U.S.A. - Write My Boy (1957)

[Music] These people were born in many lands. Today they are Americans. 38 million like them came to America during the past century. Today they and their descendants comprise at least half the population of the United States. Now their English-speaking sons are soldiers in the armies of the United States. And for those too old to master a new language, separation means no word to their loved ones. [Music] And so, beginning in New York City schools, citizens who understand the helplessness of these loyal Americans volunteer to write letters to the sons fighting overseas. They fill the tiny benches to await their turn with a linguist who speaks their language. [Music] A woman originated the idea. With the help of the schools and civilian defense groups, the plan is working wonders. They are told, "If you can't express yourself in English, tell us in your own language. We will translate and write your letters so that news from home may reach your sons." In Russian, Swedish, French, Polish, Italian messages pour forth. Say, "How is my boy Joe?" We're all feeling very good. We miss him very much. His papa, his mama, send him our love. Simple words that mean so much like, "Every day his dog climbs on his bed and waits for him. Tell him we are proud of him. We wait for him to come home. It may all seem a small part of the war effort, but to these fathers and mothers and their soldier sons, it means much more than can be told. [Music] The Sakorski helicopter, forerunner of the machine in which man will travel along tomorrow's skyway. This is its first flight in 1939 at Stratford, Connecticut, USA. [Music] And here is its famous designer, Igor Sakovski, an American of Russian birth. Today's helicopter is the product of many inventors, he says. Leonardo da Vinci sketched the first drifting air screw. It worked on the same principle as this child's toy. Sakorski has been experimenting for 25 years and has finally succeeded in designing a practical machine. Here's a late model equally at home in the air, on land, and on the sea. A fuselage on pontoons sustained by a whirling windmill. These rotor blades overhead are the secret. Their constantly changing pitch controls the flight. The helicopter follows their tilt forwards, backwards, or sideways. [Music] An increase in power lifts the machine straight up. Stunt flying made safe and easy. [Music] This model is an Army S2. Perfect control. It can slow down or stop in midair as easily as a motor car puts on its brakes. [Music] [Music] Everybody asks, "But what happens if the motor stops?" Well, let's see. A pilot turns off the motor. The helicopter does not fall because the rotor continues to turn as the machine glides forward. [Music] The helicopter comes down as gently as a falling leaf, always under control. Lands right beside the mark set by Sakorski. The helicopter does not need a landing field. It can lower itself into a 20ft space between parked motor cars or onto a rooftop or into a small backyard. [Music] [Music] When this machine has been perfected and goes into mass production, it may become a new link between people of every nation. But this will have to wait until after the war. Out on the sea, a moving tanker turns out to be an adequate landing place for a helicopter. [Music] Compare this small space with a huge flight deck of an aircraft [Music] carrier. Here is a new weapon for Allied sea power. Eyes for a convoy in dangerous water. [Music] One more weapon to keep the sea lanes clear between the United [Music] Nations. Today the helicopters fly for victory. Tomorrow they may become the wings of the common man, linking him to his good neighbors everywhere in the world. [Music] Now, this is me before I joined the army. Sloppy Sam, strictly a member of the home front commandos. I work on my family quite a while before they let me enlist. But finally, they see it my way. The kids and the misses pack me up in a crate with plenty of straw on account they think I'm so fragile I might get broke in transit and off I go and it's goodbye to the corner lamp post for the duration. When I gets to camp, the first thing they do is check my papers. Then they shoots off a cap pistol to see if I'm gunshy. I ignore the whole procedure. Next, the doctors give me a quick once over during which I hold my breath. Maybe I got something wrong with me and don't know it. But all the vet says is soft as butter and they let me go. However, the worst is yet to come. They line us up, count noses, and off we go again. This time to medical headquarters. The medicos check us for weight, heart, lungs, teeth, tonsils, and we get a shot in the arm. They type out my history, which contains insults like disposition, gentle, and family pet. But anyway, I pass. Supply headquarters gives me a brand new collar with my name on it. And I'm shown to my barracks, a very deluxe two room arrangement. [Music] As you know, a canine army travels on its stomach. And here's where us dogs get a break. We don't have to do any kitchen police. Just keep the dish lick clean for inspection, which is not too hard to do. They don't waste any time in this camp. Right after dinner, we get taught trainers and off we go to start drill. Nice guys. These trainers, they treat you like a human being, and it makes you learn that much faster. Here's our setting up exercises. This puts us in the mood for the next lesson. Handto-h hand combat with no holes barred. [Music] Now for some tricky stuff. The obstacle course. This stuff isn't easy, but we have to know it. One day we'll be jumping over barricades in the front lines. The machine gun bullets will be whining around our ears as we go through the bob wire. Of course, you don't learn to do this in 24 hours. Most of us looked like this friend of mine when we first started. Kind of awkward, ain't [Music] he? Gas trail. That's me. Fifth from the end. And here I am getting my final exam and basic training. There's an enemy hidden somewhere and I'm supposed to spot it. Yeah, there he is. Way over there in the bushes. How do I do it? With the nostrils, my friend. [Music] After 6 weeks, we leave the camp, which we have learned to love so dearly, as they say in the books, and head for a new location to get our advanced training. Plenty cold up here. The trainers put on their long woolen underwear. And a fur coat like mine comes in handy, too, especially when learning to inch along through the snow, keeping my head and tail down. [Music] They teach us plenty of signal work, too. Not a bad idea when the enemy's pretty close and you don't want them to know where you [Music] are. Oh, well, a lame brain. Delivering messages is our stock and trade and we learn to do it over any [Music] course. When our training is over, we're sent in all directions. Some of us are assigned to patrol duty. Others wind up overseas. Some of the gang are up in Alaska. And another friend of mine is doing all right with the paratroops. He got a medal for getting an important message through under fire. Me? I'm guarding bombers. Where is a military secret, but I have learned to growl with a slight Japanese accent, if you know what I mean. And I expect to see plenty action before I'm through. [Music]