 The Cavalcade of America, sponsored by DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry, presents Wendy Barrie and Alfred Drake in Dear Funny Face. Before we tell you about this evening's play, here's an unusual illustration of how chemistry is contributing to the war effort. Whole war plants these days are being built of wood instead of steel. The wood is treated with a DuPont chemical CZC, chromated zinc chloride. Wood so treated is fire retardant, keeps out termites and lasts from three to ten times longer than ordinary wood. Tonight we tell the story of an American boy, one of thousands serving in the very newest arm of the United States fighting forces. The CB is officially known as the Navy's construction battalion. At the end of the program, we will have the pleasure of hearing from Captain John R. Perry, Civil Engineer Corps, United States Navy, who is in charge of CB personnel. Cavalcade's play tonight is Dear Funny Face. It was especially written for this performance by Paul Peters and stars Wendy Barrie of the motion pictures as Jean and Alfred Drake, leading man of the Broadway success, Oklahoma, as Larry, on The Cavalcade of America. Dear Mr. Editor, you say you want a long letter from me so that you can tell the readers of your newspaper just what kind of a man Larry Bleak was. There isn't enough paper in the world to tell what a wonderful husband I had. I have, not had. For in spite of the newspaper stories and the telegram from Washington, I still believe that Larry is alive. Yes, I know he is. I feel it as surely as I feel the sun on my head and the wind on my face. If only you knew how close we were, you would believe it too. I was 19 when we first met. He just turned 21. He was on a boat ride up the Mourney River. Look, Chris, if you talk less than concentrated more on your feet... Well, frankly, Jean, I don't know how to walls. Oh, I guess it's no use, beautiful. Oh, say, there's a guy who can walls. Where? Over there by the door. That lonesome-looking Romeo. Come on, I'll introduce you to him. Oh, but Chris, on a wall... Oh, come on. Hi, Larry. Here's somebody just dying to walls with you. Hi, Chris. How do you do, Miss... Sutherland. Jean Sutherland. This is Larry Blinker. Now, make a nice curtsy to the gentleman. I don't see how I can make a curtsy when I'm picked up bodily and dumped in his arms. Go on, he likes it. Come on, say you like it, you sap. Well, on second thought, maybe I do. Holy smoke, maybe, he says maybe. Well, he's honest anyway. Boy, is he honest. All right, you kids, it's all yours. Shake it. I'll keep it on the sideline. Oh, uh, and beautiful. There's no use trying to get him to marry you. He's in love with a truck named Lizzie. A what? Name Lizzie? A truck. A Mack truck. I call her Lizzie. Oh. Did you get this rhythm in the trucking business? You mean heavy? I mean smooth. Like rolling down a nice long road. You're no slouch yourself. Almost as good as Lizzie, huh? That's no mean compliment, lady. Thanks, I'm flattered. Why don't you want to marry? Why do you want to know? You certainly are honest. Blunt's the word for it. Well, I'll tell you. Down in her heart, that's what every girl thinks when she meets a man. Is this the one I'm going to marry? What's the answer? This time I'd say no. All right, I'll tell you. Right now I own a truck named Lizzie. One truck, but one truck. Someday... Someday I'm going to own 50 trucks, 100 trucks. After that I'll get married. And I can have a house of my own and money to educate my kids. And my wife can be proud of me. That's three things I know about you. You're honest. You're ambitious. And? You can waltz. Maybe a woman could help you. How could you help? Four. You're conceited. A woman. Well, when you're discouraged, she'd cheer you up. When you're in trouble, she'd comfort you. When you're in doubt... I'm not given to doubt. When you've got a swelled head, she'd bring you down to earth. With you, I suspect that would be her hardest job. You certainly make it sound inviting. That's five. What? You've got a redeeming laugh. Where's Chris? What do you want him for? He may be heavier on my toes, but he sure is easy on my pride. You're not so bad at slugging yourself, lady. When am I going to see you again? Do you think Lizzie can stand the competition? I'll tell you what. I'll introduce you to her. She likes you. We'll go for a ride. All three of us? Oh, her night. I'll call for you tomorrow at eight. Don't think I've ever met anybody quite as cocky as you before. Cocky? That's number six. We're getting to know each other bit by bit. Two months later, we were married. At first he was headstrong. Oh, but I loved that man as I never loved anybody in my life. And I was patient. And Larry changed. He remained as sure of himself as before, only more flexible or tender. For a year, we were incredibly happy. About three months after Pearl Harbor. Hey, Jean, look who I brought home to dinner for you. Who is it? I have beautiful... Why, Chris, I haven't seen you since. Don't tell me. Makes me feel old. You're in luck. I got veal cuts at the dinner. Cheese and tomato sauce. Ah, beautiful. You're wonderful. And to think that I had you in my hand and threw you away on a guy in love with a truck named Lizzie. I've got two rivals now. Lizzie and Kitty. Kitty? It's an eight-wheeler with a high-class Pearl. I've got my eye on a third one, too. That's what I want to talk to you about, Chris. Oh. Well, I'm afraid it's too late, Larry. Why, too late? I've enlisted. Oh, Chris. What do you want to enlist for? Oh, don't you read the papers? There's a war on, you know. Soldiers, bing-bing, ratatata. You know, Army or Navy. Here, read this. Build and fight with the Sea Bees. What's the Sea Bees? Sea Bay Construction Battalion. Mechanics, carpenters, electricians, welders, draftsmen, surveyors. These are the type of men the Navy wants. Mechanics? That's you and me, Larry. Hey, wait a minute. You'd be Chief Petty Officer in no time. 126 a month. Will you shut up? What's the matter, beautiful? You know what's the matter, so don't play innocent. What are you afraid of? I'll look, Chris. When the Army wants my husband, they'll draft him. That's what the draft is for. I haven't any romantic ideas about war. I'm not itching to see Larry in a uniform before he has to wear one. So don't go putting ideas in his head. You used to be gamer than that, Jane. Never mind what I used to be. Well, maybe I better shove off. I got lots to do in the next few days. Oh, you can stay for dinner, can't you? Oh, some other time. Well, so long, you love birds. See you in Berlin. Oh, uh, what are you gonna call her? Call who? Truck number three. Well, she's slightly used. I thought I'd call her hand me down. Okay. But don't forget, the next one's Christina after me. Let's eat, shall we? Hm? What'd you say, Jean? Eat, eat. You know, food. Those good cutlets. Yeah. But Chris went and unlisted. Come on, Mister. Sit down before everything gets cold. Okay, Mrs. Okay. Fallon? Yeah, thanks. That was a cute design, wasn't it? What design? On that CB book. The B with a sailor hat and in his feet a monkey wrench, a hammer, and a Tommy gun. Aren't you going to eat? Sure, sure. When are you going, Larry? Wait a minute. Who said I was going? We promised to be honest with one another, remember? We have, haven't we? And this is no time to stop. All right. Here's the way I figure it. This is going to be a long war and a tough one. Sooner or later, they'll get me anyhow. So why not join up now when I can choose the place I fit in? Simple as that, see? Yeah, as I see. How soon, Larry? Well, as long as I'm going, I thought I might as well go with Chris. You know, you're smoking about it, isn't it? No. Get it over with fast. Don't you think that's a good idea? Yes. Honey, you're not going to cry, are you? Don't be silly. No matter where I go or what I do, there's one person I'll always be thinking of. You know that, Jean. Yes. Don't sound very enthusiastic, honey. What do you want me to do? Cheer? Because I'm losing my man? I want you to be proud of me, Jean. That's what's in my mind day and night. I want my wife to be proud of me. You fool. You big, chump-headed fool. I'm so proud of you, I think. I think I'm going to cry. I saw them off at the railroad station a week later. The two of them. Somehow I never expected much from Larry and the way of letter writing, but once he was stationed at the Navy Construction Training Center, to my surprise he wrote me every day. Not mushy letters. Simple one. But his feelings were there in every line. One night... Hello? Long distance call for Mrs. Larry Bleaker. This is she. Norfolk, Virginia on the wire. Go ahead, Norfolk. Is that you, funny face? Oh, Larry. Larry, are you well, darling? Are they working you hard? Listen, Puss, this is costing me $1.68 to three minutes, so skip my health. It's perfect. I got your letter. Did you? I sure did. Say, what do you mean you're not going to sell the trucks? I'm going to run them, Larry. What do you know about running a trucking business? Well, I can learn, can't I? You've gone off your chump. I've got to learn, Larry. I just bought hand-me-down. You what? I bought hand-me-down for $3,200. That's $300 less than you were going to pay for it. Well, how's... You're forgetting something, aren't you, mister? What am I forgetting? There's a war on. This country's going to need those trucks, and I'm going to keep them moving. Now, do you want to make something out of it? Larry? Larry, are you still there? Are you mad at me? How's her engine? Oh, honey, she runs like a cat. All motion and no sound. She does, huh? Your three minutes are up, Norfolk. If you wish to continue, you'll have to... All right, all right. Do you want to know something funny face? What? I'm proud of you. Oh, Larry. Norfolk, your time... Yeah, yeah, I'm hanging up. And funny face... I love you. Oh, that makes two of us, Larry. Two of us. It came a time when, for weeks, I had no letters at all. Suddenly, there was one. But that strange post office number in the corner of the envelope made me shiver. Reading it was like hearing Larry's voice at every word. Dear funny face, I can't tell you where we are, but maybe you'll get the idea if I say that not even a movie star would wear a sarong up here. The weather doesn't go much under 15 below, but when that wind starts blowing, it makes Toledo in the wintertime look like Miami Beach. You know, funny face, I thought I knew the whole book on mechanics, but I guess I'm still learning. I'm taking everything apart. I can't find it and putting it together again. Better than before. The joke is, my commander likes it. He says, Well, you see, Blinker, we're the toolkit of the Navy. We have to know all the trade. We move in with the task forces, make airports for the hangars and barracks, run the waterworks, repair engines, construct bridges, assemble generators. Fighting is the easiest thing the CBs do. Some order, what? Funny face, when this war is over and I come home to you, I'm going to be able to make a truck better than hand me down out of your waffle iron and a batch of Bobby pins. Last week, we were working on pontoon ribbons. They're big steel cans, five by five by seven feet, sometimes used for storing oil and gas or for floats when empty. Well, I took a look at those cans and said to the commander, I understand, sir, that if you put about 20 of those pontoons together, Yes. Well, you get an oil lighter or a landing pier. I see, the use and the serve. Yes, sir. Then, if you'd attach a sort of outboard motor unit, You'd have a self-propelling barge. That's what I heard some fellow in the CBs did, sir. How'd you hold those pontoons together? That's easy, sir, angle irons. Angle irons? Where are we going to get angle irons up here? Make them in the forge. But you can't put rivets in those cans. We've got welders in the battalion, sir. Okay, yeah. We could weld them on. That's just what I was thinking, sir. You're pretty clever, Bleecker, aren't you? Yes, sir. And you know it, too? Yes, sir. All right. We'll try it. You'll be supervisor. And you know what, funny face? We did. And it worked. Yours always, Larry. Yes. I've got a new rating. Machinists made first class. $136.80 a month. Maybe you better start looking around for Christina. PPS. You funny face. Just wait till I get ahold of you. You are listening to Wendy Barry and Alfred Drake in Dear Funny Face on The Cavalcade of America sponsored by DuPont. After a year of married life, Larry Bleecker has left his young wife Jean and his ambition to own a great fleet of trucks to join the Navy's construction battalion, the CBs. Jean, much to Larry's surprise, has decided to carry on the trucking business. I don't need to tell you, Mr. Editor, how I felt when news came that the Japs were holding Kisco in a tomb. Or months later when our Alaskan forces struck back. For weeks while the headlines told of bitter fighting. I waited. Waited and watched the casualty columns. And then one day there was a letter. Not from Larry. A different handwriting. Familiar, but not Larry's. I ripped it open. It began. Dear beautiful. Then I knew it was from Chris. I know Larry won't write you this, so I am. It's been a lot of tough fighting, but so far your hero is still as cocky as ever and still telling everybody how to do it. The darn thing is usually he's right. Last Sunday we were repairing a bulldozer at the far end of the airport when... Hey, who's getting funny? Maybe Mr. Willowar's throwing nails around. That's no Willowar, that's a Jappy, sniping at us. Must be on top of that rise. I think I saw him that time behind that rock. Got any hand grenades? There's a case of them next to the toolkit. Pick up a couple and follow me. Uh-oh, there goes the air raid warning. Come on, boy, head for cover. Hey, Chris, we've got a man that anti-aircraft gun. You mean you're gonna cross this field right in front of that sniper? Well, you can run as fast one way as another, can't you? Well, I can't run faster than the bullets. All right, Chef Fathead, you stay there. If a bomb gets you, don't blame me. Well, beautiful, before you could say hero-hito, your fool husband had that gun going like a bad case of hoping cough. And the next thing you know, one of those jet planes folded up his wings and wham! Down she came like a dead duck. For that little job, Larry got a citation. And that night he started figuring how he'll be getting extra pay and maybe you ought to make a down payment on another truck. Number five, he said. Number five I wanted to call redeeming left. And I said, what the devil does that mean? And he just smiled and answered, Jean will know. After Chris's letter, there was a long anxious period of waiting. Then Larry's mother came to live with me. I can't tell you what a comfort it was to have someone who could talk to me about him. But late one night. Yes, mother, I'll get it. Telegram for Mrs. Larry Bleaker. Oh. You've got a sign for it, lady. Here. Thank you. Mother, is it from Larry? No, no, it isn't. Not exactly. Oh. From the Navy Department. Now, please. Is he dead? Missing. Missing in action. That's all it says. That's all it says. Oh, darling, please. Please. He was the only boy I had, Jean. He's not dead. I know it. I can't tell you how, but I'm sure Larry's not dead. Now, you must believe that with me. You must, mother. You must. I'll try, Jean. I'll try. But the letter we received a few days later gave us little to cling to. This handwriting I'd never seen before. Dear Mrs. Bleaker, you do not know me, but I am the commander of Larry's battalion of Seabees. I write you out of respect and affection for your husband. And because I feel that it may be of some comfort for you to know exactly what happened. A big gasoline barge had just come in. One of those pontoon barges, which, as you may know, was Larry's idea. Before we had time to pump out the gas, about 50 zeros came over. We couldn't lose that gas. It was essential to our operations. I needed six men to man the pumps. Your husband, Chris, and four other men volunteered. All right. The rest of you men, back to your battle stations. Come on, now, you six. Each gallon of gas we can save may make the difference between driving the enemy off this island or retreating with our tail between our legs. I'll see that the anti-aircraft gunners give you all the protection they can. Chief Petty Officer Bleaker, you're in charge. Yes, sir. All right, boys, you heard the orders. Turn those pump engines over. Hey, Larry, you hear what he said? Chief Petty Officer. Well, what's so surprising about that? I saw it coming a year ago. Got too hot for most of them. One by one each, according to his own stamina, they slipped away, but not Larry. Larry, those eggs are coming closer every minute. We better get out of here. Now, wait a minute. Look, look, Chris, if we manned that barge and took her out to sea, we could save her. We'd never make it. They won't hit us if we zigzag. Oh, you're crazy. I'm arguing, will you? Say, do you want to get killed? All right, stay here then. See if I care. I'll make it for sale. Don't be such a hothead. Can't you wait for me a minute? That was the last we saw of them, zigzagging out into the darkening sea with a furious beehive of zeros splashing bombs all around them. That was eight days ago. I've not written you sooner because I hope there might be additional news to send. There isn't. But I want you to know that there isn't one man among the eleven hundred in this battalion who doesn't think of Larry with a steam and pride, with a full recognition of those human and manly virtues which made him a conspicuous symbol of the best soldiery of this country. Respectfully yours, Frederick C. Rickert, Commander, Civil Engineer Corps, United States Navy. That, Mr. Editor, is Larry Bleaker's story. You know, of course, that I am to receive for him the silver star and the purple heart in recognition of his bravery. I know that's why you called me. You must forgive me if I couldn't talk to you on the telephone. It's so much easier to write about Larry. Late at night, when mother's gone to bed, and I'm alone, here in this house where we spent that first year of our married life together, and then it seems to me that I can hear Larry, that he talks to me, that somewhere, far away, unbroken and courageous as ever, Larry still lives. It seems to me that he's trying to tell me something, to tell me. Don't cry, funny face. Just wait for me. I'll come back. I promise you. Dear funny face, just wait till I come back to you. Thank you, Wendy Barry and Alfred Drake. A little later in our program, Miss Barry will return to the microphone with Captain John R. Perry of the CBs. In the meantime, we would like to tell you about some of the ways in which new chemical products are serving in the wartime aircraft industry. In a carefully camouflaged plant in the state of Maryland, brilliant with a canary yellow protective paint which covers their aluminum skins until they receive their own camouflage finish, they move forward on the production lines the huge planes of one of America's pioneer aircraft builders, Glenn L. Martin. Glenn Martin himself tossed the first bomb from an army biplane 30 years ago in 1913. And even as early as 1918 in World War I, he was experimenting in his planes with armor plate, 37-millimeter cannon and leak-proof fuel tanks. Today, the Marauders and Mariners and the Baltimore attack bombers, which Martin builds for our British allies, leave the Martin plants in Maryland and the Middle West one after another. The seagoing planes, gigantic craft so tall that they have an upstairs and a downstairs like a house, are trundled from the paint shop directly into the water where they spread their wings like great sea birds and fly away to Europe or Africa. One type of plane, the Mars, now in quantity production, is so tremendous that it can carry cargo or 150 armed men to Europe and back nonstop. To these planes, as to the planes of other manufacturers, chemistry contributes much that helps them to their unprecedented level of performance. Lucite, for instance, provides transparent plastic turrets, nosepieces and portholes with excellent vision for pilots and crews. For their skins, DuPont primer coats and dopes and camouflage finishes to inhibit corrosion, to taunt in fabric where fabric is used, and to provide the surface with resistance to all kinds of weather. Take a single DuPont product, neoprene rubber, rubber that never saw a rubber tree. Martin planes use DuPont neoprene in running light fins, antenna masks, electrical outlet installations, inside nose turrets, cold weather valves in their lubricating systems, recognition lights and window seals in escape hatches and a dozen other parts. Neoprene coated fabrics, which, like neoprene, resist sun and air, grease and oil, go into the pilot's instrument panel and enclosure fuselage, the lower door assembly, the carburetor air intake scoop, the gun sight equipment and the upper rear turret, as well as the fuselage and the power plant. The list of DuPont materials serving in planes made by this one manufacturer is so long that we cannot give it in full. These are wartime uses of some of the peacetime DuPont better things for better living through chemistry. And here is Wendy Barry, co-star with Alfred Drake on this evening's Cavalcade of America to introduce Captain John R. Perry, civil engineer, Corps, United States Navy, who is in charge of CB personnel. Miss Barry. Captain Perry, I've heard it said that CBs are the only people in the world who can really tell it to the Marines. Is that true? Well, Miss Barry, it isn't healthy for anyone to get into a controversy with the United States Marines. I'm glad of this opportunity, however, particularly after the fine dramatization this evening to talk briefly about the CB. The CB organization was born after Pearl Harbor. Unfortunate experiences at Guam and Wake in Cavite demonstrated that while civilian construction men could do the work, they weren't trained or equipped to fight. The Navy decided its construction men had to be fighters as well as builders. Today, there are more CBs than there were men in the entire peacetime Navy. Each of them trained to fight with bannet, rifle, machine gun, hand grenade, or bare fist. They've hewn roads out of the Alaskan rocks, airplane runways out of South Pacific jungles, and built fighting bases on North African sand. They're the can-do men of the armed forces, men who can fix anything from a wristwatch to an airplane carrier, men who can take jungles away from japs and convert them into fighting bases, men whose slogan is, we defend what we build. The Navy needs thousands of skilled construction men for the fighting CBs. The emphasis is on skilled men because we're all in a hurry to get this job done, and there isn't time for the Navy to give fundamental building training to all the men who are needed. If you have some skill in any construction trade, if you're between the ages of 17 and 50, if you're in reasonably good health, and if you live in a non-restricted manpower area, I urge you to visit, write, or telephone to a Navy Recruiting Officer tomorrow. When this war is over and peace again reigns, you'll be proud to say, I was a CB. Next week, Cavalcade brings you a story of high daring and courage in the best tradition of the Navy. But more, it is a warm, human tale of two brothers in love with the same girl. It is entitled Double Play and was adapted from the recent Saturday evening post-story of the same title. In the leading roles of a submarine skipper and the captain of a destroyer, it stars Brian Donlevy and Kent Smith. The orchestra and musical score tonight were under the supervision of Donald Voorhees. This is Clayton Collier sending best wishes from Cavalcade sponsor, the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. This program came to you from New York. This is the National Broadcasting Company.