Monday, January 22, 1945

The Charlotte News

Monday, January 22, 1945

FOUR EDITORIALS

Site Ed. Note: The front page reports that Allied aircraft destroyed a large portion of two German columns consisting of a combined total of 3,000 vehicles, the equipment of an entire army, interdicting the attempted German evacuation from the Ardennes through the Siegfried Line to the Rhine. The concentration of vehicles was so thick that the pilots of the 19th Tactical Air Force stated that they could not miss. It was a record haul for one day for the 19th, eclipsing its previous record of destruction of 833 vehicles. The result served virtually to immobilize one of Field Marshal Gerd Von Rundstedt's two mobile armies on the Western Front.

Two road jams, each containing about 1,500 vehicles, became the Allied targets, one having been in the Prum area, east of St. Vith behind the Siegfried Line, and the other, eight miles north of Diekirch along a secondary artery. A smaller column southwest of Euskirchen was also attacked.

The Third Army fought into the streets of Wiltz, the German southern defense anchor in Luxembourg.

Two hundred American heavy bombers, escorted by a hundred fighters, struck a synthetic oil refinery at Sterkrade in the Ruhr. The RAF the night before struck Kassel, 75 miles south of Hannover.

On Sunday, 900 American heavy bombers, accompanied by 500 fighters, in temperatures as low as 67 below zero, hit rail targets in Southwest Germany, at Mannheim, Aschaffenburg, and Heilbronn, as Italian-based bombers of the Fifteenth Air Force struck targets in Austria as far north as Vienna. For the first time in five days, the Ninth Air Force hit targets along the Western Front, previously grounded by inclement weather.

The Russians had captured Gneizno, 165 miles east of Berlin, 28 miles northeast of Poznan in Western Poland. Also captured, in East Prussia, was Insterburg, as the Second and Third White Russian Armies moved pincer-like toward one another to cut East Prussia in two, the armies now situated 80 miles apart. The Second White Russian Army was eleven miles southeast of Bydgoszcz, after overrunning Labiszyn, 183 miles from Berlin. Thirty-two miles from Bydgoszcz, proceeding at a pace of thirteen miles per day, the Army had captured also the towns of Inowroclaw, Alesandrow, and Argenaualso. The Army had captured, later in the day, Allenstein, 30 miles inside the southern border of East Prussia.

German radio crackled with despairing reports that Berlin was now threatened, within six hours fast rail time from the approaching Russian armies in Silesia, 395 miles away. It warned Germans that if Poznan were captured, the threat to Berlin would become critical. The broadcast called for all Germans to take up arms in defense of the Reich.

--Germans, hear me! Die Roossians are less than two hundred miles from die heart of die Faderland. You know what happens if die Roossians get here first before drunk Americans and shopkeeper Britons. They will take your daughters and make off with them to die woods. Grab your rifles issued to Volksturm, brave volks all. Bend down, crouch, fire. Die Big Red Dog is digging in your backyard. Beware, Germans.

On Luzon in the Philippines, the Sixth Army, at noon on Sunday, captured Tarlac, 65 air miles from Manila, just 22 miles from Clark Airfield, following evacuation by the Japanese, leaving the once bustling city a smoldering ruin after dousing virtually every building with gasoline. The capture, including two airfields, marked the halfway point between the January 9 landing at Lingayen Gulf and Manila.

On Friday, American carrier-based planes of the Third Fleet had shot down sixteen Japanese planes out of Formosa, seeking to strike at Luzon.

Tokyo radio claimed that for two straight days, American aircraft had pounded Okinawa in the Ryukyus.

General Curtis LeMay was being transferred from his position as head of the Twentieth Bomber Command out of China to head the 21st Bomber Command operating from Saipan, headquartered at Guam, replacing General Haywood Hansell.

In conjunction with the move to end draft deferments for younger farm workers, the President called on the American people to aid in sharing and conserving, as well as producing, food. The call included the plea for continuation of victory gardens, for raising of a family's own produce, the campaign for which had been initiated right after Pearl Harbor.

The House Military Committee wrote an amendment into the new manpower legislation, ending the draft deferment for farm workers and making 4-F classified men subject to the draft for work in war industries, whereby anyone so drafted would not be required to join a union as a condition of employment. The committee favored the amendment by a vote of 14 to 10, the opponents stressing that such an amendment could violate union closed-shop contract provisions. The committee also refused to recognize agriculture as a critical war industry, the proponents of that amendment having intended to preserve the agricultural deferment.

The House committee on post-war policy was considering a plan, corollary to its proposal for compulsory military training after the war, to have scientists, ensuing the war, regularly engage in development of new secret weaponry.

The move signaled the first breaths of what colloquially would come to be called the arms race, of which the prime benchmark for increscent progress would be mutually assured destruction, the lead in multiple overkill or celerity and accuracy of delivery of warheads becoming a function of which alternating ping or pong was the more au courant of the moment as between the two Super Powers, the United States and the Soviet Union.

A light earthquake struck somewhere north of Cuba at shortly before 4:00 a.m., as recorded by the Fordham University seismograph in New York.

John Lardner continues his tales of Honolulu, this time focusing on the Calaveras County frog-jumping contest in California, that which had not, despite the distraction of the war, escaped the notice of frog breeder and word painter, Riley Allen of Hawaii. He had just entered his champion jumping frog in the contest—made famous worldwide in the nineteenth century by Mark Twain.

Mr. Lardner was not at liberty to reveal the secret breeding formula of Mr. Allen, a formula which had produced a new breed of jumper, even if known in most of Hawaii for years. He had crossed Hawaii's strongest bullfrogs with a certain piscatorial species which could leap 700 feet, with the wind.

Mr. Allen had not yet received a reply on his entry, but he was going to be insistent on his rights to enter an Hawaiian frog. And he would send along an agent with the frog who would be equipped to ward off buckshot, apologizing though he did for any undue cynicism at California jumping conditions.

When you consider it all for a moment, the Calaveras County frog-jumping contest is nigh on a perfect analogy for the world's future arms race.

Anyway, as we have once commented, the doggone things did not like us eating their legs, spit right at us.

And that was nearly twenty years after October, 1962.

Maybe that was escargot. It's all the same.

That's right, they were the ones we couldn't pith in freshman zoology for the life of us, the frogs that is. They squealed when our lab partner did it. It isn't pretty. How would you like your spinal cord pithed?

On the editorial page, "The Southern Grip" reminds that, while within the past year it might have seemed to the casual political observer that the South had lost some of its clout in national politics, still it had a substantial hold on Congressional committees, the heart of Congressional power.

The Senate had 33 standing committees, 25 of which were major. Of those, Southerners chaired twelve, Westerners, seven, Easterners, six, and Midwesterners, none.

The House had 47 standing committees, 30 of which were classified as major, seventeen being chaired by Southerners. The East had six chairmanships, the West, five, the Midwest, two.

The reason for the imbalance was that Southerners continued to elect the same Senators and Representatives repeatedly, providing them seniority, the controversial strict rule of which governed chairmanships of committees.

Such rules had led to the considerable anomaly, much to the disgust of The News and other North Carolina newspapers, as well as national commentators and columnists, that the powerful Senate Military Affairs Committee had been, from 1941 to 1945, chaired by isolationist, anti-British, anti-Russian, nearly, if not fully, pro-Nazi, Senator Robert Rice Reynolds of North Carolina, as of the beginning of January and the new session of Congress, of course, retired from the Senate.

In any event, the fact that the South still remained behind the nation as a region in so many vital areas, education, commerce, manufacturing, and income, leads the column to question whether this power, enjoyed for so long, had been frittered away by the South, with its eyes too much on pork-barreling and not enough on ameliorating its shortcomings.

It might have gone one step further and gotten down to brass tacks: If these Southerners in power had worried not so much about preserving the status quo in terms of race relations and other xenophobic notions, and more on finding creative methods by which to remedy the problems of the people they were elected to serve, and remedying the problems of all of those people, then, handy-dandy, the problems, economically and educationally, would have, decades earlier, found their remedies, relative to the rest of the nation, even if the South had a long trail of rebuilding to accomplish after the torment to the land, both physically and mentally, occasioned by the Civil War. Unfortunately, the fire breathers could not stop fighting it, even a hundred years and more afterward.

"The High Sheriff" comments that, while the State Constitution required each county to have a sheriff, the duties of the office were not specified. In the less populous counties, the sheriff acted as chief law enforcement officer. He was generally charged with serving process in civil matters. He acted as bailiff to the courts, and he also collected taxes.

Progress and growth of government in the larger counties had relieved the sheriff of many of these duties. Police departments conducted law enforcement in the cities; tax collection was undertaken by a special department. Only the role of service of process and duties as bailiffs were universally retained in the counties.

Collectively, the sheriffs of the one hundred North Carolina counties, however, remained a potent political force, as proved recently by their concerted opposition to defeat the State Police Department—which would eventually become the State Bureau of Investigation—as proposed by newly installed Governor Gregg Cherry.

"Dimes Aren't Enough" suggests that, while the title "March of Dimes" remained catchy for the battle against polio, dimes were not sufficient alone to mount the considerable effort necessary to eradicate the crippling disease. It urges the sending of more than just dimes to the fight.

Of course, in the mid-fifties, the vaccine of Jonas Salk would largely eliminate the presence of polio from the United States and begin the process worldwide. A major contributor in that fight was the March of Dimes, given its great boost in national recognition by President Roosevelt—the reason that his likeness is to this day borne on the dime.

"Distinguished Service" compliments the Federal Council of Churches for providing the Edward L. Benays Award for outstanding achievement in black-white relations to Howard Odum, sociology professor at the University of North Carolina. Dr. Odum had been selected out of 55 nominees for the award.

The piece comments that he had indeed been a leader in progressive race relations, atypical for the South, though Dr. Odum was born and bred within the region.

His most important work to date had been Southern Regions, published in 1936. Race and Rumors of Race was published in 1943.

His work, the editorial stresses, had not been popular with Southerners at large, any more than his books had been best-sellers, but he had always been a leader in Southern thought and, since coming to the University a quarter century earlier in 1919, had been a leader in North Carolina's academic circles.

Dr. Odum had been one of the key mentors early on, in 1929 and 1930, to W. J. Cash as he began the writing of what became The Mind of the South. Cash exchanged numerous letters with the professor, who obligingly gave his insight to aid the initial shape and scope of the work, and greeted its eventual publication in 1941 with high praise.

At the bottom of the column, titled "Dissenting Opinions", appears first a short essay on conversation by 17th century French essayist Jean De La Bruyere, urging that the puerile and insipid which daily plague conversation (not to mention most of the news these days on tv) must be tolerated as a necessary evil, lest the result be primarily self-induced silence.

We much prefer the latter, to tell you the truth, always have, especially vis à vis the tv.

Say no more.

Next is a brief by Euripides, questioning the providence which too often assigns the diminishing task to a parent of having to bury his or her own offspring, though having been nobly inclined to duty and loyalty. "...I ask, why do the gods heap on mortals this grief in addition, the most bitter of all, to drop the tears on the lost son's untimely bier?"

Drew Pearson discusses a grim pre-inauguration meeting between the President, Congressional leaders, and military chieftains, Admiral Ernest King of the Navy and General George C. Marshall of the Army, to iron out the manpower problems of the country.

The Army and Navy needed 900,000 men during the ensuing six months, the goal to be filled by 18-year olds if no other group was made available, as through ending deferments for farm laborers and enabling the shift of younger war-essential workers into the military, replaced by older workers. Another 700,000 men were needed to supplement war production.

The Congressional representatives reported that opposition had grown among labor and farm groups to a national service act, the President favoring one for all age groups 18 to 60, the Congressional leaders wanting to stress, instead, only 4-F's between 18 and 45. The bill, reported the Congressional leaders to the President, was due for some tough sledding in both chambers of the Congress.

Mr. Pearson next makes comment on the new Vice-President, Harry Truman, the first such press comment since his nomination at the convention in late July. He tells of Mr. Truman's common-man past, starting on the farm, thence to employment in a drugstore, then a haberdashery—which failed—then into the Army where he became a captain in World War I, then a local judge under the Kansas City machine of Boss Pendergast, then to the Senate for ten years, much of which time he had spent in obscurity, until the Truman Committee came about to investigate government inefficiency and corruption, and now the Vice-Presidency, all in a miraculous whirl. Even Harry Truman—who had nonchalantly sat eating a hot dog at the convention at the point his name was called to come to the podium to accept the nomination, at first more concerned with finishing his hot dog than realization that it was he being called forth—could not believe his meteoric rise.

Mr. Pearson compares the Missourian to Calvin Coolidge, both having originated in the backwoods, neither given to making speeches, both thrifty, both enjoying political luck. "Silent Cal" had first come to public notice during the Boston police strike when he was Governor of Massachusetts, and he then had come to mind when the Republican bosses gathered to nominate a compromise vice-presidential candidate to run with Warren Harding. Then, of course, on August 2, 1923, President Harding suddenly died while on a trip to San Francisco, thrusting Vice-President Coolidge into the Presidency. He was then elected on his own merit in 1924.

Leaving aside the latter pair of facts, Mr. Pearson indicates that Harry Truman had risen much the same way, coming to national attention with the Senate investigating committee and then becoming a compromise vice-presidential candidate to replace Vice-President Henry Wallace.

"That is the man who today assumes the life insurance duties of Vice-President of the United States. He will be worth watching."

Indeed, he would be, for the ensuing eight years. The comparison drawn by Mr. Pearson, despite his recent denials in his column of the rumors abounding that President Roosevelt's health appeared anything but good in person, would prove itself uncannily accurate, even if no one today, knowing the historical reputation of Harry Truman as a feistily combatant President who stood his ground against any of the high and mighty who were self-anointed Royalists, such as General MacArthur, would dare compare Truman as President to Calvin Coolidge, the latter most noted for taking long daily naps during his tenure as President. The men were, if anything, historical contrasts in personality, even if coming to the presidency along the same route, marked finally by tragic loss of the nation of its leader—though Warren Harding, in the midst of the Teapot Dome scandal in 1923, was certainly far less beloved and missed than would be the nearly universally lamented and trumpeted Franklin Roosevelt, come April 12, 1945.

Samuel Grafton discusses the prospect of the national service act, proposed by the President, not being passed by the Congress, and its potential resulting impact on presidential power. Unlike the parliamentary system where such a denial of a program would require the parliamentary majority to form a new government and prove that the denial was born of sagacity, not pugnacity toward the goals of the administration, the Congress could deny the President his program and then look askance at whatever occurred in its aftermath, even blaming the President for the resultant gaps in production.

The alternatives being proposed, that of volunteerism, contends Mr. Grafton, really had nothing behind them but ephemera. The only way to insure adequate war production was to have a draft of labor to fill necessary jobs. It was not a matter of coercing labor, but an exercise of legitimate police power under the Commerce Clause to insure labor adequate to the national emergency.

The other alternative was "work or fight", meaning that those who did not work in war-essential jobs would be drafted into military service. While preserving an illusory form of choice, the only real choice was to work, because only 4-F men were in issue in the first place, those unfit to fight. So, those drafted would either be sent to war-essential jobs, refusing which, would be sent to jail.

Thus, there really was no proper alternative to the national service act. The only reason anyone would refuse to work was out of a lack of confidence in the Government. Management disfavored any precedent of government control over the workplace.

Hal Boyle, with the First Army in Belgium, reports of one soldier's opinion that, while the Germans were efficient, they carried the concept too far. He gave as example a German machinegunner who methodically loosened the dirt around the soldier's foxhole, then fired a rifle grenade into the loose dirt, causing it to cover him up. He did not appreciate it.

A sergeant and a private, quartered in a Belgian home, could not sleep for the wailing of a baby, even though they had no problem snoozing through artillery fire.

A German prisoner had figured out how mortarmen kept up the round-the-clock fire on German lines. They read books and every time they completed a chapter, they dropped in a mortar shell and fired it. The artillery, he theorized, played poker and every time someone lost, they were required to pull the lanyard of the gun.

A staff sergeant was busy digging a foxhole, heard others doing likewise on the other side of a hedge, began conversing with them on their progress. When his platoon sergeant asked him to whom he was talking, he replied that there was another company on their flank preparing their foxholes. When informed by the platoon sergeant that the company had not yet arrived in position, they both went to the other side of the hedge to find, and capture, three Germans digging their foxholes.

Two doughboys had delivered a seven-pound baby boy in aid of a doctor they had summoned when they discovered an expectant mother in a farmhouse within the battle front, down on the Bulge line. They both, red-faced, preferred life in their foxholes to delivering babies.

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