MORALE: Memories of Brooklyn

For men in the Mediterranean theater, where fighting has been bitter and reflection sharp, the War Department lately conducted an essay contest on “Why I Fight.” Last week twelve Army judges, after pondering 300 entries, picked the winners. All three were from New York City—two from Brooklyn alone. First prize went to Corp. Jack J. Zurofsky, 28, of Brooklyn, now recovering from combat wounds. Excerpt:

“I fight because of my memories—the laughter and play of my childhood, the ball games I was in, the better ones I watched, my mother telling me why my father and she came to America, my high-school graduation, the first time I saw a cow, the first year we could afford a vacation, the crib at Camp Surprise Lake after the crowded polluted Coney Island waters, hikes in the fall, weenie and marshmallow roasts, the first time I voted, my first date and the slap in the face I got instead of the kiss I attempted, the El going down, streets being widened to let the sun in, new tenements replacing the old slums, the crowd applauding the time I came through with the hit that won us the Borough championship—the memories, which, if people like me do not fight, our children will never have.”