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G - Diary Pages 206 through 225

 

PAGE 206
 

The Washington Merry-Go-Round
By Drew Pearson 

Washington – The other day, this columnist perpetrated on a long-suffering public some of his view regarding surcease from war.  It took the form of a letter to his sister, Mrs. Lockwood Fogg, Jr., congratulating her on the birth of a son.  Since then, many people have written to Mrs. Fogg expressing a gamut of stimulating views which probably represent a cross-section of the American people on the question of birth and war. 

Here are three of the letters – from a soldier, a mother and a grandfather – expressing the hopes and fears with which they view the world of tomorrow.

From a Soldier 

A soldier at Turner Field, Georgia, writes: 

“I too am a little concerned about what the future holds.  At times the shadows are deep and the picture gloomy.  Fortunately, there is always a bright light, dim sometimes, but present. 

“The boys in the service do a little thinking too.  Presently, when casualty lists mount, they will do a lot more.  When they read and think, somber though is put into militant words.  They boys don’t like strikes in wartime – but they like the progressive things for which the strikes thrive.  They like the end, they don’t like the means. 

“Also they don’t like the way things go on in some communities – and Miami Beach is just a sample.  Most of the youth of the world is in the military service of their country.  I have always said – and still maintain that the future of the world will be safe in the hands of youth.  Periodically, it seems, the ardor of youth is curbed by the anguish of war.  But always out of it has come progress and a better world.  I still have confidence in youth. 

“Congratulations on your fine (xxxxxx).” 

A mother in Wisconsin who has given one son to the war expresses a more somber note:

“Have read and reread the letter your brother wrote to you.  Then I sit and stare into space, as no doubt he did before writing it.  He wondered if this is a good world to bring a son into.  That took me back nineteen years, when we welcomed five pounds of babyhood into our home.  The angels must have smiled on him, he was so beautiful.  And I though it was a beautiful world to bring him into, for did not his father go overseas for fourteen months to make the world safe for little boys like ours? 

“I used to watch him kick his feet and wiggle his toes, and I prayed that they would always walk on the right path, but I either did not pray hard enough or long enough, for I did not plan that drilling at Camp Wolters is what a mother calls ‘the right path.’

“While I was busy watching him grow, I failed to watch the man down the street.  He was busy selling tons and tons of scrap iron to Japan, so they could kill little babies like mine.  

“Today – the house is quiet unless you can hear the quiet sobbing of a father and mother.  The trampling of feet you hear in Miami are the heavy boots of my son.  A letter dated Christmas Eve reads:  “Tonight the barracks are very quiet except the scratching of pens.  When I finish writing, I’m going somewhere so I can cry unashamed, becacse I’m so homesick.’ 

“But the man down the street still does not care.  He orders a big steak and then goes to the race track.  When I complain that the only race I’ve ever seen were two horses plowing up a field, that a hundred dollar bill is something banks have in the vaults, he tells me not to expect anything else because there is a war going on. 

“My old pal Uncle Sam seems busy and tired, too.  Just like Mr. Hull.  So I go on praying, praying for one more visit with my son before he goes across.  It’s nine long months since I’ve seen him and I pray hard for just one more visit before he goes to some foreign land to fight a war that was not of his making, and from which he may never return.

“Tonight I’m sitting very quiet, not even praying, for my son is gone.  I feel “let down’ by the big man down the street, by Mr. Hull and my Uncle Sam.  Eventually I’ll turn to my God, but then I’ll add to my prayers that mothers like you will watch dangers to your son other than a cold or measles.  Maybe my letter will depress you.  I hope not, for in my heart is nothing but good for you and your darling son. 

“Writing this is like sitting on a park bench – thinking – thinking.  I look around.  The man next to me looks like Mr. Pearson.  On the end sits Mr. Hull.  At that age, you nod when you feel tired.  Uncle Sam is there too.  He also looks tired.  His should (xxxxx) from a heavy load (xxxxx)

Then we are (xxxxxx) guessed it.  Mr. Big Business just came back from the race track.  His car does a lot of miles on two gallons per week.  I could go on and on, but my son’s face seems to hover before me, and I fold my love around him, for I’ll always be his mother. 

From a Grandfather. 

Finally a grandfather and Spanish War veteran from New Orleans looks down from his vista of age with this philosophic advice: 

“Pardon the temerity of an old man, a very old man, to address you.  It is all the fault of your brother.  He took us into his confidence as he addressed you at the birth of your son.  He counsels you in the words of a benign patriarch – you the mother of children – a faith, a religion, a never-flagging devotion.  He pens a sorry picture of Miami and of Florida, though it be no new theme to us.  How well I remember those desolate sands in the days of ‘Remember the (xxxxxx).  We have come a long way since then, thanks to our versatile adaptability. 

“Pray do not allow Drew to persuade you that this is not time to bring forth a son.  His mood is shadowed by his consorting with diplomats.  Cordell Hull is indeed finished if he thinks in the terms of the four old men of Versailles. 

“But believe me, us old gray dads with grandsons in training and in the fighting will stay squarely with you for bringing in the world another free-born, clear-thinking man son. 

“A respectful, much abash grandfather.”

 

 

External Links referencing newspaper clipping above:

[Biography of Drew Pearson at American University Library]
[Drew Pearson, Journalist at Wikipedia]
[Fort Wolters at Wikipedia]
[Camp Wolters at Global Security]
[Camp Wolters at the Texas Military Forces Museum]
[Camp Wolters at Fort Wolters]
["Scrap Squeeze" by Time Magazine - Oct. 7, 1940]
[Adolf Hitler by Wikipedia]
[Uncle Sam by Wikipedia]
["In Mr. Hull's Office" by Time Magazine - Dec. 15, 1941]
[Cordell Hull by Wikipedia]
["Cornfield Lawyers" by Time Magazine - May 16, 1938]
 


 
PAGE 207
 

FARM BOY GOES TO WAR
By Carol M. Ritchie

Next to the last day he was here
He went off alone for an hour or so –
We had a feeling he would go,
Almost we knew he would disappear. 

There where the pasture meets the wood.
(It was there one day that he saw a deer
Startled and poised for flight, so near –
Almost in reach of his arm it stood).

Later we saw him pause beside
The pine that was home to nested crows
(Once he had tamed one); and now rose
Cawing complaint to the countryside.

Close by the bars his yearling colt
Whickered to answer his well-known call
Learned in the dusky old box-stall,
Then kicked up its heels in a brief revolt

But followed him nuzzling at his hands,
To the barn where bays of new-mown hay
Sweetened the air, and sunshine lay
In rays on the rafters like dim gold bands. 

When he came in, we could tell
But his grave look he had said goodbye
To every outdoor boyhood tie,
And even the wind breathed a low farewell. 

But father and mother the next day
At the hour of parting knew lessened dread:
HERE were his roots; in him, inbred,
All that made sense in a world’s melee.

 

The data below is the text printed on the reverse side of the newspaper clipping shown immediately above.  It is being provided for its historical relevance.

External Link referencing script below:

["New Bully" - Joseph Darnand - by Time Magazine, Feb. 7, 1944]
[Joseph Darnand at Wikipedia]
[American Rescue Activities in Sweden at the Oxford Journals]
[Sweden during WWII on Wikipedia]
[Herschel Johnson on Wikipedia]
 

  Vichy Puts Catholic Group Under Surveillance

Barcelona, April 14 (AP) – Joseph Darnand, secretary general for maintenance on order in the Vichy regime, has put all Catholic youth and other organizations in France under strict police supervision, advices reaching here said today.

Darnand was said to have advised the clergy that henceforth government representatives would attend every religious service.

Reports from France said the action was taken as a result of a meeting in Paris last month of French cardinals and archbishops who condemned Vichy's policy of sending French youths to German labor battalions and persecuting patriots resisting Germans.

The church hierarchy also was said to have attached Vichy's attempts to persuade French women to work in Germany.

 

 

Says Sweden to Say No To Allied Demarche 

Stockholm, April 14 (AP) – The newspaper Aftonbladt expressed the editorial opinion today that Sweden would say no to the (xxxxx) and American demarche asking her to stop exporting ball bearings to Germany.  The editorial said the Allies, as a result, probably would be cuot off safe conduct traffic to Sweden. 

The government made no official statement to the Allied written requested handed to the Foreign Minister by U. S. Minster Herschel V. Johnson and the British minister, V. A. L. Mallett
 


 
PAGE 220
 

July 1938 

Their is no defeat in truth save from within unless we are beaten there, we are bound to win. 

 Gay

 

Aug 1938 

I never tire of the sunset hour.  I think perhaps sunset and sunrise are the loveliest times of the Memories of Childhood and the appreciations of old axioms red in morning sailors warning red at night sailors delight also little girls that like to drive cows and ride horses and ramble in the woods. 

Gay


 
PAGE 221
  Our Farm Home stands beside an old dirt road.  And near the porch we planted fir trees to keep the Christmas spirit with us all the year.  In summer the children padded softly in the dust that rose in tiny founts between their toes.  And in it chicks and ducklings wrote their first crude scralls in clumps of clover and wild rose that grew in deep curves of the roads soft arm.  The songbirds built new nests every spring  And sang glad notes like drops of melted sun.  After a rain the butterflies would wing above the cool, soft mud and a flashing gold and black would light and dip . 

Wrote when I planted the tiny spruce pine 1930.


 
PAGE 225
 

Bibical tradition.  The half starved Habrews remembered the fleshpot the bread and the fish of Egypt.  But hungered for the cubumbers melons the leek onion and garlick, and the same tradition God at the beginning planted a garden Eastward in Eden.  He did not sow a barley field.

 

External Links referencing script above:

[King James Bible - Numbers 11]