try to blacken the administration and whitewash the natives. Self-determination is all very well. The difficulty is that these natives don't understand Patriotism. Give 'em an inch and they want to run their own countries. After all, we're fighting this war to protect the rights of small peoples, so there must be no monkeying with the liberty of the natives to do as they are dashed well told."

HAVING made such a thundering mess of the war, naturally he is now devoting his attentions to the home front: "I am a stanch upholder of the sacred freedom of the press, but we can't let the wrong kind of people say or write what they like, especially with education rampant among the lower classes. Economics and all that. It creates unrest."

"Take slumps, for instance. We all know how slumps arise—lack of confidence. The way to deal with slumps is to be confident that there'll be a restoration of confidence. But how could confidence be restored when people could read about the slump? Dash it, you can't have it both ways. What the lower classes never understood is that unrest is always created by the dashed Reds only for the purpose of preventing the upper classes from being fair of their own accord."

"Now we have these dashed Planners running about planning everything. Absolute anarchy. Fellows wanting to improve the British way of life. Dashed unpatriotic. These planners say they're out to avoid chaos. Say what you like about chaos, it

provides freedom for Enterprise and Initiative. And what's going to be needed more after the war than Enterprise and Initiative?

"Then there's the Bishops. Public control of credit, land and water! Dash it, you can't mix religion with business. It's unethical. What this country needs is a religious revival against the teachings of the Archbishop of Canterbury. And now this fellow Beveridge comes along, wanting to undermine the stability of the country with security. Everybody knows that insurance discourages thrift even more than saving. As for Beveridge's free medical services proposal, all this compulsory public health will rot the stamina of the nation."

ECONOMICS is the Colonel's pet inspiration nowadays.

"Burdened with a colossal national debt, with our invisible exports vanished, our overseas investments sunk, all our markets gone, trading conditions after the war are going to be practically impossible. This is no time for planning. We must stand by the traditions and practices that saw us safely up to the slump. No government interference. We must revive exports by prohibiting imports, thereby inducing a spirit of healthy competition, bringing stability to industry and recovering British supremacy in world trade. We could whoop up home markets, too, if costs were cheapened by reducing wages, thus increasing the purchasing power of the people and creating a domestic demand."

"True, post-war conditions may involve some reorganization for

efficiency. But the best people to handle all that are the big industrialists. It stands to reason that private people know more about what is good for the country than the M. P.'s, because private people are inspired by the Profit Motive, which is the spirit of service."

"A lot of bosh is talked by the dashed Reds about the Profit Motive, but you have got to have people making profits or you cannot have business development (except in Russia, where they don't understand economics). The great danger of concentrating industrial power under public control is that any adventurer may get the majority of votes, then command the lot. Too dangerous. Much safer to hand over the whole thing to private monopolies that are not dependent on votes and cannot be interfered with."

Colonel Blimp made a "powerful" speech last week—I forget whether it was in the House of Commons or the American Congress.

"It appears certain now," he said, "that victory will be won as soon as we have defeated the enemy. But I'll never sheathe the sword until freedom is restored and all those who disagree with me are locked up. Let us put our backs to the wall with stiff upper lips and all pull together against collectivism, and the future will be before us."

10

THE NEW YORK TIMES MAGAZINE, MARCH 7, 1943.

# The Service Man's New York

By Sergeant Lloyd Shearer

P
AT CORCORAN, a bulbous-
nosed, Runyonesque char-
acter who has been con-
ducting sight-seeing tours around
New York City for the past
twenty years, is amazed by the
great anomaly.

"As a stoodint of human na-
tchure," he says, "the problem
has got me raffled."

For Mr. Corcoran the problem
centers about his observation
that civilians who once visited the
City of New York and said "I
wouldn't live here if they gave
me the place" now return as
soldiers and declare it the most
friendly, hospitable city in the
entire country.

"For a while," explains Mr.
Corcoran, "I figger the Chamber
of Commerce has got stooges
planted in Army camps peddling
trips to New York, but the boys
tell me this ain't so. They just
like the burg."

Mr. Corcoran is not mistaken. With the possible exception of Chicago, another metropolis frequently condemned by its pre-war guests, New York has become the Mecca for the man in uniform. Thousands of soldiers stream into the La Guardia homegrounds each day—expectant, anxious, determined to cram a lifetime of fun into a few days; and few leave disappointed, for nowhere in this country today can

they get so much for so little.

Other service men, equally ve-
hement in their praise of New
York's handouts — free theatre
tickets, meals, dances, athletic
events, etc.—remark how pleas-
antly surprised they are to find.
contrary to tradition and advance
notices, that New Yorkers are
cordial and polite.

A SAILOR from Tuscaloosa,
Ala., expressed it uniquely: "Peo-
ple up here may not speak right
good English, but they sure got
right good hearts." That state-
ment is particularly applicable to
the liquor situation. Very rarely
does a man in uniform pay for his

own drinks in New York. Some
civilians will ordinarily offer to
"set 'em up. It's on me."

United Nations fighting men,
who constitute approximately 25
per cent of the military visitors

in New York, are even more en-
thusiastic over the native friend-
liness than our own men. A large
portion of them can be found
daily at 99 Park Avenue getting
their share of the Defense Recre-
ation Committee's gratuitous of-
ferings.

"New Yorkers," said one Brit-
ish seaman here for the first
time, "are not at all what I
thought. I dare say I'll have to
go to Chicago for the shooting."
Hollywood, of course, has condi-
tioned the far-fetched expecta-
tions of foreigners guesting in
metropolitan New York; and a
few of the soldiers from Canada,
Australia and Great Britain have
been slightly disappointed to find
the widely heralded Broadway
lights blackened out. They are
all amazed by the beauty and
language of New York girls.
They find both of these difficult
to understand.

Naturally enough, most ser-
vice men come to New York ex-
pecting to find a little feminine
companionship. In their off-duty
time soldiers and sailors talk
most about women, beer and wo-
men, in that order, and the girls
are said to be more plentiful in
New York than any other city.
This variety of available woman-
hood is what the man in uniform
dreams about. The New York
actuality or realization of it usu-
ally satisfies him.

MANY a service man upon
arriving, feels New York is too
large, too teeming, too important
to notice him. The old feeling of
loneliness returns again as he
heads up Broadway. A dot, a
molecule, a number, a pinpoint
on the face of the La Guardia
domain. But a policeman stops
him and sends him over to any
one of a half dozen USO's. Pleas-
antly and quickly the soldier
realizes that New York is bend-
ing over backward to make him
feel at home. It's little

From a
perfect marriage
came this heavenly supper cake

"It's the quickest, easiest supper cake recipe I ever used!"

And here's why - it calls for no baking powder or salt. Flour, baking powder and salt are "married" in Presto.

SUNDAY NIGHT SUPPER CAKE

(For sugarless version, note instructions marked by stars)

Sift, measure 1¼ c. PRESTO Cake Flour.

Set one side.

Cream ¼ c. butter OR vitaminized margarine

With ½ c. sugar

And **1 tsp. vanilla.

Add 1 egg. Beat light and fluffy.

Measure .***½ c. milk. Add alternately
to the creamed mixture with about ½ c.
PRESTO at a time. Stir smooth after each addi-
tion. Pour into well-greased shallow pan.
Bake. Remove from oven. Spread with 2 tbsp.
melted butter OR vitaminized margarine.
Sprinkle with ⅓ c. brown sugar and 1 tsp. cin-
namon. Also, if desired, ¼ c. chopped nuts.
Return to oven for 5 minutes. Serve hot.

* Replace sugar with ¼ c. each honey and corn syrup.

**Replace with 1 tsp. grated orange OR lemon rind when syrups are used.

***Reduce milk to 6 tbsp. when syrups are used.

(Continued from Page 18)

having stripped us bare, to herd us in chain gangs in the service of a new order which gives us nothing beyond a sternly rationed subsistence. Thus we all have a common purpose. That purpose is to crush the Axis and remove the peril which is common to all of us.

And when an evangelist so impassioned, so sincere, and so eloquent as Miss Buck writes an article which seeks to turn this war for all of us into a crusade for something else—however desirable—she is leading many people, idealists as sincere as herself, into a state of confusion and distrust. What's the use? All we are doing, and giving, and suffering to win this war if (as Miss Buck insists) the direction we have taken puts us on the road highway to losing it?

THERE'S no denying that we have made miscalculations and mistakes. There is no one of our leaders who has not stumbled and blundered. They—and we—have been amateurs meeting professionals in this game of conquest by the merciless use of all the engines of destruction which science has bestowed upon our generation of mankind. It wasn't the game of our choice. But we are in it. And, like our enemies, who did choose it, we must con-

long before any of the rest of us were fighting for anything. China is still fighting to be free from the invading Japanese.

As it happens, the immediate and indispensable needs of the United Nations in this crisis of history are material needs. As it happens also only the British and ourselves have anything to spare to meet the material needs of the others—the food and the machines of war, without which none of us can win. Inevitably, since we haven't enough to give all our allies all they need, we are frequently reproached because one of those allies does not get from us what he needs sorely.

Responsibility for what we shall, or shall not, send is heavy. But, clearly, it is a responsibility no one of the rival claimants can be permitted to assume. The responsibility is ours—Britain's and America's. Equally ours is the blame if things go wrong.

This is a war for home and fireside—or whatever is the equivalent in lands that do not have firesides. That in the ultimate is what we are all fighting for—to keep safe or to win back again. And that goes for Chinese, Russians, Hollanders, Norwegians, Czechs, Poles, Greeks, Filipinos, Britons from Britain

Britain's empire, no less than for the inhabitants of this Republic. Whatever means to any one of them what fireside means to us is their own to guard and cherish in the way that is their own. It is not up to us to teach Great-Grandmother China how to suck eggs—or by the same token, how to keep her home fires burning. Neither is it our business to convert rejuvenated Russia, enamored of a new way, to the way that custom has made a beaten and a pleasant path to us. For our part, we will probably refuse to be converted to the Chinese or the Russian way.

Say it is not a crusade, this war. Say it is a crime, if you will. It is no crime of our making, and we are fighting now to end the reign of terror of the criminals who did make it. Crusades have been lost as well as wars which are not crusades. And turning this war of survival into a crusade which does not represent in its objective the common cause, as it plainly exists, for all the United Nations, may lose for them the sense that they do have a common cause, sap the common will to win, and thus lose both the war and the crusade.

## Atlantic--Wild, Cold, Ruthless

(Continued from Page 12)

another man takes his place. If I am killed, another officer takes mine. There must be no failings, no errors, no ... It is a life raft, an empty one, a grim relic of war.

All hands are truly disap-

and we await the dawn. It is only a matter of another ten minutes until I take our morning sights and then:

> "Capella. Stand by. Mark — Twenty-two, fifteen."

> "Denebola. Stand by. Mark — Twenty-two, fifteen."