 starring Claude Reign, then soldier of a free press, an original radio play on the cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company. This summer Winston Churchill said, quote, there has never been a war where so much liberty has been given to war correspondents. They have been allowed to take their chance of being killed and to send home very full messages. This is what the press has always asked for and this is what they got. End quote. No greater tribute could be paid to the freedom of the press, for only with a free press could war correspondents be expected to bring to their readers the news of this global war. Winston Churchill's words were indirectly a tribute to Richard Harding Davis, for it was the career of this first great war correspondent that helped make the world realize the urgency of getting war news direct from fighting fronts. Tonight with Claude Reigns in the title role, the cavalcade of America presents soldier of a free press, a new radio play based on the career of Richard Harding Davis, soldier of a free press. Born in the Civil War year 1864, under a star that was red with blood. In his career as a newspaper man, he was to cover many great events, the Johnstown flood, the coronation of a Russian Tsar, the diamond jubilee of Queen Victoria. But the fame of Richard Harding Davis is built on the world's wars and it began in 1897 when he was assigned to report the attempt of the Cuban people to overthrow the yoke of the Spanish Act controversy. But it was no easy job getting news in Havana. Yeah, what are you up to, Nick? Sending a cable back to New York. As usual, nothing happened in Cuba today except for the brutal and barbaric unit of nature, Zion, Richard Harding Davis. I'm getting fed up with thoughts. Sit back, relax, Nick. Look out on a Prado. Got a sunburn. Life is very pleasant down here. Very pleasant. The nearest you've gotten the alleged war is to hear those poor devils being shot by a firing squad. Back at the Cabana Fortress. And we'll say I haven't your scruples. I just soon take what the Spanish officers tell us is happening. The war correspondence should correspond to our war. What can I do? You know, wireless, give me a pass. There's no place for it to get me to. Señoras, por favor. Ah, well, Lieutenant Montage, isn't it? Si, señor. What's the word on the war today, Lieutenant? You are Richard Harding Davis, señoras. Yes, I am. General Wilder has sent me. Your request to see an action at first hand has been granted, señor. Really? If you will present yourself at the Cabana Fortress and dawn tomorrow, señor, you will be conducted to defeat. Now that's more like it. Now we're talking. I'll be there, Lieutenant. Complete with field glasses. Lieutenant, you spoke of an engagement. Yes, yes, but the Spanish soldier does not fight with this rabble. What you are about to witness, señor Davis, is a more usual event. The execution of one of the rapes. That boy? Why, he's not old enough to smoke that cigarette. Why is he to be shot? As a matter of fact, I do not know. And I do not care. What's his name? His name? What does it matter? Rodriguez, I think. Listo! Iracula! Abundante! Iracula! You would like to take a look at the body? It's a cigarette. Still this? Yeah, the boy's dead all right. He's left a little flame burning. A little flame. Still alive in the close presence of death. Richard Harding Davis sensed here might be the spark that someday would light the powder keg which would liberate Cuba. But before the smoke of the firing squad powder was fairly out of his nostrils, he was off halfway around the world for his next war assignment in the Balkans. The campaign ribbons were beginning to line up on his military jacket. Then home, where he began reaching new heights as one of America's foremost journalists. When, one gray morning clattering over the telegraph, came the electrifying news, US battleship Maine sunk in Havana Harbor. Davis caught the first train for Tampa, Florida, where he waited for the chance to get across to the island with the soldiers. So, you're here, are you, Davis? Well, I guess we can start the war on earnest now. Teddy Roosevelt. Oh, no, well, wait, wait, wait. You tenant Colonel Roosevelt, isn't it? I heard you were getting together a troop of irregulars. Don't snare at the rough, right, is there? It's an outfit of soldiers. By the way, what are you doing here with all the ordinary newspaper man? At last, I heard you were watching this war from the bridge of Admiral Samson's flagship. Well, sir, I was. It was too much like reporting the burning of the wall of authority from Brooklyn Bridge. Wanna get closer to the fighting, do you? Aren't you afraid you're going to dirty your fine clothes? You forget, Colonel, I have campaigned in two wars already. Wars? You call those comic opera squabbles wars? Well, maybe as far as your newspapers are concerned, they were wars. All I can say is you'd better not get too close to the real thing. General Chapter, I see that the order for disembarkation directs for none, but fighting men be allowed in the boats of the first landing party. What about it? But, sir, this will keep the reporters back. Mr. Davis, you're getting observant. Look, we should be permitted to be right in the thick of things, sir. Mr. Davis, will you please allow me as commanding officer of this expedition to run at as I say fit? If the Spaniards oppose our landing, I shall need every rifle I can get ashore to hold the beach. There's no room for reporters. But, General, I'm a special commander. I don't give a hang what you are. You're all to go ashore after the beach has been taken. He's into the troops that are going to see action at your rough ride. Am I with you? You've been in this country before, haven't you? Well, walk along with me and tell me something about it. You should be useful to fast, at least. Yes, sir, General Wood. I'm going to deploy the troops. I don't like the feel of marching through this jungle in close order. Our landing was so easy, I suspect a trap. Will you take charge with me? Down! I'm going to tell some sharp people where they are. You feel better about it. How's that? Thanks, sir. You take it easy. Take it easy. Say, you won't need this gun for a bit. Let me have it. Dr. Jether, rules for non-combatants, sir. That's not why I sent for you. I sent for you to apologize, sir, for what I said to you a month ago in Tampa. There was no man in the regiment who was more helpful to us on this day. No one who showed more courage. I did what I could, sir. They were suited to spend a job. I want to offer you a commission as a regular officer and the Rough Riders. I'm deeply appreciative, Colonel. But I don't think I can accept it. Nonsense. I'm a reporter and I'm proud of my job, Colonel, just as I'm sure you are of yours. That's the reason I can't accept your offer. Not really, sir. As long as I live, nothing will give me greater satisfaction than to know that I was with you and the Rough Riders at San Juan Hill. Two more campaign ribbons on Richard Harding Davis' military jacket. One for the Spanish-American War and one for the Boer War. The century had turned and still he followed the destiny of the blood-red star under which he'd been born. Assignment in Manchuria, the war between Russia and Japan, and for months, he tried to make the sly, elusive Japanese, allow him to get close enough to the fighting so that he could report it. Major Jocky. Yes, Mr. Davis? Have to be sent halfway around the world to cover this war of yours with Russia. I've been kept cool in my heels for months. Now you give me permission to come here to Manchuria. Why don't you let me through to the front to see this war of yours? So sorry, Mr. Davis, but there is nothing to say at this time. Why can't you give us permission to go to the front and find that out for ourselves? When there is something to report, you will be given permission to go. I promise you, Mr. Davis. When will you know? Very soon now. So sorry, you must wait. Major, let me ask you this. According to my information, things are shaping up for a battle at Lear Yang. Lear Yang? Yeah. I tell you, it looks like a major battle, the biggest engagement of the whole war. How about giving me a pass to watch that battle? Unfortunately, there is not and there will not be a battle at Lear Yang. The Russians withdrew immediately. The Mikado's troops took possession without a struggle. Without a struggle? No shot was fired. But that's the only precedent to make a stand between here and... I am very sorry, Mr. Davis. Well, they've given up Lear Yang without a fight this war is as good as over. That is true, Mr. Davis. I see. Well, in that event, I can't say I'm doing it with sorrow. I'm going to say goodbye to you, Major Yataki. And I'd be very grateful if we could arrange to get me transportation to the China coast. To the Chinese telegraph agency? Yes, sir. Good. There's no sign outside. I want to file a press dispatch. Are you our war correspondent? Uh-huh. I don't feel much like one at the moment. I must congratulate you. What for? Well, sir, you are the first to reach this office with the news of the Great Battle of Lear Yang. What are you talking about? The Major from the Japanese War Office told me there was no battle. They have been fighting for six days. I can give you many details of the battle. Why should you do that for me? I am Chinese. The battle at Lear Yang goes badly for the Japanese. I am happy to send such a cable. You are listening to Claude Reigns in Soldier of a Free Press. A new radio play on the cavalcade of America brought to you by DuPont. Makers of better things for better living through chemistry. As our play continues, Richard Harding Davis, played by Claude Reigns, has two more campaign ribbons on his military blouse. Still, he is the reporter of the world's wars. But all his previous assignments were simply the rehearsals for the assignment he was given in August 1914. At 11 o'clock this morning, I watched the city of Brussels occupied by the German army. Behind them, so close upon each other that across from one sidewalk to the other was impossible. Came the U-lah, infantry, and the guns. No longer was it regimental men marching, but something uncanny, inhuman. A force of nature like a landslide, a tidal wave, or lava sweeping down a mountain. It was not a reserve, but mysterious. It carried all the mystery and menace of a fove rolling toward you across the sea. For three days and three nights it roared and rumbled, a cataract of molten lead. To perfect its monstrous engine, to guide it, the minds of the German Emperor's military autocracy, with whom it is a religion and a disease, had been solely concerned for years. It is perhaps the most efficient organization of modern times. And its only purpose is death. There's nothing more to your story. No, Mr. Daddy, though. My husband and all my children, they are vanish. I have not seen them. Everybody! Pardon me. Good-bye to all the passports. French. Wimpy. Neil, let me see your passports. How the Dickens and the Germans get here? I thought you were miles back. Sixth-side army has occupied all this territory. Your passport. Here. An American citizen. You're alive. It's a British passport. You come with me. I'm not British. I'm an American correspondent. Just as I might be. You are under arrest. You come with me. Then, Mr. Davis, I demand that you release me at once. I'm Richard Harding Davis, an American citizen in a war correspondent. You have memorized the facts on your passport very credibly. Do you think I'm lying? What do you take me for? You are an English officer out of uniform. You've been taken inside our lines. You've been following the movements of our army for the last six days. I followed your army because it's my business to follow armies. That, my dear British officer, is evident. Look here, you've got to believe me. All you need to do is to call the American ambassador. Why should I believe you? Your German pass has not been signed on this stamp. It's probably forged. Your American passport was issued not in Washington, but in London. The photograph of you in this passport shows you wearing a British uniform. Oh, I can explain that. The uniform was modeled on one wall by the West African Field Force during the Boer War. You expect me to believe that since then the British Army has, by a wild coincidence, decided to copy that precise uniform? Listen, if you can invent an explanation for the uniform as quickly as I told you of that one, standing in this room before eight officers who want to shoot me, you'd be the greatest general in Germany. Very well then. Let's just pretend that the entire British Army has changed its uniform to match yours. But, if you are not an officer, why does that photograph show you're wearing war ribbons? Those ribbons prove me a correspondent. Only a war correspondent could have been in so many wars in which his own country was not engaged. Or a military attaché? All right. I'll make just one final suggestion. Will you give me a pass back to Brussels? A pass which says that I am to be treated as a spy and shot on sight. If I found off the direct road to Brussels, or if I fail to make the 50 miles in 48 hours. Very pretty. My suggestion. It's now four o'clock in the afternoon. I would accept your proposal, Mr. Davis, on condition that you start at three o'clock in the morning. Three in the morning? Well, the first German sentries told me would shoot me on sight, as that are. Those are my terms. Why don't you take me out and shoot me now? Your own idea will save us the trouble, Mr. Davis. Hey, Jim. Have you seen Dick Davis? No, I haven't seen him for days. I thought he went out. Yeah, he did. But I imagine he'd been back by now. And we're sure I'd find him over here at the American Legation. All right. Hello, Joe. Davis. Wow. What in the name of all this holy view been through? Look at your clothes. You heard me? It looked like you've been fighting the whole German Army. Well, you're not far from right. You picked me up in New Jersey being a bitter spy. Well, let me go. I was sure that some sentry was going to shoot me. You know, I didn't know how I managed to get through. Well, Dick, you got here just in time. For what? Some Belgian peasants shot up a patrol of Germans near Levain this morning. Germans have announced they're going to take reprisals. What's that? Who's the general in command? Von Ludwig. He's over at the Grand Hotel now. Hey, where are you going? What do you think? Leave Von Ludwig. Where are you taking these civilians? They're going to be shot. Get out of my way. Dick, come on, you fool. They're arresting you. Yeah, Bill... Come on. There's Von Ludwig's now. That car there. Get on Von Ludwig. Now the American correspondent, I've come to beg you to... I have no time to talk to you. The city will be in flames in a few minutes. Why do you allow this outrage against civilization? I allowed it. I ordered it. Fifty of my soldiers were shot from ambush. In reprisal, we give the Belgians fine treatment. They understand. But Levain has a captive defense in this town. This is co-blooded murder. General, it's the it's it's a violation of every precept of humanity and civilization. Mr. Davis. Civilization, as you call it, is dead. You are a journalist, Mr. Davis. I am a soldier. Price and tell your civilized world that the German army is smithing a new kind of civilization. Are you all right about one thing, General? I am a journalist. And it shows there's a heaven above us. Americans will read my story of this atrocity and rise up against you. I'll write my story, General. And you and your devil-infected legions will get your due, I promise you that. The right of the German danger that lay before his country in 1916 was not enough for Davis. He returned home filled with horror and foreboding to devote all his time and energy to the cause he believed in, so sincere. In his home near New York in April 1916, his wife finds him writing late at night. Checker, you still working? Ah, I've been finished in a few minutes, yeah. Oh, but Dick, can't it wait until tomorrow? You've been working too hard, much too hard. I'm worried about you. I know. You can't wait. Too much to do. I've got a long report of this, eh? I've got more to do than just tell the story. I've got to point it. You know, never before in all my life have I felt too charged with great responsibility. But, darling, it can wait until tomorrow. No, it is waiting until tomorrow in Europe. The Germans are on a rampage and America's got to be warned. This is our fight, they say. No one will see it. The boy to a trade dispute over there, he came to us. Our liberties. You and me. And the rest of the world will oppose them. Listen, Bessie, this is the purpose of the book. That the allies succeed, should be the hope and prayer of every American. The fight they are waging is for the things every American is supposed to hold most high and most dear. They are fighting his fight. And this fight is all part of a greatest struggle which will end for all time frightfulness and despotism and win abroad as civilization and noble of freedom and a much more pleasant world in which to live. The appeal Richard Harding Davis wrote that night of 1916 was the last weapon of words he would support. For that night he died. But the tradition he created as a war correspondent lives on. The tradition of that group of correspondents who today are present on every battle scene as the eyes of the world permitting nothing to stand in their way of getting the news for Americans at home. Such is the heritage of Richard Harding Davis. First, last and always a true soldier of the press. A free press. Quick the cavalcade players will present ego for Britain an exciting dramatization of the flight of an American bomber across the Atlantic Ocean on its way to the battle front. It's the story of a typical flight of a flying crew of the Air Transport Command whose pledge is the ship must be delivered. With us we will have a pilot of the ferry command as guests on the program. The orchestra and the original score tonight were under the personal direction of Don Burry. This is Clayton Collier sending best wishes from our sponsor the DuPont Company. This program came to you from New York. This is the National Broadcasting Company.