The Era -- Day By Day

[EngProf]

By pure coincidence I was recently talking with someone whose father was stationed in Northeast India during WWII, where Terry and his pals are now.

As a sergeant in the Signal Corps, manning a radar station looking for a Japanese attack which never came, he had it pretty well made.
She was in the process of reading his letters that he had sent home from the war.
As she said, "He had FUN while in the Army."
Wonder if he went to see Miss Shoo-Shoo?

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Hey Ma!" shouts Sally, flinging open the door as she bursts into Lieb's Candy Store. "I gotta pos'cawrd fr'm Joe! A pos'cawrd fr'm camp! Fr'm Joe!" "Well now," chuckles Ma, glancing down to be sure Willie hasn't encaged Leonora in a Tinkertoy fort. "He didn' let no grass grow, now did he?" "It ain' much," pants Sally, pulling the card out of her handbag, "but still -- it's fr'm Joe! Lissen heeh t'what he says. He says 'Deeh Sal, I am OK.' See t'eh, he says he's OK!" "I would expect no less," smiles Ma. "An'nen he says 'T'ey awr keepin' me busy, an' I am awready loinin' a lawt. T'ey gimme a haircut but don' worry it will grow back. Ha ha. An' I loint sump'n I did not know. T'ey was givin' me boots an'ney said I got two diff'rn't sizes a' feet. T'ey gimme one size eight D an' one size eight 'na half C. Ya can't say t'Awrmy don' take caeh'ra ya. Moeh lateh, love t' Leonoreh an' awrays t'you, Joe. PS -- Sorry I run outta room.'" "Well now," nods Ma. "T'at's a foine postcawrd." "Look onna front heeh," notes Sally. "It's a pitchehr'a' t' Williamsboig Bank buildin'. I guess he musta took t'at t'camp wit' 'im. Maybe I should sen' 'im one'a t'em letteh writin' kits t'ey got upta Namm's. Hey, Leonoreh, honey, y'wanna see a pos'cawrd fr'm ya pa?" "Ock," reads Leonora, squinting at the back of the card. "Pa ock." "T'at's O-K," corrects Sally. "Means he's doin' good." "Ock," insists Leonora, brandishing a Tinkertoy rod to make her point. "Oi guess he got oota Sperry's joost in toime," notes Ma. "Ye see this here in the paparr? They're layin' people aaahf." "Nah," scoffs Sally. "T'at's Bay Ridge. T'ey wouldn' be layin' nobody awff at Bush Toimenal. I mean, wit' Joe gawn t'eh gonna need t'take awn two-a-t'ree people t' do t'woik he done." "OCK!" shouts Leonora in full agreement.)

A 14-year-old Brooklyn girl missing since January 9th was picked up in Times Square last night as a "victory girl" by a member of the Juvenile Aid Bureau. The girl, described as four feet eleven inches in height and weighing 90 pounds, was spotted on the arm of a serviceman at 3 o'clock this morning. She was sent to the Florence Crittendon League at 427 West 21st Street, and as with all children her name will not be revealed. Two other girls, both over the age of sixteen, and two additional boys over sixteen, one of them missing from home for a week, were rounded up overnight by a detail of policewomen and detectives, bringing to 31 the number taken into custody since the present drive on juvenile vice in the midtown area was launched.

A Bensonhurst woman who was leaving Zion Hospital after congratulating a friend for the birth of her child glanced at a passing stretcher to discover the dead body of her own son. Six year old Stanley Abramson, son of Mrs. Minnie Abramson of 1850 61st Street, had been playing in the street with friends, and darted out from behind a parked car to chase after a ball when he was struck down by a car driven by Nathan Wasserman of 316 E. 91st Street. Mrs. Abramson blanched white and fainted at the sight of her son's body on the stretcher.

("Y'know, Siddy," sighs Alice. "Sometimes I wisht I had a ma. An'nen I read sump'n like t'is." "Yeh," nods Krause. "Hey Siddy," ventures Alice. "Wanna go out t'night 'n get in some bowlin'?" "Yeh," grins Krause.)

The Eagle Editorialist endorses Dr. Morris Fishbein's recent warning in the medical journal "Hygeia" against giving babies cute or whimsical names. "Names that are quaint whimsies when applied to a baby," he warns, "may become burdens to adults." The EE observes, also, that parents should beware of giving their children old-fashioned names that might make them feel conspicuous -- for example, names like "Violet," "Pansy," "Ruby," and "Opal," once popular for baby girls, are already passing out of use and are best avoided. He further warns parents to be careful of initials -- a child named "Henry Oliver Gray," for example, may face an uphill climb when his playmates realize that his initials spell "HOG."

(Who knew Lichty buys gags from John Cheever?)

A 37-year-old Midwood man arrested on suspicion of bookmaking hotly denied the charge. Harry Crisco of 1915 Avenue M insisted to Patrolman Fred Hahn of the 10th Inspection District that the $33 in $1 bills found in his wallet was being saved to pay his income tax.

Former Supreme Court Justice James Clark McReynolds is still an arch foe of the New Deal, and even further, says he's still firmly opposed to the Nineteenth Amendment. McReynolds, who retired from the high court three years ago, maintains that women have no place in government or in the voting booth because, he believes, they are incapable of being "just." McReynolds spends most of his time these days in his book-lined Washington study, noting of his books, "I like to look at these. Unlike a woman they're pleasing to have around."

(Somebody should sign up Ben-Gay to sponsor the '44 Dodgers. And "Playoff Hopes Fade" for the 6-32 Rangers? This is why I couldn't care less about hockey.)

(A mink skirt? Isn't that a bit -- warm?)

(Just get rid of the 'stache. She'll never recognize you.)

(There's always a simple explanation.)

(I wonder how much cops get paid in this town when reporters do all the legwork.)

(Mr. Stamm also needs to get with the times.)

(SUCH LOYALTY)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Some will call "Terry And The Pirates" the quintessential WWII comic -- but others will reserve that honor for "The Sad Sack." A hardcover collection of Sgt. Baker's cartoons is coming out this week in 1944, just in time to show poor Joe what he's in for.

Um. Leave cunning plans to the cunning planners.

BONK! BONK!

They picked him up in Times Square. Long story. Hey, when do we eat?

Jerry Colonna is making the most of his guest shot.

Getting him ready for shift work.

"I bet these doughnuts are how your husband got fat!" "Oh, no -- he's always -- um -- been that way. Uh -- not like... um...."

It's nice to see Lee Tracy getting work again.

That's PETTY OFFICER SECOND CLASS Rattle Brained Hepcat to you!

"It's not your face, it's the rest of you I'm worried about!"

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

The linkage between male pattern baldness, genetics, and dihydrotestosterone will not be fully understood for another thirty years. So yeah, hats.

 

[EngProf]

For my part Bill Mauldin was the best of the WWII Army cartoonists and Willy and Joe were the best subjects. Get a copy of his 1945 book "Up Front" and I think you might agree.

 

[EngProf]

View attachment 593688
For my part Bill Mauldin was the best of the WWII Army cartoonists and Willy and Joe were the best subjects. Get a copy of his 1945 book "Up Front" and I think you might agree.

One more Bill Mauldin:

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Tenna'ra'leven drinks!!!" gasps Sally. "How's a kid drink tenna'ra'leven drinks wit'out droppin' dead?" "Well," shrugs Alice, "y'know, inna lotta t'ese, y'know, clip jernts t'ey wawteh t' drinks down. I know t'ey do it at t' Ol' Reliable, 'cause when it was a speak, y'know, we useta d'liveh..." She trails off, aware of Sally's squinting frown. "Um, when we uset'a d'liveh coppeh pipe, y'know," she inserts. "F't'wawteh t' run t'ru...")

Allied forces, concluding a two month conquest of western New Britain, gained control today of a 3600 mile segment of a former Japanese-held territory stretching across an important water passage between New Britain and New Guinea. American Army troops, pushing from the Arawe base, where they landed on December 15th, effected a junction in the jungles with Marines who invaded Cape Gloucester on December 26th, killing 7000 enemy troops in clearing the area. "The western portion of New Britain," declared a communique, "is now entirely in our hands."

A call for the United States to break off relations with Franco Spain was made today in Congress by Rep. John M. Coffee (D-Washington), who denounced the "silk hatted appeasers" who seek to deal with the Spanish dictator while allowing Hitler to use the fraud of Spanish neutrality as a way of holding Spain like a knife at our throats. Rep. Coffee suggested that "a revolution is brewing" in Spain, and the United States should stand with the Spanish people "in an open battle for their freedom." "Senor Franco," he further stated, "occupies a rather hot seat, perched above a volcano that is due to erupt at any moment." The congressman also noted that the Nazis are becoming alarmed over Spanish opposition to Franco's Falange Party, and that Hitler is "plotting to restore the ba***rd Spanish monarchy" should Franco fall, the better to create the pretense that Spain is breaking with the Nazis.

Republican leaders in Wisconsin are recruiting convention delegates to go to the GOP conclave in Chicago this summer pledged to support Thomas E. Dewey for the party's Presidential nomination -- marking the apparent start of a "Draft Dewey" movement within the party, despite the New York governor's repeated declarations that he is not a candidate. The search for a pro-Dewey slate of delegates follows a visit to the state by Wendell Willkie, who gave his endorsement to a potential slate of Willkie delegates, and unless the Dewey slate is withdrawn, it appears likely that the Wisconsin GOP will face a battle between rival party factions ahead of the convention.

(That Dewey's got his people everywhere.)

(And there's no truth to the rumor that all A&P clerks are wearing Willkie buttons.)

("We've got a lot of questions about postwar foreign aid, but I guess those will have to wait.")

(Better save those knees, Leo. You never know when you might be called on to do a duet with Al Jolson.)

Leo Durocher isn't the only sporting favorite to take up entertaining for the USO. That jolly beer-barrel of the boxing ring Two Ton Tony Galento, one of the few fighters ever to floor Joe Louis, has worked up an act that he'll take on the Army camp route starting February 29th. Tony plans to break in his act, featuring singing, dancing, and acting, at Camp Blackstone, Virigina.

("I polished up my dyed silver fox jacket for YOU?")

(Oh please let the chief spy be Oakdale. Please please please!)

(Fortunately, Jane is wearing the new steel-toed safety pumps.)

(Yeah, it's called 100 percent tipping.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG is known for his unmatchable detective skills.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Well, even a woman of the lowest repute can have a dog so faithful it'll sleep around her neck.

1944 Nominee, Most Daily News Headline Ever.

It's a wonder what a creative cook can do with Spam.

"Sure! A FINE HIT MAN always sticks by his word! Check my references!"

"Just trust your old pal Sam Sleazy." Can't argue with that!

It's either Burma or Kirby Higbe in drag.

Yep. Picked up in Times Square.

Oh, Walt. You're adorable when you're hungry.

Hey Pop, hear anything lately from Aunt Pruny?

SHALLOW.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

The ''jail bait'' adolescent girls pining for American GIs happened here too, ''over sexed, overpaid, over here.''
A bane angst the war and inevitable social consequences wrought hormonal youth.

A Spitalfields spun yarn had a local lass all of fifteen grasping cupid's arrow over a Yank rifleman.
And it became police complaint investagatory romp revealing the American soldier was a fifteen year old GI.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("A skeleton inna celleh!" sighs Sally. "I sweah, t'is town's gett'n crazy." "Ahhhh, y'd be s'prised t'stuff y'c'n find inna basemen'," dismisses Alice. "Siddy says he fin's awlkindsa stuff when he's pokin' aroun' down'eh. One time, he says, he foun'a guy sleepin' inna coal bin." Sally's eyes flare. "What'd he do?" she queries. "Fix't'a windeh," shrugs Alice. "Uncle Frank's a plumbeh," Sally muses. "I wondeh if 'e's eveh foun' anyt'ing like t'at." "Nah," replies Alice. "He knows wheh not t' dig." "What?" "Nut'n.")

Japanese troops remaining today in the Bismarck Archipelago face death or surrender as American air and naval forces lightened their blockade of islands in the New Britain, New Ireland, and Admiralty groups with another smashing blow at the enemy's land and sea power in the Southwest Pacific. In a sweep thru the Bismarck area and the waters around the Solomons, U. S. forces sank an enemy troop-laden ship, a cargo vessel, nine barges, and a Japanese destroyer virtually cutting off all escape routes for the beleaguered enemy garrisons in the area.

Merchants have until tomorrow to obtain supplies of ration tokens before the new system for making change for ration stamps goes into effect on Sunday. The red and blue fiber tokens, with a uniform value of one point each, are available from all banks handling ration accounts. The new red and blue ration stamps in War Ration Book No. 4, each good for ten points, also become valid on Sunday, and without an adequate supply of tokens, OPA regional administrator Daniel P. Woolley warns, it will soon become difficult for merchants to make change.

("I didn't do it." -- Lepke.)

The Eagle Editorialist observes that Prime MInister Churchill's recent report on the progress of the war was delivered under the most favorable conditions since the invasion of Poland -- but it still forsees "a long, bitter struggle ahead." Europe is still "Hitler's continent," warns the EE, and he will yield not an inch of it without a battle. The impending battle for Rome, the EE predicts, is likely to be every bit as bloody and every bit as destructive as the battle for Stalingrad.

("Really, dear? Have you tried grapefruit?")

("Leonora!" shouts Ma, looking up from the paper to see her granddaughter raising a nickel to her mouth. "Poot that down!!" "Oh oh," declares Leonora, biting down on the coin with a scowl. "No good!")

(Snark all you want, Mr. Holmes, but those are the snazziest uniforms I've ever seen. GIVE US A TWIRL!)

(All right for you, Lieutenant Weasel!)

(Next: George is summoned by the Dies Committee!)

(Jane's been reading Elizabeth Hawes too!)

("Shhh! That poor woman in the reducing cabinet will hear you!")

(FACE EATING DOG! FACE EATING DOG! FACE EATING DOG!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Better you should lock up the contemptible dirty rat instead of using him as a prop to satisfy your weird fetish. Uh, "Your Honor."

"Sinatra? Sinatra who!"

"Yeah, whatever. Hey, you've got a bathroom, right?"

"Actually, I wanted to ask you about -- ah -- Mrs. Wallet. Do you think she's -- um -- happy?" "Well, she seems so. And recently? Even more so..."

"Oh, nephew, nephew. You think of me merely as a benevolent dotty old man -- scarcely grasping the scope of my manipulations. Oh, my boy, if only you knew, if only you could conceive how far my tendrils reach..." "What?" "Nothing, my boy, Here's $50,000 in gold in a big canvas bag with a dollar sign on it. Enjoy yourself."

CHILDREN LEARN WHAT THEY LIVE

Small towns stand on a foundation of deep denial.

Pop's doing pretty well for a guy who almost died a year or so back.

The Cure.

Just make sure he stays on his course.

 

[Fading Fast]

Slut shaming 1944 style.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Terrence is working out a plan.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Hitleh is stoopid," reads Alice. "Well, we knew t'at t'day he invaded Russieh!" "Nah, t'at don' say 'stupid,'" chuckles Sally, "ev'n'ough he is. Says 'stooped.' Y'know, like he's awl hunched oveh, like some ol' man a' hunne'd yeehs ol' a'sump'n." "Oh," ohs Alice. "How ol' IS Hitleh anyways?" "TOO ol'," declares Sally. "I t'ink he's, what, fifty-foueh, fifty-five? I read someplace he's t'same age as Chawrlie Chaplin, c'n ya b'lieve t'at?" "Oh," ohs Alice, marveling at the coincidence. "Mus' be why he's got t'same moustache, huh?" "I dunno," shrugs Sally. "But t'ey neveh shoulda let'im live t'at lawng, s'awl I c'n say. I hope t'Russians gett'im, is what I hope. I hope Stalin goes drivin' alawng in one'a t'em p'rades wit' Hitleh's head f'ra hood awrnament, t'at's what I hope." "Maybe," snickers Alice, "he'cn use Goering f'ra spaeh tieh!" "Oh, hey," continues Sally, reaching into her handbag. "I got a letteh f'rm Joe, a reg'leh letteh t'is time. Look heeh. T'at's Camp Upton stationery t'eh, official 'n ev'ryt'ing. Lissen heeh t'what he says. He says 'Deeh Sal. T'ings is settlin' in heeh, awr at leas' I'm figyehrin' out t'lay a' t'lan'. I am in a barricks -- huh, he don'know howta spell'at woid, I guess -- barricks wit'' -- an'nis numbeh heeh is blacked out -- 'ut'teh guys. Most of t'em is jus' kids sev'nteen an' eighteen yeehs ol', an' a lot of'm cawl me Pop. T'oity yees ol' goin' on t'oity one, an'ney cawl me Pop. I ask ya.' An'nen he says 'So fawr awl I been doin' is loinin' stuff like how t' mawrch an' how t'drill an' it' makes me feel like a chorus boy a' sump'n. T' sawrge yells at me 'cause sometimes I f'get meself an' t'row in a little'a whatcha cawl syncopatin' when I am doin' t'steps. One time he said 'T'is ain' Roselan'!" an' I awrmos' laughed out loud. T' sawrge don' like it when ya laugh out loud. I ain't done no gun shoot'n yet, but t'at is comin' up soon. Tell Uncle Frank I have got so I don' close my eyes when I'm holdin'a gun, an'nat's sump'n. Moeh lateh, miss ya an love ya, an' Leonoreh too. Tell ev'rybody I say h'lo an' keep'm flyin', love, Pvt. Jos. Petrauskas.' An'nen down heeh, see t'is? T'at's his serial numbeh." "Ah," nods Sally. "Y'neveh f'get yeh serial numbeh. Mine was -- um..." "When did you eveh have a serial numbeh," frowns Sally. "Um, at t', um, home when I was wit' t'sistehs," Alice stumbles. "Yeh. T'ey cawl't it 'tat cause it was t'numbeh y'had t'give when y'got y'oatmeal f'breakfas'." "T'at's a good letteh," ignores Sally, putting the missive back in her bag. "Pop." she snickers. "I hope he ain' gett'n awl stooped," chuckles Alice.)

Officers at the Brooklyn Navy Yard yesterday denied charges that discrimination against Negro workers is practiced at the yard, in an unprecedented press conference during which employment records were displayed to reporters. The charges were made by welder Leo Mercer, who was suspended from his job for five days after he was accused of sleeping while on duty. In charging that he was being made the target of racial discrimination in violation of Federal law, Mercer bypassed the appeal mechanism at the Yard itself and wrote a series of letters directly to Washington in which he stated his case. The case has been turned over to the Fair Employment Practices Committee for action. At the press conference yesterday, Rear Admiral Monroe Kelly deplored the FEPC's intercession in the matter, declaring that he could see "no reason why outside agencies should come in here to investigate," and dismissed Mercer's charges as "a disgusting demonstration of behind the scenes quibbling." Rear Adm. Monroe produced a report from a Navy lieutenant outlining the charge against Mercer, and stated that Mercer himself had confessed to sleeping on the job -- but the statement attributed to Mercer, and shown to reporters, was not signed, and Mercer himself denied making any such statement. Mercer, due to his "good record," was given the mildest discipline possible and is back on the job, but he insists he will not drop the case until his good name is cleared.

With Louis "Lepke" Buchhalter scheduled to face the electric chair on Thursday, the convicted Murder for Money kingpin's last chance for life appears to be taking his appeal to Federal court on the claim that he is being illegally held by the State of New York while he is still, officially, serving a Federal sentence for narcotics convictions. Lepke still has several years remaining on that 14-year sentence.

("Oh, and this fellow Lichty. What about his audit?")

Reader Dr. Bernard Lazarus praises Wendell Willkie as "a distinguished and colossal genius," and endorses his candidacy for the White House as "a great victory for genuine democracy." "It is not necessary to go into detail at this time," adds Dr. Lazarus, "for his record is well known."

("Are you serious, boy?" thunders Mr. Rickey at his quivering associate. "I am," stutters Mr. Parrott. "We should sign Danny Kaye to play second base!" "The man is a low comedian!" rumbles the Mahatma. "A mere Punchinello! A capering jackanapes! A buffoon!"" "All that, um, is true," counters Mr. Parrott. "And we'd probably lose a lot of games! But sir, don't you see -- we're going to lose them ANYWAY! So why not have some FUN?" "You have heard it said, Mr. Parrott," growls Mr. Rickey, his ferocious brows beetling, "that I am a serious man. But I am not without a sense of humor. Your idea, my boy, has small merit -- but merit nonetheless. I shall -- consider." "And if we can't get Kaye," adds Mr. Parrott, "I think Jack Benny might do it." "Benny?" snorts Mr. Rickey. "THAT SPENDTHRIFT???")

Jimmie Foxx, who retired after the Red Sox traded him to the Cubs nearly two years ago, is reluctantly coming out of retirement. At the age of 36, Old Double X feels he might have more baseball left in his aching bones, especially after his oil-business venture failed to make the grade. Foxx, who slugged mightily over his American League career with the Red Sox and Athletics, hit an anemic .205 after joining the Cubs in mid-1942, but is hoping he can improve on that mark this year. He recently submitted his application for reinstatement to National League President Ford Frick, and if approved will report to the Cubs' training camp at French Lick, Indiana.

("Ye know," nods Ma, pointing at the paper spread out on the counter before her, "Sally's roit. Joseph really DOES look like this fellow Jaaahm Garrfield." "Noot any maar," declares Uncle Frank with a sip of his two-cents-plain. "Th' Arrmy has seen't that. Boi now, Joseph looks marr loike a skinned tennis baahl than he does any Hallywood acturr." "Oh," sighs Ma. "Mooch th' pity.")

("Pay Day Dominoes." All those Army guys are the same.)

("Rangaroo." Must be Australian.)

(It's good to see Polly Moran getting work!)

("Heeeee's an old cow-haaaaand, from the Riiiiiio Graaande!")

(It's a living.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I don't usually bother much with the News political column, but "Pepper eats ivy too" is actually pretty funny, especially when you consider that the Senate Republicans of 1944 aren't known for their clever wit.

Well, you wanted them to stop wearing zoot suits...

"See that I'm reserved a seat in the baldheaded row."

Hmph. "An Officer and a Gentleman."

Hey Goofy -- can you play second base?

"Geoffrey Crayone?" What's the matter, Gus Edson isn't good enough for you?

Shyster Sleazy, Sleazy Shyster, it's all the same either way.

"GEORGE!" yells Mrs. Clark. "Haven't you finished that drawing yet??? Unlock this door!"

A FINE HIT MAN never gives a phony name. "Here, have one of my cards!"

There is no truth to the rumor that Mamie modeled for Norman Rockwell.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Oh, and...

Sgt. Bowers, Sgt. Mark, report for prophylaxis!

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

The St Louis Bluezy and the colonel's curiosity chimney sweeps time away to a Brussels NATO intelligence assign
wherein a call girl ring composed American female naval officers became known. I dispatched back to Aldershot
just as things were really poppin with secret camera teams, snaps and film. A real bunch of Mayfair quality pix.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Nope," mutters Sally, examining a paper napkin she has just pressed to her lips. "Not quite." "Whattahr ye doin' tharr, daughter," inquires Ma, gesturing to the scattering of napkins on the countertop, surrounding Sally's empty Coke glass. "Go easy on me napkins now, don'chee know tharr's a paparr shortage?" "I'm practicin' my signatcheh," Sally replies, gazing into an open compact as she daubs her lips with red. "I gotta letteh t' Joe heeh, an' I wanna sign it right." "Ah," nods Ma. "But see here, didn't they say yarr not s'post'a do that on lettars?" "Neh," replies Sally. "T'at's jus' f' V-Mail. T'is is jus' regleh mail, I ain't gotta use V-Mail till'ey sen'im ovehseas." "Well now don' be usin' no marr'a thim napkins, I'll thank ye," admonishes Ma. "Use th' newspaparr." "Oh," shrugs Sally. "Huh. Ain'nut'n onneh I wanna kiss." "What'chee say in ye lettar," queries Ma, moving the napkin dispenser out of her daughter's reach. "It's poissonal," demurs Sally. "I do'wanna tawk about it." "Ah," nods Ma. "Lissen," continues Sally, leaning forward with her elbows on the counter. "I wanna ask ya sump'n. What was it like f'you? When Pa wen' awff inna las' wawr, I mean." "You know full well how that was," snaps Ma. "I don' mean about him, y'know, nawt comin' home," clarifies Sally. "I mean, what was it like when 'e fois' went. How'dja feel?" "Ah," sighs Ma, her arms folded. "Ah. Well, Oi guess Oi'd have t'say Oi thought it was roit foolish. Thim takin' a man with a woife an' two little children, a poor bog-trottar didn't know noothin' but layin' bricks, drinkin' an' gamblin', an' sendin' 'im aaahf t'foit in some waar he didn't know noothin' about. Oi thoght it was foolishness then, an' Oi still think it was foolishness. Thar I was, a yoong garrl baaaaarely aahf th' farm, left t'fend f'me self with two children t'bring oop, havin' t'hire oot doin' oothar people's laahndry. An' he's ovaar thar in France cuttin' caaapars an' havin' himself a hoigh ol' toime. Foolishness! An' Oi didn't know what any oov'it was aaahl aboot! An' thin when he roons aaahf with his French taaart an' doos'nt coom home, well, thanks be t'Gawd Francis coom'alaaang when he doon, ahhr Oi don't know what wooda becoom'v us. *He* taught me what it was aaahl aboot." Sally reflects for a long moment. "Ma," she queries, "what IS it awlabout?" Ma lets out a long sigh and takes up her cleaning rag. "Oi'll tell ye, daaaghter," she concludes, "when yerr oldarrr.")

Four Red Army units pressing westward toward the Baltic states along a 150-mile front captured more than 300 towns and settlements yesterday as they advanced to within thirty miles east of Pskov, on the northern end of the line, while opening a drive in the south toward the last German-held longitudinal railroad in northern Russia. Broadcast communiques from Moscow indicated that the German retreat was fast developing into a rout as the Russians were using captured artillery and ammunition to shell the fleeing enemy.

Screaming mad with thirst, Japanese troops leaped from their foxholes to meet death on the bayonets and knives of hard-bitten American soldiers and Marines on Eniwtok Island. A delayed report received from United Press correspondent Richard W. Johnston, accompanying the American forces in the attack, called the assault on the island, which began last week, "a battle of exermination, in which men close in and die with the enemy's hot breath on their faces." Soldiers and Marines with flamethrowers are burning Japanese resistance out of its pillboxes and trenches, with other men ready to bayonet them as they emerge. Footsoldiers of the 106th Infantry and the 22nd Marines were said to be red-eyed and moving as if i a trance after fifty hours without sleep, but were said to be nearing victory on Eniwtok today.

("What??? I didn't endorse this!" -- G. R. Lee.)

As of this Wednesday, consumers will no longer be required to turn in an empty tube when purchasing toothpaste, shaving cream, or other toilet articles packaged in collapsible metal containers. The War Production Board has discontinued the "tube for a tube" requirement because manufacturers are no longer using a significant amount of tin in the manufacture of tubes. Tin is still, however, considered a vital war material, so householders with old-style tubes still on hand are urged now to bundle them up and turn them in to their druggists.

A mechanical potato peeler will soon take away much of the drudgery for servicemen assigned to the dreaded "Kitchen Police" detail. The Army Quartermaster Corps is introducing a new hand-operated peeler that removes the skin from spuds in a fraction of the time it takes a man to do the job with a simple knife. The device does not remove eyes from the potatoes, however, and those must still be dug out the old fashioned way before the potato is peeled.

("What wouldja t'ink," queries Alice, "if I, you know, was t' volunteeh at one'a t'ese canteen t'ings?" Krause looks up from his workbench, where he is showing young Willie the inside of a dismantled table lamp, shifts his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other and says "Huh?" "You know," continues Alice, "maybe oncet a' twice'ta week, at one'a t'em places like t' YMCA n' stuff. I could dance wit' t' boys, feed'm doughnuts, show'm'a good time." Krause squints, visualizing the image. "You c'd do it too, y'know," she adds. "T'ez WACs n' WAVES 'nawlat goes in'nem places too." Krause ponders, puffing a small blue cloud which drifts listlessly in the glow of the bare dangling bulb over the bench. "I'd feed YOU doughnuts too," cajoles Alice. "Yeh," nods Krause, returning to his work.)

The Eagle Editorialist declares it's about time the pedestrian walk on the Brooklyn Bridge was reopened. While acknowledging that the initial decision to close the promenade due to the risk of sabotage made sense at the time, the EE points out that far more damage could be done by a saboteur in a car. "There is still a little inconvenience," the EE notes, "but what's the point of having a promenade if promenaders are forbidden?"

(Baby blue pajamas? That's nothing. Wait'll you see Leo in his new baby blue satin uniform!)

(Sen. Barkley's little stunt this week is just the sort of obscure political move that could easily change the course of history. Wonder if FDR still considers him vice-presidential material?)

(Well, it's the Wild West, ain't it?)

(Hey Bing, the Germans have this thing called a "magnetophon." Look into it.)

(I DON'T WANT MY BOYFRIEND FULL OF HOLES! Well, who does?)

(Ernie Bushmiller is married. I wonder how it's working out. And that Mr. Hix presents this obscure black-white assertion without obnoxious stereotyping, is, I guess, another sign that there's A New World Coming.)

(We really should start keeping a log of how often Mary actually appears in her own strip.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Wait, Sinatra manages a fighter? When did that happen? I need to start paying closer attention to the real news instead of this war junk.

And all the pearl-clutching doomsayers should note that none of them are hanging around Times Square.

I always enjoy when Mr. Hill revisits the days of his youth. His book "Among Us Mortals," published in 1917, is full of these early-1900s characters. An untapped resource for fashion historians.

Um, Jones is his name. He said out loud in front of you at least twice. NO HONEY FOR YOU.

They teach this technique in the fourth year of law school. And this whole Chester Gump story has been very anticlimactic. Hey Bim, send him back to the Aztec cave!

Shadow is still in school? COULDA FOOLED ME.

Coming soon, the spinoff strip "Life With The Tubbies."

See the passion? That's why you hire Laughton for this type of part!

Someday Judy will own this whole neighborhood.

"A very unusual girl." That about covers it.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

She should play Nat King Cole's hit record. Get your kicks at Cafe ''Route 66.''
Punjab really should learn some manners.

Terrence seems about to be deflowered any day now right.