 Starring Douglas Fairbanks as Robert Stobo in The Unheroic Hero, presented by the DuPont Company, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. With Douglas Fairbanks as Robert Stobo, here is The Unheroic Hero. Time 20 years before the American Revolution, place a prison in Montreal. Montreal, the fortress, 1756. It is November now in Canada. But almost two years ago in Virginia, it was spring. I was 27 and a bachelor. I had a house. I had 10 men's servants. I had bagpipes. I've always been inordinately fond of bagpipes. About two o'clock one morning, I decided to send Robertson, my butler, to rile out the servants and fetch them to me. And to help rouse the sleepy Rastos, I reached for my bagpipes. Good morning, sir. Good morning. I've called you 10 sleepy Rastos together in order to announce a change in my manner of living. A change, sir? Yes. I was at supper with the governor tonight. They say there's a bit of trouble on the Virginia frontier with the French and the Indians. And so it occurred to me that it might be amusing to sign up as a soldier. Or have I already mentioned this? No, sir. This comes quite freshly to us, sir. Well, now, when I said so at supper, all the ladies laughed and thought of me wrestling with the red savages in the wilderness. Yes, sir. I see what you mean, sir. The governor did, too, you know. So I'm dused if he didn't offer to commission me captain. And I'm dused if I didn't, with more brandy than brains, sign up. Well, sir. Heartiest congratulations, sir. But we'll miss you, sadly, sir. He will miss you, sir. And lonely we'll be here without you. Lonely? Oh, no. You needn't be lonely, because after a round of toast to my future, I took to thinking how dull it would be about civil food and my wardrobe kept in order and my sheets clean and smooth. And, of course, I knew how loyal you all are to me. And so what did I do but sign you all up, too? No, no, no, no. I beg your pardon, your pardon. That's right. Speak up. Speak up. Feel free, Robertson, yes. Do you know, sir, if there is to be a war? Well, if there were, would I sign on? Oh, then, sir, you mean we might look on this more in the nature of an excursion? Of course, sir. There may be two little Indians and one little Frenchman poaching somewhere along the Ohio. But that can't bother us. The governor said he'll have a force of over a thousand. So we'll all say scat to the French and the Indians and then come home. Very good. And he's just scat to the French. When do we start? Anyway, I've always found Williamsburg-Dullish after the middle of June. They say the mountains and the Monongahela can be rather refreshing. When do we start? Well, is anyone sleepy? No? No one? Good. Well, then, we might as well start right now. And that was the simple beginning of this, my simple end. If there is one man responsible for my imprisonment, aside from myself, it was the commander of our ludicrous little expedition to the forks of the Ohio. He was a sober young upstart at 22, a colonel by the name of George Washington. I took a dislike to Washington that first evening we caught up with him in the wilderness. How do you do, colonel? You get the cue, Captain, weren't here a few weeks ago and you were due. Well, sir, I would have been here sooner, but I brought along a wagon load of comforts and knick-knacks that I thought I might need, such as two hogs heads of really capital Madeira. Captain Sturbo, if you would. And so, of course, with the wine being rather heavy and the Allegheny's rather high, and then the weather was indeed most gracious. Well, sir, the trip took on a more leisurely aspect than it otherwise might have. Captain Sturbo, would you be in my tent in 20 minutes, sir? Oh, yes. There will be a council of officers. Any of those hideous red rascals have been popping up in the bushes? Not as yet. Oh, disappointing. I thought I might at least see one good scalping. Do you think you could wait? How do you mean, sir? We expect a force of 800 French and 400 Indians to attack us. I beg your pardon, sir. And since we have an effective total of 284 men to meet their 1,200, I should think, Captain Sturbo, that you might see at least one good scalping? I had never heard more annoying news. After all, I hadn't sat over the Blue Ridge Mountains and across the lovely Shenandoah expecting a war. And I had been terribly happy ambling along under the great roofy trees lost in the green wonder of the wilderness. Now there's horrible shock. This dreary sober young colonel. I'd always thought that 22 was a hideous age for men or boys or whatever the male is at 22. So then I took a sickening stroll around the flimsy little stockade they called a fort and ended up at the office's powwow. Colonel Washington, I think the entire position is untenable. We're on low marsh ground from the hills they'll be able to shoot right over the stockade. They won't have to shoot, they can scar us out. Half of them in their staff already. Colonel Washington, we want to ask you directly. Do you intend to make a stand here? As against what alternative? Withdrawal. I intend to make a stand. Impossible. Gentlemen, I believe we have a duty to the colonel. Duty? What about their duty to us? Maryland promise troops and where are they? New England promise to send 12 companies against the French. And here we are a handful of idiots in the Union with scoffing a man that's ever shot more than a squirrel. Keep your voice down, the dentist's thin soldiers can hear you. Colonel Washington, you must have the only sensible courses declared off tonight. Then we can wait on the other side of the mountains until we have proper supplies and support. Don't you have supplies and support. Don't you agree, sir? Our duty lies here. Colonel, you're a boy. It commissioned you a colonel because you once took a walk through this country. And you're in command now only because Colonel Fry was killed. How you can sit there and tell us? Gentlemen, I... May I have a moment without your barking? Captain Sturbo, you've been quiet during all this. Let us put the problem to you. Yes, yes, of course. Anything I can do. We were sent out here to build a fortification at the forks of the Ohio Hall. But... Ohio Hall. But before we could reach there, the enemy was there. Excuse me, sir, but you said... Excuse me, sir, but you said... Then we agree that a stand must be made at just a new settlement. But the moment we arrived, news came that the enemy with ten times our numbers was marching upon us. Again, we decided to retreat. Last night, we arrived here. That's great manners. Now, Captain Sturbo, I want your opinion. Shall we retreat once again? Or shall we stand? Well, I must confess, I really haven't the slightest notion of anything military. I came here under the impression, well, it is rather serious, isn't it? You wanted to see a good scalping. It's your chance. Well... Frankly, sir, I was thinking of one which I might tell my grandchildren about. Then I gather that you are not with me, Captain. I'm afraid, sir, I have a taste for discretion. I see. And the rest of you seem to be in agreement. Gentlemen, I grant you my inexperience and my mistakes, and I grant that I am in command by an unfortunate accident. But do you grant me that I am in command? Yes. Then it is my decision, despite all criminal negligence at home, despite all weakness here, to make our lives count tomorrow in a determined and deadly stand. I believe that there comes a point when discretion calls to cowardice. I believe a man can retreat once too often and so retreat forever. But if he stands, even though he is defeated, still he can win. He can be wiped out and rouse the world. I'm not one to enjoy heroics. Washington's little plea didn't please me. I dislike these serious long-nosed people. Well, at any rate, we worked all that night building a stockade. It was an endless night, yet I knew that the next morning would come and it did come. The troops were ordered under arms. Then it rained. What's your powder? Yes, sir. Keep your powder dry. I am captain. The low ground around the encampment was a catch-patient. For nine eternal hours, we stood or sat or lay in that rain and still no sign of the enemy. Dear corporal, what's your powder? Doing the best I can, sir. Oh, it'll ever stop. It's raining on the enemy, too. The place was afloat and the mud, we were deep in the mud. Then, about eleven o'clock, the enemy appeared. There they are! The yellow of the Indians told us to expect the utmost and savage cruelty. Power from every little rising tree, stump, stone and bush, the enemy kept up a constant galling fire upon us. And so did the rain. In the late afternoon, the fury of the firing rose. And in the fury of the rain rose. And fell and hissed it out. Someone's calling. They want to talk things over with us. No! No, Parley! But Colonel Washington, we haven't a dry shot. What can we do? We can fix our bayonets. Fix bayonets! Nor did we. Then it was dark. A third of our men were now dead or wounded. About midnight, the rain stopped. It was time for the rain to stop. It was time for it all to stop. We were defeated. And the French sent us their terms. Again, we met in Washington's tent. Gentlemen, by our determined stand, we have won light terms. Now, in order to ensure the carrying out of these terms, the enemy demands two of our captains as hostages. But Colonel Washington, they want two captains? Correct. By giving up two, then the rest of us can march out of here free. So before we sign this capitulation, now is this matter of picking two hostages? Who will they be? Well, it shouldn't mean much more than a short march to the Ohio and then a month or so at Fort Duquesne. Volunteers? Gentlemen, I have a space here where I must put the names of two captains. Five captains sit before me. Surely, two will volunteer so that the whole force can go free. I'm waiting for volunteers. Well, I'm not married. Put my name down. Thank you, Captain Dunbram. Who else isn't married? I believe Captain Stobo is the only other one not married. I'm waiting for one more man to offer. I sat there. Isn't anyone going to? I sweat and sat there, but I couldn't offer. Still waiting? They dragged and chained all the way to the Ohio. Waiting? Cheer that, or maybe given to the Indians to run their gauntlet. Waiting? I couldn't. I'm not made of zero-eq stuff. But they picked me anyway since I was the only single man left. So that was that. You are listening to Douglas Fairbanks as Robert Stobo in The Unheroic Hero on the Cavalcade of America, presented by the Depart Company, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Robert Stobo is imprisoned by the French in Montreal during the French and Indian War in North America. He's recalling the adventures which led to his predicament. The next morning we started off, Washington came up to me. I knew he came to make some cutting farewell because I hadn't volunteered. Captain Stobo, one moment, please. I had something in mind to say to you. Colonel Washington, I had in mind to reprimand me for the past. Stobo, I was thinking of the future. Oh. Captain, I was sent out to take Fort Duquesne. I failed. But sometime that fort will fall. You're going to be there. You can help. Aye, sir. As a hostage, you will be kept within the fort, but you won't be imprisoned. That means you can walk. Look. Count. Pace off. Listen to gossip. You can study the plan of the fort. You can collect information on the strength and intentions of the enemy. Yes, sir. So that next month, when you are exchanged, you can tell me. Then we can act on your intelligence accordingly. I see. But don't put a line or word on paper. Memorize. If you don't, you may be caught as a spy and end as a spy. Oh. Are you consent to help, sir? Possibly, Colonel Washington. I might possibly take a little fling at it. Washington had won me over. I didn't deserve his trust, and yet he trusted me. This George Washington seemed able to reach in and uncover and bring out a part of me I never knew existed. Every day on that march to Fort Duquesne, I thought of the way he had fought and handled his men and what he had said in the tent. And every day I liked that sober boy better. By the time we reached the fort, I liked him so much that I wanted to give him a place as a birthday present. So I tried to do everything he asked. After a month there, I had the information by rote. But we weren't exchanged. Another month, and Captain Van Bram and I were still there and still another month and still there. Then I found out something that made me act. Impossible. For you to do this is plain dumb fooling. What else can I do? Sit and be sensible. That's a man can always... You don't understand. I found out today that the French are sending most of their force away for the winter. And by the end of October there will be only 200 soldiers left. Good. Then we can all sit and be sensible together. But don't you see, if I can only get this map to the fort, to Washington. If only Washington knew. Oh, boss, you do that. They'll chop off your head. Force by. Then you won't help. Will you give me your coat? Why? I want to sell this map and paper in its lining. How will my coat get to Washington? Well, tonight we'll take it around to the trading post and sell it to a certain Indian. I've already talked with him and he's promised to go to Colonel Washington. There. Now, do you see how simple it is? And so my dear Captain, may I have the honor of your coat. With winter coming? But if you do this we'll be out of here by winter. My dear Captain... You mean to say that you don't want to help? All my life I am the soldier of fortune. Not for the patriotism, but for the pain. So excuse me if I sit when I can and be sensible. Come on, now offer your coat. Wait, wait! You can sit and be sensible in your shirts, please. Everywhere the French officers they stole among the Indians trading. Captain, I thank you for the last chance not to do this. Well, there's no law against a man selling his coat to an Indian. But the map sold inside his lining. So I am your friend. Believe me, if the French find the map, they will kill you. Who find it? I shall merely sell the coat to my Indian. And he'll be off. What if your Indian speaks with a French accent? What if the French, they pay him to tap you? Well, now I hadn't really thought about that. You see, you sell to him my coat and he sells to them your life. There, there's my Indian. Here, there he comes. Stop it. I beg you, don't. A coat for sale! Coat for sale! Look, he's watching you. The French officer. He's watching you. He's suspicious. Walking wind, come here. Such a pretty name he has and such a pretty face for blood. Coat, good coat walking wind. Coat. And warm coat can travel far in coat. Oh, of course. Oh, not much. One good coat, not much. Oh, well, give two beaver. Two beaver, you. One good warm coat, you. Shake hands. Take care. Subbu, he comes to the officer. Deal done. Deal done. Ah, bonsoir, Capitaine Subbu. Ah, bonsoir, Capitaine Vendone. Ah. I see, Capitaine Vendone, you sell the coat. Yes, he finds an old coat of dull things. Perhaps I buy that coat myself. Oh, it's old. It's old. He couldn't go back on his word now. Coat sold. May buy. A thing like that could mean an Indian uprising, pity you weren't here earlier. Capitaine Vendone, I will give you three Louis. Goal. Three Louis. And I sold for two beaver. A good coat for two beaver. It's silly of him, wasn't it? And to the Chevy. Of women, sir. He looked all of a shiver. Captain Vendone thought of that poor red skin against the winter's snow. And he thought to himself, never had he ever lifted a finger for anyone. And here was a chance to do one fine thing. So he sold the coat for two beaver to my ruddy friend here. Goodbye, walking wind. Take good care of that coat. He took good care. The message reached Washington. But unfortunately, someone talked. And someone else talked. It was even printed in a newspaper. Oh, yes, everyone read the exciting story of Captain Stoble. The French read it, too. So they marched me through the winter to Montreal. Two and a half prison years. Then my trial. And now... Are you ready, monsieur? I'm sorry. You must go. The officer comes now to take you to hear your sentence. I know. I'm ready. Capitaine Stoble. Yes, Captain? You will come now. The course is waiting. Good luck, monsieur. Bonne chance. I will wait here your return. En avant, plâche! Connais-je un faux? Qui a c'est fait? Et en la plaza? De cette date? Delighted. Enchanted. Enchanté. Perhaps you did not understand in French your sentence. Oh, yes, I think so. Le conseil de guerre. The Council of War. Condemne-nous l'accusé à voir la tête tranchée. Condemne-me to have my head tranché. Sur un échafaud. Qui a c'est fait? Something or other which for this effect sera dressé en la place d'arme de cette ville. Will be set up in the place of... In the drill ground of this town. Yes, I call it all, I think. Except perhaps I'm a bit sketchy in those two words. Tranché. Tranché sur un échafaud. Echafaud. It is... How shall I say it? Echafaud is the... It is something built. Oh, I see. My head will be tranché on something built. Tranché? Ah, tranché. That is such an easy... It is simply to slice off. Oh, yes, of course. How stupid of me. Well, I'll try and remember it next time. Eh? Oh! Girls, look who said it. Rimo, Capitaine. And keep watch. Rimo, Capitaine. Capitaine Stobo. Yes, Emil. How is the weather out? Capitaine Stobo. I cannot eat the moon tonight. Now, you think that guard is mad, don't you? He said, I cannot eat the moon tonight. To you, that doesn't make sense. To me, it makes a great deal of sense. Our signal in case I was sentenced to death. My cell door? It was left open by my kind friend of liberty, this guard whom I... Shall we say, cultivated during these last two years in prison. Another door. Another. I shall find open. And soon I shall be out into the night. And a boat. And warm clothes. Then Virginia. Then free at last. Wait. I must leave this letter behind for the prison governor. To thank him for his hospitality. Au revoir. Franté. Robert Stobo, Captain. Virginia Militia. Robert Stobo, a hostage for Washington, escaped that night from the French prison in Montreal. He did return to Virginia to rejoice in the fall of Fort Duquesne. The plans of which he had risked his life to send Washington. Gay and lighthearted though he was, there was something that compelled Robert Stobo's faith in the young colonel whom he served. That young Virginian named George Washington was written by Halstead Wells, was suggested by an incident in the biography Young Washington by Douglas Southall Freeman, published by Scribner. The music was composed by Arden Cornwell and conducted by Donald Bryan. Appearing in the role of young colonel Washington was Lamont Johnson. Next Monday, Cavalcade will present an original radio play, Pink Lace, a colorful adventure of romance, excitement and a beautiful actress who was inspired during the Civil War. Our star will be the captivating screen personality, Janet Blair. This is Ted Pearson reminding you that the American Heart Association is conducting a nationwide campaign to raise funds. This money will be used by local heart associations to maintain and expand their efforts to eliminate America's number one killer heart disease. Your help is urgently needed. Thank you. Our star tonight, Douglas Fairbanks, who appeared on Cavalcade as Robert Stobo will soon be seen in the universal international release of his own production, The Fighting O'Flynn. Cavalcade of America is directed by Jack Goller. Comes to you each week from the stage of the Longacre Theater on Broadway in New York and is presented by the Dupont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.