Pale, intent men lay on white cots in the San Diego Naval Hospital last week listening with radio headsets to the news from the Pacific. They were casualties of Guadalcanal, Tarawa, Saipan and Palau, and they understood the cost of victory. They were armless, legless, diseased, blind. They knew that more would join them.
The hospital itself was a strange asylum. In days of peace it had been San Diego's lush Balboa Park, scene of the 1935 California Exposition, resplendent with gardens, art galleries, museums. Of art treasures and exhibits nothing now remained except...
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