 Tonight, Cavalcade brings you a special program in commemoration of Navy Day tomorrow, and in honor of 100 years of Superlative American Naval Ordnance, Ray Radmeral W. H. P. Blandy, Chief of the Bureau of Ordnance, has something to tell all Americans which you will hear as part of our program. To conduct our salute to the United States Navy, we welcome back to the stage of the Cavalcade Playhouse, Orson Welles. Good evening. This is Orson Welles. Being our men and American is awarded the Navy Cross. Doesn't happen often. The Navy Cross is an honor that means something. And a man does get one. His citation sounds something like this. The face of great danger and very large opposition are in keeping with the finest traditions of the United States Naval Service. In keeping with the finest traditions of the United States Naval Service. Tomorrow is Navy Day. So tonight we thought we'd like to talk about our Navy and its traditions. What more about it? How does it talk about that we have a Navy and why? Here it is. I'd say the 13th of October, 1775. In the Continental Congress in session. A motion to equip the swift sailing vessels to carry 10 carriage guns for intercepting such transports as may be laden with war-like stores for the enemy. Well, well, well, what's all that about? A man who wants to fight on the sea against the biggest and most terrible Navy fleet in the whole world. The gentlemen from Pennsylvania. The use of Naval force is quite different from the defense of Boston against unjustifiable attacks. An armed vessel is aggressive. The use it is open to fire. I am clear against any proposition. Mr. Chairman, gentlemen. Is it any more threatening to fight the enemy on the sea than on the land? What craven community is this that would confine our battle to the safe land in the hope that so our commerce will continue unimpeded? Our fight is for the principle. And a principle which will walk the land will sail the seas as bravely. I move the question. I move the question. The vote is taken. Motion is fast. Close, though. Seven colonies, aye, six nay. And so, on paper, we have a fleet. We're 13 colonies. We're 13 flags. 13 colonies, but only one coastline. And where there's coastline, there are ships. And where there is a threat to shipping, there must be a Navy. We take seven ill-assorted merchant vessels. We pierce their wooden sides for guns. We give them new names, Columbus, and Cavett, and Providence, and Alfred. We devise for them a flag. John Hancock. I am John Hancock. What's your business, sir? John Paul Jones, sir. Reporting from my commission. John Paul Jones. Fine, sir, fine. You'll be lieutenant on the Alfred, and, uh, oh, I have another mission for you, lieutenant. Here. Flag. To be the standard of the United Colonies, et cetera. New flag for a new nation. 13 strikes. And the Canton. This is the Rattlington, Carolina, coiled around the Pine of New England. Don't tread on me. We shall break out our flag with pride, Mr. Hancock, and we shall fight as bravely as our cause is just. On John Paul Jones' rote, that flag and I are twins, born in the same hour, from the same womb of destiny. We cannot be parted in life or death. So long as we can float, we shall float together. If we must sink, we shall go down as one. Would you hear of an old-time sea fight? Would you learn who won it by the light of the moon and stars? List to the yarn as my grandmother's father, the sailor. So good to me. Harpo was no skulk in his ship, I tell you, city. His was the surly English pluck. And there is no tougher a truer than never was and never will be. Along the lower deed, he came horribly raking it. We clothed with it, the yards entangled, the cannon touched. My captain lashed fast with his own hand. We had received some 18 pounds, shot under the water, on our lower gun deck, two large pieces, at first at the first fire, killing all around and blowing up overhead. Fighting at sundown, fighting at dark, ten o'clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gale, and five feet of water reported, the master at arms, loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold, given the chance for themselves. Our frigate takes fire. The other asks if we demand quarter, if our colors are struck and the fighting done. Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain. We have not struck, he composedly cries. We have just begun our part of the fighting. Only three guns are in use. One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy's main must. Two well-served with grape and canister, silent his musketry and clear his decks. The tops alone second the fire of this little batter, especially the main top. They hold out bravely during the whole of the action. Not a moment's cease. The leaks gain fast on the pumps. The fire eats across the powder magazines. One of the pumps has been shot away. It is generally thought we are sinking. Serene stands the little captain. He is not hurried. His voice is neither high nor low. His eyes give more light to us than our battle lanterns. And for twelve, there in the beams of the moon, they surrender to us. We won that war, but won our freedom. We still had our coastline. But, peace having been concluded, all naval ships are to be sold or given away. We still had our coastline, and presently Congress heard reports like these. The ship Ohio from New York has been captured and carried into more lanes. The ship Raven of Philadelphia, bound for Bordeaux, has been taken and sent into Laurean. A privateer of the loin has sent into Calais an American vessel, the William. And so we made it official. Being enacted by the Senate and the House of Representatives in the United States of America and Congress assembled, that the President of the United States may be and hereby is empowered to redeem it expedient to cause the frigate United States Constitution and Constellation to be manned and employed. The Constitution. Old Ironsides. I tear her tattered and signed down. Who of us didn't remember those lines and reach down into his pocket for a dime ten cents to save Old Ironsides. Save Old Ironsides and the God of Storms, the Lightning and the Gale. Our growing seacoast needed Old Ironsides back when she ruled the waves. An expanding seacoast meant an expanding navy meant bigger ships meant heavier guns. Heavier guns. Now a ship could stand off a mile or two or even three and toss a ball of metal halfway to the horizon. An expanding coastline was creating a need and the need would climax in an unable battle to change the world. Sea battles. Great names, great stories. The men of war. The Phoenician armed galleys of Tyre and Sighton. The Greek and Persian craft that exchanged the war hug at Salam. The Roman and Egyptian galleys that eagle-like with blood-dripping prowls beat each other at Actium. The Danish keels of the Viking. The mosquito-craft of Abathur, King of the Pelius, when he wailed to vanquish Archangel. The Venetian Genoese and papal pleats that came to the shock at La Panto. Both horns of the crescent of the Spanish Armada. The Portuguese squadron that under the gallant gamma chastised the moors and discovered the Malucas. The Dutch navies led by Ventrump and sunk by Admiral Valk. The 47th French and Spanish sail of the Linus for three months assayed to batter down Gibraltar. Nelson, 74. The thunder bolted off St. Vincent's at the Nile, Copenhagen and Trafalgar. Paris, Warbriggs, Slope, Schooners that scattered the British armament on Lake Erie. The barbaric courtes captured by Bainbridge. The war canoes of the Polynesian King. Tom and Ahama and Pomeri. Virginia Bay and Hampton Road. Virginia Bay and Hampton Road. Remember? The monitor, the melanin. Yes, that sea fight changed the course of things. Yes, sir. I was there. And your name, sir? Dahlgren. Dahlgren? You were in the Navy? Yes, sir. And Admiral? Oh, you do, sir. Admiral John Adolphus Dahlgren. I developed a cannon. Maybe saw quite a lot of it. What cannon was it, sir? Smooth one. Streamline, you might say. And just to give you an idea of how much they thought of what I did. You know, the naval proving grounds they have down in Virginia? Yes. They named them after me. Dahlgren Proving Ground. Of course, they mispronounced it down there. Dahlgren, they say, but still named after me. But at Annapolis, the midshipman's armory called that Dahlgren Hall. And now it's right in Annapolis. That's fine. But people don't remember me. Maybe now if you'll tell us about the new cannon you developed. Well, sir, the guns I developed were mounted on the monitor. I was clever with guns. And the shot three times pierced the Merrimack's cannon. Well, you want to tell us what was unique about your guns? No, no. I don't think it would interest you very much. Oh, no, I'm sure it would. It's complicated by triangulation, calibration, you know, logarithmic formulae. Very mechanical mathematical. They don't think it could be explained. Well, look at it this way. Before my gun was introduced, the maximum range of our naval artillery was three miles. Yes. Now, today, guns shoot 20 miles. Right. Due to a ton of explosives all that distance at that. And your guns made that leap possible. Help? Help. They're a question of ordnance, but don't ask anybody to explain it. Too complicated. I'll take your word, Admiral. We'll just agree that you made a better gun. A better gun. So that tonight in the Solomon's, tonight off the Guadalcanal, tonight in the zigzagging North Atlantic convoys, the men of our Navy, equipped with arms and armor, superlative during the centuries since John Adolph with Dahlgren, may fight in keeping with the finest traditions of the United States Naval Service. Fog. Gray sea. Or mist green. Sun-silvered water. Or storms. Salt and spray. Daylight or midnight. Two bells or eight bells. Tropical sea or Arctic. Antarctic or equatorial. The Navy knows them all. Colossal the Navy. And paradoxical. Perichested in many arms. Yet glinting its gun barrels with astronomical precision and split second timing. Turmbled webbed feet on the open seas. Submarine fins under the sea. Clean wings overhead. Hunting the enemy. Slugging, pounding. Blasting. And all with chores we got with tenders, oilers, tugs, smoke screens. With harbors of marine nets. Mine layers, mine sweepers, torpedo and depth bombs. Heavy chores with endless patrols. And long-breathing convoys. Caravans of the seas. In the Navy you get every snoop full of the sea there is. Carl Sandberg wrote that, you probably guessed it. Yes, we launched a Navy to protect our shores and as our shores grew bigger, there was need for our Navy to keep pace with them. But the day came when our shores had stretched from one to 8,000 miles. The world had shrunk to the span of a long-range bomber. And our Navy has been charged with winning freedom for the waters of the world. Our Navy. Strengthened by a tradition of gallantry that's summed up in the immortal lines of a handful of its leaders. For in each time of battle for each crisis, the captain spoke. The American Revolution for the War of 1812. The Barbary Pirates into the Spaniard at Manila. Their words earned them undying fame. Although at that, you know, I'm not so sure. Oh, excuse me, sir, your uniform is familiar with the name? Perry. Commodore Oliver Perry. What you were saying made me think. When John Paul here, oh, excuse me, shake hands with Captain John Paul Jones. An honor. Good evening. And Captain James Lawrence. Captain Lawrence, sir, glad to see you. If you want me, I'll just be strolling around, good to get a chance to... Well, don't go far, Jim. And this here, this is Admiral Farragut. Good morning, Admiral. And Commodore Dewey. Commodore. All right, do, sir. Now then, as I was saying, it seems a pity that when John Paul here, Jim, Dave, with the Commodore, I went around the world fighting hard and winning, too, most always. We should just be remembered because we happened to say something once, maybe in a little too loud a voice. Now you take me for what I said. We've met the enemy, and they are ours. Yeah. Now there's a stuffy, self-conscious remark for you. I had to be laconic if it killed me. Sounds as though I was trying to crowd the whole thing at one of those ten-word telegrams, and still have room to send President Madison my regards. I see what you mean, but Captain Jones, I don't imagine you object to being remembered for what you said. What? I just begun to fight? Pretty melodramatic, don't you think? Well, what about me? I don't even remember saying what they say I said. Don't give up the ship. Well, sewn on a banner, proud and treasured down to the napple. But we lost the ship. What I said, I can't even repeat over the radio. Oh, what was that, Admiral Farragut? Oh, that's business about torpedoes. Oh, yes, yes, yes, that's right. Full speed ahead. For me, who would have thought this would be because I told my gunnery officer to fire whenever he was ready that I'd be famous. All the natural everyday things to say. As I remembered, I didn't even raise my voice. What, they expect me to send him a note? You see, Mr. Wells, this is the point. It seems unfair that we should be remembered by our countrymen simply because of something we said and not because of something we did. If you're carrying on any investigation into the nature of the finest traditions of the United States Naval Service, we recommend you re-examine the idea of heroism. We wish you'd talk about what kind of a hero it takes to be in the finest traditions of the United States Naval Service. There you have the heroes themselves on the subject. Those captains were the player for the moment's sudden shining battle slogan. Their permanence is the permanence of inspiration for generations of their country's children, and it is good. And it is built on the still harder rock of their solid, deserved fame of fighting men. But without that harder rock, the years might have endowed their heroism with something else, with a false and tricky glitter, a dangerous glamour which is no part of the finest American naval tradition, a glamour which is the proper attribute of the misleader, the undemocratic, the fascist hero. Only war carries all human energies to the height of sanctions and gives this hill of nobility to faithful. Glamorous Mussolini, beautiful hunk of fascist men. One group of horsemen gave me the impression of a budding rose unfolding as the bombs fell in their midst and blew them up. It was exceptionally good fun. Glamorous Vittorio, sportsman son of a sportsman father. Our invincible heir among us will enforce our new order in Europe. Glamorous Göring, his tunic resplendent with ten. War is the father of creative work, the mother of culture, the vital energy and driving force of the life of the state. Glamorous Tojo, who swore to sign the peace in the White House. Democracy's heroes have no need for glamour. Now their traditions call upon sternest stuff. A proven when men and officers put into practice the skills in which they've been trained. Time and chance discover instinctive eloquence, pure, as pure as courage itself. On the board deck of a U.S. battleship, a Navy chaplain is completing divine service. The date? Sunday, December 7, 1941. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen. All men, many a prayer for them. Not so much as a postcard if they were here. Cary, get ready. There's four men who'll be a man for you. Chaplain, you shouldn't be here. Get below it. International law, I'm an uncompetent. Chaplain's not supposed to fight, but I figure this is self-defense. So I'll just take Jerry's place. No time for talking. Here comes another wave of their bombings. Okay, Chaplain, let's go. Hey, look there! It's the Lord Taylor. That's the ammunition. Grave-P or mist-green, sun-silvered water or storm, salt and spray, daylight or midnight, bells or eight bells, tropic sea or arctic, Antarctic or equatorial, the Navy knows them all. Colossal, the Navy, and paradoxical. Perichested and many armed, yet glinting its gun barrels with astronomical precision and split second timing. Turbine web feet on the open seas, submarine fins under the sea, clean wings overhead, hunting the enemy, slugging, pounding, blasting. And all with chores we got with tenders, oil as tubs, smoke screens, with harvest of marine nets, mine layers, minesweepers, torpedo and depth bombs, heavy chores with endless patrol and long-breathing convoys. Caravans of the seas. Yes, in the Navy, you'll get every snoot wool of the sea there is. Thank you, Orson Wells. Next week, ladies and gentlemen, Cavalcade presents Madeleine Carroll in a new play, To A Father's Star. It is based on the career of Amelia Earhart. See with us again next week when Cavalcade presents Madeleine Carroll as Amelia Earhart in To A Father's Star. The poem by Carl Sandberg, heard on this program, is from the Road to Victory exhibition, now being shown at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. The orchestra and musical score tonight were under direction of Don Voorhees. Our script was by Peter Lyon. This is Clayton Collier sending best wishes from Dupont, from New York. This is the National Broadcasting Company.