 Words at war. In trench and grade, each man according to his trade, we say, can do. Through burling day and chilling night, we toil and sweat and work and fight for yank and gob. From northern lights to desert sun, in all engagements called upon to do the job. The war is born, the days are long, but brother, do not get us wrong. The crew, with pride enough by foreign seas, and plenty tough, though just sea bees who say, can do. The National Broadcasting Company, in cooperation with the Council on Books and Wartime, presents another program in the widely discussed series Words at War, dramatizing the most representative books to come out of this great world conflict. Tonight's dramatization is based on William Bradford Huey's stirring tale of the Navy sea bees, can do. I'm standing on 34th and 6th in New York. First time I've ever been here. I'm still in uniform, but there's a discharge pin in my pocket and I'm looking up. You have to see the Empire State Building to really know how big it is. 102 stories of steel and stone that puts a crick in your neck after a while looking up at the top. But you know I've seen jobs that took a lot more doing. Yeah, when they built the Empire State, nobody was popping at them with guns. In the sea bees, it's part of the work. And when the work is done, you don't look up into the clouds at it. Most of the time, it's right down at your feet. Maybe it's an airstrip. Maybe it's deluxe foxholes. It doesn't sound like much, does it? No, it's nothing. Nothing at all. But loud us, the Navy would be in one sweet hole. Ask the Navy, they admit it. And why not? We're in the middle of the hottest air war, sea war, et cetera, et cetera war. But it's also history's greatest construction war. Before any of the glamour boys fly high or become expendable in a PT boat, somebody has to do a lot of building. The sea bees do it for the Navy. And this is how the war feels to the sea bees. At first, there were no sea bees. No construction battalions. No sea bees on December 7th. But there were thousands of darned good civilians working for the Navy. Guys like Dan Teeters and his crew on Wake Island, they found out why civilians were ducks out of water when the chips were down. You wanted to see me, Jim? Yeah. There's no time for talk. It's about your wife. My wife. Someone's shooting his mother. Hey, Dan, you're a very charming wife. So what? As the only woman on Wake, well, she's become a sort of barometer. You know what I mean? Look, I'm a busy man. I'm coming to the point. Your crew's been doing a lot of talking about mysterious planes, haven't they? Mysterious, my eye, they're jabs and you know it. Maybe they are, but we have no proof. Okay, but how about the ships we keep seeing? Never answer identification requests, do they? Do you wonder why my men are worried? If you were in my place, Dan, what would you do? Break out the rifles, one to every man, assign a couple of instructors. Impossible. If something did happen, you could be executed under the rules of war. Now look, Dan, just as long as your wife stays on the island, the men figure nothing is going to happen. Do you agree? Yeah, but what... I want you to ask your wife to take a walk every day. A walk? Why? Well, her walk, she used to be inside of the men. A half mile a day, she'd do the trick. It would cover most of the construction area. Well, what about it? Okay. My wife's walking will keep trouble away, then she walks. She could use a little exercise anyway. Been putting on some weight lately. You know what happened at Wake? When the jabs came in, the civilians couldn't fight. And didn't. No matter what the movie said. The men in there, the Navy decided to form the Seabees, and the call went out for men who wanted to build two roads. I rode across the Atlantic to Berlin, and went across the Pacific to Tokyo. 100,000 men answered the call. Timberjacks, capskinners, dock wallopers, sand hogs, mountain movers, straight spinning characters from everywhere. They're the oldest men in the service, averaging 31 years. And when they hit Guadalcanal and met the Marines. This was okay. Yeah, sure, chief. You men ready? It was a steady dive. The Jap planes provided the spice. And they got all the figures, boys? Yes, sir. There's all seven fighters yesterday. Did you see it, sir? Yes, of course. Their bombers come over while our fighters get after them. One or two bomb the strip. And our boys use up their fuel supply and crack up when they come in for a landing, and what kind of bombs are they using? I have that. 500 pounders. How much of a hold is a 500 pounder tear in the steel mat? Just about 1600 square feet. That's the only type of bomb they use? So far. It's a cinch to replace torn matting, but the crater below is another thing. Tell me, how many loads of a two and a half ton truck will fill the hold? It takes four. Four. Well, then we'll get units of four trucks, cover near the strip. Every man will dig his fox hole along the landing area. If the nips come down to strafe, there'll be a hole not far away. Sounds good, sure nice. Well, in my book, we should be able to fill a crater in 40 minutes. Our planes can stay up above in an hour. The raid never lasts that long. So that gives us plenty of time. 40 minutes. 40 minutes or less. It was less. I asked Lieutenant Al Pratt what it was like when the nips replaced their planes with artillery from the hills. Shell craters are more dangerous to work on than bomb craters. You have a feeling that no two bombs ever hit the same place, but not shells. A good old Jap trick was to give us just enough time to start repairing a hole and then fire a second shell. All you can do is hope you can scramble away before it goes bing. It's a gamble, but I understand that this kind of gambling doesn't go over big with the insurance companies. The work on the canal went on. Good men died, but the strips were built. More than half a million feet of signal wire laid and operated. Roads, bridges, submarine cable, warehouses. Everything needed to turn the canal into a real base. And the Marines? Well, they put up a sign that shows what they really think. So when we reached the Isle of Japan with our caps at a jaunty tilt, we'll enter the city of Tokyo with a big base built. Eleven months later, we were reaching up the slot of the Solomons for the big Jap air base of Munda on New Georgia Island. We hit Randova within shelling range of Munda. It rained. It rained for eight days and nights. It seemed like the Pacific Ocean was over our heads being let out through a million sprinklers. We didn't look like men. We looked like slimy frogs. When the mud came up to our knees, all of our clothes, clothes ain't no good. I tried to dig a foxhole at night. As fast as I moved the mud to water came in. Boy, I never want to take a bath again. When this is all over and it's bound to be someday, I'm going to build my house in the desert. The Japs kept bombing us at Munda while we unloaded one of their bombs hitting the ammunition dump. Before everything went sky high, and the guy nearby was trying to light his cigarette. I remember laughing at it. After the ground stopped shaking like jelly, I looked around for him and I didn't laugh anymore. About ten feet away, there were two hands laying close together. That's all that was left. Just two hands. The left one held a burning cigarette. And that's how the CBs helped take Munda. Give a CB a pair of pliers and a roll of baling wire and nothing you can do with it. In August 1942, 40 CBs came to Kissy Flats, West Africa. They called themselves the dirty 40 and they were the first CBs to serve on the other side of the Atlantic. There were docks to be built and little equipment to do it with. The British were skeptical. I say they're Lieutenant. Oh, hello there. You really aren't serious about working today? Why not? It's not raining. It's pretty hot, huh? Terrible. Do you expect your machinery and tools to arrive soon? Well, that all depends. Depends? No. Depends on what? On the German U-boats. There's too many of them between us and the States. Oh, then you're really joshing me. You're going to wait, eh? Sensible thing, eh? What was this heat? Nope. You aren't? Nope. I think you better come with me, old man. A cool wrinkle makes you feel much better. We're going to use that. Oh, but that's a steam driver. It can only operate from shore. We're converting it to compressed air. Then we'll put it on a barge. You're a very enthusiastic young man, Lieutenant. I don't like to dash your hopes. But even when the driver was in operation, it wasn't very successful. The harbor floor is a volcanic lava. Most of the pilings snap off. Well, we know that. So I've got the boys capping the logs with iron. Even lava can't stop iron. That's clever. Just isn't enough. Well, let's have that drink, eh? Oh, thanks, thanks. But I have to stick here. I'm waiting for some new workmen to show up. Natives. They can't make natives work in this heat. They have more sense. It's just a little American magic. These. Cigarettes? The natives have smoked cigarettes for years. Not this kind. These contain menthol. Didn't you hear the drums last night? Then they started pounding away at the drums. They said, come to work. Come to work. Good, good. Make you feel good. See? Magic. Oh, Roth, they won't come. Ah, that's what you're wrong. There's about a thousand of them out at the barracks right now. My men are having a hard time picking out the strongest. I say, really? I'm going over there. You want to see for yourself? Hey, what's the matter? Do you want to go to the gym park and obtain some of your methylated cigarettes? On then lease? Before we leave the dirty 40 at Kissy Flats, I think you'd like to know that Seabees are shrewd, Yankee businessmen. They don't fall easily for a so-called bargain. Ha, ha. Last week an old chief tried to rope me into buying his daughter for eight bucks. But she wasn't my type. So then he says he'll sell me his son's wife, cheap. I nixed that one, too. And then I'll be hanged if the old coot went up and offered to sell me his own wife. If those gals were smart, they'd get together and have some ceiling prices set up. They're getting broke now, no kidding. Solerno was no grab bag. The juries were waiting for us. And they were liquored up with 88s, dive bombers, machine guns and all the rest. We claimed with the first American vehicle to land in Europe as a CB bulldozer, driven by Ray Calhoun of Troy, New York. I came down the ramp and rolled up the beach about 50 feet through the mine markers and then I cut to the left behind a small tractor which had been landed in a small craft by the commandos. And just at that second, the British tractor hit a mine. It just disintegrated, killing the driver. And something seemed to grab me by the pants and pulled me out of the dozer, twirl me around a couple of times and plump me on the beach. Lucky I didn't break my neck. The worst sight that I personally saw was on Solerno Beach. The British Hampshire had cleaned out an area and decided to have some tea. I ain't coming out of a spot of tea with us. Oh, thanks, I'll be glad to. They had a fire going and the water was boiling. If you forgot about the shelling, you might have thought that Tommy's were having a picnic. I started walking toward them and then I got up. The glass knocked me flat, but there wasn't a scratch on me. The Tommy's had built their fire right over a landmine. I walked over. They were all dead and mangled. Tea was scattered over a wide area. I haven't been able to drink tea since then. Jim Hectorhoff was a big farm boy from Iowa. And Jim died at Solerno. A burial detail found him and we looked at him. Bob Russell was there. A Boston blue blood about 50 years old. Finished in the same class as Senator Ed Saltonstall of Massachusetts. There's life for you. A fine young kid like that gets knocked off in the run-in. Why blame yourself? I'm not. I'd sort out the Germans. The Germans can bomb me, torpedo me, shell me and grenade me in two wars. With a soul codger like me and they can't kill me for nothing. And a good kid like this, justice. It's funny how some things stick with you. Perhaps they're not important to winning the Italian campaign. Maybe it's just wishful thinking. Maybe it's because I don't want to see Jim Hectorhoff lying on the dirty wet sand. I don't know. But as I left Solerno, I remember a load of Italian prisoners riding in the first amphibious trucks they'd ever seen. And how, when the duck headed suddenly out into the water, the prisoners jumped up and crossed themselves. Then sat down expecting death in any moment. I can't forget a young seabee, one of our youngest, who was looking down in the mouth. No, I'm all right. Come on, get it off your chest. I'll listen. Be glad to. The folks came from around here. Since I was this big, they've been telling me what a good thing the states are. But they figure Italy's good too. At least it used to be good. You understand? Sure. Italy is good. But the states are better. Yeah, that's it. They never wanted to come back, but we used to sing songs about Italy. All about the girls dancing on the grapes Sure, kid. Sure. My old man sings Irish songs. It's okay. My mom and papa. They're good folks. Americans. They must be. Always laughing and singing. Papa used to say it's good to laugh. It's healthy. It is good medicine. Best there is. They didn't want me to go. Is that what you wanted to tell me? Yeah. But I'm their only kid. You understand? Mothers and fathers are the same. They want their kids with them. It's natural. Even when they have more than one and they're grown up. You mean that? I wouldn't string you along. I know they're proud of it. Proud of anybody on the whole block. I've been getting letters. The neighbor next story, he writes them. Papa still goes to night school, but his English ain't so good yet. He says he wants me to fight hard and all that. But it's only a letter. Maybe he's just saying it. Not going to get a headache, figuring and figuring. You don't have to kid. Look. Do you think my folks wanted me to go off and get killed? No. Americans don't look for trouble. But once it comes, we face it. Some can't see it right away and we wait until trouble clips us on the chin. But that doesn't make us bad Americans. Just a little sleepy. Old folks, particularly. They'd like your back. Sure. But they're proud anyway, like you said. I'm glad. My pop's got a head in his shoulders. You know, in the last letter the neighbor wrote for me. Do you want to know about it? I'm listening. Well, Pop said that I'm fighting so that people can laugh. I never figured it that way, but Pop says that if people laugh, they won't get sore. There won't be any more wars. That's not crazy. No. Makes sense. Pop says that the reason I'm fighting is because some guys are trying to keep everybody else from laughing. That's one way to put it. I think it's a good idea to make people laugh. I guess the guys who use the big words won't like it, but I'll go along with Pop. I'm going to kill Jerry, so that people can laugh. I like it. I like it too. CB's go for the lighter side of life. They don't shut their eyes to the war and what it does to their friends. They remember it, but they'd rather talk about something else. Like what happened on a certain Pacific island, the natives were mopping up a few jabs. They found a goat which the jabs had brought in. It was a strange animal to them. They went to their chief to find out whether they ought to kill the goat. What manner of beast is it? Very strange majesty. He has fierce eyes and long horns, shaggy beard. Will eat anything and stinks terribly. The animal must be spared. Do not kill him. He is what the Americans call a CB. My last stop before the states in the discharge was where the CB's on at too. And that's where I heard the story of Ito. Ito the enemy. Ito the Jap. He and another Jap had tried to commit suicide with grenades held at the stomach. Ito's was a dud but his pals wasn't and the blast shattered Ito's leg. He lay there in the aptu tundra until a couple of CB's came along. He's a lousy mess. The one over here is finished. I think this guy's still alive. Then we'd better take that grenade out of his hand. Yeah. I got it. See, I told you. Oh. What do we do with him? Knock him off. No, let's take him back. Not me. I'm not going near that leg. That's gas can green. Oh. The CEO will be glad to get a prisoner. So what? This guy won't last out the day. We might come around for a few hours and go ahead if you want to. Well, I never killed a guy like this. Getting a conscience? Well, he's a Jap, ain't he? It's just that... He can't fight back, huh? Well, he'd knock me off if I was laying there like him. Yeah, but you ain't. All right. I got a conscience. Let's take him back. But I don't want to touch his leg. Well, don't worry. We'll put him on these boards. You don't have to touch him. But unless you got a code, you're sure gonna smell him. They brought the shattered piece of nipon back to the LST. Doc Stimson looked at him. Kovitz and McCroskey, pharmacist mates looked at him. The anti-aircraft gunners looked at him. Then Doc Stimson left to get the operating room ready. In the meantime, Ito had come around and fearfully answered the questions of the intelligence officer. Oh, what is your name? Ito. What is your rank? I am a private in the Empress forces. Have you ever seen Americans before? No, but I've heard of them. What have you heard? Americans torture and kill our business. Who told you that? My officer. Do you believe it? Yes. Then why do you think you are here? Our men could have killed you when they found you. I was brought here for torture in machine. What machine? Machine that will cut off my ears, pull out my teeth, and then cut me into million, million pieces. That is why you try to kill yourself? Yes, but God's help me in this favor. I see. Would you believe that we are trying to save your life? No. Americans torture and kill our business. Anything of interest? Oh, no, not much, Doc. His name is Ito, and he's convinced that we're going to murder him. Yeah, it will be a murder if he lies here much longer. I'm trying him over the time. Yeah, I'm perfectly sure. I didn't try not to save no chance. Cut it out, get back your post. Yeah, help me with it, will you? Last one? Given. Doc, I know how you feel about this, but that's American blood he's got. I know. Maybe it's more than he's worth. Somebody gave that blood for us. Anesthetic? All said. All right then. It's careful. I said it's careful. Do you hear me? It's careful. I hear. Retractors? Doc, I... I don't feel so good. Insubordination if you leave. Give me the saw. It's finished. You can remove the straps now. America. America. Take them away, boys. And throw that leg over the side. Well, I'm gonna be sick, but I'll do it. There was a lot of grumbling up on deck. The guys felt the doctor to cut it off right up to his chin. But when Doc came out, every man straightened up, and the look in their eyes was one of pride. Pretty soon, Ito was an institution. The boys gave him cigarettes and chocolate bars. And when Ito caught sight of Doc, he'd grab them around the legs, and yell if he wanted to go to Amarico with him. Finally, I managed to get Doc alone. That's like this. If I'd been armed in the spot at Ito, I might have finished him off. He could have had another grenade. But the man who found him didn't kill him. Maybe he was soft, but probably it was for military reasons. Prisoners are usually worth great risks. The Navy could do nothing less than give him the best we had. When you operated, did you do as good a job on Ito as you would have done on an American? Of course. Naturally, I'd feel more emotional over one of our men, but I couldn't have worked more carefully on the captain than I did on that jab. Ito seems a different sort than most jabs. I'd say that his crude effort to show his gratitude is a hopeful sign. It might work with the whole Jap nation. We have to destroy the most diseased portion. Then, because we must live in the same world with them, we ought to help restore the remainder to physical and mental health. There aren't many who agree with you, Doc. I know. That's what I believe. I'm back in the States now. A discharge pin in my pocket is hard to swallow. But the boys are carrying on as always, and that makes me feel swell. The CBs have only one request to make. When they land in Tokyo, they want to roll down the ramp of the first landing boat. They want to drive through the rubble of Japan's Fifth Avenue. And then after they've paraded through Tokyo, the CBs want to go back down to the beach and welcome the Marines. Tonight on Words at War, we've brought you a dramatization of William Bradford Huey's stirring tale of the Navy CBs can do. Steve Allen adapted the book for radio. Chuck Webster was the narrator. The music was arranged and played by William Meader, production garnet garrison. Next week, Words at War will present the radio dramatization of the recent novel of Italy. Tomorrow we'll sing by Elliot Arnold. This series of programs is brought to you in cooperation with the Council on Books and Wartime by the National Broadcasting Company and the Independent Radio Stations associated with the NBC network. This is the National Broadcasting Company.