 Dupont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry, presents John Garfield in The Blessings of Liberty. Before we begin our play, here's a suggestion for victory gardeners and factory workers. Dupont Protec, hand protective cream, acts like an invisible glove. Apply it to your hands before starting work. To remove, use running water to dissolve the protective film and carry the dirt away with it. By Protec, made by Dupont, he are a free people. The guarantee and contract of our liberty are simply stated and written down for all men to know and ponder. But words without deeds are barren for what avail the plow or sail or land or life if freedom fails. Our Dupont cavalcade is a story of an American soldier on the Anzio beachhead awaiting the signal for a shower and the remembrances out of his life that give bone and blood and heart to our word guarantee of freedom. Cavalcade recognizing I am an American day to be celebrated next Sunday presents John Garfield as Private Jim Hunter, Army of the United States in The Blessings of Liberty, an original radio play by Sylvia and Robert Richards on The Cavalcade of America. I'm Manson Hunter, 25 years old from Adams, Indiana. I'm waiting with my company in a stone farmhouse on the Anzio beachhead. It's almost dawn and at 5 a.m. we will attack. Yesterday, other men were here who went where we are going. We saw some of them being brought back during the afternoon. As for us, for the past hour, we've just been talking. It's getting lively out there. We must be giving it to them. You know, the noise that gets me. Is this your first time? Yeah. Oh, you'll get used to it, Lou. Sure. It's just like when we moved from Flatbush to Manhattan. What time is it, Jim? He just told you. I'm a guy. Can I ask him? Talk, talk, talk. What time is it? Don't like the noise. It's getting later. Listen, brother, no, and the time won't help. All right, Tony. Keep your shirt on. Hey, anybody got something to read there? We could take two. It's catechism. That's all. Gee, that's funny. It is not. Yours is. Well, we don't do that. Hey, old Mary, our catechism. Don't you do any of the rest? What's the rest? Like our father who art in heaven? Oh, sure we do. Everybody does that. But you don't. But you don't even know it. Sure. It's our father who art in heaven. How would be thy name? What's the name of your Sunday school? St. Mary's. It's Catholic. Oh. Well, I guess that's all right. Sure it is. Pretty big thing when you come to think of it that a kid can get to be seven years old without even knowing that there's any difference of opinion about religion. In Germany or Japan, people have been killed for saying what we kids said that morning. And that's in the Constitution. Freedom of religion. I wonder what happened to Tom Alloy. He's in this, too, somewhere. He volunteered before me. There's something else I remember. I was about 12 or 13. You see, my father's a lawyer. And for a long time, he was county attorney. And he and my mother used to talk at supper time about what was going on in the town. And I just listened. Most of it was over my head. But one night, it was spring, I remember. He came home awfully worried. Is the meat too well done, dear? Huh? Oh. Oh, no, no, no. It's fine. You're not eating. You know, Anne, it's a bad business. I don't like it. Yes, but you have to eat. Jim, dear, Elba's off the table. Oh, yes, Mom. Oh, what's a bad business, Dad? Well, it's just your father's case, Jim. Is it about what Eddie Parker'd asked? Please, Jim. What do you know about Mrs. Parker, son? Oh, gee. I know somebody killed her because she was a miser and had lots of money. Yes. And they caught the man who did it. And he had blood all over him. And he confessed. You see, Anne? Oh, it's true. Isn't it, Dad? No. No, Jim. It isn't. Oh, gosh. Everybody says. Look, Jim, boy. I'll tell you what's true. Sure, Dad. Mrs. Parker was killed. The man's been arrested. The man who's called a hobo. But, but he confessed. No, son. He's not confessed. And there was no blood. Oh, gee. You see, Anne, even in our home, rumors, threats, it's all over town. But, dear, they couldn't. Well, they won't. Friendship. Listen. Oh, no, Jim. Maybe I can head them off. Oh, please, please, John, no. Dad, can I go with you, Dad? I have to. And I have to try. Somebody has to stop them. John, you'll be hurt. Let me go too. Please, sir. Don't worry. I won't be hurt. May God know what it is. Somehow I gave my mother the slip and followed. I don't know how. But I remember I felt some of the excitement of nights at the county fair. It took just a few minutes for me to get to the center of town. I met people going the same way I was. People who ran out of the side streets carrying axes, guns, clubs, and yelling. When I got to the jail, there was a big crowd yelling and pushing. I saw my father standing alone on the steps of the jail. He was facing the crowd shouting. Tell us, what are you doing here? And you, Carl, you know this can't be done, not in this country. This man's entitled to a trial to protection under the law. We've got a job to do. I'm ashamed for you. For our town. If you do this, there's not a man or woman left. Suddenly, I couldn't see my father. The mob went forward and I followed it. When I got to the steps, I found him. He'd been hit. There was blood running down his face. And he was wiped and dazed. Jim, Jim, boy, how did you get here? I, I've fallen, Jim. Don't cry, son. Don't cry. Don't cry. But why did they hit you? Why? Don't cry for me, Jim, boy. Cry for them. See, my father was right. It wasn't just that a man got hung who may have been innocent. It was worse than that. For days afterwards, no one in that town could look anyone else in the eye. There was a sort of sickness, a feeling of shame. I don't think it will ever happen again. I think the people learned that night the same things we're learning now. It isn't enough just to have the laws of human decency written down on a book somewhere and call it the Constitution. You've got to make it work. No exceptions. I remember the summer I was 17. I got a job on a farm outside town. There was an old man there, a hired hander, a Polish fellow named Steve. I guess he liked me. And he had a lot to say, even if his English wasn't so hot. One early fall day when there wasn't much work, I decided to go hunting. I was out by the barn cleaning my gun, and Steve hung around and kept talking. Oh, maybe you get rabbit, eh? I cook you. Sure, Steve. Sometimes. Yes, I steal them. Steal them? I thought you lived on a farm. Sure, sure. But in my country, everything belonged to the noblemen. The land, even little birds and rabbits. Everything. No killing. Even rabbits. Well, how'd you catch them? Very hard, with traps. It's very good. You had a gun. Oh, no, this one isn't much. When I get paid here, I'm going to buy me a beauty. In my country, Jim, no guns. What do you mean? Don't they make them? Make them, yes. For the big men who run the country. Oh. Well, you didn't have enough dough to buy one. No, no. You see, they are afraid. Afraid. In America, it is your country. For everybody. So, you have guns? Anybody have guns? Sure. Well, that's right. Over there, big men's country. They are afraid of me, of Steve, of the people. And so, no guns. I still don't get it. You are young man, Jim. I see many things. Yeah? I see you can go shoot rabbit, not steal. Sure, but suppose I couldn't. And you can work hard and save by farm. That is good. Sure, if you go in for farming. Over there, you must farm. But on other man's farm, the nobleman. See, that's lousy. Why do you put up with it? Why don't you get together and change things? Looks easy, Jim. But in America, many people die so you can say this. So you can get together like you say. Say, Steve, I wonder if... What, Jim? Honest, you didn't ever shoot a gun? No, no, Jim, no gun. How about it? Would you like to try mine? No, no, Jim. Oh, come on, Steve, it's fun. No, no, you go. I'm old man. Oh, you'd really like it. Well, I'd like you to try. Why, Jim? Well, I sort of think you've got it coming to you. You are listening to John Garfield, his private Jim Hunter Army of the United States in the Blessings of Liberty on the Cavalcade of America sponsored by DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Among these better things are freon safe refrigerants. Freon is now serving the armed forces, and when peace returns, it will be back to quick-freeze your foodstuffs and cool your refrigerator. As our DuPont Cavalcade play continues, four American soldiers are awaiting in a stone farmhouse on the Anzio Beachhead for a dawn attack. Private Jim Hunter, played by John Garfield, is telling the others of the happenings in his life that brought home to him the meanings of American freedom and liberty. It's funny, the things you remember, like that day in 1940. From the minute I got up, I felt excited, and I could tell that my father was even more excited than me. I remember walking down the street with him. I knew every house, every fence, every tree, like the inside of my own hat. But it was like seeing it all for the first time. The people, too. And they looked at me and said hello like I was something they had created in a way they had. By the time we got to the old schoolhouse where we were going, I was feeling pretty important. Everyone we saw was anxious to say hello to ask my opinion and, of course, to give me advice. The last couple of blocks, they were as thick as flies. It's too late now to worry about the presidential vote, I guess. But it's going to be a close thing for old commissioner, and we can't afford to lose that now. Sure, sure, Mr. Nureng. And Jim, I know youngsters like to experiment, but I think it's a bad mistake to start out by splitting your tickets. Take even our candidate for supervisor. It's not what I'd call, well, you know. But still, after all, he's a, well, you know. Oh, sure, Mr. Nureng. I know. You just want to be sure that I vote for the best man. The voting was in a school I'd gone through to the eighth grade. There were quite a few people in the room when we went in. Watchers and people just hanging around. Morning, honey. Good morning, Jim. Morning, Davis. Morning, Mrs. Green. Good morning, Mr. Howard. Hello, Mr. Davis. Hello, honey. Jim. Come over here, Jim. We'll find you in the register. How about it, Davis? Do we let him vote? Hey, come on. I don't know now. You have your certificate? Certificate. Boy, you know the requirements. An authorized statement that you've shaved for three years. I don't know, Mr. Davis. But if you start when you have the hair on your chin, do you stop when there isn't any on your head? Well, here you are, Jim. You sign opposite your name. All right, Mrs. Green. Do you know how to use the machine, son? If you want help? No, thanks, Mr. Ferdy. I'll make out all right. You're entitled to help if you need it. Do you want to go first? Go ahead, Jim. Well, all right. Your turn, Dad. Be right with you. Hello, Mary. Are you going to vote? You know I'm not 21. Whom did you vote for? Oh, the best man. Oh, don't be so cagey. I don't want to tell you how I'd vote if I could. Well, maybe that's why I won't tell you. I don't want to start an argument. So that's it. Oh, hello, Mr. Honest. Hello, Mary. Well, Jim, I guess we'd better get along. Surprise your mother. All right, Dad. I'll see you tonight, ma'am. All right. Bye. Bye, son. Well, Dad, quite an experience, isn't it? Yeah, I guess it is. Yeah, I always say that the voting booth is one place where a man stands alone with his conscience. I guess he does. Jim, just between you and me, who did you vote for? Well, Dad, just between you and me and my conscience, I voted for the best man. I couldn't help kidding Dad, even though he was right about the conscience business, but you can't keep your opinions to yourself forever if you really believe in them. I remember a meeting we had in Adams in the town hall. This one was on the wall. We had a speaker from the State Capitol, a guy from some committee, and he really went to town. Oh, great nation, protecting on both sides by mighty barriers of water. It is unthinkable that we are or ever shall be in the slightest danger of attack. I say to you, let us send our boys to be killed, wounded, to be maimed and crippled and blinded by shot and shell for the preservation of alien governments would be the most appalling crime in our national history. Aye, thank you. Jim. No. Somebody ought to say something. Maybe I... Jim, no. Somebody has to. He's wrong. I know you folks talking up about this outside. There must be somebody here. Oh, yeah. Mr. Chairman. That's Jim Hunter. You can't make a speech or anything, but the speaker tonight talked a lot about not sacrificing our young men. Well, I'm just about the right age, I guess, if we get into the war, so I thought I ought to say something. I think the speech we heard tonight is the same kind of speech the French heard a year ago. They thought they were protected by mighty barriers and mighty barriers, too, like the Maginot Line. People were telling them it didn't matter which side won. Well, they found out different. They found out that when Hitler smashed the churches, the schools, and freedom in his own country, that was just the beginning. That he wanted to smash those same things in every country. Of course, people are going to be killed. But people were killed when we set up democracy in this country. And unless we want to give up everything we won then, we're going to have to fight. Does anyone else have something to say? Mr. Chairman, I want to say something. Mary Davis says the floor. Go ahead, Mary. It's not much. I just want to say it seems to me that we can't... I mean, violence is always wrong. Killing is wrong. Oh, Mary. I mean, as long as America can keep out of war, like the speaker said, I think we should. War is so horrible. Mary Davis says the floor. Go ahead, Mary. Mary Davis says the floor. Go ahead, Mary. I'll go out and talk to her. Mary, wait! You shouldn't have run out. But, Jim, I... I sounded like a fool. But you didn't, Mary. You were fine. Because I really don't know about the war and what's right. I only feel it. Well, Mary, none of us know all the answers. I only made them laugh at me. You see, Mary, that's why I feel like I do about the war. Maybe one of us is wrong or maybe both of us are. But why do we have to fight a war? Because being able to talk is the first thing they take away from us if they got the chance. Jim, I don't want it to happen here. But if there were only some other way... Then what? Then having people killed and crippled. Boys like... like you, Jim. Oh, um... What is it, Jim? I was going to tell you... Jim. I enlisted this morning. You see, Mary, I know it's coming and I want to do what I can. Jim. I have to do it. For so many reasons. So many things. Our town, meetings like this one. All the things that are good. Yes, and all the things that are bad. So that we can keep on deciding how to make them better. Don't you see, Mary? Yes, Jim. I see. It's seven pages in a world omen, Nick. I... I guess I shouldn't have talked so much. I don't know. I think you got something there. Right, Tony? It's undocated me. It must be late. It's almost five o'clock. Okay, so what's everybody else? Come on, make it seven o'clock. Well, here we go. Everybody all set? Yeah, let's go. Well, this is it, Jim. Yeah. This is it. Thank you, John Garfield. This is Garfield, who has recently returned from an extensive overseas entertainment trip. We'll return in a few moments. In the meantime, here is Gain Whitman, seeking for DuPont to tell us how color can help to prevent thousands of accidents. Last year, more than 18,000 industrial workers were killed on the job. And nearly two million men and women were injured at work. The causes of these tragic accidents are so many and so varied that no single overall plan will solve the problem. We must do everything we can. One suggestion made by DuPont will be of value, we believe. This is a standardized use of colored paints. A suggested method of highlighting danger points in factories with colors. The same color, meaning the same thing in every plant. Color talks. Certain colors mean certain definite things to us. For instance, we're all used to green as a go-ahead signal, meaning safety. Red shouts fire to every youngster who has ever chased a fire engine. Since colors do mean certain things, every factory in the United States can put them to work and make them talk safety. Some factories already use color, painted pipes and so on for this purpose. But a standardized color code will enable them to make better use of it. Red, for instance, ought not to be used on firefighting equipment and in the same plant on safety devices. It's confusing. What would happen to you if you drove your car across the border into the next state and found all the traffic signals purple and orange instead of red and green? Yet there are some plants today in which a workman can walk 50 feet from one building to another and step into an entirely different system of color signals. A standardized code might specify high visibility yellow, striped with black, or any spot where a man is after stumble or fall. Red, the shoutingest color for dangerous parts of machines, the inside of fuse boxes and so on. Green to identify safety equipment and first-aid rooms. Red for all fire equipment. Blue as a warning against using machinery that's under repair or ought not to be started. And white or gray to mark aisles, storage places and waste receivers. There's good reason to believe a standardized color code will help prevent many personal injuries. DuPont invites plant executives and safety engineers to write for a 16-page illustrated booklet on the subject of safety color code for industry. Right to the radio section, DuPont Company, Wilmington, 98, Delaware. Ducal and Deluxe finishes, self-cleaning house paint, and many special finishes used in industry have been developed by DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. And now here is John Garfield, star of tonight's Cavalry Day. Thank you. I'm sorry I don't have time tonight to tell you all I saw on our recent trip overseas, but one thing I want to pass on to you, especially to the families of our soldiers, and that is that our soldiers are eating prime beef or wearing grade A leather or getting the best care and equipment of any frontline army in history. This stay owe to you at home, to what you give up, to what you produce. Knowing this, I'm sure you'll sacrifice gladly and produce even more. Thank you and good night. Preston Foster with John Hodiak and Eddie Marr in a ship to remember, a saga of fighting men and their fighting ship. It is the story of the Flatsop Hornet and her crew, which in a shortened heroic career gave Tokyo something to long remember. Cavalcade's music was composed and conducted by Robert Armbrister. John Garfield's star of tonight's play will soon be seen in the Warner Brothers picture between two worlds. This is James Vannon sending best wishes from Cavalcade's sponsor to the DuPont Company out Wilmington, Delaware. We invite you to be Cavalcade's guest again next week when Preston Foster, John Hodiak and Eddie Marr will be heard in A Ship to Remember, a story based upon Alexander Rod Griffin's best-selling book entitled A Ship to Remember, the Saga of the Hornet. For an evening of fine listening, may we suggest that next Monday you tune in your NBC station to hear the Firestone program, Information Please, the Bell Telephone R, and the DuPont Cavalcade of America. The Cavalcade of America sponsored by DuPont came to you from Hollywood, a little blood-gasting company.