 Family Theater presents Rod O'Connor and Barbara Rush from Hollywood, the mutual network in cooperation with Family Theater presents the Hand of San Pierre, featuring Barbara Rush as Nana. To introduce the drama, here is your host, Rod O'Connor. Thank you, Tony LaFranco. Family Theater's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we're to win the peace for ourselves, peace for our families, and peace for the world. Family Theater urges you to pray, pray together as a family. And now to our drama, the Hand of San Pierre, which features Barbara Rush as Nana. Farmhouse about a kilometer down the road. Joe Smith. Smith? You're next. Next farmhouse is your billet. Get yourself together. You got five days, no more, no less. Okay, Sarge. All right, here it is coming up. They call this here a farm? Stay put, Smith, till I make sure this is the place. Pardon? Oh, is this the Colbert farm? You got your papers? I'll get them here. Hey, there's a well. I'm going to fill my canteen. Headquarters, base sections, zone of communications, authorization for one. Where the devil is it saying? Oh, yeah. The Hand of San Pierre? Why the devil don't you watch it? Oh, what's made of Trudeau canteen, Sarge? Well, I couldn't see in the dark. Farge. Here's your papers, Pop. They're okay. Smith? Right here, Sarge. Oh, I didn't see in the dark. He got your duffel? Right here. Okay, we'll pick you up in five days. Here's your pigeon, Mr. Colbert. Okay, roll it. He's where he's here. I will show you where you were asleep. I am coming to bed. The American is in his room? In his room. In his bed? Yes, in his bed. And now let us sleep, Marie. Sleep? How can you sleep with such a one under the same roof? It was not he who broke it. It was broken by them. It was so small, hardly a square of glass more than 12 inches. It was the Hand of San Pierre in beautiful blue and red. Oh, so this salesman from Paris told you? It was. Shall we not go to sleep? You will feel another way tomorrow. Perhaps we will have no tomorrow with this one here. Marie. I shall sleep with one night open. As you like. And tomorrow night two eyes open. What is so important about tomorrow? Nana comes home from Avrange. Yes, I forgot. Her mother never forgets, especially with this dangerous one here. No, Marie. Shall we never go to sleep? What time is it? It's o'clock, less than a quarter. You are sure this is the time for the American breakfast? Yes, for all Americans. Three eggs will be enough for him? The tray will be full. Two rolls, butter, brioche, milk, eggs, apple juice. Well, I will come with you. But you will carry the tray. But softly, not to make him angry if he's still sleeping. Wake him. This is usual before eating. He's gone? The window. Yes, there he is. Where? There in the apple orchard. Henry go on, ask him if something is wrong. Are we late with the breakfast? Maybe he waited for us. Monsieur l'Américain. Monsieur l'Américain. Hello, sir. I have been searching. I've just been looking over your orchards, some mighty fine trees. You know apples? Sir, I was raised on apples. I'm from apple country. We grow better apples than anywhere in the whole U.S. Baldwin's delicious macintosh. Macintosh? Of this one I have heard very, very much. It is a good apple, no? Oh, you bet. It looks a little bit like this one you got growing here. Can I pick it? But yes, pick as many as you wish. Here, this one. Yeah. Do you see what I mean? Macintosh is a little broader, but this is a pretty one, too. What do you call it? This is my best, bimé rouge. But I have muscadet, douze amères, rennet au bruit, and many, many which are good for cider. Cider? Oh, I thought you only made calvados. No, no, no, no. Cider, too. Much, much cider. What soda, we? Braymore, like us, then. Well, sure, pop bottles, isn't it? Sales into the city. Yeah. We, too. You preserve it, too? Of course. Soutre d'oxie. Well, pa, use benzoate of soda. Both are good for a bittersweet apple. They're the best. You sure know your apples, Monserco. You also, Mrs. Smith. That's a small world when you get to talking apples. But for friends, the world is never big. Boy, I'm glad to be here. And I am happy you are here. And now, in breakfast? You're bad. Well, Marie, what do you think of him? Come, Marie, confess that you were wrong. Why? Because we are not yet with our throats cut? Or because he is so wise to not eat as a pig? No, Marie, because he is a polite boy with good manners at the table. You mean with his no more rule, Monsieur Colbert, his thank you for this, and thank you for that, and thank you, Amelia. What is wrong? The words do not come from the heart. Marie. Has he offered to pay? For the end of Sampia? Oui. He's not broken beyond repair. But he did not do it. His comrades did, no? Eh, oui. And I do not trust this one, either. These ones who call out like crazy in the middle of the night, yelling and breaking windows. But this one has not acted so. He's not one of the soldiers in the village. Nevertheless, he is a soldier. Perhaps a soldier in a home is no longer a soldier. And perhaps he is. Maybe I will go to speak to him some more. To know him better. Bon, it is time to realize that you are Nana's father. What happened? I have an accident, Nana. Your papa will tell you. Ah, but you are home early for the weekend. Ah, there was not much while I set the hospital. And also it is good to be away from the city. Away from the Americans, you mean. American? The soldiers. But they do not bother us. Nana, we were compelled to take one into our house. One what, mama? One American soldier. One dead? No. A fighter who comes for five days to rest. Is he an old one? He is a soldier. Oh, then he is not young. Soldiers are without age. Then he is not very, very old. Listen to me, Nana. The less you have to do with him, the better. Yes, mama. Where are you going? To say hello to papa. Is he in your shop? Yes, with the American, which is safe. And you will please to come immediately back to the kitchen where I need you. Oh, yes, mama. I will allow you back. Very particular apple. Oh, you are the American. I am a musical bear. I am looking for my... Your father. Well, wait a minute. I'm coming down. Hello. Hello. Hello. You do not seem to be shouting. Huh? Oh, shooting. What do you mean? Oh, fighting. I don't get it. Oh, my mother, I think you are, what did you say, off? Me? What did I do? Oh, she speaks of shooting guns in the night and shouting. Oh, she must have met the fellas last night. Well, we just came out of the big battle at Mortain, and they were sort of feeling good. And you too, monsieur. Well, I wasn't exactly sleeping. Look, couldn't you just call me Joe? Joe? Oh, yes, if you like. Want me to help you look for your father? If you wish. You know, you are my heart and judge G.I.'s by what she saw last night. I'm sorry about that broken glass. Mama paid almost one thousand francs for the undersamp here. That must have been kind of beautiful. To her, holy. A beautiful stain of blue and red and white. Huh, but it is gone now. Perhaps I've said enough for one evening, and perhaps it is time for sleep, no? Wait, it is not so late. It is almost eleven. Evening sure did fly. Joe, tomorrow is Sunday. Would you like to go to church with us? I sure would. Ah, c'est bon. Marie, shall we go to bed? Oui, it is time. Nonna? Oui, mama. Good night, Joe. I didn't understand much of the vestors, but I got the spirit of it. It is the same feeling as now. Yeah, quiet, peaceful. It's like this at home when it's just beginning to get dark. And yet they're fighting only a few miles away. Nonna, we could be walking down the road alongside my pa's farm. Is it so much the same? The same sounds. The evening air has that same soft feel. And the same moon. Well, that's for sure. You heard that? The bird? Oh, no. No, thunder. Is it going terrain? That was artillery, Nonna. Oh, yes. Yes, I really knew. There is a passage here in the fence, just here. The path goes through the north orchard. It is closer up to the house this way. Here it is. Oh, she smells good here. Like home. It is the apple blossom. See the air is still. Yes, it is. Do you, uh, you have to go back now? We couldn't sit on the porch. Mama will be happier. Wait a minute, Nonna. Do you also, like your mom, think that I'm too... I'm too... Rough? Yeah. I do not think so. Then you think I'm okay? Yes. Nonna, Nonna, before we go back. Yes, Joe? Nonna. Joe, you are staying only five days. Two are gone already. Oh, no. Three are left. Nonna, I... I... I too. Then I'll come back, Nonna. And I will wait. Is Nonna at home? Not yet. She has probably gone to look for a letter. Why are you so certain that the American will not send one? Because it is already four months since he went away. It came? From me? Oui. A letter? Oui. Here it is. Oh, the letter, perhaps. But he himself will never come. I promise. The promise of a soldier, my little one. Dear Nonna, I can't tell you where I am. But as you told me, the night I left, this is the most beautiful city in the world. Someday we will come here together. I know it was sort of dumb, stupid of me not to say what I wanted to before I left. But the words were strange and hard to say. But at last I've gotten enough courage to say that I... Oh, Mama. Mama. It is almost half a year since he let her. Letters are slow in time of war. Forget him. He is a soldier. It is as hopeless to wait for him as for restitution of our hand of some fear. Dear, who can this be? I will see Papa. Colbert, Nanna Colbert? Oui. I'm with base headquarters out of her inches. Buddy, mine got letter with one for you and closed in it. Bonjour. Yeah, that's right. Joe Smith. Oh, merci. Very, very much. Ah, that's all right. Good night. Mama. But Texas was never like this. Get that potbellied stove, Joe. Shut up over there. Hi, Zach. Say, Fitz, is foxhole one word or two? Ah, right. A little gal in Normandy, huh? Uh-huh. Oh, see, I meant to tell you guys. You remember that window you broke? Yeah. Nanna writes that her mom sure thought a lot of it. Oh, come on, Joe. Just cause you're sweet on the gal's no reason to worry us with a little old broken window. Yeah, what's one window more or less in a man-sized war like this? Fall out in 10 minutes, you guys. In this weather? All right, let's... I've only got 10 more minutes, Nanna, and we've got some sort of job to do. It seems hard to make my real thoughts reach you across the whole length of France. But with the help of an earnest prayer, maybe this letter will reach you to tell you that I will come back. It is the most peaceful Sunday, Marie. Every year, the distance from the church is more. Let us take the short part, Mama. Sometimes I feel as if the good Lord is angry with me. Marie, you have been feeling this way so foolishly ever since the end of San Pierre. Perhaps it was an omen. I wrote to Joe about him. Joe, he was the beginning. Marie. Do not stop my mouth, Henri. This Joe Smith will never come back. Justice my hand of San Pierre is forever lost. You must learn, my little Nanna, to love wisely. A soldier's kiss is always given lightly. Now, a farmer. But, Marie, the boy was a farmer. Perhaps, but he was not a Frenchman. But still a farmer. An American who knew more about the apple orchard than many Frenchmen. Perhaps, but what does it matter now? Why do you talk as if you were not coming back? Oh, you are not feeling well again, my little one, but we are here at home. We sit down. Papa, what is that white in the door? It looks like... It is a letter. Dearest Nanna, although everybody thinks that the war will be over soon, we are deep in Germany now. The going is as tough for my outfit as it ever was. Hey, Joe. Huh? What? You really fixing to marry that French girl? I'll lay off, Fitz. Not poking fun, Zach, I'm body serious. If I ever get out of this, I'm sure gonna ask her. Why? Well, I don't know. Seems kind of strange having foreigners for family. Yeah, but I sort of thought of it the other way around. What do you mean? Well, ever since you've been writing to Nanna, I sort of stopped thinking of her as being a foreigner. I guess that's why I really ask you, Joe. Don't seem right now to forget about breaking that religious window that Nanna's mother was a partial to. Oh, forget it. Money can repair that sort of thing. Besides, whoever sees a thousand francs all at once. I don't know. I don't know. Just don't seem right no more. Hey, you guys. We've been alerted to move. Walking. Not riding this time behind the tanks. Ah, good. We're away, Sarge. See that church steeple? Man, that's a cathedral. Well, whatever it is, that's where we're going. All right, let's get up. We're moving again, Nanna. Another city to take. Cities are tough. About coming back to Normandy, the rumor is that as soon as the shooting is over in Europe, we'll be sent off to the Pacific. Somehow, instead of getting close. And so again, we have defeated the Germans and the Japanese, also defeated. Please, Henry, the rocking chair. Oh, forgive me, Henry. I did not mean to speak sharply, but ever since the Armistice, I am annoyed by small irritations more than before. I understand. Poor Nanna. When she is unhappy, we are twice unhappy. I do not know what to say. She will no longer go to the hospital. She will no longer take an interest in the house or friends in a ranch. Only to wander like I lost one old day in the orchard. It is not good, Henry. I too begin to think he will never come. I am sure. But why? To me, he seemed like one of our own French boys intelligent, polite in the house, and I think gentle with our Nanna. And that boy is the same over the whole world. And I'm not the homes of families the same, also. Henry, you ask only because you will not open your eyes to see how one American contacts himself is to learn about all Americans. How can you forget the hand of Sampierre? On the afternoon the sun entered there through our doorway as blue as red as white, like the color of the holy glass. And see there now in the door where was my hand of Sampierre is only a ugly piece of wood. An unfortunate mischance, Mary. It is getting cold outside. The sun is sinking. Nanna, you must not worry so. It is nearly October. They have heard nothing at the headquarters in Averinche. They tell nothing. Perhaps it is better this way, my little one. Nanna, there will be others. And you knew him for only five days. Oh, surely. I seem to have known him all through the war, even to have been with him, helping him to live through a year. It is not easy. What is it, Nanna? I said I heard him. I heard the word. It is in American talk. Oh, is it possible that this is... Of course it is possible. Did I not say all the time that it would pass? Oh, it's impossible. Nanna. Oh, Joe. Nanna, I was afraid all the way that... That I would not wait. Yeah. Oh, and I. But you would not come. Well, I declare. Running is the sunset over everything. The others, too. The other ones who call out there yell and break windows. Hello, Monsieur Colbert, Madame Colbert. I guess you can see how glad I am to be back. Of course, Joe. Welcome, welcome. Hey, fellas, come here. I want to introduce you. This is Private Fitzroy Davis. Ma'am, I thought I'd never smell anything as sweet as Texas orange blossoms till I came to Normandy. I'm deeply honored, Monser and Madame. Yeah, and this is Zach Williams. Hiya. Oh, Chantaine, Monsieur. Shall we go in? It's cool. Hey, after you, ma'am. Oh, no, no, no, no. You go first. Oh, no, ma'am. Ladies first. It's an old U.S. custom. Oh, merci, Monsieur. But where is Nanna and Joe? They don't snuck all. They will be back soon. Go in, go in. I love you. Thanks. Madame Colbert, Zach, and I brought this package for you. For me? Yeah, a little something fits when we picked up in the last German city we took. Here you are, ma'am. Go ahead, open it. We were riding fast behind a tank. Yeah, the center of the city was our objective, a bomb cathedral. The windows was broken and a piece is no bigger than your fist. Except one piece, sir. Laying in the gutter where it would have gotten smacked. Oh, my Lord. Mon Dieu, it is a hand. A beautiful stained glass. More beautiful than the other. Another Saint-Pierre. You see, Marie, they did remember to bring it back. And Joe too, he remembered to come back to our Nanna. Yes, I thought wrong of him, too. Then now, you are happy, Marie. Oh, I will. No, I do not know whether to love or cry, Henri. I'm not sure. Only now we lose our daughter. No, Marie. We are gaining an American son. Mrs. Waddo Connor again. Every one of us has several friends, acquaintances or relatives of whom we can say they bring the very best out of nearly everyone whom they meet. In other words, some people draw us up, make us feel finer, more humane, more kindly, more inclined to merciful and understanding interpretations. It's a treat to come into their presence and to be associated with them. We know that there is a better side to us than the one we usually present to the public, and these more special persons seem to be able to bring to the surface this better nature of ours. The interesting thing about such persons is, I may add, that they're not professional uplifters, professional cheer-uppers, life of the party vitalists. Much less are they back-slappers. They are just extremely honest natures, and something genuine in them brings out by association and contact something genuine and therefore fine in us. I thought I would mention this observation not because it's an original remark of my own, but because it has a relationship to family prayer. The little prayer of one kind or another that a family group says together at mealtimes or in the evening, or when some crisis necessarily calls for our praying together. When we actually pray to God, we are always revealing to ourselves and the others of our family all its best in us. This revelation is a byproduct of prayer, but it's important because it's contagious. It affects the confidence in each other. It restores to the family what may have been lost by the friction of living close to each other, and so as we are drawn up to God by prayer, we're drawn together by prayers also. The vertical threads in our life fabric lock together the horizontal threads, and family life profits by this closely woven texture. No wonder then is it that the family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood, Family Theater has brought you the hand of San Pierre, featuring Barbara Rush. Rod O'Connor was your host. Others in our cast were Gene Bates, Stan Waxman, Tommy Cook, Howard Culver, Billy Baugham, and Ed Chandler. The script was written by Arthur Weiss, with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman, and was directed for Family Theater by Joseph F. Mansfield. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who feel the need for this type of program, by the mutual network which responds to this need, and by the hundreds of stars of stage, screen, and radio who give so unselfishly of their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony Lofrano expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home, and inviting you to join us next week at the same time when Family Theater will present Jeff Chandler and Jane Wyatt in the Kitty Story Story. Join us, won't you? Family Theater is broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood Studios, the world's largest network. The mutual broadcasting system.