 Presenting the gals they left behind, starring Shirley Booth and Helen Claire on The Cavalcade of America sponsored by E.I. DuPont de Nemours and Company of Roamington, Delaware, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Before we begin our play, here's an interesting news note on how chemical science is helping to solve the food shortage problem for animals. Cattle and sheep need a certain amount of protein in their diets just as we do, and protein scares. Now, 262-feet compound containing urea, a product of chemistry, takes the place of its necessary protein and mixed feeds for cattle and sheep. Chemistry is helping to solve this critical wartime feed problem, and so help bring more food to your own table. And now, for our play. This evening the Cavalcade of America turns the spotlight on still another aspect of American life from the summer of 1944. At present our concern is with the home front, which is marching in spirit beside the men who fight. This great army composed of wives, mothers and sweethearts of America's men might well be called an army of occupation, because they are truly occupied with waiting, working, praying for their sons and husbands. It is these women, Cavalcade salutes in the radio adaptation by Edith Summer, of the just published book by Margaret Shea, The Gals They Left Behind, the authentic experiences of two soldiers' wives. The DuPont Company presents Shirley Booth as Joe Sullivan and Helen Clare as Taffy Smiths, in a tribute to the corporal Sullivan's and private Smith's of this war, and more specifically to The Gals They Left Behind. I never thought the old car would make it. Come on, Joe. Let's get out and look at it. Oh, no. This can't be great Aunt Heth's thumb. She didn't like you, maybe, and willed it to you as a kind of a grim joke, maybe. It's funny, Taffy, but it didn't look like this when I was a little girl. Then I thought it was wonderful. It always smelled of gingerbread and piccolilli and geraniums with a little spicy dash of cow and clover floating in from the barn. And now it just smells. It does lurch a bit, doesn't it? Like, Joe, it's a dump. That's what it is. A big, horrible old dump. That's what it is. And that, dear, still is what it was. Of course, I'll write you more when we get settled. But right now, the big news is Taffy and I arrived in House Drops, Maine, this morning, bagging and bagging. Taffy's harmonica included. It's a cinch, darling. Manhattan was never like this. But then you probably felt the same when you and Hank arrived in New Caledonia. It's a far cry from our little apartment on 61st Street, Bill, because, well, you know what I mean. But I couldn't let Taffy know how I felt when she said, Joe, it's a dump. That's what it is. A big, horrible old dump. See here, Taffy Smith. You're homesick for Hank. That's what's the matter with you. And that's all that's the matter. Now, stop crying, because if you don't, well, if you don't, I'm going to start. Hey! What's that? Bird singing. Oh, it's not another human being within miles. Oh! Well, now, you ain't once for courage, are you? Too much city living, I reckon. I take it you're the women folks that's aiming to take over this year, Perkins Place. That's right. And who are you? Either of you, a kin or that hellcat? Certainly not. Which hellcat? Het Perkins. That's which. Old Het kept me in landcourts all the time with them boundaries of her. And if you've got any herb, little lady, you better get stepping back down south where you come from. Yeah. Your name, sir? Ma'am, my name is Hard Clough. I didn't mean to scare you girls, no? Well, you certainly did. Wait a minute. I know I'm a chiral to bring it up, but it occurs to me that you are on our land, Mr. Hard. The name is Mr. Clough. Mr. Clough. And another thing. All right, all right, all right. I don't know, and I couldn't beat nobody that's kin to Old Het. Great old lady she was. She could spit words further than I could spit tobacco. See what I mean? Well, good day to you. Now, if you need anything and you wait long enough, I'll probably be by to help you out sooner or later. Maybe. And by the way, I wouldn't use your well water, was I, you? Eastway is not the way it is. Why not? Got a muskrat into it. A what? Yeah, I throwed it in myself. Well, I didn't know you was coming. Well, what do we do? We can't drink water. It's got a muskrat in it. It's dangerous. We might get hurt. No, ma'am. That muskrat won't hurt you. He's dead. Oh, look, now, Joe, this is insane. We're not here two minutes and already we're poisoned to death by the well water. Joe, let's go back to the New York. Now, wait a minute, ma'am. If you just put the boil to that water, it'll be all right. Might smell a mite, but that ain't gonna hurt you. Just put the boil to it. Well, I guess I'll be going wrong. Goodbye now. Hope you two girls have a nice time here. I don't think you will, but I hope you do. Yeah. Goodbye. Bye. But even so, Bill, we'll make out all right, I think. But, darling, we've got rooms crammed with Boston rockers, old calendars, marble top commodes, and not a sad new bus in sight. These are facts, my darling, not complaints. Oh, I meant to write you such gay dashing letters. I will, tomorrow, Bill, honest. Tonight, I can. Tonight, something's happened to the starch and my stiff upper lip. I miss you, Joe. Yes. Before we went to bed tonight, Taffy and I paid a visit to our well with a pitchfork. Then we buried the muskrat in the front yard. I just thought you'd like to know. Joe. You'll sleep? Uh-oh. Me either. The moon's in my eyes. Well, turn over. It doesn't do any good. Guys, the nights are soft and warm and mellow, and your any hips bed so big that my husband is the biggest, strongest... Oh, at a time like this, being from New England must be a great comfort to you. For heaven's sake. Why? Because you can be so brave about Bill's being off in New Caledonia, 9,545 miles away. Think of something else, Taffy, quick. But I don't want to think of something else. I just want to think about her. Now, Taffy, stop it. You're just being silly. What would Hank think if he knew? He'd love it. Oh, Taffy, for heaven's sake. The trouble with you is you haven't got any heart. I don't think you even care that Bill's a way out fighting the war. I don't think you even miss him. Oh, what's this? What's the matter? Is something in this bag? Yes. Give it to me. No, wait a minute. Why, it's a pipe. A man's pipe. I know. It says it's Bill. Bill? He forgot it when he went away. Well, I know, but... He's always smoking it now. Well, I like to keep it with me. It's sort of a talisman. When I think I can't stand the thought of his being away another minute, well, I just look at the pipe and remember how Bill smiles and how he kissed me and... Taffy Smith, if you laugh or say one word, now come on, Taffy, no more talking. We've got to get sleep. A lot of work to be done tomorrow. Joe, what is it? Would you... Would you mind if we held hands? I know it sounds childish. No. No, I wouldn't mind. Joe? No, Taffy. Bill, it's April 26th now, and already we've got 12 laying hens, a dog, a cow, and a little girl. The dog's Amy, a lovely dog. She's deaf for a thing, but it's all right. She doesn't know it. Now, Eloise, the little girl. Well, that's another proposition. She's nine years old, and her favorite author is Edgar Allen Cole. She's the offspring of Doris and Jake Ware, both overseas. So we have Eloise, who does needlepoint, reads editorials in The Times, and loves to improve people. Best of all, she loves to improve people. But the first thing she said to me was, may I try to do something about your hair someday, Mrs. Sullivan? It's so unfair the way you do it. You see what I mean? But we have a fine time, though. Taffy plays a harmonica, and Eloise helps me feed the chickens and scrub the house. And this summer, we'll be eating our own vegetables and drinking milk from our own cow. Oh, Bill, he's such a lovely cow. Brown and white, and her name's Rosie. Hard-clust bought her over this evening and showed me how to milk her. Tomorrow morning at five, I do it alone. I know just how I'll do it. I'll be calm and efficient. First, I shall gently lead Rosie into the barn. And then... Come on, Rosie. Come on, that's a good cow. That's it. That's the way. Oh, what a fine, beautiful cow. Come on, now, just a little bit more. A little more. What do you mean, just a little bit more? She hadn't moved an inch. Well, I'm trying to make her think she has. Oh, Joe. If your Eloise would stop giggling at me, maybe I could think of something. But as you both just stand there. If it was I, Mrs. Sullivan, I'd offer her something to eat. Seems logical, she'd follow your ban. Eloise, you're terrific. Look, Rosie, you're so nice. Oh, Pip, you ready? Oh, yes, yes, I think so. The three-legged stool, the pale and warm water. Yes, all right now. Quiet, everybody. Eloise, begin. Step in successfully milking a cow is to wash it with warm water. You mean all over? Oh, happy for heaven's sake. Go on, Eloise. The milking has been innovated. Experts now advise you to complete the task within four minutes. This is because of the inactive condition of the fourth minute. Eloise, what do I do right now? For the neophyte, it is advised that the thumb and index finger of each hand be used. A steady pressure is also advised. Now, after that... Tell me that again now, slowly. For the neophyte, it is advised that the thumb and index finger of each hand be used. A steady pressure is also happening. I'm doing it. Nothing's happening. Last night, it worked all right. I don't understand... Oh my gosh, Joe, look at Rosie. She's dying. Just keep calm, Pappy. You've got to keep calm. She's not dying. She's amazing. But you're hiding her. Don't pose so hard. I'm nothing. Am I going too fast for you? Eloise, I'm good. Joe, but don't just stand there. Help me out. Okay. I think she's going to charge us something. Her eyes are red, Joe. Maybe she's part-bull. Pappy, where's your harmonica? Get it out. Hurry. But why? Never mind. Get it out. And play something. Anything. Oh, now look here, Joe. Pappy, this is a matter of life and death. Go on. Play. Well, if you... I think it's working. Come on, Pappy. Go on. Pappy, she's milking. Rosie's milking. What book says? Eloise. Yes. Come here a minute, dear. If anybody had asked me, I could have told them that music had been mesmerized and I could have told them that it was the... Well, forgive me, Eloise, but it seems so darn logical. Come on, Pappy. Lock up the band. You are listening to the gals they left behind, starring Shirley Booth and Helen Clare on The Cavalcade of America, sponsored by E.I. Dupont the Nemours and Company of Wilmington, Delaware, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Joe Sullivan and Taffy Smith, the gals they left behind, have given up New York City for an old farmhouse in Maine. So far, they have learned to cope with chicken, milk a cow, and grow vegetables. As our Cavalcade play continues, Joe and Taffy, played by Shirley Booth and Helen Clare, and their ward for the duration nine-year-old Eloise, prepare to meet the new year and the problems it will undoubtedly bring. Still, it's New Year's Eve. Taffy's over by the stove, playing her harmonica. And I'm trying to put down on paper so it fits. So don't waste your penny on them, dear. They're all yours. We're three lonely old women up here. Eloise, Taffy, and I, but... Well, we've done all right, I guess. Our cellars stocked with food we've grown and canned ourselves. We have 12 hens, a dog, and Rosie the cow is about to have a cast. I don't want you to worry about it, Bill. Everything's fine. Everything's fine, except... it's very lonely for Corporal Sullivan's wife not having Corporal Sullivan. Joe... Joe! What's the matter? Hasn't he come yet? No, not yet. How is she? Oh, she's all right, I guess. So cold, though. It's 30 below. I'm afraid... Don't think of that. Is she comfortable? Would you be? No, of course not. Poor thing. I wish there was done everything we can, Taffy. She's in the backpollet, the warmest room in the house. In the backpollet? But where is it? There upstairs. Oh, I wish hard would come. Everything's ready. I have every penny in the house filled with hot water. I wish he'd come. Don't worry. Did you say you took the hands out of the parlor? Yes, they're up under your bed. Oh, 12? Plus one egg. It was warm in the parlor. That's nice. Where's Eloise? The sleep. And the doll? The sleep with Eloise. Why is it hard? Stop it, Taffy. Oh, Joe, I feel just like it was me having the cave. Taffy, you mustn't get excited. Cows have calves every day. Just remember every cow is somebody's mother. The Lord, you've come. We've been so worried. We... Now, slow down a minute. So the body can get his ulcer off here. Ah, now. Now, what's troubling you, ladies? It's Rosie. What's wrong with Rosie? She's having a calf. Oh, bleeding angels of mercy. I ain't gone and left my childe back at home. But hard, Rosie, having a calf. You don't say. What's all them buckets of water doing on the stove there? What? Well, in the movies they're always... Oh, shit. Don't you laugh at me. You big piece of cheese. How can you stand there being happy and gay when at this very moment our cow hovers between life and death? Oh, life and death, Hogwarts. Listen. Without no help from me, Rosie will produce a full-grown ball. That's the kind of luck you darn poor women have. You two straw heads come up here, not knowing a tadpole from from the hind end of a whale. You plant enough garden for half a county. Now it'll be done if a single cut worm bothered to eat one of your cabbages. Such confounded luck. No rhyme, no reason. But we read books on all those things. Oh, books, books. Well, I bet you a cord of good wood, oak, if you were to feed them hens of yarn, caraway seed, they'd lay loaves of rye bread for you. Sliced and wrapped up in celery fane. Ruff, that's all. It is just plain, simple, unskilled luck. And another thing... Wait a minute. What? Rosie. Oh, yes, we forgot about Ruff. Oh, hurry up hard. Maybe she's right in through here. Well... Hurry. Please, hurry. If anything's happened to her, never. Look at that now. Can you beat it? Two of them. Twin? Twins, isn't it? Wonderful taffy. Rosie's had... Hey, wait a minute. Can a cow have twins? Dear Bill, it's January 13th and our luck, as hard-called it, has run out. And so has taffy. It all started several days ago. It'd been around 40 below ever since the calves came New Year's Eve. And the day before yesterday, we were all in the kitchen when suddenly taffy burst out. So I can't stand it. I can't stand it another day. Cows in the parlor and hens under my bed and the whole world frozen. Joe, I've got to go back to Atlanta. I've simply got to go back to Atlanta. Do you hear me? Joe, do you hear me? Taffy, I need a bucket of water from the well. Will you get it for me? I can't. There's no water in the well. It's ice. Ten solid feet of ice. How can you stake water in the well when it's 40 below? How can you stake... No, taffy. Get a bucket of snow. Didn't you hear what I said? Didn't you? Taffy, I... One bucket, then up. And that was the start. Yesterday, not a word was said. But this morning, taffy turned up all dressed, ready to go out. Joe, I'm sorry. Taffy, don't go. I've got to. I'm sick. I'm really sick, Joe. Sure you expect. You've got a bad case of cracked morale. That's what's the matter with you. But stick around, taffy. It's not a fatal disease. I see no reason for being slippery. I'm not proud of not being able to stand the cold. I took a lot of things in the beginning, if you remember. So many times when I cheered you up. Well, how about a smile for baby now? Joe, you're insufferable. The trouble with you is you like to see people miserable. You like to see them agonized. Tortured people. Wait a minute, taffy. The world is full of people like you. The ones who won't pay the asking price. The ones who want to ban playing while they work. So the novelty's gone from kerosene lamps, hasn't it? The novelty of playing the gay young heroine is departed. All right, go home. Go back to Peach Street Street to the Magnolia Blossom. That's right. Go on. Bill, taffy's been gone for over an hour now. She marched out to the barn with her little bag and her head in the air. And Eloise and I are quite alone. We'll make out all right. I'm pretty sure. After all, I'm strong and healthy and capable. But I'm so lonely. I should be able to manage. The car got stuck. And it did? Down by the bridge. I tried though, Joe. I really tried. I don't want you to think... I know. You cold? Oh, no, I... I... Joe. It's all right, taffy. It's all right. No. No, listen, Joe. I just got frightened in it. Well, I guess I ran for cover. But now, Joe, may I come back? Taffy, you know what I was thinking? It seems to me that we'll want to paint the house in the spring. Don't you think? I was just wondering how a nice, even gray would be. With blue blinds, say. I think that would be very nice. Except... Except what? Well, don't you think a lovely fight with green blinds would be better? White and green? Oh, I think that would be really nice. Oh, I think that would be wonderful, taffy. And then if we have any green left over, we could paint the flower boxes. Yeah, and if we have any green left over, we can paint the flower boxes. And if we have any white left over, we could paint the... You know. Oh, sure, Joe! We can paint that, too! Still, here we'll stay. And we'll keep poking at the fire and following the garden and writing letters. Common, ordinary stuff. It's nothing to shout about. But when the bells ring, all the whistles blow, then your ship comes steaming up the harbor. Soon, my darling, it will be soon. We'll be there in a gay and handsome bonnet. Our arms wide open. And then I'll take you back to Hofstra for a swing in the hammock. And I'll feed you a bowl of raspberry yellow with rosy golden cream. And you'll think, what a lucky girl I've been all along. Hello, darling. You'll be right. I love you, Bill. Joe. Thank you, Shirley Booth and Helen Claire. Now, here is Ted Pearson speaking for the DuPont Company. In the final scene of our cavalcade this evening, the two gals they left behind were planning to paint their farmhouse when spring came. And in real life, that's probably just what they'd do. A clean new coat of paint inside or out does make a house more cheerful. The hardest job of all for the women of America waiting so gallantly for the men to come home is keeping up their own spirits, their own morale. Tathy in our cavalcade play said she liked white paint. The DuPont Company makes a white paint that has special advantages for a farmhouse in Maine or a bungalow in California. It actually cleans itself. Even though this self-cleaning house paint is now available in limited quantities only, we want you to know about this self-cleaning feature. Ordinary white paint gets dull and gray after a while as dust and dirt become embedded in its surface. But as DuPont house paint gets older, it develops a fine, almost invisible, chalky powder on its surface. Dust and dirt, instead of becoming embedded in the paint, rest on the top of this chalky powder. Then along comes a good rainstorm and the powder washes away, carrying the dirt with it. And uncovering a new clean white surface underneath. Your house stays nice and white for a long time, unless of course it's kept from the sun and driving rains by dense shade trees or is located in an extremely sooty industrial community. Constant research has enabled paint manufacturers to supply you with good long-lasting paints in spite of wartime shortages. While DuPont self-cleaning house paint is available in limited quantity only, it still gives you the long-lasting protection and good appearance which won so many friends for it before the war. Back of this accomplishment are the DuPont research chemists and their years of experience in formulating high-quality finishes. They've exposed thousands of painted panels to test them in all kinds of weather. They've painted test houses to find out how these paints stand up in actual use. The good wartime paints offered to you today are the fruit of this research. Typical of the painstaking work that brings you the DuPont company's better things or better living through chemistry. Next Monday evening, Cavalcade presents the story of Canine Joe. Based on factual reports of the part played by dogs in this war, our play is the humofilled account of an unpredictable collie named Joe who gold-breaking training but became a hero in battle. In this evening's Cavalcade cast, Parker Fennelly appeared in the role of Hard and Patsy O'Shea appeared as Eloise. The Cavalcade orchestra and musical score were under the direction of Donald Worries. This is Roland Winters sending best wishes from Cavalcade sponsor E.I. DuPont the Nemoursan Company of Wilmington, Delaware. The Cavalcade of America came to you from New York. It's the National Broadcasting Company.