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North Carolina’s Oldest Daily Newspaper Published Daily Except Sunday By The Wilmington Star-Newa R- B. Page, Owner and Publisher festered as Second Class Matter at Wilming t#n, N. C., Postoffice Under Act of Congress _of March 3, 1879. SUBSCRIPTION RATES BY CARRIER Payable Weekly Or In Advance Combi Time Star News nation 1 Week _$ .25 $ .20 $ .40 l Month _ 1.10 .90 1.75 3 Months _ 3.20 2.60 5.20 « Months _ 6:50 5.20 10.40 1 Year . 13.00 10.40 20.80 News rates entitle subscriber to Sunday issue , of Star-News BY MAIL: Payable Strictly In Advance Combi Time Star News nation 1 Month _$ .75 $ .50 $ .90 3 Months _ 2.00 1.50 2.75 6 Months _ 4.00 3.00 5.50 1 Year _ 8.00 6.00 10.00 News rates entitle subscriber to Sunday issue of Star-News WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 5, 1943 With confidence In our armed forces— with the unbounding determination of our people — we will gain the inevitable triumph—so help us God. —Roosevelt’s War Message. Our Chief Aim To aid in every way the prosecution of the war to complete Victory. TOP OF THE MORNING If there is coolness or unkindness be tween us, let us come face to face and have it out. Quick, before love glows cold! Robert Smith. Camp Davis Coal Once more opportunity is afforded to note and commend the cooperation Wilmington enjoys from Camp Davis. By releasing a hun dred tons of coal for sale through local deal ers to residents whose suppiy is inadequate, the Camp has offered fresh proof of its con cern for and interest in the city’s welfare. From General Crawford to Colonel Potts, Camp Davis commandants have overlooked no chance to be of service to Wilmington. The city and its residents are deeply grate ful. -V Pigs Galore Because the Office of Price Administration abolished the law of supply and demand, there is more pork on the hoof in stock yards than since January 5, 1925 Monday’s receipts totaled 241,000 head. They can’t all be prepared for market by meat processors. What percentage of them is pro cessed can’t be bought by point-short con sumers. The pigs left alive must be fed at somebody’s expense — an outlay of money which inevitably will be reflected in the price once they are reduced to pork loins, hams and chops. From pig growers to pork consumers, everybody is the victim of Office of Price Administration stupidity and bungling. Is there any reason to wonder that the American people are convinced the price of bureau cracy is ruin? _v_ Recreation Institute The value of the recreation training insti tute, which will be conducted here by Miss Helen Dauncey of the National Recreation Association for one week beginning Octo ber 10, will be strictly in proportion to the use that is made of it by Wilmington's citi zens. At the organization meeting in the Council chamber at the City Hall on Monday call ed and presided over by Jesse A. Reynolds, recreation director, committee members were designated to inform civic, church, wel fare and charitable units of the special courses to be given by Miss Dauncey and urge each to have representatives at all of the institute sessions. If this missionary work is well done and properly heeded, the bene fit to Wilmington's recreation program will be incalcuable. -V Cost Of Government Here’s another very good reason to get the war over with this year and restore nor malcy as quickly thereafter as possible: In 1943 the government spent more money than in the first 150 years of the nation’s life. If a stop is not brought to this soon we’ll be scraping the gutters for scraps with stray dogs. In 1943 approximately $88,000,000,000 was expended, $82,000,000,000 for the war—$241, 000,000 every twenty-four hours, and $225, 000,000 of that for the war. In contrast with this it is shown that from the creation of the Treasury in 1789 through June 30, 1928, gov ernment expenditures amounted to $87,300, 000,000. The Associated Press has dug up this adi tional data: Costliest period of Wurld War 1 was the 1918-19 fiscal year when the Government paid out $18,500,000,000. Aveiage daily spending during 1943 was some $21,000,000 greater than the total amount spent in the period 1789-1812. Last year’s record spending—nearly $32,000,000,000 above that of 1942—saw a new record, too, of federal income. The $34,500,000,000 garnered into the till—$31, 900.000. 0110 in taxes—is more than double last year’s $16,400,000,000 and includes $S, 500.000. 000 taken directly from paychecks during the first six months ol pay-as you-go operation. The 1943 receipts were $3,500,000,000 above official forecasts. Though we had all the gold of Ophir anc the wealth of Midas, we could not long survivi such jl drain as the war and an extravagan1 administration has imposed upon. The Only Way Berlin has been bombed so often and so heavily it does not appear possible for human life to be sustained within its borders. Sure ly its Use as the chief headquarters of the German government and a principal, center of war production has been minimized. With much of its population- evacuated, its chancel lory in ruins and factories out of commis sion, Berlin, where this war was plotted, is out of commission. It remains to be seen if it will remain so. The Germans have shown tremendous re cuperative powers since the Allied air cam paign started. This is shown by the manner in which they went to work to restore Ham burg, which was demolished quite as effec tively as Berlin now is, but which required another major bombing only three days ago because of the restoration that had taken place after it was first laid waste. In all the areas where Allied bombers have wrought great destruction the same sort of restora tion has been taking place. It is natural, therefore, to question if it will not also come to pass in Berlin. It is natural also to question if the Ger mans can be blasted out of the war by air attack alone. For a time ii seemed this might be done. Now it would appear that without ground assault Germany cannot be defeated. The morale of the people undoubted ly has been shaken. But it has not broken. And it is reasonable to think that it will not break until the Army has been subjected to more such crushing blows as were deliver ed by the Russians at Stalingrad, in the Crimea, and now along the Polish frontier. The quick salvaging of Hamburg, the re storation of production in other bombed areas, clearly indicates the necessity of beating the German armed forces in land battle. It proves the necessity of invasion. It justifies the launching of a second front in western Europe, which is in preparation under Gen eral Eisenhower. There is no other way to bring the Germans to their knees. -V Tell Destroyer’s Name At frequent intervals since the first word of the sinking of a destroyer off Sandy Hook was published telephone calls have come to this office asking the name of the vessel. Many Wilmington men are serving on de stroyers. Parents and friends, wives and sweethearts are anxious to know if the ill fated craft was the one their loved ones were aboard. With thousands of navy men serving on destroyers we may assume that all newspaper offices have had similar calls. Yet the Navy, in accordance with its child ish belief that the American people can’t stand bad news, has withheld the destroy er’s name. There may be some excuse for not issuing the casualty lists of such acci dents until the next of kin can be officially notified. But the Navy is keeping many a household in anguish by withholding this name. If the idea is that relatives and friends of survivors would be unnecessarily alarmed, the authorities responsible for it overlook the fact that until the name is published rela tives and friends of every man known to be on a destroyer in Atlantic coastal waters but lacking knowledge of its position at the time of this tragic explosion can know no peace as long as the name is withheld. _v_ Too Many Words Ever since Prime Minister Winston Church ill of Great Britain made reference to basic English in his address at Harvard Univer sity, there has been a constant controversy by radio, in the press, on the lecture plat form and at street corners on the subject, some contending that 850 words are enough for all practical purposes and others claim ing them insufficient for ordinary conversa tion, to say nothing of literary achievement. It was the center of discussion the other day at a regional meeting of the American Dialect Society, in the Men’s Faculty Club of Columbia University. Mrs. Elizabeth Goepp Scanlan, head of the department of speech at Queen’s College, said it is impossible to reduce vocabulary to 850 words. Not less than 1,350, she declared, are needed in any “workable vocabulary.” Without disrespect to the lady, or any other advocate of expanded vocabularies, we would like to ask how many litdrate Americans can correctly use 850 words, to say nothing of spelling them? And that includes the liter ates most proficient in profanity, too. -V Good News There’s always something to be thankful for. Bobbbie pins, for example. The Office of Civilian Requirements has authorized pro duction this year to double that of last. Prospects are good too for more pot scour ers, pins, safety pins and cutlery. And the ladies will be glad to learn there will be more synthetic rubber for tape and girdles. There’ll be plenty of stockings, too, made of lisle and rayon. But nylons are out for the duration. The war absorbs all the nylon that can be produced. Stabilization Director Fred M. Vinson pro poses to revise the price structure to stimu late production, and the first test of his theory will come in textiles. Refrigerators, washing machines, alarm clocks, automobiles and other major con veniences will be as unobtainable as ever, > but many of the little things so sorely mis% ed since Pearl Harbor are coming back. That ^jught to help, Look Here, Mr. Striker (Editor’s Note: This article was written by a Muncie, Ind., sailor aboard a battleship somewhere in the Pacific.) BY KENNETH WALSH I want to show you a bit of hallowed ground —it is the Arlington Cemetery of the South Pacific; it is the Valhalla of American service men. I’m going to show you this bit of ground, but it will be done the nard way. Come with me up Sealark Channel at dawn of a day in August. Yes, Mr. Stiker, 1 want you to stand at the rail with these men, nerves drawn as taut as a violin string—mouths dry, eyes strained to the breaking point, breath coming in short gasps of fear—that awful feeling of nothing ness in the pits of theii stomachs. The ob jective comes into view, the time has come for these men to step out on the stage, and they know full well that death plays the lead ing role in this theater. There they go over the side of the big transport—Tom Jones, Dick Brown, Harry Smith. Hand-over-hand they crawl down the cargo nets into their small craft that is to take them to a rendezvous with that death. You know, it’s death—it is in the destiny of these men. The first objective is reached—the cocoanut grove at the water’s edge. Men are down never to rise again, other men move up to take the places of the faiien. Tne main ob jective is an airfield beyond that fringe of cocoanut trees, and as though God himself has pulled the curtain on this brutal stage, their movements become vague and finally obliterated and these movements become lost to you. The uncertainty, 1he utter feeling of helplessness leaves the element of time sus pended in the hellish hot sun of the tropics. Close your eyes, Mr. Railroad Worker, close them tight; it is another day, in another month; your hands are gripping another rail, the inevitable cocanut tree rail that separates the living from the dead in tnese areas of war. You can open your eyes nqw, Mr. Coal Miner, open them wide. Yes, th^ seeds that have been planted have grown into bloom; the bloom is the row upon low of white crosses that meet the eye. These men have paid the price in full lor just seven small acres of ground, but seven of the most impor tant acres of ground ever owned by Uncle Sam. Restful, isn’t it, peaceful arid quiet—yes, quiet with eternal peace. Read the epitaphs, Mr. Labor Leader, they tell a story in them selves—America, the Land of the Free. There’s a Star of David beside a pair of rosary beads UWI1CU uy ouiiic uiMUUctri. rx cupitun vx lvxa rines and a colored boy from Georgia sleep side by side—a lieutenant from Indiana, a sailor from North Dakota, an aviator from Ohio, from here, from there, from every star in the flag, a cross in the ground. Tom Jones, Dick Brown, Harry Smith. It’s their home now, some 7,000 miles from home. These men were making $50 a month, Mr. Striker, $50 a month, room and board. When you were a kid, Mr. Striker, you studied about the American heritage of “life, liberty and the pursuit of nappiness.” Well, read it again and then again, study it; delve back into the pages of American history and show me anything in the American creed of living that will justify your war-time strikes. Come out here with us in these South Pacific waters and stay a while. Eat our chow, sleep in our sacks, watch us work, help us fight these jungle flies, help us kih malaria-bearing mosquitoes. Walk with us through the mud and the slime of the swamps of these jungle islands; walk with us in the sweltering, steamy heat of a noon-day sun. Ther^ isn’t any air conditioning out here, Mr. C. I. O., and there isn't any way you can strike foi it, either. You haven’t even the time to think about it. Come with me to the bridge over the jungle river. I want you to see someone who would make you ashamed of that extra 50 cents an hour you get in your -pay envelope. He’s just a 17-year-old kid that the brass hats put on duty at this infrequent bridge for the simple reason that he isn t sure ot nimsen any more. Did I hear you ask what’s wrong with him? He was on a destroyer that took three "fish” amidships and blew up Mr Twenty-Dollar a-Day-Man. His brother was on that ship, too. There were but a lew survivors from a crew of 300, and his brother was not among them. He’s plainly shell-shockea. Talk to him a while, watch him; he’ll bre.ci: your heart, man, if you have one. Did you ask me how much money he makes? It’ r. $50 a month, Mr. Welder—$50 a month, room and board. And here’s a guy I want you to meet—a left-handed Marine. What’s so remarkable about that” I should make myselt cleat. He’s learning to be a left-handed Marine. A Jap slashed off his right hand at the wrist as he was climbing out of a foxhole on Guadal canal. He is making $50 a month, room and board. Ask him how near-sighted the Jap is reputed to be. He'll tell you that in a morn ing check-up no less than 25 of his buddies were found dead at their posts, shot through the head, Mr. Slacker. Found 7.000 miles from home in a God-forsaken hoie or a God-for saken bit of land. Not very nice to hear about, is it? But it’s the brutal truth. Think about it the next time you sit over a big steak dinner in your comfortab'e home. See that boy sitting ovei there on that hatch cover, Mr. A. F. of L.? He’s only 22—just a boy, maybe the ore that lived down the street from you. He looks down in the mouth, doesn’t ne? Why shouldn’t he? Some time this week his wife is going to have a baby, but he’s not going to be there when it happens. He has to stay out here for the deration. . . “Wonder ii it’s a boy or a girl; hope it’s a ooy. 1 wonder if my wife is well. Please, God, she doesn’t die— she can’t die—I’ve got to get home.” Fifty dollars a month, Mi. Steel Worker, $50 a month, room and board. A ship today is oringmg in a cargo of human suffering. Come down to the quay with me and witness the transition of young America. The men on the wharf become tense, the music has a sound to it that is ol the infinity as all eyes are strained toward the slowly descending gangway, ine in-si man ul mcac thousands of battered troops tortuously feels his way to the ground, the band strikes up the “Star-Spangled Banner” as soldier after soldier follows in his wake. But what is this? What i: wrong? These men have to be led! The^ ^aren’t sure of themselves as they stumble and fumble their way to solid ground. Mr. John L. Lewis, look into eyes that are open, but see not. Watch lips that move, but say noth’ng. Look at the stumps dangling from their bodies that once were arms and legs. Look into the souls of these shell-shocked, tear-ridden, malaria sick men that are not men but sacks of skin and bones. Nerves gone, minds tem porarily deranged, bodies numb from being stretched on the searing rack of war. But stay a while. Mr. Striker, don't leave me now! Do you hear the bugle in the far distance blowing taps? It has an unearthly sound and it is for the unearthly that it is being played. The big boom on the hospital ship swings downward and picks up the last of her cargo—the wicker baskets of the dead. Look around you, man. Those are tears you see in t& eyes of these hard-bitten vet “SPIKED!”__J / ■> I _ Raymond Clapper Says: New Year’s Party Aboard Navy Plane Was Simple By RAYMOND CLAPPER HONOLULU. — Our New Year’s Eve party aboard a Navy freight plane bound from San Francisco to Honolulu was a simple one. Frank Mason, special assistant to Secretary of the Navy Knox, and I were the only hitchhikers aboard. We were tucked among mailbags and a cargo of war sup plies. It was just midnight in the East. Frank and I climbed to the top turret of our big seaplane and stood there looking out on the lights of San Francisco as they faded in the distance. After a si lence. moved simultaneously by the same impulse we grasped each other by the band and said: “God bless our folks back home!’’ Then we went below, where the crew had a New Year’s Eve din ner prepared by the Chinese boy, who came from Hong Kong three years ago to join *he Navy and learn English. Heavy slabs of warm pot roast were served in paper plates, along with peas, fresh tomato salad, coffee, and a box of cigars bought by the crew. As we sat down, Navigator Hank Phillips proudly passed around bright pai er caps and New Year’s Eve noisemakers that he had bought during the afternoon at Ala meda. Hank is the comedian of the crew, and he made our mouths water by his pantomime of drink ing New Year’s toasts in cham pagne. Hank didn’t say much about it, but he was thinking about the baby of which he expects to become the fathe. shortly, back in Janesville, Wis. In fliers’ lingo, Hank said the baby’s “ETA”—es timated time of arrival—is Jan. 12. After that we felt safe, be cause he is determined to be back in San Francisco on the date of the baby’s arrival. It surprised me to learn that most of the officers and men of this squadron are married. They claim the honor of being “the most pregnant squadron in the Navy.” Of some 200 officers, all except a dozen either are fathers or ex pect to be soon. So these men of Capt. Den Smith’s naval air trans port organization are known as the Stork Squadron. Out of thousands of flights, run ning at ieast one a day over the longest regular water jump in the world, they have never had a plane even forced down. At this point I knock on wood. You ought to know this crew, because they are carrying a lot of your mail to your sons and brothers and husbands in the Pa cific—thousands of pounds of it every day. In fact, on this huge seaplane Frank Mason and I look like just a couple more mailbags, wrapped in the fur-lined leather flight coats the crew provided for us. The ship is in command of Capt. Gary W. Bishop, of Corbin, Ky. The first pilot is Ensign Alfred Coha. Merrick, N. Y. The second pilot is Ensign Wiiliam G. Foster, Johnstown, N. Y., who was at the wheel during part of our dinner erans as they watch the baskets being lowered to the dock and draped with the flag for which the dead have given their lives. Yes, Mr. War Plant Striker these men are getting $50 a month—$30 a month, room and board.—Atlanta Journal. party but wore a paper New Year’s cap white in the cockpit so he stayed in the spirit of the thing. Others of the crew: Lieut. Wil liam P. Hill, Richmond, Va., nav igator; Lieut. Henry C. Phillips, Janesville, Wis., navigator; George Denton, Willows, Cal., first engi neer; David Lowiie, Baltimore, second engineer; Hugh Ballantyne, Santa Rosa, Cal., first radioman; Robert Swaynie, Indianapolis, sec ond radioman; Lawrence How, of San Francisco, orderly. The men argue, the way every body else does, about when the war will end. Each school of thought has its own slogan: "Back Alive in Forty-Five," “Out of This Fix in Forty-Six," • Oh Heaven in Forty-Seven,” an'’ “The Golden Gate in Forty-Eight.” That’s as far as they’ve worked out t h e schedule. I might add that for each of those years there are also other slogans that wouldn't pass the cen sors. The men talk a great deal about their families, and about incidents of previous flights, but relatively little about the war as a whole. No wonder. They are busy run ning back and forth between San Francisco and points in the Pa cific, and they have their own work to do. For amusement they play poker or listen to “Tokio Rose,” who is their chief laugh. When Tokio Rose coos in soft English, “Listen, honey, how do you like those 4-F’s back home taking your girl?’’, fellows like Hank who are waiting for the stork think it's a good joke. We have no hangovers from our simple New Year’s celebration, but as Captain Bishop said, "What a hell of a way to make a liv ing!” COMMISSIONED NEW BERN, Jan. 4.—Raymond Eugene Sumrell, son of Eugene Sumerell ol New Bern, has .jeer commissioned a second lieutenant in the Army Air Corps at Big Spring, Tex. He has been ordered to report at Salt Lake City for du ty^ The Literary Guidepost By JOH SELBY “HALLELUJAH,” by Fannie Hurst (Harpers; $2-50). A Novel like Fannie Hurst’s “Hallelujah” leaves a conscien tious reviewer in a very bad spot, Miss Hurst has an audience, and I presume the audience will like “Hallelujah.” 1 found it impossi ble to read the novel to be frank— at least to read it straight through. It is the story of a woman whose life was shaped by the fact that her mother had flung a knife at a male friend of hers, and though; lessly aimed it so it stuck in his jugular vein. The result was prison for Mrs. Browne and a good deal of difficulty for Mrs. Browne’s daughter Lily. The Brownes lived in a small Missouri town called Perkins, which is possibly intend ed to be Kirksville, since there is a school of osteopathy in Kirksville and so far as I know this is tha only school of the sort in a small Missouri town. It happens that Lily is just plain “good.” She survived all her diffi- i culties with the Jtelp of an ex- 1 convict named CPhander, of all 1 hings. Lily does not consider her self put upon by the load she car ries; indeed Lily does not consider uerself at all, which makes her seem a little inhuman most of the time. This is a story that requires le markably' good writing if its hero ine is not to seem a slightly tar nishe'd Pollyanna—a kind of liter ary OScar brought out for tern porary exhibition. And although Miss Hurst has spent quite a lot of time on the book (she says her usual speed is a novel every two and a half years) she has been irritatingly careless on almost -very page. One can forgive clum sy construction and such in a has tily constructed piece provided there is a point to the piece, but aot when the work in question is i novel which presumably has been written over a period of many months. There are innumerable •ough spots in “Hallelujah” and i regal disregard for many rules )f writing. Perhaps the plot will tnchani. Miss Hurst’s admirers, al Hough I doubt that even these will ake much stock in Oleander. Gen. Schuyler Announces New Designation For Three Well Known Davis Bands CAMP DAVIS, Jan. 4.—Change of designation of three military bands stationed at Camp Davis was announced today by Brig. Gen. C. V. R. Schuyler, command ing general of the antiaircraft ar tillery training center here. The 141st Army Band, directed by CWO Loy Ebersole, was for merly the First AATC Band. The 142nd Army Band, conducted by Warrant Officer Daniel Wolfsie, had previously been designated as the Fourth AATC Band. Also changing its number is the 143rd Army Band, heretofore carrying the identification of the Third Ar my Ground Force Band. This unit is directed by CWO Ernst Gersch. All three organizations are well known throughout Wilmington particularly, and North Carolina, generally, for their wide range of activity. In addition to playing for military affairs, the three bands of versatile musicians have ob tained wide popularity through playing for dances and other so cial functions. -V No Renewal Necessary For Certificates Of War Necessity In 1944 Certificates of War Necessity is sued by the Office of Defense Transportation are for the dura tion of the war and need not be renewed for 1944, G. T. Mussel man, District Manager of the ODT in Wilmington, declared yesterday. The ODT District Manager pointed out that many queries have been recieved by his office from persons wanting to renew their ceritficates for next year’s operations. The mileage allotments author ized by the certificates for 1944 will stand for 1944 unless changed by the ODT, he declared. How ever where new certificates have been sent operators, such opera tors should return their old certifi cates .nd all supplemental certifi cates to the Office of Defense Transportation, 604-607 Murchison Building, Wilmington, North Caro lina. Such certificates are necessary for operators of commercial ve hicles to receive gasoline and tires. With The AEF By Kenneth l. dixon WITH The AEF IN ITALY, Dec. 29—(Delayed)— UP) —News notes from along the front: Back in Denison, Tex. Robert L. Cox always got a candy cane each Christmas from Mrs. Venn* Hartson, a neighbor, it was a sort of standing joke between the Cox and Hartson families. Tony Giarraputo, who ran the candy kitchen in Denison, always made the cane but this year Tony closed his store because he was getting old and because materials were so hard to get. But which Mrs. Hartson remind ed him of the annual candy cane, Tony hobbled out into his own kit chen and made the peppermint cane, giving it to Mr. Hartson with tears in his eyes. Robert Cox, a lieutenant colonel of infantry now, had just a touch of a catch in his own voice when he got the gift and the note about Tnnv shortlv afterwards. But he and the other officers and men of his command post had decided to share their Christmas candy with the kids of war ravag ed Mignano. So the candy cane went to » five- year-old Italian boy whose bandaged head showed the effect of a German mine and whose home was a filthy cave. Sixto Frausto, of El Paso, Tex., is not an officer; he is only a communcations buck sergeant but when the chips are down he'll do until an officer comes along. During the last attack on San Pietro, only one officer was left in Sgt. Frausto’s company and he was wounded. Sixto was not even the senior noncom but he took over the leaderless men and got them dispersed in fighting positions. Then he slipped across 50 yards of open field where even the leaves were shredded off the bushes by the Nazi machine gun fire and re ported to the battalion command er. “I told him to keep the men in position and I’d send another of ficer over,” the C O. said later. ‘I did and he was killed on the way. But Sgt. Frausto got tnere and he continued to lead the com pany during the rest of the at tack.” And the survivors of that bunch of kids who had stormed the slopes of San Pietro again and again fol lowed the non commissioned com pany Frausto without faltering and took their objectives. Private Ray J. Scott, of Seattle, Wash, was supposed to be just a runner between a battalion com mand post and a forward artillery observation post but he turned out to be a jack of all trades—a mas ter at them all. The Germans got the range on the observation post and killed the radio operator. The forward ob s'erver was killed and the radio knocked out by exploding shell. But Pvt. Scott started tinkering with it. Got it to working and then took over the observation work too. He called for more fire to get the counter-attacking Jerries just in front of him. It got them and kept knocking his radio out of itUiiiiiiioaiisii uut 11c: iycjji muicuug it back into operation again. Final ly it was wrweeked so badlv that he picked it up and carried it back to the command post. But that time, the Jerry counter attack had the battalion cornered but it didn’t care to withdraw for fear it might expose the flank of one of the other outfits. Pvt. Scott volunteered to go through the in terlacing' enemy mac'hinegun fire and mortar barrage to the regi mental command post for orders. Somehow he made it both ways and brought orders to withdraw temporarily. Then he l«t a group of litter bearers out into the battle area to pick up wounded, he led a pa trol to get information on the ene my positions—and got it—paving the way for a successful attack the next day. That's the Seattle kid—a clean cut quiet guy who, when operating the observation post all alone un der heavy fire, identified himself to a puzzled command post radio operator with: “That’s who I said. Pvt. Scott—just Pvt. Scott.” -v Daily Prayer FOR UPLIFTED EYES Our eyes incline to the earth of everydayness, and we forget to look up to the stars, and to Thee, eternal Son of Righteousness and Source of all power. We come be fore Thee confessing this sin. We know that ‘Where there is no vi sion the people perish.” We pray for anointed and uplifted eyes; and for deliverance from all sordid ness. May the things of the spirit which are our true life, be more real to us than all the material concerns of the passing days. En able us to keep our eyes fixed upon Tnee, our Lord and our Deliverer. Above the clamor of battle, and above the war-time limitations of civilian life, may we discern the eternal spiritual values. Grant un to us the fulfilment of the Beati tude, ‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” However dark our personal lot. re ward us and sustain us with a consciousness of Thyself, the ever living and supreme God. Thus pre pare us for the glorious day when we shall see Thee as Thou art Amen.—W.T.E. -..-V TO ENTER SCHOOL BRIDGETON. Jan. 4. — Leo Lewis, Jr., of Bridveton, petty of ficer second-class, USN, will leave here Friday for Cleveland, Ohio to enter the Diesel Electric school there for advanced training.