Millions of U.S. citizens have heard of herat second hand. No one ever quite catches her name. She is a large-bosomed, pushing, middle-aged woman, a shade too richly dressed. She has popped up on a streetcar in Schenectady, N.Y., a cocktail bar in Detroit, a bus in Houston, a Manhattan shoestore. She always remarks, in a loud, smug voice, that the war is making her prosperous and she hopes it goes on & on. At this point, a patriotic woman bystander lets go with a well-aimed umbrella, handbag, or whatever is handy.
Fortnight ago, this far-famed World War II legend-with-a-happy-ending popped...
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