  him  in  his  contracting 
work.  He  was  interested  in  building 
houses  for  veterans  and  was  looking 
for  a  likely  spot  to  buy  land.  That's 
when  I  thought  of  Steve. 

I  remembered  that  Steve  once  told 
me  that  Molloy  County  was  a  natural 
for  this  purpose.  So  when  my  uncle 
offered  me  a  big  bonus  if  I  secured  the 
land  I  immediately  wired  Steve.  In  a 
few  hours  I  received  his  reply  to  "come 
on  down." 

I  took  the  next  train  for  Molloy 
County  and  wondered  how  it  would  feel 
to  see  Steve  again.  I  knew  he  was 
married  now.  Would  he  be  changed 
much?  Or  was  he  still  the  same  shy, 
bashful   dreamer  he   had   always   been? 

I  must  have  dozed  ofif,  for  when  I 
awoke  the  conductor  was  shouting, 
"Molloy  County !" 

There  weren't  many  people  getting 
off  at  Molloy  County,  I  can  tell  you 
that.  Even  through  the  train  window 
I  could  see  that  it  looked  bleak  and 
barren.  Another  Okinawa,  I  thought, 
wondering  how  Steve  could  feel  so 
strongly  for  this  bit  of  country. 

When  I  stepped  from  the  train  there 
was    Steve    standing   beside    a    battered 


"Look  me  up  some 
day,  will  you,  Marks?" 
he  said  sadly. 


old  coupe,  wav- 
ing his  hand  tim- 
idly. The  same  old 
Steve,  I  thought 
as  I  started  to- 
ward him. 

We  slapped 
each  other  on  the 
back  and  called 
each  other  affec- 
tionate names  the 
way  Gyrenes  will 
when  they  get  to- 
gether. Then  we  got  in  his  car. 

For  a  while  I  just  stared  out  of  the 
window,  neither  of  us  saying  anything. 
After  a  while  we  hit  the  small  town. 
And  right  away  I  knew  something  was 
up. 

A  large  streamer  stretched  from  a 
window  across  the  main  street  to  the 
other  side,  and  the  streamer  read, 
"Steve  Thomson  for  Mayor." 

I  turned  to  look  at  Steve.  He  was 
staring  straight  ahead,  his  knuckles 
gripping  the  wheel  so  tight  I  knew  he 
was  under  some  strain. 

"What's  the  idea  holding  out  on  me?" 
I  said.  "Steve,  you're  running  for  may- 
or." 

"I  know  it,  Marks,"  he  said  quietly. 
Suddenly  pulling  up  on  a  side  street,  he 
stopped  the  car.  Tie  stared  at  me.  Then 
he  grabbed  my  hand  and  whispered, 
"Marks,  I  can't  go  through  with  this. 
The  people  are  crazy.  They  think  I  can 
do  things  for  them.  They're  wrong.  I'm 
a  weakling.  You  know  that." 

"You're  crazy,  Steve,"  I  said  strongly. 
"Maybe  you're  just  what  this  one-horse 
town  needs." 

He  shook  his  head  and  frowned.  Then 
he  sighed  deeply.  "I  wish  you  were  right, 
Marks.  But  how  do  I  know  I've  got  the 
courage  and  strength  for  a  job  like 
they're  wishing  on  me?  Even  if  I  should 
win,  that  is." 


12 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


I  tried  arguing  with  him,  but  the 
more  I  argued  the  more  upset  he  be- 
came. His  small,  thin  face  took  on  a 
look  of  such  misery  that  I  felt  almost 
sorry  for  him.  I  couldn't  convince  him 
he  was  wrong.  They  wanted  new  blood 
and  because  he  had  been  a  Marine  the 
people  had  put  him  up  for  mayor. 

"But  they  don't  know  me — the  real 
me— ^larks,"  he  said.  "I  might  let  them 
down." 

We  argued  all  the  way  home.  Once 
home,  we  stopped  arguing.  He  intro- 
duced me  to  his  wife,  Helen,  who  seemed 
just  right  for  Steve,  being  a  quiet, 
gentle,  dark-haired  little  woman.  She 
was  also  very  understanding,  for  after 
supper  she  said  with  a  smile,  "Well,  I'll 
leave  you  two  former  ]Marines  to  talk 
over  the  old  days." 

I  was  grateful  for  that.  Alone,  Steve 
called  m.e  over  to  his  closet  and  showed 
me  his  uniform,   still  well-kept. 

"Maybe  I  didn't  do  right  by  it,  Marks," 
he  said,  v.-etting  his  lips,  "but  it's  still 
mine." 

"Sure,  Steve,  sure,"  I  said. 
This  soft-hearted  lug  bothered  me. 
He  was  such  a  simple  guy.  He  couldn't 
get  it  out  of  his  head  that  just  because 
he  wasn't  a  brute  he  couldn't  be  a  good 
mayor. 

We  talked  for  a  15hg  while  and  I 
told  him  my  plans  for  a  housing  proj- 
ect. His  eyes  lit  up.  'Tf  I  were  mayor," 
he  said,  "I'd  sure  let  you  build  those 
houses.  This  is  a  young  town.  Plenty 
of  vets  here  doubUng  up  with  their  folks. 
You're  just  what  they  need.  But— I'm 
afraid  you've  come  for  nothing." 

"You're  the  next  mayor,  Steve,"  I 
said  encouragingly.  "I  know  it.  And 
forget  that  nonsense  about  not  being 
a  man.  Some  day  the  proof  will  be  there 
for  you." 

After  a  while  we  must  have  dozed  off 
in  our  chairs.  I  dreamed  of  Steve  and 


me,  killing  Japs  .  .  .  Steve  behind  a 
machine  gun,  a  ferocious  look  in  his 
eyes,  squeezing  the  trigger  and  shouting, 
"Come  on,  you  bums,  I'll  kill  you  all!" 
And  there  I  was  beside  him  helping  him 
load  the  machine  gun  as  I  screamed, 
"Go  get  'em,  Steve !" 

A  terrible  dream.  I  finally  tore  my- 
self awake.  Steve  was  still  asleep.  Some- 
one was  hammering  on  the  door. 

Steve  opened  one  eye  and  looked  at 
me.   "The  door,"   I   muttered. 

Helen  had  already  come  down  the 
stairs,  a  bathrobe  over  her.  She  opened 
the  door  and  heard  a  breathless  voice, 
"Sorry  to  bother  you  like  this,  Mrs. 
Thomson,  but  there's  been  a  jail  break!" 
"Good  heavens!  Come  in!" 
The  men  trouped  in.  The  good  people 
of  IMolloy  County.  Steve  was  scared,  I 
could  see  that. 

"We  haven't  got  much  time,"  the 
spokeman  said  quickly.  "That  rat  Somers 
just  broke  out  and  wounded  the  guard. 
He's  headed  for  Summit  Ridge.  By 
daybreak,  he'll  be  gone.  The  state  troop- 
ers are  on  their  way  and  the  whole 
town's  on  the  alert.  A\>  thought  you 
might  like  to  come  with  us  in  case 
you're  needed." 

That's  a  small  town  for  you.  Every- 
one pitches  in  to  help.  Steve  looked 
startled.  Then  he  flushed.  Then  he 
winced.  The  test,  I  thought  to  myself. 
This  is  it.  Steve  knows  it  and  I  know 
it. 

Steve  said  quietly,  "Wait  here."  He 
went  up  the  stairs  and  when  he  came 
down  he  was  wearing  a  coat  and  hat. 
"Come  on,"  he  said  to  the  men,  "I'll  do 
what  I  can." 

He  turned  to  Helen  and  kissed  her. 
"We'll  be  back  soon,  honey,"  he  told 
her. 

"Be  careful,  Steve,"  she  said  fearfully. 

"I'm  going  with  3^ou,"  I   said. 

We  left  quickly.  Outside  stood  a  large 


Number  11 


WITHOUT  VIOLENCE 


13 


sound  truck,  the  kind  they  use  for  elec- 
tion purposes.  We  piled  in  and  headed 
for  the  mountain  where  this  killer 
Somers  was  holed  up. 

Of  course,  when  we  got  there  the 
state  troopers  had  the  situation  in  hand. 
There  was  a  large  crowd  of  the  town- 
folk  out  this  night,  too,  and  they  were 
held  back  by  the  troopers.  A  large 
searchlight  played  on  the  mountain  at 
the  spot  where  Somers  was  holed  in 
and  the  troopers  were  firing  at  it,  but 
somehow  they  weren't  getting  anywhere. 

We  all  got  as  close  to  the  action  as 
we  could  with  the  troopers  shouting  for 
us  to  clear  out  in  a  hurry. 

Finally  two  wounded  troopers  made 
their  way  back  from  the  danger  zone. 
The  captain  of  the  troopers  started 
cursing,  "I'll  be  damned  if  I'm  going 
to  have  any  more  of  my  men  wounded 
just  because  the  people  of  Molloy  County 
can't  keep  their  criminafs  in  jail.  Comes 
morning,  we're  going  to  get  permission 
to  fly  a  plane  over  and  throw  a  few 
bombs  down  on  Somers'  hideout.  Then 
we'll  see  how  long  he  can  last." 

It  was  then  that  Steve  spoke  up. 
"Send  a  plane  over  and  you'll  ruin  our 
mountain  and  scare  the  daylights  out 
of  our  people.  We  don't  want  that  here." 

"Oh,  you  don't?  And  who  are  you  to 
tell  us  what  to  do?"  The  trooper  glared 
at  Steve.  "Now  come  on,  all  of  you. 
Clear   out   of  here,    or — " 

"Look,"  Steve  said  quietly.  "There 
are  two  ways  to  get  that  man  to  come 
down.  One  is  by  shooting  him  out  of 
there.  The  other  way  is  by  reasoning 
with  him.  I  am  sure  he'll  listen  to  a 
good  argument." 

"Yeh?  I  suppose  you  think  you  can 
give  him  one?" 

"I  can  try.  Look,  we've  got  a  sound 
truck  here,  with  a  mike.  Let  me  try 
to  get  to  him  and  I'll  make  him  come 
out.    Give  me  this   chance   at   my   own 


risk.  I  know  Somers.  I'd  hate  to  see 
him  killed.  I'll  bring  him  down,  I 
guarantee  you   that!" 

Maybe  it  was  the  way  Steve  said  it. 
No  one  would  have  ventured  such  a 
crazy  stunt  with  a  dangerous  killer 
holed  up  in  some  remote  spot  on  a 
mountain,  but  they  let  him  do  it,  giving 
him  firearm  protection  as  much  as 
possible. 

He  took  the  mike  with  him  and 
started  up  the  side  of  Summit  Ridge. 
No  one  could  help  him.  We  could  hear 
him  talking  in  a  soft  voice  and  suddenly 
I  thought,  suppose  Steve  doesn't  come 
out  of  this  ?  What  about  his  wife  Helen, 
and  his  plans  as  mayor? 

We  heard  Steve's  voice  and  the  re- 
turning whang  of  Somers'  gun.  Then 
after  a  while  no  more  gunfire,  and  we 
all  figured  Steve  had  gambled  and  lost. 
The  darn  fool,  I  thought  angrily,  to 
have  to  try  to  vindicate  himself  by  such 
a  stunt.  And  the  stupid  troopers  for 
allowing  it  to  happen. 

It  wasn't  until  we  saw  Steve  and 
Somers  coming  down  together  with 
Somers'  hands  in  the  air  and  Steve  be- 
hind him  with  no  weapon  visible,  that 
I  -knew  I  had  witnessed  a  miracle. 

The  next  thing  Steve  did  was  definite- 
ly not  the  way  the  movie  heroes  do  it, 
for  he  fainted  dead  away.  Somers  was 
shackled  and  I  could  hear  him  mutter- 
ing, "I  don't  know  how  he  did  it  to 
me.  That  guy  can  sure  talk.  I  just 
couldn't  shoot  him.  By  morning  I'd  have 
gotten  away,  too.  Well,  it's  over  now." 

The  newspapers  ate  the  stuff  up.  By 
morning  Steve  was  a  hero.  The  papers 
said  that  an  unarmed  ex-Marine  had 
gone  up  a  dangerous  mountain  after  a 
criminal  and  had  captured  him  without 
a  shot  being  fired.  They  dwelt  on  the 
fact  that  he  used  a  mike  through  which 
by  his  very  words  he  had  accomplished 


14                                            THE  LINK  Volume  6 

the  almost  impossible.  Steve  was  brave,  that    helped.    And    then,    of    course,    he 

they  said.  kntw  he  couldn't  last  forever  up  there 

But  all  Steve  had  to  say  was,  "There  on  that  lonely  mountain.  All  you  have 

must  be  some  mistake."  to  do  is  reason  with  a  man,  that's  all." 

"Yeh,  yeh,"  I  said  gently.  And  when  Helen  says  lovingly,  "But 

The  election  was  in  the  bag  after  that.  darling,  what  an  awful  chance  you  took, 

Steve  has  been  mayor  for  almost  two  goi^ig   up   that   mountain   with   just   an 

years  now.  And  true  to  his  word,  he's  ^^^  ^:^^^,,  g^^^^  ^^^^^^  ^^^  five-month- 

built  (with  m.y  uncle's  help)  one  of  the  uii        -i       j      ...i       ,•         j 

.               .                 M,     r    1  o^<^  baby  girl  under  the  chm  and  grms 

sweetest    housmg    projects    you  11    find  .       <,^     r  i      •  -.i    „   ,         5,            «x 

,  agam.     Conndentially,     he  tells  us,     I 
anywhere. 

When  we're  alone  he'll  look  at  me  and  ^"^  ^^^,^  ^  ^"^  °^  "^^  *^^^  "^^^*-  J"'* 

say   shyly,   "Marks,   all   I   did  was   tell  ^"  ^^^^•" 

Somers  I'd  give  him  a  break  if  I  became  But  knowing  Steve  the  way  I  do,  I 

mayor.  Within  reason,  of  course.  Somers  just  don't  believe  it.  For  Steve  is  the 

was  an  old  school  mate  of  mine.  Maybe  type  of  guy  who  just  detests  violence. 


The  next  time  some  wise  guy  starts  bending  your  ear  about  the  terrible  state  of 
the  world  and  insisting  that  nothing  good  came  out  of  the  war — just  a  lot  of  head- 
aches— try  telling  him  this  story. 

It's  about  the  Marine  Corps  Fathers'  Association  of  New  York,  which  was  started 
over  four  years  ago.  Its  membership  is  restricted — to  fathers  of  boys  in  the  Marine 
Corps  who  never  came  back  from  World  War  II.  These  men  got  together  and 
decided  that  if  their  sons,  of  many  ancestries  and  creeds,  could  give  their  lives  to 
wipe  out  racial  and  religious  hatred,  their  fathers  could  do  no  less  than  follow  their 
example  by  carrying  on  a  militant  campaign  against  bigotry. 

But  that  isn't  all.  The  Marine  Fathers  feel  a  paternal  responsibility  toward  all 
ex-Marines,  sons  of  fathers  more  fortunate  than  they,  who  are  back  in  civilian  life 
but  find  themselves  in  a  spot — financially  speaking.  These  vets  may  need  jobs,  or 
clothes  for  the  new  baby,  or  money  to  pay  the  rent.  Well,  the  'Tathers"  come  to 
the  rescue.  They  dig  deep  into  their  pockets  and  shell  out,  without  looking  at  the 
color  of  a  needy  veteran's  face  or  asking  what  church  he  goes  to. 

Typical  of  the  men  who  make  up  this  remarkable  outfit  is  the  secretary,  Harry 
O'Donovan,  who  taught  boxing  to  Theodore  Roosevelt  in  the  White  House.  Mr. 
O'Donovan  is  an  ardent  Roman  Catholic  who  takes  his  Christianity  seriously  and 
gets  all  steamed  up  about  man's  inhumanity  to  man. 

Recently,  the  Marine  Corps  Fathers'  Association  purchased  a  memorial  grove  in 
Palestine,  dedicating  the  trees  to  their  sons  v/ho  lie  buried  under  crosses  and  Stars 
of  David  on  far-flung  battlefields.  Twelve  of  those  trees  are  from  Harry  O'Donovan 
to  the  memory  of  his  beloved  son,  Steve,  who  died  within  the  shadow  of  Mt. 
Suribachi. 

So  long  as  there  are  groups  like  this  one — and  there  are  others — don't  let  anyone 
tell  you  that  nothing  good  came  out  of  the  war. 


A  Fire  for  Thanksgiving 

By  Raymond  Musser 


Along  with  five  million  other  Joes, 
I  was  in  France  in  the  fall  of  '44. 
"Turkey  Day"  came  in  quiet  and  cold,  I 
remember,  and  just  before  the  boys  up 
ahead  got  bumped  backwards  by  the 
Bulge.  There  wasn't  any  need  to  disre- 
gard the  fourth-Thursday-in-November 
tradition,  merely  because  we  were  away 
from  home.  We  didn't. 

Church 

The  Pilgrim  people  who  hatched  up 
the  idea  in  the  first  place  started  off  the 
Day  by  going  to  church.  So  did  we.  The 
Rejormee  pasteur  and  I  worked  out 
what  he  called  a  programme  du  service 
in  two  languages.  I  had  a  mimeographed 
program  made  up  in  two  languages,  the 
lithographed  cover  picturing  a  Pilgrim 
couple  walking  to  church  along  rows  of 
yellow  corn  shocks  with  a  blunderbuss 
over  the  man's  shoulder.  At  the  service 
the  pasteur  explained  the  American 
Thanksgiving  tradition  to  his  people ;  an 
English-speaking  layman  gave  the  wel- 
come; a  French  vocalist  and  an  Ameri- 
can violinist  furnished  the  music ;  our 
General  spoke  to  the  occasion ;  the  lay- 
man summarized  the  General's  remarks 
for  the  French;  and  I  delivered  a  brief 
sermon,  following  it  with  the  benedic- 
tion, the  hymn,  "Faith  of  Our  Fathers" 


and   the   last   stanza   of    "My    Country, 
'Tis  of  Thee." 

Chatter 

By  previous  arrangement  twenty 
French  families  were  prepared  to  take 
forty  GIs  home  to  dinner.  I  drew  a  pair 
of  school  teachers.  The  madame,  a  prin- 
cipal, spoke  English  fluently,  and  I 
learned  much  of  the  nonparochial  school 
system  there.  A  niece  who  was  a  doctor 
was  present;  also  one  of  the  teachers' 
two  young  daughters.  We  chatted 
through  the  madame  of  American  ways 
and  American  life. 

Chow 

The  meal  was  in  six  courses  :  apple 
salad,  tuna  fish  (bought  and  hid  away 
since  '38),  mashed  potatoes  and  bologna, 
cake  and  chocolate  pudding,  fruit,  and 
coffee  {they  called  it  coffee).  'Twasn't 
like  the  turkey  and  trimmings  the  others 
had  at  the  GI  mess,  but  this  was  inter- 
esting in  its  own  way.  The  French  had 
thin  eating  in  those  days,  and,  I  wager, 
many  still  do.  .  ,  . 

Fellowship  Fire 

We  reassembled  at  the  social  hall  of 
the  church  for  tea  (we  furnished  the 
tea  and  sugar;  they  baked  the  cookies). 
I  got  warm  for  the  first  time  since  I'd 


15 


16 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


left  the  billet  that  morning.  The  church 
sanctuary  had  been  fireless,  as  chill  as 
an  ice  house;  there  had  been  only  a 
little  charcoal  fire  in  the  dining  room  of 
my  host  and  hostess ;  but  this  time  each 
Frenchman  had  brought  a  stick  of  wood 
from  his  meager  supply — to  warm  up  the 
fellowship.  We  did  warm  up,  with  the 
fire,  the  hot  tea,  and  the  sociability. 
They  furnished  an  accordionist,  folk 
dancers,  and  a  girls'  quartette;  we  sup- 
plied a  basso  profundo,  a  pianist,  and  a 
barber-shop  quartet.  I  visited  the  Boy 
Scout  room;  listened  to  the  story  of  a 
rugged  maquis  just  escaped  from  the 
Dachau  political  prison;  talked  over  my 
teacup  with  industrialists  and  profes- 
sional men,  with  wives  and  students. 
Four  laymen  officially  offered  me  the 
use  of  their  sanctuary  on  Sundays.  I 
was  forced  to  decline  because  of  the 
distance  involved  between  our  billet  and 
the  church.  Following  formal  thank- 
you's  for  a  lovely  Thanksgiving  Day, 
we  sang  the  two  national  anthems,  and 


with  cheers  of  "Vive  la  France!"  and 
"Vive   I'Amerique!"    the   Day   ended. 

Ths   Fire   Still   Clows 

Now  'tis  '48.  Four  years  have  fled  by, 
and  '44  seems  as  remote  and  as  unreal 
as  a  dream.  Yet  our  cause  for  thanks- 
giving to  God  has  increased,  for  both 
the  Frenchmen  and  Americans,  and  for 
most  other  peoples,  too.  United  States 
and  French  authorities  in  the  western 
Europe  coalition  are  working  together 
in  friendly  fashion.  I  dunno  that  forty 
GIs  could  influence  forty  million  French- 
men much,  but  we  did  our  bit.  .  .  . 

And  I  won't  forget  those  sticks  of 
stove-wood  that  each  Frenchie  brought. 
They  made  the  finest  fire  of  fellowship 
I  ever  felt !  Their  warmth  still  glows  in 
my  memory.  It  was  a  clever  idea.  It 
was  Christian  to  the  core.  I  believe  it 
to  be  a  technique  that  will  fan  the  flame 
of  friendship  throughout  the  United 
Nations ! 


i-'qJn^U-B  Sn£/(S^' 


Plud. 


Battle-starred,  safely  through  the  war  years  we've  come. 
Thanks  be  to  God  for  thus  bringing  us  home; 
Home  from  the  bombs  and  the  shrapnel  and  blast; 
Home  from  the  hell  and  dread  hush — home,  at  last. 

Listen — ^the  Blue  shrieks  no  dangerous  sounds; 
Look  how  the  land  with  fat  plenty  abounds! 
Our  teeming  tables  we  gladly  would  share — 
Thanks  be  to  Cod  that  Americans  CARE! 


Battle-scarred  people  can  hardly  afford 

Baring  their  lands  to  another  war  horde; 

We  simultaneously,  fervently  raise 

Strong  prayers  for  Peace,  v/ith  our  Thanksgiving  Praise. 

— By  Pleasant  Christian 


(^PL.  Don  Avery  rolled  out  of  bed  at 
0530,  beating  reveille  by  half  an  hour. 
He  tiptoed  into  the  latrine,  washed 
hurriedly,  returned  to  his  bunk,  made  it 
up  and  dressed  in  the  dark,  then  dashed 
for  the  mess  hall. 

"How  about  breakfast?"  he  asked  T/5 
Bob  Vandercote,  who  was  busy  brewing 
coffee.  Vandercote  laugfied  derisively. 
"Breakfast  at  this  time?"  he  scoffed. 
"How  do  you  rate  special  privileges? 
I  don't  see  no  brass  on  you." 

"Look,"  pleaded  Avery,  "all  I  want 
is  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  slice  of  bread 
and  jam.  Gee  whiz,  a  guy  has  to  eat 
something." 

"What's  your  hurry?"  demanded  the 
cook.  "Why  don't  you  wait  until  the 
company  chows?  You  know  we  don't 
eat  until  7  o'clock." 


"Yeah,"  grunted  Avery.  "I  know  that. 
But  I  also  know  that  I  have  to  be  over 
to  Personnel  in  a  hurry.  If  I  don't  get 
the  pay  roll  out  today  our  Uncle's  going 
to  neglect  us  this  month." 

Vandercote  snapped  to  attention.  "Pay 
roll!"  he  ejaculated.  "Why  didn't  you 
say   so?" 

Cpl.  Don  almost  scalded  his  tonsils 
with  the  coffee,  but  he  did  manage  to 
down  half  a  cup,  then  took  off  with  a 
slice  of  bread  between  his  teeth.  He 
finished  it  before  he  reached  the  Person- 
nel Office,  then  prepared  himself  for  a 
day  of  diligence. 

First  he  shook  the  sleeping  CO.  until 
he  snapped  him  out  of  his  lethargy, 
then  sent  him  shuffling  dreamily  bar- 
racksward.  Next  he  clicked  on  the  light 
over  his  own  desk,  grabbed  a  stack  of 

17 


18 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


pay'  roll  forms  from  the  supply  box, 
slipped  four  of  them  with  a  trio  of 
carbon  sheets  into  his  type^^riter,  and 
began  banging  away. 

An  hour  later  the  other  company 
clerks  came  strolling  into  the  office. 
"What's  the  early  start  for?"  heckled 
one.   "You  buckin'?" 

"Heck,  no,"  protested  Don.  "All  you 
other  guys  had  a  chance  to  get  your 
pay  rolls  done  yesterday.  I  was  so  busy 
making  out  charge  sheets  on  those  Joes 
in  my  company  who  acted  up  disorderly 
in  town  that  I  didn't  get  any  deeper  in 
my  roll  than  master  sergeants." 

The  other  clerk  clucked  his  tongue 
poisily.  "My  heart  bleeds  for  you,  chum," 
he  heckled. 

Avery  ignored  him  and  continued  with 
the  pay  roll.  He  was  down  to  the  staff 
sergeants  when  Pvt.  Ralph  Legenbass 
shuffled    in. 

Legenbass  was  an  uninspired  Georgia 
cracker.  "Corp,"  he  drawled,  "ah  wanna 
take  out  one  of  them  there  allotments." 
"Can't  you  wait  until  tomorrow?" 
urged  Avery.  "I'm  working  on  the  pay 
roll  now." 

"Corp,"  insisted  Legenbass,  "ah  jes' 
got  off  a  detail  fer  the  express  purpose 
of  takin'  out  an  allotment.  Ah'll  never 
git  off  tomorrow  with  the  same  excuse." 
Avery  sighed.  "Okay,  then.  What  kind 
of   allotment   do   you  want?" 

Legenbass  scratched  his  nose  leisurely 
and  yawned.  He  bit  off  a  slab  of  chew- 
ing tobacco,  stepped  outside  to  expecto- 
rate, then  returned  at  a  Stepin  Fetchit 
pace.  "Vv^hat  kind've  allotments  you-all 
got?" 

Avery  patiently  proceeded  to  describe 
the  various  types  in  detail,  and  Legen- 
bass soberly  mulled  the  matter  over. 
He  used  his  fingers  for  figuring  purposes 
and  mumbled  to  himself,  while  the  clerk 
bit  his  lips  nervously.  Finally,  the  Geor- 
gian decided  upon  a  five-dollar-a-month 


Class  E.  Avery  winced.  "How  far  can 
you  get  on  five  dollars  a  month?"  he 
argued. 

"That's  sixty  dollars  a  year,"  ex- 
plained Legenbass.  "Leastwise  that's  how 
ah  calculate  it,  and  sixty  dollars  is  sixty 
dollars." 

"You've  got  me  there,"  yielded  Avery, 
whereupon  he  submissively  prepared  the 
forms  which  Legenbass  required  only 
ten  minutes  to  sign ! 

Avery  resumed  the  pay  roll  with  a 
vengeance.  He  chain-smoked  fiercely, 
ignored  all  activity  about  him,  and  was 
down  to  technicians,  fourth  grade,  when 
the  sergeant  major  called:  "Avereee ! 
Telephone  for  you !" 

Don  groaned  sonorously  but  answered 
the  phone.  It  was  the  CO.  "Corporal," 
he  barked,  "I've  changed  my  mind  about 
those  charge  sheets  on  Delaney.  I  want 
him  tried  under  a  diff'erent  Article  of 
War." 

"But,  Captain,"  wailed  the  corporal, 
"I'm  working  on  the  pay  roll  today.  I 
have  to  get  it  into  Finance  so  they  can 
start  computing  it  the  first  thing  to- 
morrow morning.  Otherwise  the  men 
don't  get  paid  this  month.  You  know  I 
was  held  up  by  all  those  charge  sheets 
yesterday,  and — " 

"Corporal,"  boomed  the  captain,  "I 
told  you  I  want  the  charge  sheets  on 
Delaney  changed  and  I  want  'em 
changed  now.  You  come  right  over  here 
to  the  orderly  room  and  get  the  infor- 
mation. On  the  double!" 

"Yes  sir,  yes,  Captain.  Right  away, 
sir,"  said  Avery.  He  hung  up  while 
extremely  unpleasant  desires  for  his 
superior  flooded  his  mind. 

By  the  time  he  had  finished  with  the 
CO.  and  the  charge  sheets  it  was  lunch 
tim.e.  Avery  skipped  chow,  settled  for 
a  couple  of  chocolate  bars  in  the  PX, 
and  returned  to  the  pa}^  roll.  He  was 
still    working    on    the    sizeable    list    of 


Number  11 


CORPORAL  AVERY  S  RACKET 


19 


company  T/4's  when  S/Sgt.  Hoseman 
made  his  appearance. 

"Corporal,"  he  announced,  "I  wanna 
raise  my  insurance  a  thousand  bucks. 
Can  you  accommodate  me?" 

"Gee,  Sarge,"  pleaded  Avery,  "can't 
you  wait  until  tomorrow?  My  pay 
roll—" 

"Gosh,  Corporal,"  said  Hoseman,  "I'd 
be  happy  to  wait  until  tomorrow.  Only 
too   happy." 

Avery  sighed  with  relief. 

"But  the  only  trouble  is,  tomorrow 
I  gotta  take  a  couple  of  new  men  out 
to  the  rifle  range  and  I'll  be  gone  all 
day.  You  know  how  it  is." 

Avery  shook  his  head  and  sighed  in 
melancholy.  "Yeah,  Sarge,  I  know  how 
it  is."  He  proceeded  with  the  sergeant's 
insurance,  and  when  the  staff  man  left 
Don  looked  at  his  watch.  "Pete's  sake," 
he  moaned.  "If  I'm  not  bothered  any 
more  I  might  get  through  by  ten  to- 
night." 

He  completed  the  listing  of  T/4s, 
entered  the  accounts  of  the  two  corporals 
(including  himself),  then  lined  up  the 
service  records  of  the  company's  T/5's. 
He  looked  at  the  records  momentarily 
and  scowled.  "Love  of  Mike,  must  be 
more  tomatoes'^  than  privates  in  this 
outfit." 

When  the  first  T/5's  name  was  regis- 
tered, PFC  Blackmoor  strode  up  to  the 
clerk's  desk.  "Corporal,"  he  said,  "I 
wanna  know  if  I  can  stop  my  allotment 
to  my  wife.  The  last  letter  I  got  from 
her  was  a  sassy  one,  and — " 

Avery  managed  to  straighten  Black- 
moor  out  without  having  to  listen  to  the 
complete  chronicle  of  his  married  career. 
He  typed  a  few  more  accounts  onto  the 
roll,  then  Lt.  Woodgill  Hahn  came  in 
to  register  a  complaint.  His  travel  pay 
for  his  last  period  of  detached  service 
was  $1.50  short.  He  knew  it  was  be- 
cause he  had  figured  it  out  to  the  penny. 


and  oh  well,  it  was  $1.50  all  right,  and 
still  it  wasn't  the  $1.50  so  much  as  the 
principle  of  the  thing,  because  after  all, 
even  though  he  was  an  officer,  why 
should  the  Government — ? 

And  then  T/5  Grayson  made  an  ap- 
pearance to  find  out  why  he  hadn't  re- 
ceived his  furlough  ration  money  yet. 
Criminy,  there  were  guys  who  were  on 
furlough  two  weeks  after  he  and  they 
already  had  their  dough,  so  what  was 
holding  him  up — ? 

Pvt.  Goldman  wandered  in  to  find  out 
whether  his  last  tetanus  shot  had  been 
entered  in  the  service  record.  He  once 
had  heard  of  a  guy  whose  shots  weren't 
recorded  in  the  book  so  he  had  to  take 
them  all  over  again,  and  that  wasn't 
going  to  happen  to  this  GI,  so  if  you'd 
just  be  kind  enough  to  look  it  up. 
Corporal — 

M/Sgt.  Allen  made  his  beaming  ap- 
pearance and  laid  a  hundred  simoleons 
in  one  and  two-dollar  bills  on  the  desk. 
He  had  just  won  the  pile  in  a  game  of 
chance,  he  reported,  and  he  wanted  to 
toss  tlic  works  into  Soldiers'  Deposits, 
and  no,  he  absolutely  refused  to  wait 
until  tomorrow  because  he  might  lose 
it  back,  and  anyway,  it  was  the  company 
clerk's  duty  to  accept  money  for  Soldiers' 
Deposits  whenever  it  was  offered  to  him. 
It  said  so  in  AR  something  or  other, 
and — 

Two  privates  came  in  to  settle  an 
argument  as  to  whether  a  T/5  is  actual- 
ly a  noncommissioned  officer,  and  can  he 
really  give  orders  to  a  line  private,  and — 

One  man  wanted  to  know  whether  he 
was  listed  as  a  Methodist  or  Baptist  in 
his  service  record,  while  one  more  came 
to  inquire  about  his  Army  General 
Classification  Test  score,  and  still  an- 
other was  angry  at  the  first  sergeant  so 
he  wanted  a  letter  typed  up  requesting 


*Nickname  for  technicians,  fifth  grade. 


20 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


immediate  transfer  to  another  company, 
or  another  Army ! 

It  was  1800,  and  Avery  was  suffering 
from  hunger  pangs.  He  wasn't  more 
than  halfway  through  the  T/5's  on  the 
pay  roll  with  all  those  privates  first 
class  and  privates  second  class  to  go  yet, 
and  boy,  would  he  be  lucky  to  finish 
that  pay  roll  by  midnight. 

Hunger  overcame  him  and  he  con- 
cluded that  he'd  starve  to  death  if  he 
didn't  appease  himself  with  a  sandwich 
and  a  bottle  of  milk.  His  stomath  empty, 
his  head  spinning,  his  eyes  watery,  his 


throat  tasting  like  dry  ashes,  he  started 
off  for  the  PX. 

When  he  reached  the  street  a  couple 
of  dirty-faced  characters  in  fatigues 
approached  him. 

"Hey  big  shot!"  jeered  one.  "Have 
you  got  the  racket !" 

Avery  pointed  at  himself.  "You  mean 
me?"  he  asked  incredulously. 

"Yeah,  you,"  snorted  the  character. 
"You  pen-pushers,  all  the  time  dressed 
in  OD's,  doing  nothing  all  day  but  filling 
out  forms — and  you  get  a  rating  on  top 
of  it.    My  achin'   back — some  Army!" 


LINK  LINES 

(Continued  from  page  9) 


fascism  and  other  hate  complexes,  which 
indeed  we  should.  But  unless  we  plant 
the  field  with  some  useful  crop  and  then 
cultivate  it  with  care  the  weeds  will 
return  again,  and  maybe  more  thickly. 
Can  it  be  that  America's  faith  has  de- 
cayed to  the  point  where  she  has  no 
constructive  ideologies  which  now  hold 
her  confidence? 

There  are  those  who  sing  the  praises 
of  the  founding  fathers  without  realizing 
the  great  effort  necessary  in  founding 
America — a  nation  probably  unexcelled 
in  opportunities  by  any  other.  But  these 
opportunities  carry  heavy  responsibilities 
also,  one  of  the  greatest  of  which  is  to 
promote   understanding.    To    illustrate: 

Only  today  it  was  necessary  to  remind 
a  comrade,  who  survived,  of  the  Negro 
mess-boy    who    with    the    20-millimeter 


gun  on  his  LCI  (landing  craft,  infantry) 
neutralized  an  enemy  pillbox  on  a 
Sicilian  beach  which  seriously  menaced 
a  number  of  us  after  we  had  reached 
the  shore.  Then,  too,  there  was  the 
Jewish  doctor  who  had  later  saved  the 
life  of  one  of  us. 

Indeed,  Caronia  was  once  a  peaceful 
green  pasture.  It  is  peaceful  again  now. 
We  will  understand  one  another  better 
if  we  pause  to  think  of  the  teamwork 
and  understanding  which  together  ac- 
complished victory.  Further  struggle 
may  be  necessary  to  preserve  these — 
they  are  not  preserved  simply  by  their 
own  excellence.  We  must  think  about 
them,  concentrate  upon  them  and  work 
at  them.  We  lived  together,  we  struggled 
together,  we  died  together  then;  why 
can't  we  work  together  now? 


"If  folks  u'd  get  along  with  each  other  as  peaceable  and  understanding  as  people 
get  along  with  dogs,  the'd  be  a  heap  more  comfort  in  the  world." 

— Clarence  Biidington  Kelland,  in  sunshine 


Journey  Cbrougb  the 
lioly  Cand 


By  James  L.  Harte 


PART 


^^ThE  Ishmaclite  worded  the  battle- 
song  on  his  lips:  On  the  ridge  of  Ephes- 
Dammim  the  heathen  giant  stood  like 
a  monolith.  .  .  .'  It  zuas  a  song  of 
glory.  It  was  the  song  of  David  who 
slew  the  giant  Goliath,  zvith  the  help 
of  God  and  a  pebble  from  the  brook." 
Even  then  it  was  a  part  of  the  glory 
of  the  land  that  is  holy,  a  chant  of  the 
ageless  battle  that  Man  might  win  the 
right  to  greet  his  neighbor  with  "Shalom 
Alaychem".  .  .  .  "Peace  be  with  you." 

The  more  than  3,000  years  of  recorded 
history  of  the  Holy  Land  are  replete 
with  the  songs  and  the  tales  of  strife 
and  bloodshed  within  the  endless,  time- 
less search  for  peace.  At  least  twice  the 
desolation  of  the  area  was  so  complete 
that  there  are  gaps  in  the  recorded  his- 
tory. More  than  20  sieges  have  laid  waste 
the  shrines  sacred  to  Christian,  to  Jew 
and  to  Moslem.  But  always  peace  has 
come  again,  and  the  shrines  have  been 
restored,  and  the  pilgrimages  begun 
again  by  Man  with  heart  bright  with 
hope.  Pilgrimages  of  tribute  to  that 
Prince  of  Peace  whose  birthplace  en- 
shrines the  Holy  Land  forever. 

The  United  States  Army  chaplains 
conducted  scenic  tours  of  the  Holy  Land 
for  all  military  personnel  during  the 
late  years  of  World  War  H,  tours  for 
personnel  on  furlough  or  convalescing 
from  illness  or  wounds.  The  tours  were 
so  popular  and  encouraged  so  much  re- 
ligious   interest   that   Jerusalem    stores. 


in  those  years,  were  unable  to  keep  up 
with  the  demand  for  Bibles.  And  re- 
quests of  personnel  to  be  permitted  to  go 
on  such  tours  had  to  be  made  three 
weeks  in  advance  in  order  to  be  fulfilled. 

On  a  yearly  average,  more  than  3,000 
officers,  nurses  and  enlisted  men  made 
the  trek  to  the  Church  of  the  Nativity 
in  Bethlehem,  the  Way  of  the  Cross — 
Christ's  itinerary  from  point  of  con- 
demnation to  Calvary,  the  Tomb  of  Our 
Lady  (Mary,  mother  of  Christ),  David's 
Tower,  the  Temple  of  Omar,  the  Garden 
of  Gethsemane,  Jacob's  Well,  St.  Steph- 
en's Gate  and  other  of  the  various 
gates  and  original  streets  of  Jerusalem, 
the  Pool  of  the  Sultan,  the  Tomb  of 
Rachel  and  the  Tomb  where  Christ  was 
said  to  have  been  laid  after  His  cruci- 
fixion. 

These  are  proud  sights  in  the  ancient 
and  semiarid  land  which  is  linked  more 
closely  than  any  other  with  three  great 
world  religions — Christian,  Hebrew, 
Mohammedan.  And  of  the  land,  it  is 
the  Holy  City  of  Jerusalem  which  first 
we  shall  visit. 

Midway  between  the  Dead  Sea  and 
the  Mediterranean,  Jerusalem  has  been 
called  a  meeting  place  of  the  east  and 
west.  Yet  the  location  alone  is  not  the 
reason  for  the  importance  of  the  city, 
which  originally,  33  centuries  ago,  was 
named  Urn  Salini,  "^City  of  Peace." 
Half  a  mile  above  sea  level  on  the 
watershed  between  the   Arabian   desert 

21 


22 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


and  the  coastal  plain,  the  city  was  es- 
tablished near  ancient  trade  routes.  It 
became  known  as  a  place  of  refuge  for 
travelers. 

About  1400  B.C.  it  existed  as  a 
vassal  of  Egypt.  Among  its  historic 
shrines  today  may  still  be  seen  tablets 
sent  to  the  Pharaoh  from  Jerusalem 
asking  for  aid  against  expected  attack 
from  the  Ishmaelites.  Then,  in  1048 
B.C.,  David,  the  Hebrew  leader,  captured 
the  city.  His  son  Solomon  erected  a 
temple  of  the  Israelites,  and  the  Jewish 
Wailing  Wall  that  stands  today  within 
the  mile-square  ancient  Jerusalem  set- 
tlement is  believed  by  some  historians 
to  be  a  remnant  of  that  Temple  of 
Solomon. 

The  history  of  the  Holy  City  under 
the  followers  of  the  God  of  the  Chris- 
tians, the  birth  and  the  death  of  Christ, 
is  too  well  recorded  in  the  Holy  Book  to 
be  recounted  here.  Yet  the  citadel  was  a 
beleaguered  one  that,  after  its  short 
years  under  the  Israelites,   fell  to  suc- 


St.  Stephen's  Gate,  which  derives  its  name 
from  the  fact  that  St.  Stephen  was  stoned  to 
death  in  the  vicinity.  It  is  part  of  the  fortress- 
like wall,  about  20  feet  high  and  2^^  miles 
long,  which  surrounds  the  old  city  of  Jerusalem. 

(RNS  photo) 


ceeding  waves  of  conquerors  that  in- 
cluded Macedonians,  Romans,  Persians 
and  many  of  the  Moslem  tribes.  Then 
in  A.D.  1099  Christian  crusaders  from 
Europe  stormed  the  city  and  brought 
Latin  rule  that  lasted  until  the  12th 
Century.  The  Mohammedans  then  re- 
gained control  and  maintained  it  until 
1917,  when  Great  Britain  succeeded  in 
ousting  the  Turks  and  establishing  Brit- 
ish mandate  over  all  Palestine. 

The  modern  city  of  Jerusalem  dates 
back  only  to  1858.  In  its  ancient  streets 
where  stand  the  graceful  Mosque  of 
Omar,  one  of  the  three  most  sacred 
spots  in  Moslem  religion,  and  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  most  holy  to  the 
Christian  religion,  there  exists  a  time- 
lessness  that  is  lost  as  the  city  spreads 
in  all  directions  across  the  hills  and 
valleys  of  Biblical  Canaan.  Modern  of- 
fice buildings  on  broad  avenues  com- 
pletely surround  the  narrow  alleys  of  the 
old  section.  The  great  Hebrew  Uni- 
versity, opened  in  1925,  stands  on  the 
slope  of  nearby  Mount  Scopus,  looking 
down  upon  the  land  where  once  walked 
David  and  Solomon  and  Saul  and  Jona- 
than. An  imposing  medical  center  was 
erected  in  1939  and  in  the  same  year  a 
modern  pipe  line  over  40  miles  in  length 
was  laid  to  bring  water  from  distant 
mountain  springs  to  the  arid  capital  of 
the  Holy  Land. 

But  it  is  of  the  old  that  stirs  our 
hearts  and  not  of  the  new.  For  it  is 
the  wonder  of  wonders  that  the  great 
religions,  Judaism,  Christianity  and 
Islam,  were  all  born  here.  That  the 
beliefs  of  almost  all  of  the  human  race 
in  God  and  Man  came  from  this  one 
small  geographic  area.  For  this  Jerusa- 
lem was  the  central  city;  not  a  great 
marketplace,  not  the  seat  of  a  powerful 
military  force,  not  the  capital  of  a  vast 
empire,  but  a  city  that  has  ever  lived 
in  the  hearts  of  man  as  the  foundation 


Number  11 


JOURNEY  THROUGH  THE  HOLY  LAND 


23 


of  our  Western  civilization,  as  the  home 
of  that  Temple  dedicated  to  God.  In 
it  lived  and  taught  Jesus  Christ.  In  it 
lived  and  dreamed  Moses,  David,  Isaiah, 
Solomon,  Jeremiah,  Mark,  Matthew, 
Luke,  John  and  Paul. 

To  the  Holy  City,  thence  to  the 
Christian  world,  from  the  far-off  hill 
called  Mount  Sinai,  came  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments which  we  recognize  as  the 
foundation  of  moral  law.  And  from  the 
city  and  its  ancient  people  came,  too, 
the  prophets  and  the  apostles,  and  the 
Torah  and  the  Old  and  the  New  Testa- 
ments. And  there  came  the  history  that 
is  our  faith,  of  the  Way  of  the  Cross, 
the  Via  Dolorosa,  upon  which  Jesus  trod, 
wearily  bearing  upon  His  back  the 
Roman  cross  upon  which  He  left  His 
blood  and  from  which  He  spoke  His 
last  words :  Eli,  Eli,  lama  Sabachthani 
.  .  .  "My  God,  My  God,  why  hast  Thou 
forsaken    me?" 

These  v^^ere  words  of  supplication  to 
the  everlasting  cause  of  peace  as  was 
the  older  battle-song  of  the  Ishmaelite 
as  he  mouthed :  "On  the  ridge  of  Ephes- 
Dammim  the  heathen  giant  stood  like  a 
monolith."  And  the  same  were  the  words 
of  Halevi  who,  in  the  12th  Century  when 
the  Mohammedans  threatened,  sang : 
"Zion,  zvilt  thou  not  ask  if  peace's  wing 
shadozvs  the  captives  that  ensue  thy 
peace.  .  .  .  Salute  thee:  Peace  and 
Peace  from  every  side." 

Time  was  when  Jerusalem  was  drowsy 
with  peace.  It  was  mellow  and  its  very 
name  of  Urn  Salim  hung  as  a  sleepy 
murmur  on  the  lips.  The  fields  and 
orchards  beyond  it  were  not  over-rich, 
but  they  yielded  a  sufficiency  of  grain 
and  fruit.  The  meadowland  nourished 
flocks  and  herds,  and  the  men  of  Israel 
had  brought  the  vine  into  the  midst  of 
the  city  so  that  there  were  grapes  and 
the  wine  of  grapes.  And  the  benediction 
seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  the  city  from 


The  western  slope  of  the  Mount  of  Olives. 
It  was  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemanc,  a  plot  of 
grotind  on  this  rise,  that  Christ  suffered  His 
agony  and  was  taken  prisoner.  The  tomb  of 
Absalom  is  shown  in  left  foreground,  St. 
Jacob's  Grotto  in  the  center,  and  the  tomb  of 
Zacharias  at  right.    (RNS  photo) 


the  Father  who  might  have  said:  "For 
the  people  have  been  hungry  and  thirsty 
and  weary  after  their  sojourn  in  the 
wilderness,  and  it  is  only  fitting  that 
they  should  eat  and  drink  in  peace." 

We  shall  look  back  into  that  time 
as  we  visit  the  land  of  the  Messiah, 
as  we  move  from  Jacob's  Well  where 
Joseph's  brothers  sold  him  into  slavery, 
through  the  Gate  of  the  Lady  Mary, 
to  journey  along  the  ancient  paths  of 
the  Holy  Land.  And  we  shall  pause  in 
our  journey  to  lift  a  silent  prayer  at  the 
American  military  cemetery  that  joins 
the  world  of  today  with  the  world  of  the 
prophets  in  the  cause  of  peace.  A  ceme- 
tery dedicated  in  1943  as  an  Army 
chaplain  of  Jewish  faith  read  the  in- 
vocation, the  ground  was  consecrated 
by  a  Franciscan  brother  from  Jerusalem, 
and  the  benediction  was  given  by  a 
Protestant  chaplain.  And  it  seems  fitting 
as  we  begin  our  journey  into  the  Holy 
Land  to  know  that  where  Our  Lord 
lived  and  taught  that  men  should  be 
free,  there  is  a  tiny  patch  of  American 
earth. 


Top  Album  of  the  Month: 

The  Messiah,  Handel — Bibletone  Rec- 
ords. For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of 
the  record  industry,  an  abridged  version 
of  Handel's  great  oratorio  work,  The 
Messiah,  has  been  released  by  Bible- 
tone.  Condensed  to  four  records,  this  v 
Bibletone  album  contains  24  minutes  of 
carefully  selected  recordings  packed 
full  of  the  most  precious  musical  gems 
of  this  oratorio  master-work  .  .  .  with 
full  consideration  for  continuity,  both 
artistic  and  scriptural. 

Performed  by  the  top-ranking  ora- 
torio artists  in  the  United  States  (in- 
cluding the  300  voices  of  the  world- 
famed  Augustana  Choir  of  Rock  Island, 
Illinois  ;  soloists  :  J.  Alden  Edkins,  Lura 
Stover,  Harold  Hough  and  Lydia  Sum- 
mers ;  organists :  Clarence  Snyder  and 
Brynolf  Lundholm;  musical  director: 
Henry  Veld),  this  album  has  been  ac- 
claimed by  all  lovers  of  great  music  as 
the  "finest  of  its  kind." 

The  Bibletone  Messiah  includes  the 
following  well-known  selections :  Com- 
fort Ye  My  People,  Every  Valley  Shall 
Be  Exalted,  Hallelujah  Chorus,  O  Thou 
That  Tellest  Good  Tidings  to  Zion,  The 
Trumpet  Shall  Sound,  recitatives.  Glory 
to  God  in  the  Highest,  I  Know  That 
My  Redeemer  Liveth,  He  Shall  Feed 

2L 


His  Flock,  Come  Unto  Him.  He  Was 
Despised,  and  Surely  He  Hath  Borne 
Our  Griefs.  The  album  is  arranged  so 
that  these  numbers  can  be  played  con- 
tinuously on  a  record  player,  allowing 
uninterrupted  enjoyment  of  this  master- 
work. 

The  album  cover  is  a  beautiful  full- 
color  reproduction  of  Botticelli's  paint- 
ing, "Adoration  of  the  Magi,"  from  the 
National  Gallery  of  Art  in  Washington, 
D.  C.  The  unprecedented  interest  shown 
in  The  Messiah  has  prompted  Bibletone 
to  start  production  on  other  master- 
works  in  abridged  version. 

Dream  Time — Jack  Fina,  MGM 
Album.  Pull  up  that  easy  chair,  turn 
down  the  lights,  and  settle  back  for  a 
half-hour  of  magic  with  music.  It's  time 
for  dreaming,  dreaming  with  the  piano 
music  of  Jack  Fina  and  the  dream  songs 
of  the  past  decade.  Jack's  delicately 
shaded  keyboard  weaving  sets  the  mood 
with  the  beautiful  song  from  the  U-I 
picture,  77/  Be  Yours,  and  as  he  plays 
It's  Dream  Time,  slip  back  through  the 
years  and  reminisce,  for  all  these  songs 
have  memories  both  new  and  old.  Every 
one  will  know  the  nostalgia  of  love  as 
they  listen  to  Girl  of  My  Dreams,  All  I 
Do    Is   Dream   of   You,   and   lovers   of 


today  and  yesterday  must  hold  a  tender 
place  for  the  beautiful  and  haunting 
themes  of  I'll  See  You  in  My  Dreams. 
These  and  many  others  are  all  sensi- 
tively and  beautifully  played  by  the 
modern  master  of  the  keyboard.  There 
are  moments  in  every  week  when  one 
must  take  the  time  for  reflection — for 
sheer  dreaming,  for  weaving  the  roman- 
tic, rose-colored  picture  of  one's  imagi- 
nation. For  such  moments  is  this  album 
meant,  and  in  such  moments  will  you 
delight  in  the  magical,  stardusted  wiz- 
ardry of  Jack  Fina. 

Classics  in  Modern — Frank  DeVol 
and  his  Orchestra,  Capitol  Album. 
Classics  in  Modern  is  a  collection  of 
popular  music  adapted  from  the  classics, 
beautifully  performed  by  Frank  DeVol 
and  his  orchestra.  Not  so  long  ago 
popular  music  fans  were  amazed  to  learn 
that  the  beautiful  Moon  Love  was  actu- 
ally taken  from  the  second  movement  of 
Tschaikowsky's  Fifth  Symphony.  And 
classical  enthusiasts  were  equally  sur- 
prised to  hear  this  familiar  concert 
theme  set  to  tempo  in  a  lovely,  romantic 
song.  Many  classical  compositions  have 
been  set  to  popular  songs  in  this  fashion, 
for  music  that  is  truly  great  possesses 


an  inherent  beauty  and  simplicity  that 
touches  the  hearts  of  everyone,  regard- 
less of  taste  or  temperament.  This  album 
includes  the  best  of  such  music ;  from 
great  composers  like  Rubinstein,  Ravel, 
and  of  course  the  immortal  Tschaikow- 
sky.  In  popular  form,  these  melodies 
were  sung  and  played  by  all  America, 
and  here  Frank  DeVol  has  given  each 
an  exquisite  setting,  played  in  the  tempo 
of  the  popular  interpretations  but  im- 
ploying  a  full  concert  orchestra. 

Three  Dances  From  "The  Three- 
Cornered  Hat,"  de  Falla — Alceo  Galliera 
conducting  The  Philharmonic  Orchestra, 
Columbia.  Alceo  Galliera,  one  of  the 
most  promising  young  Italian  conduc- 
tors, has  directed  London's  Philharmonic 
Orchestra  in  three  dances  from  Manuel 
de  Falla's  enchanting  Spanish  ballet,  The 
Three-Cornered  Hat.  The  work  was 
originally  commissioned  by  Diaghilev 
for  the  Ballet  Russe,  and  had  its  pre- 
miere in  1919  in  London.  The  three 
dances  which  make  up  this  suite  are 
The  Neighbors,  Dance  of  the  Miller  and 
Final  Dance.  All  three  are  marked  by  a 
rhythmic  decisiveness,  a  colorful  sweep 
of  Spanish  folk  melodies  which  fairly 
bring  the  dancers  before  your  eyes. 

25 


Chapter  Three — Conclusion 


Bright  Sayings 

QOING  forward  still  further,  with 
markets  in  mind,  let  us  consider  the 
"Bright  Sayings"  which  are  usually 
adult  remarks  from  the  mouths  of  chil- 
dren. When  published  they  pay  from  $2 
to  $5  each. 

Again  you  are  interested  in  how  to 
get  "Sayings"  ideas.  Well,  we  all  have 
at  some  time  or  other  heard  about  the 
girl  who  ran  after  her  man  until  he 
married  her  or  vice  versa.  I  used  this 
idea  in  the  following  manner : 

"My  little  niece  Shirley  was  racing 
around  the  porch  with  our  neighbor's 
son  close  at  her  heels. 

"Why  are  you  chasing  her?"  I  asked. 

"She  pinched  me,"  he  replied. 

I  turned  to  Shirley.  "Why  did  you 
pinch  him?" 

Blushing  prettily  she  whispered  "So 
he  would  chase  me." 

That  same  idea  can  be  carried  still 
further : 

Five-year  old  Johnny  stumbled  into 
the  house,  battered  and  bruised.  "John- 
ny," I  reproached  him,  "what  have  you 
been  fighting  about  this  time?" 

Hanging  his  head  Johnny  sobbed : 
"It  was  over  a  woman." 

And: 

Bobby,  with  an  eye  on  the  refrigerator 
and  its  container  of  soft  drinks,  rushed 
into  the  house  exclaiming  how  thirsty 
he  was. 

"Here  is  a  glass  of  water,"  I  said. 

Bobby  looked  at  me  and  scowled.  "I 
want  a  drink,  not  a  bath." 

26 


Markets  for  your  Bright  Sayings  arc : 

Bright  Sayings  Editor,  Chicago  Daily  Tribune, 
Chicago  11,  Illinois. 

Bright  Sayings,  The  News,  220  East  42nd  St., 
New  York  17.  N.  Y. 

Young  America,  Magazine  Digest,  20  Spadina 
Road,  Toronto  4,  Canada. 

Filler  Items 

In  the  field  of  filler  items  and  to  con- 
tinue your  original  resolution  of  500 
words  a  day,  it  is  suggested  you  now  use 
a  little  ingenuity  and  write  a  number  of 
yjDur  most  popular  household  hints  and 
recipes.  Mother  can  help  you  with  these. 
Or  perhaps  you  know  of  some  way  of 
cleaning  your  car,  or  repairing  an  awk- 
ward door  jamb  or  any  number  of  short 
cuts  to  labor  saving  in  the  home.  Your 
markets,  which  pay  from  $2  to  $5  for 
each  accepted  item,  are:  Helpful  hints 
for  home  makers,  to : 

Streamliner,  Stella  White,  Sun-Times,  211  W. 
W acker,  Chicago  6,  Illinois. 

Recipe     Contest,     Chicago     Tribune,     Chicago, 

Illinois. 

Favorite   Recipe  Editor,   The   News,    220   East 
42nd  St.,  New  York  17,  N.   Y. 

With  these  submissions,  return  postage 
is  not  required.  Keep  carbon  copies  of 
your  material  and  if  a  check  isn't  re- 
ceived within  two  weeks  submit  your 
entry  elsewhere.  You  can  send  as  many 
as  you  wish,  but  one  at  a  time.  I  have 
sold  to  these  markets  again  and  again. 

Hobby  Articles 

The  above  are  preliminary  steps  to 
start  you  writing  and  perhaps  enable 
you  to  receive  a  few  checks.  Your  first 


Number  11 


WRITING  AS  A   HOBBY 


27 


big  step  forward  toward  feature  writing 
is  the  hobby  article,  my  specialty. 

This  type  of  material  is  comparatively 
easy  to  write,  once  you  learn  the  speci- 
fied method  of  presentation.  But  again 
you  must  study  the  published  material. 
There  are,  however,  no  worries  about 
characterization  or  plot  formulas.  Prac- 
tically all  hobby  articles  demand  some 
research  to  make  them  interesting  and 
informative.  And  again  your  public 
library  is  the  best  source.  Presume  that 
you  are  writing  an  article  on  coins. 
Cram  up  on  a  history  of  coins ;  revise, 
digest  and  condense  your  material.  It 
must  be  understood,  of  course,  that  be- 
fore you  considered  writing  a  coin 
article  you  had  in  mind  a  fresh  approach. 

During  the  war  while  GIs  were  over- 
seas, French  coins  were  made  into 
bracelets,  rings,  earrings  and  necklaces. 
That  was  new  then.  But  now  it  would 
•no  longer  be  acceptable. 

Up  to  this  stage  you  have  noticed 
that  I  did  not  tell  you  in  so  many  words 
HOW  TO  WRITE.  That  you  must 
learn  for  yourself.  No  one  can  show  you 
how  to  write.  But  I  have  given  ex- 
amples, illustrated  ideas,  how-  they  are 
conceived  and  what  markets  exist  for 
them.  This  information  you  will  not  find 
in  any  other  form  of  study. 

HOW  TO  WRITE  can  be  summed 
up  in  three  words— DESIRE  TO 
WRITE.  If  you  have  that  desire,  talent 
and  ability  are  secondary.  And  again  I 
repeat,  study  the  magazines,  read  each 
story  a  dozen  times  or  more.  Cut  it 
down  into  thumbnail  plots  until  you  dis- 
cover for  yourself  just  what  made  it 
click  and  why  it  was  published. 

Try  for  the  smaller  markets  first,  as 
we  emphasized  previously.  Your  com- 
petition will  be  less  difficult.  Now  back 
to  the  hobby  article. 

Practically  everybody  has  a  hobby  of 


some  kind.  If  he  doesn't  he  is  indeed  a 
lonely,   idle  and   boring   individual. 

Hobby  ideas  are  everywhere.  Read 
every  little  item  in  your  newspaper  and 
you  will  find  in  isolated  corners  fillers 
on  hobbies  and  various  collections.  Often 
the  name  and  address  of  the  collector  is 
given.  Write  to  them  and  express  your 
desire  to  write  a  feature  article  on  their 
hobby.  Usually  hobbyists  are  very  co- 
operative. They  love  publicity.  Then 
send  them  a  list  of  questions  on  how 
their  hobby  started,  why,  when  and 
what.  Ask  them  the  value  of  their  hobby, 
how  they  display  it  and  what  benefits 
they  derive  from  it,  Gk)  to  the  library 
and  read  up  on  the  particular  items  they 
collect.  Condense  your  findings  and  use 
the  information  as  quotes  by  the  hob- 
byist. After  completing  your  article 
send  it  to  the  person  you  are  writing 
about  for  editing  and  approval. 


HE'S    WRITING  ON  ftRTICLE  ON 
SILMOUETTES    AS    ft  H0B6Y  - 


28 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


Here  is  how  I  created  a  hobby  feature, 
"Wedding  of  the  Dolls."  I  received  a 
copy  of  my  neighborhood  paper.  In  it 
was  an  item  about  an  elderly  lady  who, 
handicapped  with  a  severe  spine  injury, 
started  collecting  dolls  for  recuperative 
relaxation  upon  the  advice  of  her  phy- 
sician. Her  story  was  illustrated  with 
four  splendid  photographs.  I  visited  the 
lady,  interviewed  her  and  discovered 
that  each  Christmas  she  held  an  open 
house  where  she  displayed  her  doll  col- 
lection to  her  friends.  Her  display  was 
complete  to  a  bridal  party,  maids  in 
waiting,  doll  preacher,  a  little  church 
with  a  music  box  inside.  The  entire 
wedding  procession  was  arranged  under 
a  brilliantly  lighted  Christmas  tree.  She 
told  me  that  all  she  needed  was  a  suit- 
able groom  doll  for  the  bride.  She  had 
received  many  offers  of  groom  dolls  but 
they  lacked  the  necessary  historical 
background,  they  were  not  blue  bloods. 
Most  of  her  dolls  were  received  from 


foreign  countries  and  had  been  handed 
down  from  generation  to  generation. 
There  was  my  plot — a  bride  waiting  for 
her  groom.  Then  research  gave  me  an 
authentic  history  of  the  first  dolls,  Indian 
dolls  and  dolls  used  for  pagan  rituals 
in  the  African  jungles.  That  created  in- 
terest. I  visited  the  editorial  offices 
where  the  story  was  first  published  and 
requested  the  loan  of  the  original  photo- 
graphs. I  wrote  2,000  words  on  "Wed- 
ding of  the  Dolls"  and  with  the  photo- 
graphs the  article  appeared  in  Profitable 
Hobbies. 

But  before  writing  this  story  I 
studied  the  hobby  magazines  and  decided 
just  what  magazine  I'd  submit  it  to.  The 
hobby  field  is  a  fresh  market  for  the 
amateur  writer  and  some  publications 
are: 

Profitable  Hobbies,  24  Burlington,  Kansas 
City  16,  Missouri. 

The_    Hobby    Reporter,    Editor    Maxfield,    30 1'      U 
Main  St.,  Nashua,  New  Hampshire.  " 

Hobbyists  Publication,  Editor  Rose,  19  S. 
Third  St.,  St.  Louis  2,  Missouri. 

Send  for  sample  copies;  study  them; 
then  circulate  them  among  your  friends 
and  neighbors.  You  should  find  at  least 
one  hobby  to  write  about.  Above  all 
keep  your  ears  and  eyes  open  and  your 
pencil  sharp. 

A  year  of  this  preliminary  writing 
should  prepare  you  for  the  larger 
markets  and  perhaps  enable  you  to  write 
fiction,  which  is  the  chief  goal  of  every 
writer. 

Hint's  on  Fiction  Writing 

Avoid  "ing"  words  together;  they 
usually  give  an  amateurish  tone.  An  ex- 
amble  of  this  violation  is  the  following 
paragraph,  which  not  only  violates 
phrasing  but  is  too  much  of  a  tongue 
twister.  It  was  taken  from  an  actual 
manuscript.  "Daily  deluge  of  conflicting 
regulations  rescinding  previous  still  more 


Number  11 


WRITING  AS  A   HOBBY 


29 


contradicting  rules  demanding  concen- 
tration." 

Do  not  use  too  many  adjectives  with 
nouns.  Adjectives  add  to  a  picture  and 
many  writers  make  their  scenes  more 
vivid  with  them,  but  they  should  not  be 
overdone.  Don't  overdo  adverbs  such  as 
"she  said  simply"  and  "he  protested 
feebly."  It  is  all  right  to  use  one  of  this 
type  now  and  then  but  usually  they 
should  not  be  together. 

Always  check  your  similes  and  meta- 
phors. These  help  more  than  anything 
else  to  make  a  writer's  style  original 
and  vivid,  but  must  be  new;  otherwise 
plain  phrases  should  be  used. 

Oh,  zvell  and  why  may  be  used  as 
dialogue  openings  now  and  then  but 
they  should  be  used  sparingly.  Check 
your  fictional  dialogue  and  omit  any 
that  won't  be  missed.  Too  many  give  an 
amateurish  effect.  They  are  sprinkled 
heavily  through  real  conversation  but 
can  be  rather  tiresome  in  fiction  dia- 
logue. 

Keep  one  person's  viewpoint  in  a 
short   story. 

Now  that  you  have  reached  this  final 
phase  of  this  study  it  is  recommended 
that  you  practice  the  following  routine : 

Purchase  three  recent  issues  of  one 
magazine  that  you  particularly  enjoy. 
Read  every  story.  Write  a  150-word  plot 
outline  of  each  story.  Take  five  or  six 
paragraphs  from  each  story  that  appeals 
to  you.  Then  write  them  out  word  for 
word  just  as  they  are  published.  Then 
experiment  with  these  few  paragraphs 
by  changing  them,  revising  and  reword- 
ing them. 

While  doing  this,  study  all  plots,  note 
similarities.  Then  write  a  plot  outline 
directed  to  the  particular  magazine  that 
appeals  to  you.  The  word  length  of  your 
story  should  be  the  same  as  the  published 
story.  The  number  of  main  characters 
you  use  should  be  the  same  also.  Ask 


"Oh,  I  don't  read  any  books — 
I  just  want  your  autograph." 

yourself,  "When  does  the  main  char- 
acter make  his  first  appearance?  When 
does  the  first  conflict  start?"  and  direct 
your  conflict  in  your  study  story  at  the 
same  point. 

After  you  are  thoroughly  familiar 
with  this  routine,  write  a  short-short 
original  story  of  1,000  words.  Introduce 
your  hero  or  heroine  in  the  first  100 
words.  At  the  time  you  make  this  in- 
troduction he  should  be  facing  a  conflict, 
a  problem  by  which  he  is  being  worsted. 

Your  hero  must  have  a  good  reason 
for  being  in  this  conflict.  His  motiva- 
tions for  wanting  to  continue  this  con- 
flict multiply  as  your  story  unfolds. 

At  the  same  time  the  opposing  force 
— villain,  weather,  physical  handicap  or 
a  personal  or  financial  problem — must 
have  good  logical  reasons  for  conflicting 
with  the  hero. 


30 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


At  the  end  of  the  first  action  sequence 
the  hero  is  a  little  worse  off  than  he  was 
at  the  beginning-. 

The  goal  or  climax  of  the  story  is 
clearly  in  your  mind  and  hinted  at  in 
the  first  500  words.  Every  incident  that 
does  not  lead  to  that  goal  should  be 
eliminated.  Every  act  of  the  hero  takes 
him  further  toward  his  goal  and  the 
climax. 

The  climax  and  explanation  are 
handled  in  the  last  500  words.  As  you 
write  this  your  first  story  continue  your 
study  of  other  short-short  stories,  such 
as  appear  in  Collier's  and  Liberty  maga- 
zines. 

Conclusion 

Returning  to  the  first  chapter  of  this 
work:  When  you  write  a  letter  it  is 
because  you  feel  you  have  something  to 
say.  The  same  procedure  holds  true  for 
writing  fiction  or  nonfiction.  You  have 
something  to  say,  some  message  to  con- 
vey or  some  idea  you  are  urged  to  ex- 
press. In  order  to  experience  any  relief 
from  these  creative  birth  pains  you  must 
undergo  the  labor  of  getting  the  ideas 


on  paper.  But  that  creative  power  must 
be  stimulated  by  a  worth-while  theme. 

The  secret  of  successful  writing  is 
sometimes  called  inspiration.  Inspiration 
is  the  ability  of  starting  with  an  infant 
idea  in  mind,  forcing  yourself  to  dress  it 
up  into  something  entirely  different,  and 
hoping  it  will  be  more  attractive  than 
the  original  idea. 

To  close  this  treatise,  the  famous 
words  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  are, 
at  this  point,  not  only  appropriate  but 
encouraging:  "To  travel  hopefully  is 
better  than  to  arrive." 

Assignment :  I  will  personally  assist 
any  reader  of  this  publication  to  write 
a  hobby  article.  Write  me  full  details 
about  the  hobby  you  want  to  feature. 
Enclose  stamped  envelope  for  reply.  If 
your  idea  is  acceptable  I  will  explain 
in  full  detail  how  to  prepare  your  idea 
and  where  to  submit  it  for  publication. 
All  letters  will  be  answered.  Address 
them  to : 

Joseph  C.  Salak,  6542  South  Woodlawn  Ave- 
nue,  Chicago  37 ,  Illinois 

Please  include  a  stamped  self-ad- 
dressed envelope  with  each. 


'  VAat  letter  2'd(^ed  m  Black 


The  bell  rang  furiously.  I  rushed  to  the  door.  The  postman  handed  me  a 
letter.  I  tore  open  the  envelope  and  read  the  notice  quickly.  Then  I  read 
it  more  slowly.  Then  I  read  it  again  with  sadness  and  regret.  Huge  tears 
filled  my  eyes,  both  of  them,  and  streamed  down  my  cheeks  onto  the  collar 
of  my  one  and  only  white  shirt,  as  I  gazed  out  into  the  gathering  twilight 
of  the  evening.  An  old,  old  friend.  Such  an  old  friend.  Is  it  any  wonder 
that  I  am  in  sorrow! 

Once  more  I  looked  at  the  notice — for  the  fourth  time.  Yes,  it  was  true. 
For  the  fifth  time  I  read  it,  ere  darkness  came,  and  sighed  deeply. 

Yes,  it  was  actually  there,  black  on  white.  My  subscription  to  THE 
LINK  had  expired. 


1   killed   him,"   she  said  sadly. 

Then  the  old  woman  began  swaying 
in  her  chair  in  the  corner  of  the  room, 
her  face  swathed  in  a  sliding  grey  mask 
of  shadows.  Thin  breaths  of  sorrow, 
barely,  distinguishable  from  the  creaking 
of  the  chair,  kept  slipping  from  her 
lips,    and    her    shoulders    twitched    as 


craving  some  form  of  action.  This  sit- 
ting and  quiet  moaning  depressed  him. 
He  experienced  it  as  a   sort  of  death. 

"I  must  go  soon,"  he  said,  although 
he  had  expected  to  stay  and  reminisce 
for  a  long  time. 

She  lifted  her  head,  her  eyelids  rising 
slowly   like   dark   shades   in   a   window. 


though  she  were  being  slashed  by  a  cold 
rushing  wind. 

Her  dead  son's  friend  sat  with  her. 
He  was  restless,  almost  frightened.  He 
had  come  from  across  the  ocean,  ex- 
pecting a  torrent  of  sound  and  tears, 
but  so  far  there  had  been  only  the  terse 
self-accusation  .' .  .  and  now  this  low, 
steady  keening.  .  .  .  He  was  young  and 
outgoing ;    he    found    himself    suddenly 


"I  am  very  sorry,"  he  said  louder, 
"but  I   must  go  soon." 

She  moved  forward  desperately  and 
with  one  movement  seemed  to  cast  the 
shadow  oflF  as  though  it  had  been  a 
grey  foamy  veil.  Alfred  hadn't  resembled 
her  at  all,  he  thought.  She  had  a  hawk's 
face,  dark  and  bony,  with  strength  and 
tension  showing  at  every  pore.  Alfred 
had  been  smiling  and  relaxed  and  blonde. 

31 


32 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


She  smiled.  It  wasn't  a  smile  of  glad- 
ness, he  noted.  How  could  it  be?  It  was 
a  signal  of  return.  She  had  withdrawn 
miles  inside  herself  to  some  lonely,  bitter 
shadow  of  a  place,  and  now,  returned, 
she  was  greeting  him,  Alfred's  friend, 
Alfred's  shipmate,  the  boy  who  had  seen 
Alfred  die. 

"He  was  brave?"  she  asked.  "The 
newspapers  said  he  was   brave." 

"Very  brave,"  he  said.  "He  stayed 
forward  in  the  ship,  knowing  all  the 
time  they  would  ram  us.  Many  people 
cried,  'Come  back,  come  back,'  but  he 
just  waved  and  stayed  forward." 

She  bounced  her  lips  and  shook  her 
head,  and  for  a  split  second  he  feared 
she  intended  traveling  back  to  the 
shadows,  but  then  she  smiled  a  new 
greeting  and  he  sighed  with  relief. 

"He  had  to  fight  for  the  Jews — "  she 
said.  "He  was  driven  by  that  feeling — . 
He  had  such  a  wonderful  quiet  job 
here  in  America,  a  translator,  but  his 
heart  wouldn't  let  him  stay." 

"He  loved  you — "  the  boy  said. 

She  smiled  brokenly.  "Every  son  loves 
a  mother — "  Then  after  a  pause :  "He 
was  buried  at  sea?" 

"At  sea — "  he  echoed. 

Then  she  shuddered.  Her  body  shook 
violently,  once,  twice;  then  it  shivered 
to  a  rest  and  she  smiled  again. 

"We  were  good  friends,"  he  said 
lamely. 

"I   killed  him,"  she  said. 

He  shook  his  head  dazedly.  "He  was 
killed  at  sea — " 

"It  was  my  hate — "  she  said.  "I 
taught  him  my  hate."  Then  she  paused 
for  a  long,  searching  moment.  "Alfred 
was  not  my  child,"  she  said  finally.  The 
boy  shivered  at  the  cold  nakedness  of  the 


words.  They  spoke  themselves  auto- 
matically while  her  eyes  stared  baj:k 
into  the  shadows. 

"He  was  a  foundling  in  Poland.  We 
were  lonely  so  we  took  him  in.  He  never 
knew  he  was  not  my  child.  We  came 
to  America.  Always  I  taught  him  my 
hate  for  everyone  everywhere  who  per- 
secutes Jews;  both  my  parents  and  my 
husband  had  been  killed  in  pogroms. 
But  did  I  have  the  right?  Who  knows 
— maybe  Alfred  was  born  of  Gentiles  ? 
He  was  an  infant,  a  foundling  when  I 
first  saw  him.  Here  in  America  he  got 
a  good  job,  a  translator;  he  had  already 
fought  in  the  war,  but  when  trouble 
started  again  he  felt  he  had  to  go." 

The  boy  stared  at  her.  Now  he  under- 
stood. He  v/alked  quickly  across  the 
room  and  took  her  hand. 

"You    didn't   kill   him,"    he    said. 

She  shook  her  head  stubbornly.  "Who 
knows  who  his  real  parents  were?  It 
was  just  chance  that  he  wasn't  brought 
up  as  a  Gentile.  Then  he  would  never 
have  known  my  hate.  He  could  have 
had  a  calm,  peaceful  life.  It  was  for  me 
he  went.  My  fault.  If  not  for  my  hate 
he  would  be  alive  today." 

The  boy  pressed  her  hand.  "No,"  he 
said.  "He  died  for  everyone's  hate  of 
what  is  wrong  and  must  be  changed." 

"I  killed  him!"  she  cried. 

"Look  at  me,"  he  insisted.  "I  was 
there.  On  board  the  ship.  Also  a  vol- 
unteer. And  I  am  a  Gentile.  You  hear 
me?" 

She  blinked  at  him.  Her  lips  quivered. 
No  sound  came  forth. 

"You  understand,"  he  said  softly.  "You 
understand  now.   It  wasn't  your  hate." 

Slowly  she  nodded.  Then  he  offered 
his  brow  to  her  and  she  kissed  it. 


PEOPLE  WHO  EIVE  IN 


nDDnDnDDnDDnnDnDDnanDDDnnnD 
a  D 

D  D 

n      Glass  Houses      B 

D  D 

D  D 

annnnnGnannnnnnnDnDDannnnnn 


SHOULDN'T! 


By  Oliver  Read  Whitley 


A  REPORTER  for  a  New  York 
newspaper  tells  us  that  as  he  was  hav- 
ing breakfast  in  a  cafeteria  one  morn- 
ing, a  fellow  at  the  next  table  suddenly- 
shouted,  grabbed  the  arm  of  his  friend 
sitting  near  by,  and  pointed  to  a  picture 
in  the  newspaper  he  was  holding  out. 
"See,"  he  said,  "that  robber  they  just 
caught;  he  has  a  moustache!  That's 
what  I  always  said.  It's  the  fellers  with 
the  moustaches  cause  all  the  trouble  in 
this  world  1"  If  you  want  a  simplified 
explanation  of  what  is  wrong  with  the 
world,  here  is  the  best  one  I've  heard 
yet.  Is  there  someone  you  suspect? 
Well,  look  and  see  if  he  has  a  moustache. 
If  he  doesn't,  then  you'd  better  look 
somewhere  else  because  you  obviously 
suspect  the  wrong  man. 

You  may  think  it's  amusing  to  blame 
all  the  world's  ills  on  men  with 
moustaches,  but  you'd  be  surprised  how 
many  people  will  judge  other  groups 
and  races  on  just  such  ridiculous 
grounds  as  that.  The  story  is  told  of 
a  dramatic  arts  teacher  who  one  day 
was  walking  down  the  street  and  met 
a  friend.  The  friend  would  not  even 
speak,  and  the  dramatics  teacher  de- 
manded an  explanation.  The  woman 
answered,  "I  have  heard  that  you  have 
a  Japanese  pupil."  "Why  should  that 
make  you  snub  me?"  asked  the  teacher. 


"I  don't  like  the  Japanese,"  said  the 
woman.  "Why  not?"  "I  don't  know, 
I  just  don't;  I  hate  Italians  too."  It 
is  just  as  simple  as  that.  There  isn't 
any  particular  reason  for  it;  I  just 
don't  like  somebody.  And  the  instances 
can  be  multiplied  a  hundred  times. 

Two  years  ago  at  his  concert  in 
Central  Park,  Edwin  Franko  Goldman 
read  a  letter  to  the  audience.  It  was 
from  a  woman  who  had  heard  his  fa- 
mous band  many  times.  The  woman 
said  she  wanted  him  to  "stop  playing 
the  confounded  Russian  music  so  often." 
Mr.  Goldman  answered  her  so  every- 
one in  the  audience  would  know  how 
he  felt.  He  told  her  that  he  played 
music  everyone  likes,  and  he  didn't 
care  who  wrote  it.  The  important  thing 
is  not  his  answer  to  this  woman's  com- 
plaint. What  really  matters  is  that  the 
complaint  ever  was  made  in  the  first 
place.  The  woman  could  not  enjoy 
the  music  because  she  doesn't  like 
Russia,  and  the  music  she  was  hearing 
was  written  by  Russian  composers.  The 
truth  is  that  if  she  hadn't  known  who 
composed  the  pieces  she  would  prob- 
ably have  enjoyed  them  a  great  deal. 

Time  magazine,  July  3,  1944,  printed 
a  letter  from  a  soldier  on  the  beach- 
head in  Italy.  "During  the  ten-minute 
breaks    in   Africa   and   Italy,"   he   said, 

33 


34 


THE  LIXK 


Volume  6 


"we  have  devoted  a  lot  of  effort  to 
trying  to  realize  in  the  imagination 
what  life  is  like  at  home.  .  .  .  Today 
a  magazine  comes  to  the  beachliead 
and  .  .  .  tells  a  story,  and  these  pleasant 
images  become  hideous  and  confused. 
According  to  the  stor>^  five  Japanese 
.  .  .  are  sent  to  Great  !Meadows,  X.  J. 
from  an  Arizona  relocation  center  to 
help  Ed  Kowalick  run  his  600  acre 
farm.  Ed  Kowalick's  neighbors  mount 
a  blind  patriotism  against  this  five  man 
oriental  menace  .  .  .  Hundreds  met  to 
himt  do\\*n  five,  who  had  comimitted 
the  crime  of  discarding  their  ancestn.- 
for  the  ties  of  a  new  country.  There 
are  crosses  with  Japanese  names  in  the 
American  cemeteries  in  the  bitter 
ItaHan  hills.  These  men  are  worthy 
to  bear  arms;  how  then  are  they  not 
worthy  to  grow  tomatoes  ?  .  .  .  Some- 
where in  the  confusion  is  the  central 
matter  of  what  is  true  and  what  is  not 
true  about  our  national  life.  This  is  a 
very  personal  matter,  like  love  or  good 
beer  or  dying,  and  I  should  like  some- 
one to  give  me  an  answer.'"*  The  young 
man  who  wrote  that  letter  was  2nd 
Lt.  Thomas  Riggs,  Jr.  His  question 
about  what  is  true  of  American  life  is 
perhaps  the  most  important  one  I  know. 
Generally  speaking,  there  are  two 
possible  answers  that  cover  all  the 
questions  raised  by  the  people  who 
think  that  "it's  the  fellers  with  mous- 
taches" who  cause  all  our  trouble,  or 
who  "don't  like  the  Japanese,"  or  who 
want  us  to  "stop  playing  that  confounded 
Russian  music."  One  answer  can  be 
found  in  Westbrook  Pegler's  syndicated 
column  printed  under  the  headline, 
"Prejudice  IS  NOT  Un-American," 
which  he  wrote  back  in  1943.  He  has 
shown  no  signs  of  changing  his  mind, 
so  I  suppose  he  still  feels  the  same 
way.  '"Some  of  our  masters  talk  great 
nonsense   these   davs,"    he   savs.    "about 


the  un- Americanism  of  racial  and  re- 
ligious prejudices  and  intolerance.  .  .  . 
We  deceive  ourselves  if  we  believe 
that  bigotr>'  and  intolerance  are  un- 
American.  Prejudice  flows  in  the  blood 
of  humankind  and  we  have  never  been 
free  of  it  nor  ever  will  be."  There  you 
have  it  I  Since  prejudice  is  characteris- 
tic of  many  Americans  it  is  not  to  be 
considered  un-American.  One  wonders 
if  he  is  really  telling  us  that  it  is  the 
American  thing  to  do,  to  hate  other 
people  and  be  intolerant  toward  them. 
This  reminds  me  of  a  story  I  once 
heard  about  the  meeting  of  a  great 
patriotic  society.  It  seems  that  they 
were  having  a  convention.  Near  the 
headquarters  were  t^'o  restaurants,  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  street.  The  pro- 
prietor of  one,  being  an  enterprising 
businessman,  and  wanting  to  get  a  lot 
of  the  trade  from  the  patriotic  societ\-'s 
convention,  put  up  a  sign  in  his  win- 
dow which  read  as  follows :  "This 
restaurant  is  100%  American :  Eat 
here  I"  The  convention  delegates 
noticed  this  and  were  attracted  by  it. 
Before  long  the  other  restaurant-owner 
realized  that  he  was  losing  his  cus- 
tomers to  the  "100%  American"  place. 
Xot  to  be  outdone,  he  hit  upon  a  way 
to  remedy  the  situation  and  get  his 
trade  back.  He  put  up  a  sign  reading 
"This  restaurant  is  200%  American; 
come  herel"  It  soon  aroused  the 
curositA-  of  the  patriotic  convention 
delegates,  and  finally  they  went  to  the 
"200%  American"  restaurant  and  in- 
quired of  the  proprietor,  "What  do  3^ou 
mean  by  saying  that  your  place  is  200% 
American?  We're  all  100%  Americans, 
and  there  is  nobody  more  patriotic  than 
we  are."  "Well,"  said  the  restaurant 
man,  "the  fellow  across  the  street — 
he's  only  100%  American :  he  hates  the 


*  Letter    of    2nd    Lt.     Thomas    Riggs,    Jr., 
used  by  stecial  permission  of  Time,  Inc. 


Number  11    people  who  live  in  glass  houses  shouldn't  ! 


35 


Negroes  and  the  Jews.  Me — I'm  200% 
American ;  I  hate  the  whole  damned 
human  race." 

That  may  not  be  a  true  story,  but 
it  comes  dangerously  close  to  the  way 
I've  heard  some  people  talk.  And  when 
I  hear  such  talk  I  get  scared,  because 
it  makes  me  think  that  the  America  I 
know  and  love  is  being  slowly  but  sure- 
ly poisoned  by  hatred  and  suspicion, 
administered  by  people  who  don't  think 
it's  un-American  to  spread  prejudice 
and  lies  about  other  people.  Just  be- 
cause a  lot  of  people  in  America  do 
have  prejudices  and  hatreds  toward 
others,  does  not  make  it  the  "American" 
thing  to  do. 

The  other  answer  to  Thomas  Riggs' 
question  about  American  life  is  that 
prejudice  toward  other  people  because 
of  race,  color,  or  religion  is  just  about 
the  most  un-American  thing  that  I 
know.  An  America  founded  upon 
hatred  and  suspicion  toward  people 
who  are  different  from  us  is,  as  Dorothy 
Baruch  has  said,  "a  glass  house  of 
prejudice."  People  who  live  in  glass 
houses,  so  they  say,  shouldn't  throw 
stones.  And  when  we  are  dealing,  not 
with  stones,  but  with  atomic  bombs, 
we  can  even  less  afford  to  be  careless. 
To  throw  stones  at  other  people  is  to 
endanger  the  future  of  oUr  country, 
and  to  convince  the  rest  of  the  world 
that  we  don't  really  mean  what  we  say 
about  democracy.  Don't  kid  yourself; 
the  rest  of  the  world  is  watching  what 
we  do  in  America,  because  they  know 
that  if  we  can't  make  democracy  work 
here  it  will  not  work  anywhere. 

Well,  if  intolerance  and  hatred  of 
others  are  un-American,  and  we  do 
want  to  make  democracy  work  (and 
I'm  just  foolish  enough  to  believe  that 
some  people  do  care  about  it),  what 
can  we  do?  For  one  thing,  we  can  re- 
fuse   to    believe    everything    we    hear. 


Have  you  heard  that  all  Negroes  are 
shiftless,  that  all  Mexicans  are  stupid, 
that  all  Japanese  are  sly  and  crafty, 
that  all  Irishmen  have  fiery  tempers, 
or  that  all  Jews  are  either  bankers  or 
communists  or  both?  If  you  have, 
brother,  don't  believe  it,  because  it  just 
isn't  so. 

The  second  thing  we  can  do  is  realize 
where  prejudice  comes  from.  If  we 
can  do  this  it  may  help  us  get  rid  of 
some  of  ours.  Prejudice  comes  mainly 
from  three  *  sources.  It  may  come 
through  imitation  or  repetition.  Joe 
Doakes  heard  someone  say  that  all 
radicals  and  undesirable  people  are  for- 
eigners ;  he  repeats  this  to  his  neighbor, 
and  before  long  he  not  only  repeats  it 
but  actually  believes  it.  Pretty  soon  he 
reverses  that  statement  and  begins  to 
believe  that  all  foreigners  are  radicals. 
That's  one  way  that  prejudice  gets 
started.  Another  way  is  through  un- 
fortunate experiences  which  warp  our 
minds.  Jane  Smith's  father  was  cheated 
by  a  tailor  who  happened  to  be  a  Jew. 
So  what  does  she  conclude?  The  Jews 
are  scheming  and  conniving  to  take 
over  America. 

The  third  and  perhaps  most  important 
source  of  prejudice  is  what  Dorothy 
Baruch  calls  "misplaced  resentment." 
People  who  are  unable  to  satisfy  their 
wants,  who  get  their  emotions  hurt, 
who  seem  to  find  every  door  in  life 
closed  to  them,  begin  to  resent  and 
hate  other  people.  Unable  to  find  the 
person  or  thing  that  is  getting  in  their 
way,  they  seek  a  substitute  target  to- 
ward which  to  aim  their  revenge.  Such 
people  are  easy  prey  for  the  rotten 
minds  who  want  to  confuse  them  into 
believing  that  some  racial  or  religious 
group  is  the  cause  of  all  their  troubles. 
Remember  our  fellow  who  wanted  to 
blame  all  our  trouble  on  men  with 
moustaches?    Those  who   profit  by   the 


36 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


confusion  and  turmoil  of  a  society  in 
which  people  are  hateful  and  prejudiced 
don't  care  if  you  think  it's  men  with 
dark  skins  or  long  noses,  or  men  with 
moustaches.  And  it  is  people  who  be- 
lieve these  ridiculous  lies  about  other 
people  who  smash  windows,  attack 
defenseless  men  and  women  in  alley- 
ways, and  burn  fiery  crosses  on  hill- 
sides. 

A  third  thing  we  can  do  about  the 
glass  house  of  prejudice  is  to  let  the 
hate-mongers  know  that  we  know  what 
the  score  is.  Only  a  square  believes 
some  of  the^  rot  they  hand  out.  "The 
so-called  race  question  is  an  economic 
one,  not  social.  Pay  the  Negro  good 
wages,  .  .  .  give  him  the  opportunity  to 
demonstrate  his  own  capacity  to  learn, 
work  and  earn,  give  him  his  Constitu- 
tional rights  and  you  have  solved  this 
distorted  so-called  race  situation.  Only 
a  demagogue  tries  to  make  political 
capital  of  social  equality,  of  racial 
intermarriage.  Let's  not  confuse  our- 
selves and  the  issue  with  such  absurdi- 
ties. Make  the  South  genuinely  pros- 
perous, so  that  there  is  economic  op- 
portunity for  every  citizen,  white  and 
black,  and  the  two  races  will  live  on 
friendly  terms."  Who  said  that?  Was 
it  a  dirty  communist  with  a  long  black 
beard,     or     a     'damned     Yankee'     w^ho 


doesn't  know  what  he  is  talking  about? 
Guess  again,  doc.  It  was  ex-governor 
Ellis  Arnall  from  Georgia,  who  is 
about  as  far  from  being  a  communist 
or  a  'damned  Yankee'  as  Atlanta  is 
from  Portland.  What  Mr.  Arnall  asks 
for  is  the  main  issue,  and  for  the  most 
part  he  is   right. 

The  other  thing  we  can  do  is  very 
simple.  Just  give  the  other  guy  a  break, 
will  you?  Whoever  your  neighbor  or 
fellow  townsman  may  be,  remember 
one  thing.  If  he  is  a  Negro,  a  Nisei, 
a  Jew,  a  Catholic,  a  Pole,  a  Protestant, 
it  should  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
way  you  judge  him.  His  religion  is, 
after  all,  his  own  business ;  and  he  can- 
not help  having  the  physical  features 
he  has,  any  more  than  you  can  help 
being  the  ruddy-complexioned,  charm- 
ing, handsome  fellow  you  are.  And  in 
case  you've  forgotten,  brother,  this  is 
America,  the  land  of  the  free  and  the 
home  of  the  brave.  There  is  nothing 
brave  about  hating  somebody  because 
of  his  race  or  religion,  and  you  can't 
be  free  when  prejudice  poisons  your 
mind.  The  conclusion  of  the  whole 
business  is  this :  people  who  live  in 
glass  houses — which  is  what  you  are 
doing  if  you  let  your  prejudices  gov- 
ern your  attitude  toward  other  people 
— SHOULiDN'T! 


/O  know  what  Ckxd  knows,  and  not  to  be  what  Cod  is,  is  the  most  dangerous 
thing  in  the  world,"  said  Dr.  Ralph  E.  Diffendorfer,  missionary  executive  of  The 
Methodist  Church.  "To  hold  the  'secret  of  the  universe,*  as  President  Truman  has 
described  atomic  energy,  and  not  hold  to  the  purpose  and  will  of  the  universe's 
Creator,  makes  us  mere  children  playing  with  fire  that  may  destroy  us." 

Which  brings  to  mind  the  late  Sir  Oliver  Lodge's  statement:  "We  have  measured 
the  secrets  of  molecular  chemistry,  and  we  are  on  the  verge  of  discovering  the  secrets 
of  atomic  chemistry.  I  pray  Cod  that  this  generation  may  not  make  this  discovery, 
because  we  are  not  fit  to  use  it." 


•  Subject  for  group  discussion  {first  week)  : 

THE  BIBLE  AND  HUMAN  R3CHTS 

/3^  R.al»en.t  Cadp-a/i  ^Inlne^ 

•  Questions  and  Scripture  references: 

1.  Does  the  Bible  stand  for  liberty?    (Leviticus  25:10;    Psalm   119:45;    Isaiah 
61:1-3;  John  8:31-36;  Galatians  5  :1) 

2.  Why   does  the   Bible  proclaim   our   equality   before    God?    (Proverbs    22:2; 
Matthew  23:8-12) 

3.  Why  is  our  human  brotherhood  so  fundamental  in  the  Bible?   (Psalm  133:1; 
Alatthew  6  :9  ;  Romans  14 :21 ;  I  John  4  :20,  21) 

4.  Why  does  the  Bible  promote  justice?   (Deuteronomy  16:20;  II  Samuel  23:3; 
Proverbs  21:3;  Micah  6:8) 

5.  Do  you  think  it  is  fitting  that  the  Bible  stands  for  economic  opportunities  for 
all  men?  (Ecclesiastes  5:9;  Colossians  4:1) 


•  Resource  material: 

We  who  believe  ardently  in  human 
rights  ought  to  be  proud  of  the  fact  that 
they  are  recognized  and  rooted  in  this 
grand  book  that  we  call  the  Bible.  When 
the  French  Revolutionists  stormed  the 
Bastille  and  thundered  for  liberty,  equal- 
ity and  fraternity,  they  were  making 
dynamic  use  of  ideas  and  ideals  that  had 
been  couched  in  the  sacred  writings  of 
the  Hebrews  and  then  the  Christians. 
It  is  good  to  understand  that  these  great 
principles,  and  others  as  valid  and  as 
challenging,  came  from  distant  days  and 
have  been  nourished  and  matured  by  the 
religion  that  shines  from  the  Bible. 

Take  the  idea  of  liberty.  We  first  see 
it  dimly  in  those  Old  Testament  pages 
where    it    was    struggling    to    be    born. 


There  was  a  time  when  a  slave  could 
look  wistfully  forward  to  being  free 
after  a  long  period  of  time — when  the 
year  of  jubilee  should  come.  Then,  and 
not  until  then,  would  his  freedom  be  a 
reality.  Those  seem  distant  days  to  us, 
and  indeed  they  were.  But  our  own  land 
has  not  been  free  from  the  blot  of 
slaverj'.  There  are  still  places  where 
slavery  is  inflicted  upon  men  whom  God 
intends  to  be  free.  But  the  ideal  of 
liberty  is  a  great  and  a  growing  ideal, 
and  we  should  be  proud  that  we  can 
trace  it  back  into  the  sacred  pages  of 
the  Book. 

One  of  the  glories  of  the  Bible  is  that 
it  gives  us  great  words — great  ideals 
and    great    pronouncements — and    then 

37 


38 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


inspires  men  to  pursue  those  ideals  and 
pronouncements  and  nurture  them  and 
make  them  live  and  bear  fruit  in  their 
own  lifetime. 

George  Walter  Fiske  reminds  us  that 
many  a  lad  has  found  that  real  freedom 
is  not  gained  by  breaking  laws,  and  that 
the  inscription  over  the  entrance  to  the 
great  courthouse  in  Cleveland  is  true: 
"Obedience  to  Law  is  Liberty."  Then 
he  goes  on  to  say  this :  "There  is  no 
real  liberty  in  any  other  course.  Just 
doing  what  you  please,  and  following 
that  impulse,  is  not  true  freedom.  Obey- 
ing a  sudden  impulse  to  follow  the 
primrose  path  usually  starts  or 
strengthens  some  bad  habit  which  forges 
shackles  on  our  characters  and  destroys 
by  just  so  much  our  freedom.  A  lawless 
person  is  never  free.  He  is  a  victim  of 
his  own  unaccountable  impulses  and  soon 
a  slave  to  his  bad  habits." 

But  the  Bible  goes  beyond  liberty  and 
talks  about  equality.  Those  who  had  a 
part  in  writing  those  earliest  pages  knew 
full  well  that  all  men  did  not  have  equal 
herds  or  tents  or  houses  or  phylacteries 
or  treasures,  but  they  knew  they  had  a 
common  right  to  worship  God  and  a 
common  duty  to  obey  the  law  and  take 
a  man's  place  in  the  world  of  their  day. 

Can  we  ever  forget  that  the  Ten 
Commandments  stand  in  austere  regality 
to  demand  obedience  from  all  men?  The 
rich  and  the  poor  must  not  covet ;  the 
richest  is  not  licensed  because  of  his 
riches  to  commit  murder  or  adultery. 
All  must  worship  and  revere  God  and 
honor  their  parents  and  keep  the  Sab- 
bath and  withhold  their  tongues  from 
bearing  false  witness.  Law  loses  its 
regality  if  it  gives  a  loophole  to  any 
man  because  of  wealth  or  position  or 
political  affiliation.  It  demands  equality 
of  us.  And  the  Bible  is  back  of  that 
inflexible  stand. 

Fraternity   was    a    dear   word   before 


the  French  Revolution  set  it  to  martial 
music.  The  Old  Testament  had  a  great 
deal  to  say  about  brothers.  The  New 
Testament  resounds  with  the  dulcer 
harmonies  of  brotherhood.  Jesus  taught 
us  to  enter  the  sacred  places  of  prayer 
to  call  upon  God  as  our  Father.  Jesus 
knew  well  enough  that  the  implications 
of  that  would  eventually  shame  us  into 
recognizing  the  world-wide  fraternity  of 
all  men  as  children  of  God. 

We  are  clamoring  today  that  our 
human  rights  include  economic  oppor- 
tunities for  all  men.  But  that  principle 
is  not  as  new  as  some  of  us  might  think. 
It  is  imbedded  back  in  the  dim  Old 
Testament  days.  Long  before  Social 
Democrats  and  communists  began  to 
needle  the  rich  and  lift  raucous  voices 
against  special  privilege,  a  quiet  old 
saint  set  down  a  sentence  soberly  and,  I 
suspect,  with  deep  religious  fervor  and 
conviction:  "The  profit  of  the  earth  is 
for  all."  (Ecclesiastes  5:9.) 

I  do  not  recall  that  Jesus  ever  did 
violence  to  the  ideal  that  glowed  back 
of  those  old  words,  nor  do  I  remember 
that  He  ever  found  it  either  necessary 
or  convenient  to  chastise  the  laborers  or 
the  capitalists  as  such.  He  warned 
against  the  dangers  and  the  deceitfulness 
of  riches,  but  he  found  rich  men  whose 
hospitality  he  could  accept,  and  at  the 
last  His  body  was  borne  reverently  to 
the  unused  tomb  of  a  man  of  nobility 
and  wealth.  Jesus  put  righteousness 
above  wealth  or  poverty,  but  He  zuanted 
every  man  to  have  enough  for  his  needs. 

This  will  come  to  pass  when  you  and 
I  join  others  in  trying  to  make  fraternity 
as  real  as  Jesus  tried  to  make  it ! 

Let's  never  forget  that  these  insistent 
pleas  for  human  rights  did  not  begin 
with  modern  political  platforms  but  with 
the  moral  and  religious  fervor  that 
shines  from  the  pages  of  the  Bible! 


^ofUc^cdki 


Bif  (iol^eni  Qa4ficui  liHtne^ 


FOR     THE      SECOND       WEEK     OF     THE      MONTH 

•  Subject  for  group  discussion: 

FAITH  AND  CHRISTIAN   LIVING 

•  Questions  and  Scripture  references: 

1.  What  place  should  joy  have  in  a  Christian's  life?  (Isaiah  55:12;  Acts  20:24; 
II  Corinthians  7:4) 

2.  Why  should  we  have  inner  peace  if  we  have  strong  faith?  (Exodus  33:12-14; 
Philippians  4:11) 

3.  Why  is  kindness  to  others  so  important  to  us?  (Luke  6  :31 ;  Romans  15  :2) 

4.  Why  should  the  Christian  stand  guard  over  his  spirit  and  try  to  restrain  every 
mil  impulse?  (Proverbs  16:32;  25:28) 

5.  Hozv  generous  should  zve  be?  (Deuteronomy  16:17;  Acts  20:35) 


•  Resource  material: 

Why  do  we  have  a  right  to  expect 
that  a  man's  faith  will  show  its  fruits 
in  every  part  of  his  life?  Don't  you 
think,  for  instance,  a  Christian's  life 
should  show  that  he  is  joyful?  Why? 
Certainly  a  good  man  will  know  the 
meaning  of  sorrow  as  well  as  repeated 
experiences  of  joy,  but  the  general  ten- 
dencies of  his  life  should  be  toward  hap- 
piness because  his  faith  should  help  him 
to  have  many  happy  experiences,  in 
adverse  circumstances  as  well  as  in  life's 
brighter  moments. 

Perhaps  we  lay  too  much  stress  upon 
the  effort  to  get  happiness.  I  believe  it 
was  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  who  said: 
"Happiness  is  as  a  butterfly,  which, 
when  pursued,  is  always  beyond  our 
grasp,  but  which,  if  you  will  sit  down 
quietly,  may  alight  upon  you."  Our  very 
anxiety  to  grasp  happiness  may  often 
defeat  our  own  purpose,  therefore,  by 
making  us  feverish  when  we  should  be 
serene,  or  covetous  when  we  should  be 


contented.  We  should  be  more  success- 
ful if  we  were  more  content  to  let  hap- 
piness light  upon  us! 

Inner  peace  of  mind  is  a  greater  treas- 
ure than  we  can  ever  rightly  value.  The 
great  German  poet  Goethe  once  said : 
"He  is  happiest,  be  he  king  or  peasant, 
who  finds  peace  in  his  home."  That  is 
true  enough,  but  will  one  ever  find  peace 
in  his  home  unless  he  finds  it  first  in  his 
own  heart  and  then  in  the  hearts  of 
others  in  the  home  ? 

A  peaceful  heart  is  vast  treasure  for 
any  one  of  us,  and  it  zvill  add  greatly  to 
the  riches  of  any  home  in  which  it 
abides. 

Generosity  is  one  of  the  real  marks  of 
Christian  living.  It  was  F.  W.  Gunsaulus 
who  gave  us  these  words :  "There  is  no 
happiness  in  having  and  getting,  but 
only  in  giving.  Half  the  world  is  on  the 
wrong  scent  in  the  pursuit  of  happiness." 

Another  prcacl>er,  J.  G.  Holland,  put 
it  even  more  forcefully  in  these  words  : 


40 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


"He  that  lays  out  for  God,  God  lays  up 
for  him.  But,  alas !  God's  credit  runs 
low  in  the  world ;  few  care  to  trust  Him. 
Give  and  spend,  and  be  sure  that  God 
will  send ;  for  only  in  giving  and  spend- 
ing do  you  fulfill  the  object  of  His 
sending." 

The  secret  of  giving  may  be  said  to 
lie  in  the  fact  that  God  doesn't  allow  us 
to  have  a  vacuum  when  we  give  some- 
thing good  away ;  in  place  of  the  thing 
we  give  is  something  that  God  gives  us 
to  fill  up  the  vacancy !  Hinton  put  it 
this  way :  "Never  be  afraid  of  giving  up 
your  best,  and  God  will  give  you  His 
better."  It's  as  simple  as  that — and  as 
generous  on  God's  part ! 

God  has  riches  far  greater  than  we 
can  imagine.  And  He  is  far  more  gen- 
erous with  us  than  we  are  ever  able  to 
realize.  He  gives  us  gifts  innumerable 
and  priceless  and  crowns  them  all  with 
eternal  life  and  the  gift  of  His  own  Son 
for  our  enrichment  and  our  redemption. 
After  all  this,  can't  \ve  understand  that 
God  will  never  allow  us  to  impoverish 
ourselves,  however  generously  we  may 
ever  give  to  Him  and  to  others  ? 

Will  God  ever  allow  us  to  give  more 
to  Him  than  He  will  give  to  us?  Would 
you  let  your  child  give  more  to  you 
than  you  give  to  him? 

Think  that  over  if  you  are  tempted 
to  he  niggardly  zvith  God! 

It  is  easy  to  be  niggardly  with  God 
if  we  are  selfish  and  think  first  and  last 
of  our  own  needs  and  our  pleasures. 
Too  many  of  us,  who  otherwise  are  very 
commendable  in  our  moral  and  religious 
living,  would  be  ashamed  if  we  were  to 
itemize  what  we  spend  for  ourselves  and 


then  compare  the  total  with  what  we 
spend  for  God  through  the  work  of  the 
Christian  Church  and  the  other  ways  in 
which  we  can  help  men  to  find  Christ 
and  to  live  a  larger  life  than  they  could 
otherwise  live  in  the  midst  of  privation 
and  suffering. 

Another  trait  that  every  Christian 
should  cultivate  is  kindness.  It  is  gen- 
erosity and  goodness  carried  out  in 
countless  ways.  It  gives  hands  and  feet 
and  heart  and  soul  to  our  best  impulses. 
It  helps  us  to  go  the  second  mile  when 
only  one  is  required  of  us.  It  helps  us  to 
give  others  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 
Jesus  taught  us  to  do  unto  others  as  we 
would  like  them  to  do  to  us.  That  is  the 
Golden  Rule.  That  is  kindness.  It  will 
inspire  a  multitude  of  deeds  that  will 
make  our  lives  better  and  others  richer. 

Dr.  William  L.  Stidger  tells  of  an  act 
of  kindness  years  ago  that  benefited  a 
multitude  of  people  all  over  the  world. 
A  poor  Welsh  widow  walked  ten  miles 
to  a  doctor  to  beg  him  to  come  to  see 
her  sick  baby  boy.  The  doctor  knew  she 
could  not  pay  him  for  that  long,  hard 
trip.  But  the  pleadings  of  that  Welsh 
mother,  with  the  fact  that  she  herself 
had  walked  those  long  miles  to  implore 
his  help,  induced  the  doctor  to  heed  the 
kindly  promptings  of  his  own  heart.  He 
went.  The  baby  boy  got  well.  And  what 
was  the  baby's  name?  David.  And  when 
he  grew  to  manhood  he  was  known  to 
Britain  and  the  world  as  David  Lloyd 
George. 

Kindness  is  a  badge  of  goodness.  The 
Christian  should  wear  it  gladly — and 
never  take  it  off ! 


A  Man  is  rich  according  to  what  he  is,  not  according  to  what  he  has. 

— Buster  Rothman 


^Oft4c'1<dU 


Bf  l^alfeAi  GaAfo^  XUtti^je^ 


FOR      THETHl  RD        WEEK      OF      THE      MONTcH 

•  Subject  for  group  discussion: 

THANKFULNESS— A  TEST  OF  CHARACTER 

•  Questions  and  Scripture  references: 

1.  Why  should  we  be  thankful  to  God  on   Thanksgiving  Day — and  every' day? 
(Psalm  92:1,  2) 

2.  Is  there  a  kind  of  solemn  urgency  that  makes  us  zvant  to  give  thanks  to  God? 
(Psalm  95:1-3) 

3.  Can  you  account  for  the  apparent  ingratitude  of  the  nine   lepers   that  ivere 
healed?  (Luke  17:11-19) 

4.  Hozv  did  Jesus  teach  us  to  make  each  meal  a  time  of  thanksgiving'?   (Luke 
22:19) 

5.  Hozv  did  Paul  stress   the  importance   of  being   thankful   io   God  every   day? 
(Ephesians  5:18-20) 


'  •  Resource  material: 

Would  you  say  that  thankfulness  is  a 
,  real  mark  of  a  good  character  ?  Why  ? 
We  would  all  say  that  thankfulness  is  a 
.  mark  of  courtesy,  but  wouldn't  you  say 
that  courtesy  has  spiritual  values  also  ? 
We  say  that  ingratitude  is  a  sign  of  poor 
upbringing,  but  wouldn't  you  say   that 
our  lack  of  thanksgiving  to  God  brands 
us  as  being  spiritually  deficient?  Why? 
There  is  something  very  heart-warm- 
^  ing   about   the    gracious    manners    of    a 
child  who  has  been  trained  to  act  cor- 
rectly in  his  social  contacts.  We  say  it 
is     good    etiquette    or    good    manners. 
Shouldn't  we  train  ourselves   to   be   as 
gracious    and    thoughtful    toward    the 
Giver  of  all  good  gifts  ? 

It  was  an  unlovely  incident  in  the 
New  Testament  when  ten  lepers  were 
cleansed  of  their  terrible  disease  and  only 
one    returned    to    give    thanks    to    his 


Plealer.  The  other  nine  scurried  away, 
presumably,  homeward,  so  eager  for 
other  matters  that  they  forgot  their 
manners.  They  failed  to  give  the  gift  of 
humble  but  joyous  thanks  in  return  for 
healing  that  was  priceless. 

Knowing  yourself  as  you  do,  is  it 
your  honest  opinion  that  you  would 
have  been  with  those  nine  that  day  in 
their  footrace  if  you  too  had  been  among 
those  healed,  or  do  you  think  you  would 
have  stayed  to  give  your  thanks  ?  Is  your 
answer  to  that  question  based  on  what 
you  ordinarily  do  when  God  gives  you 
some  unusual  gift  or  blessing?  Or  must 
you  admit  that  you  are  among  the  great 
host  of  those  who  accept  God's  countless 
gifts  without  so  much  as  batting  an  eye- 
lash, with  no  gracious  word  of  gratitude 
and  reverent  praise  to  the  Giver?  . 

Tell  me  :  if  you  and  I  do  that,  most 

41 


42 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


of  the  time,  don't  we  make  ourselves 
very  common  in  God's  sight?  Of  course 
you  will  tell  me  that  no  man  is  common 
in  the  Father's  sight.  Even  so,  why 
should  ive  ever  allozv  ourselves  to  act  as 
if  we  zvere  common? 

Good  manners  are  only  thoughtful 
and  courteous  actions.  To  some  extent 
they  are  the  Golden  Rule  brought  into 
our  everyday  actions  as  we  move  in  and 
out  among  other  people.  If  I  fail  to  ex- 
press my  thanks  for  even  a  tiny  gift 
from  another  human  being,  I  brand 
myself  as  a  thoughtless  ingrate.  Can  you 
and  I  dare  to  brand  ourselves  as  that 
in  the  sight  of  God? 

"Don't  risk  offending,"  murmurs  the 
dulcet  voice  of  the  lady  on  the  radio  who 
cajoles  you  into  buying  the  latest  touted 
deodorant  on  the  market.  Even  better, 
we  should  not  risk  offending  those  who 
are  kind  to  us,  and  especially  the  Father 
whose  gifts  are  so  lavish  that  even  our 
best  prayer  of  thanksgiving  is  small  in 
return. 

We  have  always  a  solemn  obligation 
to  offer  Him  our  prayers  of  thanksgiv- 
ing. Thanksgiving  Day  can  never  afford 
us  hours  enough  to  discharge  that  ob- 
ligation ;  it  can  only  serve  as  a  reminder 
to  be  thankful  ahvays. 

Did  you  ever  try  to  count  up  the 
things  you  should  be  thankful  for?  Try 
it !  You  may  discover,  among  the  multi- 
tude of  them,  that  you  have  some  things 
that  no  other  person  has  money  enough 
to  buy!  And  while  you  are  counting 
them,  take  a  look  at  the  ones  that  are 
so  important  that  you  may  use  them  to 
bless  many  people  besides  yourself.  Ten- 
nyson had  the  gift  of  a  priceless   song 


to  assure  others  that  immortality  is  our 
sure  gift  from  God.  Tennyson  shared 
that  song  and  many  others.  Edison  had 
a  gift  for  conceiving  new  things  to  make 
life  lovelier  and  ampler.  He  did  not 
cast  his  ideas  into  a  corner  of  his  mind 
to  be  forgotten.  He  lighted  lamps  of 
wonder  for  others. 

Aluch  of  our  failure  to  thank  God  is 
because  we  are  spiritually  immature. 
We  write  bread-and-butter  notes  w^hen 
we  have  shared  the  hospitality  of  some- 
one who  has  invited  us  in  to  dinner.  But 
far  too  many  of  us  sit  down  to  our  own 
table,  day  in  and  day  out,  to  gorge  our- 
selves with  the  gifts  of  God,  and  give 
not  even  a  thought  to  lifting  a  gracious 
prayer  of  thanksgiving  to  Him !  That 
isn't  right !  It  isn't  gracious !  It  isn't 
responsible !  More  damaging  yet,  it 
shows  that  we  are  not  spiritually  ma- 
ture !  For  maturity,  in  the  realm  of  the 
s:  irit  as  much  as  elsewhere,  recognizes 
causes  and  effects  ;  it  recognizes  respon- 
sibilities and  obligations  that  are  laid 
upon  us  because  of  our  privileges. 

If  we  are  obligated  to  write  a  gracious 
note  afterward  v.'hen  a  friend  has  us  to 
dine,  w^e  have  an  infinitely  greater  obli- 
gation, for  time  and  for  eternity,  when 
God  ministers  to  our  bodies  and  our 
spirits  constantly  with  innumerable 
gifts,  many  of  which  are  so  priceless 
that  no  hostess  has  money  enough  to  buy 
them ! 

Can  we  ever  be  grudging  or  tardy  in 
our  gift  of  thanksgiving  to  Him  when 
we  remember  these  things? 

Let's  give  Him  the  praise  of  our 
thankful  hearts,  now  and  always  ! 


Do  not  let  the  rood  things  of  life  rob  you  of  the  best  things. 

— Buster  Rothman 


'lofUc'lalki 


Bif'  (^(^laeni  Gad^2<2A^  ^uiti^en, 


FOR     THE      FOURTH       WEEK     OF     THE     MONTH 


•  Subject  for  group  discussion: 

GET  THE  MOST  FROM  YOUR  LIFE! 

•  Questions  and  Scripture  references: 

1.  Why  is  it  so  important  to  us  to  be  able  to  recognise  moral  values f  (Genesis  3  :5) 

2.  Can  any  man  safely  ignore  or  neglect  his  spiritual  development?  (Job  32:8) 

3.  Why  should  zve  try  to  make  the  utmost  of  our  talents  and  our  opportunities? 
(I  Corinthians  3:16) 

4.  How  did  Paul  challenge  us  to  seek  God's  help  in  trying  to  become  our  best? 
(Ephesians  4:20-24) 

5.  Why  is  our  self-realisation  climaxed  by  our  serious  efforts  to  make  the  most 
of  ourselves  spiritually?  (II  Peter  1 :2-8) 


•  Resource  material: 

Can  you  think  of  a  better  adventure 
than  setting  out  to  get  the  most  and  the 
best  from  your  own  life?  Is  it  true  that 
a  man  "is  the  master  of  his  own  fate?  If 
you  bslieve  that,  what  are  the  most  im- 
portant things  for  you  to  do  in  order  to 
make  your  Hfe  successful  to  the  fullest 
extent?  It  will  pay  us  to  give  some 
serious  thought  to  this  very  important 
matter. 

For  one  thing,  you  should  know  just 
what  sort  of  person  you  are.  What  are 
your  strong  points?  What  are  your 
weaknesses?  Take  a  look  at  yourself. 
At  what  points  are  you  most  vulner- 
able to  temptation  ?  What  can  you  do  to 
avoid  or  overcome  those  temptations? 
Try  to  strengthen  your  defenses.  Do  not 
sabotage  the  forces  that  would  help  to 
protect  you  and  make  you  strong  and 
victorious.  Nothing  else  is  so  important 
to  us  as  the  development  of  a  strong 
Christian  faith  and  a  noble  character. 


We  need  also  to  train  our  minds  and 
develop  our  talents  and  abilities.  Get  a 
good  education  before  you  start  your 
chosen  work  in  life.  Heartening  words 
are  coming  from  colleges  across  this 
land  concerning  the  hard  and  successful 
work  that  former  GIs  have  been  doing 
in  college.  Not  long  ago  an  administra- 
tive officer  in  a  very  good  eastern  col- 
lege wrote  to  me  in  high  praise  of 
veterans  in  his  school.  He  stressed  espe- 
cially their  fine  attitude,  and  stated  that 
they  are  more  ambitious  and  work 
harder  tlian  they  did  previous  to  the  war. 

That  ties  in  with  other  reports  that 
I  have  had.  Veterans  have  come  to  a 
degree  of  maturity.  They  know  the 
score  and  they  are  out  to  make  the  most 
of  their  time  and  their  opportunities. 
Their  hard  experiences  in  training  and 
in  combat  have  sharpened  their  apprecia- 
tion for  quieter  and  more  construclivc 
hours    in    classroom    and    librarv    and 


44 


THE  LINK 


Volume  6 


laboratory.  The  veteran  knows  full  well 
that  this  is  his  golden  opportunity  to 
prepare  for  larger  living.  He  is  putting 
himself  into  his  work  with  zest,  for 
college  will  help  him  to  get  the  most 
out  of  life. 

I  hope  many  of  you  who  read  these 
words  will  get  to  college  as  soon  as 
possible,  if  you  have  not  already  begun 
work  there.  You  can  pass  up  some 
things  in  life,  but  don't  pass  up  college 
if  you  can  possibly  go ! 

Build  up  good  habits  of  study, 
whether  you  are  in  or  out  of  the  class- 
room. Delve  into  good  books.  Learn  to 
study  to  the  best  advantage.  It  may  help 
you  to  improve  your  speaking  voice  if 
you  read  good  literature  aloud. 

Study  the  Bible,  for  it  has  vast  riches 
for  the  thoughtful  student.  No  other 
book  has  ever  influenced  human  lives  so 
greatly  and  in  such  multitudes.  Build 
the  Bible  into  your  life !  You  will  never 
regret  it,  and  you  will  never  outgrow  it. 

A  great  soldier  and  a  famous  presi- 
dent of  our  country  once  made  this  em- 
phatic and  challenging  statement :  "Every 
soldier  and  sailor  of  the  United  States 
should  have  a  Testament.  .  .  .  We  plead 
for  a  closer,  wider  and  deeper  study  of 
the  Bible,  so  that  our  people  may  be  in 
fact,  as  well  as  in  theory,  'doers  of  the 
Word,  and  not  hearers  only.' "  That 
soldier  and  president  was  Theodore 
Roosevelt. 

No  soldier  can  read  his  Bible  or  his 


New  Testament  without  feeling  a  deeper 
sense  of  the  importance  of  moral  and 
religious  values.  They  must  undergird 
his  life  if  he  is  really  in  earnest  about 
trying  to  becom.e  his  best.  He  can  no 
more  neglect  moral  and  religious  values 
than  he  can  neglect  the  proper  intake  of 
food  and  vitamins  into  his  physical  body. 

We  should  set  high  and  distant  goals 
for  ourselves,  and  then  try  to  reach 
them.  We  should  compare  ourselves 
with  Jesus  and  the  greatest  of  the  other 
great  souls  in  the  Bible.  We  should 
measure  our  lives  by  His  teachings.  We 
should  remember  also  to  measure  our 
daily  work  not  merely  for  its  value  in 
the  day  itself  but  by  this  question :  Hoiv 
jar  have  I  advanced  today  toiuard  the 
great  goals  that  I  have  set  for  myself 
in  life? 

Deeds  count  tremendously.  They  show 
what  our  moral  standards  are.  They 
show  also  what  our  religious  beliefs  are 
really  doing  for  us  and  for  others.  Deeds 
show  whether  or  not  we  are  in  earnest 
about  life.  They  show  how  much  we 
really  care  about  others.  They  show 
whether  or  not  we  are  trying  to  arrive 
somezvhcre  in  this  earthly  pilgrimage 
that  we  call  life. 

John  G.  Holland  once  wrote:  "A 
noble  deed  is  a  step  toward  God." 

How  many  steps  will  you  take  today 
in  that  direction — for  the  sake  of  being 
your  very  best? 


•  --'GNS^  sn2/(9^. 


Several  years  ago  a  lonely  young  Marine  on  Guadalcanal  wrote  home,  asking  that  his  parents 
read  a  chapter  of  the  New  Testament  each  day.  "1  will  read  the  same  chapter  way  across  the 
other  side  of  the  world,"  he  promised,  "and  I  will  feel  somehow  we  are  united,  sort  of  joining 
invisible  hands."  From  this  beginning,  right  in  the  ranks  of  you  service  men,  has  grown  an 
annual  world-wide  Bible  reading  between  Thanksgiving  and  Christmas  of  each  year,  sponsored 
by  the  American  Bible  Society.  November  25  this  year  will  see  its  fifth  year  of  operation,  and 
in  the  month  following,  you  and  your  folks  can  be  joined  in  spirit,  part  of  this  international 
fellowship.  The  texts  will  be  published  in  our  "Daily  Rations"  column.  (See  page  46  for 
November.) 


Pen  Friends 

In  our  form  there  was  a  wish  to  cor- 
respond with  EngHsh-speaking  boys  or 
girls  (boys  preferred).  So  we  turn  to 
you  asking  if  you  could  possibly  send  us 
a  few  addresses  or  otherwise  publish 
our  request  in  your  magazine.  Our  aim 
is  to  exchange  thoughts  with  people  in 
other  countries,  but  not  to  beg  CARE 
parcels. 

We  are  about  17  years  old. 

Laurenz  Wans  I 
(13a)  Hof/Saale 
Bayreuther  Strasse  95 
U.   S.   Zone,   Germany 

Heinz  Ruckddschel 
(13a)  Hof/Saale 
Krenzsteinstrasse    2 
U.   S.   Zone,   Germany 


I  should  like  to  correspond  with  a 
young  man  American  nearly  of  the  same 
age  as  I.  Can  you  get  a  pen  friend  for 
me.  I  am  French  of  very  good  family 
and  I  am  24  years  old. 

Philip  Cortyl 

30  rue  Sainte  C raise 

Martague    (Orne)    France 


Fan  Mail 

I  should  like  to  express  my  apprecia- 
tion for  reading  The  Link,  which  I 
occasionally  get  from  other  Protestant 
Chaplains  here  in  Okinawa.  Its  articles 
and  humor  bring  enlightenment  and  life 


to  me.  But  I  cannot  remain  indifferent 
or  rather  selfish  toward  my  boys  with 
regards  to  the  joy  and  life  which  this 
magazine  gives  me ;  I  should  like  to 
share  the  blessings  it  gives  with  my 
boys.  I  should  like  therefore,  to  appeal 
to  you  by  sending  me  copies  for  distribu- 
tion to  these  boys  who  I  think  will  be 
more  than  glad  in  receiving  the  same. 
Can  you  send  me  about  fifty  copies  of 
these  magazines  every  now  and  then  ? 

Pedro  C.  Lusung 
1st    Li.,    Ch-C    AUS 
0-18997066 


I'm  reading  The  Link  and  feeling 
very  much  joy  in  the  small  book  in 
Japan.  I'm  a  Japanese  boy  aged  17  and 
first  year  student  of  a  senior  high  school 
in  Osaka.  Well,  would  you  kindly  guess 
how  I  am  glad  to  have  the  opportunity 
to  write  to  you.  Editor? — who  have  me 
influenced  for  good  in  everything. 

So  well  as  the  information  of  the 
German  boy's  letter  in  the  May  issue  of 
this  year,  we  Japanese  boys,  who  intend 
to  reconstruct  the  nation  to  be  demo- 
cratic, are  thankful  to  be  given  the 
American  books  and  magazines  such  as 
your  Link,  Life,  and  so  on,  or  to  be 
permitted  to  use  the  Civil  Information 
and  Education  Library  and  the  churches 
— latter,  in  the  what-not  of  the  place  I 
may  take  this  magazine  freely. 

45 


46 


thp:  link 


Volu 


I  have  been  favored  this  present  since 
a  year  and  am  very  glad  to  find  bright- 
ness and  happiness  of  the  people  or  to 
see  the  godliness  which  reflects  a  phase 
of  the  American,  who  was  described 
and  impressed  on  us  by  the  military, 
ultranationalist  and  anti-American 
grown-ups  as  Yankee  goblin  and  very 
much  material. 

Moreover,  especially,  the  cover  pic- 
ture of  every  issue  such  as  chickens  in 
Alarch  and  Johnny  Mize  in  April  ap- 
pear very  impressionable  in  conjunction 
with  education  and  art  itself  and  has 
very  nice  perfume  of  the  ink  and  paper 
likely  to  bring  exotic  feeling. 

Otherwise,  the  living  language  Ameri- 
can itself,  not  English,  can  be  learned 
easily. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  The 
Link,  being  dreamful,  hopeful  and  joy- 
ful from  every  angle,  is  the  source  of 
curing  and  satisfying  my  curiosity  and 
thirst  for  the  foreign  country  and  the 
better  future. 

In  Japan  it  is  the  time  in  the  early 
summer  when  bright  and  clear  are  all 
skies  and  there,  under  such  skies,  flutter 
the  national  flag  of  the  U.  S.  A.  and 
"the  corps  pennant,"  according  to  the 
Japanese  old  and  usual  custom,  in  the 
sea  of  young  and  green  leaves. 

Finally,  I  hope  you  print  many  articles 
such  as  "After  Two  Years  in  Japan." 

Shigeyasu     Hazarna 

No.     16,    2    ho-me,    Oyodo    Ward 

Osaka,    Japan 


We  enjoy  your  magazine  very  much, 
especially  in  your  May  issue  the  poems 
"Thanks"  by  Doro  on  page  10  and 
"From  Occupational  Zones"  by  Lashley 
on  the  back. 


K.   Anderson   (Mrs.   James  B.) 
Aberdeen,  Mississippi 


BIBLE     READINGS      FOR     THE     MONTH 

(Prepared  by  James  V.   Claypool.  Sec'y..  Pro- 
motion of  Bible  Use,  American  Bible  Society) 

1.  Proverbs    14    .  .  .• Up    Right 

2.  Proverbs    15    The  Know-How 

3.  Proverbs   16    The  Do-Cooder 

4.  Proverbs   17:1-18:18    Not  So    Bad 

5.  Proverbs   18:19-19:29 

How  to  Win  Friends 

6.  Proverbs  20 And  Influence  People 

7.  Proverbs  21    A  Wise  Man 

8.  Proverbs  22 A  Good  Name 

9.  Proverbs  23    Now  Hear  This 

10.   Proverbs  24    Evil   Men  CXit 

1  1 .   Proverbs  25   Cot  the  Word.? 

12.  Proverbs   26:1-27:10    ...Thou  Sluggard 

13.  Proverbs  27:11-28:28 

A  Study  in  Contrasts 

14.  Proverbs  29:1-30:9  .  He's  Up — He's  Down 

15.  Proverbs  30:10-31 :31  ..  Mother's  Counsel 

1 6.  Joshua   1    Be  Strong 

17.  Exodus  20:1-17    The  Ten  Words 

18.  James   1    Do    it  Well 

19.  Calatians  6    Bear  a   Hand 

20.  Revelation  22 The  Last  Chapter 

21.  I  Corinthians  15 The  Next  Life 

22.  Psalms  37 Where  Is  Security.? 

23.  PsaSms  51    1   Would  Do  Better 

24.  John  10    .  ^ The  Good  Shepherd 

25.  Psalms  103    Grateful  Praise 

26.  Psalms  90    God    Is  Eternal 

27.  Psa!ms   91     Trust    Him 

28.  Psalms  23    Everybody's   Favorite 

29.  Ephesians  6    :  .  .  .  .The  Whole  Man 

30.  Philippians   4    Peace   of   Mind 


HATRED  OF  CHRISTMAS  BY 
SOME  GROUPS  OF  EARLY 
SETTLERS,  AIDED  THE  GENERAL 
ACCEPTANCE  OF  THANKSGIVING 
DAY  BY  THE  COLONIES/ 


fe^ 


r;^'" 


BEARS  MEAT  NOT  TURKEY 
WAS  TUt   CENTER    OF 
THE    FESTIVE    BOARD  IN 
RHODE  ISLAND  AND   IN 
CONNECTICUT    DURlNCr 
EARLY  THANKSGIVINGS. 


3^-1-Ll, 


"And  what  is  the  baby's  name?"  asked 
the  minister  softly. 

The  3-oung  father  smiled  proudly  as 
he  hoisted  the  little  fellow  up  on  his 
arm.  "Chauncey  William  Robert  Mont- 
gomery Finley." 

Up  shot  the  minister's  eyebrows,  as  he 
turned  to  his   assistant :    "More   water, 

please."  Cp.   Lee  Traveller 


Two  liack  crows  were  flying  cross 
country  when  a  P-80  went  zooming 
past,  its  jet  propulsion  spurting  flames 
from  its  exhaust. 

"Boy,"  exclaimed  one  crow,  "is  that 
bird  in  a  hurry !" 

"Yes,"  said  the  other  crow,  "and  I 
bet  you'd  be,  too,  if  your  tail  was  on 
fire."  The   Seabag 


"Mama,  do  all  angels  fly?" 
"Yes,  \Mllie,  why  do  you  ask?" 
"Cause  I  heard  dad  call  the  hired  girl 

an   angel   the   other   day.   Will    she   fly, 

too?" 

"Yes,  Willie,  tomorrow." 

Boston  Naval  Shipyard  News 


Getting   up   early  in  the   morning   is 
merely  a  question  of  mind  over  mattress. 

Medi-Ca'l 

48 


He  was  sitting  at  a  restaurant  table 
sawing  away  at  the  fricasseed  leg  of 
chicken.  Finally  he  put  down  his  knife 
and  fork,  leaned  over  to  the  next  table, 
pointed  to  the  bottle  of  A-1  sauce,  and 
said  loudly  to  the  lady  sitting  at  the 
table :  "Pardon  me,  madam,  would  you 
please  pass  the  liniment?  This  crow  has 
rheumatism."  Exchange 


Egotist — A  man  who  tells  you  those! 
things  about  himself  which  you  intended 
to  tell  him  about  yourself.       The  Oakleaf 


Two  sailors,  at  sea  for  the  first  time, 
were  looking  out  over  the  mighty  ocean. 
Said  one,  "That's  the  most  water  I  ever 
saw  in  my  life."  The  other  replied,  "You 
ain't  seen  nothin'  yet.  That's  just  the 
top   of   it."  Exchange 


First  GI  :  "The  service  club  sure  is 
crowded  tonight." 

Second  ditto :  "Fll  say  so.  Half  an 
hour  ago  I  fainted  and  had  to  dance 
around  four  times  before  I  could  fall." 

Exchanot 


Affiliated   or  Co-operating   with 

THE  GENERAL  COMMISSION  ON  CHAPLAINS 

and  the  work  of  the 

SERVICE  MEN'S  CHRISTIAN  LEAGUE 


ORGANIZATIONS: 


Nat'l  Council  of  Young  Men 
International  Council  of  Reli 
Federal  Council  of  Churches 
Internariondl   Society   o!    Chn 


's  Christian   Associations 
gious  Education 
of  Christ   in  America 
stian   Endeavor 


CHURCHES: 


Advent    Christian    General    Conference    of 
America 

Baptist,   General 

Baptist,    National    Convention    of    America 

Baptist,   National   Convention,   U.S.A.,    Inc. 

Baptist.    North   American   General    Confer- 
ence 

Baptist,    Northern 

Baptist,  Seventh   Day 

Baptist,    Southern 

Baptist,  Swedish 

Baptist,  United  American  Free  Wilf 

Christian  Reformed 

Christian    Science 

Church  of  God 

Churches  of   Cod   in   North   America 

Congregational  Christian 

Disciples   of   Christ 

Episcopal 

Evangelical    and   Reformed 

Evangelical    Congregational 

Evangelical   Free  Church  of   America 

Evangelical  Mission  Covenant 


Evangel ica'    United    Brethren 

Latter-Day    Saints 

Methodist 

Methodist,    African    Episcopal 

Methodist,    African    Episcopal    Zion 

Methodist,    Colored 

Methodist,    Free 

Methodist,   Primitive 

Methodist,   Wesleyan 

Moravian 

Nazarene 

Pentecostal    Holiness    Church 

Presbyterian,   Associate   Reformed 

Presbyterian,   Cumberland 

Presbvterian,   United 

Presbyterian,    U.S. 

Presbyterian,  U.S.A. 

Reformed   in   America 

Salvation   Army 

Seventh   Day  Adventist 

Unitarian 

United   Brethren    in   Christ 


Sav  ot  us  that,   lighthearted  and  caretree  u^ere  we" 

In  out*  files files   that  met  the  sea. 

From  the  schools^,  from  the  farm,  for  *>ome  the  city  hrighiiies^. 
Now,  all  thi*>  Mras  behind  tis, 

JEagerJy  vw^c  marched  to  the  sea.   each  unto  his  ovi^n'.  as  silenlly 
We  were   ov^erseas  home, 

Gav  were  the  voiced  adieus,  waving  w^ere  the  gentle  hands, 
Violentlv  at  an  oceantide  we  met  that  alien  shore,  Jiuddled  in  files, 
Files  we  remember-  ^  .  -  -  fovex^ermove'. 

First  it  had  been  a  strange  din-.  "Open  file close  tiJe — right  hv 

Lett.,^  column  right.-.*;      Ours  to  obey,  those  command*  of  yesterday. 

"Tticwnv  it  M'-as" — yes.  Mot  then,  "ours  to  question  whv." 
Nov*,  crosse:s  on  our  right,  crosses  on  our  left,  'midst  those 
Rows    after  rows,  our  files  of  yesterday- 
Eternal  rows  for  us  to  honor  and  obey-. 

Softh'  and  sadJv  some  of  ns  return  u'ith  a  friendly  oceantide. 

Softly,  we  of  all  svho  rempinbered  those  of  them,  who  are  now 

Numbered.  Now^  our  thoughts  are  numbered. 

Numbered,  yes;  "unto  that  day"  lest  ^yCFoi-get  those  friendly 

Voices,  those  gentle  hands,  now  mute,  now  still,  that  marjked  their 

Faith,    "heard  by  angels  on  high." 

Faith  for  us  to  hold  higK, 

Fi*iendly  voices,   now  silent.  Eternolly  silenl?   nay. 
Lest  we  disturb  those  tiles,  sacred  tiles  ot  our  yesterday-. 

Let  us  say,  i-everently  Say,  at  this  eventide.     "Our 
Shining  today,"  as  w^e  reflect  o'er  our  national  greotness,  o'er  our 
Fields   of  martial  strife  and  story,  that  those  rows  after  rows,  of 
Our  cx-osses,  "do  mark  their  faith.  " 

That,  'that  faith" si^eaUs  tons,  the  living  tree  of  today. 
Of,    "a  promised.  Trinity, "  tor  us  ,  ,  ,  ^  forevermore. 

Sen/ ear//  Victory  Su/livati