Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1942-04-02
Dear Dorothy Thompson:


I wish you hadn't written that
recent ridicule of the pamphlets
dedicated to the women of the
United States and prepared by
the womens interests section of
the War Department Bureau Of
Public Relations"
You are mother and a sound
American AND therefore would
not thinkingly SOW distrust in the
minds Of mothers whose sons are
in service, yet you have done
nothing to establish confidence
in the dignity and integrity of
the War Department to which
the country looks with respect.
Have you ever been in war?
Not as a visitor whisked about in
a staff car with handsome Of
fcers, but the daily monotonous
drudgery of war without CLAM
our? In either case, whatever
stamina you found among the
men was based on the factual
contents of little blue, green, gray,
pink and beige pamphlets, not de-
signed to convince mammas that
their darlings find the Army a
recreation club but to tell them
that once Uncle Sam gets the bit
in his teeth he does things in
the grand manner.
Apparently you don't know that
every soldier who does k. D. duty
makes the old wisecrack that he'll
make some woman a great wife,
and one smiles as If it's an orig
inal utterance.
Army Habits Shape His Future.
AS a matter of record, Dorothy,
I wrote my mother from France
November S, 1918, They are men
now, however young. with disci-
plined minds. and the order Of
making his own bed plays an i'm
portant part Of the training of
each soldier. After he returns to
civil life, his Army habits will
shape his actions and much OF
his future progress" I hold this
to be true today.
About the food, Dorothy. You'd
be surprised at what old Uncle
Sam did for us blowing through
the submarine-infested Atlantic
in World War I. He didn't send
caviar but he was there with
what we actually needed. Holt
days with us meant turkey, dress
ing, gravy. potatoes, pie, nuts and
ice cream and, while you were
home eating funny bread, Uncle
Sam was feeding us the real
thing. Today the food is so per
cent better, prepared by real
cooks and not plumbers. CThis
was a feeble joke of mine)
You scott at the religion of the
Army, Dorothy. Like the beans
and goldfish, we had that, too.
Not stuffy at all, either.
The boys thought the chaplains
swell guys" because they talked
and didn't preach. A friendly
gable that gave comfort to a
mans mental ribs. True, the
nurses and doctors measured the
turning point of a wounded man
when he laid aside his Testament,
perhaps with the corner shot of,
and reached gingerly for a maya
zine with a pretty girl on the
cover, but the Chap" had met
his need at the time he needed
him.
A Soldiers Swagger.
And about the nauseating reci-
tai in the rose-colored pamphlet
on clothes, Dorothy. You'd be
amused at the vanity of soldier
when he throws of the good
warm blankets and reaches for
his outfit. He wants it snappy;
he swaggers around pugnaciously
inviting criticism. Doggone, he's
getting we'll and some day he's
going to walk down that gang
plank and make the people stare.
Uncle Sam has treated him so
well he's going back for more!
But if he has to slog in the mud
he's powerful glad it's in good
stout shoes and not synthetic
leather from Germany. And
when the boys today 60 to cold
climates they won't have to MUIR
der women and children for fur
coverings. I know, because Uncle
Sam fitted my nephew out SO
gorgeously I was green with envy.
A simply divine parka, my dear!
Yes, the rainbow series" makes
excellent reading, Dorothy. They
tell the women of America just
how well these boys are treated