 from Korea to Germany, from Alaska to Puerto Rico. All over the world, the United States Army is on the alert to defend our country, you the American people, against aggression. This is the big picture. An official television report to the nation from the United States Army. Now to show you part of the big picture, here is Sergeant James Mansfield. Welcome to the big picture. Today we bring you the last in our series of programs dedicated to the American combat infantryman, the soldier who proudly wears the blue badge of courage. We will show you a pictorial history of the famous 29th Infantry Division, from training camp to victory, amphibious maneuvers in England, the battle of Normandy, St. Low, Brest, and then the march on Germany. Later on, Colonel Quinn will have a few final words for you about the soldier with the rifle, the man with the blue badge. So now for more about the program, we take you to the office of Colonel William W. Quinn. How do you do, ladies and gentlemen? Today marks the 13th and last week of the blue badge. Consequently, on this program, we'll stress and review some of the points that we've made during the series, as well as honoring the increment of the 29th Division. We plan also to trace for you the evolution of the rifleman from 1776 until the present day. But now the famed 29th Infantry Division, the blue and the gray. And in the Revolutionary War, when the 29th was called the Colonial Militia, General George Washington was our first commander. It took a civil war to team up the blue with the gray. And after that, the North and South became one side, the United States. In World War I, our slogan was 29, let's go. And we went to catch up with the Kaiser. And when World War II exploded, the 29th was on the go again. Believe me, brother, we made tracks because we had a date. But with the equipment of those early days, it looked like we'd never make it. It was 29, let's go, rain or shine. And a 10 minute break felt like a two weeks vacation with pay. It was go, go, go all the time. We sweated it out on land. And units of the 116th wet their pants on amphibious maneuvers in the cold of January, 1942. Then we were ready, we were all set to go places. But nobody told us where we were going. All we knew, we had a date to keep, a business date. Scotland greeted us with music and a heavy cold fog. England looked better in the guidebooks they gave us. English fog and rain in the moors. But the training was strictly American style. 12 hours a day, seven days a week, and no pay for overtime. And if we ever forgot for one minute why we were there, why Jerry would send over his reminder notes every hour on the hour. London, Coventry, Dover, the rich and the poor, the sick and the healthy, the weak and the strong, all received the same pounding from the sky. We had our chance to see what happens to an apartment house when it meets up with the bomb. Then the top brass realized that all work and no play did Joe no good. Oh, we toasted merry old England, drank enough tea and warm beer to float the whole British Navy. Spring was in the air, so were the latrinograms. The date, anybody's guess. But everybody knew we were going to meet up with Jerry soon. Lumps in our stomachs were as heavy as the packs on our backs. Eisenhower said, the eyes of the world are upon you. But each guy inside felt mighty lonesome. We tried to follow each word in that final briefing, but somehow we knew when the going really got rough, each man would have to make his own decision. Over 1,000 planes went in ahead of us, but not just to show us the way. 7,000 yards of steep cliffs and sandy beach, a little summer resort nobody ever heard of. Omaha Beach, June 6, 1944, dawn, D-Day. The Navy laid down a barrage that was heard round the world. The force provided that much needed umbrella. Even with this support, Jerry's steel pill boxes on the cliffs sliced us in two like a butcher's knife. And you can't hide on a flat beach. We graduated from kindergarten that first morning. By the next morning, we had gone through college and got our master's degree by pushing back the so-called master race. It was 29, let's go, and we went. The going was slow, but sure. We had made a date, and we were going to keep it. We never stood still. We moved up to Sand Low, 20 miles covered with blood, sweat, and tears all the way. Julius Caesar fought these hedgerows 2,000 years ago. It was a picnic for him compared to what we took. We dropped leaflets behind Jerry's lines. They read, your leaders have promised you that the Allied troops would not stay even nine hours on French soil. We've been here four weeks, but here was the only language Jerry understood. So we tore into Sand Low with a fury of a tornado. A silent tribute to Major Tom Howey, famed Major of Sand Low, whose See You in Sand Low became our battle cry in that fight. In five weeks, Jerry was blown out of Sand Low. The road was cleared for Patton's 3rd Army Drive on Paris. The last time I saw Paris. For many of us, there wasn't even a first time. We had to leave them behind in Sand Low. The cost? 7,000 killed and wounded. The battle for Sand Low was the bloodiest in the history of the 29th. The boys we had to leave behind were praised by our division commander, General Charles Gerhardt. He didn't mention that we all had earned the Croix de Guerre from the French. The old men took time out for the luxuries of life. This was one time we didn't mind standing online. Almost tasted as good as home cooking. They took care of the inner man and the outer man. A few luxuries, a chance to clean up with soap and hot water, rush up on a little American humor, and catch up on letter writing. Somebody must have read our letters. They answered special delivery. Before we knew it, it was 29, let's go. Our first look at towns untouched by bombs. Hitler had been here before us. We didn't see an able-bodied man. It was with a poor town of breast. The wise boys were saying Jerry was on his last legs. It was only a question of days and he'd be tossing in the towel. They said, but the shells Jerry tossed at us told a different story. They held on to every apple orchard as if it were worth a million bucks. Then it was our turn. We hit them with everything but the ring posts. Not a single pound of Limburger cheese got into breast in one piece. Earl Simpson and Gerhardt were on hand to map out any change of plan. We found out what Hitler meant when he gave the order. Whole breast at all costs for three months. That order cost many a Jerry his future. Our planes flooded them out of their holes with flame. Washed them out into the open, gasping for breath. But the thousands of prisoners we took didn't pay for a single buddy we'd lost in the taking. The newspapers said we were mopping up. But Sherman had a better word for it. Hitler said three months. His timing was screwed. In three weeks, we personally exterminated and caught more rats in this waterfront city than all the quarter masters poison and traps could kill. The plague was cleaned up, 29th style. 13,000 little Hitlers having a lot of fun. Up came the 29th. And then there were none. Just a couple of battle weary boys crashing the act. Nothing was left alive in that skeleton city on that warm September day. The port of breast lay dead before our eyes. 20 feet of reinforced concrete. The submarine pens were made for resistance. Uncle Sam served eviction papers. No more wolf packs could board here. We relaxed with the USO. After a new lease on life, we moved 650 miles across France to another heavy date at the German border. The war had stopped there and was waiting for us to catch up with it. All we'd known so far was hedgerow fighting. But this was Germany, flat and dank, Jerry's own home grounds. And we knew he'd hang on to it. Concealed pillboxes, concrete emplacements. Every kind of man-made obstacle was thrown in our path. We blasted through town after town. Kreuzrat, Birgden, Hotarat seemed like we began every battle in the dead of night. Nobody ever got any sleep anymore. Every man who went into Schirwald and Roth was either killed or captured. Company K of the 115th was completely wiped out. When Company C ran into a crowd ambush, it looked like curtains. But Company B crashed the party just in time and forced Jerry to hand it over. When it was too early to hit the sack, we ambled down to the kitchen and watched them beat up the batter for tomorrow's pancakes. The Rhineland was waiting for a mopping up. And our Air Force were just the ones who could do a little accommodating. 24 hours a day, the Air Force dropped their heavy loads on industry, railroad yards, and marshaling points with pinpoint precision, leveling everything in their path. Settering, where a lot of our Joe's won the Distinguished Service Cross posthumously. Durboslar, the land so thick with mines and booby traps that we learned to take the shellfire standing up. Alden Hopen, Niedermans, it was every man for himself. Every day a counterattack. We fired over 1,700 rounds of smoke in one day. But as one Joe said, if I had to pay for it all myself, it would be worth every penny. Sooner or later, Jerry found himself mixed up with American steel. The heat was on. Each time he looked skyward, he was greeted with the burst of American calling cards. On December 9th, the West Bank of the Roar River was cleared. We hold in from December to February, staring at Eulich from the West Bank of the Roar River. While the First Army pressed closer to Jerry's seven giant dams, we waited out the winter, anxious to finish this assignment. We had our own Christmas Eve. We heard the Jerry voices across the river. Funny, they were singing the same songs. Our guards were alert for enemy patrols day and night. Many an innocent rabbit caught it from our nervous nellies. By February, the Ninth Army had secured the last dam. But Eulich, 2,000 years old, which had known Julius Caesar, Bismarck, and the Kaiser, still lay across the river, untaken. Twice the brass made plans. And twice the river floods changed them. At last, we were ready to roll. We sweated out the command to cross. 23rd was the date we left to give the crowds their roar cleaning. Our smokescreens blew back in our faces. So we gave them up and went for Eulich without cover. Our replacements became old men in the dawn of this new day. 30 seconds of combat is all it takes. The attached truck battalions got tired hauling ammunition and took positions in the gun crews. Those Negro troops earned themselves a letter of commendation that day. We even located the key to the city of Eulich and presented it to General Gerhardt. Jerry was crying uncle. But we were going so fast we couldn't even stop to listen. We took the attack into Munich and Gladbach on the 1st of March. The Nazi mark was branded on the faces of the DPs. And then we had a quick view of the Rhine. Chemical engineers supplied the smoke. Navy supplied the boats. 29th Division supplied the men. We captured the entire German V2 rocket division. And the end was near. And when we met the Russians, it was easy to translate VE Day. Victory is the same in any language. We packed up our medals and our victory. And we put aside our guns and took up prayer books in rooms still hung with Hitler's swastikas. The million and more men and women in our army are instruments of the nation's will for security and peace. Sustained by public confidence, they will succeed, true to the army's proud traditions. They reflect the spirit of our nation. For your army is a part of the people. It is composed of your sons. It is a faithful implement of democracy. And the American soldier. For the American people, my family, my fellows, my sons to come, I carry arms. Remember how I began? Born of explorers, columnists, hunters in deer skins, schooled in the wilderness, fighting for a continent. Remember Concord Bridge, 1775? Here it was, here at this bridge. I fired the shot heard round the world. Then I was the Minuteman, the embattled farmer, the son of liberty, raw militiamen, hardy continental. I was the hope of freedom on the frontier. I carried arms for the rights of man. Remember Valley Forge, I was the winter soldier, starving, marching, freezing, fighting, and praying at night, alone in the snow. Look at my battlefields, Bunker Hill, Ticonderoga, Lake Champlain, Manhattan, King's Mountain and Kalpins, Yorktown, marching, I made America great, north to the parallel 49, south to the Rio Grande, west to the mountains, marching, I made America free, working at peace. I built America, explored with Lewis and Clark, with Zebulun Pike, with Kit Carson and Davy Crockett. 1860, 1865, I was the blue, I was the gray. Marching, I made America free. Marching, I gave America peace. Marching, I found the American spirit. I led the way. I called to America, follow me, follow the American soldier, follow the trail I've laid. I convoyed the wagon trains, moving west, fought the tribes with Custer, rode the Oregon Trail, patrolled the wild American continent. My lonely outpost grew. My camps became crossroads. My frontier forts took root, roads from the prairies into cities. My infantry marching made paths. My cavalry riding made trail. For cities rise, I made the hikes to lay the tides and drive the spikes, uniting my country with rails. I am the American soldier, pioneer, Samaritan, vanguard. Wherever I was needed, whenever I was called, I stood and delivered. I came through. I was America on the march. I'm the regular, strictly GI. I'm the rookie, made soldier. I'm up from the ranks, hell for leather, right on the line, straight from the eye. I'm the rifleman, canineer, trooper, skier, engineer, gunner, scout, signalman, sentry, mechanic, flyer, in the eyes of the cannon, the marching refrain, the brains of the tank, the nerves of the plane. I'm the heart of the shell, the courage of truth. I'm the Liberty Bell. I'm the song of our youth. Your army is not just a man in uniform. Today, your army is part of an active combination of forces for national defense and world peace. And security is not taken for granted. So now, ladies and gentlemen, we bring to a close our blue badge series. We hope that you've enjoyed it, and we hope that you've become better acquainted with the combat infantryman who asked you to look twice at the wear of the blue badge, for it's the mark of a man. The big picture is a weekly television report to the nation on the activities of the army at home and overseas, produced by the Signal Corps Pictorial Center, presented by the US Army in cooperation with this station. You can be an important part of the big picture. You can proudly serve with the best equipped, the best trained, the best fighting team in the world today, the United States Army.