 Proudly, we hail. New York City, where the American stage begins, here is another program with a cast of outstanding players. Public service time has been made available by this station for your Army and your Air Force to bring you this story. As proudly we hail the United States Air Force. Our story is entitled, Robinson Crusoe of Shins Doe. Shins is the name of the Air Force Colonel whose exciting experience prompted this true story. Doe is Korean for island. Hence our gripping tale of Shins Doe. Our story in just a moment, but first, America looks up to her men in the sky. Yes, our country looks up to the young men thundering their way to new glory in the skies. Theirs is a task held in high esteem by the entire nation. You are needed to swell their ranks and can do so by enrolling now in the Aviation Cadet Training Program of the United States Air Force. If you are between the ages of 19 and 26 and a half, have had two or more years of college and are otherwise qualified, visit your nearest United States Army and United States Air Force Recruiting Station and ask about the Aviation Cadet Training Program. Do it today. And now your Army and your Air Force present the proudly we hail production, Robinson Crusoe of Shins Doe. From out of Korea have come tales that make the incredible scene commonplace. This is such a tale. A saga of one man's ordeal. A man whose survival depended on courage, stamina, ingenuity, and luck. Time to hit it, sir. Go away. Yes, sir. As soon as you sign the call sheet, sir. What time is it? Oh, 3.35, sir. Briefing at 04.30. Let me have that thing. Okay. Now will you let me get some rest? Yes, sir. No, Sergeant. What kind of a day is it going to be? Cold, Colonel. Cold and gray. Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? Good morning. Got a busy day ahead. Now, this is the pitch. We assembled... The briefing room crowded and smoke-filled. Macduff the briefing officer with his pointer, shadow enlarged on the map behind him, exaggerating his movements. The pitch is like always. We've got our work cut out for us over a charming piece of real estate called Megali. It's where the commies come bowling down from their sanctuary in the north when we come barreling in to meet them. Whether you get a strike, a spare, or put one down the gutter, it's a mighty busy hunk of sky, especially on that May 1st morning. Great. Coming in at two o'clock. I got him. I got him. There we go. Stay on my tail, Mike. Al, Al, watch it. Two of them coming up under you. Al! With Zack's warning, you'll rack her up and try to pull off to the left. Then, wham, you're hitting there. Hit hard. Al, bail out. Bail out. You're on fire, Al. Get out of it. On fire. Radio out. In a dive. Vertical control going. Bail out. From the frying pan into the fire. You've got to get away from land. Get out to sea. Pour the coal to a man. When the chips are down, you whack fast. By instinct, bail out over enemy territory and your chances aren't worth being. But you use an old trick. Give her the gun, build up enough speed, and she'll bring herself out of the dive. Come on, baby. Pull up. It works. And so, like a pauper, you alternately go climbing and diving away from the mainland out over the sea. But you can't keep it up. Down to 1,500 feet. Flying a fireball. Islands below. Time to hit the silk. Pull ejector. Of a bottle, you go flying head over heels through space. You pull a ripcord on your chute and then you're swinging back and forth as you float down toward the sea in the possible safety of a little new shaped island. Numbly you watch what's left of your ship go diving into the drink. Oh, yesterday. Shut down. Failed out and landed in the water. That's right. Tried to reach the island, but the tide took me out. Fell asleep. The plane flew over, woke me. The flare didn't work. Took the rest of the night to reach shore. Rough night. Must have been kept talking to yourself. Fell asleep. Time to be up and doing. I'm here all alone. You watch the yellow sea beat relentlessly in against the jagged shore. Slapping spray of a barnacle worn boulders. Swishing in and out of rock caves. Above and behind tower the black cliff heights. Leave the raft. Climb the cliffs with the radio. Set it up and call home for a helicopter. This is a nice climb on an empty stomach. Now let's see how this thing works. Perfectly simple. Just plug in the battery. There. Now let her heat up. Get the right frequency. And after half hour of twisting dials, checking tubes, pleading, begging, you realize you aren't going to call anyone on this radio. Stone cold dead. And then it hits you. How long will you... Is this place inhabited? Or by anyone? Is there enough food and water here to live on? All of a sudden you start to shiver. You don't know how much is due to your clothes that are still wet. Or the grim realization that you're in a spot. A bad spot. Well, one thing you can do is build a fire and dry your clothes. As for the others, alright, take it easy. You'll live longer. Must be about noon. No planes. No nothing. Alright, alright. Sometimes that other self can be a pain in the neck. He's always so right. You put on your clothes and of course you do feel better. But you haven't eaten in over 24 hours and you're hungry. So it's time to have a look around. You move out of the little clearing you're in as cautiously and quietly as you can. The underbrush is thick. And in no time you sound like a full-blown herd of elephants under a large head of steam. But then suddenly the underbrush thins. And lo and behold, you're on a trail of some sort. You stop. You hold a conference with your alter ego, that other voice. Well, could be an animal trail. Pretty well overgrown. That branch seems to head back toward the cliffs. Well, I'll take the high road. You're on the overgrown trail slowly. You stop and listen every few feet. Your eyes trying to penetrate the thickets ahead of you. There's no sound. Not even birds. And you can't hear the sea anymore. Only your heart thumping against your chest. Bit by bit you make your way upward and come at last to the brow of the hill. All right now, down in your knees. We crawl from here. No trees ahead. Probably a valley on the other side. I do stop busting in my head. Go away and lie down somewhere. And you sit still for a moment, getting your breath almost afraid to look. The bear went over the mountain and all he saw was another mountain. No reason you shouldn't see, just another hill. You part the underbrush before your face gently and peer out like an actor counting the house. A head and a little below there's a small clearing. And what it holds smacks you in the stomach like a male fist. You are listening to the proudly we hail production Robinson Crusoe of Shins Doe. Our story will continue in just a moment after this important message. America is depending on her leaders in the air. If you are a young man between the ages of 19 and 26 and a half, have had two or more years of college and are otherwise qualified, if you are eligible to join the ranks of America's leaders in the air, you can become an aviation cadet. The defense of our nation hangs heavily on our air strength, the finest in the world, but we cannot relax our efforts. The Air Force still needs pilots and aircraft observers. If you have the primary qualifications, visit your nearest United States Army and United States Air Force recruiting station today. Ask about the aviation cadet training program. Do it now. And now your Army and your Air Force bring you the second act of the proudly we hail production Robinson Crusoe of Shins Doe. With an intangible, taunting, sometimes helpful voice of conscience on a tiny Korean island, Colonel Shins has just parted the underbrush. Appears into a small clearing and sees four of them. Four huts from panic, brother. It's a regular community. It's a hot day. Maybe taking a snooze. Maybe away for the day. Doesn't mean a thing in my book. The commies are messy housekeepers. I plan to, brother, but just don't rush me. Got to get the lay of the land before I move an inch. After a while, you move out slowly, making sure to keep down in the undergrowth. You circle the little clearing. Nothing moves out there. Even the breeze has died. When you get in the rear of the huts, you edge in closer. Then closer. And then with a sigh of relief, you can suddenly tell no one is home. Or has been for some time. The patched roofs are badly rotted. The wall of one hut is about to fall. The weeds are thick. And there's an emptiness to the little settlement that filled you with thankfulness. Yeah, you knew it all the time. I hope I find something to eat. I've got to find something to eat. I wonder if you can eat weeds. You scrounge around like an alley cat in a garbage can. Your hunger has you feeling weak. Depressed. In one of the huts, you find an old tin and some loose kernels of corn. Outside, you find some spring onions. It's not much, but to a starving man, it looks like a feast. You build a fire, you pour the tin with sand, and prepare lunch. The corn is bitter. The onions tasteless. But at your first meal in over 24 hours, and you feel better for it. Wake up, shins. I'm awake. I'm going to take that bale of cotton I found in that hut and make out a big SOS sign in the clearing up on that hill. Easy job plugging that stuff up there. You're so understanding. You spend the rest of the day carrying hunks and wadding it into balls and fashioning letters three feet wide. It's a dandy SOS. Even though you feel like you're broken, you're back to make it. You talk it over with your alter ego. A helicopter will see that with no strain. If one will come, all I have to do is sit tight and wait. Oh look, why don't you get lost? That's a good joke. You sit by a handy work and wait until it gets dark, but no helicopter. No nothing. Finally, you get up and touch down the hill to the lean to you made from one of the huts. And after a meal of corn and onions, you lie down and fall asleep. You're lost somewhere in the dark void of sleep. And the sound penetrates the barriers of your mind. And like a lair so tries to put you back to wakefulness, at first you try to fight it. But as the sound grows stronger, your resistance fades and then suddenly like a diver forcing himself on the surface of the sea, you come awake. And you're on your feet and running flare pistol in your hand, a plane, a plane right over you and low. You pull the trigger and the bright red balls of the player so beautifully and brilliantly into the night sky. They're so bright how could anyone miss them? Hey, hey, you up there, look, will you look? One of the passing plane fades fast. The three red balls of fire wink out and you stand in the darkness empty and alone. The next day you decide to keep a diary. The notebook in your pocket will serve. Each page will mark a day you tell yourself, regardless of what you put on it. 36 pages later you sit in the beat-up old swivel chair you discovered 33 pages ago and read over the record of Al Shin's Robinson Crusoe of Shinsdown. I'll set fire to them if any plane. There's a dandy idea, too. How many times hasn't it worked? Uh, Pete. On what page did I find the village? Oh, yeah, here it is. Found 15 hot settlements. Only inhabitants. Rats. Cleaned out hot and moved in. Biggest find. Food. And a well providing water. You would have starved, brother, if you had a cat and a hill. And don't remind me. Page 20. Tired of you guys not seeing my SOS? Going to build a bigger one. Page 20. What's OS to shreds? That was great. Build another one while the cuckoos laughed at me. Never thought I could work up a hate for a flock of silly birds. That was the understatement of the age. That was the day the boys came swarming all over Shinsdown and mistook me for a native. Well, with these rags it's no wonder. That was the day you thought the helicopter would surely come. Yeah. Yeah, that was the day I nearly went off my rocker. Move. Oh, all right, that's enough. Could caught out of uniform again. They mistook me for a Korean. Can't I do anything right to get a hold of yourself, stupid? Oh, I'm not going to crack up. Not now. These scissors. These rusty old scissors are going to see to that. Well, I should have been a barber. What a crew cut. Hardly any beard at all. Next time they come over, they'll see I'm for real. With my wife Lorraine and the kids could only see me now. And if only I could see them. All right, cut the sob stuff. Get hold of yourself. It's getting dark. You know, every now and then you come up to the kitchen. To bed. Tomorrow's another page. Page 37 in the book of Robinson Crusoe Shins. On a 36th night you fall asleep quickly. Your spirits are up. A rusty pair of scissors did the trick. With them you hacked off the matted mess of your hair and cut your beard down as close as you could. Now asleep you dream of home and peace. And other times that all reality is wiped out in the illusionary film of remembrance. You sleep unknowing and unaware of the stealthy relentless approach of others. That fool he lies there near the fire. A knife would be best. I would be honored. Just watch your feet brother to the ox. They creep up on you like thieves in the night, noiselessly. They speak a tongue you wouldn't understand but their purpose needs no tongue. They're coming for you. And you sleep on easy prey helpless. He sleeps soundly for what? He'll make him sleep sounder. A man can die but once he's still your cuckling old woman. A man must have a seventh sense that never sleeps for suddenly a dream is fade and you lie on the borderline between wakefulness and oblivion. But you don't get the chance to cross over gently. Now quickly as rough hands grab you and drag you awake a piercing ray of white light blinds you. Your hands go to your eyes terror fills you. The voice is behind the lighter gut roll you lie there paralyzed knowing this is the end waiting for the impact of the bullet you. American American officer what? We are friends. We have. And with those words you go limp and suddenly you're laughing and crying at the same time you start to shake and you can't stop it's not the end it's not the end you're saved and you sit there howling like a maniac North Koreans we come north in Sampambod looking for a communist outpost we see your fire we take your cameras we come together well if you shot first and ask questions later oh brother oh no no no no we don't shoot it was knife cuckling old woman he talked too much it's alright let him talk as much as he likes I haven't had anyone to talk to but myself for so long you have been here a long time? yes long time boy long long time when can we leave? sooner better be like soon well what are we waiting for their beat up Sampan makes the Queen Mary look like a scowl to you she bobs on the sea in all her rickety glory and your three grinning rescuers are all princes of the realm for the first time in 37 days you relax as you sail away from Shinsdoe for all time believeably you find yourself at Air Force headquarters in South Korea little more than five hours later there you give your first important order sergeant I'm hungry I can bet sir I'd like to order some food shoot sir shrimp salad oh you better have a stand by on hand too I might find I like it so much I'll have a second two shrimp salads one in the far east I'll see to it myself good french fries by the carload salad eggs coffee and when you put it all away and brother you put it all away you feel almost human so you do something you've been hoping and praying for 37 days you'd get the chance to do you make a call a long distance call to Ottawa Illinois and when you hear a voice you can't talk and then when you manage to say something she can't talk so for a while neither of you make much sense and then finally over it all she shouts where in the world have you been and you what do you say back you say the only really sensible thing a guy could say me I haven't playing Robinson Crusoe without Friday the story you've just heard actually happened to Colonel Albert W. Shinn's United States Air Force jet pilot Robinson Crusoe of Shinn Doe here is a message for the young men listening to this radio program right at this moment America is recording a new history in the skies the men who fly with the United States Air Force are helping to achieve greatness for their country and there is a place for you you can apply now as an aviation cadet in the United States Air Force you can qualify if you are between the ages of 19 and 26 and a half have successfully completed two or more years of college and can measure up to the other required for complete information visit your nearest United States Army and United States Air Force Recruiting Station today ask about the aviation cadet training program this has been another program on proudly we hail presented transcribed in cooperation with this station proudly we hail is produced by the Recruiting Publicity Bureau for the United States Army and United States Air Force Recruiting Service this is Kenneth Banghart speaking and inviting you to tune in this same station next week for another interesting story on proudly we hail