Hide Article Text (OCR)
★ rOB A STHONO AND UNITED AMEBICA *THEY NEED GROWN-UPS!a-making. Sunday after Sunday went by. the most peaceful the neighborhood had ever known; the busiest and happiest the boys had ever experienced.Eventually, just before final assembly, the gun had to be hoisted to the fort roof for a last checking.Listen, Daddy,” offered Bill. The Japs will spot us sure if we don't camouflage the fort.”He’s right.” the gang agreed vociferously. Let’s camouflage the fort.’’WILL CONNKLLThe great beauty of the gun was that it was a long time a-makingFathers and brothers are off to war. One man saw a need ... by Grace Thorne AllenThe boys on our block have opened our eyes, my husband’s and mine, to some potent truths these past few months We were slow to catch on, but it 9eems to me that what we’ve finally learned is important to other adult Americans in wartime.We learned from the youngsters that boys are missing their fathers, that they are hungry for the companionship and even the guidance of men. Not that these typical noisy, argumentative, fighting eight- and ten-year-olds would put this truth in words. The proof lies in their actions.We have two boys of our own and livein an ordinary middle-class neighborhood of houses, bungalow courts and apartments. Our neighbors all have nice gardens, but we have the only real back yard. Naturally, the boys took it over. Just as naturally, «nce I have my work to do singlehanded these days, the boys got to be too much for me. As we finished breakfast I’d hear the ack-ack and the dive bombers. Then I’d hear shriller, angrier notes in their war cries. The mimic commando raids had gone realistic, the fightwas on, the casualties actual. After giving first aid. I’d send them home with instructions not to come back until the next day.Then one Sunday my husband stepped out for a minute to inspect a fort our 9even-year-oki had built.“That’s a good job, Bill.” he said. “But .we might take off this plank and saw the end straight 90 9ome fellow doesn't get hooked on the point, don’t you think?” “Yeah, we sure oughta,” chimed in Kenny, an apartment neighbor. 10 years old.He dropped expertly over the back fence, picked up a hammer and knocked off the plank. Like a gentleman, he let Bill’s father use the saw. While they did the job, the rest of the gang showed up, assembled by telepathy.Red-headed Donald addressed my husband belligerently: “Look, we need an antiaircraft you promised“Yeah,” chorused the gang. “When are we going to get started?”They started to work that morning with old gear from the garage. Finished, the gun was a wonderful contraption, but its great beauty was that it was a long timeSo they did, beginning early the next Sunday. The dad of the block liad sent an S O S to a friend. While one of the men stirred leftover bits of paint into nauseous green and brown mixtures, the other drew heavy curving lines on the walls and roof of the fort. He marked the spaces with “b” for brown, c” for green. And the boys laid on the paint. They worked until dark. There wasn’t a fight all day.Back of us lives a semi-retired carpenter who has no children. He heard Bobby say, “The guys that defend the fort have all the gun power. The rest of us ought to have submachine guns — like the swell one I saw on a magazine cover!”The carpenter took those boys into his cherished workshop. With a small power-saw he cut out wooden submachine guns, just like the one on the magazine cover. The boys watched, fascinated. They sanded the guns for hours; when the carpenter was satisfied with their work he let them shellac the guns.One afternoon last fall when all the children were in school, Kenny knocked at the back door. Kenny’s father is in the service, his mother works. Announcing tiiat he was recovering from measles, he asked politely if he might go into the dark room where my husband was developing some prints. He sat there for an hour.enny taking up photography? I asked later.“No, he likes to watch once in a while, but he doesn’t care about photography. I guess he just wanted to be around.Of course he did; they all do. Why wouldn’t they, with their fathers and older brothers ir» the service or workingweird wartime hours? Certainly they flock around a man who will let them paint; certainly they swarm over the carpenter who hands them a piece of wood and some sandpaper. But now those jobs are done and still the boys come — to be around, to talk, to ask questions, to make plans.In America there are thousands of men who have a genuine liking for boys. With but a little time — not all day Sunday, not every Sunday — with a few minutes now and then, they could give the boys a lift over a rough part of the wartime road. By giving them a chance to “belong.” to “be around.” I think fathers in the service would get a lift over their road, knowing their boys had a good friend at home.Camouflaging the fort kept the boys busy and happyand Bill saysHLIFTER-UPPEH. We’ve just heard how a clever Red Cross worker, on duty with the Army at Miami Beach, solved the major morale problem of an Alabama farm boy. The soldier had never been away from home before. He had received no letters. He couldn’t read, anyhow. For him. his family no longer existed As a result, he was no good either to the Army or to himself.The Red Cross girl offered to help by writing a letter for the boy. Won’t do no good,” the G.I. said sadly. Theycouldn’t read what you said. The morale-builder thought for a minute, said: Come on, dictate your letter. I’ve got an idea.”When she addressed the envelope, she printed in big letters: Mailman: Please open and read to the addressee. An answer written by the postman came back in a few days. Now the boy and his family conduct a regular correspondence — by proxy — and the Army has a happy soldier.SECOND GUESS. Five years ago -January 30. 1939 — a fellow by the name of Hitler said: The German nation has no feeling of hatred towards England, America or France. All it wants is peace and quiet.”He picked a funny way of getting it.BLANK. We get a report from London that a recent track meet for troops there was delayed because the Army couldn’t find a pistol to sound the starting signals.This Week MACAZIN E -ARMY MIRACLES . . . FOR YOUI...........by Mm he Gmnmai Edmond B. GraporyHIS HANDS WERE CLEAN!.................by Frmmk Kin#THANKS, SERGEANT!......................by Ocforvi Ray CobanWAR WIFE?...............................by Emily PmttWALLVS WAGON........................by Wally forenTICKET IN MOSCOW.......................by Paul W. Kmarnmy••QUIZ ’EM M..............................by Tom Honey“MIKE....................................by Jmrry MasonWHISTLING AT DEATH....................by Mo/or Ptter W. Ro/aiarCarar by NtnwliowlNames and descriptions of all character a in fiction stories and semi-fiction articles in this miprini are wholly imaginary. Any name which happens to be the same am that of any parson, living or dead, U entirely coincidental.Cajgrijtt, 1944. Uafttad Nawpap— Ha tart a a CmuntiesTW—1-21-44Page Two
Newspaper Details
Washington Evening Star
Washington, Washington-DC, US
Sun, Jan 23, 1944
Page 53
Full Page
Clipped by
Jeannine C.
USA 09 May 2022
Other Publications Near Washington, Washington-DC
Washington American Eagle
Washington National Intelligencer
Washington Globe
District of Columbia Evening Star
Washington Garfield Memorial
