 We're carrying signal hasso in eye-counter days on the Cavalcade of America sponsored by the DuPont Company. Maker of better things for better living through chemistry. But first, here is Game Footman. Before we begin our play, let me make a suggestion. When you buy rainwear and sportswear, make sure that their water and stain repellency are durable. That the protection won't come out the first time you wash or clean your garment. You can make sure by looking for the DuPont Zeeland tag. Zeeland durable repellent finish, unlike ordinary water repellent, doesn't disappear at the laundry or dry cleaner. Zeeland is one of DuPont's better things for better living through chemistry. Tonight's play is as simple and glowing as the evening star and as true and lasting. Here's what happened when a GI met a refugee Dutch girl in occupied Germany who opened not only her eyes to the future, but her heart as well. DuPont Company presents I Count the Days starring lovely signal hasso as Johanna on the Cavalcade of America. I speak on this high German hill, overlooking a long German valley. I think of Ruth in the Bible who stood in tears amidst the alien corn. Sometimes I want to run home to Holland, like a child to her mother. When I hear the brass-tongue of the bell on the old German schoolhouse, it says a hundred things to me. It says words like, and when I'm alone on the hill like this, thinking of him, the bell says, I'm a smart bummin' abbey, even now with the wall over, there is still no peace. Shut up, Marie. Why don't you be like this Dutch girl? She has suffered much, yet she is not complaining. We are lucky to be on a train instead of walking the roads tonight. I'm lucky. She does not know the meaning of suffering. Look at her young face. The train is stopping. They'll be examination by the military. They probably want to see our papers. Her pretty face is fast-porting up. The soldiers are coming aboard. American. Yes, they're the German soldiers. They are Americans. Soldiers, they are all alike. Keep quiet. Everybody, do not speak. Only answer questions. Okay, everybody, and here stand up. And high like this. Shall I keep this rod on them, Sarge? Forget the G-man stuff, Gordon. Just keep your eyes open. Quiet, everybody. Quiet, I said. This is the displaced person's center under American military government. They're a connoisseur, militareur, a juror. Before leaving the train, we have to examine everybody's travel papers, passports. Wo papier, you're a papyrus. Hold this flashlight for me. Okay. Anybody here speak English? Oh, now, one at a time, bring your papers to me. You. Yeah, you big boy. Come and see here. Vita, my auspac, it's ganz in Ordnung. You better not spazze and get into my auspac. That rainy night last summer on a dark train in Germany, I first saw sweet. We stood at the end of the car like a judge and called out one person at a time. There were perhaps a dozen people. Some of the eternally hunted, the frightening backwash of batters, the rest you see. My heart began to beat through my throat like a hammer when we called into the light. Your next storyline. Don't be bad, we'll just step right up here. You're a papyrus storyline. I, I, I hadn't even my coat if I, if I can find them. Hey, she speaks English. What's your name? Johanna Verbaugh. Johanna? Yes. What does that name make you? Dutch. I have learned English and Amsterdam at the State University. I also speak French and German. You're home in Amsterdam? No, not in Amsterdam. I'm not there for four years now. Going home to your family? I have no family. They're all gone in the war. Could be a bonus, bologna, slick chick, huh Steve? Could be. Where are your papers? They're in here. Here. I put them here in the lining of my coat to save me. Here you are, sir. You don't have to call me, sir. Hold the light here, Gordon. Johanna Verbaugh, Dutch, sent to Germany 1940. Hospital work age 24. It's the first nice passport picture I've ever seen. Yeah, she's really stacked. Paper's okay, Miss Verbaugh. Oh, thank you, sir. Just a minute. Put the light, Gordon. Oh, please. Oh, please. I can't see with the light in my phone. Why didn't you say you spoke English before when I asked? Because I... I... Oh, how do you say it? How do you say it? Well, I... I don't remember the word. I'm friendly. Is that the word? No, no, not unfriendly. Well, certainly not friendly. She's mooching, Steve, scrounging around. Well, I don't know those American words, but I know what you mean, and it isn't true. You hungry? Yes, I'm hungry. There's a box of K-Rations. Hold it. I don't want it. Give it to the others. Mama Mia, a tough guy. See, you'd think we were fraternizing the way she says no. That was Steve last summer, with a war-stealing, stealing his voice. And maybe in his mind some loneliness for home. I only knew I disliked him, all more so much as he'd be a great German soldier. How was I to know that night? He was not the military policeman like the Gestapo, but a man of understanding. Person's centre. Thousands of refugees standing in line for examination, for shelter, for food, for everything. Miss Fabal? What do you want? Take it easy, kid. I'm looking all over for you. I have my papers in order. I know, I know. Look, the captain wants to see you. Come on. You've got my place in line. I'll save it right this way. But I waited here for hours. You're nervous in the service. I don't blame you for being jumpy. Just try to relax a little. But you said my paper... Here, wait a minute. Captain. Here she is, sir. Oh, glad you found her, Sergeant. Miss... Fabal. Johanna Fabal. Miss Fabal, the sergeant told me about you. I did nothing. Please, I... How do you say no smoking in French? In French? It depends on me. In Dutch? Rochem de Bourne. In Danish? Rotting the building. She's hired, Sergeant. Miss Fabal, before these folks burn the building down, spell all those words out for the sign-paters. That was how Steve got in my first work with the Americans. I was an interpreter. Four years I was like a slave in Hitler's Reich. A Dutch girl with a number. And suddenly, suddenly out of the sky, I became a person. I was working by myself to help people like me. But that was only the beginning. Johanna? You ought to learn to take it easy, kid. The war is over. Take my word for it. Yes, I know, but in my mind... I know, the memory lingers on. It takes time. Look, here's your pay. Money? For me? Sure, payday. You work for Uncle Sam now. The Eagle screams today. The Eagle what? The Eagle screams today. Everybody got paid. You too. The Eagle screams today? Where do we go now, Steve? And here, I want you to meet the supply sergeant. Hi, Jackson. Are you coming to trade a rent on something, Stevie? You don't miss for a bow? Sure, the beautiful new interpreter. Hi. Hello, Mr. Jackson. Jackson's not my real name, Mr. Bow. But these... I'll explain it later, Johanna. Look, pal, you know those German military nurse uniforms we liberated from that bear-knocked-upper? Yeah? I know a tailor who... Yeah, I know. You want a size... 14, maybe, huh? Looking at her like that, Wolf, you're drooling. For size, Steve. Besides, how can I judge size? Size 14. And a pair of shoes and some stockings. I'll judge the size. No, Steve, shoes and stockings. Listen, Jackson, could be you want my jeep tonight? Yeah, it could be. Yeah, I do need a little assistance in the transportation department, and I've been given that this stuff Jackson gives. No shoesy, no jeepies. Any kind of English. And all the time, Johanna, I could hardly understand what was going on around here. It was a whole new world. After living in a deep, dark cellar, they threw open the doors and let the sun shine. A party. A folk-dark festival at the Displaced Person Center. Who's the next thing you see? It's my idea. Countrymen of yours, kid. From Rotterdam. Oh! It's the only way to get a complete photo taken. Ken, hey, how's it going? What did you say, Johanna? I haven't heard this since I was a little girl. It's called, it's called, I remember, Holland. Isn't it? How it brings me back. The kitchen in our house, and me, the foreign staff near the river. It would be raining when I came home from school, and I would get in the kitchen by the stove, listening, listening to the rain on the roof. My two big brothers, Pete and Derek, they would come home laughing and arguing, and I would hit my mother's at the table, and my father would come home from working. You see, right? I can see it now. Just how it was. There must have been a lot like my family back home. But they're gone, Pete. All of them are gone. I see so alone. Oh, forgive me, Steve. I don't mean to cry. Johanna, you're not alone anymore. You have friends. I... Oh, yes. Steve, you have been so good to me. It's just the music of home, and the realization of what the past four years have done. Don't look back, Johanna. Try to look ahead. What is ahead for anyone in Europe, Steve? There's the future. The future? You Americans, sir, you say that word so easily. So can you if you try. Just think of the brand new tomorrow. In Europe, the tomorrow looks blacker than yesterday. Well, that's up to you, to all of us. There can be a good tomorrow for Europe and the rest of the world. But we've got to start working for it today. You and I, everybody. Sounds maybe true. But there's nothing I can do. There's a lot you can do. I talked with the captain this afternoon. He says the Colonel has something cooking for you right now. Something cooking? What, does he want us to go to dinner or something? No. No, he's got something very important to tell you. Well, it's a new job. A job that will mean a lot to the future. Sounds exciting, but I'd rather he tell you all about it. Would you go see him? Well, yes, I think so. Good. I'll even drive you there. You mean your little Jeep? Jeep, that Jeep. Oh, very well. I'll go if you say so. Good. Johanna, don't forget. The past we can do nothing about. But we can make the future. The future? I like the way the word sounds when you say it's beautiful. The future. Listening to Signa Hasso as Johanna and Elliott Lewis as Steve in I Count the Days on the cavalcade of America sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. As our second act begins, Johanna learns that the American military government plans to open a school in this little German village, and they want her to teach the German children the principles of democracy. Oh, Steve, that sounds very exciting. That work should be so interesting. And important, too. Right now, youngsters who have money are being taught by their former Nazi teachers. That's bad. Well, of course it is. Youngsters who have no money get no schooling. That's bad, too. So it's up to people like you to teach the German children the Democratic ABCs. Me, a teacher, think of that. And doing something so important. You've come a long way since that night I first saw you. Steve, why are you so kind to me? How should I know you? You help people for a hundred reasons. Why do you look at me like that? I might as well tell you the truth, Johanna. I think I fell in love with you from the first day. I went to work in this office. By some magic, the Americans wrote in books. The windows were fixed, desk, chairs, tables, benches, everything. And finally came the great day. The school was open. Pardon, Kinder. You didn't support Amphangen. Elsa, you begin first with today's lesson. Stand up and read, please. We must have freedom from fear if all men are to have equal opportunities. All men, four-line Bravo? Equal opportunities? Yes, Heinrich. All men. I do not believe it. Heinrich, you must not interrupt. Go on, Elsa, please. To live with hope for themselves and their children. George Washington. He was the first American Fuhrer. No. No, no quote. Listen while I explain again. One of the world's most important dates was 1454. That's when Gutenberg invented the printing press. Heinrich. And men could tell the whole world their new ideas. Thank you, Ernst. Thank you. Heinrich? These crazy Freulines. Stand up, Heinrich. What do you think are the important dates in history? 1919, the Versailles Treaty. 1933, when Hitler took power. And April 21, 1945, when the Americans took our town by treachery. He was the leader in the Hitler Youth Freuline. And even now, with the war over, he tries to carry on Hitler's ideas. Every day he tries to discipline all of us. And if we don't join his movement, he punishes us. I'll take care of you under the home court, and you too, Ernst, or anybody else here. Heil Hitler! See, they're impossible, some of those children. Their minds are twisted. Sure they are. That's why they need you. Yeah, but this boy Heinrich, the Hitler Youth Leader, I've tried everything with him. In the tip of the punishment, the more he says to the others, see, you see, Apollon Verbaugh persecutes me. Take it easy, Johanna. If you lose your self-confidence now, you put yourself right back to that night in the railroad car. But Steve, what can I do? Let me come to school with you tomorrow. I've got an idea. Oh, but... Freuline Verbaugh has told all of you about democracy. Now she wants to show you how it works. Heinrich? Come up to the front of the room, please. You are Freuline? Heinrich. Sticking your heels and standing at attention are not necessary. This is a school, not a barracks. Now listen all of you. I am not going to punish Heinrich. You are. You are responsible for him because he's one of you. I will get him one at a time after school. Not if they stick together, you won't, Heinrich. Class, that is the first lesson in democracy. Alone you may be afraid of Heinrich. And he gets his strength from your fear. But united you have the strength. We are going to hold the democratic triumph. The whole class will be the jury. You are not fair. Right now we've prepared by our rules, Heinrich, not yours. In a democracy, the laws are made and enforced by the majority of the people. Now, as I call upon you, speak only the truth. And have no fear. You're the first to witness yourself. Stand up, please. Yes, Fraulein. Has Heinrich ever compelled you and the others to say or do anything against your will? Yes, Fraulein. When there are no American soldiers, Heinrich makes a salute and say hi Hitler. And if your daughter what he tells you, he punishes you. So Heinrich said to me, even if we did lose the war, our enemies are still the same, aren't they? I asked him, do we have to fight all the time? I said Hitler was wrong. Twas to calm my forehead. You've heard several witnesses. Do you have anything to say? Yes. They are all against me in here now. But wait. I'll kid even. Klar? Heinrich and I and this American soldier will go out of the room. When you have your judgment ready, we'll return. Sit down, Heinrich. Yes, Fraulein. What did the class decide? Sixth vote to leave him alone. Two say nothing. Eighteen vote to keep him out of school one month. If he wants to come back, he will take him. If he makes trouble a second time, he will expel him. The majority rules. You may finish out today, Heinrich. Our second lesson for today is the Bill of Rights. The summer days go by slowly, like a procession of older boys. Then sooner than we thought, autumn came running down the hill. One golden afternoon late October, Steve and I came up to this hill overlooking the town. Steve was reading a long letter from his mother back home. What'll mother write, Steve? All about the family and painting the house. My sister's little boy's starting to kindergarten. Three's attorney Brown. My room is empty. And when am I coming home? How long are you away from home, Steve? It seems like half a lifetime. Three years. We'll be Thanksgiving time soon. The whole family gets together. You and you will be going home, Steve. Why talk about it? Why not? I don't want to leave you alone, you heart. Or I won't be alone. I have been Jackson's gardener. I need it. I need it. Okay, okay. You're homesick, I know. You've been away from America a long time. You've been away from home even longer. You remember you taught me a word? The future? I have confidence in myself now. My grandmother was. She used to tell me how if you put a seed inside a stone, it would grow and grow until the stone cracks in two. Well, Germany's a stone and my school is a seed. Life will go on for me, Steve. Don't tell me you're dreaming, Your Honor. No dream, only the truth. Oh, we have seen too much to talk the chocolate candy kind of love. Your Honor. Don't make any promises, Steve. When we come together again. While you are gone, I'll come today. Winter is here now and the sky is a low iron roof. Steve is home in America. But in my mind I see him here. Walking up the hill to my school. Smiling a little sideways at me. I remember everything. Every little word and I count the days like calling. The future, I think to myself. I've learned to say it like an American phrase. The future when we come together again. Life will begin. Turn to our cavalcade microphone in a moment. Now, here is Game Whitman. The woods this time of year are hushed. Stand still with the trees around you going up to the sky as tall cathedral columns and it's so quiet that the rustle of a single drying leaf is loud. Just such a grateful, reverent hush as that of the autumn woods fills our hearts as we approach this Thanksgiving Day of 1945. There is much, much indeed for which we all thank God. Thanksgiving Day is so tightly woven into the pattern, the very fabric of America, the mere mention of its name calls up sights and scents and sounds that are identical memories in us. Autumn leaves are part of it yet. Maple leaves of trembling fragile gold foil and crimson oak and perfume like no other of leaves burning. Burning in little fires that are warm spots of color along the blue curb in the dust. We think of crackling brown turkey and sweet potatoes cranberry sauce. We do not give thanks alone. The curtains of time draw a little apart and we're joined at table by grandfather and grandmother wearing clothes that look a little strange to us. And by men and women in clothing much stranger still, men in homespun, future buckles, carrying bell-mouthed muskets, the pilgrims. It is no miracle that the pilgrims are with us, so much a part of us, for a pilgrim is one who journeys to a sacred place. And in this land dedicated to democracy, all of us are pilgrims, marching slowly and painfully with many a stumble towards that distant sacred place where all men shall be free and brothers. Our beloved nation has just come through a frightening time of danger and heartbreak, more than our nation was threatened. Democracy itself was under fire. The inspired way of life which grants infinite value.