CANDIDLY SPEAKING —
Mental torture
By Maxine Garrison
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Competitors want co-ops to pay taxes
Unfair treatment on levies charged
By John W. Love, Scripps-Howard staff writer
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Roving Reporter
By Ernie Pyle
With Allied beachhead forces in Italy – (by wireless)
When you get to Anzio you waste no time getting off the boat, for you have been feeling pretty much like a clay pigeon in a shooting gallery.
But after a few hours in Anzio, you wish you were back on the boat, for you could hardly describe being ashore as any haven of peacefulness.
As we came into the harbor, shells skipped the water within a hundred yards of us.
In our first day ashore, a bomb exploded so close to the place where I was sitting that a fragment came through the window of the room next to mine.
On our second evening ashore, a screamer slammed into the hill so suddenly that it almost knocked us down with fright. It smacked into the trees a short distance away.
And on the third day ashore, an 88 went off within 20 yards of us.
I wished I was in New York.
Reporters under fire
When I write about my own occasional association with shells and bombs, there is one thing I want you folks at home to be sure to get straight. And that is that the other correspondents are in the same boat – many of them much more so.
You know about my own small experiences, because it’s my job to write about how these things sound and feel. But you don’t know what the other reporters go through, because it usually isn’t their job to write about themselves.
There are correspondents here on the beachhead, and on the Cassino front also who have had dozens of close shaves. I know of one correspondent who was knocked down four times by near-misses on his first day here.
Two correspondents, Reynolds Packard of the United Press and Homer Bigart of The New York Herald-Tribune, have been on the beachhead since D-Day without a moment’s respite. They’ve become so veteran that they don’t even mention a shell striking 20 yards away.
Nobody is wholly safe
On this beachhead, every inch of our territory is under German artillery fire. There is no rear area that is immune, as in most battle zones. They can reach us with their 88s, and they use everything from that on up.
I don’t mean to suggest that they keep every foot of our territory drenched with shells all the time, for they certainly don’t. They are short of ammunition, for one thing.
But they can reach us, and you never know where they’ll shoot next. You’re just as liable to get hit standing in the doorway of the villa where you sleep at night, as you are in a command post five miles out in the field.
Some days they shell us hard, and some days hours will go by without a single shell coming over. Yet nobody is wholly safe, and anybody who says he has been around Anzio two days without having a shell hit within a hundred yards of him is just bragging.
People who know the sounds of warfare intimately are puzzled and irritated by the sounds up here. For some reason, you can’t tell anything about anything.
The Germans shoot shells of half a dozen sizes, each of which makes a different sound of explosion. You can’t gauge distance at all.
One shell may land within your block and sound not much louder than a shotgun. Another landing a quarter mile away makes the earth tremble as in an earthquake, and starts your heart to pounding.
You can’t gauge direction, either. The 88 that hit within 20 yards of us didn’t make so much noise. I would have sworn it was 200 yards away and in the opposite direction.
Get weak in the knees
Sometimes you hear them coming, and sometimes you don’t.
Sometimes you hear the shell whine after you’ve heard it explode. Sometimes you hear it whine and it never explodes. Sometimes the house trembles and shakes and you hear no explosion at all.
But I’ve found one thing here that’s just the same as anywhere else – and that’s that old weakness in the joints when they get to landing close.
I’ve been weak all over Tunisia and Sicily, and in parts of Italy, and I get weaker than ever up here.
When the German raiders come over at night, and the sky lights up bright as day with flares, and ack-ack guns set up a turmoil and pretty soon you hear and feel the terrible power of exploding bombs – well, your elbows get flabby and you breathe in little short jerks, and your chest feels empty, and you’re too excited to do anything but hope.
Marines raise quota for women reservists
Call may be last for that branch
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WACs choose own training
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Stokes: Willkie on labor
By Thomas L. Stokes
Milwaukee, Wisconsin –
Wendell L. Willkie does not have the highly critical attitude toward labor now prevalent among some elements in his own party and in the Southern wing of the Democratic Party.
This attitude expresses itself in exaggeration about strikes, in minimizing labor’s contribution to the war, and in demands for enactment of a law by Congress to prevent strikes in wartime.
Mr. Willkie deplores these tendencies and counsels moderation in approaching the problem.
This was the spirit, a spirit of tolerance, in which he presented a program for labor last night at Milwaukee that is designed to attract to his side elements of labor that are becoming dissatisfied with the Roosevelt administration. He believes large groups of labor was included in that independent vote, still undecided, which he says the Republican Party must have to win, and to which he is making a studied appeal in his campaign for delegates in the April 4 primary election here.
He said:
You’d think from public statements that all labor is doing is striking. Its contribution in this war has been magnificent. One of the most magnificent stories that will come out of this war will be labor’s record of production.
Basic in appraisal of the labor problem, he holds, is recognition first that only in recent years has labor established its rights, and only recently has engaged in political activity to protect those rights.
Mistakes are natural
He said:
It has had less experience than other elements of society. It was natural that it should make mistakes, that its leaders should make mistakes. That must be expected.
For that reason, tolerance is needed, he explains.
He does not condone strikes in wartime. No one, he said, has been more condemnatory of strikes in wartime than he. Some of these have been wildcat strikes; some he attributed to a vacillating policy of the government.
Likewise, he is highly critical of some labor leaders. He condemns labor racketeering, but emphasized that this has been less than sometimes represented, and has not affected the great mass of union members.
He believes that labor, itself, must set its house in o5rder and must recognize its responsibilities, rather than seeking to accomplish this by issuing public statements and by having Congress pass laws.
For that he recommended a threefold program:
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Labor must remove from its leadership arrogant and corrupt leaders.
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Labor must develop more of a sense of responsibility in its economic and social relations.
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Labor must democratize itself, must give more power to individual union members, more participation for them in its activities and in the formulation of its policies.
Capable young men in ranks
In connection with the necessity of removing corrupt and arrogant leaders, Mr. Willkie said there are many capably young men in the ranks of labor who are qualified for national leadership, and these men should be recognized and given an opportunity for leadership.
As for government, he held that labor should not have to deal with a multitude of boards and commissions as now, and, to this end, he said much could be done by having real labor representation in the Cabinet, in the Secretary of Labor. The Secretary, he said, should recognize labor’s interest in international affairs as well as domestic affairs, in tax programs, welfare and the like. It should be developed into a real broad-gauge office.
Mr. Willkie deplored very much all the talk that this country faces some “inevitable, irresponsible conflict” between capital and labor. He doesn’t see any such inevitable, irrepressible conflict.
He gave his prescription for solving labor troubles.
He said:
You solve them by creating an atmosphere in which there is no occasion for them, and by a policy of government that is fair, firm and non-discriminatory.
U.S. Navy Department (March 29, 1944)
CINCPAC Press Release No. 329
For Immediate Release
March 29, 1944
Four enemy positions in the Marshalls were bombed and strafed on March 27 (West Longitude Date) by Dauntless dive bombers and Corsair fighters of the Fourth Marine Aircraft Wing, Mitchell bombers of the Seventh Army Air Force, Ventura search planes of Fleet Air Wing Two and Navy Hellcat fighters. Meager antiaircraft fire was encountered. None of our planes was shot down.
On the same day a Coronado search plane of Fleet Air Wing Two dropped bombs on Pakin Island.
The Pittsburgh Press (March 29, 1944)
FORTRESSES STRIKE DEEP INTO GERMANY
Liberators rip Pas de Calais invasion area
Violent air battle reported by Nazis
By Walter Cronkite, United Press staff writer
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ALLIES QUIT CASSINO HILLS
Advance units retreat from two points on slopes of mountain
Bombers cut all railroads supplying German armies in central Italy
By Reynolds Packard, United Press staff writer
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Cassino hotel radiates death
Tanks roar out like dragons from caves
By James E. Roper, United Press staff writer
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British fall back on Indian border
Jap forces swarm toward key city
By Darrell Berrigan, United Press staff writer
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18 named as Reds –
CIO’s political group called communistic, subversive by Dies
Hillman, not Browder, No. 1 Communist, report says; Phil Murray named
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Killed: Miss Frances F. Grimes, 30, a WASP, and a Pitt graduate in 1937, was killed this week at Otis Field, Massachusetts, when her target-towing plane crashed shortly after a takeoff. Miss Grimes, former woman tennis champion of West Virginia, enlisted in 1942 and served as a flight instructor. She was formerly employed by Dr. Lytle S. Adams of the Tri-State Aviation Corporation.
I DARE SAY —
Poker game
By Florence Fisher Parry
Thomas L. Stokes is writing some very pungent political commentary. His column the other day on Wendell Willkie’s minor league itinerary seems to me to be one of the most pungent pieces of reporting of recent date. For the presidential campaign is upon us, a campaign that promises to be the most dramatic this country has ever known.
Mr. Willkie has devoted the last four years almost exclusively in preparation for this campaign. He has traveled and talked, talked and traveled, and he has written the biggest-selling book since Gone With the Wind. Never has a man met with greater opposition outside and within his own party. There are those leaders among Republicans who would rather have the party lose than have Mr. Willkie win. They hate Mr. Roosevelt, but they hate Mr. Willkie more.
Meanwhile, Mr. Willkie is pinning his faith and his hope upon the rank and file, the off-the-beaten track, small-town common man.
There is something pathetic to me in Mr. Willkie’s faith that the little man – the little un-unionized, unbossed, unregimented, unsubsidized, unbought American man can help him get to be President! This little man, for the moment, happens to be living in Wisconsin. Mr. Willkie is working very hard in Wisconsin. He is hoping that he wins a vote of confidence there. It will serve as an example to other states and set the pace for independent, uninfluenced moves all along the line.
Moreover, a Willkie victory in Wisconsin, a Midwest state, where Mr. Willkie is supposed to be the weakest, would do much to slap down the isolationist opposition within his own party.
Lantern slides
The best way, it seems to me, for us to choose a candidate for President would be to picture him sitting alone in a little private room face to face with Joseph Stalin in a poker game. What man have we upon whom we could rely to keep up his end in such a game? Let us toy with a few lantern slides.
The first, let us say, is a picture of Stalin and Roosevelt sitting over the game. Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen, upon the outcome of this game. Who do you think would win? Mr. Roosevelt or Mr. Stalin?
Now let us seat Mr. Dewey at the table with Mr. Stalin. How long do you think he would last? He would play a slick game. His plays would be quick and dazzling for he is an adept showman, and could be counted upon to employ an adroit technique. Mr. Kibitzer, how long do you think you would be seated at that table?
Now let us take Mr. Stassen at the table. Mr. Stassen is a realist. He would know what he was up against. He would see in his opponent not a politician nor yet a statesman, but a sharp business competitor. He would play that kind of game. But for how long would he play it, dear reader? Watch the clock.
Supposing we put Gen. MacArthur at the table. His success would depend very largely upon what kind of game his opponent would elect to play. If military strategy were to be employed, the game might last through the night. If, on the other hand, power politics ruled, Gen. MacArthur would be in bed by midnight.
Pull up a chair
Now it is Mr. Willkie’s turn at the table. Better pull up a chair, Mr. Kibitzer. When good fellows get together, they’re apt to take their time. Mr. Stalin’s smile is enigmatic but expensive. Mr. Willkie’s is as sunny as that of a child.
As the game progresses, however, we may look for a slight change in the mien of Stalin. Mr. Stalin knows men like nobody’s business. He has coped with them all from Tōjō to Franklin, from Adolf to sunny Winston.
But in his lexicon, one word has been left out. He should have learned it. It would have served him in this game.
The word is “Hoosier.” Indiana Hoosier. In this game he may learn the meaning of that word.
“Hoosier” is that plus element in a Yankee. It is that added “R” in American. It is that quality that can outsmart, that can out-smile, that can out-believe, and so can outlast, any antagonism. It combines naïveté with complicity; distrust with abounding faith. It is unlickable for the simple reason that it never knows when it’s licked.
Yes, that might be a pretty good game to watch. A game played by two kinds of men – deep-dyed men, shrewd as sin, smart as Satan, deep as the deepest well, and both possessed of vision dazzling as the sun.
Tartar and Hoosier! A good game to watch.