U-boat losses greater than replacements
Allied toll of submarines surpasses number of ships sunk
By Sandor S. Klein, United Press staff writer
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Allied toll of submarines surpasses number of ships sunk
By Sandor S. Klein, United Press staff writer
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Report of investigation indicates Nazi trick to create confusion among Catholics
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Our only right is to get out after war, Chandler declares
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‘Eager to fight – at earliest possible moment’ European Theater commander asserts
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By Ernie Pyle
This is the first of a new series of columns by Ernie Pyle, in which the famous war reporter tells his impressions and experiences at home. Mr. Pyle is about to push off on a new assignment to the war zones.
They say that when people lie in hospitals for two or three months, they have to learn to walk all over again when they finally get out of bed.
That’s the way I feel about column-writing after being away from it for nearly eight weeks. I feel as though I should take a correspondence course in how to start the first sentence. Even more so, I feel how nice it would be never to write a column again at all.
It really is hard to start back to the old grind. It’s hard to regiment yourself to daily, consecutive toil. It’s hard to force yourself away from home, with all its close ties and warm routines. But in these times, a fellow can’t just sit forever.
So, there’ll be a few “home” columns, and then there may be some days’ lapse while this pale chronicler again is being wafted across the oceans. And then, if all goes well, the old war columns will start once more.
Ernie dreads going back again
It is one of our popular heroic myths that anybody who comes back from the combat zone begins to itch after a few weeks, and finally gets so homesick for the front he can hardly stand it. In the movies, he starts back before his furlough is up.
Pap! And also tish! I’ve never hated to do anything as badly in my life as I hate to go back to the front. I dread it, and I’m afraid of it. But what can a guy do? I know millions of others who are reluctant, too, and they can’t even get home. So here we go.
The decision, it’s true, is my own. Nobody is forcing me to go back. Probably that’s the reason I feel so glum about it. Going back is all my own fault. I could kick myself.
During my stay at home, I’ve met a good many men back from overseas, men who really had been through the mill. I could sense in them the beginning of restlessness. Some even admitted they would like to go back overseas. But – and this is my point – I never met a single one who would ever go back into actual combat again if he could help it.
What returned soldiers actually do feel, after a while, is a sort of guilt at being here so comfortable and nice, when the guys you went through so much with are still over there taking it. You feel like a deserter and a heel – not so much to the war effort, but to your friends who are still over there freezing and getting shot at.
Few are really touched here
People at home all ask you about the same questions:
When will the war end? One guess is as good as another, if not better.
What has become of the 7th Army? I don’t know, and couldn’t tell if I did know.
What do you think about the home front? Honestly, it’s hard for me to say. I don’t truly feel that we’re very much at war here at home, but for some reason I can’t seem to get very exercised about it.
In home spirit, we aren’t in the war as deeply as some other countries, but I don’t see how we could be. With us so big and scattered, and the enemy so far away, the war is bound to seem academic to most of us. Only those who have received the dreaded telegram from the War Department feel it really.
Materially, it seems to me we hardly have been touched by war here at home. Okay, it’s hard to buy liquor, and women’s socks are awful, and you have to ride the bus, but so what? Our little annoying restrictions and shortages are so puny compared to those of other countries. We are still so rich and so well-fed and so plentiful.
I can’t see that it’s anybody’s fault, or even that it’s shameful, especially. We haven’t had anything yet, on a national scale, to burn and crucify us into anything greater than we were to begin with.
To most of us, the war doesn’t really hurt. The war is only a sense of oppression that hangs above our hearts. It’s an insecurity that we sense, not a pain that we feel. And I don’t see how it could be otherwise, unless we were fighting on our own doorsteps, in our own cities.
Völkischer Beobachter (November 11, 1943)
Von unserer Stockholmer Schriftleitung
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The Pittsburgh Press (November 11, 1943)
The first winter snows were falling on Italy’s mountains today as American boys fought and died to capture two important peaks.
The first winter snows were falling on the hills of Western Pennsylvania as a majority of her coalminers quit work for the fifth time this year – refusing to work on Armistice Day at less than time-and-one-half wages.
The steel mills and blast furnaces upon which the troops in Italy and the battling Marines on Bougainville depend for arms were limping back into production after the previous strike – with the lowest coal reserves in their history. Coal companies were striving desperately to deliver fuel to the empty bins of thousands of homes.
Thus was Armistice Day observed there and here.
And when this war is over, there will be unknown soldiers in far places who died because the miners let them down.
That will be a memory on some future Armistice Day.
Armistice Day! (1943)
By Sgt. Fred S. Wertenbach, Press staff writer
We who fell where the cool Marne lay,
Or tasted death in the Argonne’s gray,
In the sodden trench or on rolling plain,
Where war reaped lives as a farmer grain,
We slept content, for our dreams were then
Of the peace we brought to the hearts of men.
A peace we dreamed, through the drifting years,
Would banish war – and its countless fears.But all in vain, for a greater war
Ravages countries both near and far
Once more do the nations in ruins cry
Their bitter shame to unfeeling sky
Haunting the dreams of the ones who made
The sacrifice – and who were betrayed
By a land whose birthright was blindly sold
For a life of ease – and a pot of gold.Awake, O nation whose flag unfurled
Holds the last hope of a stricken world.
You must buy peace, in the red-stained mud
Of a dozen lands, with your young sons’ blood.
And as we asked, they will plead again
That their sacrifice shall not be in vain.
They shall charge the living to ever keep
The peace nobly won… lest they cannot sleep.
Celebrants march on cold, gray streets
By Maxine Garrison
The 25th celebration of Armistice Day was staged here today as paraders marched through cold, gray streets.
When 11 o’clock struck, the skies were dark and boding as at night. Then, just past 11, the sun cut sharply through the gloom, in what spectators told each other was an omen of good luck.
Umbrellas in evidence
But when the parade started, vagrant snow obscured the vision of watchers and quieted the feet of the marchers. Down the Fifth Ave. sidelines umbrellas bobbed along the scantily filled sidewalks, and many of the spectators spread newspapers to protect their feet from the wetness.
The crowd was oddly quiet, with none of the usual shoving and high-pitched conversation, except for a few members of a bobby-sock brigade jitterbugging behind the lines. Women and small children made up the bulk of the crowd, standing silently behind the ropes to pay a sort of vicarious tribute to their own absent soldiers.
Policemen get cold
As today’s soldiers went by, the mother of a soldier now in Africa said:
I wish that was my boy out there.
Policemen, usually hard-pressed on parade days, could have taken it easy today except for one thing – they were still wearing their summer uniforms, because the order hadn’t yet come through to switch to the heavy ones and overcoats, and they had to beat their hands against their sides to try to keep warm.
As the first motorcycle came down the street, honking loudly, the silent crowd leaned forward. Yes, there they came – the motorcycle police, barely edging along, the city mounted police om their slow-stepping black horses, the county mounted on the high-spirited dancing bays.
Veteran, 17, leads
And then, finally, the soldiers – and once more that wordless forward surge of the crowd. “Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag, and smile, smile, smile,” played the band of that early AEF, and its fighters followed through. Their high-necked tunics don’t fit so well these days, and some of them have had to trade their 1918 tunics for larger sizes in the modern style, and in a different shade of khaki. They’re gray-haired now, stouter, and most of them are wearing glasses.
In front of them, the leader of the parade, went 17-year-old Richard H. Moffat, a former Marine invalided home from the Pacific. With his arms held out stiffly at his side, young Moffat brought the first concerted murmur from the crowd.
Few jeeps in line
After the World War I veterans, the white-haired men who fought in the Spanish-American War, marched along to the sprightly fife notes of “Yankee Doodle Dandy.”
There were very few representatives of today’s fighting forces, but nobody seemed to mind. A few jeeps, a few anti-tank cars, a few trucks – just a handful to represent the millions on the fighting fronts.
WACs called best
Why, they’re the best marchers in the parade!
That was the exclamation when the WACs came by, stepping along smartly to their own band’s brisk rendition of “Stars and Stripes Forever.” And nobody seemed to find it strange that women should be marching in uniform in a military parade.
And then the minute’s silence was over, and the sun came out. And the spectators put down their umbrellas.
After completing its downtown march, the parade crossed to the North Side and passed in review on Ridge Ave.
The American Legion will hold its annual military all in the William Penn Hotel at 9:00 p.m. ET tonight.
Guests of honor at the celebration will include Governor Edward Martin, Gen. E. C. Shannon (commander of the 111th Infantry in France), Gen. Frank S. Cocheu of Washington (commander of the 319th Infantry), Carl J. Schoeninger (commander-in-chief of the Veterans of Foreign Wars), Dr. Charles I. Shaffer (department commander) and Col. Guy V. Boyle of Indianapolis (national commander of the United Spanish War Veterans).
Notables present
Others present were Adolph A. Goldblum (department commander of the Jewish War Veterans), Calvin F. Cherry (department commander of the Disabled American Veterans), Col. John A. Hawkins of Solebury, Pennsylvania (first president of the Federation of War Veterans), Cdr. F. W. Leahy (USCG) and Capt. F. L. Oliver (USN).
In McKeesport, more than 10,000 schoolchildren marched in a parade with veterans and soldiers in line with police and firemen of the district.
Participating organizations included Burt Foster Post No. 361 (American Legion), Carl Everett Post No. 514 (Veterans of Foreign Wars) and members of Chapter 56 (Disabled American Veterans). Alderman Robert C. Calhoun was chairmen of the Parade Committee.
Allies push ahead 5 miles, battle in snow on road to Rome
By Harrison Salisbury, United Press staff writer
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Day raid follows Allied blows on Nazi rail lines to Italy
By Collie Small, United Press staff writer
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Wipe out half of party put ashore on Bougainville
By Brydon C. Taves, United Press staff writer
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U.S. receives less than seventh of output
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Another great difference now is that fatherland has finally felt devastation from air
By Bertram Benedict, editorial research reports
If Germany again should ask for an armistice, one great difference exists between the situation today and the one which existed exactly 25 years ago. It is to be unconditional surrender this time.
In World War I, President Wilson had made various statements of peace aims, and on the basis of these, Germany asked for, and was granted, an armistice.
Three reservations were made on the Fourteen Points – on freedom of the seas and on payment for the war, by the Allies; and on autonomy for subject races of Austria-Hungary, by Mr. Wilson, who had agreed that the Czechoslovaks and Yugoslavs ought to have freedom, not merely autonomy.
Another great difference is that, in 1918, German soil was still free and undamaged by the invader, whereas in 1943 many German cities have been devastated from the air. The German people have learned at first hand, as they had not learned in 1918, what the military side of war means. But the food situation in Germany may be less critical in 1943 than in 1918.
Then and now
In 1918, Russia had been forced to make a separate peace, and Germany was fighting on only one front; in 1943, probably the greatest danger to Germany comes from the Russian front. In 1918, the steadily retreating German armies in France and Belgium could not go back much farther without crossing into the Fatherland; in 1943, the German armies in Russia and Italy, although steadily retreating, are still far from German soil.
In 1918, Germany’s three allies were through. Austria-Hungary asked for peace (at German instigation) three weeks before Germany did; Bulgaria agreed to an armistice five days before Germany suggested one; Turkey asked for peace soon after Germany did. Today,
Italy not only has surrendered, but has actually declared war against Germany. Bulgaria, Romania, Hungary and Finland are at the point of throwing up the sponge, but Japan is expected to continue hostilities long after Germany quits.
Dictatorship closes vents
In 1918, Germany was still under a parliamentary form of government, and the Reichstag, although its powers were somewhat clipped, could still make opposition to war effective. Trade unions were still legal, as were strikes – in fact, more than seven months before Germany asked for peace, a serious nationwide strike had crippled German munitions production for almost a week. Newspapers and individuals could still be critical of the conduct of the war, within reason, and more than a year before Germany opened the armistice negotiations the Reichstag had forced the Chancellor, Bethmann-Hollweg, out of office.
Today, Germany operates under a total dictatorship, with no vents open for criticism of the war or of the government, with all members of the Reichstag named Charlie McCarthy, and with trade unions and the critical press suppressed.
No colonies to lose now
In 1918, Germany could expect to lose its colonies in Africa, its islands in the Pacific, its lease on the Shantung Peninsula of China, and Alsace-Lorraine. Today, Germany has no colonies to lose, but will have to give up Austria, the Sudetenland and the German conquests in Europe. In 1918, Germany expected to have to pay repatriation damages; today, by the time Germany surrenders, she may be down to economic bedrock, from which the war victors can get little or nothing.
In 1918, Germany could expect to see the Kaiser dethroned and probably the monarchy disestablished, but otherwise the German form of government merely liberalized. Today, the entire Nazi system is to be uprooted. In 1918, the German leaders could expect to go unharmed after surrender; today they have been told in unmistakable terms that all the German war criminals are subject to trial and punishment for their crimes.
German bid on Oct. 4
The first request for peace in 1918 came from the chief of Germany’s three satellites, Austria-Hungary. On Sept. 15, the Austro-Hungarian government sent to all nations, neutral as well as belligerent, a request for a “non-binding” conference on peace. Hostilities were to continue while the conference was being held. The next day, President Wilson replied that the United States had stated its peace terms clearly, so that no conference was in order. On Sept. 29, Bulgaria signed armistice terms.
On Oct. 4, the German government asked Mr. Wilson to invite all belligerent states to enter into peace negotiations. Germany accepted the Wilson peace program as set forth in the Fourteen Points, in other addresses, and especially in the Metropolitan Opera House address. Germany requested an armistice in the meantime.
Willing to evacuate
On Oct. 8, Mr. Wilson asked the German government if, in accepting his peace principles, it wanted to negotiate only on their practical application. He said he could not propose an armistice while German armies were upon Allied soil.
On Oct. 12, Germany replied that it suggested discussions only on how the Wilsonian peace terms were to be worked out. It said it was a new German government supported by the majority of the Reichstag. Germany was willing to evacuate all foreign territory.
On Oct. 14, the American President stated that there could be no discussion of armistice or evacuation details because these would be fixed by the military authorities and would be such as to insure the existing Allied and American supremacy in the field. Nor could be armistice be considered while Germany was pursuing its inhuman submarine warfare and its spoliation of districts being evacuated. And the German people would have to get rid of the “arbitrary power” which had so far controlled them.
Offer finely submitted
On Oct. 20, Germany replied that it expected the armistice terms to safeguard the existing military situation, but trusted the President not to approve of any demands “irreconcilable with the honor of the German people.” Orders had been given to end the submarine warfare and any evacuation practices contrary to international law. A bill had been introduced to give the Reichstag the power overt future war discussions.
Therefore, on Oct. 23, Mr. Wilson told Germany he was submitting its peace offer to the Allies, but warned again they would demand unconditional surrender if the “military masters and monarchical autocrats” of Germany were still in power. On Oct. 27, Germany replied that it appreciated all this, and awaited the proposal for an armistice.
On Oct. 30, Turkey signed armistice terms. Austria-Hungary, with which Mr. Wilson had been negotiating separately, signed armistice terms on Nov. 4. The German peace delegates arrived at Marshal Foch’s headquarters Nov. 7, were received Nov. 8, complained for several days of the harshness of the armistice terms handed them, and signed them Nov. 11.