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Personally, I think we shall win this war but only after tens of thousands of people have been needlessly killed, but let me offer this warning: If this generation of soldiers returns home to a collapsed and chaotic economic system due to inflation or any other cause that might easily have been prevented had the people but realized the dangers of their shortsightedness, we shall not stand docilely on street corners selling apples; we shall not ashamedly wait in line to receive bread. The American soldier is not a child who can easily be fooled, Dad; he is too well informed.
Is it asking too much of civilians to give up a little of their comfort so that some one else might win security for them? The President speaks of more & more sacrifices. Sacrifices—hell! Is it a sacrifice to defend one's self against impending disaster? What a ludicrous and tragic situation that soldiers must beg, actually beg, for arms to defend people who, by their very actions, don't seem to give a damn. The fine American institution of the Sunday motor trip is far more important than a boatload of supplies to the tankmen and aviators in Egypt. Sacrifices? Look to the Chinese people and learn what the word truly means.
To you, Dad, I would give a firm handshake, and to Mother, a tender kiss, for I am very proud of you both. America is not the land of your birth but, in your wisdom and devotion to this country you love, you have become finer, more worthy citizens than a good majority of people who can trace their citizenship back several generations. Although Christianity is not your avowed faith, in your daily lives you prove you are better Christians than many of those fine people who every Sunday attend that beautiful church on the corner several blocks away.
Yes, Dad, tell them that my mind is sick and bitter. Tell them that I want to believe in my country but find it increasingly difficult to believe in its people. But who will listen? Who will want to listen to a solitary soldier crying out for justice? Who is interested in mere words when big money can be made—and the boys are dying in the Pacific?
LEE
(Det. 120th Signal Radio Intelligence) A.P.O. 869 New York City
Ex-Bubbleblower
Sirs:
In speaking of Millais in your Sept. 21 issue you point out:
"Bubbles became one of the most famous of British paintings; Pears' became one of the world's biggest soap firms."
You neglect to point out an interesting sidelight: what became of Bubbles as opposed to Bubbles. If I am not mistaken, Bubbles also became famous and is today Admiral [Sir William Milburne] James, Royal Navy, Commander in Chief, Portsmouth. In any case I know that the admiral is known to most of the men in "Pompey" Barracks as "Bubbles."
WALLACE J. BORKER
Ensign U.S.N.R. (formerly attached to Royal Naval Barracks,
Portsmouth, Hants)
Tacoma, Wash.
¶Ensign Borker is correct. Admiral James at three (in 1885) was a winning curlyhead whose passion was soap bubbles. His grandfather, the great Pre-Raphaelite Painter John Everett Millais, one day bribed little Willie to pose for him in exchange for hearing a fairy tale. An excellent likeness, the painting was finished in several weeks —minus soap bubbles. Those were painted from less evanescent crystal spheres.—ED.
Due Credit
Sirs: