For the first time since the C.B.I. Roundup was published from the embittered front line trenches of Per Diem Hill, the theater fishwrapper will be provided with competition.
Starting next week, Yank magazine will make its appearance in China, India and Burma.
Matrice of the Army weekly mag will be airmailed to the theater every week and the printing job will be done in India as soon as they are received. Thanks to reverse lend-lease, Yank will be distributed for free.
But don't read it in our presence; we're awful sensitive.
|Eye-filling Noel Toy provides Chinese atmosphere at New York City's Follies Bergere.|
|An MGM talent scout discovered Dona Mae Jaden at the Hollywood Canteen.|
|There's nothing quite like a form-fitting bathing suit to show off a figger like Frances Rafferty's.|
|A publicity blurb introduces Margaret Hayes as the screen's best-dressed secretary. Who's kidding who? As Dana Dale, she invaded Hollywood from the Broadway stage.|
|Lovely Marguerite Chapman is the possessor of the most unusual title of the year - "The (censored) Girl." Maybe you can figure it out.|
|Coyly peeking over her shoulder at all youse wolves is luscious Rosemary La Planche, "Miss America of 1941."|
|You'd just turn this panel upside down anyway, so we'll save you the trouble. Meet Juanita Stark, Virginia Patton, Joyce Reynolds and Georgia Lee Settle.|
The Old Bounce|
FOR TWO LOOEYS
Duration Den, the glittering Red Cross bandbox dedicated to sustaining the morale of Delhi's embattled enlisted men, has come of age.
During a comparatively short time recently, two lieutenants have discarded all insignia in order to partake therein of the hidden pleasures reserved for enlisted men only.
In both cases, the gentlemen in question were promptly tossed out on their cookies and in both cases we suspect the influence of the wise French axiom cherchez la femme.
The last lieutenant had a ready answer when he was caught. Said he:
"My girl is here and, besides, I'm just an enlisted man at heart."
The Red Cross director inquired if he would like to pass those tender sentiments on to his Commanding General.
The answer was, "No."
At first I was silent completely.
Forgot about sleeping and eating;
Unheard were the words of the cynics
Because of my heart's noisy beating -
For she was my object of living,
The one that my heart cared to harbor
At present, a month or so later,
She's freely discussed with my barber.
- By M/Sgt. H. E. KELLENBERGER
THE BELLS OF INDIA
The sound of our bells is a happy song
As it cascades copiously all day long.
And if you will listen, I'm sure you'll agree
That a bell is a cell full of melody.
There is never a moan or a tear or sigh
Escapes from a bell-note fluttering by;
But a tremulous chuckle that shatters the gloom.
Or a deep-throated laugh with a bass-born boom.
There are notes like the sparkle of star-rays here
That tremble and shake in each tiny sphere;
There are captured raptures in slivered notes
That tumble wildly from silver throats.
It's a song's delirious urge for flight
From out of the dawn and into the night.
And the joyous ecstasy of singing
Impels our bells to their restless ringing.
- By WETHERILL WOOD, A.N.C.
ALAS! WOE UNTO THE CENSOR
I am a censor and oh, what a curse.
Of all the jobs, this is the worst.
I read these letters 'til far in the night.
And one in a hundred is probably right;
I hack and I cut with my trusty blade
As on through the mountains of mail I wade.
There are letters to sweethearts, friends and wives;
It's strange to know intimately so many lives.
I read of their 'plaints, ambitions and dreams.
Of their sorrows, loves, and of their schemes-
Here I must cut for mentions the rain,
Another slice out for he talks of terrain;
Another excision - he wrote of a date.
Must cut again, says "shipments are late."
Enclosed is a picture that cannot be sent.
For in it there shows one G.I. tent.
I'm tired and I'm weary; I'll give this one Hell.
Who'd write such drivel? Please pray me tell!
Well, this letter's censored, all goodness knows.
All's gone but "dearest" and "with love I close."
This is the worst I have seen in my life.
What's this?!! Ye Gods! From me to my wife!
Nathan A. Cheesman, Wiiliam L. Clark, Raymond G. Curry, Robert E. Dales, Ribert R. Ebey, Marvin W. Fey, Paul D. Green, Jack Greondal, Scott A. Holman,
George R. Jernigan, Virgil W. Kinnamon, John W. Decraw, Jr., John Lemich, Teller S. Price, Ray L. Ryder, Edwin A. Senkbell, Donald J. Spreitzer, Eugene, K. Stein bacher,
Joseph F. Zizlavsky, Leo N. Levi.
Flight Officers Burdette H. Baker, Clyde F. Beall, Gary J. Groll, Edward I. Huntington, Howard E. Sanders, Paul S. Sjoberg.
T/Sgts. William E. Rooney, Kenneth E, Mugfors, Roman H. Schaffer, Edward E. Hatcher, Ralph Long, Robert F. Nay.
S/Sgts. Doyle W. Goforth, Charles D. Anderson, Ulyus Q. Barkley, Jackson E. Brannen, Jr., George B. Crandall, Joe Farkas, William W. Henry, James N. House, Bert M. Jordan, George A. Lamar, James S. McAuliffe, Norwood W. Northcutt, Stanley A. Penkul, Thomas Pratt, Mason O. Proper, Oscar M. Smith, Jr., Horace J. Staples, Otho L. Swofford, Edmond A. Vasseur, J. C. Akey, Charles Williams.
Cpls. Phillip Graf, John E. Leisure, Jr., Harold S. Reynolds.