Rehabilitation bill for disabled veterans
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Food put first in draft plan of farm bloc
Change strategy if need be, Senator Nye suggests; debate is set
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Striptease scene gets ‘okay’ from the Hays Office censors
Lucille’s dress torn from her at ‘prom’
By Erskine Johnson
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Roving Reporter
By Ernie Pyle
The Tunisian front – (March 5, by wireless)
Late one afternoon, I drove my jeep to the cactus patch which contained headquarters, I had often stayed there, and felt like a member of the family.
Without reporting in or anything, I just picked out a little open spot among the bushes, got out my shovel and started digging a hole to sink my pup tent into. I had the hole about four inches deep and only half long enough, when I heard a shout:
Here they come.
Immediately all over the cactus patch guns started firing. Dive bombers had comer out if the sun, and were on us almost before we knew it. My hole in the sand was still not large enough to harbor a man even as slight as myself. But, I assure you, its inadequacy did not deter me from diving into it forthwith.
As always in an air raid, I was torn between getting under cover and staying out to see what was going on. My policy seems to be the reverse of the ostrich – I stuck my rear in the sand and leave my head out, thinking I’m safe.
So, I lay there in the shallow depression, but proposed one elbow to get a good view.
Right now, I want to say that anybody who can tell, after a dive-bombing attack, just exactly what happened is a genius. It is all so fast and confusing.
Details hard to remember
Your senses seem to play hooky on you. After that raid, I could not tell you how many bombs dropped, how many planes took part, what kind they were, whether any stated smoking, or what direction they went when they left.
They came down one at a time, seemingly from everywhere. As soon as one finishes its dive, you start looking for the next one. You lose sight of the one which just passed, and don’t know what happened to him.
You see others in the sky in addition to the one now making its dive. They seem to be going in all directions. The air is full of tracer bullets and black ack-ack puffs. You get these spots confused with planes.
I remember feeling a wonderful elation when I saw one tracer tear right smack into its target – only to realize a moment later it had entered a puff of smoke instead of an enemy plane. You hear the scream of diving planes and the clatter of shooting around. You hear explosions of ack-ack and shells and bombs going off, and truly can’t tell which is which. At least, I can’t.
You sense, more than actually see, bombs falling around you – and duck after you hear the explosion, which obviously would be too late if it were really close.
They dive-bombed us twice that evening. Before I got my sandpit finished, men were killed within 200 yards of me. Yet a bomb that far away isn’t even considered in your neighborhood. It must be within 50 feet before you start telling big stories about your escape.
One of the most vivid remembrances I have of the raid is of a flight of little birds roosting in the cactus patch. That horrible melee and shooting scares the wits out of them. They start flying hysterically in all directions.
Birds don’t like bombs either
Time and again I duck instinctively from flying bomb fragments – only to realize later that it is the little silver birds, darting frantically back and forth amidst the cactus bushes.
I went through another dive-bombing attack during the Sidi Bouzid battle. That part of the desert is flat as a polished tabletop, with not a hole or ditch anywhere. So, I psychopathically lay down behind an old dead bush about 12 inches high.
I remember only two things during the few minutes they were over us. One was getting my breath in little short jerks – almost panting – though lying flat on my back, looking up at the planes, and not exerting myself on any way. The other was my feeling of indignation and frustration that dozens of enemy planes could fly smack overhead, not more than 500 feet, with the sky around them absolutely speckled with tracer bullets and not a single plane be brought down.
Our Air Corps contends that dive bombing is relatively harmless and that, as soon as our troops get seasoned, we will be knocking them off so fast they will stop it. True, dive bombing does not kill as many people as you would think. But the great damage is psychological. The sound and sight of a dive bomber peeling off from formation, and heading right down at you, is one of the most nerve-shattering episodes of war.
It takes guts, and plenty, not to run or not to turn your head at the last moment. Maybe our troops eventually will get hardened to it.
As for me, I’m too old to change my ways, and my way is just to lie there scared stiff.
Guffey puts fourth term issue in open
Tradition does not prevent return of Roosevelt, he tells Senate
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Elliott Roosevelt defends brothers’ military record
Lambertson’s attack characterized in letter from Africa as a political ‘stab in the back’
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Collier’s (March 6, 1943)
What’s cookin’ in Hollywood
With shortages of meat, eggs, gasoline, rubber ands whatnot worrying the nation, Hollywood came up with a number of bright ideas. Fortunately, indeed, each idea when properly executed is quite edible and, for a change (from the Hollywood point of view), quite economical.
Whether you are a movie star or John Citizen bucking a rivet gun in an aircraft plant, eating is pretty important, and eating well is doubly essential. With conversation a prime consideration, it isn’t how much money you can spend, but what you are able to buy and what you can “stretch” that count.
Hollywood has done a complete about-face and banned the lavish, costly dish. But, of course, Hollywood wouldn’t be Hollywood unless it put a few frills even on hamburger. In many of these dishes on the new “ration” menu, influences from South America and other corners of the world find their way into the kitchen.
These days when the inhabitants of Glamor Town take off their faces and sit down to dine, the taste may be varied, but every meal is eaten with the full knowledge that a quarter of a pound of butter or a pound of ground round steak is just as rare in Hollywood as in wheeling, West Virginia. Rarer.
Lucille Ball stretches her butter by adding one fourth cup of milk, pasteurized sour cream, sweet cream or evaporated milk to one half pound of butter. She creams the butter first, then adds milk or cream gradually and whips in an electric mixer until blended. This method makes one half to three fourths again as much butter. This “whipping butter” can’t be used for baking, but is fine for vegetables, and on breads, toast or rolls.
Carmen Miranda came forth with two recipes à la Brazil. They’re called feijoada and peadinho. Feijoada is made by soaking enough Brazilian black beans for four people overnight. Pour off the water, and add one clove of garlic, a piece of pork, two small sausages (cut in cubes). Add not water, cover and cover and cook over a slow fire for two and hours. Then add a chopped onion which has been browned in oil. To make peadinho, cook one pound of chopped spinach, add one half pound of chopped meat which has been fried. Then add one onion and a pound of small tomatoes which have been cooked slowly in drippings. Mix this sauce gradually with the spinach and meat. They these two dishes and you’ll know why Brazilians dance the Samba. Both recipes will serve four people.
Charlie McCarthy shows Edgar Bergen how to remove the T-bone from a sardine. Charlie explains that you throw away the meat and eat the bone. “The bone is rich in roughage, you know, old boy,” he says. Disliking waste, the solicitous Charlie will eat the meat himself.
Barbara Stanwyck’s favorite salad is a combination of lettuce, tomatoes, celery, and chicken or leftover bits of meat. She says you may fill in with fish instead of the chicken or meat, if you like. Mix ingredients together with your favorite salad dressing just before serving.
Veronica Lake makes Bell Peppers by boiling one cup of rice in salted water. Drain, wash rice in cold water. Add two cans tomato sauce and half-pound of fresh mushrooms which have been sautéed in ham drippings. Stuff six peppers, top with sliced pimiento cheese. Bake for half an hour.
Who eats gasoline and rubber?
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U.S. Navy Department (March 7, 1943)
Communiqué No. 302
South Pacific.
On March 5:
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U.S. aircraft bombed enemy installations at Viru Harbor on the southern coast of New Georgia Island.
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During the night of March 5‑6, Japanese planes raided U.S. positions on Tulagi Island, 20 miles north of Guadalcanal airfield. Two men were killed.
On March 6:
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During the early morning a large force of U.S. planes bombed and strafed Japanese positions at Munda on New Georgia Island. Results were not reported.
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During the morning, Liberator heavy bombers (Consolidated) bombed and started fires in the enemy‑held areas at Kahili, Buin and Ballale in the Shortland Island area.
The Pittsburgh Press (March 7, 1943)
Yanks capture Tunisian town
By Virgil Pinkley, United Press staff writer
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U.S. fliers raid sub bases; Essen spouts tower of fire
Americans hammer Brest, Lorient after RAF blasts German arsenal city
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Destroyer attack fails –
2 Jap warships sunk in battle
Enemy’s Solomons bases shelled by task force
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States seek laws to curb union acts
Kansas and California consider bills banning war plant strikes
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Mme. Chiang at Wellesley
Wellesley, Massachusetts – (March 6)
Madame Chiang Kai-shek, wife of the Chinese generalissimo, came back to her alma mater, Wellesley College, for the first time in 26 years today. In her college days, she was Mei-ling Soong. Madame Chiang traveled from New York to Boston by train and then motored to Wellesley.
Navy yields to Cupid
Washington – (March 6)
The Navy bowed to Dan Cupid tonight and announced cancellation of the regulation forbidding women reservists of the Navy, Marines and Coast Guard to marry men in their own branch of the service.