 There presents Dennis Day and Gene Evans from Hollywood the mutual network in cooperation with Family Theater presents Blood Will Tell starring Gene Evans and now here's your host Dennis Day. 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 ought to win 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 transcribed drama Blood Will Tell starring Gene Evans as Phil Jerem. We had sat there in the waiting room at the Pennsylvania station for over an hour me and the tall well-dressed woman from Cincinnati. If it had been a weekend we wouldn't have had a prayer but this was Wednesday afternoon and only one out of every dozen or so passengers coming through the train gates was a service man. So if private Edmund Winkler turned out to be one of them chances were we'd spot him. Mr. Gerald you'd like take a few minutes to get a bite to eat. No thanks Mrs. Winkler glad to get you something though. No I'm not hungry. Were you ever in the army? Quite a while ago. Did did you mind being a soldier? Well sometimes it depends on your outfit if they're okay the army's okay. Maybe that's why your son went over the hill. Over the hill? Is that slang for desertion? Well not exactly desertion that means you don't ever expect to come back. Your boy's just a wall absent without leave. Maybe you got a nose full of some non-com who's been on his neck. No that's what worries me. Eddie never they never had any difficulty getting along with people it's something else. Did he ever run away from home when he was a boy? No. No. And you say you haven't told his father? Oh no. No I George knew about this heat. He'd never get over it. I told him I was coming to visit Marion. That's my sister. She lives here in New York. Would your son be likely to get in touch with her? Well he hasn't so far but... Mr. Jones. I see. Don't get up yet. A tall soldier with the blue suitcase? Yes. Well I've never had anything break this easy. Do you want me to tag him for you? Maybe. Or maybe you better. Seeing me might give him a shock. Sure. Will you stay put? I'll break the news and bring him over. And tell him not to be afraid. Don't worry. I stood up and started across the waiting room. Private Winker was about 50 feet away and walking toward the escalators. He wouldn't have pegged him for a young man on the run. Much less an army misfit. His uniform was clean and neatly pressed. His shoes shined and he carried himself like a Colonel. I caught up to him just opposite the information booth. Excuse me. You're Edmund Winkler, aren't you? Edmund? You've got the wrong guy, Mac. My name's Q-Sack. Well, your mother's here, soldier. Sitting over there on one of those benches. I'll be a good fella. I tell you, you've got the wrong guy. My name is Q-Sack. George Q-Sack. Soldier, I'm not a cop. I'm not going to take you in. Look. My dog tags. George Q-Sack. I haven't got any mother. My mother died when I was a kid, seven years old in Chicago. I haven't got any folks at all. Winkler, I don't know where you got the dog tags. Look, are you calling me a liar? Take it easy, son. For the last time, the name is Q-Sack. I got a... I got a pass here. Here, look at that. Signed by my C.O. at Fort Dix. Now, how much proof do you want? Is this on the level? Sure it is. Who is this lady you got? I think she's my mother. That tall gray-haired woman over there in the green coat. Oh, yeah. She's waving. This beats me on the square, mister. Would you do me a favor? Would you come over and talk to her? Sure, I don't mind. Maybe all she needs is a stronger pair of glasses. We walked back across the station toward the bench where Mrs. Winkler was seated. She stood up and smiled and came toward us. The soldier didn't say a word when she reached out and put her hand on his arm. Eddie, are you all right? Maybe you'd better tell her, mister. Eddie, what? He says he isn't Eddie, Mrs. Winkler. He's got a set of dog tags to prove his name's Q-Sack. Is there any chance you could be wrong? Wrong. Oh, no, Eddie. Ma'am, I don't know what to tell you. I'm just not your son. Eddie, don't listen. Lady, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm not your boy, but... Oh, please, dear, please. Mrs. Winkler, this isn't going to help. I got a hold of yourself. Don't you think I know my own son? Mr. She's just made a mistake. That's all I can figure. Sit down, Mrs. Winkler, please. I'm awfully sorry. Look, soldier, I'm a private detective. Now, here's my card. Give me a call at that number about noon tomorrow. Will you be in town that long? Yeah, but I don't want to get mixed up in anything. Well, you won't. Don't worry. But just as a favor, check in with me, huh? It's only a phone call. Okay. Good. So long. Yeah, it's a pleasure. Goodbye, ma'am. I'm sorry. Oh, no, Eddie. Mrs. Winkler, you've made a mistake. Oh, I haven't... He won't come back, Mrs. Winkler, please. Take my word for it. You've made a mistake. I finally got her out of the station and into a cab. And as we drove back to a hotel through the heavy evening rush hour traffic, Mrs. George Winkler told me some more about her son, Edmund, and gave me a snapshot of him. He was a dead ringer for the soldier in the station. When we got to the hotel, I saw her as far as the elevators. Then I left and hopped a cross-town bus back to my office. Mr. Jerem? Yes? The receptionist said I could wait here. Well, sure. What can I do for you? I'm... My name is Thatcher. Julie Thatcher. I'm a friend of Eddie Winkler's. That's pretty good. Do you know his mother's in town? Yes, but... Well, she doesn't know. I followed her here from Cincinnati. Were you at the train station this afternoon? No. Back home, she told me the day before yesterday that Eddie had run away from the army camp. I see. Are you Eddie's girl? We're engaged. When was the last time you saw him? Almost six months ago. He was home on leave. Then you haven't found him. Well, we found a soldier who looked like him, but... Hold on a minute. That's my phone. Hello? Yes? This is Q-SAC. Private Q-SAC. Oh, yeah. Didn't expect to hear from you until tomorrow. What's on your mind? It's about my pass. You didn't give it back to me when I showed it to you in the station. Your pass? Oh, yeah. The blue card. Well, hang on. I'll go through my pockets. Miss Thatcher? Yes? Get on the extension over there, will you? I want you to listen to this kid's voice. Is this the soldier that you see? Yeah. But not a word. Just listen to him. Understand? All right. Don't pick up the receiver until I wave to you. I'll cough at the same time to cover the sound of the click. Do you think it might be Eddie after all? I'll tell you the truth. I don't know what to think. Remember, not till I wave. All right. Q-SAC? Yeah? Sorry to keep you waiting. I found it all right. Want me to drop it off while you're staying? I could just as easy come over to your office. Sure. Only thing is, I'm leaving here now. You still anywhere near Penn Station? Not far, I guess. Good. Suppose I meet you there in the waiting room in half an hour. Good enough. I'll be there. So long. So long, soldier. Well? But it sounded like Eddie in some ways, but deeper, older. I can't be sure. Can you think of any reason why he'd do a thing like this if it was Eddie? No. No, I can't. You've talked to him yourself? Not more than an hour ago in person. So did Mrs. Winkler. Oh, it must be someone else. I don't think Eddie could face his mother like that in lie tour. Maybe he could if he thought he had to. But there wouldn't be any point to it. Mrs. Winkler gave me this snapshot a little while ago. Is that Eddie? Yes. I even remember the day it was taken out in his front yard. Well, then it has to go like this. The soldier in the station is a dead ringer for Eddie. Both you and Mrs. Winkler say the boy in the snapshot is Eddie. So, accepting that, we come out with an alternative. What do you mean? Well, either we swallow the idea that this is just a big coincidence, or we have to conclude that the soldier in the station is Eddie and that he's lying. But it could be a coincidence. Oh, sure it could. I've been a private detective pushing 13 years. And at all that time, I've seen two valid coincidences. This could be the third, but I'd be doing a bad job if I banked on it. I know. It's crazy. It may get a little crazier before we're through. I'm meeting that soldier in a few minutes. You could help a lot if you want. If Eddie's in trouble, of course I'll help. I'll do anything you say. We caught a cab downstairs and headed back across town. It had started to rain and by the time we pulled up in front of the station's 7th Avenue entrance, the water was blowing down in big, heavy sheets. Now, you've got everything straight, Miss Thatcher. I think so. Whatever you do, don't look at him. Just make sure when you bump into me that he gets a good close look at you. All right. What are you going to do? Well, I don't know. I may have to get tough. These are things you have to play by ear. You know, Mr. Jerm, you're a funny kind of man to be a private detective. You just don't know any private detectives. I guess I don't. All set? Yes. I'll give me about two minutes and then, here, pay off the driver with that and come on in. All right. Good luck. Never mind that. Just don't tip him over a quarter. I ran across the rain's left sidewalk and up the wide steps in between the dark columns in front of the entrance. Then I went through the glass doors and started along the arcade. The station was crowded with people, plus two didn't bunches up near the entrances, bearing out waiting for the rain to stop. Looking down from the moving escalator, I couldn't make out private Q-SAC among the soldiers standing near the information booth. And then, just as I alighted at the bottom, I saw him. He was wearing a raincoat. Hi. How you doing, soldier? Not so bad. Sorry I had to bring you down here in the rain. Oh, not at all. It was my fault. Oh, have you got my pass? Oh, sure. I slipped it into my wallet. I had it right here. Oh, here's something that might interest you. A snapshot I picked up this afternoon. Who is it? Doesn't it look familiar? Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say it looked a little like me. I'd say a little more than a little. You and the boy in that picture could be twins. Is this the guy that lady thought I was this afternoon? That's the guy. Some coincidence, huh? Yeah. Can I have my pass now? You got it right here. As I reached into my wallet, I glanced up toward the head of the escalator. The Thatcher girl was standing there, stemming at me. She nodded and stepped onto the escalator and started down. I took the soldier's pass out of my wallet and handed it to him. Thanks, mister. Forget it. Can I drop you anywhere? No, I'm going uptown. I'll catch a subway. I'd be glad to give you a lift. Oh, excuse me. Excuse me. Drop your magazine. Thank you. I'm late for my train. Cute girl, huh? Yeah. Is anything wrong, Eddie? I know. My name's not Eddie. No good, Winkler. Your face gave it away. I told you once before. Son, that was Julie Thatcher and you're Ed Winkler and we both know it. Thatcher? Yeah. Now, are you going to come back to your mother's hotel with me and explain this thing? Or do I have to get mean? Well, it was the wrong thing to say. The mention of his mother, Winkler's face, went cold as stone. His hands had been plunged into the pockets of his raincoat and now I saw the right one move as if it were gripping something. I'm not going anywhere with you. Now, I can guess what you've got there. That's right. Eddie, a gun won't help you in a spot like this. You get out of here. Get out of here and leave me alone. You're just making it worse. We haven't anything to talk about. Leave me alone. You're in the jam all right and maybe I can help. Nobody can help. I don't want any help and I'll get going. Eddie, I want you to give me the gun. Now, nobody will see you just hand it to me. Okay, Mr. I saw it coming and tried to pull back. Winkler's hand started out of his pocket slowly but then it became a fast blur smashing against the side of my face. My eyes flooded and I couldn't see. I went down on one knee and as he ran past me toward the train gates somebody took hold of my arm. Mr. Jerem, that was Eddie. Are you all right? No. Oh, wait a minute. Wait a minute. So can you stand up? Yeah, sort of. And I cut here. No, there's a bruise. What's going on? Officer, did you see where that soldier went? Through the train gate, sir. What is sluggy for? Here's my card. I'm working on a case. Which train gate? Ground investigator. That soldier's mother is a client of mine. He went over the hill. He's a wall. Well, there's no place you can go through those gates except on one of the passenger platforms. Do you think I could get any help on this? Sure, I'll call the lieutenant. Now that the soldier's bottled up, it ought to be easy. Easy. Well, by now he's either hiding on a train or out there in the yards. All we gotta do is close off the other end and move in on him. The officer put in a call to be superior from the house phone at the information booth. Ten minutes later, a cordon of uniformed police and blame clothesman was thrown around the yards. The military police detachment assigned a four-man unit to search each of the passenger trains, waiting to lead the station, and checked the dog tags of every serviceman aboard. Winkler wasn't among them. That minute, he was hiding somewhere out in the train yards. The lieutenant in charge of the police detail passed the order to start closing in from both ends. It was still raining as we moved out from under the train shed into the darkness. You don't have to come along. You'll just get all wet. I'll be all right. You got a gun? Yeah. How's your face feel? Numb. That's one thing never happened to me. I've been a cop ten years and no one's ever pistol with me. Well, the kid was just excited. I saw you go down. He really landed square. He really was just excited. That's the trouble with kids. You get a hold of a gun and you don't know what's going to happen. You're lucky you didn't... Hey, Meeker! You all alone? No, Lieutenant. I'm with Jim. You're going to have to split up, holler and turn to his ankle. Take over for him here. Yeah, but this man isn't... It's all right. Go ahead. What about, dude? You're not a cop. Well, go on. I can take care of myself. Okay, here. Take my flashlight. I'll get hell on. Now yell if you need any help. Don't worry. I will. Meeker ducked his head and crawled under one of the empty freight cars from along the track next to us. I held a flash on him until he was out of sight. Then I swung the yellow beam ahead of me and started down along the road with deserted cars. Wondering about Private Winkler and what he was running from. And about the dog tags he was wearing with the name George Cusack on him. I played the light into the open door of the next freight car. Anybody in there? Is that you in there, Winkler? Winkler? It's me. Don't move. And don't move the light. I got a gun on you. I know you've got a gun. I've got a swollen jaw to prove it. Snap off the light. Climb up here into the car. Keep your hands in front of you. Eddie, do you know there's almost two dozen cops searching this train yard for you? Get up here. All right. Take off your hat and top coat. Kid, for the last time, I'm trying to help. Shut up and get out of that coat. I don't want your help. I don't need it. What happened to George Cusack, Eddie? He getting your way too? Shut up. Is that why you're wearing his dog tags? Because he doesn't need him anymore? You're a great guesser, aren't you? You and my mother always trying to dope me out. Like I'm a 12-year-old. You're not acting much brighter than one. If I didn't need you to get out of here, I'd cured you for that. You know something, Winkler? I believe you. Kept his gun dug hard into the small of my back as we let ourselves down from the freight car and started back through the drizzly darkness toward the lights of the passenger platform. When we reached the train shed, Winkler pulled me to a stop. You remember, Mr. I've got two guns now and I'm not afraid to use them, so don't fool around. I won't fool around. From now on, you walk a little bit ahead of me, just a foot or two. But remember, I've got this gun pointed right at you and so's the other one in my pocket. Start walking. Far into the platform, an oiler was talking with the engineer up in the cab of the train on our left. Neither of them noticed us. We passed the open door of a mail car and I could hear one of the sorters laughing. Down near the train gates I caught sight of a blue uniform. Too far away. I didn't see the MP Sergeant until we were almost on top of him. A big red-faced guy who swung down from the door of the diner onto the platform, not 10 feet from us. He was holding a 45 automatic in one hand and a paper cup full of coffee in the other. He and Winkler must have seen each other just as I started to move. I felt Winkler's wrist crack under the heel of my hand and then I was flat on my stomach listening to the 45 explode. Mr, did I hit you? No, I'm all right Sergeant. How's uh, how's he doing? No, no, they're not good. Well you better call an ambulance. Maybe he's still got a chance. What's happened? Your face? Can I come in Mrs Winkler? Why, of course. Julie, it's Mr. Durham. Mind if I sit down? Please do. I came back here after I left the station. Yeah, I'm glad you did. Did this young lady tell you we found your son? Yes, but she said he got away. Yeah, that's what happened to my face. I'm truly sorry. It's all right. What I came to tell you was that we caught him again. You did? Is he all right? No. No, he's not. And he never has been, Mrs Winkler. You should have told me he wasn't a soldier. I don't know what you mean. I mean you lied to me. Every step of the way, both of them. Mr. Durham. Give it up. You're not his girlfriend, Julie, you're his sister. He, he told you? He wasn't a soldier and you both knew it. He's been doing things like this all his life because he was sick. So you covered up for him? He was even willing to let him get away with murder? No. No, we were going to take him home and put him in a hospital. I swear. You knew he killed that soldier, Cusack, didn't you? You knew what the minute Eddie wrote and told you he'd met him on a train and got the guy to lend him his uniform. We, we couldn't be sure. How, how did you know he wrote to us? Well, he told me himself in the hospital. Hospital? Is he hurt? He said he hurt. He was shot. Not by me. One of the MPs got him. He's dead, isn't he? About an hour ago. But it wasn't the bullets that killed him. He's dead. Eddie's dead. He lived long enough to tell us about killing Cusack. He just wanted his uniform. He, he wasn't sick all the time. I know. The doctors told us. What did you mean it wasn't the bullets that killed him? Well, he was hurt. Bad. But they might have been able to save him if it hadn't been for those dog tags he took from Cusack. Dog tags? Uh-huh. You see, before they got your son to the hospital he lost a lot of blood. So they gave him a transfusion. First thing, well in the army one of the things they have stamped on a soldier's dog tags is his blood type because if you don't get the right kind for a transfusion it, it can be fatal. You mean they gave Eddie the kind of blood that Cusack should have? That's right. Eddie and Cusack weren't the same type at all. This is Dennis Day again. I hope that by now listening to family theater has become a habit with you folks. It should be because family theater is your program dedicated to your family. The idea of the program came from among you, our listeners. You ask that we, the performers in radio and motion pictures and the technical people, get together and bring you a weekly series like this to acknowledge all the fundamental, plain American things that we believe in. We know as you do that a happy family is just about the greatest thing that a man could wish for. And we genuinely believe that family prayer asking God for His help and giving thanks for that help will keep our families together and happy. General Omar Bradley had this to say on the subject of family life and I quote General Bradley. Because the family is the basic unit of society it is there that responsibility begins unless the young man of this generation can feel that the security, the well-being and happiness of his family is in part a responsibility of his. There is no hope in tutoring him later on his broader obligations. End quote. And that's the very thing that family theater tells us each week. That and more. Family theater gives us the reminder that daily family prayer will bring God's help and protection on your home. Family prayer will help build family responsibility and help guarantee family happiness. The family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Family theater has brought your transcribed Lord Will Tell starring Gene Evans. Dennis Day was your host. Others in our cast were Irene Tedrow, Sam Edwards, Joyce McCluskey, Don Diamond and Robert Emlin. The script was written and directed by John T Kelly with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman. 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 is responded to this need and by the hundreds of stars of state, screen and radio who give so unselfishly their time and talent to appear on our family theater stage. To them and to you our humble thanks. This is Tony LaFranco 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 when family theater will present Fair Exchange starring Bobby Driscoll. Barry Sullivan will be your host. Join us won't you? Family theater is broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network. This is Mutual, the radio network for all America.