 Words at War presents a book of war letters. Dear son, I have no way of knowing, as I write this, that you, my yet unborn child, will be a boy. If you turn out to be a little lady, I will cherish you as dearly as I do your mother. But I may never see you. You and I may never talk together as a father and child should. That is why I write you this letter now. The country of which you will soon be a citizen is fighting for its life, and your father is preparing for his share in the combat. We cadets joke and laugh at the dangers ahead, but each of us knows that someday he must face the final fact of death. We do not want to die, but we face death so that you of the future may have a world worthy of our dreams. My faith allows me to look forward to wonderful years ahead that we shall share. If it should be otherwise, then you must dream my dreams. Find the peace, the happiness that I have only touched upon. May my blessing and that of God protect you and keep you, your father. Words at War The national broadcasting company in cooperation with the Council on Books in War Time brings you another in a series of adaptations of war books. Tonight, as America remembers two years of global war, we dramatize for you a group of war letters written by men in the armed forces, letters from the camps and fighting fronts. This is the war as your men see it. The letters are from the recently published volume, a book of war letters edited by Harry E. Mall. Pine Camp, New York, July, 1949, 42. Dear friends, today I am so very happy. Something wonderful has happened, and I feel I must share the great news, share it with all of you who are so kind at the USO camp. On this day, I have realized a great longing. I became an American citizen. I never told you about myself, did I? Well, I came to this country first five years ago as a seaman. I had been all over the world, but when I came to America, I knew at once I wanted to stay. As you know, I am German, but by chance I was born in China, and so when I made my application for citizenship... Sorry, Robert, you can't stay here now. You'll have to go back to your own country and come in on a quota number. But how can our China's at war? Where else have you lived? Well, in Australia for a while. And you should go to Australia and come in on a number from there. So I worked my way back to Australia. It took me nearly two months. And when I went to the American consul in Sydney... You'll have to wait for a number, you know, Roberts. How long? Well, it may be months. And it was many months. But finally, having obtained a number, I sailed for California. I arrived in San Francisco on Columbus Day after a trip completely around the world. I was bursting with excitement. But when the immigration officer looked at my papers, my heart nearly stopped. Sorry, Mr. Roberts, but there's a narrow in your papers here. Narrow? It's just a technicality, but we can't let you through till it's straightened out. But what do I have to do? Well, probably go back to Australia. No. Let's either go back and try all over again or... Don't send me back. Surely there's some other way. Well, you can stay here and appeal your case in Washington. I'll do that. But we'll have to hold you in the meantime, I'm afraid. Hold me in jail? It's called being detained. How long? Maybe months before your case comes up. Well, even then they may decide to deport you after all. I really advise you to go back to Australia. No, no, no. I'm going to be an American citizen. I've been all the way around the world to get in. I've waited months for a quota number. Now I'm not going to give up. Even if they deport me at the end, even if I have to go to jail, I'm not going to give up. You really want your citizenship, don't you? Yes, I do. Well, I'll do my best for you, Roberts. I can't promise anything, but I'll try. And I hope that the cell bars at San Pedro don't dampen your enthusiasm in the meantime. Dampen my enthusiasm? I knew there to do this, the law is the law. And the main thing, I was in America. I could see the bright California sky through the bars. Everyone was nice to me, and I was happy. And then only ten days later, I was called back to the immigration offices. Hello, Mr. Roberts. Good morning, sir. Good news. You're going to be an American. Is it true? Here are your papers. This is your country now. Your country. Do you know what those words can mean the first time they are said to you? I walked out of that room a free man with a boiling emotion in my heart. But my country was in deep trouble. I had to fight for her. I entered the army last February and today, after only five months, I went to a large court room here at Pine Camp. There were many other soldiers. Sven Ericsson, here. Julia Silvio, here. Harkin Pasek, here. Albert Hatta, here. The clerk called our names. We faced the judge. Men from Portugal, Arabia, Ireland, Germany, the Balkans. Men in uniform already defending a country about to adopt them. We faced the colors. It was quiet in the courtroom. Raise your right hands. Repeat with me the oath of allegiance. I hereby declare on oath that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity. As we repeated the oath, our voices seemed to roar in the courtroom as if challenging the world against any attempt to divide us. As we spoke, we knew that for us, Bataan hadn't fallen. That Wake Island will be avenged. That Madrid, Warsaw, Oslo, Rotterdam, Paris, Prague, Belgrade, Brussels, Athens, Nanking and Sebastopol will see the flags of liberty flying again. Purpose of evasion. So help me, God. So help me, God. Men, you're Americans now. Congratulations. I'd like to say just a word more. Not as a judge, but as a father of a soldier. Some of you will see action soon. And you will win. That's all. God bless you and take care of you. Thank you very much. You're going night away, Joe. Where do you go now, buddy? Who, me? I'm going back to the rifle range. What's the matter, you know, go for town and celebrate? Oh, I'm going back and practice some more. Oh, practice today. Sure, I got a job to do. I'm an American. England, December 30th, 1942. Dear mother, dad and gang, though I'm not supposed to tell you where I've been, I think even the hardest of senses would let a guy tell about Christmas Day as I enjoyed it over here. I have to start with Christmas Eve. It was then I opened your various Christmas parcels. Some of the fellows, the rats, were standing around helping them grab it. Hey, lay off, you guys. These are my cookies. Oh, I like chocolates. Hey, Charlie, your mother's a swell cook. Hey, open this one, Charlie. It's small but heavy. Hey, will you look at that? Just what I've been yelling for. What is it? Oh, that's a pocket whetstone. Isn't that swell? My father sent me that. Now I don't care whether I can get new razor blades or not. You better hang on to that, brother, or I'll be swiping it. You can have anything but my whetstone. I'm going to hang on to... come in. Captain Badley, sir, a message from the Colonel. What have I been doing now? Oh, thank you, Corporal, that's all. Hey. What? I'm going to have dinner with the Queen. Huh? He's been out in the sun too long. That's what the note says. Lieutenant Sam Brush and... Me too? Yeah, and I have been chosen as the two American officers to have Christmas dinner with Queen Mary. Wow. It wasn't kidding, Mother and Dad. We really were invited. You know, Mother, you've always told me it was nice to take along some little thing to your hostess. So thanks to your Christmas presents, I was able to put together a small package for the Queen. I admit I hesitated some time over what to put in, and it was hardly a royal-looking parcel, a box-labeled perfection paper clip six gross, but I somehow thought the Queen wouldn't mind. Well, when we got there... Your Majesty, Captain Charles Badley, Lieutenant Sam Brush. Lieutenant Sam Brush. How do you do, Captain Badley, and Lieutenant Brush? I'm very glad to see you. How do you do, Mother? It was very nice of you to come. Nice of... Golly. I think Christmas is the time when we all want to be with our own families, but if we can't, well, the next best thing is to be with someone else's, don't you think? Yes, Your Majesty. My family's broken up by the war too, you know? Oh, yes, I guess that's so. Now, this being Christmas, will you accept a little gift from me? Captain Badley has one for you, and one for you, Lieutenant Brush. Thank you, Your Majesty. Captain Badley, I see you have a package. Could that by any chance be a present for me? Yes, it is, Your Majesty. You laugh, I guess. It isn't really paperclips, but that's the only box I have. Oh, what fun. Let's all open our presents together, shall we? A silver cigarette case. And with your crest on it, Your Majesty. I got a silver pen knife and a pencil. Oh, well, I hang on to these. Oh, Captain Badley, how sweet. You know how we long for chocolates over here. And for soap. Will you tell me what this little thing is? Well, it's a whetstone to sharpen knives and razor blades and things. I thought that maybe down in the kitchen or that maybe the king had a razor... Oh, I'm sure it's the very thing we need. Now, I know these things were in your Christmas boxes from home, and I think it's very generous of you to share them with me. Now, we must join the other guests and go into dinner. Now, Captain Badley, you ought to sit on my left. I would like to hear about America and your family and all the things you do at home. When Lieutenant Brash and I left at midnight, it was as if we'd spent an evening with old friends. It was grand. Must close now. Hope you're all well. Love, Charlie. Island Base Hospital, South Pacific, December 18th, 1942. Dear mother and dad, how's things with you? I'm here in the hospital, as you know. I'll be here about eight more weeks and then receive a medical discharge. This doesn't mean I've lost any part of my body, so don't jump to any conclusions. This is something a little different from that. Another marine and myself got lost in the jungle one day soon after we arrived on Guadalcanal. It was so dense in spots we couldn't see five feet ahead of us. Tiny patches of sky showed once in a while. Crocs and six-foot lizards slipped quickly into invisible swamps as we approached. We stole through the vines like jungle cats. At every step we expected to be sniped at. Each shadow on each tree held the chance of sudden death and the heat and the thirst exhausted us. We met poisonous coral snakes. They're going to become almost impossible. We didn't dare talk or make a sound. We hadn't gone far when Sam grabbed my arm and pointed to the bush. We peered through the vines. Five Jap snipers lay almost concealed near the mouth of a river. It was probably an infiltration threatening our airport. They had not seen us. We slipped the safety off our rifles. As we shot 10,000 parrots in La Clause, started screaming in fright at the sudden outcomes. We stood there surrounded by the dim of those parrots. Oh, it was terrifying. After the parrots subsided, we entered the area carefully. The Japs were all dead. We started out again. Later I heard my first thousand pound bomb falling with a gigantic hiss. I was paralyzed. It sounded as if hell was opening up to swallow us for what we had just done. The bomb exploded 75 yards away. We were thrown to the ground and bounced around until I thought I was dead. I learned then how cheap life is. Now we take it for granted. So quickly and brutally it's taken away. Let me tell you that sudden death is horrible and absolutely inglorious. Many times since then I felt sure I was breathing my last. On the target of 100 air raids with no shelter, flying hole days and fox holes, the platoon pinned down by snipers. Well, you keep asking me so I'll tell you. I've been shell-shocked and bomb-shocked. My memories very dim about my civilian days. They feel that sudden shock now would affect my sanity. It's difficult to explain. My thoughts are so disconnected. Of course I'm not insane, but the sudden beat of a drum or any sharp resin noise has a nerve-ripping effect. Well, let's not think. I'll just be happy that we'll all be together soon. Loads and loads of love, John. P.S. I've got a few medals coming, but then so's my whole company. Every one of them deserves it. Somewhere in China, November 1942. Dear mother, we took off from our base early one morning in a flight of six P-40s. After raiding Hong Kong on our way back, I got into trouble. My engine began to run very rough. When I slowed down to save it, some zeros caught up to me. Well, I shook them off, but I knew I was gonna have to land. I was losing altitude. Couldn't see any level ground except a very small field. I made my approach, got my sheets and flaps down, and then just... When I came to, I was hanging head down in the cockpit. Well, I loosened my safety belt and looked out. There's a group of people that are very short in stature, and they were standing about the plane. I couldn't tell at first whether they were Chinese or Japanese. I broke the glass of the hood with my automatic and crawled out with my gun in my hand. I showed them a Chinese flag. I said I was an American ally fighting for China. Then all of a sudden, it began to pile grass and shrubs all over my ship, talking excitedly all the time. Presently, a jab-zero came over. Man, that ship passed by without even seeing us. Well, you talk about hospitality. There was a man, Wang Wang Hai, a teacher in the next town. How do you do? Hai. I have been brought here to you because I'm the only one in this region who speaks English. Well, I'm sure glad you came. The people here have never seen a white man before. Well, Mr. Wang, they've certainly been good to me. Put me up in the mayor's house, fed me, doctored me, and showed me around, and say that temple they've got. Man, that's beautiful. My own Jewish synagogue in South Carolina can't even compare with it. Thank you very much. I have been asked to guide you back to your base. It will take five days over those mountains. But before you go, the people here would like you to make speech. Speech? But they wouldn't understand me. No matter. Tomorrow they will meet in the park. In the park? Yes. But Mr. Wang, how many people are going to be... About 15,000. Would you also please sing American song? Huh? Just a moment, friends. I know you can't understand what I say, but just the same, I want to say how grateful I am for what you've done for me. Now, Mr. Wang here says you want to hear an American song. Well, I'm not much of that song. Well, if you can stand it, I can. Now, let me see. I'm a rambling wreck from Georgia Taken, a hell of an engineer, a rambling wreck, a rambling wreck, a hell of a... Mr. Wang, I can't say that. They like it. More peace. More peace. All right. All right. I know what I'm going to sing. I'm going to sing a good old American song called Over There. Over There. Over There. Send the word. Send the word. Over There. That the yanks are coming. The yanks are coming. The yanks are coming everywhere. Over There. Da, da, da, da, da, da. We're coming, oh. And we won't come back till it's over, over there. Mr. Wang, you can tell them that's an American song. It says we're not going to stop fighting till the enemy is beaten once and for all. Please tell them that your American friend is being countered. Your enemy will not defeat you. We won't give a damn. Please tell them the story of motion. Tell a story? What do you mean, tell a story to thousands of people? Please, one story, please. All right. Mr. Wang. That's the way you want it. That's what you gotta have. Oh, I don't know any stories. Yeah, Mr. Wang, I guess I do know a story. Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Little Red Riding Hood, and one day her mother said to her, Little Red Riding Hood, I want you to go see her. The short stature of these people gave me an odd sense as I stood there being a giant. Maybe this made me feel paternal. Anyway, mother, in front of those 15,000 people, I told the story of Little Red Riding Hood. It was translated, and they enjoyed it immensely. Love, Morton. Corregidor, May 6th, 1942. They are not yet near. We've got about 55 minutes, and I feel sick at my stomach. I'm really low down. They're around us now, smashing rifles. They bring in the wounded every minute. We'll be waiting for you guys to help. This is the only thing, I guess, that can be done. General Wainwright is the right guy, and we're willing to go on for him. The shells were dropping all night faster than hell. Terrific. Too much for guys to take. Enemy, heavy cross-shelling, and bombing. They've got us all around them from skies. From here, it looks like firing ceased on both sides. Men here all feeling bad because of terrific nervous strain at the siege. Corregidor used to be a nice place, but it's haunted now. Withstood a terrific pounding. Just made broadcast to Manila to arrange meeting for surrender. Talk made by General Beebe. I can't say much. I can hardly think. Can't think at all. Say, I have 60 pesos you can have for this weekend. Jig is up. Everyone's falling like a baby. The piling dead and wounded in our tunnel. Arms weak from pounding key. Long hours. No rest. Short rations. I know now how a mouse feels. Caught in a trap. Waiting for guys to come along. Finish it. Got a treat. Can pineapple. Opening it with single-core knife. My name, Irving Strobing. Get this to my mother. Mrs. Minnie Strobing. 605 Barbie Street, Brooklyn, New York. They're to get along okay. Get in touch with them as soon as possible. Message. My love to Pa, Joe, Sue, Mack, Carrie, Joy and Paul. Also to all family and friends. God bless them all. Hope they be there when I come home. My love to all. God bless you and keep you. Love. Sign my name. Tell mother how you heard from me. Stand by. Strobing. The last message received from Correcador. Words at War concludes its Pearl Harbor Day program. Based on the recently published volume, A Book of War Letters. A compilation of actual letters from all fronts of this global war. A Book of War Letters is edited by Harry E. Mall. The audio adaptation was by Nora Sterling. The cast included Carl Emory, William Malton, John Griggs, Bartlett Robinson, Alan Devitt, Cherry Hardy, Joseph Julian, Red Evans, Larry Haynes, and Mr. Ren Ying-Yen. The music was adapted and played by William H. Meeder. The production was under the direction of Anton M. Leeder. Next week, Words at War will bring you an adaptation of Mother America, written by Colonel Romulo. Words at War is brought to you in cooperation with the Council on Books and Wartime by the National Broadcasting Company and the Independent Radio Stations associated with the NBC Network. Jack Costello speaking, this program came to you from New York. This is the National Broadcasting Company.