 Darring Gene Hersholt as Christopher Ludwig in the Battle of the Ovens, an original radio play on the Cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuFont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Our play tonight on Cavalcade has three central characters. A baker, the American Revolution, and the local dress. The baker's name was Christopher Ludwig. He lived in Philadelphia. He was an elderly man by no means thanks. And yet he is not merely Christopher the baker, but a symbol of all the thousands who made our history and who have not been recognized in our history. Our play, written especially for this program by Arthur Miller, is called The Battle of the Ovens. The DuFont Company presents Gene Hersholt as Christopher Ludwig on the Cavalcade of America. Christopher! Chris! Christopher! Sitting by the open window again. You want to catch your death? Come to bed. It is after midnight. I'd like to sit and watch the soldier boys marching up to war. Every night the same thing, and every morning you complain your back hurts. Come up to bed. Hey, is it such a bad year to be an old man? Listen, you hear? Marching. Young wigs, young budgets marching. Young voices calling commands. Washington says he needs soldiers when they rise and go. Look at me, baking rolls in Philadelphia with such great things happening. And what would be better for a man 61 years old than to bake rolls? To do instead of to watch. I feel like a stone in the river that's rushing over me. I want to move with the time, to march with the young ones too. Why must a man be old when the time is so young? What more can you do, Chris? You said, Jerry, your best apprentice to bake for the army. You are doing two men's work. Jerry, sometimes I feel like Jerry is my son that I sent off. After all, I told him everything he knows about baking bread, didn't I? Only I was wondering if Jerry is drinking warm beer. If that boy drinks warm beer in the army, he will disgrace me. I'll break his neck if you don't... Mr. Ludwig, I am going to bed. Are you coming? I can't sleep, Katie. Listen to the marching. A person would think you were three days in the world. Marching, war, army, that you say. Such craziness I never heard. To be thirty again, even forty. This way is no good. No good at all this way. Is this all? Coming. Jerry. Yes, it's me. How are you, Mr. Ludwig? Jerry, I'm so happy to see you. How are you? What are you doing back in Philadelphia? Mr. Ludwig, I've got a rare piece of business for you. Business for me? I thought you were in the army. I am, but I must be back in camp before dawn. I have a wagon load of flour outside. I want to sell it. Keep, mind you. I can make a good price, mind you. How did you come by a wagon load of flour? Easy. And legal is a shilling. Congress allows a pound ration of flour per soldier, you know. The lads don't know how to make bread, so they give the flour to a comrade to bake. That's me. I'm baking for the company, and... Yes? Well, the way it works is that I give them back a pound loaf for their pound of flour. Naturally, bread needs water and salt and leavening, so that I always have some flour left over for myself. You mean you're stealing flour from the army? Where's the stealing in it? I can't put a pound of flour in a pound loaf of bread, can I? No, but you could make two loaves for house from the same pound. And I could break your neck, Gary, too. Not just a minute, Mr. Ludwig. All these weeks, I sit watching the boys go off to the wharn. I curse my bones for being so old. The only thing that brightens my life is that I know I told a man how to bake an honest loaf of bread and he's baking for the army. And now you come to sell me stolen flour. You common thief. Me and about 500 others. All the bakers are doing it in every regiment. You bandal. You are disgraced wherever you're on his take on the world. Get out. But that flour belongs to me. Let's go in my ear. Take it back just a minute. I'll have you. Don't go. I guess you're just the same old fool. You don't even know there's a war on. What's a war for except to make money? Get out of this house. I'll show you what the war is for. Old man or not, I'll show you pics what this war is for. No, you will not write such a letter, Christopher Ludwig. I will not allow you to do it. Katie, please. I don't know how to write. Sit down, write the letter for me. I will do no such thing. What will become of us? You wrote all your life. You build up the biggest bakery in Philadelphia. And now you want to throw everything away. What will happen to our old age? Our old age would come soon enough without talking about it. Here, take the quill. It is not your place to be a soldier. How could you shoot a gun? Katie, dear, if I cannot fight with a gun, I can fight with my own weapons. Flour and salt. Oh, even General Washington can do that. And I have much to say to him. Much to say. But who will listen to what you say? You are nobody, a baker. So, a baker is not allowed to love liberty? Oh, right. Oh, calm. That's a good woman. Write as follows. Dear General Washington. No. My dear Excellency, General Washington. My dear Excellency. No, no, wait. But... Here. My dear Honorable Excellency, General George Washington, Exquire. A man your age. Sir, I am a baker. But that is a bread, not paste. It is scandalous how these nails are stealing flour from the soldier boys. Why is it your business? Katie, please go on and write. I know you are a busy man. If you would see me a moment, I could tell you what is going on in your army. That is, in the way of bread. Bread, my dear General, is not right. The central question, gentlemen, is the food supply for these two regiments. General Green, would you report on the matter for us? It seems to me, General Washington, that if the third regiment will transfer to Chatham... You come out of there. You can't go in. To me, I mean, and I'll stay in. What is the meaning of this? I beg your pardon, gentlemen. Leave this room at once, please. I couldn't stop him, General Green. He broke past. You were told there's a conference in this room. Get him out. Yes, I come out now. Wait! There's stealing flour from the soldier boys. I know how to stop it. I come all the way from Philadelphia. Let me talk a minute. Leave this room, sir. I'd like to put you under arrest. One moment, General Green. Of course, General. Did you say you've come all the way from Philadelphia to speak to me? Yes, General Washington. I'm a baker. I beg your pardon. I want to help you dry out these... these thieves. Christopher Ludwig is my name. Well, are you the one who wrote me that letter? My wife. But I told her what to say. Please, General, taste this loaf of bread. Fresh. Here, sir. Oh, thank you. Chew it good. There you go. There you go. There you go. Well, you know, my say is very tasty. Did you bake this? I baked it, sir. And I want to say that if our soldier boys had such bread that you would win the war in a month, it's a scandal of their stealing flour, and I won't stand for it. I beg your pardon. I'll bite the necks for you. And here, here, here now. Tell me, what are you supposed to do? I'm a simple man. I speak only straight. I want you to let me be in the Army to look after the baking. Aren't you a little overage for such a task? I have 40 years' experience in baking. Let me take charge of bread. I know I'm nobody, but with bread I'm somebody. Bread is my life. Tell me, Mr. Ludwig, do you honestly think you've been straightening out the baking situation? We couldn't pay you very much, you know? I don't want to pay all. I ask you to trial. Mr. Ludwig, I'll give you a trial. But I must have complete charge. I know bakers. A baker will never listen to advice from another baker. Except pastrymen, of course, but they don't got no mind of their own anyway. Of course, of course. Well, tell me, just what is your point? If I beg your pardon, I would have to have a title. Oh, certainly. How would a director of baking do? That's nice. As far as it goes. But you don't say nothing about the bakers. Better add on superintendent of bakers. And director of baking? If it wouldn't trouble you. It would be absolutely necessary to have the title superintendent of bakers, and director of baking. Is that all? We'll come to think of it. Better add on into Grand Army of the United States. Mr. Ludwig, I appoint you superintendent of bakers, and director of baking in the Grand Army of the United States. General Washington, if I beg your pardon, I... we have won the war. All right, boys, line up here behind the wagon. If the Wilson will hand you your preparation. Hey, Ludwig, the same bread you're handing out, is it? It's bread, it's bread. Eat, you're hungry. Yeah, but not this, hungry. This stuff is no better than mud. Look at it, it's licking. What again? I'll hear no nuns, and take your bread and go eat. Look at it. We can't march a brick in our bellies. What do you want? You don't give me no time to bake a decent loaf. You march, you stop, and quick you want bread. But it needs time to ration. And where's the oven? I'll go back to Philadelphia. Don't you tell me where to go. Shut up, you stupid. I'll bake my bread, and you eat it, and don't tell me what to do. Attention! What's going on here? Well, I was complaining about the bread against General Green. I do my best. Ludwig, I want to speak to you. At ease, men. Wilson could then be giving out the bread. Ludwig, come this way. Ludwig, I do believe you're a good baker and honest man. Well, you stop the flour stealing, prove that. Well, I try, I try my best, but... Yes, I know, I know. Tomorrow at dawn, we start a 40-mile march. The men must have decent bread. Now, what can you do about getting it for them? I have only one idea, General Green. But perhaps you won't commit it. It's something that's never been done. Well, what is it? I tell you, General Green, the army march is too fast to allow the baker's time to put bread together like it ought to be. So, why can't you do this? Give me directions where the army will head for. I'll leave now with my bakers. Get there in good time ahead of you. Set up real ovens in the woods, and by the time the soldiers reach there, I have plenty of good bread waiting. Bakers going ahead of the army. Why are you so uncat honest, Ludwig? That's close to enemy territory up ahead. You're taking your life in your hands. Why? Look, General. If they ask that everybody tells you you are a bad general, you would be willing to take a chance to prove you are a good one, wouldn't you? Yes, I would. Well, I'm a good baker. May I go? Very well, Mr. Ludwig. You may go at once. You are listening to an original radio play starring Jean Herscholt on the Cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company. As our play continues, we find Christopher and his crew of bakers far ahead of the American army about to prepare the dough for a great quantity of bread. Unknown to them, an enemy patrol has been watching their activities for over an hour from a wood close by. All right, Malcolm. Give the signal. We pounce on them now. Are you men ready? I still don't understand this, sir. Don't these Americans realize they're giving away their line of march by sending these bakers ahead? Those bakers might be a decoy, you know. Best to question them anyway. At them now, Malcolm. As you say, sir. Land them up there. Come on, you. Get over here. Keep your hands high. Anybody get away, Malcolm? All accounted for, sir. Now, which of you is in command here? I am. Who are you? I'm Christopher Ludwig, superintendent of bakers and director of baking in the Grand Army of the United States. We are going to win the war. Oh, quite a boy, aren't you, Grandpa? I'm quite a boy, yes. What do you want with Malcolm? Take all these men back to Red Porter. I just want you, Grandpa. And Malcolm, report to Red Porter that a large body of Americans is due here sometime soon. Probably General Green's army. Come on, you bakers. Line up. Forward march. Left. Left. Left. Left. Now, let's hear it, Grandpa. How many tubes are coming this way? Well, oh, come now. Save me the trouble of guessing the amount of dough you've mixed. 80. 100. 200. A thousand. No, 2,000, that's a big department. Oh. Canons? Plenty canons. Quite a system you've gotten up, haven't you? Regular havens. Bakers going ahead of the army. Tell me, you bake a good loaf? I sure do. You do, eh? Strictly in private. Could you knock something together for me? Something tasty? For a lady? What do you say? For a lady? I could make some for you, too. That would be decent of you. Good. I'll sit here and keep an eye on you if you don't mind. Just make yourself comfortable. And I will bake you something that you will never forget. I don't say it won't be that good. I dare say it will. General? Yes? Something white moving in the trees, sir. Straight ahead, you see? Uh, yes. Man, I think. Running, waving at us. I think I recognize him. Oh. What? General. General Green. What are you doing here, Ludwig? Your robins aren't supposed to be anywhere near this vicinity? They captured all the bakers. Don't go any further. They'll trap you. How did you escape? Well, I... I made a little dumbling for a gentleman. I guess it didn't agree with him. But you can't go that way now. They're waiting for you. Yeah, go that way. You have a great talent for taking command, Mr. Ludwig. Get into the ranks and never again let me know. General Green. I have a wonderful idea. I had about enough of your ideas, Ludwig. I was thinking I should run away. Why not send out bakers with enough flour to make five? Ten thousand loaves. Wait a minute. Yes, yes. Ten thousand loaves. Make it fifteen thousand loaves. And not just a few bakers, but forty bakers with me. Fifty. Take fifty. General Green. If I break your pardon, we are both smart fellows. You'd better bend low, sir. We'll be in sight of the top of your theft. Now, look down there. You see? In the corner of the valley. Right beside the turn in the river. By George. They must be expecting a whole army. Fifty bakers if there's one. Eh, but isn't it peculiar that they've returned to almost the exact spotters before? I think it means, sir, that they've really got a major force coming this way. They must figure out an overpower in our ambush. Notice these bakers are very well guarded. Yes. But what they didn't figure out is that we know how to count. Most men here. Right, sir. Have them count the loaves as they come from the ovens. Right. Each loaf is as the soldier expected. We'll have two ready for every one of theirs. I'll get in touch with headquarters. They must send us up another regiment. And watch me, sir. When I get there, that director's supervisor down there. A nice dumpling for you, sir. Blast him. Hurry, hurry. Get a move on, dear Redhead. Come, pull this tray out, Casey. All right. Pull it out. I just put it in. That bread's not hardly warm. Oh, doubt I said, Casey. Be quick about it. You there. Your bread has been in long enough. I left the saint the craziest one. I ever heard of him. Taking bread out of an oven when it's still wet. Mr. Ludwig, nobody's going to eat this stuff. It's not being made for anybody to eat. Not to eat? What else has bread baked for? Strigity, Casey. Strigity. Hey, look up there, Ludwig. What's the matter now? Up there or on top of the hill. Enemy soldiers. Look. They've gone now. No. No, there's more looking down from the other side. Throw all around us. Ludwig, I'm not going to get my head blown off. I'm getting out of here. Wait a minute. Let me explain. We aren't interested in any more of your explanations, Ludwig. Listen to me, Casey. Dragging us out into the woods without any proper guard. And we stand here like idiots, waiting to be picked up with a first-blowman fool who's got an itchy shooting finger. Stop, Casey. I'm going back to civilization. I'm bloody the man as Christ to stop me. I'm a baker, not a walk-in target. Casey, you're winning the battle for Philadelphia. Don't go telling me what to... What's that you said I'm winning? Listen. Listen, all of you. I've just had a message from our patrols. The enemy are drawing rough hundreds of troops to capture the American regiment they think are coming this way. Well, there is no American regiment coming this way. Our troops are heading south. We are tying up thousands of the enemy here. We are soldiers with spoons and ladles. We must go on baking as though our ovens were cannons in our pretty loose bullets. Well, now... Come, we will fight with our trade. Mr. Carson, will you put some more wood on the fire? Thank you. Take me there. Will you stay down that way? I'll back to your work, gentlemen. All right, all right. Get moving, you thick-headed. Can't you hear the man? It's a battle we're fighting, just like he says. Ah, what kind of a battle you call it? Call it the battle of the oven. And if this bread ain't fit for eating, it's fit for throwing. I... I misunderstood you, Ludwig. Why, they ought to be making you a general for this. General? No, no. What would my customers in Philadelphia say? Who would have the nerve to come to a general and ask him for a dozen fresh rolls? No, not general. I gotta make a living when I get home. Hey, D. Christopher. Why are you sitting here in this shop all alone so late at night? Oh, Chris, you are home again. The war is over, Katie. Didn't you hear? Yes, I heard, but I didn't believe. Oh, Chris, I am so glad you have come back. The ovens are cold, three months. The house is cold. Where are the men? They should be working now. I could not pay them. I kept sending you so much money, there was nothing to pay with. They have nothing left, Chris. I had to sell even the linen. I brought you something finer than all the linen in the world. What did you bring? A new free country. Smile to me, Katie. How is your rheumatism? Rheumatism. In a young country, there is no place for rheumatism. Don't you realize I've just come from Token to General Washington? Really? Can you know what he told me? What? He says the bread I baked for him is the first bread he could eat that didn't catch in his teeth. Did he maybe say something about returning you the money you paid for the biggest wages in the army? No, but that doesn't matter. But he said to give his best wishes to you. To me? Give my best wishes to Mrs. Lothric, he said. She is a very good woman to wait for you so long. Me? General Washington said that about me? You, Katie, only you. Well, I always said, Chris, that your place was in the army. After all, it is not every man understands the bakery business like you. Did General Washington say you are brave man, Chris? Oh, yes. He said you shall be proud of yourselves, hm? Yes, Katie. Come, what else did he say? He said he could not have won the war unless the bakers and the shoemakers and older people like us got so mad they could not rest until they won. And what did you say, Christopher? I told him. I said, General Washington, if I bake you pardon, you're perfectly right. Thank you, Gene Hersholt. Ladies and gentlemen, in a few moments we will hear again from our star. But first, our story of chemistry. It is a far cry from the baker friend in tonight's cavalcade to the problem of supplying a modern, mobile armed force with its higher standards of food and service. How would you like to bake bread for 100,000 soldiers at one camp? How would you like to bake in the galley of a sub-chaser making knots in a high sea? Some ships of our Navy do bake at sea. Others stock up with bakery baked loaves before they leave port. And when they cruise for a week or two, keeping the bread is a problem, especially in summer when the damp sea air helps the growth of mold. In hot, humid weather, bread can mold in 36 hours. The DuPont company is now manufacturing a compound that holds back the growth of mold in loaves of bread. It was discovered in a very interesting way. A few years ago, a chemist was struck by the fact that Swiss cheese, compared with other kinds of cheese, was relatively free of mold. Investigating, he found that Swiss cheese had in it almost 1% of a natural substance known as a propionate. It seemed possible that this was what was holding back the mold growth. Since mold grew readily on other types of cheese. Starting at that point, chemists tested one related substance after another, until finally they duplicated in the laboratory the one, a propionate, that would do the job better than anything else. This is the product that is sold today under the trademark Micoban. It retards mold in bread, cakes, butter, cheese, and a number of other foods. Wartime needs are uncovering new uses for DuPont Micoban. For example, a single army camp may bake as many as 25,000 loaves of bread a day. The army has found that under some conditions, of climate for instance, or when the boys are off on maneuvers, bread often turns moldy almost overnight. Army trials have shown that under such conditions, Micoban does an excellent job of safeguarding the bread. This summer, some of the foods in your own home will probably come to you protected by Micoban. In many parts of the country, bakers are making fewer deliveries in the effort to conserve rubber and gasoline. Today, many housewives go to market less frequently and buy food supplies including bread less often. And summer is notoriously the time of year in which the contents of many a bread box have to be wastefully thrown out because they develop ugly patches of mold. More than two billion loaves of bread this year will be protected with DuPont Micoban, thus helping to reduce such waste. And as part of the nation's food conservation program, over 75 million pounds of butter will be wrapped this year in paper impregnated with Micoban. Cheese will be treated too. Not only cheese for home consumption here in the United States, but some of the cheese that goes to England. Before long, Micoban may be used to protect dried fruits. It's already in use today protecting tobacco sent to the tropics where mold is a special problem. War is teaching us as a nation the value of conservation. We may be sure that the conservation habits we are learning today will survive beyond the war into our peacetime future. Micoban will continue to serve that future as one of the DuPont company's better things for better living through chemistry. And now, ladies and gentlemen, we'd like you to meet our star of the evening, Jean Herschel. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Speaking as an actor, it has been a pleasure to portray Christopher Ludwig on Cable K. Tonight. But more important, it has been a great satisfaction to me as an individual. Because to me the humble baker Christopher Ludwig has innumerable counterparts in real life today. In my own native Denmark, among other places. But thousands of my fellow men are valiantly struggling to crush the evil of Nazism. That holds them, I pray, only temporarily in its grasp. Thank you. Next week on Cable K. of America, DuPont will present the first lady of the American theater, Miss Helen Hayes, in an original radio play called The Hymn from the Night. It is a story of Julia Ward Howe who wrote The Battle Hymn of the Republic. Don't forget next week Miss Helen Hayes in The Hymn from the Night. The orchestra and musical score on this program were under the personal direction of Don Burry. Jean Herschel, star of tonight's Cable K. also appears on the screen and the radio as Dr. Christian. This is Clayton Collier sending best wishes from the DuPont company. This program came to you from New York. This is the National Broadcasting Company.