The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

Pretty good shot for an old plumber.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Y'know," comments Joe as he and Sally exit Loew's Metropolitan after a matinee screening of "Phantom of the Opera," "I don' t'ink t'at pitcheh was as good as Lon Chaney. I mean, t'at pitcheh Lon Chaney made, it wasn' a tawkie, it, you know, wasn' awl in Technicoleh, an' it didn' have no Nelson Eddy innit a'nut'n. But not havin' awlem t'ings made it -- you know, scarieh." "Yeh," agrees Sally. "T'at Lon Chaney one, t'at scaiet me t'deat'. T'is one -- eh." "Ya ma was tellin' me," chuckles Joe, "'bout how afteh ya saw t'at pitcheh Mickey come up behind yeh when y'was playin'a pianneh, an' ya jumped up an' push't'im t'ru a windeh." "Yeh," muses Sally. "Maybe t'at's wheah it awl stawrted wit' him." "Whatchamean?" asks Joe. "Ahhhhh, you know," sighs Sally. "Awla -- well, trouble he's got inteh. Awlem t'ings. He wasn' brung up t'at way, but..." "Yehhhhhh," nods Joe, choosing his words carefully. "Funny how a kid can -- well, you know." "I don' like t'is Marie Belasco," interjects Sally. "I don' like t'way she acks, I don' like t'way she tawks, an' I really don' like t'way she treats t'at kid." "I don' t'ink she likes us, neiteh," agrees Joe. "T'way she was lookin' at you durin'a T'anksgivin'neh. An' you oughta see t'way she looks at Ma -- I mean, evr'y time Ma says anyt'ing to 'eh, she looks daggehs right back. An' she ain' said two woids t'me eveh since we met 'eh. She makes me noivous. I tried t'tawk t'Ma about it, but she din' wanna heah nut'n. She says "that chil' is me gran'son, an'nats t'end of it." "I wish Mickey was heeh," exhales Sally. "He'd do t'right t'ing." "I dunno," comments Joe. "I mean, he had, what, t'ree a' foueh yeehs t'do t'right t'ing. He might be oldeh'n you, but he really ain' much but a kid 'imself." "Man enough t'be in a prison camp," snaps Sally. "Yeh," shrugs Joe, as they descend into the BMT. "I guess...")

Combined Allied striking power against Germany will be beyond stopping by spring, observers in London predicted tonight, and in diplomatic circles some suggested that the destructive forces of the United Nations, in the air and on the ground, are capable of smashing Hitler's Reich before the end of winter. There are, however many imponderables weighing on any prediction of the future course of the war, including the true effect of this week's heavy air bombardment of Germany, and military quarters remain impressed by the strength of the German army at its core, and the "bitter fighting spirit" encountered by Russia and Italy on the fighting fronts. But in reckoning with the possibilities of a German collapse inherent in the present situation, the Allies must also consider the possibility that the German Army itself may attempt to negotiate an end to the war while its land power is still intact and before the Allies can carry its attack very far into Germany itself. Recent hints of peace feelers by so-called "conservatives" within the German military suggest that possibility, although it must be stressed that those officers at this point do not seem to enjoy wide support.

The occupied nations of Europe today strengthened plans to demand the return of loot taken from them by Germany, particularly emphasizing cultural treasurers and industrial machinery. Norwegian ambassador Wilhelme Munthe de Morgenstierne told a press conference in Atlantic City, New Jersey today that Germany must be made to pay for whatever postwar aid it is allowed by the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration now being established by 43 Allied nations.

The problem of crime in Bedford-Stuyvesant could be solved by the same methods employed twenty years ago in Red Hook, declares civic worker Frank Peer Beal, who has fought such problems in the borough for more than forty years, and who served for ten years as executive secretary of the Community Council of New York. "We don't need any more surveys," declared Beal. "We have had surveys enough. We know that to cut down crime in a rundown neighborhood we have to give its children playgrounds, athletics -- something organized to do with their physical lives. That's what we did in Red Hook." The hullaballoo about crime in Red Hook in the 1920s was very similar to that now in evidence in Bedford-Stuyvesant, notes Beal, "even to the fact that a single racial strain dominates the population. In Red Hook it was Italians, as against Negroes in Red Hook." He observes that a Red Hook Community Council was formed, and under its auspices campaigns were successfully waged to push the Parks Department into improving neglected playgrounds, and to induce the Fire Department to allow the use of designated fire hydrants as summer showers for youths. The Atlantic Street recreational pier was built. A new housing project followed. "Today you don't hear of Red Hook as a crime center," Beal declared.

(Boake Carter was one of the most prominent radio commentators of the 1930s, known especially for his anti-labor, anti-New Deal polemics, until he embraced the cult of "British Israelism,." which taught that Anglo-Soxons are the lineal descendents of the "Ten Lost Tribes of Israel," and that therefore Britain and the United States, and not "fleshly Jews," are the only true heirs to the Biblical "birthright of Jacob." This movement still exists today, as does its mutated Nazi offspring, the "Christian Identity" movement.)

("Huh," huhs Alice. "I sen' inteh t'papeh t'at me'n Siddy is engaged, but t'ey ain' put it in." "I wouldn't worry," reassures Mrs. Ginsburg. "Put the paper down, now, so I can get your measure." "It's swell ya gonna make me wedd'n dress," grins Alice. "I neveh had nobody make me a dress. I awrways hafta getcha, you know, ready-t'-weah." "Hold still now," continues Mrs. G, "so I'm not sticking wit' the pin." "That's not the way to do it," comments Mr. Ginsburg, entering the parlor behind a billowing pipe. "Poot down the pins, Esther, an' let me show." "Careful you don't stick her," admonishes Mrs. G. "Fifty years I'm a tailor," dismisses Mr. G. "I should start sticking people now." "OW!" erupts Alice, as a pin finds its mark. "Wait," says Mr. G. "Where's my glasses? I need my glasses." "On your head," replies Mrs. G, pointing to her husband's forehead. "Up here, your glasses." "Oh," replies Mr. G, shifting the lenses into their proper position. "You ain' gonna stick me again," admonishes Alice. "You won't feel a thing," assures Mr. G. "Such a bride you'll make." "I hope so," blushes Alice. "All right," declares Mr. G. "I got her pinned up. Now give with the tape. Good. Now write down the measure, write down. Chest, forty eight inches, forty eight. Waist -- forty inches. Inseam..." "HEY!"" protests Alice. "Sorry," apologizes Mr. G. "Fifty years I'm a tailor...")

(0-and-11? BRING BACK THE BROOKLYN AMERICANS!)

There is virtually no trade talk brewing as baseball prepares for the Wednesday opening of the Winter Meetings at the Hotel New Yorker. The present silence on the part of baseball executives has prevailed since the end of the World Series, although both of the major leagues as well as the highest level of the minors are assured of carrying on in 1944. None of the 16 big league clubs know for certain who will still be on their rosters when the training camps open, and none know what players will be available to fill draft-induced vacancies between now and then. Because of all this it can be assumed for a certainty that there will be no major trades during the sessions ahead. The greatest controversy likely to be taken up is that of voting authority within the National Association, governing body of the minor leagues. With only nine minor leagues currently in operation, the three Double-A level circuits -- the International League, the American Association, and the Pacific Coast League -- see the situation as an opportunity to re-align National Association voting rules to give them greater authority over minor league operations. Judge William Bramham, czar of the bushes, is known to oppose the Double-A leagues on this point, arguing that without equal voting authority, the Class D circuits might as well go out of business for good.

The president of the Milwaukee Brewers of the American Association has resigned his position to enter the armed forces. Bill Veeck Jr, son of the former president of the Chicago Cubs, has made a name for himself in Milwaukee for his clever promotions, with his daffy antics having served to make the Brewers by far the most colorful club in the Midwest. He was sworn in yesterday as a buck private in the U. S. Marine Corps, but has been granted a ten-day furlough to attend the Winter Meetings in New York, where he will wind up his personal and baseball affairs before reporting for "boot training" in San Diego on December 6th.

(If you're going to commit a crime, always tie your gloves to a string inside your coat.)

(Fat Hermann and Wheaties? It just doesn't seem right.)

(AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW)

(That's right, keep moving and you won't be cold. And I bet that dog was a lot smarter than his owner.)

(The Sugar Bowl? POPPA JENKS WON'T LIKE THIS!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I thought that headline said "Chaplin," and I was about to say something really sarcastic.

"Hmph," hmphs Ma, "Such corruption!"

Aw, do like I do and hang the washing in the kitchen. Just not over the stove, you don't want it dripping in the soup.

The first two pages of the comic section are missing, so we don't get to see Laffy writhing in pain for today.

Annie's approach to the war is, alas, more productive than Judy's. And very much less disturbing.

Plushie has a real future in television. Chester has a real future in Juvenile Hall.

Hey Jack, maybe you shoulda rubbed toothpaste on your knee.

Hey Honey, being an actual first-grade teacher pays better. And I'm sure the first thing the crew of the Dixie Belle went for was Cokes.

Have a Coke, kid.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Crossed fingers for Grett and crew.

Maureen O'Sullivan hands down favourite pin up girl.

That Robertson kid only 17 and scored three bridal victories. A Twentieth Century Fox movie Tom Jones.
Really admire Jack the Lad jolly rodger done right.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(The sun has barely risen as a downstairs thumping rouses Ma Sweeney from a deep slumber. "Francis," she mumbles, yanking on the blankets. "Settle down." "Mmmprh," responds Uncle Frank, yanking the blankets back. The thumping continues, and Ma sits up in bed, reaching for her glasses. "Someboody's down aat the front door," she determines. She glances at the alarm clock on the nightstand, and frowns. "Marie should have the store op'n by now," she sputters, stumbling out of bed and pulling on her robe. "Oi'll settle harr hash." "Mpprrhr," replies Uncle Frank, rolling back over in bed. Donning her slippers, Ma pads down the stairs and finds the store dark and the shades drawn. "Bloody hell," she mutters, stepping to the door. She undoes the latch and opens to reveal a red-faced man in a leather jacket, blowing his hands for warmth. "Ain'cha open?" he inquires. "Need t'get me papehs an'a packa smokes." Ma rolls her eyes and beckons him inside, and then steps outside to carry in the bundles of papers on the sidewalk. The leather-jacketed man leans on the counter watching her haul in the papers, and then flips two dimes and a greasy nickel onto the counter. "News an'a Mirror," he requests. "Anna packa Luckies. An'," he adds gesturing to the papers already on the rack, "I do'wanno pink edition," He gestures to the bundles. "Gimme one'a t'em n'eh." Ma scowls, and knifes open two of the bundles, peeling a copy from the top of each, and slaps a pack of cigarettes on the counter. She rings up the sale, and reaches down for the change -- to find the drawer empty. Her teeth clench. "Oi got no change." "Close enough," smirks the customer. "Buy yaself a new bat'robe." He beats a hasty exit, as Ma pulls out the drawer, slams it shut, glances under the counter, and her face reddens with rage. "FRANCIS!" she bellows. "FRANCIS!" Uncle Frank arrives, his own robe loosely tied and his hair ruffled. "We been robbed, Francis," boils Ma. "Look heere, the mooney I left in the till farr Marie t'open oop, it's ahhl gone." Uncle Frank rushes to the front door and examines the lock. "It ain't been jimmied," he declared. "An' none'a the windaars. They moosta used a key." "An' only two people b'sides us got a key," fumes Ma. "Joseph's gaat a key -- an' Marie Belasco." "Bloooody hell," agrees Uncle Frank. "Nora -- what's that paper on the coonter?" Ma grabs at the folded sheet tucked between a straw dispenser and a display of chewing gum. "Dear Gran'ma," she reads, with mounting fury. "Thanks farr ev'rything. P S -- Give me love to Mickey." She slaps the paper down, her lips a tight line. "It's Hops Gaffney put her oop to this," she hisses. "I seen'm plott'n." "Did she get the bank?" asks Uncle Frank. "No, no," replies Ma, " I got that in the safe up in the bedroom closet. She don' know noothin' aboot that. Here now, you go in the back room, see if she got anything oota there. I'm gonna caal the boys." Ma steps to the row of phones on the wall, and notes that the coin box on each one has been prised open. "Bloooooody hell," she growls, as she drops the nickel handed her by the workman into the slot, and dials a BUckminster number. "James," she commands as soon as the line picks up. "That Marie Belasco has skipped with me till. You an' Daniel drop aavr'ything an' foind her. Starrt with Hops Gaffney. Check the railroads aaand the boos stations. No, ye do what ye see fit. Oi want resoolts!" "Well," comes the voice of Uncle Frank, "she cleaned oot the machines -- but she left ooone thing." Ma hangs up the phone and turns to see Uncle Frank standing in the doorway with his hands clamped firmly on the slight shoulders of young, terrified Willie. "Ohhhh," Ma groans. "Blllllllllllooooody hell.")

A special House committee today accused the Office of Price Administration and other executive agencies of using the subsidy programs, Lend Lease, and the needs of the Armed Forces as a "subterfuge" to impose legislation on the country which Congress has failed or refused to enact. In a third interim report on allegations of misuse of authority by the Executive Branch, the committee headed by Rep. Howard Smith (D-Virginia) centered its attack on the OPA, accusing that agency of maintaining meat and cattle pricing policies that "violated express provisions" of the price control act by setting meat ceilings that are "not fair and equitable," and by fixing "indirect ceilings" on the price of live cattle. The committee further charged that Federal agencies procuring dairy products for military and Lend-Lease purposes sought to amend provisions of the Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938 by revoking exemptions from overtime pay for certain dairy industry employees, and by prohibiting contractees from discriminating on the basis of race, creed, color, or national origin in the hiring of employees as a condition of obtaining Federal contracts.

(Deck the Halls...)

Discovery of a huge "shush fund" raised by black marketers in the meat industry led directly to the indictment of thirty wholesale meat firms in Brooklyn, Mayor LaGuardia disclosed yesterday in his weekly radio broadcast over WNYC. Executives of the companies are expected to appear in court today to enter pleas on charges of conspiracy to evade Federal price ceilings. The scheme by which householders were fleeced out of nearly $500,000 in prices charged above the legal limit is believed to be the largest uncovered since the war began. The Mayor cited Police Detective William McBride for discovering the identity of a "man with a bag," containing $43,000 in cash, used to buy the silence of investigators and others aware of the scheme.

(****)

The Eagle Editorialist declares that the conference now underway in Atlantic City to frame a policy for the wise handling of postwar relief in Europe will determine whether the coming peace will be a lasting one, in which the nations of the world demonstrate that they have learned from the errors of 25 years ago. "If the results are not happier," the EE maintains, "it will not be because a sincere effort has not been made to that end.

("Now fill out your time card in triplicate!")

(2 and 8? At least they're not the Rangers.)

(That's not perfume, it's airplane glue.)

("Next time take me someplace else. The old man wasn't so bad, but that creepy little bald kid was too much.")

("Let's kiss." "Let's not.")

(Tight security in this joint.)

("AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG IS ON THE...oh f'gawdsake, not again...")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Marry in haste..." Well, she had to hurry, she probably need to make a rehearsal.

HEAR THAT WISE GUYS?

"Aw, you'll love bein' a paperboy. Lotsa fresh air, best thing in the world for yuh! An' you'll make plenty in tips!"

Come the revolution...

"Oh look, it's Joszef the turncoat. Let's stop here for a moment. Get the rope."

"Sure, Ma. Anything you say."

Ping pong's even harder when you don't have a ball.

Wait'll you get the bill.

"They're hiring down at the shipyard you know!"

"Pardon me while I fluff up my oak leaves."

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Grett is gone.

 

[Fading Fast]

Grett is gone.

I haven't given up hope yet.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

I haven't given up hope yet.

Nor I, but the squawk box chatter our lad heard with Corklin's distanced form speaks too much to reason.
Caniff can pull readers' heart strings but not for a cheap tease.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I hope he's not going the way it looks like he's going. It worked with Raven because we'd had almost two years to get to know her, and become emotionally invested in her. We haven't really had the chance to get to know Grett like that -- and the impact won't be the same if we lose her. Now, Taffy on the other hand...

Incidentally, I hope the China Air Transport office sends Dude Hennick to investigate. I miss him.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

We haven't really had the chance to get to know Grett like that -- and the impact won't be the same if we lose her. Now, Taffy on the other hand...

Wartime unfortunately trumps all and slight acquaint may be more for brevity. Especially a woman.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("T'es no sign'av'eh," reports Jimmy the Chest, as Ma Sweeney stands grimly behind the counter and little Willie perches on a stool, sipping obliviously at a glass of malted milk. "We been awloveh," adds Danny the Neck. "Bus stations, train stations, ev'na aiehpawrts, nobody seen 'eh." "We ev'n went downa t'at grocery stoeh she was woikin' at in Bensonhoist," Jimmy continues. "Not on'y ain'ney seen 'eh, t'ey says t'ey hope t'ey neveh do again!" "Well, what about Gaffney," insists Ma. "Did ye get anything oota him?" "T'Hoppeh don' know nut'n," shrugs Danny. "We had a good lawng tawk wit' t' Hoppeh." "Yeh," affirms Jimmy, wiping a speck from his leather glove. "A good lawng tawk. Very t'orough, in fack." "Yeh," agrees Danny. "By t'way, t' Hoppeh ain' gonna be doin' no hoppin' f'ra coupla days. He said t'tell yeh he ain' feelin' so good t'day, so Jimmy's gonna do his roun's." "Leas' I could do," nods Jimmy. "Yeh," continues Danny. "An' t'marra, why, I t'ink he said sump'n 'bout goin' to t'dentist. So I'm gonna do his rouns' t'marra." "T'at's awful nice'a ya," smirks Jimmy. "I t'ought it was t'leas' I could do. Afteh'rawl, a man's gotta take caeh of his teet'." Ma scowls. "Ahhl roit then," she dismisses. "Then be off with ye -- but if ye pick up any trace of 'er, ye reparrt t'me at...JOSEPH!" "Hiya Ma," greets Joe. "What'sese two charactehs want, finishin' up t'at goose?" "Oh yes," chuckles Ma, "the boys were joost here paahlishin' off a plate'a goose an' stoofin', waaarn't ye boys?" "Oh yeh," agrees Danny. "It's swell," nods Jimmy, patting his stomach. "You boys bettar be oof then," waves Ma. "Aand doon't fargett what I said." "Sure, Ma," affirm the boys as they exit. "Wheh's..." asks Joe, with a gesture that mimes a heavy set of eyebrows. "Oh," flusters Ma, "Marie's gone on a little -- ah -- vacation." "Heh," chuckles Joe. "She on'y stawrted heeh las' week. Mus' be CIO, huh?" "Heh," returns Ma, thru clenched teeth. "Yes, an' the boy there, young Willie, he's going to be -- ah -- stayin' here with me farra while, isn't that so, lad?" Absorbed in blowing bubbles in his milk, and oblivious of Leonora's curious gaze, Willie offers no reply.)

Brooklyn police and community leaders are banding together today to combat juvenile delinquency in the Bedford-Stuyvesant area and in other sections of the borough, following a meeting of ranking police officers and more than 350 business, civic, religious, and professional leaders last night to discuss the problem. Meeting at the Police Athletic League's Kiley Center, 202 Vanderbilt Avenue, the conference was convened by Deputy Inspector William Kent under direct orders from Police Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine to set machinery in motion to solve the problem. The meeting directed the formation of neighborhood community councils, one in each of the borough's thirty police precincts, to be composed of "respectable public-spirited citizens from all walks of life," who will coordinate efforts with the Captain of each precinct and the unit commander in each section from the Juvenile Aid Bureau in covering and combating delinquency in each neighborhood involved.

Meanwhile, the national secretary of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People today criticized the Kings County Grand Jury presentment on crime in Bedford-Stuyvesant, and called for Brooklyn residents to "become articulate" against a grand jury that prescribes "the use of nightsticks over the heads of people who have been kicked about." Secretary Walter White, also a prominent Negro author, charged that the grand jury may have, in its presentment, violated New York State law against incitement to mob violence and race hatred. "If this can be done to one minority today," warned White, "it can and will be done to other minorities tomorrow."

Three deaths in the city over the past ten days from poisonous substitutes for whisky were attributed today to the ongoing shortage of legitimate liquor. City toxicologist Dr. Alexander O. Gettler recalled that, during Prohibition, he saw as many as twenty deaths a week from poison liquor, and warned that "we will have a repetition of that condition unless the better grades of liquor are put back on the market." Dr. Gettler did not reveal the names of the persons who recently died, but did state that they were "poorer people," who were killed by the consumption of rubbing alcohol, wood alcohol, or combinations of both. The executive director of the Conference of Alcoholic Beverage Industries, Kenneth S. Baxter, denied that the present liquor shortage is the result of distributors hoarding supplies in order to drive up prices, and declared that the real reason is that, due to the demands of war production, no liquor has been manufactured in the United States since October 1942.

("I got a whole lotta pennies," declares Sally. "I got a big pickle jawr, an' its awl fulla pennies." "T'at's hawrdin', accuses Alice. "Y'otta not do t'at. It ain' patriotic. Y'otta put'tem pennies back inta whatchacawl soiculation. I c'n show ya how. T'es a game we uset'a play a lot when I was -- um -- livin' upstate." "I know t'at game too," shrugs Sally. "An' I don' play it. T'at's howcome I got a whole lotta pennies!")

(Ho ho ho.)

The Eagle Editorialist predicts that the pounding air bombardments of the Battle of Berlin could bring the war to an end before ground forces have crossed the German frontier, and while Germany itself is in virtual possession of the entire European continent. The current attacks are, the EE notes, just the first wave of an offensive intended to wipe out the Nazi capital, and ultimately, leave the entire city of four million people in ruins, and its entire population dead or terrorized and dispersed. "But," the EE further notes, "this is all part of the pattern of war as it was designed by the Nazis themselves, and as it was imposed with the utmost mercilessness on Warsaw and Rotterdam, on London and Coventry. And it is a pattern which must be followed to the end if the Nazis are to have a clear comprehension of their own kind of war and if they are to be taught the lesson of the war's horrors."

("And make sure I don't smell like spirit gum, too many people are wise to that!")

("Youthful team" = Know any good sixteen-year-olds?)

Baseball Commissioner K. M. Landis may impose a new rule at the Winter Meetings, which will ban managers from announcing their starting pitchers a day in advance. The expected edict from the Judge is seen as an effort to further clamp down on baseball gambling in the wake of the William Cox scandal.

(And that's how juvenile delinquency starts.)

(Wait, I thought Harold got drafted.)

(The goof in the hat is Tubby, Jane's sidekick, who is obsessive about food. Which lends a disturbing nuance to Panel Four.)

(Actually, Potsy would be terrible at playing potsy. It's hard to jump when you're that top-heavy.)

(WHY DOESN"T HE STAY VANISHED!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Did you know Laraine Day is a devout Mormon? Does *she* know?

Not much one can say.

They sure do grow up fast.

Try soy milk, it's better for you.

"Oh, and hang the FCC!"

Careful, Mr. Gray. Remember what happened last time.

"Trust, but Verify."

What are you gonna do with that peashooter, kid -- hold up a candy store?

Well, it's safer than rubbing alcohol.

"I'll have you know John Garfield is NOT a jerk!"

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

This rescue rush is Caniff style pub hush rush tarts and trays. Terrence isn't the immature sort either is he now,
so the picture becomes clear despite all foggy whisps swirled smoke. Grett is lost sure.

 

[Fading Fast]

This rescue rush is Caniff style pub hush rush tarts and trays. Terrence isn't the immature sort either is he now,
so the picture becomes clear despite all foggy whisps swirled smoke. Grett is lost sure.

I still haven't given up hope.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Nor I and thought alone too horrid yet this is war and with all the blood drenched headlines, civil affairs
turned homicidal even, I cannot see a credible escape for Grett and crew. Mr Caniff must adhere to his time
and show the dark lunar surface of the half moon.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Meanwhile, here's Skeezix, lovable kid from the neighborhood we watched grow up, about to, one on one, shoot a guy stone dead before that guy can kill him. War's hell.

 

[Fading Fast]

Meanwhile, here's Skeezix, lovable kid from the neighborhood we watched grow up, about to, one on one, shoot a guy stone dead before that guy can kill him. War's hell.

That's a fantastic observation. It's chilling.

It also explains why that generation often thought its kids and grandkids were whinny and spoiled. Fair or not, and I grew up in 1970s raised by that generation as my dad was 40 when I was born , they thought their kids and grandkids "had it too easy" whenever they complained about anything.

Of course, it's a very complex situation, but you can understand the reflexive feeling they had.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Skeez is 22 years old. Terry is maybe a year or so younger. War is run by old men and fought by boys.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

It also explains why that generation often thought its kids and grandkids were whinny and spoiled. Fair or not...
Of course, it's a very complex situation, but you can understand the reflexive feeling they had.

Here, the last century made indelible societal mark. Starting with the First War and its aftermath, which saw
the forgotten or ''left women'' amounting to 4,000,000 ladies bequeathed spinsterhood. Barbara Cartland the
noted romance author once visited Verdun where the British Army incurred 420,000 casualties and remarked,
''a whole generation of love was lost here.'' The Second War inflicted an estimated 354,000 combatant casualties with German bombardment another 70,000 mixed civil populace. Post war relocale, American GI
marriages and such may have skewered the war's overall affect but reasonable summary comparison to
the First War generation showed widowed women leading families and boys without male guidance.
A complex situation indeed.