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Full text of "Yank, the Army Weekly, Vol. 4, No. 4: July 13, 1945"

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5.  JULY  13 
^    VOL.    4,    NO.  4 
19  4  5 

By  fhe  men  .  .  .  for  the 
men  in  the  service 


M^fy^*  liitalfcjt: i^^^j^flipl^ 


By  eVAN  WYUf  »U  (PR)  USCOR 
YAlitK  Staff  CdrrMpendMir 

OKINAWA,  Ryukyvs — The  skipper  of  the  de- 
stroyer stood  on  the  bridge,  his  head 
thrown  back,  peering  through  glasses  at 
the  ack-ack  fire  bii^  on  the  horizon.  "They're  at  it 
again,"  he  said.  lie  lowered  the  glasses  and  pulled 
his  basel>all  cap  down  over  his  eyes.  'They're 
licked,  but  they  keep  coming  back  for  more.  Now 
it's  suicide  planes  with  suicide  pilots — the  Kami- 
fcozcGoips.  Means  'divine  wiaci' they  tell  me.  Kkto 
with  a  little  flil^t  training  hopped  up  with  the 
idea  of  joining  their  ancestors  in  the  most  honor- 
able way  possible." 

He  smiled  and  the  lines  of  fatigue  and  strain 
made  deep  furrows  in  his  weather-beaten  face, 
"^t's  a  weird  business;  something  that  only  a  Jap 
would  dream  up.  Almost  every  day  they  claim 
they've  sunk  another  hundred  of  our  ships.  Ac- 
tually we  shoot  most  of  them  down  'before  they 
get  to  us.  Some  get  through,  of  ooune.  They're 
bound  to.  A  few  hit  U  they  only  knew  how  few, 
maybe  they'd  quit" 

'Itie  deebr^FO'  vna  the  VSS  Neweomb*.  She 
had  taken  the  worst  the  fcamtlcaze  boys  could 
offer.  Seven  Jap  suiciders  had  hurled  their  planes 
at  her,  determined  to  destroy  the  ship  and  them- 
selves in  one  big  moment  of  beautiful  everlast- 
ing glory,  niree  .had  been  shot  down.  Four  had 
connected.  The  Newcombe  still  was  afloat  and 
most  of  her  crew  still  were  alive.  Some  of  them 
were  sitting  cross-legged  on  the  deck  below  play- 
ing cards.  They  didn't  look  as  if  they  were  very 
much  awed  by  the  attention  of  the  Japanese 
Navy's  .qiedal  attack  corps. 

THE  wpather  that  day  had  been  good.  The  iVeti>- 
combe,  patrolling  ofF  Okinawa,  slid  easily 
through  the  slight  swell,  her  crew  at  battle  sta- 
tions. The  air  defense  had  passed  word  that  an 
attack  by  Jap  suicide  planes  was  expected,  but  the 
afternoon  wore  on  and  there  were  no  visitors. 
The  crew,  restless  from  their  long  stay  at  the  guns, 
watched  the  sun  drop  down  toward  the  horizon. 
It  would  soon  be  time  for  evening  chow. 
"Bogies  coming  in  ahead." 
In  the  turrets  the  men  atretcbed  out  on  the  deck 
tieside  the  guns  leaped  to  their,  statimts.  On  the 
20s  the  gunners  who  had  been  dozing  in  their  ■ 
harnesses  snapped  erect.  The  electric  motors 
whined.  The  gun  muzzles  arched  around,  sweep- 
ing the  target  area.  The  destroyer  shivered  as  the 
throbbing  engines  picked  up  speed.  The  seas 
began  to  curl  away  from  her  bow.  In  a  moment 
the  Newcombe  was  knifing  through  the  water  at 
better  than  25  knots. 

"Bogies  in  sight,  bearing  three  zero  zero." 
What  had  been  mere  specks  in  the  sky  grew 
suddenly  larger.  They  were  Japs,  all  right.  A 
whole  swarm  of  them.  One  detached  himself  from 
the  group  and  headed  for  the  Wctucombe.  The 
can's  heavy  guns  challenged  him.  Dirty  brown 
bursts  appeared  in  the  sky.  One  Jap  bore  through 
them,  jigging  from  side  to  side  as  he  tried  to  line 
up  the  ship  in  his  sights.  He  was  a  suidder,  de- 
liberately trying  to  crash  the  ship.  The  NeuHxmibe 
shook  as  her  40s  and  20s  joined  in.  Their  bullets 
hammered  into  the  Jap.  He  faltered,  lost  control 
and  splashed  into  the  sea  400  yards  away. 

Another  plane  trted  it  The  Netoeombe's  guns 
blazed  savagely.  The  second  plane  disappeared 
in  a  wall  of  ack-ack.  For  a  moment  the  gunners 
thought  they  had  him,  too.  Then  he  burst  into 
view,  much  closer.  A  yellow  flame  flickered  along 
his  left  wing.  He  was  starting  to  burn  out  but  still 
he  came  on.  Commander  Ira  McMillian  of  Coro- 
nado,  Calif.,  stood  on  the  wing  of  his  bridge,  eyes 
fastened  on  the  approachin^'plane.  At  the  last 
minute  he  shouted  an  order.  In  the  wheel  house 
the  quartermaster  spun  the  wheel.  The  speeding 
destroyer  heeled  over  in  a  sharp,  rivet-straining 
turn.  It  was  too  late  for  the  Jap  to  change  his 
coum.  Th&e  was  a  qplash  and  a  great  ball  of 
yellow  flame  as  he  plunged  into  the  sea  at  the  spot 
where  the  Newcomhe  had  been  a  moment  before. 

The  bogies  buzzed  warily  about  out  of  range, 
seeking  an  opening.  One  thought  he  saw  it.  Zoom- 
ing up.  be  made  a  quick  diving  turn,  levelled  out 
and  came  in  low,  the  belly  of  his  fuselage  a  few 
feet  above  the  waves.  The  iVeiocotnbe's  5-inch  bat- 
teries pointed.  A  burst  threw  the  Jap  down  against 
the  water.  He  staggered,  recovered  and  kept  com- 
ing, Comdr.  McMillian  barked  his  order  for  a 
change  in  the  course.  But  this  time  the  onrushing 
plane  swerved  freakishly  in  the  same  direction. 
For  an  instant  the  men  of  the  Newcombe  had  a 
glimpse  of  the  pilot  hunched  for«^c4i¥f  |}>t>c<^- 


The  USS  Newcombe  managed  to  bring  down  file  first  Jap  suicider 
and  to  dodge  the  second.  The  third  plan9  connected  and  left  the 
crippled  destroyer  easy  prey  for  two  more  hits.  With  all  power 
and  communjccrtions  knocked  ouf,  the  tin  can  still  survived. 


pit,  his  begoggled  face  an  impassive  mask.  Then 
the  plane  shot  past  them,  ripped  through  the  gun 
mount  and  shattered  itself  against  the  afterstack. 
There  was  a  blinding  flash.  The  Newcombe  shud- 
dered and  rolled  heavily  to  starboard. 

ON  Che  signal  bridge  Richard  Hiltbum  SM3c 
of  Tacoma,  Wash.,  was  flung  high  into  the 
air  by  the  explosion.  Before  he  landed  unhurt  on 
the  deck  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  bits  of  plane, 
guns  and  men  ^ing  in  aU  directions.  Wounded 
men  struggled  to  gain  their  feet  Others  lay  mo- 
tionless, already  beyond  help.  Escaping  steam 
roared  from  the  bioken  pipes.  But  the  Neiocombe 
had  been  hit  before.  The  rest  of  the  crew  re- 
mained on  station.  Up  in  the  wheel  house  the 
quartermaster  wrote  carefully  in  the  ship's  log: 
"Plane  hit  our  stack,  causing  damage  not  known 
at  present."  A  mile  behind  the  Newcombe  an- 
other ship  saw  the  flash  of  the  exploding  plane. 
Altering  her  course  she  started  for  the  scene  at 
full  speed. 

She  wasn't  the  only  one  who  saw  the  plane  hit 
the  Hemcombe.  One  of  the  bogies  noted  it  toa  He 
iMtnked  around  and  came  for  a  closer  look.  He 

probably  wasn't  expecting  much  opposition  but 
a  surprise  was  waiting  for  him.  The  Weu)co?ribe's 
guns  still  packed  a  punch.  The  startled  Jap  veered  . 
as  the  5-ineh  batteries  opened  up.  He  wasn't  quick 
enough.  The  burst  hit  him.  He  caught  fire.  His 
wing  dropped  off  and  he  spun  into  the  water. 

From  his  post  on  the  bridge  wing  Jesse  Fitz- 
gerald SMlc  noticed  the  ship's  photographer 
lying  helpless  on  the  platform  half  way  up  the 
undamaged  forward  stack.  Running  aft  he  climbed 
the  ladder  to  the  platform.  As  Fitzgerald  beat 
over  the  photographer,  the  Newcombe's  gunki ' 
-^started  again.  Whirling  around  he 


but  two  planes  attacking,  one  from  the  port  bow, 
the  other  from  the  port  quarter.  As  they  closed 
in,  the  guns  in  their  wings  started  winking.  The 
bullets  richocheted  from  the  laidge  and  whined 
around  Fitzgerald. 

Aboard  the  Newcombe  the  gunfire  rose  to  a 
crescendo.  Again  Comdr.  McMillian  tried  to  dodge 
at  the  last  minute  but  the  ship  had  lost  too  much 
speed.  The  planes  were  upon  her.  One  buried 
itself  in  the  base  of  Fitzgerald's  stack;  the  other 
dove  into  the  hole  made  by  the  firs^  suicider. 
There  was  a  tremendous  explosion.  A  giant  fist 
seemed  to  descend  upon  the  Nciucotnbe  and 
drive  her  down  into  the  water.  Men  and  gun 
tubes  alike  disappeared  skyward.  The  heavy  steel 
hatches  which  had  been  tightly  dogged  down  were 
blown  off  their  hinges,  twisted  like  sheet  metaL 
Engulfed  in  flame  and  billowing  black  smoke,  the 
Afeiucombe  lost  headway  and  slowly  came  to  a 
dead  stop  in  the  water,  all  her  power  and  com- 
munications knocked  out. 

Up  forward  the  dazed  men  picked  themselves 
up  and  stumbled  out  to  see  what  had  happened 
to  their  ship.  The  bridge  and  forward  portion  of 
the  Neu>combe  were  relatively  undamaged  but 
the  flame  and  smoke  amidships  hid  the  stern  from 
view  altogether.  Shielding  theii  faces  from  the 
searing  heat,  the  men  tried  to  peer  through  it  Was 
the  stem  stiU  there,  they  wondered.  There  was 
no  way  of  knowing.  "Stem  is  gone."  someone  cried 
and  many  men  believed  him. 

Signalman  Fitzgerald  had  ducked  at  the  last 
minute.  Miraculously  he  and.  the  wounded  photog- 
rapher were  untouched  by  the  explosion.  Looking 
down,  Fitzgerald  found  the  base  of  the  stack  sur- 
rounded by  burning  gasoline  and  wreckage  from 
!  cnt  cf  l.ie  planes.  Above  him  the  coils  of  wiring 
tt^i^^^whipped  about  crackling 


»n  bottle  ftomef  fHf^ 


ftk  of  the  carrier  Sarotogo.  hit  by  kam'ikaies  off  Iwo  Jima. 


and  spitting,  showering  the  decks  below  in  a 
cascade  of  blue  sparks.  Fitzgerald  took  his  man 
down  the  ladder  and  found  a  path  through  the 
buiaiiig  g/aaoSiae  to  the  forward  part  of  tbe  ship. 
He  applied  a  tourniquet  to  the  photographer's 
bleeding  leg  and  then  rushed  back  to  the  bridge 
to  help  put  out  the  fires  in  the  signal  flag  bags. 

Men  on  the  other  destroyer  had  seen  the  second 
and  third  planes  hit  the  Netocombe,  had  seen  her 
go  dead  in  the  water  half-hidden  in  the  clouds 
of  smoke.  As  the  distance  between  the  two  ships 
narrowed  they  could  make  out  figures  stumbling 
about  in  the  dense  smoke  that  covered  the  New- 
combe's  stern.  Other  figures  lay  along  her  star- 
board deck  waving  feebly,  too  badly  hurt  to  move. 
Into  the  smoke  went  the  other  destroyer. 

At  almost  collision  speed  she  swept  up  along- 
side the  Neiccombe.  There  was  a  grinding  crash 
as  the  two  ships  came  together.  The  men  jumped 
across  and  made  the  ships  fast.  Fire  hoses  were 
snaked  across  the  rails.  Powerful  streams  of  water 
leaped  trota  their  nozzles  and  drote  ^e  flames 
iMick  from  the  prostrate  men.  Rescue  parties 
rushed  in  and  dragged  them  to  safety. 

The  suicide  boys  were  not  through.  Another 
plane  was  roaring  in,  headed  straight  for  the 
Hevfeombe's  bridge.  Looking  up,  Josc^  Piolata 
Wllc,  of  Youngstown,  Ohio,  saw  the  other  de- 
stroyer firing  right  across  the  Neiocombe's  deck. 
The  gunners  did  their  best  but  the  Newcombe's 
superstructure  hid  the  plane  from  their  sights.  On 
both  ships  the  men  watched  he^lessly.  This  was 
the  kiU.  The  Newotnbe  could  never  survive  an- 
other hit. 

But  the  battered,  burning  can  still  had  fighi  m 
her.  Incredulously  the  men  of  the  IVeti'Combe, 
crouched  on  her  stem,  struggling  in  the  water, 
lying  wounded  on  the  deck  Ig^rd  their  ^hip's  for- . 


ward  batteries  firing.  There  was  no  power  but 
the  gunners  were  firing  anyway — by  hand. 

The  gunnery  officer  stood  at  his  station  shouting 
the  range  data  to  the  men  in  the  isuwmd  S^baih 
turrets,  in  the  No.  2  turret  Arthur  McGulre 
GMlc,  of  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  rammed  shells  with 
broken,  bleeding  fingers.  His  hand  had  been  caught 
by  a  hot  shell  while  firing  at  the  third  plane  but 
be  was  stiU  on  the  joik  The  Japi  had  the  New- 
combos  bridge  in  his  sights.  It  looked  as  if  he  , 
couldn't  miss.  The  burst  from  McGuire's  gun 
caught  him  and  blew  him  sideways.  The  hurtling 
plane  missed  the  bridge  by  a  scant  eight  feet, 
skidded  across  the  Newcombe's  ruptured  deck  and 
plowed  into  the  other  destroyer. 

With  a  gaping  hole  in  the  afterdeck  and  the 
portside  a  tangled  web  of  broken  lines  and  wildly 
sprouting  fire  hoses,  she  drifted  slowly  away. 

WrmouT  water  to  fight  the  fire  still  raging 
amidships  the  Newcombe  was  doorned.  But 
the  destroyer's  crew  eontained  some  notoriously 
obstinate  people.  Donald  Keeler  MM2c,  of  Dan- 
bury,  Conn.,  was  one  of  them.  Keeler  had  been 
at  his  station  in  the  after  steering  compartment. 
He  was  knocked  down  by  the  explosions  but  got 
up  and  put  the  Mp  in  manual  controL  When  it 
became  evident  that  all  the  power  was  gone  he 
joined  the  crowd  on  the  stern  just  in  time  to  hear 
that  the  after  ammo-handling  rooms  were  burn- 
ing and  the  magazines  were  expected  to  go  any 
minute. 

Keeler  elected- to  fight  the  fire.  His  only  hope 
lay  in  the  "handy  billy."  a  small,  portable  pump 
powered  by  a  gasoline  engine.  "The  engine  was 
started  like  an  outboard  motor — by  winding  a 


It  started,  and  then  again  sometimes  it  didn't. 

Groping  around  in  the  blistering  heat,  Keeler 
found  the  handy  billy.  Carefully  he  wound  the 
rope  around  the  flywheel,  held  his  breath  and 
yanked.  The  engine  kicked  over  and  kept  going 
Now  Keeler  had  water.  He  and  Don;iid  n^.  r 

WTlc,  of  Portland,  Oreg.,  took  the  hose  in  tlie 
No.  4  handling  room  and  went  to  work  on 
the  fire.  Malcom  Giles  MM3c,  of  San  Jose,  Calif., 
and  Lt  David  Owens,  of  Waukesha,  Wis.,  joined 
them.  The  four  men  got  the  fire  under  control. 
Then  they  dragged  the  pump  forward. 

The  No.  3  handling  room  was  a  roaring  furnace. 
Steel  dripped  like  solder  from  overhead.  In  the 
galley  next  door  the  heat  had  already  trans- 
formed tiie  copper  kettles  into  pools  of  molten 
metaL  Flames  shot  from  the  ammo  hoists  like 
the  blast  of  a  huge  blowtorch.  It  looked  hope- 
less but  Newcomer  shoved  the  hose  in  the  door- 
way. No  sooner  had  he  done  so  than  a  wave  came 
overside  and  doused  the  pump.  The  chattering 
handy  billy  splutter^  and  died.  Keeler  rushed 
back  to  the  pump.  Again  he  wound  the  rope 
around  the  flywheel,  gritted  his  teeth  and  yanked. 
"I  think  I  even  prayed  that  second  time,"  he 
says.  "But  Uw  dUBB  i^lng  poMPfd  rig^  off,  some- 
thing it  wouldn't  do  agidn  in  a,  iniwea  yean." 

The  men  went  back  into  tite  lindling  room. 
They  kept  the  hose  in  therey  t)4E&i8'  turns.  The 
magazines  didn't  blow  up. 

VpHMTward  the  saUofB  w«*  todM  to  flcht  tlit 
Are  with  hand  extfaigulshen.  A  withering  blast 
of  heat  drove  them  back.  Their  life  jackets  smok- 
ing: their  clothing  was  afire.  The  Newcombe's  doc- 
tor. Lt.  John  McNeil  of  Boston,  Mass.,  and  Edward 
Redding  QM3c,  found  one  of  the  crew  battUag^ttB 
flames  with  hair  ablaze,  half  blind  from  Uie  blood 
dripping  from  the  shrapnel  wounds  in  his  face 
and  forehead.  With  difficulty  they  dragged  him 
off  to  the  emergency  dressing  station  in  the  ward- 
room. Many  of  the  pharmacist's  mates  were  0H|. 
of  action.  Men  with  only  first-aid  training  helpief ' 
McNeil, mix  blood  plasma  for  the  burn  cases. 

Earl  Sayre  CPhM,  of  Roseville,  Ohio,  was 
trapped  on  the  stern  unable  to  get  his  casualties 
forward.  He  was  working  on  a  fracture  when 
.someone  tugged  on  his  sleeve.  "Blue  Eyes  has 
been  hit  bad.  Looks  like  he's  bleeding  to  death." 

Blue  Eyes  was  the  youngest  member  of  the 
crew.  He  had  come  aboard  claiming  18  years  but 
the  men  had  taken  one  look  at  him  and  decided 
he  must  have  lied  to  get  in.  They  teased  him  by 
calling  him  Blue  Eyes  and  it  became  his  name. 
Now  he  lay  on  ^  dcdc,  blood  aputting  from  « 
vein  in  his  neck.  Sayre  h^d  no  instruments.  He 
knelt  down  beside  Blue  Eyes  and  stopped  the  flow 
of  blood  with  his  fingers.  He  stayed  there  while 
a  second  plane  came  in  and  hit  the  other  de- 
stn^er  20  feet  away.  He  stayed  thin«  tar  almoat 
an  hour  longer  until  they  could  come  and  take 
Blue  Eyes  away  and  operate  on  him  and  ssrve 
his  life.  But  Sayre  had  saved  it  already. 

The  resf  of  the  Japs  had  been  driven  off.  It  was 
beginning  to  get  dark  whiea  a  ray  of  hope  came  to 
the  exhausted  men  of  the  NetOcombe.  Keeler's 
volunteer  fire  department  seemed  to  be  holding  the 
Ares.  Perhaps  now  they  could  save  their  ship.  But 
the  wave  that  had  stopped  the  handy  billy  was 
followed  by  another  and  another. 

The  Newcombe  was  sinking.  The  weight  of  the 
water  that  the  hoses  had  poured  into  her  after 
compartments  was  dragging  her  down.  The  rising 
water  moved  steadily  forward.  It  reached  the 
after  bulkhead  of  the  forward  engine  room.  If  it 
broke  through,  the  JVewcombe  was  done  for.  And 
the  bulkhead  already  was  leaking. 

Back  on  the  stern  Lt.  Charles  Gedge  of  Detroit, 
Mich.,  and  torpedomen  Richard  Mehan  of  Verona, 
N.  J.,  Richard  Spencer  of  Roddick,  Pa.,  and  Joseph 
Zablotny  of  Boswell,  Pa.,  had  neutralized  the 
depth  charges  and  dumped  them  overside.  After 
them  went  the  wreckage,  smaidied  equij^nent, 
anything  that  would  Ii|^ten  the  stem. 

In  the  forward  engine  room  the  damage  control 
party  shored  up  the  bulging  bulkhead.  Water 
oozed  from  it  but  it  held.  With  less  than  one  foot 
(tf  free  board  betwe^  aea  uid  her  declo,  .the 
Nevoeombe  Stopped  sinking. 

Now  the  blinkers  flashed  in  the  darkness.  Other 
destroyers  were  coming  alongside.  Over  their  rails 
came  men  with  fire  hoses  and  pump  lines,  doctors 
and  pharmacist's  mates  with  plasma  and  t>and- 
ages.  Tugs  were  on  the  way.  The  fight  was  over. 

The  Newcombe's  men  had  answered  the  ques- 
tion: just  how  much  punishment  can  a  destroyer 
take?  The  'answer  was:  just  as  much  as  any  gang 


4 


rope  around  the  flywheel  and  giving  it  a  <|uif^|-i  |  |^^.|^«^~«fa|r|  dish  out,  provided  her  crew  never 
ti^g^  I^i^e,aU  ojt^^rd  motor  engines  sometimes"  .  stops  trying  to  save.  her. 


ines  sometimes^    stops  Ixying  to  save  he 


Red  Army  troops  in  Austria  have 
come  from  a  devastated  land  and 
they're  bitter  about  the  German 
farms  still  untouched  by  war. 

By  Pfc.  IRA  H.  FREEMAN 
YANK  SlafF  Correspondent 

KoEKLACH.  Austria  —  "I  can't  got  any  placi- 
with  thcst»  Russians,",  the  captain  in  charge 
i)f  the  last  British  outpost  here  said  with 
a  sigh.  "When  I  go  to  sec  them  about  over-ex- 
tending their  zone,  for  instance,  they  won't  pay 
any  attention  to  business. 

"They  throw  their  arms  around  you  and  drag 
you  in  for  a  drink  Toasts  are  proposed  in  a 
language  you  can't  understand  at  all,  but  the 
vodka  starts  flowing,  and  in  a  little  while  what 
you  came  for  just  fades  away. 

"I  won't  drink  with  them  anymore.  But  1  don't 
seem  to  have  much  greater  success  anyway." 

There  were  two  road  blocks  on  the  main  high- 
way to  Graz,  the  large  Austrian  city  held  by  the 
Russians.  One  was  set  up  here  at  Koefiach  by  a 
company  of  London  Irish  Rifles,  witli  armored 
support  at  the  limit  of  the  British  zone  of  occu- 
pation; the  other,  a  double  gate,  was  maintained 
by  a  Russian  unit  at  Voitsberg. 

The  road  blocks  were  erecti'd  soon  after  the 
junction  of  the  British  Eighth  Army  with  the 
Third  Ukrainian  Army  of  Marshal  Feodor  Tol- 
bukhin  In  between  were  two  miles  of  "no-man's 
land,  "  where  there  were  no  troops  at  all. 

At  the  Russian  barrier,  a  lone  sentry  waved 
vehicles  to  a  stop  with  a  little  square  red  flag, 
like  a  danger  flag.  The  sentry  was  one  of  those 
spare,  grizzled  riflemen  we  saw  often  among  the 
Red  troops  here,  a  man  about  50  with  a  large, 
drooping  mustache  These  older  soldiers  stood 
guard,  or  directed  traffic  with  semaphore  flags, 
oi  drew  housekeeping  details  at  billets 

Even  these  middle-aged  soldiers  looked  rugged, 
with  the  ruggedness  that  comes  of  hard  labor 
rather  than  athlete  training 

With  considerable  yelling  in  Russian,  the  road 
guard  passed  us  on  to  a  colonel  in  blui"  ridmg 
breeches  (other  officers  and  enlisted  men  wore 
khaki),  who  ushered  us  into  a  farmhouse  the 
unit  had  requisitioned 

We  were  seated  at  a  cloth-covered  table  and 
the  colonel  said  to  us   '.s-c'iiinpp.s,  Rusjtfci."  A  KP 


Ha 


 — ^ 


■r 


with  a  big  white  apron  over  his  uniform  began 
loading  the  table  with  chow  and  liquor.  He 
clicked  his  heels  and  stood  at  attention  each  time 
he  put  down  a  plate. 

We  ate  good  Russian  rye  broad,  sweet  butter, 
salami  and  a  kind  of  plain  cookie.  The  vodka 
was  served  separately  by  a  young  officer,  who 
got  bawled  out  by  the  colonel  be<'ause  the  first 
round  wasn't  good  enough;  after  that  he  put  out 
swell,  smooth,  powerful  stulT. 

True  to  the  reputation  of  the  Russian  Army, 
the  colonel  and  four  or  five  officers  surrounded 
us  for  the  wet  welcome  all  foreigners  apparently 
must  undergo.  The  lieutenant  kept  filling  our 
three-ounce  glasses  with  vodka.  Each  shot  was 
chased  by  a  goblet  of  Austrian  beer  and  a 
tumbler  of  excellent  white  wine  from  Sevastopol, 
in  the  Crimea.  We  got  none  of  the  champagne 
and  caviar  the  Red  Army  is  supposed  to  live  on. 

The  colonel  said  he  was  from  Sibirsk  in 
Siberia.  There  were  also  Ukrainian  and  Don 
Cossack  units  in  this  part  of  Austria.  This  unit 
was  a  guards  infantry  regiment. 

In  contrast  to  the  enlisted  men  and  some  low- 
er-ranking officers  we  saw  later,  these  Rus- 
sians were  well-dressed.  The  colonel  was  so 
anxious  to  make  a  good  appearance  that  he 
slipped  away  for  a  quick  shave. 

The  Russians  expressed  pleasure  that  Hitler 


and  Mussolini  were  dead,  regret  that  Roosevelt 
and  Willkie  were  also  dead.  They  mentioned 
Rockefeller  and  the  Standard  Oil  Company. 
Morgan,  Hoover,  Dewey,  Ford  and  Paul  Robeson, 
the  Negro  baritone  whose  son  was  brought  up  in 
the  Soviet  Union;  apparently  they  wanted  to 
show  they  knew  something  of  current  history  in 
the  States.  With  one  exception,  the  Russians  we 
met  in  thiS  area  seemed  very  enthusiastic  about 
Americans. 

One  Reil  Army  man  who  spoke  German  said 
America  had  given  the  Ked  Army  7,UUU  Airaco- 
bras,  5,000  tanks,  10,000  other  vehicles  and  mil- 
lions of  boots,  all  of  which  "vas  gut,  gut," 

The  Russian  officers  and  enlisted  men  wore 
their  medals  all  the  time,  not  just  the  ribbons. 
Nowhere  could  you  see  an  undecorated  officer, 
and  most  of  the  EM  had  medals  too. 

The  Russian  medals  are  five-pointed  stars  in 
red  enamel,  with  the  profile  of  Lenin  or  Suvorov 
or  whomever  the  order  is  named  for  engraved 
in  the  center.  The  colonel  had  six. 

The  colonel  gave  us  a  pass  to  go  through  nu- 
merous road  guards  on  our  way  to  Graz,  where 
we  hoped  to  get  permission  to  continue  to  Vien- 
na and  pick  up  a  Red  Army  interpreter.  The 
pass  was  not  necessary;  the  sentries,  seeing  the 
white  star  on  the  hood  of  our  jeep,  snapped  to 
attention  and  saluted  as  we  roared  by. 


ON  the  way  we  stopped  at  a  small  Russian 
bivouac  to  change  a  tire.  A  Red  GI  mechanic 
provided  tools  and  pitched  in  to  help  without 
being  asked.  We  walked  through  his  bivouac 
in  a  large  yard  behind  a  house.  The  canvas  shel- 
ters looked  flimsy,  inferior  to  our  shelter  halves. 

Gear  was  scattered  over  the  area,  and  food  lay 
uncovered  in  the  warm  air.  Apparently  Russian 
GIs  don't  have  to  police  the  area  as  much  as 
American  GIs 

The  iiiechani<-  was  working  in  his  regular 
khukis,  which,  of  course,  were  begrimed  with 
automobile  grease.  We  noticed  no  fatigues. 

All  the  Austrians  we  met  were  terrified  of  the 
Russians  occupying  the  country  and  they  told 
horror  tales  about  Russian  ofTenses  against  ci- 
vilians. But  British  PWs  who  had  been  liberated 
by  the  Russians  said  the  Red  MPs  maintained 
strict  discipline  among  Soviet  troops  and  added 
that  the  Russians  treated  them  and  the  American 
PWs  fine;  "couldn't  do  enough  for  us,  I'd  say." 

Graz  had  been  fairly  well  worked  over  by  Al- 
lied bombers,  but  was  not  too  badly  wrecked. 
As  we  drove  around,  looking  for  HQ,  an  Austrian 
woman  ran  to  the  jeep,  crying  in  English: 

"Americans?  Thank  God,  you  have  come!  The 
Americans  will  come  to  Graz?  The  RuMki 
will  go?" 

A  Russian  girl  traffic  cop  directed  us  to  the 


YANK,  rW  Awmy  Wmakly,  pwtfkofioM  hmtmd  WMfefy  by  BroiKh  OMn,  laforinflf ran  4  fdvcotron  DiWiion,  Wof  D^partmmM,  70S  SatI  4M  Strtt,  Mmw  Ymfh  17,  M.  V.  Rvprodwcf ion  righit  ravfrkfad  o«  iiWi'lu*irf  m  tiML 
■MSllbMd  on  thm  adfforM  pof.  iKtmtd  «  axwid  clou  nraHar  My  t,  1942,  at  tin  PoX  OMc*  or  Nrw  York,  N.  T.,  iimdmr  Iht  Art  ol  Marrtt  t,  It7f.  Micriplian  pri(«  SI.M  yMrly.  PrrMad  in  tl—  U.  i.  A. 


Original  from 
UNIVERSITY  OF  MICHIGAN 


YANK  Thm  Army  Wmmkly  •  JULY  13,  1945 


KommandatHT  in  the  city  hall  on  the  main  platz 
at  the  town.  Those  female  MPs  must  have  been 
eUouAed  \)y  the  Red  Army  personnel  section 
for  their  eflSciency  They  certainly  were  no 
pin-ups— short  and  dumpy,  with  huge  busts.  The 
^Is  packed  autoautia  aaHu^Mpa  and  tmded 
strictly  to  business.  The  male  MPs,  even  those 
dvecting  traffic,  carried  rl^es  on  their  backs. 

The  center  of  the  main  platz  was  full  of  Red 
Army  vehicles,  mostly  GI  jeeps  and  trucks  we 
had  sent  to  Russia  on  lend-lease. 

fttrpis  varying  from  a  squad  to  a  platoon  in 
size  were  marching  through  the  streets  of  Graz, 
armed  with  rifles  and  tommy  guns.  The  men 
carried  their  weapons  at  sling  arms,  even  when 
marching  in  close  order  at  attention,  and  they 
were  singing,  just  as  they  do  in  the  newsreels. 
Singing  made  it  unnecessary,  as  well. as  impos- 
sible, to  count  cadence. 

They  sang  in  harmony,  not  all  on  Jthe  lead,  as 
American  troops  do  on  the  rare  occasions  when 
they  sing  at  all.  The  tenors  and  typically  Rus- 
sian baritones  could  be  heard  giving  out  with 
their  different  parte.  When  a  patrol  had  to  i»use 
to  let  cross  traffic  by,  the  men  marked  time  and 
kept  singing. 

"Russki  never  sleep,"  several  Austrian  families 
in  a  village  outside  Graz  protested.  "They  march 
on  the  roads  all  night  past  our  wiiuiowa,  singing 
at  the  top  of  their  lungs.  ITiey  do  it  iwA  to  keep 
HB  awake  and  scared." 

.And  liriving  through  the  eotmtryride  at  11 

Sock  at  night,  we  passed  a  company  tramping 
highway  and  shouting  their  Slavonic  tunes, 
-fiut  the  Red  Army  had  the  singing  habit  years 
liefore  it  reached  Austria. 

Sometimes  they  made  whoopee  that  kept  the 
neighbors  up;  once  some  Cossacks  climbed  on 
Jjtmr  horses  with  a  bottle  or  two  and  rode  around 
■Hm  edges  of  Koeflach  Aring  into  the  air. 

The  entrance  to  the  ornate  City  Hall  at  Graz 
was  blocked  by  a  large  group  of  Russian  GIs 
hanging  around,  some  lying  on  the  sidewalk  in 
the  doorway,  apparently  awaiting  a  formation. 
They  looked  shabby  by  our  standards,  p«iia^ 
because  their  blouse  Witt  so  tUll  and  ima 
gathered  loosely  at  the  waist  by  a  gtcthm  belt, 


and  because  of  the  baggy  pants  and  spiral  puttees. 

But  the  Red  Army  had  come  1,700  miles  cross- 
country from  Stalingrad  to  Berlin,  fighting  for 
every  inch;  'you  would  not  expect  much  spit- 
and-polish  on  the  Russian  soldier  in  Naziland 
right  after  VE-Day. 

The  sentry  on  duty  at  tlie  Xommandatwr  di- 
rected us  to  the  second  floor.  Outside  the  office 
of  the  town  commander  it  was  the  usual  mad- 
house found  in  military  government  offices  dur- 
ing the  first  hectic  weeks  of  any  Allied  oeem>a- 
tion.  Red 'Army  officers  were  buttling  in  and  out, 
while  a  lot  of  bewildered  civilians  wandered 
about  waving  applications  and  permits.  Other 
civilians,  who  had  apparently  given  up,  were 
sitting  dejectedly  on  benches  around  the  walls. 

A  couple  of  young  Austrians  who  wore  red 
arm  bands  were  dofng  liaison  work.  In  spite  of 
their  nervous  ineffieiency  we  got  in  to  the  town 
commander,  a  major  general. 

THE  general .  was  the  only  fat  man  we  saw 
among  the  Red  troops.  He  was  enormous.  He 
ramA  have  weighed  250  poundis,  a  huge  barrel  of 
a  man  about  60  years  old.  His  big,  round  head 
was  entirely  bald,  not  one  hair  even  at  the 
temples.  He  chain-smoked  Jerry  cigarettes  and 
gave  frequent  grunts  as  he  listened  to  our  story. 
He  had  the  biggest  collection  of  fruit  salad  of 
any  Russian  officer  we  saw. 

Unlike  the  Russians  we  met  earlier,  the  gen- 
eral did  not  welcome  iis  with  embraoes  and 
vodka.  While  we  were  explaining  what  we  want- 
ed, the  general  closed  one  eye  and  bored  a  hole 
through  us  with  the  other. 

In  the  end,  we  did  not  get  clearance  to  Vienna 
or  anywhere  else  in  Russian  bands.  We  got  the 
bum's  rush  back  where  we  came  from,  the  Britidt 
lines  at  Koeflach. 

As  we  left  Graz  a  small  parade  of  Ukrainians 
headed  by  a  band  passed  through  the  platz.  Most 
of  the  men  in  line  were  infantry,  many  with  the 
shaven  head  characteristic  of  the  Russian  soldier. 

Their  rifles  ^ere  bolt-action,  the  metal  parts 
finished  aiclcel4ttight  rather  than  gun'-blved. 
Contrary  to  stories  yoo  used  to  hear,  the  bayonets 
were  not  welded  to  &tK  muszle  to  iet^  the  men 


from  using  the  blade  as  can  openos.  The  bay- 
onets were  removable. 

Some  of  the  infantrymen  carried  tommy  guns, 
said  to  be  their  favorite  weapon.  Their  guns  had 
drum  clips  and  looked  heavy. 

The  Rui^ans  use  a-lot  awre  horses  titan  we 
do.  In  ihe  parade  there  were  cavalrymen  wear- 
ing high  leather  boots,  followed  by  horse-drawn 
antitank  guns.  There  were  some  .30-calibei, 
water-jacketed  machine  guns,  similar  to  the  Brit- 
ish Vickers  of  the  same  size,  but  these  weapons 
were  mounted  on  heavy  steel  two- wheeled  car- 
riages instead  of  the  tripod  the  British  and 
American  armies  use. 

"We've  got  to  run  out  to  see  our  Russian  friends 
again,"  the  British  captain  in  charge  of  the 
Koeflach  outpost  said  the  next  day.  "They  came 
over  the  mountains  during  the  night  and  put  up 
a  new  barrier  that  seems  to  be  three  miles  within 
our  zone.'* 

The  British  jeeps  and  two  light  tanks  \ound 
the  new  Red  barrier  on  a  secondary  road  at  St. 
Martin,  a  hamlet  near  Koeflach  A  hard-bitten 
Cossack  cavalry  platoon  had  set  it  up  and  had 
moved  into  a  farmhouse  there.  The  British  got 
the  usual  noisy  welcome,  and  the  Russians 
crowded  around. 

"No.  no,  thank  you,  no  schjiapps,"  the  captain 
insistecl.  "Why  have  you  set  up  this  road  block?" 

When  this  was  translated  into  German  for  the 
Cossack  major,  who  knew  only  a  little  of  that 
language,  he  'said  firmly,  "mein  posto,  metK 
posta."  And  he  turned  to  show  the  British  his 
equipment  and  to  examine  the  British  tanks. 
While  the  fruitless  conference  was  going  on.  the 
tiausfrau  came  up,  weeping  because  the  Russian 
horses  were  grasing  in' her  crops. 

The  little,  dark-skinned  Cossack  major  howled 
at  the  horses  to  startle  them  out  of  the  field.  Then 
he  hammered  the  air  with  his  fists: 

"German  bomb,  bomb,  bomb  .  .  .  Dnepropet- 
rovsk kaput  .  .  .  bomb,  bomb,  bomb.  .  .  .  Rostov 
kaput  .  .  .  Sevastopol  (caput,  Stalingrad  (caput, 
iFieningrad  (caput  .  .  .  houses  gone,  farm  gone, 
peoi^  Ie  gone  .  . 

Ife  lodked  angrily  at  the  umlamaged  Austrian 


The  Mw  Jttwiih  RMiyor  appeintwi  by 
MO  got  is  knttw  fha  OwiMnslM  now 

governs  from  the  very  intimate  per- 
spective of  Nazi  concentration  camps. 

By  Sgt.  HARRY  SIGNS 
YANK  StafF  Correspondent 

EmnnasN,  Gbimany— Fritz  Israel  Strauss,  the 
BtteryemeUter  of  EtUingen,  walked  across 
his  private  chambers  in  the  Rathous  to  the 
windows  overlooking  the  town  square.  He  stared 
■down  for  a  moment,  then  turned  around. 

"Yesterday,"  he  said,  "a  man  shook  my  hand 
in  the  square,  an  important  man  in  the  town,  the 
owner  of  a  large  clothing  store.  Two  months  ago, 
if  he  had  seen  me,  he  would  have  reported  me  to 
the  Gestapo;  he  would  have  sent  me  to  my  death. 
Today  I  am  his  Buergefmeister,  and  he  shakes 
my  hand.  A  strange  business,  eh?" 

He  walked  back  to  his  handsome  oak  official 
chair  and  sat  down,  a  iriiort,  stocky,  egg-bald 
mah  with  a  pugnacious  jaw  and  a  bladi  mustache 
flecked  with  grey.  He  looked  older  than  his  42 
years;  "twelve  years  playing  hide-and-seek  with 
the  Gestapo  ages  a  man,"  he  said.  He  was  hard- 
boiled  and  aggressive  and  he  talked  with  the 
concentrated  vigor  of  a  man  who  had  waited  a 
long  time  to  get  something  off  his  chest  He  rested 
his  hands  palm-down  on  his  desk.  "It's  a  strange 
business,"  he  repeated.  "Like  a  strange  dream  " 
Ettlingen  is  an  industrial  town  of  12,000  popu- 
lation, a  dozen  miles  from  Karlsruhe,  the  ca^tal 
of  Baden  in  southern  Germany,  tiench  tro(^ 
of  the  Seventh  Army  swept  into  the  town  on 
April  16,  and  Strauss  "got  out  of  his  hole"  in  the 
cellar  of  a  farmhouse  where  he  had  been  hiding 
for  three  months  before  the  town's  capture. 
French  Military  Government  officials  at  once 
offered  iiim  the  job  of  Buer germeister,  or  mayor. 

'Relieve,  me,  I  didn't  want  the  job,"  he  said, 
"lliree  times  they  asked  me  to  take  it.  Twice  I 
refused.  The  third  time  I  accepted.  Perhaps  it  is 
a  duty  I  owe — not  to  them,"  and  he  gestured  with 
contempt  toward  the  window,'  "but  to  the  dead  of 
tlie  concentration  camps,  and  the  half-da«d  Wlio 
were  left  behind  there." 
Ettlingen  was  under  fire  for  four  days  before 
JVa  capture,  but  the  French  "aim  must  have  been 
poor,"  because  there  was  little  damage.  Most  of 
^  was  in  the  wMicers'  Uving.wnla&.Oadng  the 
^ffew  days  of  occupation  there  was  some  looting 
by  the  troops,  a  couple  of  rapes  and  a  few  other 
excesses — "a  small  measure  of  repayment  for 
what  the  V/ehrmacht  did  to  France."  The  French 
MG  officers  were  highly  cooperative  and  they 
escorted  Strauss  to  his  office,  opened  a  bottle  of 
wine  and  said:  "The  town's  problems  are  in  your 
bands.  Get  to  work." 

He  got  to  work.  The  first  thing  he  did  was 
"clean  out  the  vermin" — fire  immediately  the  50 
party  men  who  had  worked  in  the  town  govern- 
ment and  public  services.  He  appointed  a  new 
City  Gmiacjl  of  Ave:  one  Gonmunist,  one  Social- 
ist, Ote  Sodial  Democrat  and  two  Catholic  Party 
men  (there  were  two  Catholics  appointed  to  the 
Council  because  Ettlingen  is  more  than  75  percent 
Catholic)  and  appointed  each  man  head  of  a 
department:  health,  utilities,  food  supply,  labor 
supply  and  housing. 

He  located  Nazi  party  men  from  lists  found  by 
&e  116  and  organized  Nazi  work  squads  to  dig 
graves  for  the  French  and  Germans  who  had  been 
killed  in  the  fighting  in  and  around  Ettlingen;  he 
made  them  clean  the  debris  from  the  streets  and 
do  other  emergency  labor. 

IN  LESS  than  two  weeks  the  town's  water  aiid 
electricity  and  other  public  utilities  were  func- 
tioning normally.  For  awhile  there  was  a  food 
shortage;  the  mayor  requisitioned  six  trucks  to 
get  food,  and  especially  potatoes,  from  the  farm- 
ers to  feed  the  12,000  regular  population,  the 
4,000  bombed-out  refugees  and  the  1,000  French 
troops  stationed  around  £ttlhigen.  He  helped 
UNRRA  officials,  who  were  operating  camj^  for 
the  3,500  displaced  persons  Who  had  been  slave 
labor  In  Ettliagen's  industrial  plants  during  the 
.war. 

The  schools  had  been  closed;  he  obtained  p>er- 
mission  to  open  them  three  days  a  week,  "not  only 
for  the  sake  of  religion,  but  to  take  the  children 
off  their  mothers'  hands."  The  Council  organized 
work-groups  of  children  from  U  to  14  years  old 
to  kill  potato  bugs—a  great  danger  to  the  crop 

MOf  « 


YANK  Tto  anmf  WMUy  •  JUIV  19,  IMS 


year — and  groups  of  14-to- 16-year-olds  to 
'Work  on' farms  and  in  forests  and  to  collect  loose 
'Vamunition  and  firearms.  Each  of  the  work 
^flroupa  was  put  under  the  leadership  of  boys  care- 
ndly  picked  from  trusted  Catholic  and  Socialist 
families. 

The  town's  industries — paper  and  cellulose 
.aiiUs,  machine-tool  plants  and  iron-worlcs — were 
so  they  would  be  ready  to  operate  wlien 
railroads  were  running.  All  property 
bad  been  owned  by  the  Nazis  was  put  in  trus- 
teeship, and  the  mayor  recommended  that  it  be 
turned  over  to  those  who  had  been  robbed  and 
persecuted  by  the  Nazis,  or  to  their  families. 

TBXir  renamed  the  Nazi  streets:  Adoi/  Hitler 
Stranc  was  diaafed  to  Heiiiricli  HeiM  Strassc; 
Bsrst  Wessel  Stnuse  became  KiemoeUer  Strasse. 

Other  streets  were  renamed  for  left  wing  Party 
men,  workers  and  Catholics  who  had  been  mur- 
dered by  the  Gestapo  or  SS.  All  party  IxMks  and 
panqihlel*  wm  takmlbsn  the  adimlib  IttwariM* 

dunpL 

■Vc  did'  not  bum  them,  iMeawft  in  ^w^Btt^ 
Strauss  said. 

Now  the  stores  are  open  and  life  la  iioniial»  as 
normal  as  life  in  any  German  town  ean  be  afteit 
12  yeai^  of  Hitlerism. 

Tlie  mayor  paused  and  hxdced  hnid  lor  » 
Aeeaent  "You  are  thbiUng  I  am  wen  pliNfsed 
with  myself,  that  I  am  saying:  The  work  is  done; 
the  Nazis  are  driven  out,  the  people  are  repentant, 
the  streets  have  been  renamed,  and  now  we  can 
start  a  fresh  new  life.'  You  are  wrong.  I'm  not 
fooled.  All  this  work  could  be  undone  in  ttie  time 
it  talus  to  nail  up  a  new  street  sign." 

He  smiled  bitterly. 

"A  friend  of  R»ine  came  to  see  me  when  I 
assumed  oflSce  and  said  'Fritz,  why  do  you  retain 
your  middle  name  Israel,  which  was  a  badge  of 
shame  under  the  Nazis?'  and  I  told  him  it  helps 
me  refresh  my  memory." 

He  Ut  a  Cheeterfleld  and  pulled  furioudy.  "For 
11  years  Fve  hated  the  Germans.  During  these 
patt  five  weelcs,  I've  learned  to  deepise  thwu.  You 


sec  these  people  walking  in  our  streets?  A 
pleasant  people;  men  smoking  their  pipes  on  the 
street  comers,  women  going  to  mwlEet  liolding 
their  little  girls  by  the  hand  A  pleasant,  friendly 
people — and  all  rotten  in.side. 

"They  come  to  me  at  strange  hours  with  their 
tales,  late  at  night,  when  no  one  is  watching.  The 
other  night  one  man  came  to  me  and  whispered: 
'D6  you  remember  wtien  Hugo  Leichteiler,  the 
Socialist  leader,  was  denounecd  to  the  CScstiqio? 
Hans  Mwdlir  lethenan.'  Tbay  betray  each  ottier, 
these  Genaan^tfa^r  balnqr  their  nation  and  their 
Christ" 

He  banged  his  fist  on  the  desk.  "There  is  one 
language  Nazis  understand:  the  fist  in  the  face. 
There  is  one  hope:  hard  ceaseless  work.  I  would 
take  all  the  9,000,000  party  members  and  send 
them  to  Russia,  France,  Poland — to  all  the  coun- 
tries they  destroyed — and  force  them  to  rebuild 
for  as  long  as  20  years.  You  must  teach  Nazis 
that  they  are  a  defeated  people;  you  must  jam 
their  defeat  down  their  throats." 

Re  paused.  It  is  not  a  question  of  revenge.  We 
who  have  suffered  from  the  Naiia  are  bejrond 
thoughts  of  revenge.  II  is  a  question  of  savhlg  the 
world  from  another  war. 

"You  Allies  do  not  understand  the  Germans. 
You  are  too  soft  You  hire  'experts'  who  are  Party 
men  to  work  in  the  Military  Government  offices. 
These  experts  recommend  other  Nazis.  Soon  you 
luve  a  ring  of  Nazis  in  the  MG  offices,  in  wlUcfa 
each  man  vouches  for  the  others  and  makes  alibis. 
In  Karlsruhe  the  French  appointed  a  finance 
commissioner  who  was  a  Party  man  from  1031; 
in  otiier  placet  even  SS  men  iMcame  MG  pohMi." 


,He  looked  at  us.  "You  come  from  a  naition 
where  decency  and  honor  are  accepted  like  the 
air  you  breathe  and  the  water  you  drinlL  But 
moet  of  tile  Germans  Itave  lost  their  sense  of 
honmr;  even  their  capacity  for  guilt.  You  have 
seen  the  posters  of  the  concentration  camps  all 
over  our  town?  The  people  look  at  Stem  as  if  theae 
camps  were  in  another  world. 

"The  non-Party  man  blames  the  Party;  the 
Nazis  blame  the  SS;  the  SS  blames  the  higher 
officers;  and  the  higher  officers  blame  Hitler,  who 
is  dead  or  escaped.  But  I  tell  you  they  are  all 
guilty,  all  except  the  few  decent  ones  who  are 
left  In  Ettlingen  I  could  point  the  decent  ones 
out,  one  by  one;  the  handful  of  workers,  Social- 
ists. Communis^,  Catholics  and  tlie  priests  who 
remained  faithful  to  their  trust 

*%ven  many  of.  the  men  who  wet*  in  ofllGe 
before  "33  have  learned  nothing.  They  took  pen- 
sions from  the  Nazis,  and  lived  their  small 
shrunlcen  lives  in  fear.  They  are  banlmipt'  toa" 
Bwr  Strmss  was  bom  in  Freiburg,  Baden.  His 
febgie  lived  in  Baden  for  more  than  1,000  years; 
"^eW  roots  are  as  deep  in  the  land  as  the  trees  of 
onir  Black  Forest."  He  grew  up  and  went  to 
sdiool  in  Freiburg,  then  moved  to  Karlsruhe, 
where  he  opened  a  store.  During  the  '20s  he  was 
an  active  anti-Nazi.  He  wrote  articles  for  Social- 
ist newspapers  toA  became  liea^  of  a  fraternal 
association  of  30,000  Ba4«l  fVwm,^M  wtacn  vm 
are  known  to  be  alive  now. 

In  1933,  after  Hitler  got  in  power,  Strauss  left 
for  Paris  and  married  the  following  year.  In  1939 
he  received  a  telegram  from  his  father  informing 
him  of  his  mother's  death  and  asking  him  to  re- 
turn to  Germany.  The  wire  was  a  Geitapo  trap. 
When  Strauss  crossed  the  border  at  Kehl,  near 
Strasbourg,  he  was  picked  up  by  the  agents  and 
thrown  in  prison  at  Karlsruhe,  and  sent  from 
there  a  month  later  to  a  concentration  camp  at 
Kislau  in  Baden.  There  were  no  charges. 

He  was  kept  at  ICislau  'for  five  months,  re- 
leased and  returned  to  Karlsruhe,  where  he 
opmed  another  store.  In  1037  the  Gestapo  picked 
lum  V9  again  vid  sent  him  to  the  Dachau  camp  for 
seven  months.  There  were  no  charges. 

In  1938  he  was  released 
and  returned  to  ICarls- 
ruhe  Just  in  time  to  watch 
his  property  being  de- 
stroyed b)r  mobs  who 
rioted  in  Novemi>er  after 
a  Polish  Jew  killed  Ernst 
von  Rath,  the  Nasi  mil- 
itary attache  in  Paris. 

Straufs  smiled  grimly. 
"That  was  the  beginning 
of  the  more  active  hunt- 
ing season." 

From  then  on  he  was 
on  the  move,  hiding  in 
one  town  after  another, 
in  forests  and  deserted 
farmhouses.  Most  of  the  time  Iw  hid  in  and 
around  Ettlingen,  where  his  Catholic  wife  and  - 
small  son  were  living  with  her  parents. 

During  all  these  years  he  was  not  permitted  to 
go  out  of  the  hiiuse  in  daylight  or  use  the  phone, 
or  speak  to  German  Aryans.  When  the  war 
started,  all  the  Jews  in  Baden  were  sent  to  Po- 
land except  those  who  tied  married  Aryans.  He 
stayed,  because  his  wife  was  Catholic  "My  father 
was  not  so  luclcy,"  the  BKcrgcrmeistcr  said.  "He 
married  a  Jewess.  He  was  70  years  tHA  when 
they  sent  him  to  Poland,  and  he  did  not  live  to 
arrive  there." 

IN  Jantjary,  194S  a  bribed  Gtttapo  agent  in- 
formed his  in-laws  that  all  persons  in  Ettlingen 
with  any  Jewish  blood  were  to  l>e  taken  to  Da- 
chau or  shot  at  once  because  the  French  were 
approaching.  Strauss  and  his  8-year-old  son  went 
and  hid  in  the  cellar  of  a  farmhouse  near  Ett- 
lingen. His  wife  brought  him  food  in  the  dead 
of  night  FHoids— "the  faithful  few"— supplied 
the  food  from  part  of  their  rations.  They  knew 
he  was  alive  but  it  was  understood  they  were  not 
to  ask  any  questions.  He  remained  hidden  in  the 
cellar  for  three  months.  "On  the  day  the  French 
came  I  waUtad  out  of  nqr  hale  to  Hvedom  and  my 
wife."  Hie  urn  ndsted.  1t|r  wtta^"  he  repeated 
softly. 

"You  come  from  America,  where  such  things 
cannot  happen,"  the  Buerpermeuter  continued 
"Perhaps  you  will  find  it  difficult  to  understand 
women  4ike  Frau  Strauss."  • 

They  had  met  in  Karlsruhe  15  years  ago.  where 
she  was  working  as  a  secretary.  Slie  was  pecttgr. 


blonde  and  vivadous;  they  had  gone  out  on  dates, 
fallen  in  love.  A  jrear  after  he  left  for  Paris  she 
Joined  him  and  they  married.  They  lived  in  Paris 
one  year— "one  wonderful  year"— and  iriien  he 
was  trapped  in  Germany  and  titrown  into  prison 
she  returned  to  live  in  the  "greater  prison" — 
Germany — to  he  with  her  husband. 

The  Bwergermeister  hesitated.  "My  wife  is 
Catholic  and  I  am  a  Jew.  You  understand  what 
such  a  marriage  meant  in  Hitler's  Germany.  But 
we  respected  each  other's  traditions.  We  had 
common  tastes,  and  a  common  lowt  al  the  ^assnt 
things  in  life." 

During  the  years  he  was  hunted,  the  black 
years  of 'Nazi  terror,  she  was  his  closest  conu'ade. 
When  he  was  in  prison  and  in  the  concentration 
canqw  she  went  from  official  to  official  to  obtain 
his  release.  And  wlien  he  walked  out  of  tlie  imIs- 
on  gates,  he  found  her  waiting.  During  all  that 
time  she  refused  to  go  to  the  movies  or  attend 
concerts;  "a  terrible  thing,  because  she  loved 
music  so;  she  wflidd  net  fe  -Mirwliewi  without 
me,  and  natun^  t  was  nriUAten  to  go  atqr- 
where." 

WHEN  Strauss  was  in  hiding,  the  Gestapo 
sometimes  picked  her  up  and  questioned 
her;  they  broke  into  the  house  at  all  hours  of  the 
night  and  day,  stole  jewelry,  papers  and  even 
^wir  macdiage  license.  Three  times  they  put  her 
in  tile  tortere  chamber  of  tlw  Ettlingen  Gestapo 
headquarters,  to  frighten  her  into  revealing  her 
husband's  hiding  places;  and  at  last  they  ac- 
cused her  of  espionage. 

Frau  Strauss,  nevertheless,  helped  the  Jews 
publicly.  When  they  were  rounded  up  to  be -de- 
ported to  Poland — and  almost  certain  death- 
she  made  up  food  packages  and  took  them  to  the 
railway  station  and  gave  them  to  the  women  of 
the  families  who  were  leaving.  She  helped  the 
slave  laborers  of  Ettlingen  with  gifts  of  clothes 
and  food  and  cigarettes  when  clothes  and  food 
and  cigarettes  were  hard  to  get 

Her  circle  of  friends  quickly  dwindled.  Women 
sh6  had  grown  up  with,  former  schoolmates, 
girls  she  went  to  church  with  and  on  dates, 
turned  the  other  way  when  they  met  her  on  the 
street.  Storekeepers  often  refused  to  honor  her 
ration  cards,  and  the  butchers  gave  her  the 
cheapest  cuts  of  meat  When  she  walked  on  the 
Street  tiM  Matf  hoeanwis  et  IttStoigMi  rtieatad 
"Jew's  whore." 

Now  she  sits  in  the  spadous  private  chambers 
of  the  Buerger-meitter,  a  pleasant-looking,  well- 
poised,  soft-voiced  woman,  who  back  home  might 
be  the  head  of  the  town's  charity  club  or  of  the 
Parent-Teaclier  Association. 

"They  are  v^  cordial  now,  my  old  friends  in 
EttUngnn."  said  Frau  Strauss.  "The  storeke^iers 
cannot  do  too  much  for  the  Buerpermeitter's 
wife.  And  my  neighbors'  children  are  so  anxious 
to  play  with  my  son."  Her  voice  faltered. 
"Scarcely  two  months  ago  they  threw  stones  at 
him  with  cries  of  'Jew's  bastard!'  And  yet  he  is  a 
child.  He  likes  to  play." 

A  little  later  we  visited  the  Btterpcrmeister  in 
his  public  office,  less  grand  than  the  private, 
formal  surroundings  of  the  mayor's  cfllcial  office. 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  activity.  PMVie  Wwe 
coming,  in,  going  out;  many  stood  outside  the 
door,  waiting  their  turn.  ' 

A  woman  came  to  to  complain  that  Jier  neiSh- 
bor's  dog  was  bittog  the  children;  another  that 
her  husband  was  mistreating  her.  Others  com- 
plained that  displaced  Poles  were  getting  dnmk 
and  insulting  German  citizens.  There  were  re- 
quests for  food  ration  cards.  The  fluergefinsister 
listened  patiently,  made  his  decision  in  qid^' 
final  tones.  His  face  was  a  mask 

Members  of  the  Council  came  in  with  problems 
of  housing  and  labor  and  food.  Mayors  from  a 
local  town  visited  him  for  advice;  ofllcials  of  tlie 
French  MG  came  to  confer. 

"A  very  able  man,  that  Strauss,"  a  French  cap- 
tain told  us,  "A  man  of  courage.  I  told  hhn  that 
he  may  get  hurt  one  of  these  days  by  some  Nazi 
fanatic,  but  he  only  laughed.  I  find  it  difficult 
naturally,  to  admire  a  German,  but  I  have  a 
great  admiration  for  the  Buerpermeister.  Per- 
haps it  is  because  I  eanaok  think  of  Urn  as  • 
German.  In  reriHy..  he  fsu^  fliem  as  bitlettr 
as  we  did." 

When  we  went  up  to  Fritz  Israel  Strauss  to  say 
goodbye  he  said,  "I  have  a  farewell  gift  for  you," 
and  he  took  from  his  wallet  a  frayed  yellow 
cloth  in  the  form  of  a  six-pointed  star,  with 
"Jude"  in  black  across  the  center.  "I  wore  it 
here."-  he  said,  and  he  plaeed  it  below  his  heart 


Ettlingen 


oy  Google 


Origirial  from 


MM? 


tr'poA  tiain  of  Ob  oad  CMmm  ♦oM>w«  •  MMmMtn  rivar  barf  an  llMir  way  ta  a  lata  vWlaf  ■         Ma|.  OiaHaa  MMita,  wlia  wo*  a  valarinaftaa  ia  ( 


Gl  HORSE  TRADE 


By  Cpl.  JUO  COOK 
YANK  Staff  Correspondent 

NORTHERN  CuuiA — Four  of  US  l^t  KuDming. 
China,  in  u-'/iitapeot  earrii^  .^t  was 
loaded  tu  the  limit.  It  carried  extra  drums 

of  gasoline,  foyd  enough  to  last  j  month,  bedding 
rolls,  a  sack  of  mail  and' anothci .  more  important 
sack.  The  second  saek  held  several  million  dol- 
lars in  Chinese  currency,  just  part  of  a  largei 
sum  destined  to  do  a  special  job. 

A  vital  phase  of  China's  war  against  the  Jap 
was  connected  wHK  our  (grip  and  with  other  trips 
like  .it.  The  millions  were  to  be  delivered  to  a 
group  of  GIs  in  Tibet  and  in  the  unexplored  part 
of  China  inhabited  by  the  Lolos — fierce,  black- 
caped  characters  who  con.sidoi  it  sport  to  rob  and 
kill.  Our  party  wa.s  bound  for  Lololand.  armed 
with  two  shotguns,  two  45s  and  an  Ml.  but  wi 
would  have  fell  better  with  a  bract  of  machine 
guns.  That  much  cash  makes  you  nervous 


The  Lulos  and  the  Tibetans  have  good  noise.- 
and  the  GIs  at  our  dcitifWltiwi  were  there  to  buy 
them  for  CSibtfu  Chbta  needs  horses  in  girding 
herceU  for  a  aqiweae-pUy  actUmijl.  the  Japs  a>  the 
poasibWtar  <a  no  inva^on  of  China's  eastern  eiia«  - 
grows  stronger.  One  look  at  Chiita  from  a  plane 
will  answer  any  question  about  the  need  for 
horses.  There  are  only  a  fe%v  roads  good  enough 
to  handle  the  weight  of  trucks  to  cany  supplies 
to  the  fighting  fronts,  espieially  if  these  fronts 
should  move  farther  east.  The  only  feasible  way 
to  get  supplies  through  is  to  paclc  them  by  horse. 
Hcvse  tradin|(  was  our  military  aasignnMit. 
Out  of  Kunming,  we  swung  onto  the  newly 
opened  Burma  Road.  We  stuck  to  it  for  three 
houi  .'^  and  then  turned  off  to  head  straight  north. 
The  U.  S.  Army  convoy  trucks  we  left  behind  us 
on  the  Burma  Roa'd  were  the  last  American  ve- 
hicles we  were  to  see  for  over  a  month  except  for 
another  weapons  carrier  and  a  jeep  that  were  in 
u.se  by  GIs  at  the  horse-trading  encampment. 


We  had  three  days  of  roller-coaster  riding  be- 
fore we  sighted  the  very  blue  waters  of  the  Yel  - 
low  River.  Part  of  the  Chinese  Navy — we  had 
naver  thought  of  a  Navy  so  far  inland — ^ferried 
UK  acKMC  After  that,  mow  fomiti  this  time  dotted 
with  flimsy  wooden  bridges. 

Many  of  the  bridges  bore  sciu-s  of  fire  and  we 
knew  we  wrrt-  nearing  the  Lolo  country.  We  had 
heard  that  some  of  the  Lolos  had  been  on  a  ram- 
page not  long  before  and  had  burned  down  a 
number  of  bridges  so  that  they  could  waylay  any 
vehicle  held  up  by  one  of  them.  The  Chinese 
llf  igr  h«^  toiici  us  that  Iwd  bridges  were  down, 
but  that  new  ones  were  n^ar  completi<»L  Their 
G-2  was  correct  for  we  found  all  finished  bridges 
and  were  rea.ssured  at  evidence  that  communica- 
tions were  better  than  we  had  thought. 

All  that  money  in  the.se  surroundings  still  wor- 
ried us.  When  we  pulled,  into  a  small  town  to 
stay  overnight  our  relief  w^  almost  audible. 
Sgt.  Willard  Selph.  of  the  vetarinaty  outfit 


which  does  the  horse  buying,  parked  the  weapons 
carrier  and  we  unloaded  our  stuff  in  a  building 
erroneously  called  a  liotcL  UpBtate*  H  boasted 
bare  rooms,  littered  ttifh  egg  shells  that  must 
have  been  there  iar  weeks.  light  came  into  the 
rooms  from  rat  holes  large  enough  to  accommo- 
date a  small,  foolhardy  dog.  The  windows  were 
paper-covered  holes  in  the  wall.  This  was  the  only 
available  lodging  in  the  town,  so  we  parked  our 
gear  and  our  millions  and  left  Maj.  Earl  Bitter 
to  guard  it  while  we  hunted  up  a  recommended 
restaurant. 

We  walked  through  dark,  narrow  streets  and 
halfway  to  the  eating  place  in  this  blackness 
came  upon  a  sight  that  dashed  my  appetite  to 
bits.  Hanging  just  above  our  eye-level  were  eight 
human  heads,  strung  up  on  a  cord  between  two 
poles.  Wong,  our  interpreter,  evidently  wanted  us 
to  get  the  full  effect  for  he  said  nothing  until 
after  we  had  seen  them.  Then  he  told  us  the 
story:  They  were  (he  heads  of  savage  Lolos 
brought  back  by  friendly  Lolos  as  prizes  of  war 
from  a  battle  of  the  week  before.  He  further  ex- 
plained that  "white"  and  "black"  Lolos  war  peri- 
odically because  of  crimes  committed  by  the 
latter.  We  thanked  him. 

We  pulled  out  the  next  day  when  the  town  was 
having  its  annual  Buddha-washing  festival.  The 
citizens  wash  the  statue  on  a  certain  day  every 
year  and  the  cleaning  is  done  by  a  selected  man 
and  woman,  the  "living  Buddhas."  The  lucky 
couple  is  car.'-ied  up  to  the  statues  in  a  long  pro- 
cewioa  and  they  bring  everything  with  them  in 
'  ilie  way  of  oil  and  trinkets  except  soap. 

WE  found  half  the  men  on  the  horse-buying 
assignment,  when  we  arrived  at  the  camp, 
considering  their  job  in  the  light  of  a  rest 'camp 
deal.  These  are  G3s  who  have  been  through  the 
misery  of  the  Salween  campaign  which  helped 
reopen  the  Ledo-Burma  Road.  Even  this  out-of- 
the-way  spot  looks  good  to  them  now. 

The  GI  who  looked  and  talked  more  like  a 
cowboy  than  anyone  else  at  the  camp  was  T-4 
Michael  Brutcher  of  Wilkinsburg,  Pa.  He  was 
a  steel  worker  there,  but  when  he  shipped  to 
this  theater  he  was  put  into  a  veterinary  outfit; 
why  he  doesn't  know  himself.  Brutcher  had  be- 
to  the  outfit  that  was  rounding  up,  buying 
«  deHverfaig  horses  to  Ledo  for  use  by  Mer- 
Ts  Marauders.  He  was  doing  the  same  job  when 
»e  saw  him. 

Two  westerners  in  the  detachment— Pfc.  Wil- 
ham  Hightower  of  Stephenville,  Tex.,  and  Pvt 
William  Nealon  of  Denver,  Colo. — have  the  tough- 
est job  in  the  whole  assignment.  They  are  the 
pack  leaders  and,  when  the  desired  number  of 
are  bought  in  the  area,  Hightower  and 
with  a  string  of  Chinese  mafiLS  (care- 


takers) lead  them  to  a  coUecting  point  aome«ii«r« 
in  southern  China. 

When  the  time  comes  for  shoeing  tht  herd  be- 
fore it  heads  south  the  job  will  fall  to  T-4  Nor- 
man Skala,  a  GI  blacksmith  from  Elgin.  111. 

The  crux  of  the  job — buying  the  horses — is  not 
so  simple  a  matter  as  dipping  into  the  millions 
of  dollars  and  waving  a  flstful  of  cash  beftt«  the 
eyes  of  the  horse  owners.  Horses  and  guoa  are 
the  most  highly  prized  possessions  of  the  Lotos 
and  they  won't  give  either  of  them  up  sinq>ly  at 
the  sight  of  a  wad  of  moola. 

The  first  step  in  buying  is  for  the  GI  traders 
to  go  into  a  town  and  get  in  touch  with  a  magis- 
trate, for  a  magistrate  in  this  country  has  power 
of  life  or  death  over  his  people.  They  ask  him  to 
spread  word  that  Americans  are  in  the  city  to 
buy  whatever  horses  are  for  sale. 

"The  owners  then  bring  their  horses  into  town 
and  they  bring  with  tbem  a  mayadza,  a  profes- 
sional horse  broker.  All  deals  are  made  through 
the  mayadza,  never  directly  with  the  owners, 
although  the  owners  are  present  most  of  the  time 
to  keep  an  eye  on  the  progress  of  the  trading. 
It  the  bargaining  is  successful,  the  broker  shouts, 
"Maria'."  to  the  owner.  This  means  "Sell!"  If  the 
owner  agrees,  the  mayadsa  drops  the  halter  on 
the  horse  and  the  deal  is  closed.  You  don't  own 
a  horse  until  the  moment  the  broker  lets  loose 
the  halter. 

Both  brokers  and  owners  drive  a  hard  bargain. 
Maj.  Charles  Ebertz  of  Auburn,  N.  Y.,  who  has 

done  most  of  the  buying  here,  a  practicing  vet  in 
civilian  life,  reports  case  after  case  where  he 
spent  three  to  four  hours=buying  one  horse.  Occa- 
sionally, sellers  will  pull  fast  ones.  Once  a  GI 
buyer  discovered  too  late  that  he  had  paid  a  good 
price  for  a  club-footed  horse.  During  the  sale  the 
animal  had  been  standing  ankle-deep  in  straw. 

In  some  instances  money  is  no  good  at  all. 
Almost  all  the  Lolos  would  rather  have  silver 
blocks  than  folding  stuff  and  that  poses  another 
problem  for  the  GIs,  who  have  to  go  out  and  hunt 
up  sufficient  silver  blocks. 

Tibetans,  on  the  other  hand,  will  take  money  if 
they  have  to  but  prefer  barter  goods  and  the 
things  they  ask  for  have  caused  many  an  issue 
head  to  be  scratched.  They  are  moved  by  fads 
and  the  last  Tibetan  fancy  was  for  yellow  felt 
hats.  For  such  a  hat  a  horse  owner  in  Tibet  would 
trade  his  best  nag.  Col.  Daniel  H.  Mallan  of  Har- 
risburg.  Pa.,  head  of  all  the  horse-buying  groups, 
made  a  special  plane  trip  to  China  and  back  to 
procure  yellow  hats.  He  couldn't  get  any  felt 
ones,  but  yellow-painted  helmet,  liners  came 
close  enough  to  buy  a  few  horses  before  the  fad 
melted  away. 
A  trip  we  made  with  one  of  the  trading  parties 


ment  routine  as  practiced  by  the  Army  in  China. 

We  drove  first  as  far  as  we  could  by  motor  to 
a  amafi  toi^  to  which  our  saddle  horses  and 
mules  had  been  driven  the  day  before.  Their 

arrival  had  spread  the  word  of  our  mission  be- 
fore us.  When  we  arrived  at  the  town  at  0900 
there  were  crowds  of  curious  spectators  whoiiad 
been  waitipg  for  9%i)sr  hours.  Tbisy  mobbed  our 
track  bjr  the  ntm^breds  and  helped  us  saddle  6ur 
horses  and  load  our  gear. 

Just  as  we  were  ready  to  shove  off,  half  a  dozen 
of  them  grabbed  us  by  the  arms  and  led  us  to  a 
hovel  that  looked  like  a  HoUyaraod  opiimt  den. 
There  they  brought  out  a  huge  black  jug  and 
poured  each  of  us  a  bowl  of  their  very  best  rice 
wine,  stored  away  for  special  occasions  like  this. 
It  was  liquid  dynamite,  but,  as  soon  as  we  took 
a  sip  from  our  individual  bowls,  our  hosts  refilled 
them.  Dish  after  dish  of  food  followed  the  wine 
and  the  meal  was  interrupted  constantly  by  toasts. 
As  soon  as  we  finished  one  meal,  another  party 
was  on  hand,  dragging  us  to  its  hovel.  Everyone 
wanted  to  entertain.  Everyone  who_  had  a  deli- 
cacy on  his  own  dish  wanted  us  to  take  a  bite. 
Two  hours  went  by  before  we  could  get  our  show 
on  the  road.  ' 

WE  reached  the  Lolo  village  we  were  seeking 
late  in  the  evening  and,  although  we  were 
dog  tired,  our  eyes  opened  at  the  sights  that 
greeted  us.  We  had  heard  earlier  that  there  was 
sickness  among  the  Lolos  and  in  the  village  we 
saw  four  tribesmen  stretched  on  the  ground  in 
the  last  stages  of  something.  It  wasn't  until  the 
second  day  that  we  found  out  the  nature  of  the 
plague.  The  four  had  been  having  a  party  an  rice 
wine  10  times  stronger  than  that  we  had  sam- 
pled down  the  road  and  were  recovering  from 
the  inevitable  attack  of  DTs. 

The  youngest  son  of  the  tribal  chief,  Lo-Tai- 
Ing,  came  out  to  greet  us.  He  bowed  gracefully 
and  in  very  good  English  repeated  that  favorite 
GI  expression  about  "blowing  it  out."  That  was 
all  he  could  say  in  S^igli^  and  it  reminded  us  of 
the  story  that  a  bomber  had  crashed  up  country 
and  its  crew  had  never  been  heard  of.  We  were 
nervous  again. 

Wong  immediately  announced  the  reason  for 
our  visit  He  told  the  IaIos  ^t  we  had  silver  to 
buy  horses  and  that  we  came  bearing  gifts  and 
medicine. 

The  tribesmen  tied  our  horses  and  took  us  to  a 
room  in  the  mansion  of  the  chief.  In  a  matter  of 
minutes  we  were  backed  against  the  wall  by  a 
stream  of  Lolos  who  pushed  into  the  room  to  get 
a  look  at  the  Meigwas — the  Americans.  They 
stared  at  us,  checking  their  own  features  against 
ours,  and  mumbled  among  themselves.  They  felt 


1  feive  a  rough  idea  of  typical  horse  procur^-.i|'|  |tj^  '.enti  re  of  "ppr  skins  and  measured  our  wrists, 

 VERSITV  OF  MICHIGAN 


0)  |^^ 


ankles  and  necks.  Then  they  took  turns  standing 
beside  us  to  compare  heights.  They  were  amazed 
by  our  wrist  watches  and  pocket  knives,  but  our 
guns  WP'e  the  main  attraction. 

After  they  had  concluded  the  inspection  to  their 
satisfaction,  some  of  them  took  Wong  aside  and 
told  him  they  would  like  to  have  «  shooting  con- 
test with  us.  Maj.  Bbertz  agreed  and  said  he 
would  stack  his  Ml  against  any  of  their  rifles. 
One  of  the  young  kids  brought  out  a  piece  of  tile 
and  took  off  for  the  hills  nearby.  He  placed  the 
tile,  which  was  to  be  the  target,  about  300  yards 
away  and  then  the  chief  came  up  with  his  rifle. 
H&  took  five  shots  at  the  tile,  but  every  one  was 
eithtT  too  abort  or  off  to  one  sidc^  Ibi].  Ebertae 
took  hii  torn.  He  ptit  one  round  in  his  Ml,  ad- 
justed the  sights,  took  aim.  squeezed  off  his  shot 
and  splattered  the  target  to  bits.  Every  Lolo 
around  jumped  with  excitement.  We  were  in. 

We  slept  in  the  Lolo  village  that  night  and  in 
the  morning  the  chiefs  son  came  to  Wong  with 
word  that  the  tribesmen  were  goihg  to  kill  two 
bulls  in  our  booor  nd  did  wc  waat  to  watch  the 
slaughtering?  The  Lolo  method  of  kiUing  animals 
isn't  pretty  and  we  didn't  stay  out  the  whole 
show.  What  we  did  see  was  enough. 

One  Liolo  felled  the  first  bull  with  an  axe  and. 


as  it  wavered  to  its  knees,  he  pounded  over  the 
heart,  on  the  back  and  on  the  lefs,  screaming 

every  time  he  swtmg  the  axe.  The  Lolo  onlookers 
hopped  up  and  down,  delirious  with  laughter. 
While  the  bull  was  still  kicking,  a  second  Lolo 
slit  its  throat.  We  were  supposed  to  accept  Itus 
sacrifice  with  deep  t^preciation. 

The  killer's  axe  miaaed  ite  target  on  the  second 
bull  and  the  animal  got  away  to  the  hills  at  a 
fast  pace.  The  Lolos  gestured  excitedly  to  the 
major  that  they  wanted  him  to  shoot  the  run- 
away. He  brought  it  down  with  a  single  shot,  the 
cleanest  execution  in  Lololand  in  a  long  time.  We 
checked' out  before  the  final  details  of  butchery. 

That  evenitig  the  Lolos  fcHted  on  the  two  bulls. 
They  sat  in  circles,  about  20  to  the  circle,  eating 
the  beef  from  massive  bowls,  one  to  each  group. 
They  had  only  one  eating  tool,  a  spoon  which 
looks  something  like  a  tiny  niblick.  It  is  used  for 
the  soup  which  is  served  at  every  meal  and  one 
spoon  does  for  a  whole  circle  of  diners. 

Their  eating  must  rank  among  the  world's 
mMtaA.  ^nth  aooae  300  Hps  smarking  in  enjoy- 
ment at  one  time,  it  aotmded  as  if  you  were  stand- 
ing near  a  lake  listening  to  the  slap  of  the  waves 
against  a  row  of  moored  boats.  They  did  not  in- 
vite tu  to  join  any  of  the  circles  and  we  did  not 


regret  it  They  dUd  fadag  us  some  unoooked  liver 
and  tripe  to /take  back  to  camp  with  us. 

Our  quarters  while  we  were  with  the  tribe 
were  in  the  corner  of  a  large  room  on  the  second 
floor  of  the  chief's  mansion.  The  house  is  still 
abuilding  and  Wong  discovered  that  this  marked 
its  fourth  year  of  construction.  The  Lolos  them- 
selves know  nothing  about  carpentry  and  such 
work  is  done  by  Chinese  th^  have  CBptureil  ana 
enslaved.  Farming,  too,  is  a  slave's  job,  and  the 
Lolo  warriors  are  left  with  little  to  do  but  drink 
rice  wine  all  day. 

After  the  bull  feast,  the  chief  paid  a  visit  to 
our  quarters.  A  bearer  brought  a  large  kettle  of 
rice  wine  and  placed  it  at  the  chief's  feet.  We 
had  to  drink  because  the  major  planned  to  make 
a  token  purchase  of  a  few  horses.  It  was  a  quiclc 
deal,  for  its  one  purpose  was  to  impress  the  Lolos 
that  we  were  in  the  market  for  horses. 

Even  before  the  deal  was  closed  curious  Lolos 
began  to  jam  the  room.  They  squatted  against  the 
walls  and  watched  us  as  the  ^ie(  had  a  second 
meal  after  selling  the  horses.  Tlie  chief  ate  with 
chopsticks  this  time  and  we  shared  some  beef  and 
pork  with  him. 

The  smell  of  bodies  in  the  room  was  stifling. 
The  tribesmen  squatted  close  to  us,  constantly 
feeling  our  muscles,  touching  our  faces  and  rub- 
bing the  hair  on  our  arms.  Their  faces  were 
strange  and  distorted  in  the  candeMght, 

They  took  the  jungle  knives  out  of  our  belts 
and  seemed  content  to  sit  and  hold  and  stare  at 
them.  They  inspected  every  single  item  of  our 
clothing.  The  zippers  on  our  fleld  jackets  were 
something  they  couldn't  believe.  When  we  smoked 
they  were  not  so  much  attracted  by  our  ciga- 
rettes as  by  the  matches  .we  used  to  light  them. 
Thqr  light  their  own  pipes  with  Unit  arad  metaL 

When  Wong  informed  the  «hief  that  we  had  to 
leave  in  a  few  days,  he  tried  to  persuade  us  to 
stay  longer.  He  wanted  us  to  remain  in  the  vil- 
lage long  enough  to  teach  his  people  some  Amer- 
ican habits  and  maybe  a  few  words  of  K"gT'i>h 
He  and  all  the  tribesmen  pumped  us  with  endless 
questions  about  the  United  States  and  about  the 
whole  outside  world.  When  we  told  them  about 
American  farmers  their  first  questions  were:  How 
many  guns  does  an  American  farmer  have?  How 
many  horses?  How  much  silver?  They  wanted  to 
know  if  there  were  any  beggars  in  the  U.  S. 

THK  Lolos  themselves  are_  not  yet  certain  that 
the  world  is  round.  They"  asked  us  for  proof  of 
the  shape  of  the  world  and  for  proof  that  the 
globe  spins.  If  it  spins,  they  reason,  why  don't 
people  fall  off  and  why  doesn't  the  water  spill 
out  of  rivers  and  lakes?  They  believe  that  the 
chief's  house,  a  three-story  structure,  is  the  last 
word  in  modem  biiiMing,  When  we  told  than 
about  skyaciapeis  and  New  York,  fhey  rei^iaed  to 
believe  us 

The  chiefs  right  hand  man  told  us  that  the 
Lolos  had  seen  a  few  airplanes.  If  the  Americans 
could  make  such  things  from  reading  books,  be 
said,  then  the  Lolos  were  going  to  get  books.  Hie 
chiefs  brother,  considered  the  most  dariqg  man 
in  the  tribe,  offered  tbe  ma}ar  his  best  botse  and 
the  title  of  godfather  to  hii  children,  if  he  could 
have  a  plane  ride.  The  major  said  he  would  try 
to  arrange  it.  We  sensed  something  more  than 
curiosity  in  the  brother's  request.  It  seemed  pos- 
sible that  he  was  preparing  to  unseat  his  brother 
and  was  banking  on  adding  to  his  personal  pres- 
tige in  the  community  by  taking  the  death- 
defying  risk  of  air  travel. 

'The  evening's  Lolo  version  of  a  bull-session 
finally  folded  and  we  slept  The  rest  of  our  stay 
with  the  tribe  was  Ivgeljr  a  matter  of  psepaung 
to  leave  for  camp. 

The  l^olca  contfatoed  In  thrir  ciwiwKy  about  v 
and  we  continued  to  observe  them.  lOie  IdOla  wo- 
men, we  discovered,  are  attractive — ^whatyaaeUi 
see  of  them.  Only  their  hands  and  face^andaeaae^ 
times  their  feet,  are  visible.  They  seem  qmte  in- 
nocent of  bathing  and  the  dirt  on  their  hands 
has  undoubtedly'  been  untouched  by  water  for 
years.  Possibly  they  observe  the  Tibetan  castom 
of  but  three  haOis  per  Mtetime  once  at  tairfh. 
once  at  marriage  and  finally  at  death. 

This  allergy  to  bathing  was  a  major  obstacle 
to  our  interest  in  the  Lolos.  We  could  observe 
them  with  enthusiasm  while  our  lungs  were  full 
of  fresh  air,  but  enthusiasm  waned  with  longer, 
closer  contact 

Our  mission  had  been  finished  with  the  buying 
of  tbe  horses.  We  packed  our  gear,  including  our 
kidney  and  tripe,  mounted  our  horses  and  headed 
back  lo  the  GI  camp. 


RSITV  OF  MICHIGAN 


HOME 


By  Sgt.  SAUL  LEVIH 
YANK  Staff  Cerr»spond*nl 

ON  May  20,  Capt.  Joseph  G.  Stone,  a  big, 
red-headed    doctor    from   Cicero,  UL, 
walked  into  the  anteroom  of  the  6th  Fid4 
Hospital  at  Prestwick,  Scotland,  carrying  a  little 

list  of  names.  Another  one  of  the  smooth  North 
Atlantic  air  passages  that  ATC  had  been  provid- 
ing for  the  wounded  since  June  1944  was  getting 
under  way. 

Stone  checked  off  the  names,  and  T-4  John  JI. 
McKim  of  Elwood  City,  Pa.  chalked  up  another 
departure  on  his  blackboard. 

Mhiutes  later  the  big  ramp  was  pulled  up  to 
the  open  bays  of  the  C-54,  and  20  men  were  carried 
aboard.  Half  an  hour  after  Stone  had  read  the 
names  off  his  list,  a  wide-winged  plane  was  climb- 
ing north  out  of  Scotland. 

Aboard  as  flight  nurse  for  the  first  leg  of  the 
trip  to  Iceland  was  Lt.  Sylvia  Roth  of  Phila- 
delphia, Pa.  She  had  made  five  trips  across  the 
Atlantic  and  had  earned  lots  of  flight  time  flying 
over  the  Continent  when  we  www  noirilac 
wounded  men  from  advanced  flekta  behind  ttw' 
front  lines  to  hospitals  in  the  rear. 

The  20  patients,  comfortably  set  up  in  tiers  of 
four  litters,  included  a  Ranger;  a  TO  battalion 
beutenant  who  bad  been  shot  three  times  at  dose 
range  by  a  German  soldier,  and  a  20-year-old 
platoon  sergeant.  Of  the  20  patients  aboard  19 
had  been  prisoners  of  the  Germans.  All  'of  them 
represented  the  tail-end  of  the  war  in  Europe 
and  they  proved  that  the  last  bullets  were  as 
dangerous  as  the  other  ones.  And  on  VE-Day 
they  were  in  hospitals  celebrating  with  ther- 
mometers and  bedpans. 

They  had  been  hit  with  plenty  of  trouble'  in 
their  service  overseas.  Most  of  them  lay  in  their 
litters  very  quietly  now  as  if  not  to  break  the 
spell  of  tUs  magic  that  was  taking*  them  home. 
"Hus  day  there  was  lots  of  sunlight  over  the 
broken  clouds  and  bits  of  bleak  water  showing 
below.  Lt  Roth  spread  a  comforter  on  the  floor 
and  some  of  the  men  clambered  down  from  the 
litters.  The  nurse  and  the  soldiers  played  cards. 

Lt.  James  PoUitt,  who  had  commanded  a 
platoon  of  tank  destroyers  in  the  821st  TD  Bat- 
talion, wanted  only  to  smoke,  which  was  exactly 
the  one  thing  he  couldn't  do  aboard  the  plane. 
Outside  of  that  he  didn't  mind  talking.  He  was 
a  tall,  level-headed  guy  who  didn't  look  like  he'd 
ever  feel  sorry  for  himsell  He  had  charged  a 
Tiger  tank  in  a  jeep,  not  because  he  was  looking 
for  a  posthumous  Medal  of  Honor,  "but  what 
the  hell  could  we  do?  You  can't  drive  a  jeep 
away  from  a  Tiger  tank  so  my  driver  and  I  just 
drove  down  to  it,  pulled  up  alongside  and  climbed 
on  top.  We  had  a  carbine  and  a  .45  between  us. 
We  banged  on  the  turret  until  it  opened  and 
we  had  them  prisoner." 

"After  that  I  yelled  Kummen  raus  or  .some 
damn  thing  to  every  German  who  might  be 
listening,  and  by  God  it  seemed  like  hundreds 
of  them  came  out  of  houses  and  woods.  I  told 
them  there  were  lots  of  Americans  around  and 
to  disarm.  They  kept  looking  at  us  but  no  other 
Americans  came.  Finally  they  had  it  figured  out 
right,  that  there  was  just  the  two  of  us  and  they 
jumped  us.  This  one  guy  grabbed  my  .45.  He 
slwt  me  three  times  from  a  distance  of  abont  10 
feet  the  first  thne  it  wat  through  0w  dM*t  and 


I  remember  going  down  on  one  Icnee  and  saying 
to  myself  Tm  never  going  home.' 
"I  was  shot  three  times  but  I  guess  none  of  the 

shots  hit  anything  important.  The  one  through 
the  chest  didn't  touch  my  lungs  and  just  grazed 
a  rib.  The  second  one  through  the  neck  didn't 
touch  the  jugular  vein.  Tb»  iMt  smashed  UP 
my  right  arm  a  bitr  atMl  tliiifa  about  flttl^ 
bothering  me  now. 

"See  this,"  said  Pollitt,  flexing  his  flqgoi.  Be 
couldn't  make  a  tight  flst  because  the  nerves  in 
his  upper  right  arm  hadn't  thoroughly  healed  yet. 
And  he  would  carry  his  Purple  Heart  around 
with  him  the  rest  of  his  life  in  the  form  of  a  little 
scar  In  his  nedc 

Lt  Roth,  who  was  sitting  at  a  window  wtOtlliC 
sun  suddenly  blazing  through  into  the  plane, 
tapped  Pollitt  on  the  shoulder  and  said,  "You  sit 
down  here,  and  feel  that  sun  on  your  back." 

"No,  you  keep  sitting  there,  it's  all  right,"  said 
T»ollitt. 

"You  sit  there,  just  sit  down  and  feel  that  siu, 
it'll  be  wonderful  on  your  back." 

Pollitt  sat  down,  rubbed  his  stubble  of  black 
beard,  and  gazed  out  on  unbroken,  fluffy  white 
clouds  that  moved  to  the  horizon.  The  clouds 
made  a  bed  the  size  of  the  world.  He  said  he  was 
fDing  home  to  Pawtucket  R.  where  he  had  a 
wife.  Pollitt  left  the  States  before  the  baby  was 
bom,  he  said.  The  kid  wasn't  well  at'lnrth.  Now 
he  was  coming  home  after  his  5-month-old  son, 
whom  he'd  never  seen,  had  died. 

THE  navigator  came  back  for  a  minute  to  say  that 
we  had  a  good  tail  wind  and  the  flight  would 
■only  be  four  hours  today.  Somebody  asked  the 
nurse  if  high-ranking  officer  patients  acted  any 
differently  than  the  enlisted  men  on  these  flights. 
Lt.  Roth  thought  about  that  one  for  a  moment 
and  then  said,  "I  wouldn't  know,  they  all  seem 
the  same  in  pajamas." 

"Generals  are  usually  the  meekest  and  mildest 
of  the  lot,"  said  Pfc.  Donald  Ackroyd,  the  flight 
and  traffic  clerk  aboard.  Ackroyd,  whose  home 
town  is  Webster,  Mass.,  has  been  making  these 
trans-Atlantic  flights  for  nearly  a  year.  "Tell  a 
general  that  he's  gotta  stop  smoking,  and  he  al-  ' 
most  breaks  a  leg  putting  out  that  cigarette." 

Meelu  Fidd  was  clean  and  bare  and  filfi  of 
sunlight  when  the  plane  landed.  It  wasn't  too 
cold  in  Iceland  that  day.  The  Forts  on  the  field 
looked  nice  and  peaceful  with  their  guns  sheathed 
in  canvas,  and  the  searchlights  which  used  to 
watch  for  the  big  Focke  Wolfe  200s  that  bombed 
long  ago  as  far  north  as  Iceland  looked  as  if  they 
hadn't  been  used  for  some  time.  May  two  years 
ago  in  Iceland  saw  the  Forts  and  the  B26s  lined 
up  nose  by  nose  as  if  snifling  the  cold  grey  skies 
for  the  take-offs  to  Eng- 
land and  combat.  But  this 
May  was  VE  month  and 
even  Iceland  looked  good. 

'When  the  gangplank 
was  pulled  alongside  the 
plane,  the  fuselage  be- 
came as  busy  as  Grand 
Central  but  the  move- 
ments up  and  down  the 
gangplank  were  purpose- 
ful and  dBcient  Doctors, 
a  new  nurse,  Red  Cross 
girls,  orderlies  and  an- 
other ciew  came  aboard. 
There  were  tureens  of 
hot  food,  fresh  milk  and 
ice  cream.  Pollitt  and  the 
yoimg  Ranger  officer,  Lt. 
Douglas  C.  Campbell  of 


YANK  n*  Mrmy  Wm^kly  •  JMLY  IS,  IMS 

ValleJOk  Calif.,  who  had  been  wounded  on  the 
Saar  while  with  the  5th  Ranger  Battalion,  went 
off  the  plane  for  a  quick  cigarette 
Lt.  Roth  and  the  new  nurse  took  their  hair 

down  just  before  take-of(  and  had  a  shop-talk 
powder-room  conversation.  They  talked  about 
the  last  pass  in  New  York  before  grabbing  an 
eastward  flight  and  Lt.  Roth  thought  ImT  flifM 
tuiiform  at  Prestwick  would  probably  be  OOt  tX 
the  cleaners  when  she  got  back  there. 

Then  Lt  Roth  made  a  neat  little  good-by  speech 
and  the  men  looked  at  each  other  as  if  they  were 
losing  a  very  old  friend. 

The  second  leg  from  Iceland  to  Newfoundland 
was  the  long  one,  eight  and  a  half  hours  and  go- 
ing from  sunlight  into  darkneii.  The  navigator 
came  back  for  a  moment  very  satiafltd  with  tho 
flight.  He  talked  about  the  trade  winds,  the  old 
winds  of  Colimibus  and  the  clipper  ai^i  aeroH 
the  Atlantic.  Men  fell  asleep. 

THEY  stirred  on  their  litters  and  rubbed  their 
eyes  in  the  night  over  Newfoundland.  It  was  a 
clear  night.  The  mountains  below  showed  streaks 
of  snow  and  jagged  edges  but  it  was  all  remote 
from  this  hospital  ward  in  the  air.  Landing  in 
Newfoundland  was  to  feel  already  the  American 
current  of  life.  Pollitt  and  Campbell  went  over 
to  the  terminal  building  and  tried  out  tlieir  new 
currency  in  the  niclKls  and  dimes  that  could  buy 
tomato  juice,  coffee  and  hamburgers.  It  was  very  ' 
interesting.  All  you  had  to  do  was  to  drop  some 
of  these  little  pieces  of  metal  on  the  counter  and 
say  hamburgers  and  coffee  and  there  they  were 
in  front  of  you.  A  copy  of  today's  New  Yoik 
Tijnet  lay  on  a  bench  and  you  could  look  over 
yesterday's  box  score  at  the  Polo  Grounds. 

On  the  plane  itself  they  had  nm  up  a  big  can- 
vas pipe  which  fed  warm  air  into  tlie  waist  of 
the  plane  while  the  doors  remained  open,  anoUier 
piefe  of  American  engineering. 

The  last  leg  of  the  flight  from  Newfoundland 
to  Mitchel  field  saw  nobody  daring  to  get  openly 
restless  at  the  idea  of  home.  It  was  a  conspiracy 
of  silence  like  watching  a  no-hit,  no-run  game  in 
the  making.  Four  hours  later  the  U.  S.  showed  be- 
low us  in  enormous  patches  of  electric  light. 

The  black  magic  <»  this  flight  was  coming  to  an 
end.  The  flaps  came  down  for  the  last  time,  the 
plane  turned  off  the  base  leg,  the  electric  lights 
came  up  big  and  the  landing  was  easy — routine 
magic  to  the  very  end.  They  lowered  the  litters 
from  the  plane  by  means  of  a  portable  lift  pow- 
ered by  a  motor  that  chugged  up  to  the  plane. 
The  gay  that  had  charged  a  Tiger  tank  with -a 
Jeep  because  he  had  to;  the  gay.  and  lively  young 
Ranger;  and  the  baby-faced  platoon  sergeant  who 
was  going  to  try  out  school  again,  came  down  on 
the  lift  and  were  carried  over  to  waiting  ambu- 
lances. It  was  0400  in  the  United  States  of  Amer- 
ica at  Mitchel  Field,  Long  Island.  Twenty  wound- 
ed soldiers  were  home  for  whatever  was  in  it 
And  there  was  a  fine  cool  wind  blowing  tlie  way 
you  mnember  it  used  to  be  in  New  ITork  City 
years  ago— a  cool  night  wind  after  a  long  hot  day. 


The  nurse  and  the  soldiers  played  cords. 


DspMidcnts  chmI  Points 

Dear  Yank: 

I  have  read  your  article  on  demobilization  but 
nowhere  did  Lfind  an  answer  to  my  jproblem.  I 
know  iliat  I  will  get  a  point  a  month  for  each 
nuHCtth  of  service  pltis  an  extra  point  for  each 
mmXb  Qvezaeas.  Bowever,  since  I  never  even  got 
one  battle  star,  I  have  very  few  points.  What  I 
would  lika  ta  kaoK  ia»  where  do  my  dependents 
rate  so  fe*  as  poiiits  are  concernedT  wm  I  be 
allowed  points  nnr  ntv  twin  sisters  aged  nine,  my 
mother,  my  wife  and  my  two-^ear-old  son?  AU 
of  them  get  aUotments  so  there  is  no  questioa  but 
that  they  are  dependent  upon  me. 
•Hhiiii  -Pic.  THOMAS  «.  OKIWN 

■  Onhr  yevr  son  will  gat  ynu  any  peinli.  ChddfM  aie 
'  riie  only  dependents  who  may  be  counted  toward  the 
point  (core  under  the  plan.  Eo^  chHd,  up  to  a  maximum 
et  thra*,  counts  for  13  polMi. 

Playwrights 

Dear  Yank: 

Before  entering  the  Aamof  I  was  just  beginning 
to  get  going  as  a  writer.  I  had  sold  a  couple  of 
short  stories  and  was  working  on  a  fuU-Iength 


play.  I  even  discussed  the  play  with  a  well-known 
producer  who  indicated  that  he  might  be  inter- 
ested in  buying  it.  As  things  stand  I  would  need 
at  least  three  month.<;  after  I  am  discharged  to 
complete  the  play.  What  I  would  like  to  know 
is  whether  a  playwright  would  be  considered  a 
man  in  business  for  himself  SO  as  to  rate  unem- 
ployment compensation. 

Holy  -S/Sfll.  RICHAU  KRAMER 

■  As  you  probably  know  a  self-employed  veteran  is  en- 
titled to  unemploymeat  compensation  under  the  Gl  Bill  of 
Rights  if  he  earns  (ess  than  $100  a  month  from  his  busi- 
ness. In  such  tt  case  he  receive*  the  difference  between 
what  he  cams  (wliieli  in  yoar  eoM  wouM  be  zen^  and 
$100  a  month  for  up  to  a  maximum  of  52  weelis.  The 
Veteran's'  Administration  says  that  if  you  are  "fully  en- 
gaged as  a  playwright"  there  is  no  reason  that  you  could 
not  be-  considered  in  business  so  as  to  receive  the  unem- 


PilM  M 


What's  Your 
Problem? 


letters  to  this  departinent  should  beor  writer's 
full  name,  serial  number  and  military  address. 


pleyment  poymeht*.  However,  to  be  sure  of  recalviiig  llie 
money  a  vetimHi  inuti  be  fully  engaged  as  a  writer  and 
could  not  be  a  writer  one  week  and  fill  in  at  a  dark  bi  a 
itora  the  nexl  week. 

Insurance  BaiMfidariM 

Dear  Yank: 

My  father  who  is  87  years  old  and  very  ill  is 
the  beneficiary  of  my  GI  insurance  policy.  His 
doctor  tells  me  that  he  cannot  be  expected  to  last 
very  long.  If  he  should  pass  away  what  happens 
to  my  insurance  if  I  am  killed  in  action?  Assum- 
ing that  he  may  die  before  anything  happens  to 
me,  who  would  get  the  benefit  of  the  insurance 
in  such  a  case? 

Mamnm  —Pvt.  JOSEPH  W.  BEIL 

■  If  you  do  not  name  a  secondary  beneficiary  your  in- 
surance will  be  paid  to  the  following  in  the  order  named: 
1)  to  your  widow,  if  living;  2^  if  no  widow,  to  your  child 
or  "children  (including  odoptod  children)  in  equal  ihares] 
3)  if  no  widow  or  child,  to  your  other  porent;  4)  If  no 
widow,  childran  or  panntt,  to  your  brothers  and  litton 
(including  thow  of  tho  hoff-blood),  in  equal  ihares. 

SaldlM^s  Dabts 

DearYAnK: 

MCjr  wife  and  five  obildren  receive  a  total  family 
allotment  of  $160  a  month  from  the  OfBce  of 
Dependency  Benefits.  You  can  guess  how  tough 
it  &  for  the  six  of  them  to  live  on  that  amount. 
Now,  to  add  to  our  troubles,  our  loeai  furniture 
company  has  been  heckling  my  wife  for  the 
money  due  on  our  living  room  furniture.  We 
owe  so  little  on  the  total  bill  that  I  feel  sure  they 
will  not  try  to  grab  the  furniture,  but  they  have 
been  high-pressuring  my  wife.  Their  latest  move 
was  to  threaten  to  get  a  court  order  and  attach 
the  family  allotment  from  the  ODB.  Can  they 
get  away  with  that? 

Franc*  -S/Sgt.  LEN  t.  BROWNLEE 

■  They  cannot.  Family  ollotmeDts  paid  by  the  OOB  may 
not  be  claimed  or  attached  by  any  person  or  agency  to 


collect  a  debt.  If  the  furniture  company  should  try  to  get 
rough  ond  grab  the  furniture  your  wife  can  ask  the  court 
to  hold  up  its  action  until  you  get  out  of  service.  As  a  Gl 
you  ore  ontMed  to  lha<  protaclion  undor  the  SoMleis'  and 
Sallen'  CMI  Relief  Act. 

Former  Bookia 

Dear  Yank:   

In  coniiecti<m  wMh  a  loan  mder  te  GI  BHI 

Rights  what  chance  do  I  have  with  the  following 
background: 

Prior  to  my  entry  into  the  Army  in  1939  I  was 
employed  as  a  bookie,  a  little  deal  which  the 
public  of  those  days  considered  a  bit  shady  and 
illegitimate.  Though  I  received  a  substantial  in- 
come 1  came  into  the  Army  dead  broke  as  a  re- 
sult of  bad  investments. 

During  my  entire  time  in  tiie  Anajr  J 1 
no  time  under  AW  107,  thouf^  I  hav«  &iS  al 


difficulty  retaining  grades.  I  have  been  all  the 
way  up  the  ladder  twice,  up  to  technical  sergeant, 
and  at  the  present  time  am  optimistically  l(Mking 
forward  to  my  third  climb.  Do  you  think  1  would 
be  denied  the  privilege  of  a  loan  in  view  of  my 
pre-war  occupation? 

I  am  married  to  a  former  member  of  the  , 
and  We  would  like  to  know  if  we  can  i 
rights  to  the  loan  for  the  purchase  of  m  < 
the  financing  of  a  legitimate  bustaiesBT 

Hawoif 


the  AMC 


Digitized 


■  YANK  cannot  tell  you  whether  or  not  your  bank  or 
financial  institution  will  consider  you  a  good  risk.  How- 
•vef  w«  can  tell  you  that  the  business^loan  regulations 
state  that  a  veteran  must  be  able  to  satisfy  his  bank  and 
the  Veterans'  Administration  that  he.  has  a  reosonabla 
likelihood  of  success  in  the  business  he  is  planning.  Since 
the  government  guarantees  only  fO  percent  of  o  loon  of  up 
to  $4,000  for  each  vet,  the  bonk  xHll  hot  to  be  conwineed 
that  the  money  is  In  good  hands,  there  ate  no  MstrieHens 
ogoinst  two  or  more  vets  going  into  business  or  buyiflO  a 
home  together  ond  with  the  help  of  your  wcfe't  guaran- 
tee you  may  be  able  to  swing  the  deal. 


(JMlV£RSlT¥Oi=  MlCHiGAN 


O'Donnell  Calls  His  Shots 

ii^Hls  outfit,"  said   Tommy   O'Donnell   as  a 
I  sudden  gust  of  desert VA'ind  blew  dust  in  our 
faces,  "is  never  going  overseas." 

I  reached  for  another  bottle  of  Schlitz  and 
Tommy  rolled  down  the  side  of  our  pyramidal 
tent.  "You  see,"  he  explained,  "we've  been  too 
long  in  the  goddam  desert.  With  all  th)S  dust  in 
us  we  ain't  fit  for  combat." 

I  stretched-  out  on  my  cot  and  Tommy  said, 
"They're  gonna  use  us  here  for  experiiQeittal 
purposes— that's  what  We  pull  a  maneuvei^  <i#^ 
week  and  then  they  use  the-same  thing  ia  Eu- 
rope the  next.  That's  why  all  our  mail  will  soon 
be  cerwored.  And  boy,  they're  gonna  keep  us 
busy.  Three-day  passes  are-  out.  It's  gonna  be 
goddam  tough,  pal." 

After  we  had  left  the  desert  and  neared  the 
completion  of  our  ninth  month  on  Oahu.  Tommy 
O'Donnell  said  to  me  as  we  downed  the  rem- 
nants of  the  contents  of  a  bottle  of  '99:  "South 
Pacific,  my  eye,  we've  been  so  long  on  this  rock 
that  a  little  more  heat  would  kill  us,  W^t  every 
man  in  this  outfit  woidd  ke^  over  ^(pMl  la  that 
hot  sun.  • 

"Pal,"  he  added,  "what  we  all  need  is  a  dis- 
charge.' 

The  rumor  was  cuDent  that  we  were  going 
to  Leyte  but  Tommy  O'Donnell  wouldn't  be- 
lieve it. 

"You  see,"  he  said  to  mc  as  we  sat  in  the  hold 
of  our  LSM,  "this  is  going  to  be  a  dry  run.  I'll 
lay  two  to  one  that  they  land  us  on  Maui." 

After  four  weeks  of  steady  seasickness,  Tommy 
O'Donnell  scratched  his  wrinkled  face.  "We're 
making  a  circle,"  he  said  excitedly,  "watch  and 
see — we're  making  a  circle." 

We  circled  in  Leyte  harbor  for  awhile  until 
the  -beachmaster  signalled  us  to  pull  in.  Tommy 
O'Donnell,  mounted  his  duffel  bag.  which  was 
over  half  his  size,  on  his  shoulder. 

"Two  weeks  the  island's  been  secured,"  he 
complained,  "two  weeks  and  they  land  us  here. 
Buddy,  I'm  finding  a  big  hole  to  sleep  in.  "There's 
no  telling  what  might  happen." 

After  foiu*  weeks  on-  Leyte — four  weeks  in 
which  we  had  not  heard  a  shot  fired  or  a  bomb 
fall — after  four  glorious  weete  <tf  disking  tuba 
and  corn  whisky,  Tommy  013(^ell  said  to  n» 
as  we  walked  down  a  muddty  l^cloban  street, 
"^ey  don't  have  any  use  for  tanks  in  the  jungle. 
They're  making  MPs  out  of  us." 

Several  days  later  we  were  briefed  about  an 
island.  They  told  us  it  lay  somewhere  between 
the  I%ilippines  and  Japan.  The  people  were  of 
mixed  Chinese-Korean -Japanese  ancestry.  The 
China  sea  bordered  it  on  the  left,  and  we  weren't 
going  to  learn  the  real  name  of  the  island  until 
we  were  on  the  ship. 

Tommy  O'Donnell,  who  knows  his  geography 
well.  said.  "That  sounds  like  it  might  be  in  the 
Ryukyus  Islands — but  I  don't  think  we'll  go 
there  because  they've  made  it  too  (jbvious. 

"We,"  he  said,  "are  going  to  hit  China." 

Tommy,  although  an  originator  of  many  a  ru- 
mor, is  himself  not  gullible  to  those  inspired 
iQr  other  persms.  When  we  boarded  the  LSM. 


"Min  la  Owpl^  M  wlMt  do  yen  onribMa  yo«r 


PX 

Contriburions   for   this   page  should 
be  oddressed  to  the  Post  Exchonge, 
YANK,  The  Army  Weekly,  205  East 
42d  Street,  New  York  17,  N.  Y. 


"Break  it  off  on  the  end." 

.-Ci>l   Fronk  R.  Robinion,  Ft.  Monniouth.  N.  I 

everyone  believed  we  were  going  to  an  island 
in  the  Ryukyus,  but  Tommy  was  busily  studying 
his  Chinese-^Ameriraa  language  boe^  which  he 
had  purchased  in  Los  Aligeles. 

On  O-day  minus  one  as  our  swetvfjy  neared  the 
Oktnawan  shcne,  Tomsny  ODomi^  his  ehin 
resting  on  the  deek's  rail,  admitted,  "Yes,  we're 
goiag  to  OUnawa — but  this  outfit  is  so  damned 
rusty  that  well  never  get  to  fire  a  shot." 

That  night  we  took  a  final  sip  of  Elthyl  alcohol 
thanks  to  the  accommodating  chief  pharmacist's 
mate  aboard  ship  and  later  we  sang  aongs. 
Tommy  didn't  sing.  He  drank. 

After  we  surmounted  the  coral  reef  the  fol- 
lowing morning.  Tommy  said  to  me  over  the  in- 
terphone. "I'll  bet  there's  a  million  dead  Japs  in 
those  tombs  up  ahead." 

All  day  we  didn't  fire  a  shot  and  Tommy's  pre- 
diction would  have  been  right  if  a  Jap  hadn't 
looked  down  the  barrel  of  our  75mm  gun  about 
midnight.  Davis,  who  had  been  sleeping  in  the 
lank  spotted  him  and  fired  a  round  of  AP  into 
his  skull. 

The  shell  did  not  go  all  the  way  through  but 
it  was  enough  to  kill  the  Jap. 

During  the  next  week.  Tommy  O'Donnell 
didn't  say  a  word  about  what  was  going  to  hap- 
pen. He  was  too  scared  and  too  busy  fighting. 

When  finally  we  did  get  to  Test  aaa.  total  our 
score  we  had  accounted  for  aevm  1^  artillery 
pieces  and  150  Japs. 

"We're  just  goddamed  lucky,"  Tommy  O'Don- 
nell said. 

'3ut  we  ain't  going  back  to  the  front,"  he  told 
me  as  we  drank  from  a  Jap  sake  battle  which 
much  to  our  dismay  contained  water,  "because 
we're  battle  fatigued.  I  know  I  ain't  one  to  go 
back.  Ba^4y,  Tm  all  shut." 

"^ep,  ifs  been  a  great  rest  period,"  I  said  to 
the  crew  as  we  moved  to  the  front.  "I  only 
wish  it  could  have  lasted  loQCer." 

Tommy  O'Donnell  spirted  a  Jap  mortar  po- 
sitian  near  Shuxi  Castle  aoad  lad  Ids  gimaer  fire 
a  few  xouads  into  it  Tlie  mortar  was  knocked 
out  and  Tommy  said,  "^m  a  damnSd  good  thing 
they  didn't  blow  our  bc&ds  off.**  ' 

When  Tommy  saw  a  wounded  doni^ibasr  near 
the  tank,  he  got  out  and  gave  him  flat  md  while 
Jap  shrapnel  fell  close.  Then  he  lam^it  him  up 
through  the  escape  hutch  of  the  tanlr.  1^  this 
they  gave  Tommy  O'Donnell  a  m»^*a^ 

"They're  making  a  big  mistake,"  lie  mattered 
when  his  name  was  called,  "but  five  pmnts  is  five 
points  in  anybody's  money." 

"Now,"  he  said.  "I  can  go  back  to  the  States." 

You  know  what  that  means — -Tokio. 

Oikmowo 


I  must  go  down  to  Delhi  ayain 
To  see  all  the  Wacs  and  the  Waafs 
And  all  I  ask  is  ii  ten-day  leave 
And  some  travel-time,  perhaps; 
And  the  wind  will  blow  and  the  scotch  will  flow 
And  the  chow  will  be  steak,  not  spam. 
And  the  sack  will  be  soft  and  the  floor-not  dirt'. 
If  Tm  late,  who  gives  a  damn? 

I  must  go  down  to  Delhi  again 
Where  there's  no  such  thing  as  mud, 
Where  the  streets  are  paved  and  the  men  are 
shaved 

And  the  girls  are  as  many  as  men. 
And  all  I  ask  is  a  long,  cool  drink 
And  a  pretty  girl  by  my  side 
And  a  long  good-by  and  a  drawa^>ut  sigh 
As  1  lake  the  Road  in  stride. 

fmlio  -Cpl.  IRV  MAROBt 


'^•'ra  out  at  rad  poliils— 1  hep*  you  don't  mltid 

talcing    pOl    lock."       -a   C  Alfred  Zolon.  Corl.bod  AAf,  N  M 


CHAMGE  OFADDRESs:;;;;^: 

■cfibet  vnd  iMve  chmpetl  y^tt  vMraH^  VBiLiKi  €MyMi 

lo9«riwr  with  the  moflinfl  addrMi  on  your  lotatt  YANK 
»o  notify  ui  of  th*  change.  Mail  il  to  YANK,  Th«  Army 
WooUy.  aOS  Ead  42d  SirMt,  Itow  York  17,  N.  Y.,  oad 
VAMK  wM  fahw  ymt  *•  wmr  pmit  ml  the  wmM. 


-Pfc  DAN  OOU 


INCIDENT 


Earth  will  outlive  her  pockmarked  face. 
On  some  dim  midn^bt,  far  fnwn  xmm. 
All  that  troubled  our  anyry  race 
Will  wrinkle  a  history  ctoldent^  brow. 

AAf,  Lm.  ~*/S^tmSBX 


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01=  MlCHiGAN 


Basic  Training 


By  Sgt.  WALTER  Bf  RNSTBN 
YAMC  Staff  Wrilwr 

CAMP  Wheiier,  Ga. — ^Basic  infantry  training 
has  changed  since  the  days  when  people 
still  thought  they  were  getting  out  in  a  year. 
It's  smarter,  better  tau^t  and  move  realistic.  It 
has  to  be.  When  trainees  finish  their  cycle  now, 
they  don't  go  out  on  maneuvers.  They  go  right 
overseas  and  into  the  line. 

Hiis  policy  was  started  when  the  decision  was 
made  not  to  form  any  more  new  divisions,  ^lat 
was  long  before  VE-Day.  Everything  is  done  now 
on  the  replacement  system. 

This  system  will  continue  during  the  war 
against  Japan  and,  according  to  Army  Ground 
Forces,  the  training  cycle  will  also  remain  basi- 
cally the  same  as  it  was  before  Germany  was 
defeated. 

Emphasis  will  be  placed  on  new  weapons,  says 
AGF,  and  there  will  be  some  variation  in  the  use 
of  old  weapons,  "as  their  use  conforms  to  lessons 
learned  in  the  Pacific."  But  otherwise  the  same 
fundamental  methods  of  killing  an  enemy  will 
be  retained  and  the  main  changes  will  be  those 
normally  made  in  keeping  the  cycle  constantly 
up  to  date. 

Back  in  IMl,  when  Camp  Wheeler  was  set  up 
as  the  first  Infantry  Replacement  Training  Center, 
its  basic  training  cycle  was  13  weeks.  After  basic 
training,  the  trainees  were  shipped  to  divisions, 
where  they  learned  to  work  as  a  team  Today, 
Wheeler  is  still  turning  out  infantrymen,  but  the 
cycle  has  been  upped  to  IS  weeks  (for  quite  a 
while  it  was  17)  and  the  men  go  out  as  individual 
replacement 

This  plan  is  based  on  ^mple  necessity.  A  cer- 
tain number  of  men  are  continually  needed  over- 
seas and  the  WD  figures  a  constant  iS-week 


training  program  of  replacements  will  take  care 
of  the  quota. 

This  whole  business  of  replacements  has  caused 
a  lot  of  bitching,  particularly  by  combat  men 
overseas.  Most  gripes,  however,  seem  to  be  caused 
by  the  incurable  fact  that  men  can't  be  sent  into 
combat  knowing  already  what  combat  is  like. 

But  there  have  been  more  specific  complaints: 
Men  trained  only  as  riflemen  being  sent  to  heavy 
weapons  companies  or  sent  into  the  line  without 
a  chance  to  know  the  men  they  are  fighting  with, 
or  left  to  grow  mold  in  a  repple  depple  until 
they  forget  everything  they  knew,  or  just  sent  up 
front  without  knowing  what  the  hell  is  going  on. 

These  complaints  appear  to  have  some  justifi- 
cation, but  the  faults  don't  lie  primarily  with  the 
IRTCs.  The  IRTCs  have  no  control  over  replace- 
ments'once  theyve  finished  training.  The  only 
job  of  a  center  like  Camp  Wheeler  is  to  make 
infantrymen  out  of  civilians  in  a  very  short  period 
— on  the  basis  of  a  curriculum  handed  down  by 
Army  Ground  Forces  through  the  Replacement 
and  School  Command. 

They  do  this  job  well  enough,  according  to  most 
of  the  ex-combat  men  who  are  now  cadremen 
and  instructors  here  at  Wheeler.  Many  of  the 
cadremen  with  whom  I  talked  think  the  course 
could  be  in^roved  one  way  or  another,  but  on 
the  whole  they  feel  this  particular  IRTC  uses  the 


c 


chauffeurs. 

Oril:|in^^l  from 
UNIVERSITY  Of  M 


15  weeks  about  as  well  as  could  be  expected. 

This  is  actually  saying  a  good  deal,  since  15 
weeks  is  not  all  the  time  in  the  world.  There  have 

been  many  changes  in  the  curriculum  as  the  Army 
has  grown  up,  and  the  course,  nearly  everybody 
agrees,  is  being  improved  all  the  time. 

For  instance,  the  tactical  emphasis  used  to  be 
entirely  on  company  tactics;  now  it  is  on  squad 
and  platoon  tactics.  There  used  to  be  little  hve 
firing;  now  there  are  14  more  firing  V^^f"^ 
than  there  were  a  year  ago.  Trainees  used  to- 
spend  only  three  days  in  the  field;  now  t 
spend  two  weeks  in  bivouac,  with  16  hours 
night  work  each  week.  There  used  to  be  six  h^ 
of  military  courtesy  and  much  close-order 
this  has  been  cut  down,  although  many 
men  think  it  could  be  cut  even  more. 

UNDER  the  present  system  the  first  six  W— — 
are  given  over  to  Branch  Immateriel  Tram- 
ing.  This  includes  military  courtesy,  sex  hyg»ene, 
mines  and  booby  traps,  malaria  control,  map 
reading,  marksmansh^  and  other  fundamentais. 

The  next  nine  weeks  are  specialized.  Wheeie 
is  set  up  to  train  18  battalions  each  c^cle  mcma- 
ing  one  heavy  weapons  and  one  sP*^~jf",, 
talion.  The  remaining  16  are  all 
The  specialist  battaUoa  includes  two  a«»*^^ 
of  chauffeurs,  one  eomoany  of  messase  c««w 


personnel  and  one  company  of  l»ioneer  troofw. 

During  the  specialized  weeJu,  trainees  in  the 
rifle  battalions  get  79  hours  in  Tactical  Training 
ot  the  Individual  Soldier,  which  takes  In  scouting 
and  patrolling,  cover  and  movement,  hasty  forti- 
ileatioaa  and  not-so-hasty  fortifications.  The  men 
get  M  iKNira  on  the  tMjronet.  103  hours  on  the  Ml, 
eight  on  the  earbiae,  48  on  the  BAK,  62  on  the  light 
mnrH"  (nn,  M  on  the  fiO-mm  mortar,  74  on 
tabttef  and  eifbt  on  close  combat  and  infiltration 
eouTfes.  All  the  hifantry  weapons  are  fleld-fired 
^         and  live  ammunition  is  used  in  the  infiltration 
course. 

Most  of  the  formal  instruction  is  handled  by 
officers  and  it  ia  done  .strictly  by  the  bonk.  If  It 
iant  in  tlie  FM  it  ian't  taught,  even  if  it  worked 
for  you  from  Bougainville  to  Luzon.  But  the  im- 
portant tiling  ia  that  the  FMs  are  constantly 
reviaed  according  to  lessons  learned  in  combat. 

Reports  from  overseas  are  received  and 
studied  all  the  time.  Their  recommendations 
are  incorporated  into  the  manuals.  The  system 
may  be  rigid  in  the  sense  that  no  deviation  linMi 
the  FM  is  allowed,  but  the  manual  itself  t»  defi- 
nitely flexible,  and  the  instruction  is  always  ud 
to  date.  ' 

Because  a  program  as  big  as  this  one  must 
be  standardized,  enlisted  cadremen  do.  nat  iftm 
struct,  although  they  implement  lectunt  W 
advice  in  the  field  and  coaching  on  the  range 
TW»  lias  fOd  aonae  of  the  former  combat  men.' 
who  claim  that  they  are  not  aUowed  to  pass  on 
what  they've  learned  by  experience,  but  it  seems 
Frt*iL^'^"/,.*^"'  '^■ve  men  leaving 

15  IRTCs  full  of  specialized  combat  knowledge 
familtar  only  to  a  particular  outfit  The  ^ 
Mjv  that  a  trainee  would  onfy  become  confused 
tt  he  were  taught  In  the  same  cycle  by  men  who 
na  Mme  from  differen-  theaters  bringin«  with 
th«n  a-conlUcting  variety  of  methods. 

Some  of  the  cadremen  claim  tiiat  this  '"»Vot 
for  a  situation  in  which  a  young  ofllcer  without 
any  expenence  tries  to  tell  trainees  what  to  do 
When  men  with  combat  experience  are  forbid- 
den to  do  w.  About  30  percent  of  the  officers  have 
been  overseas;  the  rest  may  be  over  age.  limited 
service  or  fresh  out  of  OCS.  Iliew  n^  lecond 
lieutenante  are  sent  to  IRTCs  mainly  for  erne. 

U^O^  «,  th^  ^  ^ 

The  t^diing  here  u  done  on  the  committee 


Aysten.  similar  to  that  of  the  Intoitry  School 
Bidi  battalion  has  a  mortar  coinlitfttw^  Ml'eani- 

mittee  and  so  on,  made  up  of  cadre  oflken  and 

enlisted  men  who  teach  only  that  specialty.  The 
only  trouble  with  this  system,  according  to  the 
major  in  charge  of  battle  courses,  is  that  the 
penonnel  of  the  committaea  U  not  paonaBMit 
Qflkers  are  always  bdOg  shipped  out  and  the 
members  of  the  committee  changing. 

Two  nights  a  week  cadre  officers  and  men 
must  attend  Cadre  School.  Instruction  is  dis- 
cussed at  these -sessions,  so  that  all  the  instructors 
will  know  what  is  expected  of  them.  Practically 
aU_  the  cadremen  I  saw  disliked  thi-;  ^rVi,,ni 
claiming  that  combat  men  :  j  •  ■  ^^.j  •ji^.jj' 
mouths  without  Laving  the  manual  pulled  on 
tncxn. 


0  «KL?«'"'^.tl  cadremen  as  to 

W  particular,  of  the  course  itself,  although  most 
of  them  tMnlc  it  quite  adequate  as  a  whok  A 

SSug"h  iTaly  ^fd'^^A'^r'^'  ^'^^ 

bette^yeaV^mbJ^^'^e'did'w^^^^^ 
trained.  But  there's  too  mudi      thU  .1^    .  T 

|^^rs^7piirbtt*rthrM 

the  men  can  see  right  there  why  it's^^i  ^otZ 
in^t2r.i!i  "!2^'r"f,'!^  Wth  Division 

•aacn  these  men  is  to  stanrf  ''""s 

front  like  a  bic-a8ae<l  VtirJ  -Hj  ^  oe  out  In 
follow  the  m"  they  always 

r~'"~™  THey  throw  the  stufl  at  ttw 

tealneet  too  faat  and  tUqr  don't  let  SfovSiS 


Today 


It's  only  a  1  S-waek  course, 
but  it's  more  ramplete  and 
better  taught  than  it  used 
to  be  four  years  ago. 


Fi.ld  firing  th«  M-1  in  combat  patrol  clauM,  TIm  Him 
<«M.in.  largaH  which  pop  up  bof^a  Ike 

men  talk  to  them.  They  should  have  at  l«o.t 
one  hour  .  week  f or  a  buU  awSmTt^*^ 
trainees  and  the  combat  melr^     ^  *** 

PraS?  ilrh  °'       'eth  Division  in 

rxance.  The  weapons  training  is  aood  w  .u 
don't  get  enough  time  on  the  Ml 
inspections  are  a  waste  of  tlmf         ^  ^ 
they  Should  inspe^l'^e  m^u^  ^ 

chS:;.\rotJ!irt£"ira  »«h 
They  teach  theM  ^yl  a  hpf.  '^JT 
think  they  onETC  lS  wt£  U"*'  "1**"  ^ 
I  think  theyVw  WMiT  I.  .  ■  ^^^V  Place 
They  don't Tet^Jrlv  ^n""l«  ""^  PatroU^ 
.hould  ^     t  m^^"Vp"Z'colJ^*^ 

A  platoon  sergeant  JiL  u  j  ^'"P'**  work." 
43d  Division  to  O^pJ^^  Jl    ^^O^'^h  ^he 
get  half  Mough^L52?a2  1!.'*/  ".T"^ 
ticaUy  all  wedid  to  ihf  p2?ia**"""« 
of  work.  One  good  Z'?  ^ 

instruction  in  first  aUi'n^u  » 
A  rifleman  from  the"  Jf  »>»«<ly  " 

nap  and  natrol  ^^'u    *r^'^">°n  said:  "More 


instruction  in  fim  alTiCtV   ^ 

A  rifleman  from  the"  Jf  »>»«<ly  " 

map  and  patrol  work  AU„      "'""^  ^'<^-  "More 

films  are  out  o  late  The v'.hrl,°*  ^'««'4 

better  movie..                ^.if''""^'*  more  and 

course,  is  M^ut  th!„  1^  b^tOe 

"»t.  They  Iwid  enough^ 

training."                     set  womt  mmm^iZ 

.hJ^w'KaS'^""-  that  there 

chicken.  An  S^^SS^hT^ha'^'^f"'??  *"'*  ^^''^ 

ji^L'p.  .^w^^^ry\re  i^s^-s  ^ 

ttto,  we  get  m  more  of  that  work  toaS^  w^J^ 
d|^  and  we  would  squeeze  in  more  11  wI  c^SS 
The  bivouac  period  is  also  not  ra^Z,^^ 
but  you  have  to  NiaaaSta* 
these  men  were  alldv^m."  ^ 
That  is  what  you  hear  all  over  Wheeler:  Time 
tune,  tun*  Everything  in  the  course  must 
necessary,  because  there  is  no  margin  tor  error 
I  found  only  two  major  differences  of  opinion 
Jetween  enlisted  cadremen  and  officers  on  how 
the  time  is  spent  at  this  IRTC.  The  cadremen 
feel  that  there  is  too  much  formal  discipline, 
and  that  this  time  could  be  better  spent  on 
weapons  or  tactical  combat  work.  The  officers  feel 
strongly  that  this  dlac^Iinaty  tegbint  H  tmim^ 
sary  to  make  a  soldier. 

Then  most  of  the  officers  to  whom  I  spoke, 
partictilarly  ttwae  removed  from  acttial  contact 
with  the  men,  felt  that  the  22  hours  given  to 
Orientation  could  Y>e  cut,  and  the  time  allotted 
to  other  work. 

Practically  all  the  cadremen  I  met  thought  that  _ 
the  orientation  hours  were  a  good  idea.  Tbeu 

 :_j  •  "Tf'o  good  because  it  maKcs 

"      .  I   . 


Kood  because  a  man 
"  But  -tbear-all 


kSlrf  orfiwrtrttaa.  P«*»« 


reasons  varied  from  "It's 
the  blood  boil."  to  "It's 
should  know  wlki**^ 
thought  that 

was  valuable.  ..-ohasis  on  orientation. 

On  the  whole,  this  e"P»;"^^dication  of  how 
slight  as  it  U.  f^fL'clfaL^S  The  cycle  at 
infantry  t'*"*"**  ^  ^  the  individual  in.tia- 
Wheeler  tries  ,*''f«jf'friS  to  raake  him  f^l 
Uve  of  each  V*'^- J*,^up.  he  is  also  a  man 
;Lt  while  he»P«li*^i^self  and.  it  necessary. 


that  while 
who  must 


look  OWt 


tt^t  during  the  ft';^„"'ot'\ra!n^''s 
rute^'^S.Sit3Ss2,-f-er^ 


lieutenant  . 
to  ta>te  orders 
to  thiols- 

7:!!rirans^dleri» 


first  W.?«X. 


American^ 
going  on. 
*  Infantry 


pMsed  only 
„ot  being  pa'd 

,e  is  told: 

"^.S't 


tn 


baa 


cban***** 


^Jriqiii  ";'  ■!  "  iTi 

(JMlV£RSlT¥Oi=  MlCHiGAN 


YANK  l>  nklltlMd  oMkly  by  ilx  enloUO 
■MH  «f  tiM  U.  ft.  Amy  Md  It  (»r  ule  ofily  to 
.lk*H  ia  U>  >r«4  unlML  fturln.  Intirn. 
(Ularn  M»4  •Umt  •illarld  Inm  YANK  nay  ka 
NX  If  tlM«  an  IM  raatrMad  k>  law  ar 


•JmH!  ratalatlaai.  aravIM  iMm  m*lt  il 
•l«aa.  rakau  aataa  aia  a>ian«<  an*  ••aaMa 
arlar  aarailulaa  Hat  kaaa  vMttmmj^tm 


arlar  aari 

ta  ba  rayrarfucaa.  Eatir* 
IMS,  by  Cal.  FraaUla  S. 
ky  U.  ft.  aillltary  aaaaara. 

■AIM  EDITamAL  OFriCI 
3H  IA«T  4M  BTRCET.  NEW  YORK  17.  H.  Y. 

EDITORIAL  STAFF 

■amlM  E<ltar.  BtL  Jaa  KcCartby.  FA:  An 
DIraalar,  «<t.  Artkar  Wallkaa.  OEML:  Aialt. 
tM  taatlaf  Edilar.  BfL  Aamt  Laak.  AAF: 
Aaalalaat  An  olraaM.  M.  Rdak  XIala.  Mti. : 
rialaraa.  %tl.  Laa  Hatallar.  Ara><.:  raalaraa. 
tft.  BartI  Emm.  lat.:  Svarti.  Cal.  Taai 
Skakaa.  FA:  Oaawaaa  E4llar.  ML  Al  Miaa. 
Exr.;  U.  t.  E<ltar,  tit.  Hilary  H.  Lyaaa. 
CA:  AiiMlata  E<ltaf».  (at.  laka  Hay.  lal.; 
C>l.  Mariarat.  Oaaii.  WAC:  Sfl.  Ralak  Bayia. 
AAF:  Cat.  Ma>  Nataak.  TC. 

WASHINaTON.  Sft.  Barratl  Hfaara.  mtt.. 
>tt.  N.  H.  OllakMI.  Cafr.:  Cal.  J>ka  Haaar. 
9ll<k.  CA. 

FRANCE.  Ml.  MarU  Mllltl.  AAF:  Ml 
Wllllaia  Frarar.  AAF:  Ml.  Ma<k  Marrlu.  lal  : 
Ml.  t4  Camlafkaai.  lat.:  Ml-  Haward  Bfadlc. 
Sil.  Caraa:  tft.  Allaa  Eakar.  AAF:  Ml.  R<l 
Kaaqr,  Arari.:  lit  Rakarl  MaPriaih  Wk- 
Carpt:  tit.  Mak  I.  MmWm,  Mad.;  Int.  tmrm 
■ann,  AAF:  c*i.  nt  eia.  nit:  cat! 
HanrI  KalBwaar.  CA:  1^.  Daka  ilyan.  FA: 
Ht.  OnM  Wkltiaaik.  AAF:  PM.  DkaH  Barwr. 


BRITAIN,  Ml.  Durbia  L.  Haraar.  CA:  ML 
Eart  AMaraaa.  AAF:  Sft.  Fraak  Br«afL  Maf.: 
«•!.  Fraaali  Barka.  AAF:  Cal.  laak  Cafalaa. 
CA:  CtL  Edaiaaa  Aalrakat.  lal.:  Cal.  Ta« 
FlaaMn.  AAF:  Sft.  Rafalpb  Saalaff.  AAF. 

AUSTRALIA-PMILIPPINCB.  ML  Ula- 
yalle  Lubt.  AAF:  ML  Ckwk  Ratba.  DEHL: 
Sfl.  Daailai  Barfilafl.  OEML:  tfL  OIU 
Haalay.  AAF:  ItL  (tula  «.  Saana.  lal.:  tft. 
Rafar  Wraaa.  Mi.  Carfa;  BfL  Ckarba  O. 
Paanaa.  Eafr.:  Bfl.  Mm  Mataaf.  Maf.:  tft. 
Maryla  Faali,  Eafr. :  Cal.  Jaa  Btataaaltl.  Ealr. : 


HaaMlllan.  FA:  Pfi.  Dala  Kraaiar.  MP:  M>. 

Qaarfa  Bakar.  ftlf.  Cam:  Cal.  Fraak  Baak. 
AAF:  Bit.  Rafar  W.  Caiaaa,  CA:  ML  Jaak 
Cr«aa.  Maf.;  tft.  Llaaal  Watkall.  Eafr. 

6IHTRAL  PACIFIC,  tft.  Larry  MaMunn. 
CA:  nt.  Saarta  Barat.  Ma.  Caraa:  Pit.  Itki 
O.  Araiilraaf.  laf.:  tft.  Bill  Raaf,  lal.:  Cfl. 
laaiai  Gabla.  Ariaf.:  CpL  Taf  Bwraan.  DEMI: 


(PR 


CPkaM. 


Rabertt    Sli.  USNR: 

U3NR.  tiai  Li.li  wiiua.  BIf.  Caraa. 

MARIANAS.  Cal.  Ta*  O-Brlaa.  DEML: 
Sfl.  DM  Farm.  AAF:  SfL  Jaak  Rffa.  DEML: 
Sal  Paul  Shman.  AAF:  Pit.  Jaitia  Cray. 
Raayart.  Robcrl  Schaaru  Y2«.  UBN. 

ITALY.  Ml  Harry  Slaai.  AAF:  tat.  Oaa 
Pallar.  AAF:  Sfl.  NalMa  Gruaaa.  Eaar.:  Cfl. 
Saarat  Barratt  AAF:  Pit.  Ira  Fraaaiaa.  Cay.: 
Pit.  Daaa  tkaw.  lal.:  ML  Daa  Bralaihurit. 
AAF:  Pit.  Waraar  Walt.  tlf.  Caraa. 

INDIA-BURMA    aaf   CHINA.    ML  Paul 
Jakaalaa,  AAF:  Sat.  Gaaraa  J.  Carbelllal  Slf. 
Carat:  ML  Davt  RItharftan.  CA:  Sal.  Walttr 
Pattn.  AM:  Cal.  lad  Caak.  DEML. 
ALASKA.  Sft:  Ray  Daaiaa.  AAF. 
MANAMA.  Cfl.  RItkarf  Daatlaia,  Maf. 


AFRICA-MIDDLE  EABT-PEMIJtH  BULF. 

HAW,  DfffM  Mafitt  B»<X)Sl! 

■ 

^^Caaaiaadlat  OMiar,  Cal.  FraHlhl  B.  Faia- 

£aa«tl«i  OMcar.  LL  Cal.  latk  W.  Waakt. 

Batlaau  Mariaaar,  Ma|.  Narth  Bifkta. 

Prtturtmaat  Oihar.  Mai.  Btrald  J.  Ratk. 

OVERSEAS  BUREAU  OFFICERS.  Frantt. 
U.  Cal.  Cbarlat  L.  Hall,  Caat.  H.  stakMy 
Tkaaiaiaa,  aulttaal:  Srilala.  Maj.  Hairy  R. 
Rtkarti:  Auttralla-Plilllaalan.  Lt.  Cal.  HvaM 
a.  Hawlay:  Canlral  gaath  PatlSt.  LI.  Cal.  iaaaa 
Eaalaftr;  Mariaaaa.  Mai.  laatut  I.  Crataiar: 
lUly.  Caat.  Havard  Caravtll.  LI.  latk  Sllrar. 
•tala.  aailtlaM:  Banaa-lafia.  Caat.  Hartid  A 
Barraffka:  AlMka.  CmL  Brady  E.  Clay  Ir.. 
'r«k.  CM.  Frt*  aGdata^a:  Paaaaia.  11. 
Charlaa  H.  E.  tiaktlalalf :  MMfla  Eatt.  Caat. 
Kaavltta  Aaita:  Paarta  Rita.  CaaL  FraiMli 


This  WmK's  Cwr 

THE.  OrtaMiifl  a  lleiw  by  rtw  hoof 
is  ,T-4  Nmidii  Ikala,  «  U«di«Blrii 
fraat'Bgin,  IN.  H»  it  in  a  dctatbRlwit 
of  iBldhia  «li«  Mr*  aaiian*d  ts  bvy 
horaM'  frwa  A*  lolw  In  CMm.  Slwy 
and  RMfB  pictam  on  pogat  8, 9  and  10. 

PHOTO  CREDITS.  Catar— Cal.  Jad  CMik. 
a—INP.  9— Atau.  9— Sal.    Dia  Bralabaril 

«— Pit.  Wiiatr  Walt.  a.  I  A  id— cai.  Caak. 
II  IS— Mflff  PaiaUi  CPkaM.  II  4  17- 
BHaal  Ctrif.  IBoVAMK.  at— UflHttal.  21- 
INP.  M  BIf iiiitiw  «a«ifal  HtSHaL  Cal 
n— War  WilaiaWg  AftkaiHy. 


The  life  MUitair9  . 

Dear  Yawk: 

I  wondpr  whether  the  brigadier  gen- 
eral who  sal  Jted  Gen.  JodI  and  the  other 
Nazi  crim'.ials  will  also  touch  his  fore- 
head rev  jently  to  the  ground  and  say 
"Banzai*  as  he  receives  Hirohito's  sur- 
render. 

Sucb  action  is  traitorous  to  the  spirit 
of  Tfiomas  Jefferaon  and  a  direct  slap  in 
the  fatie  to  every.  American  soldier  who 
is  aghting  against  htiman  degradation. 
He  saluted  both  a  man  and  a  uniform 
which  represent  rnggnmbaa  and  torture 
camps.  It  was  a  enffhapttMe  action  and 
demands  an  apolocy. 

Fronco  ~Mt.  LIONEl  DWIM 

Dear  YAin: 

A  few  days  ago  our  unit  was  subjected 
to  one  of  the  most  disgusting  and  dis- 
graceful pieces  of  military  procedure 
ever  heard  x>f  by  as.  Ouf  battalion  was 
formed  i  dress  right,  dress,  and  open 
ranJcs)  and  a  common  German  "slut"  was 
allowed  to  walk  among  us  in  search  of  a 
Gl  who  she  claimed  had  raped  her.  For- 
tunately, hei^  scrutiny  was  to  no  avail, 
but  the  impression  upon  the  "defendants" 
wearing  the  uniform  of  the  U.S.  was 
lasting. 

Since  when  does  a  conquering  nation 
allow  such  disgusting  spectacles?  It  seems 
that  we  wearers  of  ttiat  proud  uniform 
deserve  bettor  treatment  after  all  the 
heartaches,  destruction  and  misery  these 
barbarous  Germans  lave  tooii^t  upon 
the  world.  Have  we  aa^  OUT  mS^Bcs  dte 
so  that  we  can  be  tu/i  ei  such  onfragB- 
ous  procedure? 

Gariminy  .MeNMHTt.  MIMNMnH. 

Dear  Yank: 

I've  always  considered  it  a  great  privi- 
lege to  wear  the  uniform  of  Uncle  Sam  - 
It  wasn't  tiecause  I  thought  it  was  a  tai- 
lored masterpiece  but  because  it  used  to 
fitand  for  an  American  soldier.  I- no  longer 
have  that  pride  which  for  so  l6ng  made 
all  foreigners  envious. 

rm  a  patient  in  •  nar  area  hot^td 
and  the  other  day  I  saw  an  American  ex- 
prisoner  of  war,  liberated  a  few  days  be- 
fore, who  was  on  a  stretcher  carried  by 
four  German  prisoners.  The  Germans 
were  wearing  the  very  •  uniform  that 
should  be  our  pride.  The  American 
looked  up  and  seeing  the  Ameni  an  uni- 
form, said  'Thank  you,"  not  knowing  he 
was  thanking  the  fellow  countrymen  of 
men  who  beat  and  starved  him  during 
his  imprisonment. 

Not  onlv  does  it  hurt  ttie  pride  of  the 
fellows  who  fought  for  that  unijtonn  but 
it  echoes  in  the  hearts  of  all  those  who 
died  to  make  our  uniform  what  it  is  to- 
day Not  only  is  this  feeling  common 
among  combat  troops  who  have  fought, 
them  but  every  soldier  who  took  the  oath 
to  flght  against  all  enemies  and  defend 
his  country  has  the  same  feeling. 
Franto  — Pfc.  K.  D.  HOUCHENS 

Compufseiy  Twining 

Dear  Yakk; 

To  add  to  the  age-old  discussion  of  post- 
war military  service  for  youth  these  few 
points,  I  think,  should  be  taken  Into  con- 
.sideration. 

A  year  of  Army  life  would  broaden  the 
mind  of  an  individual  to  the  point  where 
a  more  complete  outlook  toward  life 
could  be  obtained. 

It  has  in  my  case,  I'm  sure.  I'm  now 
with  the  — th  Bomb  Group  in  India.  The 
splendid  ofScers  and  men  of  the  — *t 
Squadron  have  made  this  the  cream  of 
my  Army  life,  the  whole  13  months  spent 
in  the  Army  considered.  Maybe  six 
months  of  this  duty  could  l»e  offered  to 
our  youth  of  America  now  in  school.  Il 
would  put  to  practical  usage  our  early 
studies  of  geography.  A  half  year  over- 
.seas  would  help  us  understand  world 
problems  more  readily.  Also  it  would 
strengthen  the  most  important  object  of 
all  of  us,  the  home! 

...  A  student  who  wishes  to  continue 
his  formal  education  as  well  as  tte  hi- 
borer  will  benefit  alike  in  the  respect  that 
the  Army  will  finance  a  trip  over  our 
country  and  other  countries  that  he 
might  not  otherwise  have  been  able  to 
afford.  If  the  student  wishes  to  be  am- 
bitious, he  may  enroll  in  the  USAfl,  the 
oraanization  we  all  know  looks  after  the 
soldier's  education. 

Then  again,  the  standing  armies'  and 
-  our  forttaed  bases  would  dfiwmirage  any 
nation  planning  aggression. 


This  is  a  pf  oblem  that  shcwM  Iw'ltir 
tied  while  the  war  is  still  'on  by  tta  Rnhl 
ftghting  it  and  by  the  students  wh»*ij|||r 
be  affected.  They  are  the  future.  li^pmH' 
decide  for  themselves. 
Iruiia 


Dear  Yank: 

Discussions  of  post  war  military  train- 
ing usually  overlook  the  most  important 
question;  that  is.  what  sort  of  training  it 
will  be.  Training  of  the  type  we  have 
experienced  will  have  two  outstanding 
faults:  first,  it  will  interrupt  normal  aca- 
demic training  and,  second,  it  will  be  of 
doubtful  value. 

Wlitary  training  as  we  have  experi- 
enced it  iuis  been  a  distorting  influence. 
We  have  learned  how  to  avoid  wwk,  to 
distrust  our  fellow  men  and  to  dislike  the 
Army  for  its  blunders.  We  have  learned 
that  taking  the  initiative  gets  you  into 
trouble.  Such  training  is  of  negative 
value  in  the  training  of  soldiers  and  is 
dangerous  to  the  conduct  of  a  free  soci- 
ety; you  don't  make  soldiers  or  citizens 
by  cutting  grass  with  razor  blades  and 
rrarbr^ig^tbe  battolion  for  soot  in  the 

What  we  need  is  an  intelligently 
planned  and  capably  led  training  pro- 
gram without  Army  tradition.  A  program 
in  which  new  ideas  will  have  a  chance 
and  ignorance  will  not  be  at  a  premium. 
Intfia 


Sumniet  Uniforms 

Dear  Yank: 

If  we  are  the  best  equipped  and  best 
dressed  Army  in  the  world,  why  can't 
ttie  War  Department  give  us  a  decent 
dress  uniform  for  summer?  I  gladly  wear 
the  khakis  to  work  becauae.any  oJd  civ^ 
man  bricklayer  would  use  mam  to  dean 
out  a  sewer.  But.  when  I  and  seven  mil- 
lion other  GIs  have  to  wear  them  to 
church— well.  I  can't  Jielp  but  tiiink  that 


the  EM  uniform  must  be  the  result  of  a 
board  of  brass— sharply  clad  in  pinks 
and  tropical  worsted. 

If  the  wool  shortage  Is  the  reason, 
maybe  the  QMC  can  reclaim  some  of  the 
millions  of  itchy  OD  .shirts  which  they 
were  so  anxious  to  msue.  Or  if  the  cost 
would  forbid,  maybe  the  rules  could  be 
changed  so  that  EM  buying  their  own 
tropical  woolens  could  Wear  them  with- 
out going  around  the  bloiilc  to  dodge  an 
UP.  Or  better  sUU,  maybe  they  could 
allow  us  to  resurrect  one  of  our  civilian 
blue  suits  for  special  otT-duty  occasions. 
Mwnpkjf,  r—n.  -He.  JOHN  P.  HOKR 

Pre  Afasfca 

Dear  Yank: 

In  answer  to  Pvt.  Hackenbruck's  letter 
on  Golden  Alaska,  Pvt.  H.  may  be  from 
Alaska  but  I'm  afraid  he  has  seen  very 
little  of  it.  He  is  certainly  no  authority 
on  it. 

As  for  his  statement  on  farming,  has 
he  heard  of  the  Matanuska  Valley,  the 
Homer  farming  district,  or  the  Tanana 
•  Valley  on  the  Yukon?  This  does  not  in- 
clude the  families  all  the  way  from 
Ketchikan  to  Nome  who  raise  their  own 
gardens  every  year.  The  season  lasts 
from  four  to  seven  months  not  two  and 
a  half  as  Pvt.  H.  states. 

Who  is  he  trying  to  kid  about  the  ter- 
rible Alaskan  winters?  They  have  them 
in  the  Arctic,  but  Aladca  is  not  lust  the 
Arctic.  How  about  the  Winters  In  some 
of  the  Statet?-- 

He  Btatei  that  mining  Is  stabilized. 
Maybe  gold  mining  is,  but  the  other 
minerals  In  Alaska  have  been  hardly 


touched.  There  ia  plenty  of  mIniQg  i 
to  be  developed. 

Salmon  fishing  has  been  fairlr  wdl 
stobilized.  yet  what  about  other  fish  and 
also  clams  and  crabs?  Has  Pvt.  H,  ever 
read  about  the  possibilities  of  the  Uni 
crab?  The  Japanese  were  canning  betece 
the  war  around  90  percent  of  the 
crabs  used  by  the  U.  S. 

As  for  the  lumt>A  tHisiness  being  nil 
wait  until  Southeastern  Alaska  gets 
started. 

,  Transportation  Is  not  good,  but  it  U 
taikiwoviiig  and  ahaU  kec»  Imnmvlng  as 
the  population  increases  and  demands 
call  for  it  to  improve. 

Prices  are  high  but  has  Pvt.  H.  ever 
visited  the  Pacific  Northwest?  Also.  I 
believe  wages  compensate  for  the  cost 
of  living. 

As  for  a  stake  when  you  go  to  Alaska, 
it's  all  right  but  not  necessary.  Thou- 
sands of  people  and  families  have  gone 
to  Alaska  wlttt  no  stake  and  have  sur- 
vived— many  to  become  quite  well-to-do. 

I  believe  if  hte  will  check  his  seven 
facts,  Pvt  Hackenbruck  will  Ihid  all  of 
them  from  2S  percent  to  100  percent  off 
the  beam.  Maybe  he  should  see  his  ni^ 
AlaAa  and  tlum  do  bla  talUag. 
Coap  Homo,  TBiia*        -Ph.  N.  I.  CONMO 

Dear  Yank: 

I  read  with  great  interest  the  letter  by 
G.  P.  Hackenbruck  on  the  folly  of  going 
to  Alaska  to  live.  I  think  I  can  appreciate 
it  t>etter  than  most  since  Hack  and  I 
were  in  the  same  company  for  several 
months  in  Alaska.  So  tor  several  months 
he  tried  to  sell  me  on  the  merits  of 
Alaska,  and  the  rosy  future  I  would  liave 
if  I  went  into  partnership  with  him. 

However  every  time  an  article  is  pub- 
lished extolling  the  wonders  of  Aladca. 
Hack  gets  scared.  Frankly  he  don't  give 
a  damn  how  many  GIs  would  be  disap- 
pdinted — the  thing  that  worries  him  is 
that  Alaska  is  going  to  be  cluttered  up 
and  "spoiled"  by  thousands  of  people  an- 
swering the  call  of  the  wild.  1  would  ap- 
preciate Yank  publishing  my  address  so 
that  Hack  may  write  me  and  give  me 
hell  for  exposing  him. 
Camp  Parry.  Ofcia  — M/Ssl.  DON  A.  WIMCK 

Sports  in  MfulHftiig 

Dear  Yank: 
Cheers  to  Stanlajr  Trmik  tor  his  hooast 

approach  on  the  necessity  of  sports  fn 

wartime. 

A  burr  in  the  rear.s  of  Ted  Husing. 
Liarry  MacPhail.  et  ai  for  alleging  that 
professional  sports  are  so  great  a  morale 
factor  for  servicemen  and  that  the  pres- 
ent battifea  were  won  on  the  gridirons  of 
American  colleges.  It  is  true  that  soldiers 
discuss  sports  and  paid  players:  gener- 
ally the  talk  centers  around  the  suppos- 
edly physical  deferments  of  athletes. 

Leave  us  look  at  the.  picture:  From 
what  sources  do  Messrs.  Husing  and  Msc- 
Phail  derive  their  Incomes  Organised 
Sports? 

trHain  — Two  CoHoa*  Ml* 

Salvage  and  Waste 

Dear  Yank: 

All  you  hear  around  here  is  "don't 
waste  equipment,"  "don't  steal  equip- 
ment because  someone  needs  it,"  "WBt 
give  clothes  to  the  people."  "dont  do 
this  and  don't  do  that." 

Yet  when  an  inspection  comes  around 
and  there  are  a  tew  surplus  Item:;  around, 
there's  no  saving.  The  stuff  is  either 
thrown  in  the  trash,  buried  in  the  sand 
or  thrown  in  a  creek. 

The  same  way  at  POE.  When  we  got 
rid  of  all  imnecessary  items,  there  were 
hundreds  of  pairs  of  civilian  shoes,  thou- 
sands of  ties  and  all  sorts  of  clothing 
and  equipment  dumped  into  trash  cans. 

Why  can't  some  kind  of  salvage  dump 
be  set  up.  especially  at  POEs,  and  all 
that  excess  stuff  be  shipped  to  the  needy 
people  in  the  countries  devastated  by 
war? 

Pkilippinoi  -Pfc  SAM  CHISUN 

Poets  Cornered 

Dear  Yank: 

I  cannot  understand  why  the  poetry 
appearing  in  Yank,  and  written  by  ser- 
vicemen, is  of  such  uniformly  poor  qu*'' 
ity.  It  isn't  difficult  to  write  %  erse  which, 
even  though  not  great  or  profound,  is 
at  least  readable.  Perhaps  the  fault  Ue 
in  the  selection  of  contributions,  thougo 
I  rather  doubt  that.  Perhaps  a  few  hints 
would  aid  our  neophyte  Miltons: 

1)  Avoid  complicated  rhyme  schemes. 

2)  Avoid  forced  rhjTnes  and  meters. 

3)  Avoid  the  "sing-song''  effect  of  an 
overly  symmetrical  meter  pattern. 

4)  Attempt  to  utilize  ideas  as  w>«3^,; 
feet  you,  and  not  in  relation  to  tlie  way 
Shakespeare  might  have  done  it.  

5)  Bemember,  above  all,_that  i»etry 
.duai  be  read— unless  it  Hovn 
across  the  page  all  effort  is  wasted,  w 


JWlV£RSlT¥Oi=  MICHIGAN 


tundity  i.i  secondary,  and  must  come 
only  a/ter  food  reading  is  achieved.  Sini> 
pUcity  is  desirable — the  use  of  complex 
verse  should  be  attempted  after  no  sim- 
ple expression  can  be  found. 
For  example: 
"Arise,  ye  tuns  oi  other  worlds, 
Arite.  funwr.  djwtwlr 
Of  ev«r  MmNc  sMMSflM  agrth 


''•s-Sad  Sack."*  fniitrated  in  hU  own 
attempts  to  become  an  oUteer,  is  goinf 
to  tie  a  broom  to  my  taU.-  Ifll  take 
more  of  a  man  .tliaa  you  or  tboee  like 
yon  (»  <te  that,  m  MeAf. 

Mane  AAf.  emlt.  ^t.  I.  UNC 


Or: 


So  long  as ' 


It  Utere.' 


'*/  am  that  which  tiegan — 
Out  of  me  God  and  Man — 
Out  of  me  the  agei  roll]" 
Good  verML  exeeUent  or  eventual  I  v 
powerful  aiMi  profomid  vera*- aiiouid 
appear  in  Y«itK  to  mateta  Aid  contrast 
witli  iU  I 


Camp  PhMkm,  Im. 

Landing  Cnidits 

Dear  Yank: 

In  your  recent  "'Chronology  "  of  the  Ja^l 
War.  the  listing  for  November  20.  1943 
was  -Marines  invade  Tarawa  and  Makit)' 
uid  the  listing  of  June  IS,  1944  wa.s  "Ma- 
rine! land  on  6aipan  in  Marianas." 

it  has  been  called  to  our  attention  that 
tneae  two  items  are  not  entirely  correct. 
UlOM  the  lasth  Infantry  RCT  of  the  27th 
Inbntry  Division  took  Hakin,  and  the 
27th  Division  also  participated  in  the 
landing  on  Saipan 

2d  Lieutenant  Burrill 
VSMC,  in  the  Marine  Public  Relations 
Office,  verified  that  no  Marine  units  were 
"J*™!'??'.''*  invasion,  and  that 

the  Z7th  Infantry  Division  made  the  joint 
landing  with  the  Marines  g 


Disthargm  Km 

Dear  Yank: 


Yakk  hat  never,  to  iny  knowla^ 


pan. 


s  going  onto  Sai- 


Waihhtgtoa,  O.  C.     -U.  CoL  PAW  t  JOMES 

DrMnff  Btterd 

Dear  VAtoc 

The  members  of  our  comnanv  think 
that  in  all  probability  thTteOng  i^- 

in  New  Caledonia  we  drove  a  total  at 
1.703.073  miles  and  hauled  IflSJM  toads 
of  troops  and  cargo.  Al  the  present  time 
we  still  have  over  80  percent  of  our 
original  vehicles  and  only  20  percent  of 
these  were  new  when  we  received  them 
Our  vehicle  strength  is  50. 

tt  this  is  not  a  record,  we  would  like 
to  hear  from  anyone  who  can  top  It. 
Until  then,  we  will  not  be  resting  on  our 
Mjirels,  but  piling  up  more  miles  and 
hauling  more  troops  and  cargo. 
Meriei.as  -Cpl.  JAMES  A.  OHHMO 

Officer  Unafraid 

Dear  Yank: 

In  reply  to  Pvt.  Charles  Kolber's  let- 
(er,  "Jobs  for  Officers"  [advising  oBlcer 
veterans  not  to  mention  their  commis- 
■iion  when  asking  for  a  job. — Ed. I.  it 
seem.s  to  nn-  that  his  bitch  is  dut  to 
his  own  land  other  former '  business- 
men's! inability  to  get  into  CCS.  He 
doesn't  mind  being  "on  top"  and  di-sh- 
mg  it  out;  he  jusfcan  t  "take  it.  " 

Believe  it  or  not.  Pvt.  Kolber.  I  hap- 
pened to  be  an  offlce  boy  before  I  went 
irito  cadets,  and  I'm  not  ashamed  of  it. 
When  this  war  is  over  and  I'm  out  look- 
ing for  ;i  job,  1  won't  be  afraid  to  admit 
having  t>een  commissioned  during  the 
war.  Nor  will  I  be  afraid  that  some 


•  "Jfjy  l«ae  inw«e  rfSj  dit- 

« tMtjis^  I'l^ut  c;  JtfiTo; 
~m\u'i.Ji'g:;!''"-'''""«™- 

^f'  -nUNRM.IIfM 

Limp  and  Uny 

Dear  Yamk: 

I  have  often  read  your  Btail  Call  erinM 
and  wondered  why'some  ule  fluo^ 
wrote,  but  something  happen^  'iSry 
hat  made  me  feel  that  I  had  sometf^M 

.nHrfL  °       h'""  ""^I'cal  ofRcers  and 

fliir*i.  '  goltlt>ricker"  when  he 
taUs  out  on  sick  call  legitimately'  Ou? 
S2J2L"*S?f  "A**  "»ke  up  all  in- 

sist fil^Hi.r*  w'^henlcs  that  we?e 
*S,        io-called  "goldbrickine" 
as  a  punitive  measure  to  di5;oSrage  aM 
ing  out  for  sick  call. 
It  teenu  to  me  that  while  a  few  men 


-0«MMWMriMUl* 

•All.  liaMrf  by  iMM  Mhen. 

Point  Sysfem 

Dear  Yank: 

l^ve  Just  rctunMd  from  seeing 
the  Armed  Forc^fSktw*  Two  OowS 
and  One  to  Go"  tojm  0M  haw  the  point 
ys**"*  ,  works.  We  are  indignanl  and 
disillusioned. 

The  point  system  allocates  no  credit 
for  combat  time.  It  gives  credit  for  bat- 
tle stars.  For  six  months  of  some  of  the 
bloodiest  flghling  of  the  war  we  have 
received  one  battle  star.  Our  division 
left  the  States  last  September  and  has 
held  the  record  for  the  longest  continu- 
ous time  on  the  line  of  any  division  in 
the  ETC.  Of  our  original  company  of  190 
men  there  aren't  more  than  30  with  us 
now,  and  few  of  those  have  not  been  to 
the  hospital  at  least  once.  The  company 


has  been  reorganised  three  times.  For  qtMcl  that  the  will  And  out  why  and  they 

that  we  get  one  battle  star.  idU  do  it.  We  have  been  nmjceted  to 

Compare  that  generous  offering  with  this  ktaid  of  thing  before,  hut  fed  Hut 

the  case  of  one  of  our  reinforcements  this  topt  'cm  ail.  We  are  wondering  who 

from  an  ordnance  outfit  in  France.  Be  ween  the  eegtoi  and  the  puts  in  that 

was  with  us  m  the  attack  for  two  days  family.  How's  about  it.  feUom.  what  do 

and  was  sent  back  to  a  hospiul  becauie  you  fliHifc*"  . 

of  an  aching  side.  He  was  in  the  vicinity  ^  .    ^     „      ^  ^      Wbbi  MHmM) 
<  at  least  20  miles)  of  the  battle  lines  in  ""-^ 
France  and  sD^nt  twn  Aaw  in  ^^m^u.^ 


MUST  Ota.  ftar«WMft. 

Swimming  Segwflulfal 

Dear  Yank: 

India's  hot  and  GIs  here  built  4  swim- 
ming  pool.  It  was  used  by  outflts  f rS^ 

Of  ditXi'Tring"  ha't"  ?r""i 
don.^  W.  There   i^ls ''nteT ^any' 

^  hours  when  thToaS  iJ!tt&*^ 
by  Negroes.  senaritSw '  ueed 


tay  he  1,  'a  the  Pool  iw-S  S^ 

a^a  fS,"}*  that  the  Negro 

this  than  I  .L"'4J?A  "•<>■•?  PO  daboJ; 


this  than  I  am.  Thei 'ri!»^.  ^'^o"' 
anybody  getting  lfflr'2£i./!'r«"»ber 
ot  their  skin  wtSnuStf  faw**  «»»«»r 
draf  t,  or  whwTSSa*^"""  *«>  the 
handed  out.  Wat  faefatg 

Umifd  Service 


■  ai  leasi  zu  miies)  or  the  battle  lines  in 
France  and  spent  two  days  in  combat. 
For  that  he  is  entitled  to  wear  four  bat- 
tle stars  The  ordnance  gets  20  poinU 
'"rcombat.  The  infantry  gets  Ave 

the  consci- 

SS?^"3f"  &  '"'""try  who.  while 
wereinthlfi'^*'"'*'"*  that  thev 
refuti?  S'.!2^'*l.»"tflt  in  the  Army, 
rtr??^**'  «**  married  and  have  chil- 

body,  but  is  MSL&SisS~ 
f«eedly  set  aside  whmSRbSS.*"^ 
w«ilrS^^** 

D«ar  Yank: 

listed  man ''n^eeds'^r  mi""  ^''J'  «  «- 
dU.tu.rgeandrn^^^ee'?^^ 

neXSi-  Ca^t,?""^  in  our  flew  ' 
'^^'&^BB^^'^-     J'^'^^^Hefe-ara^f  ^een 

have  been  men  th^i"^J^       diachlrgld  't«d  «»-vice*  onW  tod"'*"?}'^      •  "m- 

— is  that  fair  ^fL""iS.'?'*'"  "»  PoinU  manently  dianittli««?V           "re  -  per. 

some  of  us  get^'^«,^j  What  ^ut  to  the^r^^Jf>' °V".eas  dSty  ' 

of  the  good  Job?^"  SSU*  eft*"«  »ome  "-especUve  dlsabilTuM  VJ.""""*  °'  their 

that  thinrrSt^'SliS'W^  th^°.L"'«""  'W^™te^?y'in»? 

of  diflferent  ranks.  The  nuirxber  of 

points  ail  officer  holds  is  not  the  onlv  .  «»« .  CloiWt,.  fw  Uk»nM»i  »„ 

or^^.'.  determine  whe?he^  Un«erviceab?l  A?^y  d^uSfg  it^ 

^i^^}      "'V^  released.  An  officer  ^""f  reconditioned  for  distribuu" 

"  PoinU  and  ^°  needy  civilians  in  libera?^  E.U' 

If  he  is  nMded  m  the  prosecutiori  of 
the  war  he  will  not  be  released. 
Mihtary  neceaeity  ia  the  coveming 


Dear  Yank: 

Us  boys  in  the  ETO  have  a  gripe  to 
make.  It  seems  that  in  your  Victory  Edi- 
tion our  friend.  Sad  Sack,  is  getting  a 
raw  deal.  He  has  fought  through  Africa. 
Sicily  and  the  ETTO  and  is  now  about  to 
t>e  transferred  to  the  PaciAc.  Gen  Eiaen- 


Sicily  and  the  ETTO  and  is  now  about  to 
t>e  transferred  to  the  PaciAc.  Gen  Eisen- 
hower recently  made  a  - statement  that 
men  who  fouvit  in  Africa  and  the  ETO' 
would  not  be  aUM>«d  to  the  PadAe.  If 
this  is  the  ease  then  why  ia  Sad  S»A  l>e- 
ing  shipped  to  the  Paeillc? 

Gmrmany 


  JUUAN  N.  OMItWI  Gb  returning  from  overseas  on  nos- 

_                ,                     J     J  Dltal  ships  will  get  whole  milk,  m- 

■  If  the  Sack  were  married  and  had  sj*"               powdered  kind.  no»- 

three  children  (and  who  d   marry  ^    .    Army  has  discovered  a  new 

him?),  he'd  have  36  points.  His  serv-  j^od  of  quick-freezing  cow  jiiice. 

ice  record  has  been  missing  ever  j^Yj^yii  30,000  pints  of  frozen  whole 

u,as  caotured  by  the  Blue  ADout      ,       y      shipt>ed  monthly 


Arvo*.  I 

now  I 

•n^uuiiionea  tor  distrihiitir>r>  * 

^^"iZL'*.^*;*'       0"iy  cloth-  ■ 

Ing    absolutely    unfit    for  further 
Army  use  will  be  distributed.  , 

MoH»itol  n*ett.  The  U.  S  hospital- 
ship  fleet,  which  has  returned  near- 
ly 60.000  sick  and  wounded  GIs  to 
the  U.  S..  will  be  ifK:reased  50  per- 
cent in  capacity  by  mid-summer, 
according  to  an  OWl  report.  The 
Army  expects  to "  bring  home  all 
ETO  sick  and  wounded  able  to 
travel  within  three  months.  After 
that,  most  of  the  20-ship  Atlantic 
fleet  will  be  diverted  to  the  Pacific. 

•  fMMl  for  Hospital  Ships.  Wounded 
GIs  returning  from  overseas  on  hos- 
pital ships  will  get  whole  milk,  in- 


ice  record  has  been  missing 
since  he  was  captured  by  the  Biu 
Army  in  the  Louisiana  maneuvers. 


Officer  VafraM  -.-^^  and^Seattle    Sffi?e° the  froiW" 

^^^r^l^iuthisArmy^-V  miik^'^'ot^y^t^^^^^^^ 
Mnp  '^H^'WrSfct°U  Jf^-rpry       the  average 


S  I'h-arS  -T'-f  «S 

W  C?rTe°a"n';Vn 
Kln^S^-ttle,  AccordUjg  to  the 
l"^g-"t^Sl^'na%S^lTk^^^^^^  real 


nonmiliUry  "•^JT ^ter^  Tb» 
Dolicy  be  maintalnwi  the  of- 

Srflsted  men  .»houtd  inst«  ^P^j^g  their 

Vt»  noncomml~ioi^^^n,ted  by  »«" 
fMM»  M  e«w«-H 

1  IfflBl  »  • 


?0  pounds.  IS  t"^^  oo*« 
throws  out  ^  °„icals.  «hJ^Sl  la^" 
flammat''^  ..^,.«et   i,Ke  "^i"  bomb 

r^^  r  volcano.  ,-^i;;gr%"»^i£ 

uSeS    one   of^^the     ^  ^,^^^w 


by 
for 


the 
ciatioa 


^^^^ 


and 
cl»n» 


"VetTf 


•IHieav-   . 

'  '^ci  i  nal  fro  m 


25  y?. 


aga 


inst 
the 


the 


Prank  Groham'M  tomphie  hittory 
of  the  Bums  from  t893  fo  ttramh 
Rickey  mixes  plenty  of  anecdotes 
with  its  collection  of  important 
fOtfSf  itffW9S  wmS  'h'^^CS* 

By  Sgt.  JOt  MkCMmt 
YANK  Staff  Writer 

ArxEH  Frank  Graham  wrote  "The  New  York 
Yankees"  and  "McGraw  of  the  Giants," 
'  two  of  th«  best  buoball  books  ever  pub- 
lished in  this  country,  his  friends  naturally  de- 
manded a  similar  job  of  research  on  the  growth 
and  development  of  the  national  pastime  in  the 
Borough  of  Brooklyn.  His  command  performance, 
"The  Brooklyn  Dodgers:  An  Informal  History" 
(G.  P.  F>utnam's  Sons;  $2.75)  is  now  disappearing 
from  the  book  stores  under  people's  arms. 

Ymir  reporter  recommends  this  Dodger  book 
because  your  reporter  happens  to  be  a  sucker  for 
the  kind  of  baseball  history  Graham  writes  with 
plenty  of  dialogue  and  plenty  of  small  detail 
about  who  was  on  second  and  who  was  on  third 
during  this  or  that  importaat  tentag.  But  Gra- 
ham's treatise  on  the  Bums  hasnt  as  much  ex- 
citement or  drama  as  his  reports  on  the  Yankees 
and  John  McGraw. 

•nie  Dodgers  through  tHe  years  have  perhaps 
played  more  colorfu)  and  amusing  baseball  than 
the  Yankees  and  the  McGraw  Giante  but  they 
have  never  produced  reaUy  great  teams  like  those 
at  the  Stadium  and  the  Polo  Grounds.  A  carefully 
exact  and  objective  reporter  like  Graham  can't 
very  well  be  expected  to  write  a  great  book  un- 
less he  IS  writing  about  a  great  team.  The  peculiar 
qualities  of  the  Dodgers  would  be  better  handled 
by  somebody  more  concerned  with  comic  effects 
rather  than  with  scores,  batting  averages  and 
league  standings.  It  is  a  pity  that  Ring  Lardner  - 
isn  t  here  to  take  on  the  job. 

Nevertheless,  this  informal  history  of  the 
Dodgers— and  how  could  a  history  of  the  Dodgers 
be  anything  but  informal?— has  a  lot  of  comedy 
in  It  It  begins  with  the  beginning  of  professional 
baseball  in  Brooklyn  in  1883  and  continues  through 
that  strange  period  in  the  1890s  when  the  Dodgers 
played  their  games  in  East  Ntw  York,  and  the 
eras  of  Ned  Hanlon,  Willie  Keder,  Hughie  Jen- 
nings and  Nap  Rucker  when  the  dub  wat  known 
u  the  SiverlMi  mt  bofif  its  lut  at  Wash 
Park. 


;  WathiagtoD 

Thoae  were  the  days.  The  people  who  lived  in 
Ginney  Plats  across  the  street  from  the  park 
rented  seats  on  their  fire  escapes  at  a  dime  a  head. 
Growlers  of  beer  from  the  nearby  saloons  were 
hauled  up  to  the  fire  escapes  on  ropes.  Terry  Mc- 
Govern,  the  fighter,  worked  out  with  the  team 
every  morning  and  Giant  fans  were  afraid  to 
follow  their  heroes  from  the  Bronx  to  Brooklyn. 

Then  Graham  takes  you  on  through  the  admin- 
istrations at  Ebbets  Field  of  Charley  Ebbets,  Ed 
and  Steve  McKeever  and  Larry  MacPhail,  ending 
the  book  with  the  coming  of  Branch  Rickey. 

THC  pages  devoted  to  the  MacPhail  years  contain 
stuff  th<t*S  pretty  fresh  in  our  memory— the 
constant  firing  and  rehiring  of  Leo  Durocher; 
Billy  Herman's  remark  about  Brooklyn  baseball 
enthusiasm,  "Every  day  it's  like  a  World  Senes 
game  around  here";  Mickey  Owen's  fafnous  m^^ 
of  Tommy  Henrich  s  thW "^^l*"^^* 
Series;  the  denunciation  ol  >f 
"You  are  an  applehead!  .j,. «Pf"*{y55aU  wms 
applehead  and  a  counterfeit!  ;  the  bMnSaii  wot 
on942  and  Durocher's  statement 

beat  him  by  two  «--.f,Vwe?X?tL?UK 
"We  won  104  games  d  dnt  we^  rin 
they  want  me  to  do?  W.n  them  "U^ 

And  of  course  Dan  P^^^jhe  Dodgers, 
poem.  "Leave  Us  Go  BortWrw^  ^^^^^^ 
Rodgers."  which  became  Broo«yo 
wng: 


I 


anUers'  movie  roles 

SO  many  of  Evely"  ^"^^  been 
have  been  in  ^'''ll'fj'^^^^^^^ 
dubbed '  The  Horror  Q    en-  ,^dyh^^^ 


as  you  can  9^^^^  5  ,,et  6  .nch« 


co^d^e^rr**  ^ 
But  tchen  the  trees  blossomed  aaain 
MtuJ^urgatroyd  Darcy,  the  b«Uc  of  Cornar. 

To  noigtn  UNMttd  sinir  ikia  refrain: 

Leave  «s  oo  root  /or  the  Dodgers,  Rodoer*, 

Thev  re  VMying  ball  under  the  liahts. 

Leave  tu  cut  out  all  the  juke  jemts,  Rodffers, 

Where  itfCM  Iwen  toostin'  our  niffhts. 

Dancin'  the  shoff  or  the  rumba  is  iHIlv 

When  toe  can  be  rooting  lor  Adolf  Cimilli. 

So  leove  us  go  root  for  the  Dodger*,  Rodcwrs, 

Them  Dodgers  i*  my  gallant  knights. 

But  the  book  also  gives  an  equal  share  of  atten- 
tion to  the  Wilbert  Robinson  Dodgers,  the  Casey 
Stengel  Dodgers  and  the  Burleigh  Grimes'  Dodg- 
ers who,  although  they  were  never  as  natimiaUy 
famous  as  the  Leo  Durocher  Dodgers,  were  often 
more  entertaining.  . 

These  Bums  of  the  1920s  and  1930s  included 
such  characters  as  Jacques  Fournier,  theveteran 
first  baseman,  who  with  Dazzy  Vance,  Jess  Petty 
«!a  gSs  during  the  Robinson  regime  gave  the 
t?«hiL  flret  real  flavor  of  daffiness.  One  day  a 

jiJnrand^ne'^uspitc'.e^ 

HoSy^o?  tSta^Jwho^a.  that 
Sent  was  approachmg  the  1^**. 
"On  the  inside,"  said  Fou  men       ^  Hornsby 

ing  to  him  on  the  o  Herman. 


tagged  out  was  much  too  good  for  Herman  " 

ouSeT-a-s  '^t:^T^z-.::^:rSh  - 

"^«V~V«mg  the  Dodg"^s  foT'the^N^w^ Yo7k 

^th?rrbrtr«y"baT^'^^ 

Graham  tells  how  the  Babe  cornered  Meany 
one  day  and  made  a  bet  that  if  a  fty  ever  struck 
him  on  the  head  he  would  walk  off  the  field  and 
never  come  back. 

"How  about  getting  hit  on  the  shoulder.  Babe*" 
Meany  asked. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Herman  seriously.  "On  the  shoul- 
der don't  count." 

Another  time  Herman  had  a  long  conversation 
with  Joe  Gordon  of  the  New  York  American,  also 
one  of  his  outstanding  critics  The  Babe  pleaded 
with  Gordon  to  stop  treating  him  like  a  clown  on 
the  sports  pages.  Gordon,  finally  impressed  by 
Herman's  appeal,  agreed  that  his  chances  of 
maUng  a  living  would  be  hurt  if  he  became  too 
renowned  as  a  Joke  ball  player  and  promised  to 
let  him  alone  in  the  future. 

••Thanks.  Joe."  said  Herman.  He  reached  in  his 
tjocket  pulled  out  a  charred  cigar  butt  which  ht- 
ftuck  in'^to  his  mouth  and  fumbled  for  matches. 


•Here's  a  match/'  ^ajdOordon^ 
Before  he  '-ba*         began  to 

deeply  a  few  tim«»  «»  «* 


glow  and  smoke  .  ,. 

•TJever  mind,   he  said.   «  j  ^a^d 

Gordon  flew  into  a  ."ge.  Nobody  wlu. 

"1°^^"'*  rwJk%Taa«-  aJound  in  his  pocket  can 

Times  ^^^'rtv^caVDodger  storie^  K  ^^e 
of  the  mo3t  typica  ^.^j,  the  Gian  ^^^  ^.^^^ 
Van  Lingle  Mungo.  decided  to  lo     ^  go. 


plan 


Then 


there 


y  ... 


incident 

^  Origii 


than 


who  hit  t«  "I'^ded  up  on  Y";;  Dodgers. 


said. 


(JMlV£RSlT¥Oi=  MlCHiGAN 


The  government  has  checked  and 
double-checked  fhese  cMxens  of  Jap 
descent ,  but  some  West  Cedsf  neigh- 
bors don't  want  them  to  come  home. 

By  Pvt.  JAMB  P.  O^BU 
YANK  Staff  Wrifw 

IDS  ANCasLKS,  Caut. — Out  in  California's  bronze, 
sage-covered  Owens  Valley,  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred  miles  northeast  of  Los  Angeles,  lies  a 
cluster  of  tar-papered  barraclcs  so  much  resem- 
bling an  Army  base  from  a  distance  that  the 
approaching  visitor  half  expects  to  a  see  a  batch 
of  dust-caked  rookies  shuffling  around  in  a  vague 
approximation  of  close-order  drill. 

This  is  no  military  base;  it  is  the  Manzanar 
War  Relocation  Center,  one  of  10  such  installa- 
iiorn  set  up  in  1942  following  an  emergency  order 
issued  by  the  Army,  compelling  all  persons  of 
Japanese  ancestry  living  within  200  miles  of  the 
Pacific  Coast  to  move  out  of  Ihe  area  and,  by 
later  presidential  ruling,  into  segregation  centers. 
The  order  was  considered  inq^ntive  at  th^^ 
,  time  because  Japan,  right  after  Pearl  Harbor, 
held  the  upper  hand  in  the  Pacific,  and  the  Army, 
iacing  a  threat  of  invasion,  felt  obliged  to  take 
any  and  all  steps  to  guard  the  nation's  safety  in 
time  of  peril.  Last  January,  however,  the  ^xav 
decided  that  the  Japs  had  been  sufBcientty 
whipped  to  make  the  segregation  of  persons  with 
JapaoBW!  blood  in  their  veins  no  longer  neces- 

aged  to  ^T''%°^^,,Sirig  55m  v^ere  sitting 
rpre"S°t-Z^^^^^^   they  were-be- 


relocation  centers  in  preference  lo  regaining 
their  liberty  are  afraid  of  the  treatment  they'll 
get  at  the  hands  of  their  former  neighbors  if 
they  leave  the  protection  of  their  camps.  It  is  a 
situation  that  has  been  creating  a  headache  for 
officials  in  Washington  and  on  the  West  Coast 
for  the  past  several  months. 

Takeyoshi  Arikawa,  a  former  produce  dealer 
of  Lob  Angeles,  to  oiie  of  the  Japanese-Amnieaiis 
at  Manzanar  who  has  felt  it  best  to  stay  put  Re- 
cently, seated  with  some  members  of  his  family 
in  one  of  the  bare  little  apartments  into  which 
the  Manzfmar  barracks  have  been  partitioned,  he 
explained  his  point  of  view.  "I  woilld  like  to  take 
my  people  back  home,"  he  said,  "but  there  «te 
too  many  people  in  Los  Angeles  who  would  re- 
sent our  return.  These  are  troubled  times  for 
America.  Why  should  I  cause  this  country  any 
more  trouble?" 

Arikawa's  dilemma  would  seem  awkward 
enough  if  he  spoke  only  as  a  Japanese-bom 
American,  loyal  to  the  country  of  his  ad(vtion 
but  inevitably  suspect  until  proved  innocent  be- 
cause we  are  now  at  war  with  his  native  land. 
However,  what  complicates  a  rational  approach 
to  Arikawa's  case,  which  is  similar  to  hundreds 
Of  other  «afle^  i*  Vm  fact  that  he  has  ttiree  aons 


The 


in  the  Army,  all  volunteers.  Rather,  it  should  be 
said  he  had  three  sons  in  the  Army:  one,  Frank 
Arikawa,  was  lulled  in  action  in  Italy  on  July  6, 
1944.  The  other  two  were  fighting  right  up  to 
VE-Day  with  the  442d  Regimental  Combat 
Team,  an  outfit  that  made  a  distinguished  name 
for  itself  in  Italy,  France  and  Germany  and  was 
rewarded  by  a  Presidential  citation. 

Old  Takeyoshi  Arikawa  is  an  fssei,  meaning 
that  he  is  a  Japanese  bom  in  Japan  and,  as  such, 
can  never  under  our  present  laws  become  an 
American  citizen.  His  sons,  having  been  born  in 
the  States  of  Japanese  parents,  are  called  Ni«ei. 
Like  the  Arikawa  boys,  many  other  Nisei  GIs 
have  turned  in  outstanding  performances  in 
this  war.  The  442d,  for  instance,  is  composed 
entirely  of  JVi«ei,  and  so  is  the  100th  Infantry 
Battalion,  which  also  fought  in  Italy,  France  and 
Germany  and  won  a  Presidential  citatioa  It 
reads: 

The  fortitude  and  intrepiditi/  displayed  by  the 
ogtem  find!  mt*  o/  the  l^h  Battalion  refieet 
the  finest  tnuiiKotw  of  the  Army  of  the  United 
States. 

Takeyoshi  .'\rikawa.  as  noted,  feels  'there  are 
too  many  people  in  Los  Angeles  who  would  re- 
sent OUT)  return."  NaturaUy,  ttom  his  point  of 
view,  if  only  one  person 
felt  resentful  to  the 
point  of  violence  that 
would  be  "too  mEuiy," 
whereas  events  in  re- 
cent months  have  dem- 
onstrated that  there  are 
B  considerable  somber 
of  persons  on  the  West 
Coast  who  don't  want 
the  Japanese-Americans 
to  return  and  who  are 
of  the  type  that  will  re- 
sort to  strong-arm  meth- 
ods to  prevent  it. 

How  large  a  propor- 
tion of  the  population 
out  this  way  feels  com- 
petent to  take  the  law 
into  its  own  hands  is 
anybodjf'f  guess  but 
judging   bjr  a  recent 


« If : 


in.- 

ih 

«£ 

>8: 

/«■ 

Ik 

k: 
* 

t: 

9 


West  Coast  vigilantes  in  the  spot  it  mtlbablv  hurt 
•most.  They,"  he  said,  referring  to  the  Nisei  GIs 
•re  far  more  in  the  American  tradition  than  ihJ 
race-baiters  fighting  a  private  war  safely  at  home  " 
Here  may  be  a  few  of  the  reasons  why  so  many 
Issei  and  not  a  few  Nisei  continue  to  believe  that 
Ujey  re  better  off  in  concentration  camps:  In 
Ptacer  County.  Calif.,  a  «ang  led  by  an  AWOi: 
Anny  private  named  Elmer  R.  Johnson  dyna- 
mited a  fruit-packing  shed  owned  by  a  Japanese- 
American  and  flred  shotguns  into  a  Nisei  farmer's 

^^"^  ^         over  the 

hill  after  being  slated  tor  oveneas  duty 

Then  there  was  the  case  of  two  Nwef  ' soldiers 
cm  furlough  who  were  stoned  while  passing 
through  Parker,  Calif.,  on  their  way  to  visit  a  re 
location  center  at  Poston,  Ariz.  And  in  Poston  it- 
self, a  discharged  Nisei  veteran  waa  thrown  mit 
of  a  barber  shop.  He  probably  was  foolish  to  en- 
ter  the  establishment  in  the  first  place  since 
there  was  a  sign  in  the  window  reading,  Kc .  p 
Out.  Japs,  You  Rats, "  but  he  may  have  believed 
that  his  seven  decorations  (one  of  them  a  Purple 
Heart),  plus  the  fact  that  he  was  crippled,  en- 
titled him  to  a  little  consideration. 

In  the  light  of  such  incidents  it  would  not  be 
strange  if  the  Japanese- Americans  who  were 
huddled  in  the  safe^  of  their  wgre^tion  campa 
merely  shrugged  their  shoulders  when  told  that 
two  American  Legion  posts  on  the  Welt  COMt 
had  refused  to  place  the  names  of  Nisei  Ob  on 
their  Second  World  War  memorials. 

Conceivably,  the  people  responsible  for  such 
acts  are  motivated  by  continued  fears  of  espio- 
nage and  sabotage.  If  such  is  the  case,  however, 
it  is  clear  on  the  basis  of  the  record  that  their 
fears  are  about  as  little  grounded  in  fact  as  were 
the  hysterics  over  witches  in  New  England  back 
in  the  17th  century.  All  the  Japanese-Ameri- 
cans during  their  stay  in  segregation  camps 
have  been  questioned  in  detail  concerning  their 
knowledge  of  the  Japanese  language,  the  number 
of  trips  (if  any)  they  had -made  to  Japan,  the 
identity  of  their  Japanese  -relatim.  their  re- 
li^ow  aflMoBs  and  fheir  flMOdal  toftWMta. 

the  Army  said  when  it  told  the  Japanese- 
.      ,    y.  ZCl^  *u-„  iPave  the  camps: 


atateiiMnt  on  the  subject  by  Sec- 
retary of  the  Interior  Harold  h. 
Ickes,  the  group,  although  bel- 
ligerently active,  is  not  large. 
^  After  announcing  that  during 

■       four  months  on  the  West  Coast 
there  had  been  24  incidents  of 
violence  and  intimidation  against 
persons  of  Japanese  descent  by 
"hoodlums"  operating  on  "a  pat- 
tern of  pJanneid  terrorism,"  Ickes 
said:  "It  la  »  matter  of  national 
eoncern   because  this  lawless 
minority  whose  actions  are  con- 
demned by  the  decent  citizens 
who  make  up  an  overwhelming 
majority  of  West  Coast  residents 
seems  determined  to  employ 
its  Nazi  storm-trooper  uctics 
against  loyal  Japanese-Ameri- 
cans and  law-abiding  Japanese 
aliens  in  spite  of  state  laws  and 
Constitutional    safeguards  de- 
signed to  protect  the  lives  and 
property  of  all  th^  people  of  iUt 
TOuntry." 

Then,  paying  tribute  to  the 
Nisei  who  at  the  moment  were 

engaged  in  fighting  the  Japs  in  the  PhilinninM      J«n<in  uru 

and  on  Okinawa,  Ickes  needled  thelrtlSSSteSS      iS?^  "^'^^'^  «>ey  Uve-^ht  ^iA 

West  Coast  vigilantes  m  the  spot  itSSKS     ^^^r^f '  ^..'^'^^-V-val  bies. 


-^jhat  -thef^'^srii^:::^ 

eryone  ha,  be^n^,^  »  day  and  ev- 

bemg  nice  h»««  ^i."'**  "        1  think  they're 

b 

  K'oce 

oe  hypocritical  abcmt" 


>i»  „   '  "'KKesi  naval  iMsea.  " 

Government  officials  say  that  m^A^^'  ' 
cusations  are  way  off  base  Tte 
cans.  I  learned,  do  not  bre«^  Uki 
contrary.  from  1930  to  „^r^^r '  T 

sons  of  Japanese  ancestry  in  the  U^  .f' 
nearly  »  percent.  Far  from  there  l^.n!  ''"'??^'* 
J»panese^mericans  on  the  W^t  (^.?  "  "'2" 
time  of  Pearl  Harh,,,  Coast,  at  the 

them  in  thl  whote  u  £  and^n""  ""^^  '"'"^ 

have  come  in  ^  Ja^neL-Am^r'.clrTh  *  »*W         ^^i^Vv""     "^^  '  ^^-^"^^^y'Te 

""i                  «^^ure  ^  fertlii^r  a^d  the^Ht  U?„           *°  ^  ^ith  the 

•n^lnstead,  considered  by  agri^i^JiYi^LSS  "^on  t  have  to  L  hv^*  P'^"^-  '^^v  cer! 

to  be  as  progressive  and  adenUfiTT.  »•  S??**  k...>-  .  ^  ^°  oe  hypocritical    .^"^ 

on  the  Pacific  Coast  ftvmers 

O^L«  '  'here's  no  deny- 

not  aU  the  Japanese-Americans  had  good  reasons 
for  hvmg  where  they  did.  the  fact  renTains  tha? 
since  Peart  Harbor  there  hasn't  been  a^ngTe  case 
of  sabotage  of  any  significance  on  the  West  Coast 
What  8  more,  high-ranking  Naval  Intelligence 
omcecs  My  that  Japanese-Americans  have  been 
among  their  best  informants  on  enemy  activity. 

Life  is  not  easy  for  those  Japanese-Americans 
who  have  ventured  back  to  their  old  homes  on 
the  Coast,  although  when  I  visited  a  few  of  them 
not  loBg  ai^  I  found  them  for  the  moot  put 
hopeful,  if  not  entirely  happy.  The  first  place  I 
stopped  at  was  the  farm  of  Mr.  and  Mrs  Hitoshi 
Nitta,  a  few  miles  outside  of  Santa  Ana.  Calif. 
The  Nittas  were  married  while  both  were  in- 
terned in  the  Colorado  River  Relocation  Center 
and  now  have  a  year-old  son.  The  husband,  a 
graduate  of  the  California  Polytechnic  Institute, 
has  a  temporary  deferment  from  his  draft  board 
so  that  he  can  get  the  farm  in  shape,  after  which 
he  plans  to  enter  the  Army  and  leave  his  62- 
year-old  father  to  carry  on.  Both  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
NitU  are  natives  of  Santa  Ana  and  belong  to  the 
Methodist  Church  there.  Univer- 
Nitta's  wife,  Mary,  a  graduate      t^e  Univer 
-     •        California,  has  a  brother  Pvt. 


As  the  Army  said  when  it  told  tne  japai.«c-  ^  southern  Califorma.  nas  a  -jL" 

i  imeri^  St  they  could  leave  the  camps:  ^^Vamagata,  who  served  m  Fran^^  with  the 

•TlHirSSeare  the  most  carefully  scrutinued  ^^^d.  She  told  me  ^hat  she  and  her^usb 
ZSSitrSAmerica."  Cor.pnr.^J^^_^^S'n  rr^L^hS^'^^^w?  them  S^tbeir  Uves, 

«k.  fS«i»rTunent  has  on  each  Japanese  neighbors  wno  nau  son,_  U. 


Her  husband  agreed  "T  k.j  .         -"mui  u.  • 

for  a  tractor."  he^'  *°       some  parts 

days  is  prett;  to^g^'tut  b"y  rCin*  ^ 
iween  half  a  dozen  firms  I  J=  "5  "'"""^  ^- 
of  them.  They  were  aU^ci^^  ^^"^  ^  '"^'t 
to  help  out.  My  dad  and  Tk^"'^"""^  '^'^  *iUing 
of  them  before  the  war  Hoi"''  '''"^T^ 
fellow  who  ^id  hJ^^JtVrV^"'''  ^'^^  ""^ 
Japanese  but  would^vTl!  °  business  w.th  a 
Id  send  arounT a  MexLn"  k*'^*  '  ^^"''^^  'f 
farm.  I  ,M.To  thaJflL  '  °° 
Nitta  was  upset  about  the  death  of  I »  o 

Tether" ltA^"'\^^°°L'''"'  ^''y^  sol^lT. 
K   !  ^         »*>out  Roy's  death  aT  t  H„ 

t^ill  °*  who'vt  been 

»oi^  ^/=^»nce.  When  my  deferment  U  up  rm 

American  soldier  with  a  chance  to  fight  for  mv 
country.  You  can't  bUme  people  for  hating  tht 
enemy  of  our  country.  Japan.  But  I'm  an  Ameri- 
can. Mrs.  Corry,  who  has  known  me  since  I  wa.s 
a  kid.  understands  that  and  so  do  my  other  Cau- 
casian friends.  Someday,  I  think  the  rest  of  tht 
country  will,  too." 

I  also  stopped  by  at  the  ten-acre  farm  of  62- 
year-old  Ginzo  Nakada,  who  lives  with  his  crip- 
pled wife.  Kagi.  and  tour  minor  children  just 
outside  Covina,  Calif.  At  his  age.  Nakada  doesn't 
view  life  as  cheerfully  as  the  Mittas  do.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  kids  at  home,  he  has  seven  ions  in  the 
Army,  two  of  them  with  the  i42d  overseas.  Na- 
kada finds  it  tough  supporting  his  family  on  bis 
10  acres  especially  since  he  has  few  i"*^""^** 
to  help  him   with   the  Usk.  The  G^^f*^*^ 
requisitioned  his  tractor  and  »o"»*  •JJSPjg^ 
ment,  and  what  the  Government  didnt  requlsi- 
ttott.  vandals  stole.^      ^^^^^        ^^.^^  ^^^^  ^y^^ 


minority  m  America.  "-"'"•'T"  „egg_American 
the  Government  has  f Sj^.^-^'^gf SdSntains 
tt  seto  free,  the  f*''^^8f„„^i.%iiuX  ticket. 

about  as  much  '"f°™^^^"it'est  ^"^'^ 
Few  people  in  the  Midwest,  m 

know  much  about  ^^P^^^fS  Althoii«h  the 
them  have  never  J^Ji  to  the  SUtes  away 
Japanese  sUrted  l«'»"«'*""irayed  far  from  the 
ba?k  in  ^^'^Z^ZeZ  S^  ot  them  have 
Waot  Coast,  where  tne  nwj" 


Roy 
Howevw* 


neighbors  w»u  ^oi 
including  Mrs.         ^^^uadalcanal.  -----^ 
Corry  Jr..  was  .'""^j^'leome-lately  to  the  eo«i 
she  ?f'<>'^*°iXrn        -rdial.  ^ 
-unity  had  -         were  home^  tt:  car\.  They 


or 


"•^^  pt^piraropped  by  m  two  cars.^.  _ 
"a  g'"""^  "Im  letter  get  out  f  but  we 

Mr 


^^i;  didn't  care  a 

SJ.Wr.can  nei^hbo^^^^  had  against  Uie"^ 
grudges  he  and  j^^^iy.  T^hose 

"O^-  ^'^^    ^wh?  There's  al  ^^f'l^y^  hu- 


there-d  be  ^J«"S!fng  and  we  ''f^;  ^o"re"  groups 


"It  tooK  "  a     ving  for  my  family.' 

»°  ^^'V-  ]  ^Now  I'm  almost  back  to  where 

Nakada  told  ^"^when  the  war  is  over  and 

I  started  40  years  ago  When  i         ^^^^  ^ 
my  sons  come  back  !  ought  to       ^.^  ^JJ^ 
things  run  agam^  but  »gm         ^^e  w«r 
and  so  little  to  work  w  ^^.^^  ^  „ 

feel  these  days,  it  s  hard.  ^^^^^^ 

a  brighter  .n°Jf„„  ^is  outfit  had  re^'  ^tHpe 
about  the  citat^n  n      ^^^^  «t"d  toond 


by 
and 


breed  hrc        „  .up  vVest  |« 
them  out  here      ^^^^  on  the.r^ 
manure  as  Ceruu«  ♦h<.v're  »^ 


Santa 


■TbereU  ' 


UMlV£RSlTYOi=  MlCHiGAN