 Family Theater presents Gene Evans and Richard Denning. From Hollywood, the Mutual Network in Cooperation with Family Theater presents Profile of a Hero starring Gene Evans. And now here is your host, Richard Denning. Thank you, Tony LaFrono. Family Theater's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we are to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families and peace for the world. Family Theater urges you to pray. Pray together as a family. And now to our transcribed drama, Profile of a Hero starring Gene Evans as Slim. Is he gone? No. Nancy. Oh look, he's just a poor old fellow and he said it could mean his job. That's just a trick. No, no, he looks like he means it. Honey, you've got a heart like a marshmallow. Well, it can't do any harm to talk to him and after all, if it means his job. Oh, he's lying about that. I'll give you five to one. Well, if he is, you can always hit him with your cane. Want me to get it for you? I wouldn't touch that thing again. Maybe I'll use a candlestick on him. He's in the living room. Shall I send him in here? No, I'll go in and see him. Let him get a good look at the wounded hero limping in on his cork foot. And then when his guard is down, maybe I'll pop him one. I'll at least give him the benefit of a doubt. Yeah, sure. Just one guy, huh? Yeah, that's him. Well, here goes. You wanted to see me? Mr. Weston. That's right. My name is Daniel Osborne. I'm from the Sun in Daily News. So I've been told. Well, if you won't be needing me, I've got a few things to do. Okay, honey. Would you excuse me, Mr. Osborne? Certainly, certainly. Pleasure meeting you, ma'am. Mine too. Sit down. Thank you. Nice. How's you have here, Mr. Weston? Push that footstool over this way, will you? Oh, certainly. There. Is that all right? Fine. I heard you lost a leg in the war. I didn't lose it. They took her away from me. Just the foot. Still got most of the leg. Oh, well, I'm glad I was misinformed. That's not unusual, is it? Pardon me? For a newspaper man to be misinformed, I mean. Well, you don't have a very high opinion of the Fourth Estate. Or do you think your profession is worthy of a very high opinion? Well, I don't think you can generalize about it. Not any more than you can generalize about, well, aren't they medical profession or plumbing? Oh, but I can generalize about your profession, because it's not like art or medicine or plumbing. I can put newspapers in a group with motion pictures and video and television, because by and large, you're all guilty of the same crime. What crime is that? You want to tell about bravery and the actions of a soldier above and beyond the call of duty. Isn't that right? Well, I suppose you might say that, yes. Well, that's what makes me mad. When you do that, you glamorize something that's got about as much right to glamor as the bubonic plague. Now, why don't you give me a picture of the war? Would you print it if I did? Well, I'm on shaky terms with a city editor, but I could try. All right, good enough. Ever see a battlefield? I don't mean a movie battlefield, a real one. Well, no, I haven't. Well, it's not any field of honor where well-fed heroes and slightly soiled clothes exchange bright remarks between disorganized enemy attacks. A battlefield is, well, it's a corner of hell. It's a morgue without refrigeration, a latrine without running water, and it smells worse than any of those things. It smells of death and garbage, waste and burned powder and sweat and fatigue. It smells just like what it is, a place for dying. And the men? The men? Generally dirtier than they ever thought they could be and tired almost to death. There wasn't a man in my outfit who couldn't sleep on his feet if he thought there wasn't a chance the enemy wouldn't sneak up on him while he was doing it. But that chance was usually there. There wasn't much question about what we were fighting for, and it wasn't to make the world safe for democracy or for another slice of mom's blueberry pie. It was just to stay alive, stay alive until you'd piled up enough points for rotation. That's the men generally. Now what about the men specifically? Now I have to write about you. What about you? What do you want to know? Well, first, maybe I'd better get my facts straight. Just for a change, huh? That crack I made earlier, I'm sorry. Well, I have it here that you enlisted shortly after the outbreak of the Korean War. Kind of sounds like I was suddenly imbued with the spirit of national patriotism. That's not the way it happened. How did it happen? Well, that was a while back, about five years, and I guess you could say I really didn't have my growth yet, just out of high school. A little fuzz on my face, not really enough to shave, build like a telephone pole. No looks, no talent, and no direction. Typical drugstore cowboy, and like most 17-year-olds, dying to be somebody, or something, or anything except what I was. A tall, dangling, undecided creature, too tall to be thought of as a boy, and too young to be considered as a man. Hey, pops, how about a little service down here? I'm coming, I'm coming. Thought you didn't have any more money. Who needs money when he's got friends, huh? Look, if you're thinking I'm gonna fork over. Man, a cup of coffee, a dime. Don't tell me you haven't got a dime. Dave, your diamond meat at death. But I'll be buying for you if I had the dough. All right, what'll it be, fellows? Nothing. Nothing? Wait, I want another cup of coffee. I'm good for it. Not by me? Wait. Fair exchange, then. I'll have Slim here go into his act. That ought to be worth a dime's worth of that stuff you call coffee. Slim, show Mike you can close one eye and look like a needle. Dave, will you cut it off? That one was old when I wasn't. Now, how about it? Do you want anything? Slim, pay you back Friday, okay? Okay, two coffees. And that's another thing. Someday you boys are going to come in here and order something besides coffee. And that'll be the day I'll drop dead from surprise. Then we'll never order anything else. We need you, pops. 20 cents. There it is. Was it one of you boys asking me the other day about a buy in a car? Not me. Why? Well, now I heard that tall red-headed fellow. What's his name? The boy with a leather jacket. Jerry Bessel? Ah, that's the boy. Well, I heard he was trying to sell his car. No kidding. Yes, going into the army. Drafted, huh? Enlisted. What a goon. Yes, well, I've got to admire a man who'd do a thing like that in wartime. Maybe. No, maybe's about it. Give you eight to three, he was drafted. Enlisted. And I'll bet he turns out to be the only one of your big coffee buyers that amounts to anything. Yes, sir, I have to... Well, anybody has to take your hat off to a man like that. Jerry Bessel. All of a sudden, he's a man. Huh? Nothing, nothing. You're always muttering to yourself, and you wonder why nobody pays attention to you. Hey, how you doing with Harriet? Harriet, what do you mean? I understand you tried to date her. You mind? Mind? Why should I mind? I just wondered how you did, that's all. Well, if you knew I tried to date her, you'd probably know how I did. No good, huh? No good. You've got it pretty bad, haven't you? What's the difference, Dave? She doesn't even know I'm alive. And I can't say that I blame her. It would take eight of me to make a trio. That's the way to talk. That's the old slim. So how am I supposed to talk? I'm the original strikeout kid. All through high school, the same story. Boy, you just gotta make him sit up and take notice. How, Dave? That's the question. How? Well, that was what started it. So I'd get recognized as a human being. I noised it around that I was going to enlist in the army. And I figured at last I'd get a little individuality. And for a while it looked like I was right. Some of the girls I knew began to look at me in a new light. Neighbors stopped me on the street to shake my hand and wish me well. And then a few well-meaning friends, one of them, the girl who triggered the whole thing, brought the whole thing to a head. They threw me a going away party. Then I had to follow through on it. And I enlisted. Just for a little individuality. And little recognition. And that individuality. That was a short-lived luxury. As soon as I got to the induction center, they gave me a haircut and a suit of clothes that made me look just exactly like five million other guys. About two months after that, the army was trying to teach me how to really go about not being noticed. Comouflage and concealment, they called it. And there were a few other subjects. Men, this is your basic training, and I'm Sergeant Shallot. Now over the next four months, it'll be my job to teach you just one lesson. And it's the really basic thing about basic training. How to stay alive at the enemy's expense. It's not an easy lesson to learn, but you'll have to learn it. You'll have to learn how to live on five hours of sleep a night. Because when you get into battle, you'll be lucky if the enemy lets you have two hours a night. You're going to learn how to patch yourself and how to take care of yourself. Because you're going to a place where an insect bite can mean gangrene. You're going to have to learn how to run like Jesse Owens, shoot like Annie Oakley, charge like Apaches, think like Generals, and yes, live like Hogs. Because you're going to have to know these things if you're expecting to come back. A lot of the things we'll teach you... It's a good job those cadre-minute basic training. You never really know how good until you find yourself actively involved in the war. Then you find out there are a lot of things that you have to learn for yourself. Like how to drink water when it's so full of halosone tablets that it looks, tastes, and smells like Clorox. How to dig a foxhole when the ground is frozen. And how to breathe when the air is putrid with carrion and so cold it hurts your lungs with every breath you take. It's impossible to heed the warnings they gave you in basic training about keeping your feet dry. It's impossible because your own body warmth turns the snow to ice water in the bottom of the hole you live in. You learn how tough you really are, how much you can really take when you have to, but you're just too tired to be proud of yourself. Just too tired or maybe too busy. I don't see them, Matt. I don't see them at all. Come on over here and I'll show you something to shoot at. I don't as much as something to shoot at as I want to know where they're going to be if they're going to shoot at me. I still don't see them. Right there. I don't see them either now. Did you hit anything? I don't. You never know unless they're standing right on top of you. On most terms, I'd as soon not find out. I heard you firing a few minutes ago. Yeah, I just nipped to heat up the barrel. I'm trying to get my hands warm. Just trying to remember the last time I was born. You and me both. I've been trying to remember a time when I wasn't in the Army. Just four more months for me. How about you? Almost two more years. RA, huh? Poor guy. You were just liable to get rotated home and then rotated back. You know that? That regular Army is rough. I hear the 33rd got into trouble. Could be. We're not exactly out of the woods ourselves, you know. You hear anything new? Half the time is just dumb luck when I hear this platoon is moving when it's moving. Looks pretty quiet out there now. You know, I did hear something. What? We're moving up this afternoon. Where'd you get that? Yeah, you got next man down from me. Oh, him? Well, I think maybe he's right this time. I'd bet on it. Well, I won't take your money. Well, if we do have to move, I sure wish these clouds had left. We could use some air support. Burger? Yeah. They wouldn't really rotate a guy twice, would they? Your regular Army, you tell me. Oh, brother. I don't think they would. I wouldn't worry about it. Ruger? Yo, Weston? Right here. Jensen's with you? Jensen's dead. Hmm. Jager? He's all right. Where is he? Other side of that patch is scrubbed. If you're going over there, you better let him know a long time in advance. He's a little shaky. Thanks. Now get your stuff together. We're moving out. Sergeant, how soon? Half hour. Jager, hold your fire. Was I right about moving up? Suddenly, I'm not worried about that double rotation anymore. You know, he was right. Who was right? That general who said war is hell. There's never been a longer winter in my life than that one was. I remember it as one long succession of battles over frozen ground. A long succession of foxholes carved out of ice and slush. It was a thousand gray and white days filled with the continuing thought that the next push would be the last, that I'd never really have to worry about getting enough points to come home. It was at the end of that winter, April the second, that I was sure I was going to be killed. We'd taken some little hill. It didn't even have a name, just a number. And the platoon sergeant told us to dig in, and since Bruger and I were supposed to be a little better shots than the average, he put us on a promontory away from the rest of the company. We hadn't even finished digging in when the enemies started coming back up that hill. Cut off from the rest. Bruger! Bruger! I'm all alone and I've got to get back. I've got to get back with that company. I've got to get back up there. Dear God! It was a panic, a complete and unreasoning that moved me toward that company. I fired my rifle till I had no more clips, and then I dropped it and took a submachine gun from a dead Chinese and cut my way to the company. Once I fell and rolled halfway down the hill, but I got up and I didn't stop until I fell at the top of the hill in the midst of the company. They told me later that I had single-handedly split the enemy's attack force, causing them to fail. They told me that I accounted for approximately 50 of the enemy all by myself and that I had used the submachine gun as a club when its ammo was spent. They said I fell when I lost my foot and that I'd done the most of my fighting without it. But I don't remember any of those things. You don't remember any of them? When they told me about my foot, I didn't believe them. There wasn't any bravery involved. It was a fear, a panic. It was nothing more than an unplanned attempt at self-preservation. Then you don't think you deserve your decoration? Oh, it's a great honor. I'm grateful for what it represents. But I think that every man who ever earned a combat infantryman's badge should have a piece of the Congressional Medal of Honor. And I yearn for the day when it will be impossible for any man to have an award like it. The day when the people of the world finally realize that there must be a better answer to the world's problems than war. You can do something to make that day come sooner, Mr. Osborn. Well, how? Stop glorifying it in your paper. Well, I'll try, Mr. Weston. Well, I'll stop taking up your time. I think I've got enough material now. I'll see you to the door. Oh, no, that isn't necessary. Don't trouble yourself. If you're thinking of this foot of mine, don't have to use it to get used to it. Well, is it bad? Well, not nearly as good as the original, if that's what you mean. Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Weston, and I... Well, I enjoyed our talk. And I hope it did some good. Goodbye, sir. Oh, by the way, you quoted a general. I'll look up the rest of that boat if you'd like me to. I would. I'll see that you get a copy. Goodbye. Goodbye, Mr. Osborn. Hi there. What's for breakfast? Why don't you sit down and find out? Well, I think I will. Well, what's this? Did you subscribe to a newspaper? Well, that one arrived this morning by Special Messenger. It has a profile of a hero on page five. You're the hero. Oh, he wrote the story, huh? Well, I'll bet it's typical. Well, I thought it was pretty accurate. Read the first paragraph to me, will you? But if you've read it... I'd like to hear it again. I think people shouldn't memorize it. All right, let's see here. From an address attributed to General William Tecumseh Sherman, June 19, 1879. I am sick and tired of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It's only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, more vengeance, more desolation. War is hell. You see, talking to that reporter did do some good. I may even have another talk with him. About what? We'll hit the positive angle now. Maybe he'll be able to get his readers to pray for peace. This is Richard Denning again. We often feel that our own problems are unique, that for others life is rather easy sailing. Sometimes our problem is the endurance of a great sorrow. But oftentimes it is the steady frustration which monotony induces in us. An endless procession of uninteresting, uninspiring tasks and duties. We feel that life is passing us by. We forget to look around us and see what many others really have to put up with, what a tonic it is, and how encouraged we are when we meet with manly and womanly poises and dignity in the sufferance of trials both great and small. More often than not, when this poise and balance is genuine and trouble-proof, we find that it comes from personal prayer and undeniable confidence that God is one's anchor. And family prayer too is the anchor of the home. No storm of misfortune or of temperament really can wreck the family which family prayer anchors. It makes a family poised and durable when everything seems bound to crack it up. Our bursts of temper, turbulent nerves, fits of disgust and unwarranted rivalries can reach destructive proportions. But when our Lord comes among us as we pray, the gales subside. We of so little faith are renewed in our faith. Our faith in ourselves, in others, and in him. In reality, the family that prays together stays together. More things are brought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood Family Theater has brought you transcribed Profile of a Hero starring Jean Evans. Richard Denning was your host. Others in our cast were Barbara Eiler, Leo Curley, Jack Carroll, George Peroni, and Ralph Voltrian. The script was written and directed for Family Theater by Robert Hugo Sullivan with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who feel the need for this type of program, by the mutual network which has responded to this need, and by the hundreds of stars of stage, screen, and radio who give so unselfishly their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony Lafranco expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home and inviting you to join us next week when Family Theater will present The Acid Test starring Anne Blythe. Jack Haley will be your host. Join us, won't you? Family Theater has broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network. This is Mutual, the radio network for all America.