In the view of network news chiefs, the cooperation of Gen. MacArthur's headquarters in news coverage of the Korean war has been irreproachable, considering the suddenness of U. S. commitment to battle.
No instances of either direct or indirect censorship of radio correspondents—save for the obvious withholding of intelligence that would violate security—have been reported, the news chiefs told Broadcasting last week.
All pointed out the difficulty of radio coverage of the actions because of the absence of communication facilities at the battleground, but they also agreed that this was unavoidable.
News reached New York that the Army was endeavoring to establish a mobile transmitter in Korea, although details were lacking. Since the fall of Seoul, no radio facilities have been available anywhere in Korea.
The installation in Korea of a mobile transmitter, capable of relaying through Tokyo to the U. S., would, of course, immeasurably assist in the radio coverage of the war.
The news chiefs applauded Gen. MacArthur's policy of avoiding censorship by the military. All said they were abiding by the security directive issued by Secretary of Defense Louis Johnson.
Generally, they said, the Public Information Office in Tokyo has been helpful to radio reporters. In the early stages of the war, there were instances of inefficiency, but the newsmen agreed this could be attributed to the fact that the PIO, like the rest of our forces, was unprepared for the unexpected Korean war.
A particular difficulty which was cited by the newsmen was the inadequacy of briefings in Tokyo during the first weeks of the operation. This has since been corrected.
Staffs Reinforced
By last week all networks had reinforced their news staffs in the battle area.
ABC, although without a full-time staffer on the scene, has taken numerous reports from Jimmy Cannon, also of the New York Post; John Rich and Ray Falk, both INS.
CBS has its own veteran correspondents, Bill Downs and Bill Costello, as well as Commentator Edward R. Murrow, shuttling between Korea and Tokyo.
MBS has Robert Stewart in Tokyo and is taking reports from Walter and Edith Simmons, of the Chicago Tribune; Pat Michaels and Jack Reed, both INS.
NBC has George Thomas Folster and William Dunn, both veterans of World War II Pacific campaigns.
Directing coverage from New York are Thomas Velotta, ABC vice president in charge of news and special events; Edmund A. Chester, CBS director of news; A. A. Schecter, MBS vice president in charge of news, special events and publicity, and William F. Brooks, NBC vice president for news and special events for sound broadcasting.
"Tokyo, December, 1952: CBS commentator Edward R. Murrow, center, and Washington bureau chief Bill Downs, right, are welcomed to Tokyo by Japan-Korea bureau manager George Herman" (source)
From Broadcasting magazine, July 24, 1950, pp. 19, 34, 36:
CENSORSHIP QUESTION: Security Issue Rises
Question of censorship—and the problem of military security versus freedom of information—arose into sharper focus last week among broadcasters, press association correspondents who furnish stations with spot news, and legislators on Capitol Hill, some of whom "erupted" over public disclosures involving American troop movements.
Meanwhile, key officials of the National Security Resources Board continued to study blueprints which envision an Office of Censorship similar to World War II.
Week's Highlights
Among the week's developments:
• Protest by the National Assn. of Radio News Directors over ouster of AP and UP correspondents from Korea, and demand for a "uniform military censorship" . . . in a matter consonant with security.
• Statement by Gen. Douglas MacArthur that "the press alone should assume responsibility" in the Korean emergency.
• Demands by Capitol Hill solons for tightening up the release of military information "at the source."
• Advice to stations by NAB that they be "cautious . . . in handling news," with emphasis that Defense Secretary Louis Johnson's military directive is "not censorship, voluntary or otherwise."
NSRB officials made plain last week that blueprints providing for creation of an Office of Censorship would be in the form of recommendations to the President, to be submitted only in the event of all-out emergency and mobilization. They indicated the office would be along lines comparable to the group headed by Byron Price in the last war, and expressed concurrence with most of his sentiments.
For the present, they felt that broadcasters could be guided largely by the text of Secretary Johnson's directive on the disclosure of certain military data and statistics and the voluntary code of wartime practices [Broadcasting, July 17].
Any potential censorship office, they confirmed, would be manned by representatives of radio, television, press, motion picture and other media. Appointment of a director would, of course, rest with the President.
The problem, they affirmed, resolves itself into two groups: (1) withholding of information at the source, and (2) actual censorship of information. They noted that the military probably would exercise the upper hand in decisions involving the former.
They backed up one of Mr. Price's 1945 observations that some people feel that the censor "should commit in the name of security all of the errors which have helped often enough heretofore to discredit censorships, to divorce their procedures completely from the dictates of common sense, and in the end to weaken greatly their effectiveness." That would not be "wise or expedient," Mr. Price felt.
The developments relating to the ouster of the AP and UP correspondents from the Korean war zone drew strong protests from the National Assn. of Radio News Directors early last week.
In a telegram sent to Defense Secretary Johnson, the NARND president, Jack Shelley, asserted that such action "greatly undermines the faith of American radio listeners in freedom of news reporters representing them to describe accurately conditions at the front."
"Uniform military censorship as applied during World War II in combat areas might be the best approach to the Korea coverage problem, but banning of newsmen who violated no security rules is indefensible," Mr. Shelley felt.
Spokesmen at the Defense Dept. information office said they had no knowledge of any reply filed by Secretary Johnson, and expressed belief that the problem no longer is an issue in view of Gen. MacArthur's action reinstating the correspondents.
Mr. Shelley, a former war correspondent who covered both the European and Pacific theatres for WHO Des Moines, Iowa, told Broadcasting he felt "nothing but uniform military censorship will provide a reasonably satisfactory method of regulating reporting in a manner consonant with security."
"It seems to me the height of the unfair to say to a group of newsmen "we'll trust you to use your own judgment; there'll be no censorship"—and then to jerk them when they exercise that judgment." He said this "extremely important principle" for all media is at stake.
Issue in Korea
The security issue arose on the Korean war front July 15 when the Army Command, under Col. M. P. Echols, Gen. MacArthur's information officer, imposed a ban on AP's Tom Lambert and UP's Peter Kalischer. They were ordered to leave the area for "disclosing information that would be of value to the enemy and would have a bad morale and psychological effect on our own troops."
Gen. MacArthur, subsequently lifting the ban, called on reporters to exercise judgment and selectivity in reporting the news from the front. He said that "formal censorship" was abhorrent to him, but pointed out that several correspondents had requested censorship. It was understood that a goodly number of the 200 correspondents now in that theatre favor complete and clear guidance, if not actual censorship. A large number of radio stations depend on AP and UP for spot news coverage of the Korean war.
Defense Secretary Johnson's directive on security measures, issued recently to the three services, was expected to provide some aid along that line.
The two news associations correspondents were not challenged on the accuracy of their stories, merely on their judgment in repeating remarks reportedly made by American soldiers delving into the question of American military aid.
Another correspondent, Marguerite Higgins of the New York Herald Tribune, also was ordered from the front but reinstated by Gen. MacArthur's command.
Congressional sentiment for security restrictions reflected growing wariness on Capitol Hill. Sen. Scott Lucas (D-Ill.) spoke for some of his colleagues and presumably for the administration when he called for censorship—"either voluntary or legislative, which no one wants"—to protect American lives. He indicated he is particularly disturbed by newspaper accounts from Korea.
"It seems almost criminal," he declared, "for commentators, columnists, and other newspapermen to tell the world exactly where our troops are congregating, where they are going, and the total amount of their equipment, especially in view of the great emergency which exists at this time."
Voluntary Restraint
The Senate Majority Leader stressed that he did not advocate "rigorous censorship, but there certainly should be a voluntary censorship of information of that sort." He thought the President should request it. Speaking as majority leader, Sen. Lucas urged "all possible restraint" by radio and press in the interest of unity.
Sen. Lucas made his statement after certain members of the House had scored newspaper accounts dealing with the movements of American troops to Korea. One—Rep. Harold Hagen (R-Minn.)—charged American radio and press with "alarmist" reporting of hostilities. He cited Gen. MacArthur's earlier statement that casualties had been exaggerated in press dispatches.
Other House members who deplored such disclosures included Reps. Wayne Hays (D-Ohio), Daniel Reed (R-N. Y.), and Thomas Lane (D-Mass.). They joined in demanding that the Defense Dept. tighten up on release of statistical information relating to troop movements, numbers, units, etc. On the Senate side, Sen. Style Bridges (R-N. H.) also called on the department to cease such "public disclosures" as a "measure of elementary security."
As an example of voluntary self-restraint, Sen. Lucas singled out the Chicago Sun-Times, which July 15 announced imposition of its own censorship for "the duration of the emergency." The newspaper is controlled by Publisher Marshall Field, of Field Enterprises Inc., which owns WJJD WFMF (FM) Chicago. It was presumed that the policy also would be extended to the stations' news desks.
Stand Welcomed
It was a telegram from the newspaper's managing editor, Milburn P. Akers, to Gen. MacArthur that precipitated the latter's statement with respect to self-censorship by the press in Korea. The General described the Sun-Times' stand as "welcome support to this command."
He stated:
It reflects the most commendable determination to fulfill the responsibility which the press alone should assume in an emergency such as this—a responsibility which it may not effectively share with any other segment of society, least of all the military not trained in journalism and which should devote its entire energies to the conduct of military operations," the general added.
There is probably no more misused nor less understood term than press censorship. Contrary to what many believe, no precise rule can make it effective nor were any two military censors ever in agreement on detail.
If its purpose is to be served, censorship must be of the spirit and applied only by those themselves who print the news. Its objective is not to mislead or misrepresent the truth, as that is repugnant to the basic concepts of a free society, but rather to avoid printing information of direct military value to the enemy or such as may contribute through under-emphasis or emotional stress psychologically to his cause by raising the morale of his forces while depressing that of ours.
The formula is a simple one and one which all men of normal understanding may easily comprehend and apply.
The contention of some that the military must take the responsibility of laying down fixed rules governing the limitation upon news and pass upon each item before it is printed is as unrealistic as it is ineffective.
In the Korean operations, it has been my purpose to leave this responsibility where it rightfully belongs, in the hands of the correspondents, editors and publishers concerned.
Secretary Johnson's security directive was prepared by the Defense Dept.'s Security Review Branch, which serves as a clearing-house for material dealing with the three military services. It is headed by Lt. Col. Joseph Edgerton and is the outgrowth of conferences on proposals for a security code between Former Secretary James Forrestal and a committee comprising representatives of radio, press and motion picture interests. It materialized from unification of the services [Broadcasting, April 12, 1948].
Overall Planning
Today overall censorship planning is being mapped by a special section of the National Security Resources Board under Gilbert C. Jacobus, Army Reserve officer with the rank of colonel.
Specifically NSRB and other planners are concerned chiefly with (1) methods of attaining satisfactory security within the military establishment and (2) creation of an office to supervise restraint among the various media in the event of emergency.
Col. Edgerton said last week that, when NSRB completes its master plan, encompassing provision for censorship enforcement, his Security Review Branch probably will be included in the list of cooperating agencies.
Secretary Johnson's directive to the military services parallels the 1943 voluntary code to varying degrees in matters pertaining to accounts of military movements and operations [Broadcasting, July 17].
The directive also was reprinted for member stations by NAB, which pointed out that it was "not censorship, voluntary or otherwise," but merely a "guide on the release of information to be employed by responsible military authorities." NAB added:
. . . It will be useful to public media in guarding against disclosures which would jeopardize lives and property of Americans. Possibility exists that information violating these suggestions might be released thoughtlessly by military authorities, in which case public media do their country a service in using blue pencils with reference only to information designated by Secretary Johnson as involving military censorship.
Censorship as such, wartime or otherwise, is subject constantly being watched by NAB. Direct contacts are being maintained with appropriate government agencies . . .
Caution Advised
The best advice, NAB told member stations, is to "simply be cautious while you're being competitive in handling news." Following is the text of the Johnson directive:
MEMORANDUM FOR SECRETARY OF THE ARMY SECRETARY OF THE NAVY SECRETARY OF THE AIR FORCE The following is intended as a security guidance for dissemination to all echelons of the military services: To safeguard the national security in connection with operations in the Far East Command, the following limitations are imposed on the release of information by the military services: 1. Preparations for military operations or movements within the Continental United States are subject to the following restrictions:
a. Ultimate destination of unit alerted: Refer to theater only, i.e., the Far East Command. b. Designation of unit: Release numerical designation only when unit is of division size or larger. Numerical designation of units below Division level will not be released. Air Force Group designations will not be released. Non-divisional units will be referred to in general as a combat unit, a supporting unit, etc., of the Continental Army concerned, which have been alerted for movement. c. Status of equipment: Not releasable. d. Strength: Not releasable. e. Date of movement from present location: Not releasable. f. Sailing time of transports from Port of Embarkation: Not releasable.
2. Movements of naval vessels and transport or cargo ships from the West Coast may be mentioned after departure but no mention may be made of movements west of Pearl Harbor. Photographs of loadings, sailings and reactivation operations of naval vessels may be used within normal security limits imposed by the local commander. 3. Within the Far East Command the following restrictions have been imposed by CINCFE:
a. Reports naming specific units, sizes, places of landing, locations and troop movements may not be disclosed until officially announced. b. Subordinate headquarters, movements, units committed (except Eighth Army, Fifth Air Force, Twentieth Air Force, Seventh Fleet, etc.), or any field locations may not be mentioned until officially announced.
4. Military forces of the United Nations acting in cooperation with United States forces should be safeguarded in accordance with the foregoing. In case of doubt as to actual military security within the Continental United States, the Security Review Branch of the Department of Defense, Room 2 C 766, The Pentagon, Extension 71182, is available for advice. These instructions may be shown to news media.
Republicans Say Voice of America Is Biased and Ineffective
"A group of State Department announcers huddle around the microphone after the initial shortwave broadcast in Russian to Russia from New York City, Feb. 17, 1947" (source)
From Broadcasting-Telecasting magazine, July 30, 1951, p. 31:
VOA COMMENTATORS: Barrett Answers Charge
The State Dept. last week soundly scotched a series of Congressional charges involving network commentators whose service were utilized on the Voice of America by contract under the Smith-Mundt Act. NBC also joined in a partial rebuttal to a Communist affiliation blast.
The issue was raised in a caustic speech on the House floor by Rep. William S. Hill (R-Col.), who charged that the State Dept. had placed itself "in a highly dubious position" by employing certain political commentators, notably those with CBS. Rep. Hill also singled out an NBC commentator whom, he claimed, "has a lengthy record of affiliation with Communist and Communist-front organizations." He referred to Ben Grauer, who promptly labeled the accusation as "vicious" and questioned the existence of any "official record" tending to discredit his loyalty.
NBC also issued a statement saying that "we have thoroughly investigated (Mr.) Grauer at his request, and found him to be a true and loyal American."
CBS declined comment on Congressman Hill's mention of the employment by VOA of four commentators—Charles Collingwood, William Downs, Griffing Bancroft and Eric Sevareid—who he said had drawn $1,100 for private services.
In a statement issued Thursday, Edward W. Barrett, Assistant Secretary of State for Public Affairs, held that it was a "gross injustice" for anyone to imply political favoritism.
Secretary Barrett's comments were directed to Rep. John J. Rooney (D-N. Y.), chairman of the House Appropriations sub-committee, which has been critical of Voice operations. Rep. Hill's remarks came during the course of House debate on VOA funds (see separate story).
Mr. Barrett pointed out that both parties of Congress have suggested that "this program should utilize as fully as possible the best professional talent available" and facilities of private agencies.
"Naturally the Dept. of State as tried to comply with these very sensible and constructive suggestions and instructions. As one part of this program, we have utilized the parttime services of well-known American radio commentators in reaching a worldwide English language audience and in reaching audiences in other languages," he explained, citing the provisions of the Smith-Mundt Act.
He added:
. . . Such commentators have been extremely generous in doing this work at nominal rates far below the pay scale they normally receive. I hardly need to tell you that it is a gross injustice for anyone to imply that a distinguished American radio commentator should be swayed to change his views in any respect because he receives a nominal fee of $50 to undertake a special broadcast for the Voice of America.
On the contrary, these men deserve very sincere thanks from the nation for doing this work at fees substantially below those they can command elsewhere.
Render Advice
Rep. Hill had noted that "as political commentators they frequently have occasion to pass judgment and express opinions regarding the State Dept. that is making cash payments to them."
Taking another tack, Rep. Hill also described CBS as having a "reputation of being, through its so-called news programs and commentaries, a strong supporter of the Truman administration, and of socialistic tendencies generally." He continued:
. . . CBS has been well treated by the Truman administration; it was Columbia's color television system that received the approval of the FCC and is now being adopted as the standard color system for this country. Columbia stands to gain many millions of dollars from this decision. The agency that handed down the decision, the Federal Communications Commission, is, of course, the same agency that holds the power of life and death over radio stations through its licensing requirements.
In another blast, Rep. William K. Van Pelt (R-Wis.) lamented VOA's appointment of Raymond Swing as advisor and commentator. Referring to Mr. Swing's alleged sympathies for Secretary of State Dean Acheson, he scored the commentator as "one of the most unsuitable persons" the Voice could hire.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
'VOICE' ATTACKED In Fund Debate
Marked dissatisfaction with present Voice of America operation, particularly as an instrument of State Dept. foreign policy, characterized heated House debate on VOA appropriations last week.
Using the U. S. radio arm as its whipping boy, a Republican bloc of the nation's lawmakers lashed out at Voice management, programming, personnel and assorted other phases. Discussion was flavored with pungent descriptions, most of them designed to lay the groundwork for a sharp cut in Voice funds this new fiscal year.
After four days of charges and counter-charges that reverberated from Capitol Hill to the State Dept., the House finally voted to allot VOA $85 million for 1951-52 as recommended by the House Appropriations Committee [BROADCASTING-TELECASTING, July 16]. Two amendments by Rep. Cliff Clevenger (R, Ohio), to cut the Voice another $15 million and to return the bill to committee—were rejected.
The GOP bloc charged that the Voice:
• Fails to "bring hope and encouragement to enslaved peoples behind the Iron Curtain," particularly in Poland, where it rates "last" among listeners.
• Concentrates on covering up "past blunders" by the U. S. government.
• "Is about as agile as a rheumatic rhinoceros . . . red tape, lethargy and inertia are the order of the day."
• Stresses the need for funds to purchase radio receivers for use abroad as "an emergency project," but makes little progress on the project.
• Cannot be made effective unless "you have an effective State Dept."
• "Wanders aimlessly from program to program," lacking a cohesive idea or ideas"; boasts too much about the American standard of living, reflecting a "giveaway complex" and has "a very small listening audience, despite some pretty fanciful figures to the contrary."
• Should be better coordinated with an improved U. S. information program.
• Spends too much money on program evaluation ($1,312,100). Advertisers "would go broke if they spent one-tenth as much evaluating the effect of their promotion. . . ."
Bulwarking a Republican attack on the Voice were Reps. Richard B. Wigglesworth (Mass.), John V. Beamer (Ind.), William S. Hill (Col.), Hamer H. Budge (Ida.), Patrick J. Hillins (Calif.), William E. McVey (Ill.), Clarence Brown (Ohio) and John T. Wood (Ida.). Rep. Brown summed up the GOP position: Republicans support a Voice program but the overwhelming majority of its members are "distressed at the results" and blame the administration for lack of a realistic foreign policy.
The Voice also had its supporters in the House, among them Democratic Reps. A. S. J. Carnahan (Mo.), Alfred D. Siminski (N. J.), John J. Rooney (N. Y.), Prince Preston Jr. (Ga.), Laurie C. Battle (Ala.), Brooks Hays (Ark.), and Adolph J. Sabath (Ill.).
In defense of the Voice the Democrats held that the radio operation:
• Spends only 3% of its total budget for program evaluation, on the basis of claims by Thurman Barnard, new acting general manager of the program, and other advertising executives, and that radio networks and advertisers spend at least as much.
• Is counteracting Russian propaganda effectively—a fact borne out by heavy Soviet jamming operations—and is "rendering a real service behind the Iron Curtain."
• Is acting within the provisions of the law in utilizing radio, television and other private agencies as well as professional services of individual commentators (see separate story).
• Is "carrying America's message to the world," under the "expert generalship" of Edward W. Barrett, Assistant Secretary of State for Public Affairs.
A suggestion advanced during House discussion was one by Rep. William H. Ayres (R-Ohio) to set up a House committee on the Voice of America. "We have had an Un-American Activities Committee for quite some time," he noted. "I suggest we have a pro-America."
Article by Bob Considine in the June 1951 edition of Esquire, pp. 18-26:
Inside INSIDE
By BOB CONSIDINE
What makes war correspondents run, covering Wars I through II½, and especially Miss Higgins
A war correspondent is a foreign correspondent without a black Homburg. Other than that they strike no average, seldom shape up into a type, except when they are created by Hollywood or the stage. They all wear Abercrombie & Fitch trench coats, talk in a manner vaguely reminiscent of Jimmy Cagney with lockjaw, and advise the living hell out of generals.
Foreign correspondents are smoother and duller than war correspondents. And slicker. A war correspondent who is hard-pressed for something to write will interview another war correspondent. A foreign correspondent quickly learns to eliminate one-half of that assembly. He interviews himself, in moments of great stress, and only his inherent modesty (and a lively terror of the New York office) keeps him from revealing that he, in truth, is the "anonymous but unimpeachable source close to the heart of the tinderbox situation in the Balkans."
But let us take quick leave of the foreign correspondent. We'll concern ourselves here with overseas reporters who get a war on their hands. What they do about that problem is pretty much up to each one individually. And no three are alike.
War correspondents come short and tall, fat and lean, good and worse, brave and gutless, just like other tradesmen. They come sentimental and they come case-hardened. The ones who have learned (or knew all along) how to pour the sweet syrup get the most readers—because war, for all its savage nature, arouses torrents of sentiment and sentimentality where most of the reading is done, on the home front.
One vaguely recognizable type of war correspondent (loosely grouped in that he seldom wears his uniform except to the general's parties) is the fellow who must stay so far behind the actual fighting that, well, he sees a lot of the general. This sometimes sedentary hack is the headquarters man. Usually he is a fellow sprung loose from the rewrite desk back home and sent abroad because he knows exactly how to meld the scattered mercury droplets of news—news from the ground, air and sea correspondents—and wrap up the stuff in a compact lead fit for Page One, Column Eight.
Big-verb man, this fellow. Especially if he is covering for a wire service. When he makes that fast hard decision as to which of the droplets to feature in his lead, he then must come up with that living, breathing, spitting verb that is going to guarantee his lead a better reception and play, back home, than the similar leads of his part-time pals from the other wire services.
For him, our side just can't be dismissed with the notation that it "won" from the enemy. Our side must "barrel" through to victory; or "sledge-hammer," "mash," "annihilate," "exterminate" or "wreak utter destruction."
Why? Well, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus behind the various telegraph editors' desks in the newspaper shops of the land. Instead, it's a thin Joe with a permanent furrow in his brow and a case of ulcers à la mode, which is an ulcer on an ulcer. He barely survives the tidal wave of wire-service copy that floods his desk by keeping one flaring nostril above the surging hyperbole. This posture adds nothing to the sweetness of his disposition. Besides, his best man on the copy desk is drunk and so he must select, from the wire-service leads concerning the war, the one story which practically will write its own head. That's where the value of the arresting verb comes in.
The headquarters man tends to develop a curvature of the spine if his war lasts long enough. That comes from looking down on short, wind-broken briefing officers, who supply him with the Old Man's concept of what the hell's happening way up front, or from looking up at maps which are pinned too high on the briefing-room walls to make much sense. Except on those rare occasions when the headquarters city is bombed, as was London when it was possessed with headquarters of E.T.O., the only raids to which he is exposed are the occasional M.P. sorties against some parlor of debauchery to which our man has repaired to escape a "rocket" from the home office. A "rocket" is a message which says:
DOAKES
UTTERNEWS
GRAUSTARK
OPPOSITION UPPLAYING MACARTHUR LORDS PRAYER SMASHINGEST STOP YOU DOWN-PLAYED STOP NOW PLEASE QUESTION MARK STOP
Because he is generally a little older than the brave bulls in the field, and his feet are beginning to feel better in slippers, our headquarters man gravitates toward domesticity. A well housebroken man, he begins to miss the wife and kids with something akin to the sad yearning for his old Buick, which had a nice pickup. This sometimes drives him into leasing an apartment or house, which in turn drives him back to such literary circles as his favorite bar. When this palls on him, and the weather turns brisk, he sometimes tries to relieve the bad-housing situation by inviting a courageous native patriot to share his bed and board. Simultaneously he discovers that nearly every courageous native patriot is a girl.
In a majority of these rare cases, the courageous native patriot eventually learns that there is more loneliness than lechery in her patron. So, with high resolve and determination to mend her life, she moves on to some worthier calling, like living with a colonel. She gives the correspondent custody of his "rockets."
Then there's the correspondent who lives with the Infantry or the Marines, dropping back now and then to the crudely fashioned field PIO (it's that red brick schoolhouse over there, Mac; where the hell did you think it would be) to lick his wounds or write his pieces—if that ain't redundant. As soon as he has seen action he regards the headquarters man as a copeless fuddy who doesn't know his brass from a foxhole. Too, he regards the correspondents who picked or were assigned to the Navy and Air Force in the same light that he regards the well-uniformed Hollywood U.S.O. hambones who carry there own mimeograph machines with them.
The front-line Joe lives like a hybrid of a private and a general. He shares the dirt and dangers of the private when out on a patrol or when his face is in the mud of a pinned-down command post. But he has the mobility of a general: that is, he usually has his own jeep, more dough in his pocket, and he doesn't have to ask anybody's permission to get the blue blazes out of there when he's had enough.
Some get fed up, or have enough, quicker than others. But the trend is toward more and more bravery on the part of these correspondents. They did things in World War II½, in Korea, that far outshone anything their colleagues did in W.W. II. They ventured into spots where angels and Richard Harding Davis would not have dared to tread. In doing so they diluted what used to be one of the more arresting war stories: the death or blood-letting of a correspondent. For a time in Korea they were getting knocked off at a rate calculated to place the misfortunes of successors in the agate type of the soldier casualties.
The model of some of them in Korea seemed to be Ernie Pyle. In 1945, at a flea-bitten place named Ie Jima, Ernie had graphically shown his predecessors exactly how close a fellow must get to get it. Ernie left the latter-day front-line correspondents a stern heritage which weighed heavily on them in Korea: the acceptance of death as well as life with troops, and the onerous need for getting names and hometowns. To wit:
With a 2-Man Patrol Near Poontang, Oct. 13 (Friday)—"Blub" said Pfc. Herman J. Mickolajczyk, of 3974 Quagmire Terrace, Oswatomie, Kansas, today when an enemy mortar made a direct hit on his plastic helmet.
Corp. Manny "Killer" Goldfarb, of 23613 Grand Concourse, The Bronx, New York, nodded knowingly.
The Korean War, whose front-line correspondents sometimes bitterly referred to themselves as police reporters, produced two additions to the now involved array of war historians.
The first was the young ex-serviceman turned correspondent, often a former Marine who had seen grueling action in the Pacific as a slightly younger man before picking up a newspaper or radio job during the five quick years of peace that led to the following war. This lad had a contempt of fear that made some holdover correspondents from the other war avoid him like the plague. He knew how to use the gun which was thrust into the hands of correspondents working out of Taegu, Masan and such places. He was in much better physical condition than other correspondents and knew more about fighting than did a vast majority of the troops he wrote about. Some of them seemed to revel in the hot fights in which they found themselves engaged—like kids getting back to a favorite game which had been barred to them for five years. These are the forerunners of the front-line correspondents of World War III and the wars beyond that. They're just better at that sort of work, and somebody in the accounting offices on the papers or wire services back home will make the happy discovery that these fellows will work for less dough than will the front-line stars of World War II.
Up front, correspondents get along well together, despite the temperature of their competition. They swap stories more often than the writers and speakers of the rear areas, and have been known to share perilously won scoops. What they will not tolerate is a colleague who fakes a dangerous date line . . . that is, if he begins his story with a heading that goes something like, "Inside Wingding with the First Cavalry," when, as a matter of fact, he is not inside the city.
But breaks like that are seldom made. For the sake of a single beat (which might find a wastebasket after it gets to the office) few reporters will risk alienating the affectations and co-operation of men with whom they must continue working.
Korea's second contribution to the realm of war correspondence was the arrival of The Ladies. Sure, they had skirted the edges of World War II, and a few of them like Lee Carson and Inez Robb had done more than skirt. But in Korea they landed with both feet, and if they aren't in war to stay, I'm a monkey's aunt.
Their presence on the front in Korea shocked many a male reporter but probably none of the shockees was given more of a jolt than the veteran Australian war correspondent, Jack Percival. With his mind filled with the impending reunion with such masculine pen pals from the last war as Frank Conniff, Hal Boyle, Don Whitehead, Homer Bigart, Bill Downs, Jimmy Cannon and Bill Lawrence, Percival stumbled into the blacked-out press camp at Taegu one blistering night and, finding the camp asleep, lay down on his blanket for a little shuteye. But there was no chance. The body next to him was snoring sonorously, and answering with an alto snore. Jack pondered this for a time, then remembered an article he had read years before in Coronet. It had contained a suggestion that snoring could be stopped by turning the body of the snorer over on the stomach.
Jack reached out in the darkness to a lay a hand on the snorer, and something akin to lightning or a reasonable facsimile shot up his arm. His quivering arm stayed in the same position for a full minute, while he tried to make his astonished mind realize that somehow, as preposterously incredible as it seemed, he was holding a breast, Jack leaped up and fled for fresh air, to revive his sanity. And outside he confided to an incoming correspondent his unbelievable experience. The correspondent yawned.
"We're getting lousy with them," he said, and turned in.
Lest one suspects from the above that the Korean front at times resembled a bacchanal, let him promptly dismiss the thought. If anything, the girls were resented by their male counterparts. Their bravery was annoying or embarrassing, especially the abundance of that commonly possessed by Marguerite Higgins of the New York Herald Tribune. From the beginning of the fighting, she made men correspondents solemnly agree that it's damned unnerving to be huddling in a hole, frightened, and look up long enough to see a good-looking babe moving up closer to the fighting.
One day while out on a dangerous patrol action, Miss Higgins and the handful of troops she was following were pinned down by a heavy mortar attack. She and the young G.I. hit a ditch simultaneously and lay there close together as the enemy moved closer. Soon it was apparent that the little group would be wiped out.
In this awful moment, Miss Higgins is reputed to have said, "Well, I've had a full and interesting life. I don't mind dying."
The young G.I. at her side yelled, "Maybe so, lady, but goddammit don't go including me!"
Apocryphal or not, there doesn't seem to be any other way of ending this, except to tip my hat respectfully to the current crop of war correspondents, and to repair to the nearest public house to bestir the memories of the dead ones with Scotch on the Rocks. One gets himself a mess of grave misgivings every time a newspaper or radio pal has himself blown to kingdom come while attending to the dirty legwork of war. I don't know one dead one from W.W. II or Korea who is remembered with anything except great tenderness. There weren't any better soldiers, living or dead, than the dead who recorded the plight of the accredited fighters. They gave their lives for much more than love or fear of the gruff bastards in editorial chairs back home. They gave their lives in the great cause of translating the tedium and horror of war into words that enabled the people at home to understand and weigh. They fought throttling brass-hat censorship with a vehemence worthy of that menacing foe.
At the headquarters of the Overseas Press Club of America, in the old New York Times building, we have a gallery of pictures of dead correspondents. It gets larger. If we get into a toe-to-toe brawl with Russia that gallery will fill a wall, and the free world will be poorer for the number of pictures it holds. War correspondents have little knack for phrasing nice plaques to go with pictures of the dead. They fear the element of corn more than they fear almost anything else. So . . . if all goes well . . . we hope someday to tack a neat little bronze over those pictures at our club. And it will be inscribed: SEE YOU LATER.
The text featured here is Bill Downs' script for his live broadcast to the United States from Normandy on June 14, 1944.
Edward R. Murrow was set to broadcast from London on D-Day, and he sent several of his reporters to the front. Charles Collingwood and Larry LeSueur landed at Utah Beach, while Bill Downs accompanied the British 50th (Northumbrian) Infantry Division at Gold Beach. Richard C. Hottelet made the first eyewitness broadcast of the invasion as he flew over Utah Beach in a bomber just minutes before H-Hour.
It was not until June 14 that Bill Downs was finally able to broadcast from Normandy, but even then there were difficulties. It was the first live broadcast from Normandy after D-Day.
According to Broadcasting magazine, 1944, Volume 26, p. 16:
To Bill Downs, CBS correspondent, went the distinction of making the first broadcast from "somewhere in Normandie" to be heard instantaneously in the United States. In his broadcasts, which was pooled to all networks, 6:30:30 to 6:35:50 p. m., EWT, June 14, Downs said that a 30-minute jeep would take him to where Allied troops were fighting, but that military security would not permit a more definite statement of his location. The broadcast was made via Army Signal Corps facilities, with again no more exact description permitted for the same reason.
Reception of this initial France-to-America broadcast was described as "spotty," but Downs' second broadcast some six and a half hours later [1 a.m. EWT June 15] came through with considerable improved reception. This and subsequent broadcasts were pooled for all networks, indicating that Downs was the only correspondent in the vicinity of the transmitter, as pooling has been generally discontinued wherever each network has a chance to get material from its own man.
Downs was not aware that he had made the first live broadcast until after the fact, and later attributed
it to luck. John MacVane of NBC, who landed at Omaha Beach, nearly had
that distinction. According to Ed Bliss in Now the News: The Story of Broadcast Journalism, p. 158:
The next day [MacVane] hunted for a mobile transmitter. Ultimately he found one—four had been destroyed—and got into London with a perfect signal. He felt he had the scoop of the war, but "a bunch of bureaucratic desk officers" said the frequency was wrong. Besides, no correspondent was supposed to come up from the beachhead that soon! Two days later, MacVane broke his ankle and got shipped back to England. The result was that the first invasion broadcast heard in America from Normandy was done by Bill Downs. MacVane heard the broadcast in London. He was, in his phrase, "not happy."
The text below is from Downs' typewritten script and notes. The actual broadcast, featured above, omits some parts of the script.
Bill Downs June 14, 1944
I'm speaking to you from a tent somewhere in Normandy, that bit of a truly free France liberated eight days ago by the invasion of British, Canadian, and American troops. It is 6:30 AM over here––the ninth day of the invasion is only a few hours old.
I could take you right now in a thirty-minute jeep ride to where the Allied troops are fighting. You can get to some part of the front in thirty minutes no matter where you happen to be.
So much has happened in the past eight days that they seem like eight months to every one of us over here. Americans have died, and British and Canadians have died––and a great number of Germans have died. But the Allied forces have achieved what Hitler's henchmen said was impossible. We are in Europe to stay––and you have only to look at the face of an American doughboy, or in the eyes of a man from Calgary or from London, to know that we are not going to stop until we have completed the job.
All this comes under the category of making history.
The news from the front this morning is good––as a matter of fact we have had no bad news to report since the Allied forces crossed the beaches.
On the American sector's front, the troops continue to widen the bulge threatening the entire peninsula of Cherbourg. The British-Canadian sector likewise is slowly expanding. There are hold-ups at a village here or there which the Germans have strongly fortified. There has not been much forward movement around the city of Caen on the left flank of the beachhead.
But you might compare this bit of liberated France to a giant muscle which daily is becoming stronger as the sinews of war pour into it. As more tanks and guns and men pour in, the muscle expands.
Thus far the Germans have been unable to do much about it. However, last night and today, there are signs that the Nazi high command has finally been able to get some fresh troops into the line. The fact that it took a week for his first reinforcements to arrive speaks for itself as to the effectiveness of the Allied night and day bombing over the past months.
But as the Germans reinforce––and as we reinforce––there can be little doubt that a big battle is developing. In this sense, the Battle of France is a race between the supply systems of the opposing armies. The force that gains the superiority first will strike. You'll be interested to know that our supply position is all right.
I have heard so many stories of gallantry and pure guts since I have been here that it is difficult for me to begin. Heroes are not uncommon on this beachhead. I was lucky in my own personal invasion of France. I came in on a comparatively quiet sector.
As General Montgomery has announced, the battle for the beaches has been won. Sometime when we are not so busy, history will record the battle of the Commandos who landed behind the German defenses and disrupted the Nazis as they were firing at each other. Or of the Canadians who walked point blank into the German shore fire to silence the batteries.
And the most glorious single action of the whole invasion was performed by the American assault force. They clung to their position literally by their fingernails. They fought as no Americans have ever fought before. They were outnumbered, out-gunned with odds twenty to one against them.
They took their position coming through a wall of shrapnel and mortar fire and machine gun bullets that was terrifying. The casualties were high, higher than on any other salient.
The fighting men over here feel very strongly about that beachhead. I stood on the beach a day after the battle. There were American boys lying neatly covered under brown army blankets awaiting burial. I was talking to a young sergeant, from Michigan, I believe. He had been through the toughest of the fighting. He said with great bitterness: "You know," he said, "We used to have a great respect for the German as a soldier and possibly a sportsman. But on that beach while we were lying there waiting for a lull in the barrage, we saw medical corpsmen trying to help the wounded. They had their red cross arm bands high on their arms. There could be no mistaking them. But when they tried to help the boys, they were shot."
This sergeant spit on the ground and walked away. He turned and said over his shoulder: "We're going to fix them for that."
The men on this beachhead make me awfully proud that I am an American.
But the fighting is now many miles from the beaches. Here's what your men are doing tonight. The patrols will be out. A half-dozen men sneaking into enemy country looking for his strong points––taking a prisoner here or there––getting themselves fired at to locate a machine gun nest––scouting a Tiger tank or a Panther tank and marking it on a map. Sometimes two enemy patrols meet and there is a "little war," as we call them. Bitter hand-to-hand fighting with bayonet and knife.
Or if you're not on patrol tonight, you've cleaned your rifle and laid it nearby. Your slit trench is right at the edge of your blankets so that you only have to roll into it in case of shellfire or mortar fire. If you have a tank or a truck, you sleep under it––usually you don't have time to put up your pup tent, and any kind of roof seems good.
There is no definite front line in this Battle of France. I found that out the other day when I made a trip to within a mile and a half of the town of Tilly, directly south of Bayeux. The countryside is very close, with high, thick hedges along the roads. Patches of wood-land dot the countryside. The wheat and oats and rye are high, about ready for a good harvest. It is sort of a concentrated Iowa.
It is perfect country for snipers. We were driving down one road when we came to a clear patch. We heard the crack of a Spandau machine gun––and before we realized what it was, there was another burst of fire. The dust alongside our jeep spurted as if it had come alive. A sniper had taken a crack at us. Luckily his aim was bad. We got out of there in a hurry.
Further down the road, we came upon some very fresh Germans. They were lying in the road, killed only a few hours before. But we saw tank tracks and decided to follow up. Then we came to a group of Tommies crouching behind a group of farm buildings next to an orchard. We joined them and discovered to our surprise that they were men of the Reconnaissance Corps. They were looking for a German tank infiltration...needless to say, we were not. It was no place to be armed only with a pencil.
About that time, some German eighty-eights started shelling around the orchard. They drove us to the ground. During a lull, we turned our jeep around and headed for safety. You want a tank to ride that far forward.
When the votes of thanks are passed around after this war, the Allied air forces are going to get more than their share. Since this invasion began, I have seen exactly six Nazi fighters over the bridgehead. German bombers dare only appear at night, and they are not striking in any large force. You never look up at the sky any longer to see what's coming your way. You always know it's American, or British or Allied. The sky over our heads is Allied, just as sure as is the ground under our feet.
Not only have the Allied air forces kept the enemy grounded, they have also bombed and strafed military targets directly in line of our advances. It was dive-bombing Thunderbolts that helped save the position on the American beachhead. Rocket-carrying British planes are as good as artillery in attacking a German strong point. You hear nothing but praise for the air forces.
Naval bombardment, too, has played a big part in the success of the invasion. Point-blank fire from American and British destroyers knocked out pillboxes––heavy fire from fifteen and sixteen inch guns of the cruisers and battleships fly far inland to German occupied villages and heights. The burst of the sixteen inch shell is a terrifying thing––the Nazis know it.
And full credit must be given to the men on the merchant ships and part-time sailors who transported us over here. They have undergone bombing and strafing, collision and confusion among thousands of boats––but the supplies hit the beaches. Without them, we might as well go home.
But we are not going home until a lot of us see the ruins of Berlin. The men fighting on this beachhead are keeping something in trust––keeping this trust for the men whose bodies they walked on the beaches; they are keeping this trust for the honor of you people back home; and they are keeping it for the people of this section of liberated Normandy who showered them with flowers when they arrived.
This trust is victory and freedom from all things Nazi. It is pretty well summed up in the national motto of the French––Liberty, Equality, and Brotherhood.
This is Bill Downs in Normandy returning you now to America.
