Memphis World
Memphis World Publishing Co.
1957-04-10
Raymond F. Tisby

MEMPHIS WORLD
The South's Oldest and Leading Colored Semi-Weekly Newspapers
Published by MEMPHIS WORLD PUBLISHING CO.
Every WEDNESDAY and SATURDAY at 564 BEALE — Phone JA. 6-4030
Member of SCOTT NEWSPAPER SYNDICATE
W. A. Scott, II, Founder; C. A. Scott, General Manager
Entered in the Post Office at Memphis, Tenn. as second-class mail
under the Act of Congress, March 1, 1870
RAYMOND F. TISBY Managing Editor
MRS. ROSA BROWN BRACY Public Relations and Advertising
ALYSON E. WISE Circulation Promotion
SUBSCRIPTION' RATES:
Year $5.00 — 6 Months $3.00 — 3 Months $1.50 (In Advance)
The MEMPHIS WORLD is an independent newspaper — non-sectarian
and non-partisan, printing news unbiasedly and supporting those things
it believes to be of interest to its renders and opposing those things
against the interest of its readers.

Bully For Texas
While it was in far away Texas, the lone star state, that the
two party system put new life into a contest for the United Senate,
it is nevertheless good thrill here, in that a Southern stole, whife in
the western portion, chalked up a sizable vote for the Republican
candidate.
In a tensely Democratic atmosphere, with the doily papers
trumping it up for Yarborough, the Democratic women, it look
courage for a Republican candidate lo lake up the challenge.
Ever since the restoration of the ballot lo our group, it has
been obvious that more people of the opposite race are regislering 
and voting and more interest is being added up in elections.
In a Democratic system, the more people vote the merrier. Many
fine people who might have voted for good candidates ore among
those who have come up to renew their faith in the ballot.
In the last few elections when there were Republican contenders 
for office it was highly noticeable at the huge turn out
of votes. The ease in which Charles Moye opposed Congressman
James C. Davis and when later on he was opposed by Randolph
Thrower, all ga to prove that when two parties are on the field,
the people take more interest in the voting.
For a deep-South — west Elate to make such a dint in the
suffrage for a Republican candidate is no sail hews. Irrespective
of party labels and party affiliation, a two party regime is welcome 
among us. II serves as a check and balance factor; something 
to draw into focus vital issues and above all, never allowing 
a primary to prove the election in fact.
Bully for Texas.

Lets Keep Saturday Mail
Whoever penned come such slogan above that post office
door in New York City, did not infer finance in those barriers
mentioned — which would not cense "these couriers on their
rounds." Maybe he didn't live in an age of struggle for party
control, nearly even balances in congressional bodies and possibly 
the income tax reach.
At any rate, there was reason for one to be concerned when
Post Master General Summerfield warned a few days ago that
unless such an appropriation as he was requesting were, forthcoming, 
the couriers might at least be stopped from their rounds
every Saturday, with business gelling one mail per day.
Apparently the appropriation the Postmaster General asked
was being short of some thirty million dollars; they gave only
seventeen million when the Postmaster General requested forlyseven 
million. That is a far gap in the dough and it is earnestly
hoped that things will be ironed out smoothly and that another
Slogan, with finance placed in the alternatives that might "mar
these couriers on their rounds."
Anyway, it is not rains, nor sleet nor flood that threatens
these couriers —- this time.

Military Clothing Seminar
Apr. 15 At Memphis Depot
The Military Clothing and Texthe 
inspection Office located at the
Memphis General Depot will be
host to approximately 50 contractors
from seven states at, a seminar on
quality control April 15. These contractors, 
who furnish clothing and
textiles to the Aimed Forces, will
be told of the need for more intensive 
contractor inspection, and
how it may be accomplished. The
majority attending will be representatives 
of firms now doing business
with the government, however, invitations 
have been extended to
other interested parties. Those participating 
will come from the states
of Tenn. Ky., Ark., Miss., La., Texas
and Okla. A second meeting will be
held at the Fort Worth General
Depot 17 April for those in the
same area who are unable to attend 
the Memphis meeting.
In all twelve quality control seminars 
will be held at various quartermaster 
Corps installations
throughout the country; beginning
was March 26, 1957.
Captain John B. Cline, U. S. Navy.

Chief of the Inspection Division of
the Military Clothing and Textile
Supply Agency. Philadelphia. Pa.,
will conduct the seminar assisted by
First Lt. Manion Saibel. Production
Engineer of the Inspection Division,
Military Clothing and Textile Supply 
Agency.
The primary aim or the program
is to mate possible acceptance of
garments and textiles upon the contractor's 
inspection results and
quality history, thus making necessary 
only a spot check by inspectors
from the seven Military Clothing
and Textile Inspection Offices centrally 
located in clothing and textile
manufacturing areas.
Major O. F. Nelson in Chief of the
Military Clothing and Textile Supply 
Office located at the Memphis
General Depot. The Inspection Office 
was activated at the Depot in
September 1955.

POSNER'S
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CONDITIONER
THERE'S

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Recommended by Beauticians everywhere
POSNER'S
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HAIR
CONDITIONER
OLIVE OIL
LANOLIN AND CHLOROPHYLL

Memphis

teresting frieze about music and
musical subjects as preparation for

listening about the music and instruments 
to be played by the Sinfonietta. 

The concert will provide an opportunity 
for the children to see
and feel the instruments and use
discrimination in selection of radio
and television programs. The children 
at Keel School hope these contells 
will continue to "BUILD
SYMPHONIC MUSIC for a GREAT
ER MEMPHIS."

Sees Country

aimed at. U. S. information, radio
and news programs and at too much
concentration of economic experts
in headquarters staff. He said the
news programs have not been as effective 
as they should be to counter
communist propaganda.
He said that generally African
diplomatic missions are "understaffed" 
and should be given more
money for travel and personnel of
the "highest compentence and stability." 
The emphasis, he added,
should be on "youth, vigor and enthusiasm." 

The Vice-President's report was
made public just after he left for
a week's needed vacation in Florida
He returned from Africa on March
21, tired and still fighting a persistent 
cough he picked up from a
"flu infection.
The Vice President's report callpfi 
Africa the "most rapidly changing 
area m the world today." He
said:
"The course of its development, as
its people continue to emerge from
a colonial status and assume responsibilities 
of independence and
stlf-government, could well prove
to be decisive factor in the conflict 
between the forces of freedom
and international communism."
Africa, he said is producing "great
leaders" and the U. S. must come
to know them better, encouragement
of interchange ot persons and idens
is vital to this end, he held.
Nowhere in the world, Nixon
found, is America, prestige held more
uniformly high. He stressed that
African countries "understand that
tne United Slates stands on principle 
and that this was the motivating 
force, for example, which led
us to act as we did in live recent
Suez crisis."
He said they understand that
the Eisenhower doctrine is "dedicated 
to the principle, of assisting
the states of the Middle East to
maintain their independence." Nixon 
won endorsements of the doctrine 
in Iibya, Ethiopia and Tunisia. 

As ho indicated during his trip
the Vice President said, that Communist 
domination in the states of
the a it a is not a present danger."
But he said the Red threat underlines 
the need for help so that
these countries can maintain independence 
and alleviate conditions 
on which communism breeds.
He recommended encouragement
of trade unionism is Africa and support 
of a "cooperative approach" in
development of the Nile River.

New Law

B. Degree from Southern Law University. 
He was a student at the
University of Aberdeen. Aberdeen,
Scotland and University of Tennessee. 
Mr. Ryan is a member of the
Loyal Order of Moose, the American 
Legion Post No. 1 and is Scoutmaster 
of Troop No. 22. Mr. Ryan
is very much interested in Scout
Work. He has practiced law in Memphis 
for the past seven years. He is
married to the former Margaret
Megenity. They have four children
and are members of the Blessed
Sacrament Church.
Mr. Dyle L. Pierce, Jr., is also a
native Memphian attending Memphis 
Tech High School. He is a
graduate of Memphis State College
and holds a B. S. Degree. He received 
his L. L. B. Degree from
Southern Law University in 1950
and was admitted to the Tennessee
Bar in February, 1957. Mr. Pierce
served with the United States Navy
during World War II in both the
European and Asiatic Theaters. He
is a member of American Legion
Post No. 1, the VFW Post No. 4916.
Frayser Lodge No. 746 F. & A. M.
and Lambda Chi Alpha Fraternity.
He is single and lives with his parents, 
Mr. and Mrs. D. L. Pierce. Sr.,
4242 Millington Road. He attends
the, Church of Christ.
The members of the association
will be engaged in the general practice 
of law.

INGROWN NAIL
HURTING YOU?
A few drops of OUTGRO ¯ bring blessed
relief from tormenting pain of ingrown hall.
OUTGRO toughens the skin underneath the
nall, allows the nail to be cut and thus prevents 
further pain and discomfort. OUTGRO
is available at all drug counters.


A few drops of OUTGRO ¯ bring blessed
relief from tormenting pain of ingrown hall.
OUTGRO toughens the skin underneath the
nall, allows the nail to be cut and thus prevents 
further pain and discomfort. OUTGRO
is available at all drug counters.

LOANS
—ON—

You will tike our prompt
friend ty service, courteous
treatment and desire to help.
Open Thursday And
Friday Nights Until 8 P. M.
CLOSED ALL
DAY SATURDAY


MY WEEKLY
SERMON
REV. BLAIR T. HUNT
PASTOR
MISSISSIPPI BLVD CHRISTIAN
CHURCH MEMPHIS

The Place — Golgotha; the time
— Close to three o'clock in the afternoon. 
There and then they heard
for the fourth time Jesus speak,
"Eloi, Eloi, Lama Sabacthani" ........
A strange mixture of language .....
Part Hebrew and part Aramaic.
What Jesus said was a quotation
from the twenty-second Psalm, "My
God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
me?" Centuries before, David
in his deep distress cried, "My God,
My God, why hast thou forsaken
me?"
So often we poor humans cry,
"Why, Why?" we can stand so
much. Seemingly we can stand no
more. Then it is we cry, "why did
this happen to me ........ Why must
I, a child of Cod, suffer so?" Why
did God permit my loved one to be
taken from me? ..... Why this
catastrophe to a child of God? ....

Is there no divine intervention?
Sometimes, we feel we too, are
treading the wine-press alone.
Divine non-intervention is life's
nornfal expression. Jesus was divine
yet he was so human, he hungered
....... He thirsted....... He wept
... He tired. He was made huishn. 
We read, "he was born of a
woman," though he was the son
of God. On the cross divine intervention 
would have made his humanity 
feigned, imaginary, fictitious. 
Divine intervention would
have made incomplete his sacrifices.
The road to sympathy would have
been blocked. That student who is
helped by the teacher every step
of the way will never make a scholar. 
"Saint-hood springs not from
celestial coddling."
We poor humans need not expect
to be carried "to the skies on flowery 
beds of ease. Remember: No
cross, no crown; no gall, no glory,
no thorns, no throne. It is good to
come up the rocky side, the rugged
steeps of life.
In Jesus blackest hour he turned
to God in prayer, "My God, my
God" ...... He cries........He is yet
"My God."
We likewise, in our black hours,
must turn to God in prayer. When
our faith falters, turn to God in
Prayer. Lean hard on tile everlasting 
arm of God. The harder we
lean, the stronger the support.
When it seems we have come to
the end of our rope, recall that awful 
hour on the cross when the
darkness was so dense it settled like
a pall upon Jesus. Three o'clock in
the afternoon ........ And yet darkness, 
deep darkness was over the
land. Jesus cried with a loud voice,
"My God, my God, why hath thou
forsaken me?"
Truly our great high priest was
touched with the fueling of our

infirmities. Jesus came out that,
black night into the sprint-time of
a faith that gave him power to say,
"Father into thy hands I commend 
my spirit."
Remember, "the darkest hour is
just before day."
In the twenty-second Psalm we
read, "My God, My God, why has
thou forsaken me?" In the twentythird 
Psalm we read, "Even though
walk in the dark valley of death,
I fear no evil: For you are ever by
my side."

THE FOURTH WORD
REV. BLAIR T. HUNT
PASTOR
MISSISSIPPI BLVD CHRISTIAN
CHURCH MEMPHIS

The Place — Golgotha; the time
— Close to three o'clock in the afternoon. 
There and then they heard
for the fourth time Jesus speak,
"Eloi, Eloi, Lama Sabacthani" ........
A strange mixture of language .....
Part Hebrew and part Aramaic.
What Jesus said was a quotation
from the twenty-second Psalm, "My
God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
me?" Centuries before, David
in his deep distress cried, "My God,
My God, why hast thou forsaken
me?"
So often we poor humans cry,
"Why, Why?" we can stand so
much. Seemingly we can stand no
more. Then it is we cry, "why did
this happen to me ........ Why must
I, a child of Cod, suffer so?" Why
did God permit my loved one to be
taken from me? ..... Why this
catastrophe to a child of God? ....

Is there no divine intervention?
Sometimes, we feel we too, are
treading the wine-press alone.
Divine non-intervention is life's
nornfal expression. Jesus was divine
yet he was so human, he hungered
....... He thirsted....... He wept
... He tired. He was made huishn. 
We read, "he was born of a
woman," though he was the son
of God. On the cross divine intervention 
would have made his humanity 
feigned, imaginary, fictitious. 
Divine intervention would
have made incomplete his sacrifices.
The road to sympathy would have
been blocked. That student who is
helped by the teacher every step
of the way will never make a scholar. 
"Saint-hood springs not from
celestial coddling."
We poor humans need not expect
to be carried "to the skies on flowery 
beds of ease. Remember: No
cross, no crown; no gall, no glory,
no thorns, no throne. It is good to
come up the rocky side, the rugged
steeps of life.
In Jesus blackest hour he turned
to God in prayer, "My God, my
God" ...... He cries........He is yet
"My God."
We likewise, in our black hours,
must turn to God in prayer. When
our faith falters, turn to God in
Prayer. Lean hard on tile everlasting 
arm of God. The harder we
lean, the stronger the support.
When it seems we have come to
the end of our rope, recall that awful 
hour on the cross when the
darkness was so dense it settled like
a pall upon Jesus. Three o'clock in
the afternoon ........ And yet darkness, 
deep darkness was over the
land. Jesus cried with a loud voice,
"My God, my God, why hath thou
forsaken me?"
Truly our great high priest was
touched with the fueling of our

infirmities. Jesus came out that,
black night into the sprint-time of
a faith that gave him power to say,
"Father into thy hands I commend 
my spirit."
Remember, "the darkest hour is
just before day."
In the twenty-second Psalm we
read, "My God, My God, why has
thou forsaken me?" In the twentythird 
Psalm we read, "Even though
walk in the dark valley of death,
I fear no evil: For you are ever by
my side."

Rev. A. A. Bennett

high offices in the Baptist denomination 
while remaining active
in civic affairs of the city and
state.
Survivors in addition to his sister 
and two daughters are: five
grandchildren; Bennetta, Kenneth,
and Paula Smith of Washington,
D. C.; June and Dorothy Fort
Nashville: a brother-in-law. Cr. H.
E. Davis, San Francisco, Calif., two
sons-in-law, Exum L. Smith. Jr.,
Washington, D. C., and William H.
Fort, Nashville; one niece. Elizabeth 
Bryant. St. Louis Mo; and
a nephew, Rev. Office Bryant, St.
Louis, Mo.

FAREWELL MY LOVE! —
Betty Johnson, as Cecily Harden, ihds
her lover, O'Farrell Nelson, "Geoffery Carroll", a tender farewell
in a gripping scene from "The Two Mrs. Carrolls" to be presented
by the AKA sorority Friday night, April". 12, in LeMoyne's Bruce
Hall.

Mrs. Paulette Cooke Atkins
Passes After Long Illness
BY JEWEL GENTRY
Many Memphians and co-workers
were grieved to heir on Saturday,
April 6, that a lovable and popular 
member of the "younger set"
had passed away that evening at
the E. H. Crump Memorial Hospital. 
Mrs. Atkins has been ill several 
months out had gotten up and
gone back to Riverview School
where she was a teacher. She had
been confined to the hospital bed
three weeks before her death.
The pretty young matron, who
was loved by all of her friends and
idolized by members of her family
and her husband's family, was
graduated from Tennessee State

University several years ago. She
was a member of the Debonair Set
Club and the Silhouette (Kappa
Wives).
She was a devout member of St.
Augustine Catholic Church ...
where Mass will be heard at 9 a.
m. Tuesday morning. Burial will
bo in Elmwood Cemetery.
Mrs. Atkins is survived by a devoted 
husband, Mr. Joseph A. Atkins, 
a young business man and
also a city school teacher; a father
and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Longino
Cook, Sr., a brother and sister Mr.
Logino. Cooke, Jr. and Mrs. Lerraine 
C. Winlock and a host of
relatives and friends. T. H. Hayes
and Sons Funeral Homes is in
charge of services.

T. H. HAYES AND SONS ARE
IN CHARGE OF SERVICES
BY JEWEL GENTRY
Many Memphians and co-workers
were grieved to heir on Saturday,
April 6, that a lovable and popular 
member of the "younger set"
had passed away that evening at
the E. H. Crump Memorial Hospital. 
Mrs. Atkins has been ill several 
months out had gotten up and
gone back to Riverview School
where she was a teacher. She had
been confined to the hospital bed
three weeks before her death.
The pretty young matron, who
was loved by all of her friends and
idolized by members of her family
and her husband's family, was
graduated from Tennessee State

University several years ago. She
was a member of the Debonair Set
Club and the Silhouette (Kappa
Wives).
She was a devout member of St.
Augustine Catholic Church ...
where Mass will be heard at 9 a.
m. Tuesday morning. Burial will
bo in Elmwood Cemetery.
Mrs. Atkins is survived by a devoted 
husband, Mr. Joseph A. Atkins, 
a young business man and
also a city school teacher; a father
and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Longino
Cook, Sr., a brother and sister Mr.
Logino. Cooke, Jr. and Mrs. Lerraine 
C. Winlock and a host of
relatives and friends. T. H. Hayes
and Sons Funeral Homes is in
charge of services.

Bishop L. H. Ford
To Be Honored In
Chicago, April 29
The
promotion of Bishop. L. H. Ford,
pastor or one of Chicago's largest
Pentecostal churches and Central
Illinois Church of God in Christ
Bishop, to chairman of the Golden
Jubilee Holy Convocation of the
Church of God in Christ will be
marked by a testimonial dinner in
Chicago, April 29 at 4528 S. Wabash
Avenue, sponsored by 82 pastors
and civic leaders.
The announcement of the dinner
was made at the conclusion of the
Central Illinois 5-day state workers
meeting, March 30, attended by
more than 6,000 persons, along with
outstanding national church officials 
including Bishop A. B. McEwen, 
chairman of the bishop's
board, of Memphis, Tennessee.
Heading the committee for the
L. H. Ford. Testimonial, dinner will
be Mrs. Rosie Hines, Central Illinois
supervisor of women; and Rev. Moses 
Cross, assistant state overseer.
As chairman of the Golden Jubilee 
Holy Convocation, Bishop Ford
heads a planning committee of
church executives, state bishops, and
state supervisors; along with lay
and civic leaders. The meeting, expected 
to attract more than 25,000
church members to Memphis will
be under the direction of presiding
officers, Bishop C. H. Mason, Senior
Bishop and founder, and Mrs. Lillian 
Brooks, national supervisor of
women. The meeting will be held
in Memphis, Tenn., November thruDecember 
15.

Baseball Score

The Brass and the Blue
By
JAMES KEENE
© Copyright, 1956, by James Keene, Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. [King Features Syndicate]
Second Lieutenant Emil Schwabacker 
was on edge. He'd had a year
of inaction with the Cavalry at Fort
Laramie, Wyoming. A year of waiting, 
a year of one dreary patrol after
another. He felt pent up under the
infailibly exacting, coldly reserved,
First Lieutenant Temple Jocelyn.
Even, the thought of his fiancee, Henrietta, 
was not consoling, for she was
back in Vermont, a painful memory.
But this patrol upon which he rode
was different. A company of infantry
had been sent to reinforce Fort Laramie 
Jocelyn's troop had been ordered
to Ryndlee's ranch to rendezvous
the company and escort it. A mile
from Rynlee's, the cavalrymen
spotted the ranch, with the infantry
position ringed by warriors. Jocelan
sent. Emil with the second seation to
fight a diversionary action to draw
off some of the attackers, while Jocelyn, 
pushed through to the infantrymen. 
When the two-pronged assault
had forced the Indians to retreat,
Emil and Jocelyn forced the company
of infantry shattered Ryndlee appeared 
with a woman—the wife of
Infantry Captain Nathan Kincaid,
who was in agony with a mangled
arm. There was no anesthetic and
Kincaid was made drunk with whiskey. 
There Emil, who had run away
from a medical career to the Army.
tried to use some of his old skill in
amputation Kincaid's arm.
EMIL Schwabacker's wounded
arm was a flaming fury and
the last hour had been a severe
drain on him, not so much physically 
as mentally, dragging up
all the things he was in the army
to forget. He turned to the door
as Sergeant Major Finnegan
came up. "Can you step out here
a minute, sor?" Finnegan's torehead 
was worry-wrinkled, his
voice gravelly with worry. Schwabacker 
stepped into the hallway.
"Sor. Lieutenant Jocelyn caught
a bad one that last round."
...
The inner voice was a snout, a
whoop of immense joy. Long atterward 
Emil Schwa backer would
feel shame for this thought, but
in that moment he could not help
himself. He was alone al last,
in command of a troop and a
desperate situation, If there was
anything in him, it was bound
to come out, good or bad, and
man Had to know. He could not
live without knowing.
He found voice. "Baa? How
bad?"
"I don't know, sor," Finnegan
said, "Mike speaks like you was
a doctor, sor, judgin" from the
way you worked on the captain.
It's in his cheat,' sor. High, but
he's blowin blood with every
breath."
Schwabacker pushed past Finnegan 
and went into the main
room. A gathering of troopers
around Temple Jocelyn parted
when he knelt down. Jocelyn was
conscious, but in deep pain.
He said, "You're in ... command, 
Mister. Now we find ...
out what, you ... are; A soldier
or a ... parade-ground dandy."
Linahan was there. He said,
"You got to do somethin', sor!"
"Keep him in a sitting position," 
Schwabacker said. "Strip
off his shirt." Jocelyn made feeble 
protest, but Schwabacker
would have none it. He examined 
the wound carefully, noting
that there was no exit hole. The
lead was still in him. There was
a fragment of torn metal in the
wound and Schwabacker removed
this in Jocelyn's shirt pocket he
found the cause, a daguerreotype
of a young woman holding an, intant 
in her arms. The bullet had

passed through it, betiding it
badly.
Schwabacker stood up. "Mike,
I'll need a stout wire with a hook
bent into the end. Sharpen it if
you can, and bring another lamp
here. We'll have to sterilize it in
the flame."
"Aye, sor."
While Linahan went about his
business, Schwabacker saw to a
dozen details of defense. All the
while Temple Jocelyn watched
him with pain-dimmed eyes, like
an exacting schoolmaster, mentally 
tabulating his errors, for
some future accounting.
Schwabacker's arm was a
bough of pain and he walked with
it cradled against his stomach.
The warrior's knife had sliced
the length of the forearm. He
could recall the feel of the knife
point raking bone; this was his
only distinct Impression of the
whole fight. The rest was a mudgray 
haze.
Linahan came back with his
homemade probe. Schwabacker
looked at it, then flashed this
rough Irishman a quick smile, of
appreciation. "More water, cloth.
You Know what, Mike."
"Aye sor."
Temple Jocelyn had the question 
in his eyes when Emil Schwabacker 
knelt again. "Are you a
. . . surgeon now, Mr. Schwabacker 
?"
"I would have been," Schwabacker 
said bluntly. "I had seven
months to go before graduation.
"A man of ... hidden talents,'
Jocelyn panted heavily and sweat
bathed his race.
Tile mans indifference galled
Schwabacker. He said, "It seems
that were all hiding something,
sir."
Jocelyn did not take any whiskey 
to ease the pain. He made
tew sounds, save the agonized
sawing of his breath. Sweat came
out of every pore, and when
Schwabacker dropped the lead
ball into the pan of pink water,
Jocelyn was too weak to open
his eyes.
Leaving the bandaging to Corporal 
Linahan, Schwabacker drew
Sergeant Finnegan to one side.
"You've been his sergeant fourteen 
years, isn't that right?"
"Aye, sor."
"Then you know a lot about
him."
"That's right, sor. All there is
to know."
Schwabacker drew a deep
breath because he felt slightly
dizzy. The pain in his arm was
numbing. "Sergeant, I'll give it
to you straight. You heard what
I said to the lieutenant; I was
once nearly a doctor, be I know
what I'm talking about. He may
die. So I want to know about
him." He took the battered tintype 
from his pocket. "I want to
know about her."
"The lieutenant keeps that to
himself, sor."
"You're lying," Schwabacker
said flatly. "Sergeant, don't you
think she'd want to know?"
Finnegan pawed his face out
of shape. "I guess, sor." He
glanced at Jocelyn, who sat propped 
between two troopers, his
head tipped forward on his chest.
"They met before the war, sor. A
real Southern beauty, Proud she
was One or the Fawnstock wom
en 
from Richmond." He smiled,
finding remembering pleasant
"He was different in them days,
sor. Always laughing he was,
When the states began to secede,
th' feelin' was a bit nigh, sor.
Like I said, she was a real Southern 
aristocrat. Th' war broke 'em
both apart, sor, but I think they
could have forgot that exceptin'
for her brother. The lieutenant
caught him one night past th'
Union picket lines, sor. Cap'n
Fawnstock was in civilian
clothes."
Schwabacker's shock was intense. 
"You mean—?"
"Aye, sor. Th' lieutenant commanded 
th' firin' squad."
"God! What a thing for a man
to carry."
"What I've said is for you
alone, sor," Finnegan said. "If he
lives and I ever hear you speak
of it, I'd have to kill you, sor."
He spoke without heat, a flat,
positive statement that rang true.
Somehow Emil Schwabacker
was not offended. He touched
Finnegan on the shoulder briefly.
"I understand, Sergeant is that
why he watches the mall? Because 
he thinks she'll write?"
"Aye, sor. The lieutenant's
written every week lot seven
years an' never got an answer,
sor. If he lives, he'll write every
week until he dies, or until he
gets an answer."
"Thank you, Sergeant." Schwabacker 
turned away and met Sergeant 
McGruger coming up.
"It's possible to go outside, sir.
Cassidy and a couple of the
others have been doin' some longrange 
sniping and they've shoved
the Indians out to about four
hundred yards."
"Excellent. Get a five-man detail 
together and tend to the
mounts." He turned, composed, in
complete command of himself.
The pain in his body was a detached 
pain and he found he
could endure it. He looked at
Lieutenant Jocelyn and found the
tall officer conscious.
Sergeant McCruger said, "How
long are we staying, sir?"
"I think we'll take, our chances
late this evening," Schwabacker
said. He caught flight of Lieutenant 
Eastwood in the hallway
leading to Lydia Kincaid's room.
The man's idleness, his apparent
indecision, irked Schwabacker,
"Sergeant, take the lieutenant
with you outside, but he is not
in command."
"I understand, sir."
As McGruger moved away, Lydia 
Kincaid came to the doorway,
"I think I can be of some use,"
she said. She was running, on
nerve alone, Schwabacker deelded. 

"Do what you want," he said.
Corporal Mike Linahan, who
had been with Schwabacker since
his frontier assignment, hovered
like a fretting hen. "Can I tend
to that arm sor?"
He wanted to let him, but he
could feel Temple Jocelyn's Judging 
eyes boring into his back,
measuring him now as he had always 
measured him. Lieutenant
Schwabacker said, "Forget it,
Corporal. Go see what you can do
for the lieutenant."
He felt a little silly after he
said it.
()
© Copyright, 1956, by James Keens, Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. [King Features Syndicate]

WHAT IS HAPPENING
By
JAMES KEENE
© Copyright, 1956, by James Keene, Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. [King Features Syndicate]
Second Lieutenant Emil Schwabacker 
was on edge. He'd had a year
of inaction with the Cavalry at Fort
Laramie, Wyoming. A year of waiting, 
a year of one dreary patrol after
another. He felt pent up under the
infailibly exacting, coldly reserved,
First Lieutenant Temple Jocelyn.
Even, the thought of his fiancee, Henrietta, 
was not consoling, for she was
back in Vermont, a painful memory.
But this patrol upon which he rode
was different. A company of infantry
had been sent to reinforce Fort Laramie 
Jocelyn's troop had been ordered
to Ryndlee's ranch to rendezvous
the company and escort it. A mile
from Rynlee's, the cavalrymen
spotted the ranch, with the infantry
position ringed by warriors. Jocelan
sent. Emil with the second seation to
fight a diversionary action to draw
off some of the attackers, while Jocelyn, 
pushed through to the infantrymen. 
When the two-pronged assault
had forced the Indians to retreat,
Emil and Jocelyn forced the company
of infantry shattered Ryndlee appeared 
with a woman—the wife of
Infantry Captain Nathan Kincaid,
who was in agony with a mangled
arm. There was no anesthetic and
Kincaid was made drunk with whiskey. 
There Emil, who had run away
from a medical career to the Army.
tried to use some of his old skill in
amputation Kincaid's arm.
EMIL Schwabacker's wounded
arm was a flaming fury and
the last hour had been a severe
drain on him, not so much physically 
as mentally, dragging up
all the things he was in the army
to forget. He turned to the door
as Sergeant Major Finnegan
came up. "Can you step out here
a minute, sor?" Finnegan's torehead 
was worry-wrinkled, his
voice gravelly with worry. Schwabacker 
stepped into the hallway.
"Sor. Lieutenant Jocelyn caught
a bad one that last round."
...
The inner voice was a snout, a
whoop of immense joy. Long atterward 
Emil Schwa backer would
feel shame for this thought, but
in that moment he could not help
himself. He was alone al last,
in command of a troop and a
desperate situation, If there was
anything in him, it was bound
to come out, good or bad, and
man Had to know. He could not
live without knowing.
He found voice. "Baa? How
bad?"
"I don't know, sor," Finnegan
said, "Mike speaks like you was
a doctor, sor, judgin" from the
way you worked on the captain.
It's in his cheat,' sor. High, but
he's blowin blood with every
breath."
Schwabacker pushed past Finnegan 
and went into the main
room. A gathering of troopers
around Temple Jocelyn parted
when he knelt down. Jocelyn was
conscious, but in deep pain.
He said, "You're in ... command, 
Mister. Now we find ...
out what, you ... are; A soldier
or a ... parade-ground dandy."
Linahan was there. He said,
"You got to do somethin', sor!"
"Keep him in a sitting position," 
Schwabacker said. "Strip
off his shirt." Jocelyn made feeble 
protest, but Schwabacker
would have none it. He examined 
the wound carefully, noting
that there was no exit hole. The
lead was still in him. There was
a fragment of torn metal in the
wound and Schwabacker removed
this in Jocelyn's shirt pocket he
found the cause, a daguerreotype
of a young woman holding an, intant 
in her arms. The bullet had

passed through it, betiding it
badly.
Schwabacker stood up. "Mike,
I'll need a stout wire with a hook
bent into the end. Sharpen it if
you can, and bring another lamp
here. We'll have to sterilize it in
the flame."
"Aye, sor."
While Linahan went about his
business, Schwabacker saw to a
dozen details of defense. All the
while Temple Jocelyn watched
him with pain-dimmed eyes, like
an exacting schoolmaster, mentally 
tabulating his errors, for
some future accounting.
Schwabacker's arm was a
bough of pain and he walked with
it cradled against his stomach.
The warrior's knife had sliced
the length of the forearm. He
could recall the feel of the knife
point raking bone; this was his
only distinct Impression of the
whole fight. The rest was a mudgray 
haze.
Linahan came back with his
homemade probe. Schwabacker
looked at it, then flashed this
rough Irishman a quick smile, of
appreciation. "More water, cloth.
You Know what, Mike."
"Aye sor."
Temple Jocelyn had the question 
in his eyes when Emil Schwabacker 
knelt again. "Are you a
. . . surgeon now, Mr. Schwabacker 
?"
"I would have been," Schwabacker 
said bluntly. "I had seven
months to go before graduation.
"A man of ... hidden talents,'
Jocelyn panted heavily and sweat
bathed his race.
Tile mans indifference galled
Schwabacker. He said, "It seems
that were all hiding something,
sir."
Jocelyn did not take any whiskey 
to ease the pain. He made
tew sounds, save the agonized
sawing of his breath. Sweat came
out of every pore, and when
Schwabacker dropped the lead
ball into the pan of pink water,
Jocelyn was too weak to open
his eyes.
Leaving the bandaging to Corporal 
Linahan, Schwabacker drew
Sergeant Finnegan to one side.
"You've been his sergeant fourteen 
years, isn't that right?"
"Aye, sor."
"Then you know a lot about
him."
"That's right, sor. All there is
to know."
Schwabacker drew a deep
breath because he felt slightly
dizzy. The pain in his arm was
numbing. "Sergeant, I'll give it
to you straight. You heard what
I said to the lieutenant; I was
once nearly a doctor, be I know
what I'm talking about. He may
die. So I want to know about
him." He took the battered tintype 
from his pocket. "I want to
know about her."
"The lieutenant keeps that to
himself, sor."
"You're lying," Schwabacker
said flatly. "Sergeant, don't you
think she'd want to know?"
Finnegan pawed his face out
of shape. "I guess, sor." He
glanced at Jocelyn, who sat propped 
between two troopers, his
head tipped forward on his chest.
"They met before the war, sor. A
real Southern beauty, Proud she
was One or the Fawnstock wom
en 
from Richmond." He smiled,
finding remembering pleasant
"He was different in them days,
sor. Always laughing he was,
When the states began to secede,
th' feelin' was a bit nigh, sor.
Like I said, she was a real Southern 
aristocrat. Th' war broke 'em
both apart, sor, but I think they
could have forgot that exceptin'
for her brother. The lieutenant
caught him one night past th'
Union picket lines, sor. Cap'n
Fawnstock was in civilian
clothes."
Schwabacker's shock was intense. 
"You mean—?"
"Aye, sor. Th' lieutenant commanded 
th' firin' squad."
"God! What a thing for a man
to carry."
"What I've said is for you
alone, sor," Finnegan said. "If he
lives and I ever hear you speak
of it, I'd have to kill you, sor."
He spoke without heat, a flat,
positive statement that rang true.
Somehow Emil Schwabacker
was not offended. He touched
Finnegan on the shoulder briefly.
"I understand, Sergeant is that
why he watches the mall? Because 
he thinks she'll write?"
"Aye, sor. The lieutenant's
written every week lot seven
years an' never got an answer,
sor. If he lives, he'll write every
week until he dies, or until he
gets an answer."
"Thank you, Sergeant." Schwabacker 
turned away and met Sergeant 
McGruger coming up.
"It's possible to go outside, sir.
Cassidy and a couple of the
others have been doin' some longrange 
sniping and they've shoved
the Indians out to about four
hundred yards."
"Excellent. Get a five-man detail 
together and tend to the
mounts." He turned, composed, in
complete command of himself.
The pain in his body was a detached 
pain and he found he
could endure it. He looked at
Lieutenant Jocelyn and found the
tall officer conscious.
Sergeant McCruger said, "How
long are we staying, sir?"
"I think we'll take, our chances
late this evening," Schwabacker
said. He caught flight of Lieutenant 
Eastwood in the hallway
leading to Lydia Kincaid's room.
The man's idleness, his apparent
indecision, irked Schwabacker,
"Sergeant, take the lieutenant
with you outside, but he is not
in command."
"I understand, sir."
As McGruger moved away, Lydia 
Kincaid came to the doorway,
"I think I can be of some use,"
she said. She was running, on
nerve alone, Schwabacker deelded. 

"Do what you want," he said.
Corporal Mike Linahan, who
had been with Schwabacker since
his frontier assignment, hovered
like a fretting hen. "Can I tend
to that arm sor?"
He wanted to let him, but he
could feel Temple Jocelyn's Judging 
eyes boring into his back,
measuring him now as he had always 
measured him. Lieutenant
Schwabacker said, "Forget it,
Corporal. Go see what you can do
for the lieutenant."
He felt a little silly after he
said it.
()
© Copyright, 1956, by James Keens, Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. [King Features Syndicate]

CHAPTER 6
By
JAMES KEENE
© Copyright, 1956, by James Keene, Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. [King Features Syndicate]
Second Lieutenant Emil Schwabacker 
was on edge. He'd had a year
of inaction with the Cavalry at Fort
Laramie, Wyoming. A year of waiting, 
a year of one dreary patrol after
another. He felt pent up under the
infailibly exacting, coldly reserved,
First Lieutenant Temple Jocelyn.
Even, the thought of his fiancee, Henrietta, 
was not consoling, for she was
back in Vermont, a painful memory.
But this patrol upon which he rode
was different. A company of infantry
had been sent to reinforce Fort Laramie 
Jocelyn's troop had been ordered
to Ryndlee's ranch to rendezvous
the company and escort it. A mile
from Rynlee's, the cavalrymen
spotted the ranch, with the infantry
position ringed by warriors. Jocelan
sent. Emil with the second seation to
fight a diversionary action to draw
off some of the attackers, while Jocelyn, 
pushed through to the infantrymen. 
When the two-pronged assault
had forced the Indians to retreat,
Emil and Jocelyn forced the company
of infantry shattered Ryndlee appeared 
with a woman—the wife of
Infantry Captain Nathan Kincaid,
who was in agony with a mangled
arm. There was no anesthetic and
Kincaid was made drunk with whiskey. 
There Emil, who had run away
from a medical career to the Army.
tried to use some of his old skill in
amputation Kincaid's arm.
EMIL Schwabacker's wounded
arm was a flaming fury and
the last hour had been a severe
drain on him, not so much physically 
as mentally, dragging up
all the things he was in the army
to forget. He turned to the door
as Sergeant Major Finnegan
came up. "Can you step out here
a minute, sor?" Finnegan's torehead 
was worry-wrinkled, his
voice gravelly with worry. Schwabacker 
stepped into the hallway.
"Sor. Lieutenant Jocelyn caught
a bad one that last round."
...
The inner voice was a snout, a
whoop of immense joy. Long atterward 
Emil Schwa backer would
feel shame for this thought, but
in that moment he could not help
himself. He was alone al last,
in command of a troop and a
desperate situation, If there was
anything in him, it was bound
to come out, good or bad, and
man Had to know. He could not
live without knowing.
He found voice. "Baa? How
bad?"
"I don't know, sor," Finnegan
said, "Mike speaks like you was
a doctor, sor, judgin" from the
way you worked on the captain.
It's in his cheat,' sor. High, but
he's blowin blood with every
breath."
Schwabacker pushed past Finnegan 
and went into the main
room. A gathering of troopers
around Temple Jocelyn parted
when he knelt down. Jocelyn was
conscious, but in deep pain.
He said, "You're in ... command, 
Mister. Now we find ...
out what, you ... are; A soldier
or a ... parade-ground dandy."
Linahan was there. He said,
"You got to do somethin', sor!"
"Keep him in a sitting position," 
Schwabacker said. "Strip
off his shirt." Jocelyn made feeble 
protest, but Schwabacker
would have none it. He examined 
the wound carefully, noting
that there was no exit hole. The
lead was still in him. There was
a fragment of torn metal in the
wound and Schwabacker removed
this in Jocelyn's shirt pocket he
found the cause, a daguerreotype
of a young woman holding an, intant 
in her arms. The bullet had

passed through it, betiding it
badly.
Schwabacker stood up. "Mike,
I'll need a stout wire with a hook
bent into the end. Sharpen it if
you can, and bring another lamp
here. We'll have to sterilize it in
the flame."
"Aye, sor."
While Linahan went about his
business, Schwabacker saw to a
dozen details of defense. All the
while Temple Jocelyn watched
him with pain-dimmed eyes, like
an exacting schoolmaster, mentally 
tabulating his errors, for
some future accounting.
Schwabacker's arm was a
bough of pain and he walked with
it cradled against his stomach.
The warrior's knife had sliced
the length of the forearm. He
could recall the feel of the knife
point raking bone; this was his
only distinct Impression of the
whole fight. The rest was a mudgray 
haze.
Linahan came back with his
homemade probe. Schwabacker
looked at it, then flashed this
rough Irishman a quick smile, of
appreciation. "More water, cloth.
You Know what, Mike."
"Aye sor."
Temple Jocelyn had the question 
in his eyes when Emil Schwabacker 
knelt again. "Are you a
. . . surgeon now, Mr. Schwabacker 
?"
"I would have been," Schwabacker 
said bluntly. "I had seven
months to go before graduation.
"A man of ... hidden talents,'
Jocelyn panted heavily and sweat
bathed his race.
Tile mans indifference galled
Schwabacker. He said, "It seems
that were all hiding something,
sir."
Jocelyn did not take any whiskey 
to ease the pain. He made
tew sounds, save the agonized
sawing of his breath. Sweat came
out of every pore, and when
Schwabacker dropped the lead
ball into the pan of pink water,
Jocelyn was too weak to open
his eyes.
Leaving the bandaging to Corporal 
Linahan, Schwabacker drew
Sergeant Finnegan to one side.
"You've been his sergeant fourteen 
years, isn't that right?"
"Aye, sor."
"Then you know a lot about
him."
"That's right, sor. All there is
to know."
Schwabacker drew a deep
breath because he felt slightly
dizzy. The pain in his arm was
numbing. "Sergeant, I'll give it
to you straight. You heard what
I said to the lieutenant; I was
once nearly a doctor, be I know
what I'm talking about. He may
die. So I want to know about
him." He took the battered tintype 
from his pocket. "I want to
know about her."
"The lieutenant keeps that to
himself, sor."
"You're lying," Schwabacker
said flatly. "Sergeant, don't you
think she'd want to know?"
Finnegan pawed his face out
of shape. "I guess, sor." He
glanced at Jocelyn, who sat propped 
between two troopers, his
head tipped forward on his chest.
"They met before the war, sor. A
real Southern beauty, Proud she
was One or the Fawnstock wom
en 
from Richmond." He smiled,
finding remembering pleasant
"He was different in them days,
sor. Always laughing he was,
When the states began to secede,
th' feelin' was a bit nigh, sor.
Like I said, she was a real Southern 
aristocrat. Th' war broke 'em
both apart, sor, but I think they
could have forgot that exceptin'
for her brother. The lieutenant
caught him one night past th'
Union picket lines, sor. Cap'n
Fawnstock was in civilian
clothes."
Schwabacker's shock was intense. 
"You mean—?"
"Aye, sor. Th' lieutenant commanded 
th' firin' squad."
"God! What a thing for a man
to carry."
"What I've said is for you
alone, sor," Finnegan said. "If he
lives and I ever hear you speak
of it, I'd have to kill you, sor."
He spoke without heat, a flat,
positive statement that rang true.
Somehow Emil Schwabacker
was not offended. He touched
Finnegan on the shoulder briefly.
"I understand, Sergeant is that
why he watches the mall? Because 
he thinks she'll write?"
"Aye, sor. The lieutenant's
written every week lot seven
years an' never got an answer,
sor. If he lives, he'll write every
week until he dies, or until he
gets an answer."
"Thank you, Sergeant." Schwabacker 
turned away and met Sergeant 
McGruger coming up.
"It's possible to go outside, sir.
Cassidy and a couple of the
others have been doin' some longrange 
sniping and they've shoved
the Indians out to about four
hundred yards."
"Excellent. Get a five-man detail 
together and tend to the
mounts." He turned, composed, in
complete command of himself.
The pain in his body was a detached 
pain and he found he
could endure it. He looked at
Lieutenant Jocelyn and found the
tall officer conscious.
Sergeant McCruger said, "How
long are we staying, sir?"
"I think we'll take, our chances
late this evening," Schwabacker
said. He caught flight of Lieutenant 
Eastwood in the hallway
leading to Lydia Kincaid's room.
The man's idleness, his apparent
indecision, irked Schwabacker,
"Sergeant, take the lieutenant
with you outside, but he is not
in command."
"I understand, sir."
As McGruger moved away, Lydia 
Kincaid came to the doorway,
"I think I can be of some use,"
she said. She was running, on
nerve alone, Schwabacker deelded. 

"Do what you want," he said.
Corporal Mike Linahan, who
had been with Schwabacker since
his frontier assignment, hovered
like a fretting hen. "Can I tend
to that arm sor?"
He wanted to let him, but he
could feel Temple Jocelyn's Judging 
eyes boring into his back,
measuring him now as he had always 
measured him. Lieutenant
Schwabacker said, "Forget it,
Corporal. Go see what you can do
for the lieutenant."
He felt a little silly after he
said it.
()
© Copyright, 1956, by James Keens, Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. [King Features Syndicate]

Britain Makes Known
Top Defense Program
Britain
announced Friday a revolutionary
defense program for the atomic
era, including an end to the draft
1960, a deep slash in military
manpower and eventual scrapping
of battleships and piloted warplanes. 

Under the plan announced in a
defense ministry white paper, Britain 
will put virtually all her reliance 
on nuclear weapons, guided
missiles, aircraft carriers and crack
units of highly trained professional 
soldiers.
By the end of 1962, the armed
forces, are to total 375,000 men
Present total is 690,000.
Announcement of the plan, the
personal, product of defense minister 
Duncan Sandays, touched off an
immediate controversy in Britain
and in the capitals of the other
North Atlantic treaty organization

allies.
West Germany was particularly
concerned because the white paper
disclosed a substanitial reduction
in British, army and air force personnel 
attached to the NATO command. 


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