T/4 Marion Hargrove, 23, the pride of Charlotte, N.C., has arrived, period.
The tall, skinny Southerner is the author of See Here, Pvt. Hargrove, a series of G.I. vignettes that has already sold 2,500,000 copies and is undoubtedly the classic piece of soldier humor to be produced so far in this war.
of India on page below
Strangely, Hargrove talks as if he was born and raised in Boston, a city he has probably never seen. When asked about it he said:
"I think my mother must have been scared by a Limey movie."
The humorist's Army career began July 17, 1941, a day, he says, that will live in infamy. He put in 11 months at Fort Bragg sweating out all forms of G.I. torture and writing about them in little pieces that appeared in the Charlotte News. Meyer Berger, of the New York Times, spotted the stuff and suggested that there was book material there.
The articles were sent to Berger's agent, who brooded over them for a couple of weeks and returned them sans comment. Several months later, Maxwell Anderson spotted the manuscript, bounced same to a publisher and Berger's agent is now applying for room and board at some quiet lunatic asylum.
A large part of Hargrove's book is devoted to his failure to attain promotions. He was not bothered by T/O difficulties. Having gone to work for Yank magazine, he has advanced to his present rather exalted station of T/4.
The Roundup loves him because he saluted us exactly 14 times in one day - the first time that has ever happened in India. You should see that salute, gents. All he lacks is the bandana and an Eagle Scout badge.
Oh, yes, he's going to write humor about this theater for Yank.
(Photo by T/3 Walter J. Tanner.)
THE DESERT SIND
The merciless sun in the Desert Sind,
Beats down upon the cursed land;
All growth is withered in the fiery wind,
Evil lies in the drifting sand.
No mortal lives in its desolate waste,
'Tis forsaken by God and man,
Made only to please the Devil's taste,
And to house his reptilian clan.
For sleeping here in the hellish sun
The lizard and the cobra lie;
A o'er the sand the jackals run,
As sleeping watch, the circling buzzards fly.
Evening falls and cloaks the scene
With darkness; the rising moon
Bathes the waste with solver sheen;
The whispering wind sings a ghostly tune.
The Masters' touch has changed the land.
Myriads of stars make the Heaven's fall.
'Tis more wonderous than a fairyland -
Beauty's mantle envelopes all.
- By Pvt. ANTHINY J. TARINELLI
A WOMAN OF BURMA SPEAKS
Awaken, little one, and go
Before the teakwood trees
Are touched by morning and become
Alive with enemies.
They took your father. Oh, my son,
How thickly dark and red
The blood ran on that afternoon
They struck him swiftly dead.
Your brothers marched into the south
And no one now can say
If still they live, or if they fell
At Prome or Sandoway.
But there beyond the Naga Hills
Are friends who fight until
The world grows sane again and men
No longer lust to kill.
Go be with them. The dawn is near
Our parting must be brief,
Although my heart is cold and numb
There is no time for grief.
Nor mind not leaving me alone.
For you are young and strong,
While I am old and worn by life
And here's where I belong.
The wars may come, and husbands go,
And children say goodbye, But Burmese mothers always stay
At home until they die.
Until our land is free once more
Your work will not be done.
Now lift your head up toward the sky,
Farewell - farewell, my son!
- By Sgt. SMITH DAWLESS
AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW
I stood at the end of the rainbow,
But not in the fields nearby,
It was far from the day of childhood
And under a distant sky -
I was scarred with the years of struggle,
And had waited wearily.
No, I never reached the rainbow,
But the rainbow came to me.
I stood on a shower-drenched hillside
When the sun was in the West,
Without a thought of the rainbow
And my half-forgotten quest.
When suddenly all about me
A glory was flaming free.
A wonder of shining color,
The rainbow had come to me.
Though vain are your years of searching,
And empty your groping hand,
Doubt not there will be a moment
In some distant day and land
When a glory will be about you
That your youth-dreams never knew.
Do your duty, and wait in patience,
And the rainbow will come to you.
- By WILLIAM WIGGINS