 Suspense, which is usually heard at this hour on Thursday nights, is taking its customary summer holiday. Suspense returns to the air seven weeks from tonight on Thursday, September 1st. You are deep in the remote hill country of Afghan, face to face with the fierce Bataan warriors, trapped into a hopeless fight from which there seems no escape. We offer you escape, designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. Tonight we escape to the north of India, and to a battle long remembered, as Rudyard Kipling described it in his famous story, the drums of the fore and aft. When I came out from England to serve as a newest correspondent with the British troops on the northwest frontier of India, I was attached to a regiment known as the fore and fit. Princess Hoensalan's own royal light infantry, fore and fit. But now, behind their backs, men call them the fore and aft. When certain words are shouted in front of other barracks, the troops may come out with belts and fists, but the mere whisper of fore and aft brings out the men of this regiment with rifles in their hands and murder in their eyes. I think perhaps the story of how the fore and aft got its name may be really more the story of Jakeinn and Piggy Lou. Two of the toughest and most lovable little monsters who ever banged a drum or tutored a fight in a military band. They were both about the same age, with curly hair and the faces of cherubs, and inside were two souls that should have belonged to a pair of devils. I must have seen them before, of course, but the first occasion I can recall was at an informal court the colonel was holding in the orderly room one morning. Piggy and Jakeinn were there, and they were in trouble, as usual. All right, Sergeant, read the charges. Yes, sir. The charge is made by one smithers, a civilian, that while walking back at the bazaar at 6 p.m. last evening, he was set upon without provocation by two drummers from the regimental band known as Jakeinn and Piggy Lou, and by them was beaten into near insensibility. Well, uh, go on, Sergeant. Mr. Smithers states further that he was struck down by the two defendants and while lying on the ground was kicked repeatedly in the face and ribs, escaping with his life only through the timely arrival of a detachment of the guard. That's all, sir. Well, what about it? Jakeinn, Piggy, is this the truth? Oh, yes, sir. We gave him what for, all right. That will do, Piggy. Yes, sir. All right, Sergeant, turn them over to the bandmaster and have him tan their hides. Yes, sir. Come on, you. I'm begging your pardon, sir, but can't we say nothing in our own defence? What if a bloomin' civilian said he'd report you for having a bit of a barny with a friend? Suppose he tried to get money out of you, sir, and then he... That will do, Piggy. You were fighting. Well, only between ourselves, sir. That doesn't count. We can't have no blinkin' civilians interfering with the business of our Majesty's regiment. All right. We forget the birching. But you're both confined to quarters for three days. But, sir... All right. Dismissed. And, uh, throw away that pipe and you get outside, Piggy. You're too young to be smoking. Yes, sir. Come on. I can found it, Kipling. I don't know what to do with the lads. They're not really bad at heart and they've never known any home at the army. Where do they come from, Colonel? Jakein is from some back street in London and Piggy Lou is straight off the Calcutta docks. And in both cases, ancestry unknown. Well, they seem loyal enough to the regiment, at any rate. They are, and loyal to each other in their own way. I'm inclined to think sometimes they've got more real spirit than all these new regulars put together. Um, aren't you a bit overloaded with green troops, Colonel? Overloaded? My dear fellow. 90% of the regiment were in Manchester factories or Lancashire farm six months ago. Can't make a soldier that length of time. Any chance of action very soon? In between ourselves, Kipling. We'll probably move north in about ten days. You all know not to the front, of course. We'll give them a few months to shake down before they go into action. Oh, that's a good idea. Yeah, it's the only thing to do. There's one thing certain. This regiment is not ready for action yet. Only, uh, don't write that back to your paper. But the gods who govern armies seldom choose the wisest plan. On the Afghan border, a large force of Pataan guerrillas began massing near the Kaiba Valley, being held in check temporarily by a regiment of Highlanders and a regiment of native Gurkhas. A week later, the fore and fit, a regiment totally unprepared for action, was ordered to march north, contact the two regiments, and carry out a joint action to disperse the enemy. Parade ground and barracks began to hum with preparations for the coming campaign. Privates walked with a new swiker, and the young officers nearly shot one another at pistol practice. But too piggy and jaky, the excitement was like salt in an open wound, for the band was reduced to twenty men, and the drummer boys were being left behind. Blimey, I won't let him do it to me, jaykin. Me, what's gonna have a career in the army being left behind like an old boot? Oh, why should you worry? Now you can stay here with that blooming girl of yours. Oh, what's a girl when the regiments go into the front? And besides, am I to explain to her about being left behind with the women? What do you have to explain anything to her for? She's only thirteen. I've been telling her I'd get myself a medal when the first campaign came along, and how am I to do it now? I heard in the barracks they're going to take Tom Kidd along. He's to be the bugler. Of course, he's eighteen, though. He may be eighteen, but I can plaster the wall with him any day, and with one hand behind my back. Perhaps we could bash him round a bit. Or just enough so as he can't bugle no more. You could hold his hands, Piggy, and then I'll kick him in the... No, no, no. He still wouldn't take us. Well, reputations ain't what they might be, you know. Oh, well, for myself, I just as leave, stay here and do a bit of loafing. With our own regiment going into action. While I, as leave, have my... Oh, look who's coming. It's the blooming Colonel himself. And so it is all alone. You know, Jack and my boy, I think I'll go and have a little talk with the Colonel. You wait here. Have you gone down with him? Yes, catch my pile. Blimey now, we're in for it again. Begging the Colonel's pardon, sir. What, what the... Well, Piggy, are the drums in revolt? No, sir, I... I'd like the pleasure of a word with you, sir. All right, go ahead and have it. Well, sir, if you thought the world and all of your regiment and it was going off to active service without you, sir, then how'd you feel? I, uh... I... I'm afraid I should feel a bit left out of things. Well, that's how Jaikin and me feels about it, sir. No idea what a campaign can be like, Piggy. Why, you'd flop in your face in the first twenty miles. Oh, no, we wouldn't, sir. We're good at marching. I'll have to tell my girl I'd bring her back a metal. I've just got to go. I see. Uh, think you could pass a fiscal? Not the slightest doubt of it, sir. We're both of us very healthy for our age. All right. I suppose it's unheard of for a regiment on the border to take drummers along on active service. But, uh, if you can pass the medical officer, you can both go along. Oh, lie me! We're going to the front! I mean, thank you, sir. Oh, I mean, Jaikin! Jaikin! Jaikin! The regiment marched out of the station two days later, and all those left behind lined the road that led past the parade ground. The band stood by and played them out, waiting to fall in at the rear of the column. And although Jaikin perspired and beat on his drum manfully to cover up, it was quite evident that Piggy Lou was not with the band. Jaikin kept glancing at the cedar hedge behind him, and I had a pretty good idea why Piggy was being detained. Oh, oh, careful, and take real good care of yourself, Piggy. You're self-venturesome. I worry all the time. It's hard, Chris. I'll grant you. It's hard. But what's it meant to do when this regiment's called on active service now? Yeah. Give us another kiss. Oh, Piggy. That's more like it. If you'd have stayed here like you'd ought to, you could have had as many as you want. If I'd done that, Chris, you wouldn't think anything of me. Like is not, but, well, at least I'd have had you with me, Piggy. And all the thinking in the world ain't like kissing. And all the kissing in the world ain't like having a medal to wear on the front of your coat. I won't care about a medal. Just stay with me, Piggy, darling, and I'll love you true forever. Aren't you going to do that any out, Chris? You said you was. Of course I am, but it'd be lots more comfortable if you stayed here. Don't take on about it, Chris. I'll be coming back and I'll marry you someday, too. I promise. Oh, but when? Years and years, perhaps. You'll be careful, won't you, Piggy? Man has to take his chances in the army, Chris, but if it happens, I'll be thinking of you. Right to the last. Oh, don't talk like that. Oh, now, yeah. Give us a kiss. Piggy, come on over here. We're about to fall in. I've got to go now, Christmas love. Don't you'll be forgetting me. Oh, I won't ever, Piggy. Yeah, I made something for you to take with you. What is it? It's a batten bag. All the regular soldiers carry them. I'll put some of my air in it. It's awful kind of you, Chris. Oh, it ain't made so well, but I didn't want nobody else to help me. Not even Mum. I'll carry it right over my heart so long as I'm alive. Oh, don't say things like that. Piggy, come on. Give us one more kiss now. Can't stay no longer. Oh, Piggy. Goodbye, Chris. Take care of yourself. Goodbye, Piggy. Be careful. I'll be coming round to see you, Christmas love, when I get back from the war. Well, it's about time, and luckily we're not both in trouble. Here, stick this blinking pipe in your ugly mouth and blow on it. Petty coat, chaser. Just bait your drum, soldier, before I decide to beat on your ruddy adabit. Tell the Colonel he can shovel off now. A great hour on CBS Friday Night is this is Broadway. Rising stars bring you their top acts and their problems for the future to Clifton Fadiman, Abe Burrows, and George S. Kaufman, three show business experts ready with advice. Be sure to hear this is Broadway tomorrow night and every Friday night on most of these same CBS stations. And now, we return to the second act of Escape. And tonight's story, here comes of the fore and aft. And so the fore and fit went north to the wards, first by troop train, then on foot, when the last rail had left them with a seven-day route march before they'd reached the front up ahead. And during those seven weary days, the regiment began to crack. The men weren't hardened to the long miles of marching, and they found themselves dead tired before noon of each day. The food was bad and the water was worse. And on the second day, the snipers started in. They would hide in the tumble rocks of the low brown hills beside the road and wait for the column to pass. The first sign of one would be a flash in the puff of smoke, and some man on the long line of march would die without ever seeing the enemy who'd kill him. And even at night, the tired and nerve-shattered men would all rest. If anything, the night hours in the dark tents were a good deal worse than the daylight hours on the dusty road. Oh, shut up, Piggy. I've got to get myself some sleep. As if I ain't march just as far as you have. It's fair killing me. Well, it serves your bloody well right for getting us into this. We could be back in the barracks now, living on the fat of the land. And halfway to becoming musicians like us not. In which case, I'll be sleeping in a regular bed and having some decent grub to eat for once. I'm afraid you're not the army type, Jake, and perhaps I shouldn't have talked my friend, the Colonel, into letting you come... Shut up in there! So I'd have to eat before I come in and take a belt to you. Yes, sir. Yeah. Don't have to go calling a blinking sergeant, sir. That ain't no harm, innit? What's that? Oh, Piggy. That's another one of our centuries got yourself killed out there. Then baton beggars can sneak up in the dark without making a sound. Then they take their bloody long knives and slice a man open his neatish applause. All right! I wonder what they look like, Piggy. These are your pitans. What's it matter when we can't even carry rifles? I ask you now, Jake, and look at this in my hand. A man to get himself a medal when all he's got for a weapon is a blue man's wife. Late afternoon of the seventh day, weary, savage and sick, their uniforms dulled and unclean, the foreign fit rendezvoused with the Highland Regiment. Hey, lads, here comes the new regiment, the foreign fit. The foreign fit, eh? And may I ask what is it their fit for? Some of the men bore wounds and some were stretcher-cases, but the real casualty was the regimental morale. These raw recruits had marched out of their station in the south with the band playing, and somehow they'd imagined they might march gloriously into battle the same way, but no band played when they slugged to a stop at the brigade encampment. Limey! Look at them chaps over there. We're in petty coat. A lot you know. They're islanders, me lad, and I've ever demanded best take no liberties with them. Oh. Well, Piggy, do you think we found the ready war at last? What else? Ain't that the full-blown general over there talking to our colonel? Had a bit of a rough time of it coming down, sir. My men had been rather mauled and no chance for fair return. They only want to go someplace where they can see what's before them. They're ready to recover, but I simply can't spare you just now. Oh, there'll be no need of it, sir, for all we're wanting is one good night rest. I see. Well, you can pitch your camp next to the Highlander's Colonel, and I suggest you call a general inspection before dark. We plan to attack the enemy position at dawn. Very good, sir. So, it's active service you wanted, Piggy, eh? But how much longer do you think they're going to keep us standing here with a bloody daylight barely coming over the hills? Just take a look at them patterns out there on the plain. Must be eight of them to one of us, right down the line. It makes it that much easier to get a medal. Now, how do you hope to get a medal? Maybe you're going to blow their bloody eardrums in with your little fight. More like it. We'll not even have a chance to see how the beggars look. The bend, as you might have heard, is going to wheel and retire when we reach them rocks out there, while the regular soldiers go in and attack the enemy. Which, I might say, is exactly the way I'd planned it myself. I got no fondness for being sliced up like a leg of lamb. Ah, you've got no spirit, Jaikin. Them, as one, spirit can have it. As for me, I... Oh, here we go, Piggy. Right you are, Jaikin. Ready now. Watch yourself now, Jaikin, and step lively. Just keep your eye on me Only someone had blundered, someone had misread an order, and the foreign fit moved out onto the plane to attack the enemy force alone. The foreign fit's moving out. But the clump of rock, the band wheeled and halted and continued to play, while the ranks opened to form a skirmish line and moved slowly ahead. Oh, steady laddies. We have no orders to move out, and therefore we'll stand fast the new. At 500 yards range from the enemy line, the regiment began firing at will. At will and wildly. In a few minutes, they thrown away half of their ammunition and blinded themselves with their own smoke. And farther out on the plane, the Afghan armies took quietly, firing occasional well-aimed bullets into the milling herd of green troops. Suddenly, from the main body of the Afghan troops, a small band of about 50 Pathan warriors charged forward and fell upon the start of Englishmen. These were the Ghazis, the suicide squad. Always thrown out ahead of the Afghan army before any main test of strength. Swinging their long, heavy knives, they struck the close-packed British line. The foreign fit wavered, reeling away from the vicious slashes of the murderous bone-handled knives, rallied for an instant and held, then broke, turned tail and ran. You look at them ladders. They turn and run. I might say they make better speed for the rear than they made to the fore. They're anything but foreign fit now. More like it to call them the fore and aft. It'll take them a long time to live that one down. The fore and aft. The regiment took no thought for the wounded, for the men left behind, nor did they stop until they jammed in the pass that led up to the hill. And the band, too, was carried along with them in their headlong flight. All the band, except two men. Piggy, you think them bloody Pathan beggars can see us hide in here in the rocks? Oh, of course not. Well, I hope you're right. Blumen cowards running away. Now, weren't that a fine way for the British regiment to act? Had we done the same thing, we'd not be left behind here the way we are. Now, what's got into you? You're comfortable, aren't you? I may be comfortable, but I ain't easy in my mind. Ah, put a sock in it. Hey, hey, look. Somebody's dropped the canteen here. Maybe it's got rum in it. Well, now how can you hope to tell by shaking it? In now, keep your dirty hands off it. I'll do the trying it out. Is it, Piggy? Is it? No, it's water. Here, have yourself a free drink on a Majesty drummer, boy. All right, sir. Chakin', look. Them Pathan beggars are starting back for their own lines. Hey, keep your head down. Well, now with the Blumen enemy retiring, perhaps our lads will come out and rescue us. Not them, the bloody cowards. Well, don't they know the Pathan's ain't chasing them no more? They're their own precious skins. Ah, far mo. Maybe we ought to give them a little music, show them it all nice and cosy out here now. What? Do you want us to go and get our blinking self-shot? Oh, they ain't no enemy close by now. Come on, Jake, and take up your bloody plum there. Here, are you positive there was only water in that canteen? Oh, how? So, like it's not sure a coward do, the same as the rest of the regiment. I'll show you who's a coward, Piggy, my boy. Here, take your blooming fife there and stick it in your ugly face. Well, now, so you have got a bitter spirit. Maybe I'll speak to my old friend the Colonel about it. I'll shut up and start blowing. You ready? Ready all? Now. Where is it we're going to march to, Piggy? Back and forth a time or two in full sight. Then we'll wait in the rocks for the battle to stop. Are they watching us? Yeah, they're watching us. Oh, yes, they're watching us all right. Time held still, and even the Afghan snipers forgot their weapons. While two armies watched the tiny red-coated figures marching back and forth on the battlefield alone. And I'll tell you for certain, there's a pair of brave laddies down there. All right, you fleeting collards. Look at them out there. Are them two children the only brave men in the regiment? The men of the fore and aft lifted their heads, fingered their rifles, and stared without moving. And out there on the silent plain, back and forth marched Jacob and Piggy. We've got to play these blooming instruments all day long. Aren't the blighters ever going to come back? Shut up, Jacob. Keep playing. Well, all I might say is, I shouldn't have ever let you talk me into this. I ain't cut out for active service anyway. I should bloody well feel more comfortable if I was back in the barracks. Oh, Jacob. Jacob. I'll show you the fright of you. Two armies saw them die from the snipers' bullets. Two armies and the men of the fore and aft. All right, men of the regiment, what now? Those two at least were brave enough to know how to die. Pig's fan is. This time we attack and there'll be no turning back. Look at them laddies. The fore and aft, they're going back to fight. Aye, look at them run. That's how it should have been done the first time. Aye, laddies, and now is the time for us. Orders or no, here's where we join the fight. Company, prepare to charge. Late afternoons saw the Afghan army wiped out. And the general explained to me how everything had gone according to his plan and how he hoped I'd cable that back to my paper in London right away. I turned and left him then and walked across the silent battlefield, walked out among the silent dead. The two tiny figures lay quite close together, Jacob fallen across his broken drum and Piggy Lou with the pipe still clenched in his dirty fist. A bouge under his tunic caught my eye and I reached in and drew out a button bag, embroidered crudely with the name Chris. My own air inside of it. Right next to my heart, Chris, so long as I'm alive. I thought how Chris would soon forget and how the world's memory is no longer than hers. The sun was sinking away into the west. The button bag in my hand was soaked, damp, and over the left breast of Piggy's grimy uniform, over the pocket where decorations are usually worn, a brighter red stain had spread out through the coarse wool, looking very much like the bright red ribbon that goes with the metal. Escape is produced and directed by Norman MacDonald. Tonight we have presented Drums of the Four and Aft by Rudyard Kipling, adapted for radio by Les Crutchfield. Featured in the cast were Ben Wright as Rudyard Kipling, Hugh Thomas as Piggy Lou, and Terry Kilburn as Jacob with Colleen Collins, Ramsey Hill, Alec Harford, Wilms Herbert and Tudor Owen. Special music arranged and conducted by Wilbur Hatch. Next week you are hanging by your fingertips on the sheer face of a nice cliff, suspended a thousand feet above instant death with your strength running out and with no chance for escape. Next week we bring you an adventure tale, action by C.E. Montague. Be sure to tune in at this same time next week when once again we offer you escape. In just a few minutes, Casey, crime photographer, marks upon another adventure with death. Tonight's adventure is called Crazy Like a Fox. Join crime photographer on most of these same CBS stations. Tiff Corning speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.