London, England (AP) – (Aug. 8)
The sale of British newspapers and magazines was banned in U.S. Army camps in Britain today until after the American presidential election.
The Army said the action was taken under the Soldiers’ Voting Act requirement which says “no member of the U.S. Armed Forces shall have his vote influenced in any way.”
A Honolulu editor urges that the execution of Hirohito is necessary to prevent further Japanese aggression. Granting that the editor, in a city which includes a large Japanese colony, knows the character and habits of the Jap better than most of us, we still question his suggestion.
Hirohito, believed by his people to be a descendant of the sun goddess, is a confusion of god and emperor. He is the center of the Japanese state religion, but his temporal power has risen and fallen according to the whims and temper of his ministers. And there seems ample evidence that the militarist clique, not the emperor, willed and planned this war.
To execute Hirohito would be both inexpedient and un-American. Such an act would probably rouse the Japanese people, even though defeated, to a fury that would prolong resistance and cost many more American lives. Besides, it is hardly fitting that a country founded on freedom of worship should put to death a ruler who, however senseless it seems to us, is regarded by his subjects as a divine being. If we bring the Tōjō gang to justice, we shall probably have killed the present root of Jap aggression.
Little Rock, Arkansas (AP) – (Aug. 8)
Negro voters turned out in greatly increased numbers today for Arkansas’ Democratic primary runoff in which youthful Rep. J. W. Fulbright and 53-year-old Governor Homer M. Adkins engaged in a bitter contest for Hattie W. Caraway’s senatorial seat.
The Negro vote was estimated by Dr. J. M. Robinson, president of the Arkansas Negro Democratic Association, at about 5,000. This turnout compared to only about 900 in the preferential primary two weeks ago in which the new state party rule substituting a party loyalty test for a racial ban was given its first trial.
Reports indicated that the voting was generally only slightly heavier than it was July 25 when approximately 185,000 turned out.
The New Deal and the forthcoming presidential election were not even mentioned during the runoff campaign in which issues were overshadowed by personalities.
Adkins attempted to make an issue of the CIO Political Action Committee, claiming that the CIO was actively supporting his opponent. Fulbright denied the charge.
The 55-word Fulbright Resolution, which brought the handsome freshman Congressman national attention, was criticized by Adkins who declared it “does not in any sense of the word offer any plan.”
Fulbright, who was removed as president of the University of Arkansas in 1941 by a board of trustees named by Adkins (an old political opponent), led a five-candidate field in the first primary in which Senator Caraway, the nation’s only woman Senator, was eliminated. Mrs. Caraway adopted a hand-off policy in the runoff.
Agents for a senatorial committee investigating campaign expenses watched balloting in several counties for possible violations of the Federal Corrupt Practices Act. Chief Investigator George J. Shillito said no complaints of any consequence had been received thus far. There were reports of heavy campaign expenditures in the first primary.
The polls opened at 8:00 a.m. and closed at 6:30 p.m. CT.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 9, 1944)
Vote on controversial job compensation issue may come in Senate tomorrow
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13 enemy planes ripped on Halmahera
By William B. Dickinson, United Press staff writer
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Agreement is essentially a U.S. plan and approves use of petroleum sanctions
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Germans have difficulty in retreating as Allies dominate roads, cripple transport
By Richard D. McMillan, United Press staff writer
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Allies inch forward in western suburbs
By Eleanor Packard, United Press staff writer
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By Ernie Pyle
In Normandy, France – (by wireless)
It is possible to become so enthralled by some of the spectacles of war that you are momentarily captivated away from your own danger.
That’s what happened to our little group of soldiers as we stood in a French farmyard, watching the mighty bombing of the German lines just before our breakthrough.
But that benign state didn’t last long. As we watched, there crept into our consciousness a realization that windrows of exploding bombs were easing back toward us flight by flight, instead of gradually forward, as the plan called for.
Then we were horrified by the suspicion that those machines, high in the sky and completely detached from us, were aiming their bombs at the smoke line on the ground – and a gentle breeze was drifting the smoke line back over us!
An indescribable kind of panic comes over you at such times. We stood tensed in muscle and frozen in intellect, watching each flight approach and pass over us, feeling trapped and completely helpless.
And then all of an instant the universe became filled with a gigantic rattling as of huge, dry seeds in a mammoth dry gourd. I doubt that any of us had ever heard that sound before, but instinct told us what it was. It was bombs by the hundred, hurtling down through the air above us.
Many times I’ve heard bombs whistle or swish or rustle, but never before had I heard bombs rattle. I still don’t know the explanation of it. But it is an awful sound.
We dived. Some got in a dugout. Others made foxholes and ditches and some got behind a garden wall – although which side would be “behind” was anybody’s guess.
Too late for the dugout
I was too late for the dugout. The nearest place was a wagon shed which formed one end of the stone house. The rattle was right down upon us. I remember hitting the ground flat, all spread out like the cartoons of people flattened by steamrollers, and then of squirming like an eel to get under one of the heavy wagons in the shed.
An officer whom I didn’t know was wriggling beside me. We stopped at the same time, simultaneously feeling it w a s hopeless to move farther. The bombs were already crashing around us.
We lay with our heads slightly up – like two snakes staring at each other. I know it was in both our minds and in our eyes, asking each other what to do. Neither of us knew. We said nothing. We just lay sprawled, gaping at each other in a futile appeal, our faces about a foot apart, until it was over.
There is no description of the sound and fury of those bombs except to say it was chaos, and a waiting for darkness. The feeling of the blast was sensational. The air struck you in hundreds of continuing flutters. Your ears drummed and rang. You could feel quick little waves of concussions on your chest and in your eyes.
At last, the sound died down and we looked at each other in disbelief. Gradually we left the foxholes and sprawling places, and came out to see what the sky had in store for us. As far as we could see other waves were approach from behind.
When a wave would pass a little to the side of us we were garrulously grateful, for most of them flew directly overhead. Time and again the rattle came down over us. Bombs struck in the orchard to our left. They struck in orchards ahead of us. They struck as far as half a mile behind us. Everything about us was shaken, but our group came through unhurt.
Inhuman tenseness
I can’t record what any of us actually felt or thought during those horrible climaxes. I believe a person’s feelings at such times are kaleidoscopic and uncatalogable. You just wait, that’s all, You do remember an inhuman tenseness of muscle and nerves.
An hour or so later, I began to get sore all over, and by midafternoon my back and shoulders ached as though I’d been beaten with a club. It was simply the result of muscles tensing themselves too tight for too long against anticipated shock. And I remember worrying about war correspondent Ken Crawford, a friend from back in the old Washington days, who I knew was several hundred yards ahead of me.
As far as I knew, he and I were the only two correspondents with the 4th Division. I didn’t know who might be with the divisions on either side – which also were being hit, as we could see.
Three days later, back at camp, I learned that AP photographer Bede Irvin had been killed in the bombing and that Ken was safe.
We came out of our ignominious sprawling and stood up again to watch. We could sense that by now the error had been caught and checked. The bombs again were falling where they were intended, a mile or so ahead.
Even at a mile away, a thousand bombs hitting within a few seconds can shake the earth and shatter the air where you are standing. There was still a dread in our hearts, but it gradually eased as the tumult and destruction moved slowly forward.
Völkischer Beobachter (August 10, 1944)
Im Osten Neuformierungsversuche der Sowjets
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