 The latest weapons coupled with the fighting skill of the American soldier stand ready on the alert all over the world to defend this 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 Stuart Queen. Today we have for you something a bit unusual. It's a play, a little comedy based on the trials and tribulations of a certain young private and one of the Army's hardest working service organizations, the Army Postal Service. Probably there are few Americans old enough to read and write who have not sent or received a letter through an APO, an Army Post Office. During World War II, the Army Postal Service was an operation in 55 foreign countries. It provided mail facilities for military personnel through 800 Army Post Offices outside the continental United States. In one peak month, the service handled more than 266 million pieces of mail, an average of 50 pieces for every soldier overseas. The volume is smaller today of course, but the service's job is still a huge one. It contributes perhaps more than any other single organization to the feeling of so many of our servicemen in foreign lands that they have never really left home. The city of Naples, November 30th, 1944. 200 miles north of here in the vicinity of Bologna, American troops were engaged in a bloody protracted struggle to drive the Nazis from their last foothold in Italy. To this military airfield outside Naples came every day planes bearing a high-priority shipment destined for U.S. troops all up and down the Italian peninsula. These planes brought mail. In the entire encyclopedic catalog of military supplies and equipment is listed nothing more vital to the successful waging of war than a steady, continuous flow of mail to the soldier from his family and friends back home. In war or in peace, this unending chain of postcards, letters and parcels is kept moving by the Army Postal Service from home to soldier and back again. Early in 1942 to handle the flood of communications to and from millions of U.S. servicemen and women, many of them away from their homes for the first time in their lives, the Army Postal Service is actually an extension of the United States Domestic Postal Service operating under an agreement between the military and the postmaster general. The military Postal Service differs from the civilian in one important respect. While civilian addresses are stationary, military addresses usually are mobile. Thus, a major problem of the Army Postal System is following the man for whom a letter or parcel is intended. The soldier may unexpectedly leave the station to which he has previously been assigned to fulfill an assignment halfway around the world, yet mail address to his old place of duty will not be far behind. On occasion, he may even find it waiting for him when he gets there. There was a time when going off to war or to extended duty overseas, even in time of peace, meant years of separation from home and family. What word there was from home took months to arrive. Today, the soldier's tour of duty is short, and though he may be on the other side of the world in a frontline position, he is only a few days away from the familiar corner mailbox. The Army Postal Service working through every available channel will even attempt to get the soldier's mail to him if he's been taken prisoner by the enemy. One of the first items on the agenda at Panmunjom during the Korean truce negotiations was the exchange of prisoner mail. Here a postal officer arranges an exchange of mail with his communist opposite number. Mission accomplished. For the Army Postal Service, as for the regular domestic service, Christmas is the rush season. Prison gifts from loved ones make Christmas for soldiers away from home. It takes an efficient operation to place Santa Claus for soldiers scattered from Alaska to Berlin. By truck, train, boat, airplane, and even helicopter, letters and packages are sped over a far-flung domestic and military system which constitutes the world's most extensive postal network. Mail to Army personnel overseas is bundled through four major postal centers. In New York, Seattle, New Orleans, and San Francisco. In these centers, mail is sorted for shipment to Army post offices, APOs, overseas. A shipment of mail is separated into huge canvas tubs according to its initial destination. Then it is further broken down by individual units and agencies. Although the wartime volume is receded considerably, the amount of mail handled by the Army Postal Service is still huge. In one post-war year, the New York Center alone handled over 35 million pieces of mail in the three months before Christmas. The obstacles, natural obstacles, that is, are considerable. Army men are often stationed in places where mail was never intended to be delivered. Still, it gets there. And if it does not always get there as fast as we would like, it's generally due to circumstances beyond the postal services control. For an addition to natural obstacles, which the service must overcome, there frequently are, well, human obstacles. To illustrate what we mean, let's see what happens in our little comedy. Recognize this street? There's no reason you should. It's just a typical street in a typical suburban community. There's only one thing that sets this particular street apart from the thousands of others just like it. Rudy Weber was born and raised here. Who's Rudy Weber? Well, he used to live in this house. His mother still lives here. She's writing a letter to him. And since you won't be able to come home for your birthday, I am sending a little gift to you. It is something special. I hope you get it in time. Love? It's easy to see that Mrs. Weber loves to write. She does it with such a happy abandon. She's also a very careful woman. Notice how she adds US Army after her son's name. She's not taking any chances. As for the rest of it, now I don't know what it is. Let the post office worry about it. And down the street, just a few blocks from Mrs. Weber's house, someone else is writing to Rudy. This is Ellen. It's easy to see writing isn't one of her strong points. Now there's a thoughtful fellow. He's got a return address on his letter. This guy, Rudy, is nobody's fool. In case you're wondering about that US Army, that's so no one will think he's with any of the other services stationed in this country. Ellen may not be a writer, but there's one thing you've got to give her credit for. You can read her writing. If Rudy doesn't get that letter, it won't be her fault. In downtown Fairchester, someone else is writing to Rudy. Now there's an address. I wonder where they got it. I'll bet they didn't get it from Rudy. I know they didn't. Rudy's been away from Fairchester over a year, but there are a lot of people who haven't forgotten him. He was a carefree, happy-go-lucky kid, the kind you like and don't forget. This fellow won't forget Rudy. Not so long as he has these little reminders, even Mr. Graves has come to know Rudy. Ever since Rudy's left Fairchester, this poor fellow has spent more time on his mail than he has on the rest of the town combined. Well, almost anyway. He doesn't have to do it. He's got a little tray on his desk for just such letters. Maybe he's got a lot of patience, or maybe he figures that anyone who has so many friends must be a pretty good guy. But he's also got a responsible job to handle and only so much time. Even when he's willing to take the time to work on improperly addressed mail, such as Rudy's, he's still got to take care of the regular business of the post office first. If he's very busy, Rudy's mail may stay on his desk for several days before he has time to check and clear it. But Rudy's mail eventually gets off. And thanks to the kindness and patience of Postmaster Graves, it gets the same rapid and efficient service that correctly addressed mail always receives. Before long, it's speeding across the country toward its destination. Even en route aboard the train, the postal work continues. By sorting the mail now, these men simplify the work of the post offices and speed up the mail. It looks like this bundle is destined for Camp Clayton. And while all this is going on, where's Rudy Weber? Here's the post office of Camp Clayton. But you won't find Rudy here. He probably doesn't even know there is a post office at Camp Clayton. Judging from that return address on his letters, he probably thinks Gremlins handle his mail. Wait a minute, maybe we've got Rudy all wrong. Maybe he's got a good reason for wanting to conceal his whereabouts. No, he's not there either. Well, let's look in here. Maybe he no use in even looking. I said no need to look. He's certainly not there. It's just possible. Let's take a look anyway. Ah, yes, there he is. And that's a sociable accession of KP as you'll find anywhere. It always happens when a couple of carefree, happy-go-lucky fellas get together, even if it's only over a pile of potatoes. It gives them a chance to forget the trials of service life and talk about home. They tell each other how different it was. Rudy's just in the process of telling his colleagues about his happy life in Fairchester. I don't have to tell you. She was the most beautiful girl in Fairchester. Wouldn't give him a minute's peace. Now, wait a minute, Sergeant. It's just getting interesting. I hate to break up this happy potato clutch, but the captain wants to see you. Who, me? Yeah, you're a rude doll-baits webber agent. Oh, yes, yes, I'm a webber. Well, then get going. And while you're at it, change your clothes and pack your things. Boy, I'm not going anyplace. That's what you think. Well, it looks like Rudy is going someplace. But at least he isn't going alone. Smile. Webber. Here. While waiting for the truck, fill out those change of address cards. It's a funny thing about Rudy. He hasn't looked at that bulletin board twice since he's been in the company. Now he can't tear himself away from it. All right, the truck's here. Get going. Don't you think this trip is necessary? The same train that's taking Rudy and his friends away is also bringing a load of mail for Camp Clayton. It will go directly to the Camp Clayton post office. Here it's sorted again and made into unit bundles. If it's properly addressed, it will be set out immediately for distribution. If the address is illegible or incorrect, it goes to the directory section for checking. Directory service is slow work, and it takes time. You got a card on Webber? No. No, I better check the orders. He went out this morning. I haven't got time. I've got a mail call in a couple of minutes. Maybe he'll get around to it tomorrow. Rudy's lucky he was just transferred. If this guy had to wade through a pile of orders, well, he doesn't look like the patient type. Rudy's been at the port of embarkation over a week waiting for shipment. And he hasn't received even a postcard. It bothers him. It wouldn't be so bad only. Raddock, caruso, smite. Tough? That isn't the half of it. Today is Rudy's birthday. He's sure his mother and friends didn't forget him. It must be that darn postal service. Oh, well, he can't fight the army, so he might as well forget it. Well, this helps. Too bad he's leaving in a few days. Eight sodas later, Rudy is feeling much better. Well, mentally, anyway. He's found a sympathetic ear for his troubles. He won't be around, but maybe he can write to her. Rudy's a great one for writing letters. Oh, yes, her name and address. Well, Rudy's found some use for those change of address cards he's been carrying around. Might as well put them to use. You say? What is this, a conspiracy? Oh. Most letter mail destined for troops is flown overseas. And that means, if it is properly addressed, it will usually reach them in a matter of days. There may be delays, but that's not often. The mail this plane is carrying will be ready and waiting for distribution days before Rudy's ship reaches port. First, the mail goes to the base post office. Here's what one looks like. It's usually a pretty big place. It has to be. It handles every scrap of mail for the entire theater. Here, the mail is sorted again for distribution to the various units scattered throughout the theater. Some of these units will be large, fully staffed organizations. Others are small, detached groups, with as few as a half dozen men in them. Let's see one of these units. This one happens to be a provisional company at the replacement depot. This is the way the mail's delivered here. It means more work for the unit mail clerk, but it's more convenient for everyone else. They can call for their mail whenever they have the time. Here's one fellow who doesn't seem to care for this system. In Rudy's case, it's, well, it's about time. That's the first letter he's received since he left Camp Clayton. What's the matter, Rudy? No wonder he's so. That explains it. With an address like that, a letter would get to him even if he were sent to Timbuktu. It might be a little late, but it would get there eventually. That was a mistake. He should have kept that address and studied it. No, this isn't a detective. He's just a postal worker at the base post office trying to decipher someone's handwriting. And if I'm not mistaken, that's Rudy's birthday package. It's obvious it's addressed to Rudolph Weber, but that's no answer. You see, there are two Rudolph Webbers in this theater. What's he to do? That's a problem. If it's food, and he's got a hunch it is, he can't send it back to Rudy's mother in Fairchester. He makes a decision, hoping the unit mail clerk will correct him if he's wrong. And of course, this happens. There's the package, all right. And I guess this is the other Rudolph Weber. It looks like he doesn't know anyone in Fairchester, or even in that part of the country. It doesn't take a genius to figure out there must be another Rudolph Weber around. At least it's worth looking into. It took all the resources and ingenuity of the APO to bring Rudy's package this far. But he would have never received it if it hadn't been for the simple honesty of a guy with the same name and a company mail clerk with good sense. I wonder where our Rudy is. Ah, there he is. Dear mom, you won't believe this, but there's a conspiracy against me. I haven't received one letter since I left Camp Clayton. I don't know what you can do, mom. Maybe you can write to somebody and find out why they're holding up my mail. Love. Weber, thanks to the postal directory service, Rudy'll get his mail too. It just takes time. If only he had, well, but what's the use? Rudy's got other things to think about. He's collected quite a batch of change of address card since he left Camp Clayton, and he's put them to good use. At the rate he's going, he'll soon be able to set up a directory service of his own. Caruso. Smite. You. Braddock. Alan. Yes, ma'am. Maine? Weber? Weber. Hey, Weber. Hello, ma'am. Oh, hello. Hello, ma'am. Hello, ma'am. Pavelko? Yeah. Well, how do you like that? Rudy's mail has finally caught up with him. Rudy thinks his letter did the trick. A few days after he wrote to his mother, he got mail, and in spite of his lack of cooperation. Pack securely. Address correctly. Mail early. Send no perishables. This is Sergeant Stuart Queen, inviting you to be with us again next week for another look at your army in action on The Big Picture. 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 United States Army in cooperation with this station. You too 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.